#i'm feeling frustrated with this narrative today

[fiona-fififi]

Honest question: where is all this "bad" bisexual representation on network tv that people keep referring to? Like, I understand that there are stereotypes that people believe could be reinforced with particular representations, but I keep seeing the implication that bad rep already exists and is constantly reinforced on network tv. And just. I actually can only think of two single bisexual characters from network shows off the top of my head, and I don't believe either were represented poorly. Neither were constantly sleeping around, they weren't framed as indecisive, I believe both were generally shown as monogamous and interested in long-term relationships, regardless of the gender of their partners (as an aside, I don't think any of these things would have made them bad rep, but these are the "bad" stereotypes I see discussed most often).

So like, have I just missed a bunch of representation? (Totally possible, honestly.) Because this narrative that all bisexual rep has been bad is a weird one to me.

And I mean, I would generally argue that queer rep on network television is overly sanitized and kind of obnoxiously heteronormative in an attempt to make it "acceptable" for a general audience. But I don't think that's what people are referring to, and it's honestly a little disheartening to see fellow queer people arguing for these overly sanitized representations to appease non-queer audiences. Queer rep does not (and should not) mean all queer characters adhere to an acceptable heteronormative standard (one that heterosexual characters are NOT beholden to, by the way) in order to be considered worth of representation, and trying to pretend like all queer rep must uphold "good" moral standards to make it palatable so that bigoted people accept queerness if it's done the "right" way is not helpful to the community, actually.

[elix8r]

PRADA SHOES + I LOVE YOUS TEASER

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader 

GENRE: smut, angst, crack, (some?) fluff, college!au, exes to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au, socialite/richkid!au

SUMMARY: Life as a socialite wasn’t all champagnes and designer labels, especially not with the turn your reputation took due to a simple misunderstanding. Now, you were being painted by everyone as a big fat cheater who shattered her sweet boyfriend’s heart—a narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it was him who had betrayed your trust. Frustrated and feeling deeply wronged, you returned to society and the new school year after a summer of cutting off contact with everyone and the drama. But just when you thought you were ready to face the world again, you were blindsided by something unexpected: the lingering effect Heeseung had on you. And who could blame you? Heeseung was way too hot for you to get over in just three short months and now, seeing him with the girl he once told you not to worry about all over him? Oh, it was on. 

You refused to be replaced, labeled as a crazy ex, or forgotten. No, you were going to make Lee Heeseung realize that you were the best motherfucking thing to had ever happened to him. 

WC: 1.3K for teaser (i'm thinking 20k+ for the actual fic)

WARNINGS (FOR THE TEASER): profanity + mentions of infidelity

RELEASE DATE: Unknown but I am aiming for before summer ends

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey everyone!! lt's been so long since I've posted one of these so I decided to give you a really long teaser and also cause this is going to be a long one to write so you'll have to be a little more patient! But I hope you guys enjoy this and is excited for this fic cause I love writing it! Everyone is so messy (and lowkey kinda terrible) but it'll be a fun one so pls look forward to it!! Lmk if you wanna be on the taglist ☺️

Heeseung was going to fucking kill Jake Sim. 

When he woke up this morning, you were the last thing on his mind, something he seemed to have finally freed himself from. However, all the hard work he put into casting you away from his mind seemed to have been in vain, as now all he could think about was you and how you had returned after three months of radio silence with the guy you cheated on him with.

Livid didn’t even cover what he was feeling, and it was evident in the way he swung his club. Each hit seemed to be driven by a surge of pent-up frustration.

“What the hell, man? That’s the third time today you’ve been way off course. What’s going on?” Jay shot him an incredulous look as he tried to locate where the golf ball had landed.

Heeseung let out a frustrated groan as he ripped off his glove and shoved his driver back into his bag. “Y/N’s fucking back.”

That was all Jay needed to hear to understand what was going on with his friend. "Shit, I saw. I’m sorry dude, it’s fucked up."

Heeseung was in no mindset to be playing golf right now. All he wanted was to go back home and wallow miserably in his bed. Unfortunately, they were only on hole ten of eighteen, and judging by his performance today, Heeseung knew it was going to take awhile.

"Did you know?" Heeseung couldn't help but blurt out, his frustration evident in his voice as he watched Jay effortlessly swing a shot miles better than his own.

Confusion flickered across Jay's face as he turned to face his friend. "What do you mean?"

“Did you know that she was coming back with Jake?” Heeseung felt his jaw tense as he mentioned his ex-friend.

“I didn’t even know he was with her until today. Honestly, I thought he’d just fucked off somewhere and didn’t bother telling any of us, considering how things went down. You know me, I would’ve told you straight up if I had found out earlier.” Heeseung trusted Jay implicitly. He was as loyal as they came, but unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for everyone in their friend group.

"Do you think Sunghoon knew?" Heeseung's question elicited an audible groan from Jay.

If anyone in their friend group knew how Jake spent his summer, it would undoubtedly be Sunghoon. However, Sunghoon was notoriously tight-lipped, especially when it came to sensitive matters. Since the breakup, the entire friend group had undergone an incredibly awkward shift. It seemed that everyone had more or less chosen a side, and allegiances were clear.

"You know he wouldn't tell us anything if he did. It's getting ridiculous. The other day, I saw Gaeul and him having brunch or something at the clubhouse, and the moment she spotted me, she practically sprinted over to explain herself. She claimed she's still 'Switzerland' in the whole situation and hasn't chosen a side," Jay recounted, frustration evident in his voice. 

Heeseung almost snorted at the absurdity of it all. Their friend group had never been one to keep secrets or tiptoe around each other, but the last few months had been nothing but that. The betrayal by you and Jake had not only affected Heeseung's relationship with you but had also tainted the dynamic of their entire friend group.

“Literally, what is there to be ‘Switzerland’ about? I mean, this whole thing isn’t even complicated. Everyone saw them go into the bathroom together and come out literally holding hands. Trust me, I know what she looks like after giving head, and that's literally what she looked like in that video Beomgyu sent. Plus, Karina literally heard them.” Heeseung angrily got into the golf cart as Jay fished the keys out to start driving.

“Okay, well, no offense, but in all honesty, Karina’s probably not the most reliable source, cause she’s in an extremely biased position, but I guess that’s beside the point.” Jay’s words seemed to instantly bring a frown upon Heeseung’s face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heeseung’s tone sharply switched up in an almost defensive manner.

Jay, feeling this shift, nervously cleared his throat as he stammered, trying his best not to offend his already sensitive friend regarding an even more fragile situation. “I mean, uh, well. You know…”

“What?” The grip he had on the seat of the golf cart seemed to get tighter as he waited for his friend to elaborate.

“Dude, you can't be serious? You know Karina’s been trying to ride your dick for the past, what, give or take ten years? I mean, we all know that she’s never had a good relationship with Y/N, and I’m pretty sure most of that resentment stemmed from the fact that you’ve always been head over heels for Y/N.” Jay slowly parked the cart and turned off the engine as he explained.

Still not understanding Jay’s point, Heeseung furrowed his brows, shooting his friend another annoyed look before getting out of the golf cart. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dense. I mean, the last couple of months before Y/N cheated on you was the closest you seemed to have gotten with Karina because of that final project that you guys had or whatever. I mean, you were with her more times than you were with your own girlfriend, and knowing Karina, she seems like she could be delusional enough to have maybe taken that as a sign that you were interested in her? I mean, this is all speculation, but I’m just letting you know what we all saw.”

Jay cautiously treaded this topic. Heeseung was his best friend since they were babies, and he would always be on his side, but Karina was never anyone’s favorite with her extremely polarizing personality. He had no allegiance towards her, not to mention that she wasn’t actually even in their friend group and always only ever found lingering around wherever Heeseung was, so it was much easier for Jay to actually see through her. In fact, it seemed that all of their friends could pretty much catch on to Karina’s end goal except Heeseung.

“So you think it’s my fault that Y/N cheated on me?” The air got tense as Heeseung snapped at Jay while snatching his 7-iron out of the bag. “Just because I spent some time doing a stupid fucking school project with Karina doesn’t mean it gives her reason to go and suck off one of my best friends.”

Jay shook his head even before Heeseung was done with his sentence. Heeseung seemed to not be getting the point. “Fuck no, dude, that’s not what I’m saying. Karina has an incentive: you. If she gets rid of Y/N, then it means you’re up for grabs. Of course, Karina didn’t force Y/N to get on her knees for Sim, but she was the first one to come running, telling us what happened even before Beomgyu sent that video.” Heeseung was trying hard to focus on trying to get his ball on the green as he geared up to swing while listening to Jay.

“So you don’t think she should’ve warned me of what she heard?” He swung precisely, but it seemed that this whole course, to be precise, wasn’t going easy on him. He’d be lucky to get even a double bogey on the par-4.

Jay slightly grimaced at Heeseung’s shot. “No, it’s not that,” he let out a sigh as he walked over to Heeseung. “Look, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I know the past few months have been fucking hard because of what Y/N put you through, and I just want you to be careful. Karina’s always been kind of a conniving, spoiled bitch who finds a way to get what she wants. Just because she’s been warming your bed every night since Y/N fell off the fucking Earth doesn’t mean she should be someone you start trusting.”

There was nothing he could say back to his friend’s words and it seemed that what Jay had said clung on deep to Heeseung's thoughts throughout the day, casting a lingering shadow and leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mind.

[max1461]

I think that the average internet Marxist is actually not much of a materialist at all, in fact in their behavior and rhetoric they seem very concerned with moral purity, the redemptive power of suffering, and the ability of narrative to shape the actual world. As myriad as the senses of the word "materialist" have come to be, none of this would seem to comport well with any of them. This all feels very Christian.

In some cases I really do think there is a latent Christianity in it, but I think the stronger source of this trend is simply the leftist emphasis on sloganeering. Somewhere along the line, maybe with the Bolshevik policy of democratic centralism or maybe somewhere else, the importance of the slogan, the party line, the supreme power of the speech act seems to have been elevated for many leftists above all other concerns. From this follows the kind of disingenuous, obviously fallacious argument you so often see from the online ML left. The point is to say the magic words that have been carefully agreed upon, the magic incantation that will defeat all opposition.

Whether it's "I don't want to vote for a candidate who supports any amount of genocide" or "The Is-not-rael Zionist entity is on the edge of collapse!" or whatever else, a rational person can recognize the impotence of these words. They don't do anything. They're just words. But the feeling seems to be that once the perfect incantation is crafted—the incantation that makes your opponent sound maximally like a Nazi without engaging with their position in good faith, or the incantation which brushes aside all thoughts of defeat, or whatever else—once the perfect incantation is crafted, all that is left to do is say it and say it and say it, and make sure everyone else is saying it too.

This is not a materialist way of approaching politics. This is a mystical way of approaching politics.

I think it's also worth saying that this tendency in Marxism seems old, it certainly predates the internet. Lots of Marxists today are vocal critics of identity politics, of what they see as the liberal, insubstantive, and idealist Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion framework. I share this criticism to a significant degree, but I'm not very eager to let Marxists off the hook here. The modern DEI framework evolved directly out of a liberal/capitalist appropriation of earlier academic ideas about social justice from such sources as Queer Studies, Black Studies, academic Feminism and so on. I say this as a neutral, factual description of its history which I believe to be essentially accurate. In turn, disciplines like Queer Studies, Black Studies, and academic Feminism each owe a great intellectual dept to academic Marxism, and likewise to the social movements of the 1960s (here in the Anglosphere), which themselves were strongly influenced by Marxism.

Obviously as the place of these fields in the academy was cemented, they lost much (most) of their radical character in practice. To a significant degree however, I think their rhetorical or performative radicalism was retained, and was further fostered by the cloistered environment of academia. In this environment the already-extant Marxist tendency to sloganeering seems in my impression to have metastasized greatly. And so I think the political right is not actually wrong, or not wholly wrong, when they attribute the speech-act-centrism of modern American (and therefore, online) politics, its obsession with saying things right above doing things right and its constantly shifting maze of appropriate forms of expression, at least in part to Marxism.

Now I should say that I don't think the right is correct about much else in this critique, and I also don't think this is wholly attributable to Marxism. But I think there's plainly an intellectual dept there.

More than anything else, this is my genuine frustration with both Marxism as it exists today and with its intellectual legacy as a whole. I fundamentally do not believe in the great transformative power of speech acts, I do not believe in the importance of holding the correct line, I do not believe that the specifics of what you say or how you say it matter nearly as much as what you do. I do not think there is much to be gained from playing the kind of language games that Marxists often like to play, and I do not think that playing language games and calling it "materialist analysis" is a very compelling means of argument.

[genericpuff]

Wait, if Hera hated nymphs, does that mean she had beef with Poseidon's wife???

Who knows, but it does shed a whole new light on this scene from Episode 1:

Like, in the context of the scene, it's clear the point of this interaction is to highlight how "lonely" Hades is that he's the only one at the party without a date. Though I do think it's funny that Hades is frustrated / shocked at the revelation that Poseidon brought his wife to a party that she would presumably be invited to attend, like... of course Poseidon is here with his wife, that makes Amphitrite royalty by extension and so at the very least she'd likely be obligated to attend even if she, for some reason, didn't want to go.

So Hades being like "GOD you mean I'm the ONLY UNMARRIED GUY without a DATE???" like yeah man that's what it means to not be married LOL

But in hindsight, knowing what we know now about Hera being cruel to satyrs and nymphs who are canonically lower class (making it a double whammy of racism AND classism) that interaction of Hades asking Hera if Poseidon brought Amphitrite right after Hera called Minthe "nymph trash" almost feels like Hades calling her out, to which she responds sheepishly, "... Yes."

Again, I know that's not the intention of this scene, but it does come with deeper implications now that the series is over and we know that Hera has a history of racism and classism which largely goes unaddressed.

And those implications kind of read like this:

Hera: "I, for one, am grateful! I don't have to spend the evening with that nymph trash :)"

Hades: "Did Poseidon bring his (oceanid) wife?"

Hera: "(・_・;)... yes, okay, Poseidon brought his wife, Amphritite, but she's not nymph trash or anything, she's one of the good ones!"

Again though, just food for thought that's kinda messed up and kinda funny to think about on re-reads. There's so much classism and racism baked into LO even from the very beginning and it's wild that it wound up going unnoticed for years. Even I didn't really notice it as much as I ought to have when I first started reading. To anyone who's new to the series, LO does a good job at bombarding you with colors, characters, Greek myth references, and feel good fluff moments between H x P to distract you from the often biased and outdated viewpoints in its narrative.

TBH, none of that is to say that Rachel herself is some massive racist for writing a story like this, but I do think she didn't really spend enough time analyzing the works that clearly inspired her and/or challenging her own inspirations to ensure she wasn't continuing the cycle of casual racism. It's really easy to be blissfully aware of your own biases if you never learn to address them, especially when it comes to writing fantasy stories which we tend to "disconnect" from real life, never once realizing that the messages and undertones we might accidentally be sending are often still realities for many people in real life today. Fiction isn't real life, sure, but it can still perpetuate some really dog shit thought patterns and subconscious beliefs if left unchecked, which LO is frankly full of especially upon re-reads with a more critical eye when you're not as likely to get distracted or swept away by the pretty colors and whirlwind romance.

[tommycorriander]

Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, And Disability

I am disabled. This is something I've talked about a handful of times on this blog and on my Twitter, and anyone who knows me knows I am a disabled man. As a result, while I do enjoy dissecting media and politics, the need to be an advocate for disability issues would have fallen on me to some extent regardless. Disabled folks are often left out of conversations regarding diversity in media, in a continued oversight from able bodied peers.

What does this have to do with the Hellaverse?

Both shows contain at least some small amount of disability representation; specifically, they both have characters that are physically disabled. In Hazbin Hotel this is Vaggie, as she is missing an eye and prior to the finale had lost her wings. In Helluva Boss, the characters would be Fizzarolli, a quad amputee, and the unnamed deaf child in the special. The only character I ever see talked about in regards to their disability by the wider fanbase is the unnamed child, and on a smaller scale in critical spaces I occasionally see remarks on Fizzarolli's disability.

This is a problem.

For as much as fans of one or both shows would love to claim diversity in their shows, the lack of disability representation and the lackluster portrayal of the minimal representation is poor. And I haven't seen any of my fellow critics discuss this, which I feel is an oversight, though I don't fault them for this as there are many problems with both shows and they tend to have their hands full. However, this angle of viewing the shows has been overlooked, which is why I wish to discuss it today.

Firstly, I'd like to specify what I mean when I discuss disability. While the conversation regarding the Hellaverse is primarily centered around physical disability as this is the only form of disability portrayed in the shows, coded or otherwise, disability comes in many different forms. Intellectual disabilities and mental disabilities are just as important for representation in the media as physical disabilities. Among physical disabilities, there's also a difference in visible and invisible disabilities, the latter of which is hardly ever shown in media compared to the former. Ideally all forms of disability would be portrayed equally and with respect, but unfortunately this isn't the case. I also don't expect every show to tackle every demographic at once; this isn't a reasonable request, and to be very clear, my issue with the representation in HH/HB does not come from every single unique experience with disability not being covered, but rather with the narrative the creatives behind the show and the show's fans continue to push: that both shows are diverse and are, in some way, more progressive than other shows.

This isn't the case for many reasons. Fellow critics have gone into depth about the show's lack of representation of women in nuanced roles, the lack of queer women, the racist ways in which the very few characters of colour are presented, the lack of trans representation, and even the way sex and sexuality is presented being rather conservative at times. That isn't the focus of this essay, but I would implore anyone who is reading this who is somehow unaware of the previous issues to seek out essays that talk about those points; Cassidy Whiskey on YouTube has a three-part series that covers a multitude of topics, not just issues of representation, and I would have recommended helluvareceipts on Twitter, but her account has sadly been deactivated. I'm sure there are others, but I'll lose focus if I try to name every single person to go to. If you're willing to trawl through general pettiness in the critical tag (which, let's be real, that is probably how you found this post) you'll find well-worded critiques as well.

Back to the topic at hand. The lack of representation of people with disabilities is already frustrating, but there isn't a complete drought: Vaggie, Fizzarolli, and the unnamed imp child do exist, after all. However, their representation is not just flawed, but even exploitative in some ways.

First we have Vaggie. Aside from the visual of her missing eye and seeing the incident in which she lost that eye, nothing comes of it. She never has to contend with the difficulties that come with impaired sight, and it's never brought up by other characters. In the training scene between her and Carmilla, it's not a factor: instead, her greater flaw in the physical realm when it comes to combat is having longer hair. This is an extreme oversight, which I believe shows that Vivienne and the various writers for the show never actually take into consideration what should be a major element of a character, that being her impaired vision. Furthermore, the loss of her wings isn't even considered at all, with her somehow gaining them back at the end of her training montage with Carmilla. This could have been an excellent vector to discuss physical disability in a coded form, with her wings being a stand in for more traditional forms of limb loss. Still not ideal, as I believe it's better to have forthright depictions of disability over metaphors, but it would have been something. Instead, it's never a factor, and worse, it's effectively cured. As far as representation goes, Vaggie might as well not even count.

That's all that exists for Hazbin Hotel. In Helluva Boss, we have two characters, and I will save the unnamed child for last, because that is where the real issue with the representation is on full display.

So, Fizzarolli. He is a quad amputee and potentially hearing impaired, though the latter is speculated on due to a single scene which I discuss later. Since that scene is the only time it ever comes up, I will focus on his amputee status. He lost his limbs in a fire, something we see on screen. I will disagree with some of my fellow critics in that this scene should have been more detailed; I feel that had the scene shown more of the damage dealt to Fizz's body it would have come across in poor taste, and focusing on the tragic aspect of disability usually ends up feeling like trauma porn in the hands of poor writers, which Vivienne most certainly is. I do not trust her to handle a more detailed scene with grace, especially given her track record (more on that later). It is ultimately for the best that the scene is mostly brushed over, even if it would have been better in the hands of someone with the maturity and sensitivity to cover such a topic for more to be shown in regards to his injuries.

Otherwise, Fizzarolli is mostly fine. He's shown not just surviving but thriving, he has a loving partner (criticisms of the portrayal of said relationship not withstanding) and generally sees success in his life while still having to grapple with the realities of his disability when it comes to his prosthetics being prone to damage and potentially shutting down. I would, in the hands of anyone else, like to see more of this character and what his daily routine looks like as a disabled man.

Unfortunately all the good will built with Fizz comes crashing down when we get to the unnamed imp child in the Fizzarolli special episode. This child is the poster child for virtue signalling. Frankly, it's disgusting how a majority of the fandom seemed to ignore how fetishistic this portrayal was. This is where the real meat of the essay comes in to play.

This unnamed child is given a single scene, and is then promptly forgotten about and never mentioned again. They are introduced as being a fan of Fizz here to view the competition, there is a brief exchange between the two, and then we all move on. And yet this scene was championed as somehow revolutionary or a sign of the top-tier diversity and progressiveness in Helluva, when in reality this type of scene has been done to death. This is tokenism.

One major stumbling block many of the people championing this scene seem to get tripped up on is a very simple question: why was this child a child to begin with? Really, this seems like a simple question, it shouldn't have much thought. Sometimes characters are kids. But within the episode it's clearly shown through multiple different avenues that this is an adult show. The performances are dripping with sexuality, several of the fans of Fizzarolli are there because Mammon sells sex robots of the guy, there is no mistaking that this is something no child should be at, let alone by themselves.

So why was this child a child? Simple: brownie points.

It's a lot more difficult for people to share clips of a wholesome moment from your show if the person Fizz was interacting with was an adult. People are ableist, this is pretty par for the course; as a disabled person I find it generally safer to assume people are ableist before proven otherwise. I can guarantee if this scene were to be between Fizzarolli and a deaf adult fan as opposed to a young child, it would not have been championed as this amazing representation by mostly able bodied fans. And that is by design: if Vivienne genuinely cared about representation, if she truly wanted to show something meaningful to her adult fans in her adult show, she would have had the interaction be with an adult. But that doesn't get her clip shared around on social media. That doesn't get her brownie points for inclusion. It's safe, it's palatable, it's sickeningly wholesome, and it's insulting for that. This is a show for adults, something Vivienne and company is adamant on, and yet they treat their audience like children. As a fan, you should be insulted to have this key-jingling one minute clip presented to you. You should demand more, demand better.

Unfortunately I do not see ever getting better from Vivienne. She has made it very clear she truly does not care about creating art, she really only stumbled into being championed as a paragon for animation because her majority white and able bodied fans saw the inclusion of primarily gay men and thought that was good enough. She does not give a damn about disabled people, and she never will. To expect good disabled representation from her is like expecting good queer representation from a Marvel movie; she is in it for the money, and it just so happens that the inclusion of that scene makes money.

Addendum thoughts that were too long to put into the tags: I would like to make it clear that disability, because it presents very differently, is experienced very differently by many different people. If you felt seen or represented by the disability representation in either show, that's fine, and I don't want you to feel bad for feeling seen. Ultimately disabled people are largely given scraps; I have not once seen someone with my particular physical disability portrayed in media. Sometimes we latch onto things that are subpar or lacking; my criticism of reception to this scene is targeted primarily at able bodied audience members who may be lacking in this perspective and to also champion fellow disabled people to rightfully demand and expect better. Thank you for your time.

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here 🩷

Like my fav Lukolabrainrot I'm tooo not worried in the least by anything we have seen. When you're in love with someone you wanna show them off you wanna shout to the rooftops that you're with that person. You would talk about them nonstop. They would be in conversations that you have with other people. It's hard to keep it in when you truly love someone. That's a natural reaction to being in love with someone. The narratives that we see online Isn't always based on facts. It's based on peoples opinions. The facts are when you go on Luke or Nicola page who do you see besides themselves? On Nicola page you see Luke on Luke's page you see Nicola. You don't hide someone you love. You would talk about them in interviews randomly. You would post cute things they do. And you would definitely acknowledge they exist. Liking photo is a bare minimum that you do for people who are good friends. Hate is always going to come no one can stop it. If anything the more silent a star remains the more intense the hate gets. Again what are the facts? Nic post Luke and Luke post Nicola. Luke talked about Nic at jimmy Fallon and Nic talked Luke in time magazine. That my dears is the biggest signs of all. Those signs are what matter. One last thing I want to share my first lesson I learned in college. The Internet is a phenomenal tool for information. But you have to understand that anybody can put anything online. And people can manipulate photos. Photos can be taken out of context. My professors used to say if you're quoting something that you've seen online, you have to make sure that the source is a legitimate source. The source is credible. You can't site something as fact when the source isn't credible. Gossip sites. Aren't incredible source. In this situation the source would be Luke or Nic. The rest of the information isn't credible. So listen to what they're saying.

I know we are all having a lot of feelings about everything with JD and A this week. I've sat on everything this week and this is what I will say (and know that my feelings have not changed this week regarding Lukola). And these are just my thoughts and SPECULATION (but I feel pretty confident with them):

We don't know these people. They don't owe us anything. It is alright to feel frustrated (I know I have recently), but it is also important to use our critical thinking skills when consuming information that isn't coming DIRECTLY from L OR N.

We got an AMAZING WT from L/N, where a lot of us just fell in love with them and their connection. However, these are both grown adults in their 30s. IF they are with other people and there is NOTHING personal going on with L/N that they were/are trying to keep private, we wouldn't be seeing all these games. L and or N would have officially shut down rumors and come out with their respective partners at some point before now. They haven't. And therefore there is a reason everything has looked so weird since papgate...

And I believe one of the largest reasons is because of NDAs that are at play with A. Which leads us to her Spain carousel from today. Y'all, she has been sitting on these for a while. There is ZERO way for us to confirm when she was here, or if she was even there with L. Yes, that is probably the same balcony from the one he shared from his stories. Not denying that. But if she was REALLY with him as his "girlfriend" on this trip, you damn well know she would have shown that somehow. He's NOWHERE to be seen. Just like A was NOWHERE to be seen in his post or stories about the trip. She plays games and likes to stir the pot. THIS IS NOT NEW. We will most likely never be able to know who exactly was with L on this Spain trip and when he was there... But girlie pop has been sitting on these pics for a while, 100%. Why? Because I am almost certain this is her last direct tie to L, she saw that there was a lot of attention on N rn because of the JD stuff, and this was her bomb. I think L's NDA SM obligations are coming to an end this month, and she was trying to go out with a bang for the engagement (I don't think that is exactly what it did, but I am sure that was her goal). But if you still think L/A are super happy and serious from everything you've observed since papgate, then I don't know what to tell you. But NONE of this is a good indicator of a happy and healthy relationship when it comes to L/A.

Lastly, remember the rings everyone before you spiral. The Claddagh ring (which has now moved to N's left hand) is something she ordered in early MAYYYY. And she has been publicly wearing since early JUNE. So... for MONTHS. And we can argue all we want about that ring, but that ring is about her relationship with L. Period. And y'all, she grew up in the town where these rings ORIGINATED FROM. I highly doubt she skirts all tradition when it comes to these rings, and likely takes the orientation of them pretty seriously. Therefore, it appears that her and L are in a very serious and committed relationship. So, let's all take a deep breath, remember the rings, and let's carry on.

[twig-tea]

Why We Are Gives Me Anxiety

I have been fighting myself on this We Are post for weeks because I wanted to make sure I knew what I wanted to say and was able to say it. I feel the need to say off the top that I don’t begrudge anyone who enjoyed this show and I’m genuinely glad it brought comfort to people. The show in and of itself, as 16 hour-long episodes of fluff (shout-out to @stuffnonsenseandotherthings for using this word to pinpoint the genre for this show, because it’s perfect), is not offensive or bad or wrong or any judgmental or moralistic word. And it does some things well; the centrality of the friend group was a lovely aspect to this show, and the chemistry in the friendship group scenes was on point. All of the couples have good romantic chemistry as well, and the show is packed with butterflies-inducing moments. 

That being said, I did not enjoy watching this show. I watch television mostly for the story; This show felt more like watching 16 special episodes for a show I hadn’t seen (I think this can be attributed to the point made by @italianpersonwithashippersheart in her post here that the show assumes the audience comes to the show with a pre-existing buy-in to the ships). The lack of overarching narrative structure of We Are gave my brain nothing to hold onto and I spent so much of every episode futilely trying to figure out how scenes worked with what had come before, what the show was trying to say, what these characters were thinking–all of which I knew was the wrong way to be watching, but it’s the way my brain works, so I spent a lot of the show frustrated. In short, this show wasn’t for me. 

But that’s not why I feel the need to write about it. Shows are fully allowed to not be for me, I usually can differentiate between when a show is doing something I don’t like well, or when it’s failing at its own goals. And I don’t begrudge people with different taste getting catered to sometimes; my refrain is that most problems of representation are not solved by calling for less of something, and rather than wanting something not to be made, I’d rather champion for more and a greater variety of content. And lord knows there’s enough BL to go around these days (shouting out @respectthepetty’s post along these lines, which I loved) . But We Are still worries me, and I’ve been trying to find a way to articulate that my concerns are not actually about the show itself, in isolation, but rather about how it feels like part of a pattern. This is my best attempt at laying that out. It’s going to get a little ramble-y, so apologies in advance.

Shout-out to @bengiyo who first articulated this anxiety in his post from relatively early in the show’s run . Ben gets into some of where I’m coming from with concerns about what this show means for the genre in this post, which as he mentions we've chatted about in DMs. I’m really grateful to him for these conversations because in isolation, I worried that I was being alarmist. It was helpful to have confirmation that he was feeling the same way so that I could get out of my own head.  

Ben mentions in his post that New Siwaj has been in this business a long time, and I, like Ben, have jived with him for years because he manages to imbue queer angst into his shows in a way that resonates with me, even when he’s had missteps. I'm going to lay out some of the major highlights of his work for those who haven't followed New for years.

He was an editor on Love Sick, arguably the start of the Thai BL genre as we know it today, and a show full to the brim of queer angst. He directed Make It Right, one of my favourite Thai BL comedy series. This show was also an ensemble centered around a friendship group (though admittedly it didn’t balance the friendship and romance content as strongly as We Are), and it covers so many topics that felt refreshing at the time and still are rare (morning-after sex visits to the clinic because things went poorly, hooking up on the apps, sex acts beyond just penetration, suicidality, I could go on). He also was involved in the GMMTV Waterboyy series–this was his first work for GMMTV that I am aware of. That show had a lot of issues but did explore internalized homophobia and bullying.

He worked as a cinematographer on En of Love, which is again similar to We Are in that it has several couples connected by a friendship group (and is several novels in one series), but each couple was given its own miniseries instead of bundling them into one show. En of Love also still dealt with some serious queer angst, especially in the Love Mechanics story [Sidenote, Niink, the director for En of Love, stuck with New and moved on to work for Wabi Sabi].

At this point, New created his own company, Studio Wabi Sabi, which he's said in interviews was to gain more creative control over what he was working on. And his stories became arguably even more explicitly queer and inclusive of queer trauma. He screenwrote and produced Love By Chance (which folks may not remember or know, but that core story starts off with Pete being blackmailed for being gay until Ae convinces him to come out to his mother and shut down the leverage for blackmail, and a good chunk of Pete’s character arc is unlearning internalized homophobia and not seeing himself as ‘corrupting’ Ae) and then Until We Meet Again. The queer angst in UWMA probably doesn’t need my help spelling out, but just in case anyone doesn’t know the summary, this show was about a queer couple who committed suicide in the face of homophobia in the 1980s, and were reborn and given another chance to be together in present day. I did want to note that in both of these series (LBC and UWMA) the core romance itself has no major conflicts; both AePete and DeanPharm felt like they were intentionally side-stepping so many of the usual BL drama tropes of jealousy and misunderstandings through trust and communication. Dean and Pharm’s story took that even further by having so many of the usual drama pitfalls for a gay couple just not be a problem; their only drama comes from their past lives, in a beautiful exploration of the breaking of intergenerational trauma. So many external threats to their relationship ended up being non-starters, and this was my version of a comfort series for that reason. 

From there, New started working with GMMTV again, and directed My Gear and Your Gown. This series was, to my knowledge, the first GMMTV BL series to mention HIV and to show characters getting tested at the clinic, and while it wasn’t perfect representation (didn’t get into PrEP, treated HIV as a death sentence), it felt like an important milestone.

[I’m skipping the sequels and specials he did for series I already talked about, because they don’t feel that important to the story I’m telling here and this is already so long, but I wanted to acknowledge that I’m not covering everything in his oeuvre.]

He then directed 7 Project, which had some serious storylines dealing with bullying and struggling with life in the closet, out of Wabi Sabi, and then Star and Sky out of GMMTV. Star in My Mind included one of the main characters in a beard relationship for years, and some controversy over the adaptation choices to make Daonuea (Dunk’s character) less polite than in the books. There was drama around the pronouns and characterization in that show (both Daonuea and Khabkluen use guu/mueng in the series, but in the novel, Daonuea uses rao; he also curses in the series and novel fans complained that he was too ‘masculine’). I thought it was an interesting attempt at a departure from BL character tropes to try to make Daonuea more evenly matched with Khabkluen in terms of his gender presentation in the show. Sky in Your Heart also included some angst about whether people of a particular station could be gay. Both of these shows (SIMM and SIYH) were also very trope-y, but they had clear throughlines. 

My Only 12%, the next show New directed out of Wabi Sabi, contains one of my favourite moments in all of BL, in which Seeiw sees Love of Siam and cries because it makes him realize he’s gay. There’s this heartfelt moment where he asks his sister, if there’s nothing wrong with being gay, why doesn’t the film let the gay characters have a happy ending? Despite the weird PSA ending, this show remains one of my favourites.

This is an aside but I’ve long been fascinated about this moment in New’s history: he played himself in War of Y, as a director of BL who is sick of being forced to make BL shows full of fanservice; he treats the actors with disdain and cuts marketable high heat scenes from the show which makes everyone nervous for the show’s future. Later we see him and the actor characters on set for My Only 12%, much happier. I ask myself about this moment at least once a week: Did he write this self-insert? Did someone else write the character and he just played it, and the similarities to his style were (were not?) a coincidence? I hope someone knows and tells me one day,

From there, New functioned as an Executive Producer of Dear Doctor, I’m Coming for Soul [I think this was the first outsourced project by Wabi Sabi]. This series’ entire plot is a metaphor for living in the closet and waiting for the time when the main couple can be together fully without having to hide. 

He directed A Boss and a Babe for GMMTV (which had its problems for sure, but also had Cher as an out gay man at the workplace dealing with casual homophobia in a way that was extremely satisfying), and then Between Us, which is maybe the least queer feeling show Wabi Sabi produced on its own, but did go into the issues of dating and the closet while trying to become a star (if I’ve forgotten something from this show let me know, I only watched it the once). One of the things that was so strange about this show was it being a sequel to UWMA but not engaging with the same themes. The only mention of real world queerness I can remember was the acknowledgment that they can’t get married in Thailand and Dean and Pharm discussing again going abroad and getting married there. 

Absolute Zero was a complete mess of a show; New directed this one for Wabi Sabi, and it has some similarities to UWMA in the sense of there being an attempt at saving the gays from the bury your gays trope, this time via time loop rather than reincarnation, but it did not take the issues it raised seriously enough (including the age gap created between the two characters by virtue of time travel). 

And that leads us to We Are for GMMTV, which as Pluem (@happypotato48)  wrote in his excellent post about this, includes Toey using nu and other 'feminine' or 'youthful' sounding language, but also apparently dropped the main conflict of the novel between Phum and his father (because his father disapproved of Peem).

Why did I go through all of that? Because I wanted to lay out how I've watched New Siwaj’s career go from finding a way to tell incredibly poignant and healing queer narratives (by creating his own company, and fitting these moments into the GMMTV series he did work on) to stripping out queerness from the shows he’s creating in the last year or so.

And this is a pattern we’re seeing more widely at GMMTV in particular, but also in Thai QL more widely. This is something that was touched on but not really discussed in the most recent episode of The Conversation podcast (the 23.5 and only boo! episode here). In both 23.5 and Only Boo!, the show faked out a homophobic parent and then treated their kids like they were silly to assume the worst, and I hated that.

Both Ongsa and Kang had internalized homophobia in their respective series. Both were terrified of telling their mothers about their homosexual love interest. And in both cases, their mothers told them something along the lines of 'of course I will support you no matter what'. In Ongsa's case, even though she was outed by Sun without her consent, she's the one who ends up apologizing for her hesitancy and feeling foolish for her concern. In Kang's case, the show never challenges his mother's assertion that she'll always support him even though we know she hasn’t (she was the one who wanted to prevent him from studying art before his father died), and it’s the audience that was left feeling foolish for our concern. 

In the GMMTV round table for Pride Month, it was mentioned that the decision for Ongsa's mother to be accepting of her relationship with Sun was made in order to model good parental behaviour for the older generation in the audience. In the novel, Ongsa's mother presents a significant conflict, but this conflict was erased from the show. I don't know if the same decision was made in Only Boo! for the same reason or not, but either way, the show definitely signalled to Kang's mother having an issue with Kang's relationship with Moo, and then said "sike", which I did not enjoy. The Conversation panelists were correct in the conversation linked and transcribed above that this wasn't the most egregious misstep either show made, but it feels like a telling symptom of the larger overall narrative problems that New is also now succumbing to.

It seems as though telling stories stripped of queer conflict is being seen as progressive, and possibly also easier to sell, and this is where my anxiety lies around what this will mean for Thai QL content in future. 

For the record, I am all for creating queer content in which we envision a better world for ourselves. But when that is the goal, understanding where internalized homophobia comes from and thinking through how removing parental objection will affect the character and the story is vital to the story and characterization remaining coherent. Otherwise it just ends up feeling like the show is telling queer kids that they're paranoid, rather than rightly worried (like I wrote about in this thread on My Love Mix-Up Thailand, where the same decision was made again to fake out a homophobic subplot that was removed from the adaptation but was present in the source material).

These choices speak to adaptation choices with an eye for specific moments and story points, rather than to a narrative or character arc, which is where it feels like they fall into the wider pattern of what @bengiyo, @shortpplfedup and @ginnymoonbeam were describing in their discussion: shows caring more about hitting specific meme-able story points listed out on a whiteboard than about making cohesive sense or having something coherent to say. 

[So as not to leave it out: I don’t think there were concerns of homophobia in the Wandee Goodday novel (novel readers feel free to correct me if I’m wrong about this) but the show faked us out about homophobia concerns anyway, which again really bothered me during that watch and which adds to the pattern.] 

Now, of course, as I stated up at the top there is value in the creation of different kinds of media. These shows sell different fantasies than the ones I want to see, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have value.All of BL has some amount of fantasy that it’s buying into, that’s what comes with the territory of ‘fiction’. The BL bubble (in which homophobia doesn’t exist and all men are gay for each other) is a version that is at its most extreme; nothing bad ever happens that isn’t quickly resolved within an episode, so there is never narrative tension, and nobody really needs to be that concerned about how anything will go ever. I do not find these relaxing because I can’t buy into the fantasy they’re selling; for me, the lack of narrative tension is so unbelievable as to ruin my immersion. But I can see why that would be appealing for someone whose brain is not always on alert and running at 11/10! The problem I am anticipating is when the majority of content is made that way, and when it is done in a way that takes up all of the mainstream space. I think it’s notable that the only show that’s really felt not in the queer bubble from GMMTV in 2024 is Cooking Crush, which was done by a subsidiary team within GMMTV (and the same team went on to make Only Boo!). And this is why We Are caught my attention and made me nervous; When a director who is known for his representation of poignant queer angst makes an entire 16-hour series in which there are no significant conflicts at all and the only hint of homophobia is in Toey’s reference to being bullied prior to the timeframe of the series, I get worried about who is going to be making the queer angst shows in future!  

For the record, my personal preference for comfort shows are the shows that do not pretend the world is perfect, but do depict an idealized subset of that world→where there’s a group of people that support one another through the bullshit of others and the less than perfect world that surrounds them. Shows that teach us to be kind to one another, and ourselves. Shows that say the world is going to suck sometimes, but we can be good to one another, and not lose sight of who we are, and make space for others to be themselves. A few of my favourite Thai series that do this would be: 

Bad Buddy

Cooking Crush

City of Stars

Knock Knock Boys

Miracle of Teddy Bear

My Only 12%

Secret Crush on You

To Sir With Love

Until We Meet Again

(and of course these occur in non-Thai shows as well. A few examples of my favourites: What Did You Eat Yesterday, DNA Says Love You, Light on Me, Oppan, Marahuyo Project, TsukuTabe, Tadaima Okaeri, Koisenu Futari, Joshi-teki Seikatsu, Gameboys, Hehe and He, Twilight out of Focus, She Makes My Heart Flutter)

These are shows in which there are explicitly external judgments on the relationships in the show and/or the characters for things intrinsic to who they are, and the characters build a support structure in which folks are encouraged to be themselves within that ‘bubble’ (Bad Buddy walks a fine line because it’s within the BL bubble but the problems that the main couple face are so a direct allegory that everything feels familiar; this is also the case with Tadaima Okaeri, which is both omegaverse and one of the most beautifully kind shows of all time). 

So for now, I still have the other smaller Thai studios including Kongthup Productions (who made Knock Knock Boys; we’ll see whether their latest series Monster Next Door deals with any queer angst or not), idolFactory (just finished My Marvellous Dream is You, which had a ton of queer angst, and is currently doing The Loyal Pin, which I have hope for on this front), DeeHup (currently making I Saw You In My Dream, which I’m holding out hope for) and StarHunter Entertainment (who made City of Stars, but whose record is a little spotty on this front; Their latest, Sunset Vibes, has not done a great job of handling the theme of office relationships and blackmail so far, and feels very much in the bubble) to look forward to. 

But as you can see even just by virtue of the caveats I included above, it feels like this shift is happening in the smaller companies too (harder to see a real pattern with fewer data points, which is one of the reasons why I picked on GMMTV–in addition to it being the largest media conglomerate in Thailand and therefore able to take it). Maybe it’s nothing, maybe I’m just an anxious person. Or maybe I’m just wrong about what would be best for the genre and for queer people in Thailand as well as viewers all over the world. But I, for one, would find it a loss if Thai QL decides en masse to pivot away from queer angst, and right now it kind of feels like that’s what it’s doing. In this context, to reiterate my original point, the existence of We Are is not a problem, but is one in a set of exemplars that raised specific alarm bells due to the people involved and their history in QL and queer representation, its deviation from the source material, and the surrounding shows that seem to indicate a pattern rather than a one-off. 

[n3xii]

Next phase in your friendship/social life

Hello guys! I haven't made a pac in a while because I recently started a new job, but I finally got the chance to do a reading for yall! Today's reading is about the next era in your friendship/social life. Choose an image that resonates with you and don't take the reading too seriously if it doesn't resonate!

Pile one

I think its possible that this pile may be stumbling upon a new friendship as a whole, I see a new relationship is forming on the basis of pure excitement and happiness. This friendship is new, you don't know this person or you haven't connected before, however i'm being shown that they still feel familiar to you. This is because there a deep connection where you feel like you both know one another in depth already, this friendship has so much emotional and sentimental potiential, you will feel at home with this person. On a subconcious level you already know them and will feel a burst of energy with this person in your life. I see that you both bring a sense of stability in each other's life because both or one of you struggles with their identity and knowing how to sort out the intenral choas and confusion. This friendship will bring more clarity to yall and help you deal with inner conflict, yall may help each other with this often. You will help each other sort out what's aligned with each others purpose and values as well as walking away from what's not for you.

Pile two

For this pile I'm actually seeing that there has be a loss/falling out in a friendship OR you feel that you're missing out when it comes to this area of your life. Either way, you feel stuck in this situation and no matter what you do you still feel frustrated with the lack of movement and stagnation happening in this area if life. I'm seeing you guys develop a more nurturing, compassionate relationship with yourself in place of a friendship. I'm seeing that at the nkment, you look at yourself as the glass half full, you don't feel comfortable with whi you are or even know yourself that well, because of this you're being moved in the direction of fulfilling yourself before relying on a friendship to being you that sense of connection. You're being guided to find gratitude for yourself by doing some intenral soul searching. The next phase in this area of life is focused on you trying to find confort in your own company, because I'm seeing that your mind can be very tormenting. Anxiety, insomnia, overthinking issues. Basically what I'm seeing here is that you must learn to enjoy your own company before expecting other people to, as well as you learning to nurture yourself when it comes to anxiety or overthinking

Pile three

This pile will be leaving a friendship or situation behind as it was toxic or perhaps a betrayal was happening. I'm definetly seeing a cycle in relationship coming to an end, whatever narrative or pattern of behavior that kept repeating is being cut out from your life. This new phase will be very dynamic, you may be balancing several relationships at once and attracting future lovers towards you that start as friends at first. I am seeing a message that you will be balancing out unequal/unfair friendhips in this new phase because you wont be tolerating people who expect you to play several roles at once, or peoole who dont partipate on their end of the friendship. You want a give and take, where the energy is balanced and fair instead if one-sided. You're also glowing and people want to be around you in this nee era as well, especially after detaching from something that was hurtful or toxic , your energy is becoming more magnetic and more repellant towards people who are selfish

[morose-marble]

I can't stop thinking about Khem and his relationship to sex as power and where it lies in relation to his own experience of sexuality. I also can't stop writing rambly, unstructured nonsense.

As we know, there's no explicit indication as to how Khem identifies sexuality-wise, other than subtle hints that Chatra's positive attention pleases him somehow (the repeating of 'you did a good job today', the very slight smile and perplexed pause at Chatra's admission that he just wanted to spend time with him, and finally, his frankly reckless trust in Chatra in the tree). And of course, 19th century understanding of 'sexual identity' as a character trait was different from the present.

I would have been interested in seeing more of Khem's perspective of his own sexual identity, considering that there was a scene that addressed homophobia directly. The fight that broke out was essentially used as a plot device to get him alone with Chatra, so I'm intrigued as to why they chose to emphasise homophobic rhetoric, when it seems that it isn't really presented as the issue. In Khem's case, class always trumps everything else.

All instances of Khem's sexuality we see are completely predicated on exploitation, with no suggestion at all as to what Khem's experience is beyond that. He has sympathy for the courtesans, because he understands what it is like to be reduced to the value of the pleasure to be derived from one's body. The first encounter with Phraya Wichiendej and the Inao performance, combined with the opening scene of the film, establish (to me at least) that he is practiced at recognising men's desire to 'have' him in a sexual sense, but perhaps more importantly, to exact class-facilitated power over him (he isn't really in a position to refuse). The way he smiles up at Wichiendej upon greeting him, the tone of voice he uses, come off as deliberately deferential in a way he has learned strokes the egos of men who see him as lesser. He recognises that it is the only tool for security or potential advancement he has in that particular kind of social situation. Tragically, the delivery of his lines during their meeting also holds a sliver of tenacious hope for the compliments to really only be for his efforts and not a veiled assertion of dominance ("you please me and I have all the power I need to make you do what I want"). And who knows, this may well have been the case, as we aren't shown Wichiendej pursuing Khem in any way after the Inao performance. We get the flashback montage of Khem's history of being sexually exploited by what appear to be men and a woman. So, again, the sex part of this exploitation is primarily about power, to reaally drive home that Khem has never had agency over his body or in his life. It is his base trauma.

The fight is Khem being slut shamed to compound on the humiliation he already feels from having received a thorough and public dressing down from Kru Phikun. And to add insult to injury, not only is he a slut, he's potentially 'a gay slut' (D.E.B.S? anyone?). He's understandably frustrated and angry, because he has had no choice in the matter, like, ever. What we don't know, is how he feels about the accusation regarding the gay part.

We don't get to see him as a sexual being on his own terms, he doesn't do any explicit desiring at any point in the narrative. So, the question is, how are we to interpret Khem's reaction to the disparaging of sexual conduct between men specifically? That's a big part of the argument, even to the point of surpassing the accusation that he is performing sexual favours in general. In fact, his assailant makes sure to let him know that he thinks performing gay sex acts for profit is worse than being a female sex worker in man suang, because gayness is particularly disgusting. Khem demands to know who presented the claim and whether they have proof, and he does it in a defensive, aggressive manner, and understandably so. Rather than commenting on the gay part of the accusation further than denying it, he chooses to openly defend the courtesans, effectively aligning himself with them, negating any discussion of the gender specificity of the accusation, but implicitly confirming the sexual favours part.

Does he recognise himself as experiencing desire for men? Or anyone, for that matter? Can he, when the primary association he is shown to have with sex is power-driven transactionality, instead of pleasure? Clearly this has been going on for a long time, but how long exactly? How has this impacted his perspective on sex and sexuality?

I was actually quite surprised how much time they devoted to establishing this part of Khem's character, without it playing a more pivotal role in the plot as the story advanced. I was sure at the Inao performance that Wichiendej would be built up as some kind of lech whose downfall would lie in his classist underestimation of Khem as a person, clouded as he would have been, with lust and a sense of superiority.

That leaves it to be simply a building block of Khem's character background, with the purpose to elicit sympathy in the viewer and contribute to world-building. But how does he feel? What does he think??

I know that Apo mentioned in an interview that Khem is some flavour of alphabet soup (not sure how specific he was tho), but within the narrative, they leave us guessing on multiple levels.

My fanfic fantasy for this whole thing is Khem finally being given a chance to get to know himself and have agency in choosing what he wants. Emancipate the lad!!!

[just-some-sorta-person]

Nagi's "Hidden Path"/ Loophole

*featuring Isagi, Bachira, and Rin analysis*

I've been thinking a lot about how Nagi represents a "hidden path" in Bluelock, and the ways in which it seems the main manga and episode Nagi disagree on whether he should succeed- the key issue being his relationship with Reo. He plays soccer for their collective dream in a manga where depending on another character for your motivation is treated as soccer suicide, which should doom him, but his own manga starts with the statement that his genius is shaped by Reo - framed as a good thing.

I've said in the past that maybe Nagi will succeed by Episode Nagi's standards, but fail by Blue Lock standards, and I still think that would be an interesting path to take, but rn I wanna discuss the alternative that Nagi succeeds by both standards, even if to a lesser extent in the main manga since Isagi is the MC. And we're assuming here that his relationship with Reo isn't permanently severed in a way that makes him more similar to every other Bllk character bc that would make him much less interesting and also remove the "hidden path" aspect that we're expecting here.

So for him to succeed by both standards, I think what essentially needs to happen is that Nagi represents a loophole or caveat in Blue Lock's philosophy. And to understand why that would be the case, we'd have to understand WHY playing for anyone but yourself is a bad thing in Blue Lock. And there are plenty of examples to draw from.

Isagi and "All for One"

We can start with the "One for all, all for one" team Isagi was in- the most extremely dependent soccer we see. I'll be drawing from Isagi's Light Novel for this, because it really just spells it out. First, let's look at the reasoning for that "all for one" given in response to Isagi's request to shoot more:

“Up until now, You could have won matches with your individual skills, but high school isn’t a piece of cake... We win together, and become stronger together! If you do that, then you'll have double the joy! And half the sorrow!”

The reasoning given here isn't that the resulting soccer is better at winning games - rather there is an emphasis on safety. "the world is tough", "If we stick together, there's half the sorrow". And within that emphasis, is the implication that the individual isn't enough.

We can also see complacency in this ideaology. When Ichinan loses, the coach says

“You fought well. It’s frustrating, but this is what Ichinan is capable of now. The third years are leaving after this… and some of you might quit soccer after today but you can be proud of the days you fought together as a team." "To me, Ichinan’s soccer team…is the best team in Japan!!!”

Within this dream doping that Ego rants about later on, we can again see the acceptance on the individual not being enough - "You fought well... but this is what Ichinan is capable of now." We also see within the dream doping the injection of safety and lack of perceived agency. Because we are one unit, there is no blame, no frustration, no need for improvement. The point is the team, not to win, so be proud.

Most damning is the way we see this reflected in Isagi

There’s no need to take a risky battle. If they lose, it will be his fault and he will feel bad for the team. He makes an exquisite pass to Tada's feet. A perfect last pass.

What's emphasized here is the risk in making an egotistical decision for the whole team in believing himself good enough to make that shot himself. What essentially happens here is a devaluing of the self - " I'm not good enough on my own, its safer to trust others, trust the system, not your instincts" And that forces Isagi to not live up to his fullest potential, to chase what he wants. Until Blue Lock that is.

Bachira and the Monster

Bachira is probably the character most directly "punished" in the narrative for playing for someone else. Though I feel like punish is the wrong word because this problem with his ego reared its head and was resolved in the same game - once he realized the problem, Bachira resolved to solve it

According to Bachira's explanation

"...Until now, I was afraid of playing soccer by myself. I guess I wanted you to come save me. But, once I tried fighting on my own, like I'd done as a kid, I realized...

And so the problem with his habit of looking for another player when playing instead of focusing on himself was again the perceived lack of agency, and devaluing of the self. Longing for someone to play soccer with led to a dependency that negatively impacted his decisions on the field

So that's why his moment of growth was breaking through all on his own to steak back Isagi and win - ignoring the idea that he should wait for someone else to help him. He needed to believe in his own agency/value to prove himself on the field and achieve his goals.

Rin and Sae

I recently took a look at Rin's Light Novel and there was a line that stood out as kinda similar to Bachira's old habit of passing to an imaginary monster before coming to Blue Lock

he understood why things were not going well. Neither their coach nor his other teammates have the slightest idea of Rin’s image of play in his head. (If it was Nii-chan, he would have made a pass here……) he thought so many times during today's practice. He jumped out in front of the goal to a position where I said, “Here!” but his teammates were like, “Huh?” “There?”

So whether you're passing or shooting, a reliance can develop, huh...

(How do Bachirin shippers feel about this parallel? haha. And what does this say about what Rin says to Bachira "But afraid of fighting alone. It is a soccer looking for someone. That luke-warm ego won't make my heart dance". Cus it seems Rin is criticizing Bachira for doing the same thing he did. What does this mean about how Rin feels about himself? (I mean.. he did already call himself lukewarm later but was he thinking about himself in that moment?))

In the light novel, I think it becomes clear one reason why Sae is so against Rin using him as his reason for soccer - it definitely affects how Rin plays when Sae is away. And since Sae becomes aware of the competition outside Japan during his time abroad, he knows that Rin's mentality as it was wouldn't be enough and thus wanted to spare him the suffering and have him give up. And this is in combination with the idea of "I've found out, that I'm not strong enough to hold you up. If you rely on me you'll fail" At least, this is my interpretation of it - but moving on-

With Rin’s last pass, they score a shot. If his Nii-chan had been there, he would have passed the ball to him in front of the goal and he would have scored it directly….. He stopped thinking. No pass is coming. That is now the reality. Anyway, the team won for the first time in a long time.

We see a lack of agency and a reliance on others once again - "If only Nii-chan was here". Like with Bachira, Rin is waiting for someone to "save" him, which limits what he chooses to attempt and stifles his potential because of how it limits his perceived agency.

We can also see this limitation in how he wants to be 2nd best after Sae - not best (de-valuing). It causes Rin to seal off his ego in order to catch up to Sae, by being more similar to Sae instead of developing according to his own unique talents/ego.

In order to catch up with his Nii-chan he saw off at the airport, he has to make the team’s victory his top priority. To do so, he must hold himself back. Hold back the you who was trying to steal the goal with everything you have using that sense of smell for the goal and assemble an attack as a team play.

Even after Sae's return he's always on Rin's mind, and this still limits his soccer. It's only after Rin declares himself lukewarm and rejects the stories others create through their relationship with him that he is able to go all out by embracing his own personal style, rather than focusing on others.

Back on Topic!

So in summary, what is wrong with depending on others? What causes Blue Lock to default to individualism? Ultimately it seems like its the resulting lack of perceived agency - the idea that you can't do things without other people present. By constraining yourself into a narrative with other people, you limit what you can do, and you limit what you think you can do by molding yourself to their vision. Thus, your potential is stifled.

How can Nagi and Reo become an exception to this reasoning? Well, maybe Nagi's decision to leave Reo during 2nd selection is part of the key.

We know from Episode Nagi and Manshine that Nagi wants to improve for the sake of his and Reo's collective dream. And he (correctly) identifies following soccer that challenges/excites him as the proper way to improve.

Here, Reo identifies them playing together as a must, but Nagi corrects him and saying that them being the best in the world together is a must, saying (in his head T-T) that he likes being with him, but that in order to protect their dream, Nagi needs to change.

It's actually pretty much spelled out here. Nagi says he's fine with Reo playing with other people, but insists that Reo stay with him till the end. Its ok to play soccer with others, but keep me in your heart always. In other words, I don't mind not playing together, but you and our end goal is always in my heart.

This is different from Isagi, Bachira, or Rin's situation because in those cases, the team/monster/Sae were considered as key to success. However, in Nagi's case, success is key to Reo. It's completely reversed. It's that nuance of "I play soccer to play soccer with you, to win with you" vs. "I play soccer for you, I win for you". Because "playing together" is not a requirement for winning, it no longer acts as a constraint that restricts agency. Nagi's concept of being together separate from playing soccer together saves their partnership from being the same as the others and frees him to (for example) join Isagi to improve.

You can see more of this in epinagi

The Tag Game

You might say this is a bad example because Nagi relies on Reo to get him un-eliminated, but by Nagi's "I figured you'd do that, Reo..." we can guess that this was more from laziness than a belief that he needed Reo's help. Indeed, when Reo's in danger of being eliminated himself, when their dream is in any real danger, Nagi takes it upon himself to solve the issue

They didn't solve the problem relying on teamwork/partnership or anything. Nagi solved the problem because they're partners.

Playing Against Barou

The next time their dream is "Challenged" is when Barou says "Becoming the world's best striker means you'll be alone until you die", essentially a challenge to the viability of Nagi and Reo's dream. Nagi's response to that is to run off and instigate a 1v1 with Barou

So again, rather than deny Nagi options, his partnership with Reo provided the motivation to act out on his own.

Playing against Team Z

Even when they play against team Z, we see this in action. Nagi plays a more reliant soccer, his dream/Reo is challenged when he sees Reo's face, and Nagi decides to act out on his own.

Nagi will rely on Reo for the sake of laziness, but when it comes to their dream, there's this pattern of deciding to rely less on Reo, take destiny into his own hands, and make an effort. It's really that nuance of doing something to be with someone vs. doing something for someone.

Beyond 1st/2nd Selection

Brief mention here of Nagi's eyes shining when Reo says "But it's not enough" when Nagi praises him. I think this might be Nagi thinking its a sign that Reo in fact has not forgotten their promise and is also working to achieve it - consistent with the idea of being together without necessarily playing together (Whereas Reo is thinking the other way round - improving for the sake of playing together because that's the only way to be together)

So, where this theory hits its roadblock is the Manshine City Arc, where Nagi asks for Reo's help. But because of all the ominous foreshadowing afterwards, in addition to Ego's words that Nagi's deep ego (implied by timing of skull imagery +all the scenes I just listed to be Reo/dream-centric) is about to be tested, I think their dynamic is bound to change in some direction within the next game. So, their relationship is still in development and the theory isn't necessarily debunked.

**edited in addition** I think the key is that regardless of their behavior, the core of their partnership (ie their internal feelings) isn't dependency, but rather reciprocated faith and commitment, though especially with Nagi's communication and introspection issues, it may take some time for them to figure that out because Reo has no idea the faith that Nagi has in him. Reo actually assumes that their partnership can't exist without dependence - assumes its over when that dependence fades because Nagi will have no reason to stay with him, but this is him insecurely misinterpreting Nagi's intentions. They also can't really flourish until Nagi figures out his ego/motivation, though that's luckily foreshadowed to be addressed. I think with how Reo misinterprets Nagi's motivations on a shallow level in 207, and how Nagi's motivation is foreshadowed to be addressed soon, we will get nagireo communication soon timeline wise (not real life lol). And hopefully with that communication, Reo's insecurity + Nagi's motivation can be addressed and they can begin to figure out a functional partnership within Blue Lock. But really the key here is that faith and devotion don't necessitate playing with only each other in mind, while dependence/reliance does.

In terms of what will happen, I think we might finally get a confirmation of what Nagi's ego is - it certainly fits with their conversation in 207, where Reo tries to give a substitute that doesn't really fit. I'm not sure what would happen once Nagi and Reo have the clarity of understanding what Nagi's ego is though...

In Any Case!

I'm running out of fuel but just to let ya'll know I was thinking really hard about what the difference was between Nagi and Reo's dynamic in comparison to partnerships or teamwork criticized by the main manga and I did not expect the difference I came up with to be the difference between reliance and devotion. "I am not enough by myself" vs. "I will make myself enough for you". I still wonder if I'm just biased?

Plz lmk ur thoughts

link to a continuation of these thoughts - Hiori's Words, Reo's Insecurity, Nagi's Enforced Indifference

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Just to minimize my chances of being genuinely misunderstood OR deliberately misinterpreted, and crucified for something I don't think, How Dare You Say We Piss on the Poor website etc...I'm gonna say this right up top. I absolutely understand why people don't like Thessaly as a character, if anyone does completely unironically stan her as some kind of feminist hero who Did Nothing Wrong uwu, I personally see it as a bit of a red flag. I don't like terfs real or fictional. In a vacuum, I could even completely sympathize and agree with the people who want her cut.

HOWEVER.

It's really something to me to see people clamoring for her to be cut, because she carries and expressed an ugly indefensible prejudice (transphobia) in words towards (1) person. Meanwhile Hob fucking Gadling enacted one of the most violent forms of antiblack racism I can even think of against thousands no, millions of people, the ripple effects of which still affect billions more today. Just a little light idk, profiting off the fucking slave trade and had to be told by someone else that it was bad...and he's a fan favorite.

People are saying Thessally being Dream's love interest reflects badly on him or is somehow endorsement by the narrative (?!?!?!?!?!? Didn't she (SPOILER ALERT AS IF IT MATTERS BY NOW) help participate in his extended assisted suicide? She's not painted as a great person to me just another character what are y'all SMOKING whatever fine. It's fine this is fine.) But shipping Dream with Mr. Former Slaver is not only not verboten or frowned on widely in the fandom but its THEE most popular pairing by far. So...why the difference?

Like where are the same fans who are saying Thessaly shouldn't just be more clearly shown to be wrong, she shouldn't even be in the show at all when it comes to Hobert's crimes??? Yes, transphobia is indefensible. Isn't racism?

And I hear the cries of "it's fiction!!!" Already rallying (if anyone who needs to hear this even sees it lol) to which I say:

HORSESHIT. I KNOW you don't, deep down, really agree because if you did, why get upset about Thessaly being included??? Why does what she said to one person matter if it's Just Fiction You Guyze. Fictional characters are allowed to do bad things and fiction isn't reality sweaty....except when you only apply that standard to fictional racists you like and simp for, but fictional transphobes you don't are SO HARMFUL they shouldn't even be portrayed in fiction.

Like. Give me a big fat BREAK. This looks like bullshit, no? I'm sorry, but I'd love for someone to try and give any other explanation besides one personally offended you or hit home for you, and the other doesn't.

And if that bothers you or you feel like it says something negative about you...idk what you want me to say??? You can't control how other people perceive you and that's how people outside this majority-of-the-fandom bubble see it. You don't need to respond, I just wish and genuinely hope this gives you a moment to think about why fans who ARE bothered by both (and not just paying lip service to being bothered by the one but railing against the other) are so frustrated with people saying everyone is welcome but in practice only bending over backwards for the comfort and emotions of themselves, and people they can easily relate to.

You don't have to like Thessaly (I don't. I find her an interesting antagonist, I don't stan her. And frankly imo likability is not. the point of her character) but you'll pardon me for feeling more than a bit cynical and side eying people's motivations for what seems a...pretty obvious double standard, on what fictional crimes related to real world issues matter to y'all, and which clearly don't. Either actually bring the same energy to the table for fictional people who committed atrocities, even if against a group you're not part of and thus don't feel the need to empathize with, or just carry on, but accept that you don't have the SLIGHTEST room to talk about cutting characters who do immoral things. And you also need to accept that you look like a hypocrite when you do.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVII.

GIF by darksber

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Obligatory storm chapter.

WORD COUNT: ~13.4k

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

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

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

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

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which he does, obviously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In two days.”

“So what’s the plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently there is such thing as bad press.

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

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

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

Just another part of the fucking job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles dryly, “Tell me about it.”

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

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

Her father? Probably not so much.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t have much of a choice.”

“You’re better off stayin’ with us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paloma could really die a happy woman in his arms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oops,” she says with a feigned innocence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s romance without a little risk?

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

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

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

What a loaded fucking question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thin. Ice.” He repeats.

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

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

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

She looks up at him. “All clean.”

“You want him to kill me.”

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

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

“That a promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I appreciate you letting me bunker down here.”

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

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

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

“Night daddy.”

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

But it’s serving its purpose right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She loves hearing that coming from him.

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

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

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

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

“Javi?”

“¿Si, muñeca?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What’s that, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe she’s already dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His cock springs free, resting heavily against his pelvis.

Her eyes widen, mouth watering.

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

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

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

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

“Where?”

“Donde tú quieras.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The feeling is overwhelming, yet exhilarating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

“I take it as I did a good job?”

“Best I’ve ever had.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s the last thing they need.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Javier finds solace in their sex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you get this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, I was jus’ more careful.”

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

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

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

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

She revels in the feel of him.

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

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

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

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

“I could stay here all night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Olivia’s a beautiful name.”

“She’s precious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[antimony-medusa]

Fascinated by the balancing the admins have to keep going between keeping things fair enough that people don't get disheartened and stop playing, and frustrating enough to live up to the actual narrative conceit of the event being "you are here to suffer for a week because I hate you personally". That's an absolute razor's edge to walk. Like today not elminating anyone off the event scores cause they messed them up, but then also immediately introducing the conceit of op killers who are here to murder your leaders, and then capriciously extending the period the hunters are here killing you, but also throwing a reminder of their humanity at the killers at the end so in-world they get told to keep killing and they say no. I am so tired I feel like I've fallen down the stairs so I'm not really rotating this in a "would I do it that way" way, but boy is that just, fuck is that so many moving parts to try and balance. God.

[lemotmo]

So frustrating that some people are using the “cut it out” picture as proof that Eddie is siding with Gerrard and telling Buck to just keep his head down. Is it impossible for some people to believe… gee I don’t know… maybe Eddie is just looking out for his best friend to make sure he doesn’t do or say something he may regret or get him fired? God forbid some people admit that Eddie is a good friend!!

I got quite a few asks about this today, so I guess someone is spreading this narrative. By answering this ask, I'll have answered all the others as well.

I think we all know that Eddie would NEVER side with Gerrard. The guy is obviously trying to make sure that Buck doesn't escalate an already tension filled situation by saying something that might make Gerrard fire him.

in my humble opinion, theories like these aren't worth worrying over. Sure, I also get frustrated when I see something like this cross my path, but I just move along because I just can't actively care about these bad 'takes' anymore. I'm done. Sometimes, when the attached blog is filled with bad 'takes' like this, I just block and forget.

In the end, we all factually know that theories like these aren't true and they will never be true on the show, so why waste our energy on a build up of frustration? It will only cause you more stress. So just ignore, block if you feel like it, vent in someone's ask box if necessary (😋 which is more than okay by the way) and move on.

So, if you can... let go of the frustration Nonny.

Some people obviously don't know shit about Eddie Diaz and just how fiercely he cares about his friends, so maybe they shouldn't ever write another word about him. (Okay, so maybe I do hold on to a teenie tiny bit of frustration sometimes.😝 This too shall pass.😂)

[spicybylerpolls]

“Nobody does anything cool anymore, and everybody is afraid of everything,” Vinson Cunningham said in a recent roundtable about the death of the sex scene for the New Yorker. “We are in a decadent, post-excitement world.”

The widespread access to porn online, according to Cunningham, raised the bar for a sex scene from titillation to plot. It wasn’t enough to make people horny; a sex scene had to move the story forward or serve a stylistic purpose. Narrative momentum can in itself be a turn-on. As a teenager growing up online, I was significantly less interested in porn, which felt obviously fake, than in Youtube compilations and cuts of various sex scenes, which had the trappings of real characters, and thus real life. The scenes felt fascinating, shocking, spellbinding, adult. Maybe not actually realistic, but vibrant and vital, validation of my own capacity for eroticism. Sex is an essential part of humanity, sex scenes an essential reflection of the human experience. Perhaps the most frustrating element of this particular anti-sex scene argument is its fixation on a justification for sex on-screen, as if people wanting to have sex or wanting to be turned on is not character-driven or important enough. To deny the power of sex on-screen is to deny one of the core reasons to watch anything in the first place: desire, a basic human impulse and a gift.

from this article: https(:)//archive.ph/VqXbY

And as relates to byler and culture itself, another piece....

In a culture of convenience, where values are understood increasingly through their digital imprints, things feel nauseatingly 2D because they literally are. Marshall McLuhan predicted this a long time ago. [in the 60s with his 'the medium is the message' - a concept which relates to ST as a whole!] I’ve started thinking of this quality as sexlessness. I’m using sex here as a euphemism for the natural arousal that attends life in 3D, sexual or not. It is the antithesis of the gamified pleasure we pursue online, which has now infiltrated our values offline too. Consider beauty, which is today often understood as a set of objective, imitable, purchasable characteristics, rather than a quality experienced through movement, context, subjectivity, mystery, actual presence. When I think of the dominant trends of the last five or 10 years, most of them engender this same lack of humanity: personal branding; biohacking; virtual reality; reality television; fillers and filters; botox and plastic surgery; being extremely online; corporate activism; minimalism; cancel culture; labels for every type of person and personality... One way to view the irritating state of things is as a kind of collective sexual frustration. '“Nobody does anything cool anymore, and everybody is afraid of everything."'

The above is from: https(:)//haleynahman.substack.com/p/89-the-death-of-sex

I see this page has died down a bit but wanted to drop this for any deep thinkers out there, because it speaks to the wider issue and shows how spicy byler tumblr (and indeed byler tumblr, and by extension ST fandom and all fandom itself) is part of this wider issue of being engrossed in the kind of culture that removes you from visceral, realistic pleasures and what this might mean for society.

Can we expect eroticism from Stranger Things? Not in an arthouse way, I don't think, but i'm fascinated to see how they position themselves in the zeitgeist of gay media, conservative media, and media that is willing to portray sex - especially considering that the portrayal of sex could and would indeed have narrative purpose for mike and will. the duffers might just have set up one of the best stories to portray this experience, and redefine the entire genre if they can pull it off.

Always grateful for your thoughts and contributions to the spicy byler fandom (and the byler fandom at large), scrunchietown. It's so true that there's a general sexlessness in media, even as people try to complain that everything's too sexualized when that's not true, especially not in mainstream movies. Last summer there were a lot of people freaking out about the (pretty tame) sex scene in Oppenheimer! Perhaps there are more sex scenes in Max shows like Euphoria, but even so, I do think the Duffers have the opportunity to do something truly special and redefine the sex scene. Byler has the opportunity to be groundbreaking in so many ways!

"One way to view the irritating state of things is as a kind of collective sexual frustration."

Society if Byler helps to heal our collective sexual frusturation:

[mtkay13]

I accidentally sent a keysmash! I'm really sorry but I hope it can bring at least a laugh to you. I opened your askbox to make a consideration about TYK: I'm not sure if anyone has already talked about this, but I think Faraway Wanderers is a romcom with a wuxia subplot and not vice versa. I don't know how to articulate this more but I really feel like all the gruesome details make the romance humourous in a way (WWX and ZZS flirting often happens during very violent fights and the consequence is that you can't take neither the violence nor the romance very seriously) but also give depth to it thematically (the need of finding peace in one's own life as opposed to a lifetime of struggle and cruelty). It's like the wuxia setting is functional to the love story.

Helloooo!! Haha yeah the keysmash was very interesting hahaha, thank you for that <3 .

And thank you for bringing this up!! I have given it a bit of thought today, and I feel ready to respond now, haha.

First of all, it was great food for thought, and I personally think it's a great way to look at TYK.

There is definitely a play on genres within TYK, and I think that the wuxia-ness of the story is absolutely taking a backseat for the human relationships and dynamics to happen at the foreground. If anything, it initially does feel like an accessory or an artificial setting to put the characters in and let them do their thing while nearly ignoring most of the background plot during the story.

I also fully agree that there is a surprising lightness and a lot of humor in the way the story is presented; not only are WKX and ZZS quite funny, but the whole cast is often made fun of, turned into a joke--the LLJ (glazed armor) itself is a rather ridiculous McGuffin, and on top of that Priest really likes to tank her climaxes and emotional beats with either jokes or sudden events that both give whiplash and considerably defuse the tension (or outright turn the whole scene into a joke, LOL).

I think the twist I find in that is: WenZhou mostly deal with everything that happen in their lives with lightness because… it's what they are used to, it's maybe not that big of a deal, and it's also a way to not make it so serious when it threatens to be overwhelming. The extreme violence is normalcy, and it's that "casualness" that can suddenly make it jarring once recontextualized. The same way the wuxia genre is subverted in TYK (in the way the story doesn't follow the typical wuxia storyline, in the way some themes are turned on their heads), I'd argue that the romantic comedy genre is also subverted, and at times borders on…. tragedy, to be honest?

I feel like the latter part of the books, although some scenes like WKX's aborted confession (when he tells ZZS he'd like to spend the rest of his life with him, but then laughs it off like it was a joke, for the tone of the scene to then flip and be about the loss of WKX's parents); the scene where ZZS sings Li Sao, and many more later, and of course not to mention the entire last ark and extra 4---all of those passages send the message that actually, most of this was serious. In a way, those scenes, and the latter part, reframe the narrative to make that lightness serious, and as it turns out, the romance, the violence, all of that was serious and meant to be taken seriously.

The humor was there to cover for sorrow, frustration, disillusion, investment, and all of those more serious, deeper feelings. The ridiculous wuxia plot was no joke and was the core of WKX's entire life story. ZZS has a very serious backstory when it comes to attachement, to love, to commitment, and is going through a lot regarding his own ambitions, goals, and what living means to him, etc. On top of that, the wuxia story responds to Qi Ye's themes and storyline as well. So---the wuxia "subplot" is irrelevant until it becomes sadly relevant.

So to summarize… I almost want to say that it's a tragic love story set in a dramatic wuxia setting disguised as a romcom set in a setting of wuxia subversion, hahaha. Like you put it very well, actually; the way both genre are articulated around each other, and the way the romance and relationship between WenZhou take precedency over the wuxia narrative allows for it to be explored with depth.

I feel like the gradual deepening of seriousness is also to signify that, when people start mattering, when the characters care for each other, the events of the story start mattering in ways that they can't just be light and comical. The way the romantic comedy topes and the mockery of some wuxia archetypes only serve to amplify that and make it even stronger, more apparent, in contrast.

Anyway!!! Hahah thank you for raising those considerations and discussion points! I actually really wanted to engage properly and think about it thoroughly to the point I asked some people around to see what they thought and what they had to say as well. I really enjoyed it and I thought it was a great angle to go about the story. If you have anything you want to bounce off from this or feel like responding, I'd also be very, very pleased.

Many, many thanks for reaching out!!!!!!