#it is very shallow but it's always been like that because there's still a group that falls for those baits 🤦🏻‍♀️

[thoughts-reasons]

[gabrielapazlima]

Why do i ship Cuddlejump⚡️❤️

(Hoppy hopscotch x Bobby bearhug)

And how i see their dynamic being like!

if you guys follow me for a while you guys may already noticed my very normal adimiration for the ship between hoppy hopscotch and bobby bearhug from the smiling critters...its not like they are 90% of my art gallery and that i cannot shut the fuck up about this ship hahaha right?

well,yea,i really,really,REALLY like them- its a ship that i pratically came up with first than anyone and somehow other ppl ended up found of them....but why? Why does Gabriela da paz lima is so normally obcessed with the ideia of a green tomboy rabbit n a red carebear being a couple?

At fist you may think "Uhh it is probally because of the classic tomboy tough girl x soft girly girl archetype right?" and yea,i can see why ppl think that is a very famous lesbian ship dynamic i respect ppl that are solid into them bc of it.... but its deeper to me than that...first i want to talk abt hoppy n bobby's solo characters first!

Hoppy Hopscotch⚡️🐰

ngl when i entered this fandom she was like,my favorite...i still love her tho

she is basically the energetic tomboy of the group acording w her official descreptions,she is also know as THE big motivation force of the critters,always pushing them out their comfort and have a very adventuous n positive spirit-

BUT she have very noticeble characters flaws as well,not only she is quite loud but she tends to be bossy n really impatient,being described as someone that can be "handful to deal with",and before the book release she is literaly the only critters with her character flaws listed-

i always liked how her personality is kinda complexish in comparassion to other critters,she is clealy have a good heart,very loyal n likes to help the others (which we can see in her cardboard line) but she can come up as rough n "overwhelming" in the way that she does it,she doesnt have the intention of hurt or being mean but she still comes as rude due her lack of patience n understanding( cof cof autism) of ppl's limits-

i really like her i feel like she is SO underrated:( you guys have to STOP make her a bully,she is NOT like that.)

Bobby bearhug🐻❤️

i love bobby so much that is not even funny,she is my kin baby-

she seems to be the typical shallow love girl at first sight but...theres so much more abt this carebear....

in her descreptions she is basically the mom friend of the group,she is here to keep her friends together not matter what,she is very phisically affecionate,she is emotional inteligent being very patient n understanding ( which is kinda of what hoppy lacks 👀) n her compassion don't limits itself to only hed friends but to things,places n basically any living thing-

she seems to be pretty much the perfect girl right?...well yea almost....and then theres her voice lines that give a very tonal shift to her character....

"i love you to the moon and back!im CRAZY about you...im lost without you...i been lost a long time....please take me with you this time....you'won't leave,will you?!"

at first it seems some kinda yandere shit but reading more and more deep in that,it sounds so desesperate n sad tbh...i seems like she is not thay confident by herself n DEEPLY fears the abandoment...which is...very ironical for HER character...

"But these lines are about the bbis destiny" yea i know but these lines are ALSO reflected in their cartoon personalities,like kickin being scared n hoppy being impatient...it very likely that is ALSO linked to her canon personality as well...which also makes me think in what amber said about her...

Damn thats....so relatable...i always try my best to be there for other ppl but im always so hard to myself when i know that i should not....thats a perfect irony to the "love character"...

she does not have that much of strong will for herself,she does not love herself in the same way that she loves everyone...she feels weak and defenceless n unwanted being at her own because she doesnt feel enough...

fuck,im crying...They will NEVER make me hate you,bobby bearhug.

🐰⚡️About Hoppy n Bobby's relationship🐻❤️

you see...they are both are very complex girls that love to support people on their own distinte ways,hoppy is the more of phisical support crittet while bobby is the emotional support critter- they deeply care about their friends and they want see them trying news things...i would say that they both valorize support over anything,thats their main atribute-

but they are also deeply flawed in very different ways,hoppy is impatient,bossy n can come off as rude bc of her lack of caring side....also very reckless as consequence....(kinda the reason of why she died) Bobby is very emotional dependent which causes her to panic over the ideia of being alone n doesnt like trying to push herself to do anything when she is feeling too alone( that also can be the reason of why she died)...

they flaws n qualities...weidly compliment each other well...hoppy needs more emotional inteligence n more understanding,not only of other ppl's limits but her own limits.... Bobby needs strengh will and motivation due her deep insecurities and self loath,she can be stronger than she is at her own,and hoppy can show that to her-

i feel like they dynamic is really strong and be summarized as "Besides all our differences,we value the same thing and in the end of the day,i really need you"

i just REALLY love comprimentary duos + opposite atract sorry- call me basic bitch.

💚More of their dynamic plus personal headcanons❤️

i like to think that hoppy would be sighly unconfortable with bobby's affection fowards her at first but she is slowly beggins to enjoy it and reciprocate it-

i also like to think that they would be the ones to come up with the group's activities together,hoppy tries to do batshit insane stuff but bobby tones them down to be safier-(they MIGHT go into lil fights abt it)

also hoppy really enjoys bobby's anger/tough moments because she is surprising REALLY strong but she always never show it-

hoppy also tends to be emotional but she nevr shows it util bobby find it by her own and she ended uo breaking her tough girl persona in front of her(which of course bobby accepts)

Bobby,hoppy n kickin were kinda of a trio and they basically the over loving girl,the cool "chill" guy and the hyperative dumbass...it fits them...

i have a MILLIONS of stuff to say about them but i would be here forever sooo i hope you guys have enjoyed my yapping about cuddlejump:)

BYE!!!

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

The World Keeps Getting Hotter, Baby, but I’m Too Cool to Die

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Pre-series; The Line-Up; Whisperers Arc

Warnings: Domestic violence; Child abuse; Injuries; Blood; Allusions to alcoholism; Mentions of canonical character death

Summary: Three times Daryl didn’t fear death and the one time he did.

gif by @jaaryl

Daryl had honestly never feared death. Sometimes, he felt it would even come as a reprieve from a life that had taken such a toll on every aspect of his very being. He had seldom wished for it, mostly as a child who didn’t understand the permanence. He wanted to follow his mama, who often took the beatings meant for him. 

Even in her near constant drunken stupors, she would reach for him from the bed, fresh blood and bruises still adorning her pale skin. C’mere, baby. It’s okay. When she died and Merle ran, Daryl faced their father’s wrath alone. 

“Worthless, bitch-ass mama’s boy.” The rough leather of the well worn belt was a follow up sting to the skin-tearing agony of the metal buckle. “Gon’ toughen ya up. Won’t have no pussy Dixon livin’ in my house.”

Daryl just laid there, watching the new flecks of crimson fall in sporadic splatterings on the dirty wooden floor. He circled the thought of his mother reaching for him, shushing and soothing in her slurred voice. It was almost enough to numb the angry wounds long after the onslaught was over. 

“I'll find ya, mama. We can run away together.”

He wasn’t a stranger to motorcycles. Merle had taken him down the backroads, no destination in mind. The elder Dixon had been working on obtaining his license but was already a skilled rider. 

He’d show up at the most opportune moments, almost like he was listening for the old man to pass out drunk. Daryl was older then, early teens making things more confusing as he went through changes he didn’t understand. He’d never speak them aloud for fear of invoking his father’s rage or his brother’s ridicule. He kept quiet and waited excitedly for the times his brother would offer him peace on the open road. 

Merle hadn’t noticed the pine needles on the wet asphalt until it was too late. 

Daryl could only remember bits and pieces. His brother’s distorted face and muffled voice. Keep them eyes open, boy! The younger man found he didn’t care to oblige. Maybe if he closed his bright blues, he’d wake up in a different life. Loving parents, good grades, a house in the suburbs complete with a dog that was always happy to see him. 

He was actually disappointed when he woke up in the hospital, broken arm and severe concussion, his body throbbing. 

Merle was already gone again. An officer took him home where Will Dixon broke the cast within an hour and twisted the skin above the break. 

Daryl missed his brother. 

It was his fault Glenn had died. Maybe Abraham should be on his conscience as well. If he’d never stormed off, half-cocked and hell bent, they would have all been there to make sure the group made it to Hilltop. The line up would have never happened because all the best fighters would have been together, functioning as a well oiled machine to plow the Saviors down. 

But Daryl had to be stubborn. He had to do things his way. And now Abraham and Glenn were dead, Maggie was a widow, and her baby would never know their father. 

He was losing blood. The wound was through and through, steadily freeing his lifeblood without medical intervention. As the van bounced and jarred over the rough gravel, the archer hissed and sluggishly pressed a hand over the weeping hole so close to his collarbone. Yet the blood on his hands wasn’t his. It was Glenn’s. 

His vision was graying at the edges, his skin colder without the blanket that had been left on the rough ground where his family mourned. They likely spit on the fabric, the only thing among them that had been somewhat his. Even if he lived, he could never go back and face their anger. 

His breaths came slower, more shallow. He was growing numb and exhaustion had him giving in to the urge to close his eyes. 

If there was a god, maybe he’d see fit to take Daryl and toss him into hell in exchange for Glenn being returned to Maggie. 

He’d lost you. The cave had collapsed and you had been swallowed by the dust and debris. It had been suggested there were other ways out, that maybe you had escaped after all. Only to go back to Alexandria or Hilltop, to reunite with Kelly, Yumiko, and Luke while discovering Daryl had gone off on his own—again—and let rage drive him. 

He was stupid to think he could coerce Alpha into revealing anything that might benefit him or aid in your rescue. He’d been reckless and now he was paying for it. Blood was no longer spurting from the wound in his thigh, the veins having long ago slowed the gush when his heartrate began to decelerate. 

He was gonna die there, bleed out and never know if you were safe. For the first time, he found he didn’t want to go. You, arriving with Magna and her group, had charmed your way right past his defenses and straight into his heart. He had been a lovesick fool, grasping the unfamiliar feeling with both hands until his knuckles turned white. 

You were completely and utterly transparent in your reciprocation, doting over his injuries and ensuring he took care of himself. You were glued to his side, throwing yourself into the fray when anything could possibly pose a threat to him, much to his displeasure. You were sweet as honey, but stubborn as an ox. Fierce and loyal, downright lethal when someone you loved was threatened. 

And you loved him. Of all the people left in the world, you had chosen him. 

And he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to escape the pain. He didn’t care to see Merle again yet or run into his mama’s arms. He had longed to hear the innocence in Beth’s singing that he’d failed to protect, but found that it wasn’t as important as what he had there, in life. 

He actually had a life. He could settle down with you, even if he couldn’t promise you complete safety and peace. You were still young enough for children if you wanted them, and he’d never deny you that even if he felt he’d be a shit father. He wanted to go home to you at the end of the day and let you whisper away the stress he couldn’t leave outside the door. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, touch you, love you. 

He didn’t want to die not knowing if you were alive and that those things were possible. 

He wheezed, forced to blink hard to battle against his eyes’ will to close. He was cold. He no longer felt the pain of the wound. 

He wasn’t ready anymore. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to risk leaving you. He didn’t want to die.

“Daryl.”

The archer gasped, summoning all the strength he had left to slide his eyes toward where the sun was now beaming into the cold garage. 

There you were, carrying the light behind you like a pair of wings. Like his vest, but bright and beautiful. He could make out your face as you lowered to hover above him. Your hand was warm against his cheek, it felt near scalding pressed to his chilled skin. 

“You’re alive.” He managed in a rough whisper. Even with your features vibrating, he could see that beautiful smile. “M’dyin’, Sunshine. Don’t wanna go.” Someone was working on his leg but he couldn’t be bothered to check or even ask. Your lips pressed against his blood streaked forehead. 

“You’re not going anywhere. Not today.”  Daryl sighed. He believed you. It was always so easy to do, but he could tell you weren’t placating. “You’re too cool for that.” 

He was going to live and he was going to love you right. 

[itsabouttimex2]

Taken Abroad is sooo good! And the accompanying memes are great too 💖

Bro imagine if demon reader went full hardcore one day and just keeps letting to circlets dig into their flesh and bone until their hands just fall off, using the second they separate to vanish. Like they are a forest demon, so what if they just regrow their hands? Or make prosthetic nature ones? Like I’m sure their freedom wouldn’t last long (thanks to Monkey King’s gold vision) but I’d love to see the group’s reaction to such gruesome determination!

Taken Aboard:

Amputation

I’m glad you like it! I really thought that the Journeyfam should have a mix of goofy and tragic, because the novel itself can get pretty damn funny.

Another ‘funny’ thing? This little stunt wouldn’t work at all. Given what we know about Wukong’s powers, he can rip his head off and regenerate it (His beheading contest with the Tiger Strength Immortal in the novel) and since he’s still got the circlet after that…

Y/N will still have theirs.

And obviously no one is happy to see that this child would do something so horribly gruesome and bloody to themself, leaving to a wide array of horrified reactions.

Ao Lie is devastated that you would hurt yourself for any reason at all. Once you’ve been dragged back to camp by the snickering Monkey King, the dragon prince rushes to your side and snatches you up, nuzzling you to his chest. “Oh, I’m glad you’re alright! You poor little thing, what were you thinking? Trying to slice those bands off! Sweetie, what if something had gone wrong during the regrowing process? Here, let Brother Lie wash the blood off of you!”

He dotes on you for a good hour or two, starting by thoroughly scrubbing you down in a shallow washbasin. (He heats the water in his draconic form.) There’s a mixture of very light scolding and extraordinary concern, scraping all across your body with a wooden bath brush. Once you’re nice and clean you get wrapped up in one of his spare robes to dry off, forced to sit and listen to one of the monk’s lectures as Lie brushes out and braids your hair.

“I think you need to start sleeping in Brother Lie’s tent from now on, sweetie. Maybe it’ll help to keep those little feet from wandering, hmm?”

His voice is gentle, even as you’re forcibly stuffed into a thick sleeping bag, the same one that Lie always uses. For a moment you think he’s simply going to watch you to prevent any further escapades, but then he squishes in beside you, wrapping you tight in his arms.

“Sleep well, sweetie. Big brother will keep you safe.”

———————————————————————-

Sun Wukong laughs at you first, having tried the same thing by: smashing his forehead inwards, shattering his skull entirely, ripping his head off, etc. “You could have just asked for some advice on the cuffs, bud. I would’ve told ya that they jump back to your real body, y’know!”

His hands work through the tangled locks of your hair, plucking out juicy bugs and crunchy twigs. “Shut up,” you huff, squirming around in his lap. “I hate them. And you wouldn’t have known whether or not it would’ve worked! You only have one of them!” “S’not fair,” he half-heartedly agrees, if only to set up his next few word. “You should’ve just had one- around your neck to shut you up!”

The Great Sage giggles as you lunge at him, dodging your attempt to bite his wrist. “Easy, easy! C’mon, I was just teasing you!” He grabs your waist and wrestles you to the ground, his fingers dragging lightly across your skin as he tries to force a few giggles or even just a smile out of you. Between angry laughs you manage to throw a punch, feeling his snout bend under your hand.

And though it doesn’t hurt worse than a mild sting, Wukong is still a little astounded that his ‘little sibling’ got outright violent with him. “…you know what, bud? Maybe you do need some ‘quiet time’. I’m gonna keep you here in my lap for a few more hours, I think. And! No saying even a word!”

And before you can argue or complain he tacks on a “How bout I tell you another story from my time back in Flower Fruit Mountain, huh?” Of course you get a story, because this isn’t really a punishment, after all. He’s just framing it as one so you ‘have’ to sit and spend time with one. He’s a pretty clever monkey.

“…a story about killing hunters?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

———————————————————————-

Sha Wujing has no words. He’s hurt and saddened that you would do this to yourself, nearly in tears at the sight of your wounds. He finally has people who accept not only his mistakes and misdeed, but his demonic form alongside them.

And now one has done this.

To Wujing, this isn’t just a team of random travelers. This is his family. You are his family. And he cannot bear to see you so upset and distraught that you might switch to such gruesome and self-injurious behaviors.

The river demon will switch to baby gloves afterwards, treating you like a porcelain figure that is bound to shatter when mishandled.

He’ll carry you on his shoulders and his back and in his arms, squishing your tiny form perfectly into his protective chest. For hours on end the demon will usher you about, never daring to let you free from the safety and security that his power offers.

Instead of allowing you to feed yourself, Wujing will first cut your meals into pieces and then feed them to you piece by piece, ensuring that you won’t choke (intentionally or otherwise) on them. And he won’t let you get dressed alone, either. Sleeves are a useful tool, after all.

He sees the severance of your limbs more as a form of “self-harm” than an attempt to escape, unfortunately for you. It leads him to think of you as a danger to yourself that needs to be properly wrangled and tended to.

All you can do when he’s around from then on is submit to “Brother Sand’s” loving care, and pray he might stop thinking of you as unstable and prone to breakage.

———————————————————————-

Zhu Bajie is thoroughly disgusted, though that revulsion is born mostly of worry. Nobody wants to see a kid slice off their own wrists, and he certainly wasn’t hoping to see you standing in a puddle of your own blood, your torn flesh bubbling sizzling and bubbling up as it regrew.

And he especially didn’t want something so awful to happen to his little sibling. Not to someone so very precious to him.

Bajie really just… doesn’t know what to do.

You’re hurt. Usually this scenario ends with him either eating a human or smashing a demon’s head open with his nine-tooth rake. And he’d fight off the monk’s reprimands with his own volley of justifications. “Y/N is a child! Any jerk who would hurt them is unforgivable!” He’d declare, his mouth stained with fresh crimson. “A demon who would put their hands on a child is just a monster, that’s all,” the pig might yell, clutching you to his chest protectively.

Neither of those are options when you’ve the person that hurt you is yourself.

All the swine can really do is hold you and try not to scream your ear off about never hurting yourself again, rocking back and forth like he’s trying to soothe a baby to sleep.

Maybe that will help.

Maybe if he holds you long enough and keeps his grip tight, Bajie can prevent you from being hurt by anyone or anything ever again.

Or maybe it’s just his way of keeping you from leaving him and this little family again.

———————————————————————-

Tang Sanzang, reasonable man that he is, understands that you’re not in a great headspace right now. If things got so bad that you viewed the gory removal of your arms as a reasonable option to escape, then what you need isn’t further punishment… but a firm and guiding hand.

So the monk refrains from the sutra and chooses instead to tend to your fragile condition. Reassurance that he isn’t angry at what you’ve done to yourself, a promise that you’re already forgiven for running. I think he’s likely to mandate constant surveillance of you from now, always to be under the eye of either him or one of his disciples.

He tends any wounds or aches with balm, stitches the tears in your clothing, then puts you to bed with a canteen of water at your side.

His well of patience is truly endless, only leaving room for an occasional reprimand or a quick tightening of the blessed bands on your wrists. There’s no lashing out, no brutal punishments.

Hurting yourself has not changed that.

Sanzang will spend each early morning before travel checking you over for new wounds and changing out any bandages you’ve got wrapped around old injuries.

The Great Monk stills cherishes you, of course. He’ll never stop cherishing you.

He’s just a little more gentle with that love now.

[chilumi-shipper]

Forget and Regret (2)

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader

Summary: Part 2 of "Forget and Regret", Ayato is being plagued by dreams, you think he doesn't need you anymore, but for some reason, he really can't just leave you alone. Many moments of pain came before comfort.

Tags: Angst w/ happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, Crying, A little swearing, Maybe a little naughty in the end (nothing explicit)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ayato walked into the room, his eyes landing on a girl lying on his bed, her shoulders shaking as little sobs filled the quiet room.

Her figure was covered by a blanket, and though he could not see her up front, he knew that she was clutching the sheets to her chest.

"Love?" He called out for the girl, the endearment falling naturally from his lips.

The girl did not look at him, but he knows that he's gained her attention.

She tried to control her breath, trying not to make her shallow and sobbing breaths obvious.

"I-I'm sorry..." The girl said in such a small and quiet voice, the stuttering making it obvious that she had been crying. "I k-know it's stupid, b-but I just wanted to give you a g-gift." Ayato had been hearing a lot of this 'gift' thing. He has no idea what is happening, yet the sight of the girl crying in front of him just makes him want to coddle her and make her feel better.

"I should say my apologies as well, my love..." His mouth moved on its own, letting him say words for which he did not know the context. "I didn't mean to lose my temper. I may have been angry, but I would never ever dream of hurting you." 

"I-I regret not saying this sooner, my dear Y/-"

The Yashiro Commissioner stirred awake, groaning as his eyes slowly opened.

He grabbed a pillow by his side and covered his face with it. 

Yet another dream, of the same girl, no less.

And every single time, every waking moment after a dream like that, Ayato felt like his heart was being vigorously tugged on, a sense of regret oozing from the back of his mind. And try as he might, no explanation ever arose to answer his questions.

So, just like every time that this happened, he shrugged off the feelings conveyed by the dreams before finally getting out of bed.

...

"Have you heard? The Commissioner and his wife had a fight." You hear the whispered rumours of some of the workers in the estate, making you sigh.

"Yeah, but people have been saying that she left him. Here she is now, though, so maybe it's all just exaggerated." 

"No! I was here a few weeks ago, and I heard the Lord himself screaming angrily. Could it be that he was mad at Lady Kamisato?" 

"Could be, not to mention that Lady Ayaka has been acting weird lately. She's taking over all of the Lord's duties; I wonder what's happening inside their home."

"Ladies, please. Let's all just stop with all the gossip and get to work?" Thoma approached the workers gathered around to talk about the Kamisato siblings and you, keeping his polite smile as he asked them to get back to work.

After the group got back to their duties, the blonde walked up to you.

"My lady." He addressed you like always, making you look down a bit. "The Shuumatsuban thanks you for your generous donations and help on their mission against the Fatui."

Lately, you've been going back to the estate, both to gather your things without attracting attention and to pay back for what you did a few weeks back.

You also did some digging around the Fatui in Inazuma; it took quite a while, and though it almost got you in danger with the organization, you got a few useful pieces of information for the Shuumatsuban. You feel that this is only appropriate because you accidentally sabotaged them before.

"Umm, please tell them that I'm glad I could do something good for them." You smiled at him, feeling a little bit flustered. Your interactions with Thoma have been very awkward lately; he's still against what you're doing with Ayato. "Thanks for everything, Thoma." 

He merely nods before watching you walk out of the estate, presumably going back home.

"I didn't know that she worked here." The retainer heard his lord's voice from behind him, making him turn around to face him. "I wish I had the chance to talk to her again." Thoma noticed how Ayato's blueish-purple eyes followed the trail you walked on, perhaps thinking about you as he did so.

This is why he thinks what you're doing is silly. One look at his lord and he sees the interest in you oozing from him, even at his current state.

"Well, technically, she doesn't work here. But she plays a very important role in the estate." Thoma clarified, making the periwinkle-haired man think.

"Oh, what do you mean by that, Thoma?" The Commissioner asked curiously.

"Well, though I do want to explain, I know it would be far better if she did so herself, my lord." He left it at that, not letting Ayato press further.

...

"Hi."

As you were fixing everything up at the front of the Kamisato Estate, you heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

You turned around, your eyes meeting another pair that looked pleased to see you. "Y/N, I was hoping to see you again." Ayato said with a smile.

Your breath hitched, you instinctively walked a little away from him.

"Oh, no need to be nervous or anything. I mean, I know I'm kind of an important figure or something, but..." He cleared his throat, chuckling a little. "I hope that I don't scare you away."

You sighed, bowing your head. "Lord Kamisato, I'm just finishing up my work."

"No need for formalities, you can just call me Ayato. After all, I owe you my life." He stated, walking a bit closer to you. "Thank you again, I can't stress that enough."

You couldn't look up at his face, not up his smiling and gentle face, at least not while keeping yourself from bursting to tears, admitting that you're his wife and that you did something that made him resent you.

He looked at your timid form, your hands clasped together tightly. Perhaps he should do something to ease the tension you were feeling.

"Once again, you're welcome, my lord. I..." His ears perked, he heard you sniffle, and he could've sworn that your hand reached up to your face to wipe a tear away.

It's all too familiar for him for some reason.

He has no idea what is happening, yet the sight of the girl crying in front of him just makes him want to coddle her and make her feel better.

"I'm... g-gonna take my leave now." You quickly ran away from him, making Ayato look at your running figure in shock.

He truly did not expect you to be overwhelmed just by talking to him.

And he couldn't explain why, but something in him screamed to run after you and hug you and tell you that everything is okay and that he's sorry.

...Are you... her?

...

Everyday after that encounter, it seems that the periwinkle-haired man was always there by you're side, trying to initiate a conversation.

You've gotten better at containing yourself around him. But still, you'd rather him not be there, you'd rather not be on the brink of heart attack every minute of the day.

Once you realized that he was gonna try and talk to you everytime you go to the estate, you actively tried to spend as little amount of time as possible.

Thoma and Ayaka were not gonna let that happen though.

You were about to leave and take a few days off, but then Thoma approached you. "My lady, Lady Ayaka was hoping that you'd come in tomorrow and help her with the organization of the upcoming festival." He passed on your sister-in-law's message. "Since you've helped my lord with this business before, you might be a great help."

You honestly should have seen this coming. And even if they're making it seem like you had a choice, they knew you'd cave in, they knew you'd come tomorrow and try to help.

They most certainly planned to give Ayato the chance to work on the festival so that you help him with it instead of Ayaka when you came in the next day.

"So... this is my job."

You hated to admit that you were amused with Ayato's reactions to things he had to do.

"Yes, my lov- my lord." He cleared your throat immediately, hoping he didn't catch that mistake. You chastised yourself, for letting your guard down.

"What do we do first?" Though you found his excitement to work again and rediscover what he does for a living very cute and amusing, you stand stiff and focused.

He's not your husband.

You remind yourself constantly as you work on the task at hand.

The cycle continues though, Ayaka and Thoma will make sure that you have a reason to come back to the estate, basically setting Ayato up for at least an hour with you almost everyday.

And you could not even describe how tired you are, tired of constantly being on your guard, tired of pretending to not be his wife.

But this is for him, this is what he wants. He said so himself, you should always remember that.

...

He wants to take you out on a date.

Though Ayato had many conflicting feelings about his situation, and his lost memories, he thought that surely making some nice memories bow would do him some good.

Ayato finds that you are quite shy towards him, never meeting his eyes and always speaking to him in a low and mumbly voice.

He found your mannerisms cute too! Even when you don't look at him much, he often has his eyes on you, seeing how your eyes light up a bit when he says something funny or amusing.

Which is why he asked the help of his sister and his retainer to ask you out on a date around town.

"Y/N, may I talk to you, please?" You heard Ayaka's soft voice call out for you.

You walked up to her. "Umm... Anything I can for you?" Again, awkward interactions because she also doesn't approve of your actions.

"I was thinking, brother really wants to explore around the city, especially since the festival that you both planned starts tomorrow night." You already knew what she was gonna say next.

Thoma stood next to her, "I think my lord feels the most comfortable around you, so why not go with him tonight?"

You sighed, looking at them with a frown. "Guys, please... I-I know what you're doing. Thoma, you heard him! He wants nothing to do with me." Thoma looked at you disapprovingly.

"My lady, Lord Ayato loves you more than anything. Why hurt the both of you like this over things that were said out of angry?"

"Y/N... do you still love my brother?" Ayaka looked at you expectantly, her voice laced with doubt.

You looked at her in disbelief. "...I love him more than anything, words cannot explain just how much." You stated firmly, closing your eyes as a few tears fell from your eyes. "And I know he's better off without me."

Ayaka's hands closed into a fist, "I'm your family too! I love you too! You can't just leave us, not because of a stupid fight!" Tears of her own fell down her face, sobs escaping her mouth.

Thoma held her to make sure she didn't break down to the ground. You stood there in shock, before snapping out of it and cupping Ayaka's face.

"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry." You pulled her into a hug, and she immediately melted into you. "I won't completely vanish. I promise I'll still be here, even if I'm not your sister-in-law anymore." You felt her shake her head on your shoulder.

But she couldn't speak anymore, she merely hugged you and sobbed away. You couldn't help but cry along with her.

...

"Y/N!" You immediately wiped away your tears, hearing Ayato's voice call your name.

Ayaka left you and went back into the house half an hour ago, and you decided to stay for a bit and let some tears out before running off home.

His voice was friendly and cheery, "Thoma and Ayaka said that they talked to you about... Um, you know, tomorrow night..." He scratched the back of his head, acting a bit flustered. "It may seem lame to ask you out using my sister, hehe." He's completely unaware of what happened half an hour prior.

"So what do you say?" He looked at you expectantly.

He's not your husband.

Say no.

"I'll meet you at Uyuu Restaurant at seven."

You wanted to choke yourself to death for being a frustrating and stubborn little bitch.

...

The people of Inazuma aren't aware of what happened to the Yashiro Commissioner, the Kamisato Clan made sure no news ever got leaked. To the eyes of others, it may just look like the Lord of the Kamisato Clan and his wife going out for an evening together, but in reality, everything is just a complicated mess.

And you are extremely tired, so, to finally end everything and let Ayato go, you concocted a plan so that Ayato wouldn't ever want to be with you ever again.

You were gonna be the most infuriating date ever.

Showing up late and putting no effort to how you look, eating a lot, asking for many expensive things, judging his every move, things like that. That should be enough, right?

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

No, it wasn't.

7:10 pm

You walked up to the table Ayato was sitting in. You were in your sleepwear, a purple matching cotton pajamas and top with your hair in a messy bun.

His eyes found yours and he immediately smiled. "You look really cute."

Your mouth dropped, seriously?!

7:20 pm

"I would like Sakura Tempura, a Sashimi Platter, an Egg Roll, and Dango, please!" You said to the waiter, looking at Ayato to see his reaction.

"Is that too much?" You asked him, hoping to provoke him a little.

"Not at all!" He stated with a smile, looking down on his menu. "Your orders are actually quite cheap. How about I order you some sake and more dessert as well?"

"No nee-" You couldn't stop him from ordering those for you too.

This isn't working.

8:00 pm

That festival mask was 10,000 mora. This may be too much, but you had to do something to salvage the plan.

"Ayato, look!" You exclaimed, setting his attention to the mask. It has many intricate designs, and a few gems stuck on it.

"Do you want it? I bet it would look very pretty on you."

'Ohhh... but the mask is really expensive...' You were feeling already feeling sorry.

"Y-Yeah..." You said quietly, but he heard it, taking out a bag of mora and approaching the merchant selling it.

You weren't paying attention, so when you felt him place the mask on your head, just above your face, your cheeks flushed.

"Just as I suspected, gorgeous..."

8:30 pm

This isn't working...

You've been walking and doing all kinds of things in the festival for a while, and the date is going so well. This wasn't supposed to happen!

You even tried being rude to him, saying how he walks too slow, his clothes are uneven, or he... you weren't really good at being rude.

"You walk too slow."

"I apologize if I'm bothering you. If you'll allow it, let me hold your hand so that we stay with each other's pace." You walked around the festival hand in hand for the rest of the date.

"Your clothes are uneven."

"Oh, I can't really see it. Can you fix the uneven part for me?" So then, you were stuck fixing the nonexistent uneven part of his clothes, holding the fabric.... just like when you would fix his clothes for him in the morning back then...

'No... stop that, please.'

Ayato's pleasant self negated every 'bad' thing you did.

He could only be more amused as he saw you very obviously thinking, perhaps of another 'insult' you could throw at him.

You were just too cute.

9:00 pm

He invites you to go to Amakumo Island with him as an ending to your date. Seems he got the whole night planned out... he does that a lot for your dates, which you do find amusing.

...Stop.

Of course, you could only agree, knowing that Thoma and Ayaka would light your butt on fire if you ever left Ayato on his own tonight (a part of your decision maybe because you wanted to spend more time with your husband, but you still didn't have a choice).

You sat at the peek of the small island, looking at the see that reflected the stars in the night. It's a beautiful night.

Ayato sighed, scooting a bit closer to you. When you looked at his face, you could see that it seems to display an expression of contentment.

He turns to look at you, making you immediately straightened your head, trying to make it look like you weren't looking at him just then.

It obviously didn't work as an amused chuckle left his lips.

He's not your husband.

But this is still very nice.

You felt his hand going on to hold yours, and you know that all you've been trying to do that night was get him to not like you, and you've honestly tried and failed to do so.

In that moment, you just gave in, finding it hard to move your hand away from his. You even assured him by lightly squeezing his hand.

This is the most relaxed you felt in weeks. If only things can stay this way.

...

...

"I'm really glad I met you, Y/N."

...

...

No, you couldn't hold it anymore.

Slowly, tears started going down your face. The more they fell, the less you could control yourself to stop crying. An overwhelming amount of emotions, blocked by a dam finally broke open, and you finally let it all out.

Ayato's expression changed, becoming shocked as you let out little sobs while trying to wipe your tears away. He saw you try to control your breathing, just like the girl in his dreams, he heard the little whimpers coming out of you, the same he heard from that girl.

You let his hand go, "I'm sorry..." You hiccuped, standing up and immediately running away from him.

"Y/N!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE, PLEASE!" You shouted at him.

"Sometimes, I wish I never met you."

Just like then, you ran back to your home, collapsing on the floor in a fit of whimpers and sobs.

"He's not my husband..." You repeated in your mind. That man you went on a date with wasn't your husband, your husband was the Ayato that said he wished he hadn't met you, that looked at you in anger and shame.

The Ayato you were just with was a person you met a few weeks ago after you saved him.

They aren't the same.

Your husband doesn't love you anymore. He wouldn't ever ask you on a date anymore. He wouldn't say he was happy that he met you.

"He's not my husband..." You did not believe in your own words.

Ayato walked alone through Chinju Forest with a solemn face. He kept thinking back to the look of your face and how you were trying desperately to calm yourself down.

He didn't like the look of your crying face, he could even sense the pain you were feeling as you let whimpers escape your shaking lips. The scene sent needles to his heart.

And just as he thought that it was the perfect date.

Did he do something to make you react that way?

As he was thinking, a glimmering object shone in the corner of his eye, immediately gaining his attention. Ayato looked around, before seeing something on the ground reflecting the glow of the moon.

Leaning down to pick it up, he saw a ring, and as he looked at it longer, he felt a raging headache attack his mind.

He groaned, it wasn't as if that was the only time he got headaches, they were quite frequent.

But he couldn't help but feel some sort of familiarity towards the ring, like he has seen it before.

The ring looked extremely special. He decided to bring it with him and hopefully Thoma might be able to help him find who the owner is.

But the number one thing in his mind right now is you.

He hopes that you're alright.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ayato head was already aching when he came home to a small box on his bed.

It looks like it has gone through some stuff, it has dents everywhere and it looked like it was thrown around.

Is it for him?

Since it was on his bed, he decides to opens it, finding a piece of paper inside along with an even smaller black box.

"Ayato, I really hope you like this gift! It might not make sense when you first open it, but I have a proper explaination about what it is. I'd like to explain you in person."

The bottom of the paper has the words "I love you," in it, as well as a "From your beloved wife, Y/N".

His breath hitched.

Within the black box, he saw a necklace with a charm of what he can assume to be a constellation.

Ayato took out the ring in his pocket, like his memory has been jogged.

You...

You were wearing a ring that looked like it paired with the ring in his hands now.

As Ayato was planning to hold your hand while you were looking away from him, he noticed a ring on your ring finger.

Perhaps it was just the right fit for that finger instead of your middle, that's why you were wearing it there.

The ring was beautiful though, something he would probably pick out for something special.

When he held your hand, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of your hands together, his eyes especially still focused on your ring.

Maybe you forgot, but you left your wedding ring on when you went out for your date.

"I'd like to explain to you in person."

He wasted no time in taking that offer.

Rushing out of the estate, Thoma immediately stepped in his way.

"My lord, you can't just leave! Especially by yourself. Remember what Lady Ayaka said to you." The blonde blocked his master's path, seeing the Yashiro Commissioner's hurried steps to the estate exit.

Thoma's eyes landed on the box within Ayato's hand, noticing the tight grip on the familiar cover.

Oh...

His green eyes then saw his Lady Ayaka, standing far behind her brother. His mouth parted in disbelief.

Has Ayaka taken matters into her own hands?

Without Ayato noticing, the two's eyes were locked, and then Ayaka gave their retainer a firm nod, signalling for Thoma to let her brother go.

"You don't understand, Thoma! I need to-" Ayato was just about to argue, but his words were cut short when the blonde just gave way for him.

"I understand more than you might think, my lord." Thoma sighs, crossing his arms. "Y/N, she... she lives in Konda Village."

Ayato was shocked to say the least, can Thoma really read him so easily?

His mind was filled with confusion, many unanswered questions. But one remained on top of his priority, and he needed to get to you now.

Without another word, he hurries off into the forest, on his way to the village you resided in. Despite the tiredness, he pushed on to go to you.

Yet Thoma's final words didn't escape his ears.

"You aren't the only one that needs to remember."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Fatigue was spreading all over his body.

But he hoped that he can still make it to you.

He doesn't expect an explanation to be served up to him in a silver platter, given that everything after his accident seems to have been a mess.

He can't fully wrap his head around the situation.

If what he read was true and you're his wife....

If you're the mysterious girl that he was chasing in his dreams....

If you love him and he loves you...

Why would you do this to him?

**

"Don't go..." His voice was a little playful, but you could sense that there was some sincerity in his words.

You giggled as you packed your clothes for your business trip to Watatsumi Island. "Ayato..." You feel warmth spread through your chest as he hugged you from behind.

"This is my job, as a lady of your clan." His embrace only tightened, stopping your from packing your things. "It's only for two days, my dear."

"Two daysss..." He whined quite dramatically, placing his chin on your shoulder so that you could visibly see his pout. "Who I am suppose to cuddle during bedtime and kiss awake in the morning?"

You sighed in amusement, turning so that you're now facing him. "I promise that when I get back, you can have all the cuddles and kisses you want."

"I want a very exclusive week of you being with me at all times as well."

"Hmmm, why?"

"Because I'm gonna be very deprived in the next two days so you're gonna have to nurture me back to health afterwards." He argued like a child, very unlike him outside of the privacy of your bedroom. You liked having this side of him all to yourself.

"Alright, fine. Now sit down so I can pack properly without interruptions." You said jokingly, pushing him to sit on your bed.

You were able to get through a few more minutes of undisturbed packing, until...

"Don't goooo..."

**

"Don't go." He whispered into the air, his hurried steps turned to slow walking. This has always been the case since his accident, he gets very tired so much faster than before.

That... memory... that just played in his head...

Was it real?

You and "him"... looked so in love with each other.

**

"Have you ever thought about an heir?" You stopped in your tracks, hearing the voice of your husband's friend coming from the living room.

"Ahhh, I definitely have thought about it. But I will always consider what my wife wants with this subject." You hear your husbands voice after that.

Eavesdropping may not be very proper and polite, but you couldn't help it. Such a topic never even made it's way to your past conversations.

"Does your wife not want a child?"

You thought about it youself... it would be nice to have a little family with Ayato, with a cute little baby boy or girl to share your love for.

"I honestly don't know, never talked to her about it."

...

When Ayato went into your room for the night, you looked at him intently, much to his surprise.

"Is there something on my face, darling?" He asked, as your gaze never faltered.

You shook your head, then he merely shrugged off and went through his nighttime routine.

Still, his curiousity peaked when he went to lay down with you and you remained looking at him the same way.

"Umm, darling-"

"Yes, I do want a family with you."

Despite his cool and dignified self, Ayato couldn't hide his surprise at your sudden statement. Looking at his expression, you sighed, before doing what was the only thing that could make your husband even more at a lost for words.

You straddled him, sitting on his lap.

"Is... is that okay?" You asked when he didn't give a respond to your statement.

"Yes... please." You couldn't help but giggle, as your sly husband was at a lost for words.

"I would love to have a family with you."

Ayato's head started spinning.

His vision was getting blurry.

He was going to collapse.

Happy...

He looked so happy with you.

Even then, even now, he's happy... with you.

He just doesn't understand why... why you lied to him.

And as he fell on his knees from sheer exhaustion, his memory further gave answers.

"All of this happened because of a stupid fucking package, huh?" You flinched a bit when he cursed, feeling even more pathetic than you were a few minutes ago. It's even worse because it's true, all this did happened because of your package.

"I... I didn't k-know-" Your voice was soft and gentle, yet still full of shame. You sat on the couch with your head hung low.

"What is so fucking important that you had to ruin so much of our work?!" You couldn't answer, you just kept quiet, because to be honest, it wasn't anything important, and you were stupid for ordering it in the first place.

Your husband wiped his face with his hand in frustration, mumbling a bunch of other curse words. You stood up, walking closer to him and reaching your hand out to comfort him.

His hand caught yours, his eyes had finally bore into yours. His teeth almost seem to grind against each other, "You know... sometimes, I just wish...."

"Sometimes I wish I never met you."

All the blurry visions he has seen in his dream, suddenly they become clear.

He held the box tight, as he felt the most painful headache starting to form.

Tears filled his eyes.

He could no longer walk, but he saw... people, they were hurriedly walking to him, and he can faintly hear their worried murmurs.

Those words "he" said, he wishes to take them back down his throat, he wishes to delete the entire scene from existence.

Yet there was nothing he could do but cling on to the memory his brain had for him next.

"Excuse me, sir." He looked up, seeing a girl smile brightly at him, her umbrella covering the rain falling from the sky.

Ayato sat below a tree that barely covered him from the rain before, but he figured that it was better than getting completely soaked. So he was planning to stay there to wait the rain out.

"I noticed that you're kinda stranded here." The girl snickered a little, covering her mouth as she laughed.

Cute. He thought, her smile influenced his lips to do the same.

"Yes, I am quite in a predicament." She offered her hand to him, pulling him up to his feet. "Thank you very much, my lady." He flashed her a calm smile along with his thanks.

"Where are you going anyway? Perhaps I can accompany you so that you don't have to wait for the weather to calm?"

He was about to go back home, but it was still quite a long way away... he decided to take a chance.

"I was about to go for a meal. Though, I find it lonely to be alone during one. So... if you have nothing else to do, perhaps I can treat you to a meal." The girl looked up at him wide-eyed, not expecting to receive such an offer. "As a thank you, miss..." He indirectly asked for the girl's name.

"Y/N." You smiled brightly at him, the scene immediately lifted his mood even more. "And I would love to join you for a meal, sir..."

"Ayato, Kamisato Ayato." You almost let go of the umbrella, but he was quick to catch on, holding your hand that was holding the umbrella steady.

A pink tint exposed themselves on your cheeks, another thing he found cute about you, among many things. "The Yashiro Commissioner?" You questioned, avoiding his gaze.

"Hmm, how about we go to Uyuu Restaurant?" He didn't answer your question, but you were certain that it was him.

Fully letting go of the umbrella, you let him take the lead as you head into the city.

"I was quite enjoying holding your hand." You turned your gaze to him, shocked at his forward comment. His smile was still there on his face, if anything, it turned kind of sly.

Not knowing how to react, you stupidly offered your hand to him. "Umm, okay..." You wanted to immediately slap yourself, yet due to nervousness, your hand remained up for the offer.

'Go down, hand! How can he even hold it when he's holding the umbrella?!' You screamed in your head.

As if listening to your thoughts, the rain came to an immediate stop. And as the man behind you noticed, he closed the umbrella, humming as if he was pleased.

When he was done, he carried it with his other hand, leaving the hand close to yours free to hold.

Ayato slipped his hand into yours. "I appreciate your kindness, my lady."

You smiled, though quite nervous... almost in like a giddy way.

You didn't look at him, hoping he doesn't notice how your hand is shaking. You merely looked up to the stars.

A constellation stuck to your memory.

Ayato sat on the grass, his mind heavy as he held the box with one hand and his head the other.

Despite the unbearable pain... remembering you was nice. So he smiled as tears fell from his eyes.

He doesn't want to forget.

"Look, it's the Yashiro Commissioner!" A worried exclaim, one he could barely hear made him look up to see a bunch of people running to his aid.

"Please, inform Lady Kamisato about the situation." The words he heard last as he fell unconscious.

Mentions (People that have been waiting for 8 months)(I'm sorry): @nasidibakar @kisum9 @kittycasie @ramvuda @the-real-fandom-person @xiaopleasecomehome @lswtamashi @rustybucketofghosts @him3ru @tartagliasmoneybag @eurooki @spicycloudsalad @icarusignite @foxlady99 @mnoxsk and others I couldn't mention for some reason.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Here's Part 3

This is really long because the first one was really short hehe. I really hope you liked it. And yes, I am really sorry for updating so late, and just not uploading in general. :((

I am now very busy, but I try. I love writing despite it taking over my sleep schedule and if only I was faster and more creative, I would have a lot for you guys.

See you when I see you ^-^

Might take months to post again ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

[makingspiritualityreal]

Why Saturn Makes you Bad at Doing Things

Saturn in our chart is about things we don't have an instinctive understanding of. These are things we have to work hard (as in tediously, long term) to improve. Over time, we can become meticulous and more decent at this area of our lives, but it takes time for us to get there.

Example, I have Saturn in Aquarius and it took me over 10 years to get the hang of social media, and I'm still learning. Since according to Vedic classics, Saturn is "lame" by nature, these are the areas where we end up with what we feel are initially inadequate results.

What is the reason for such a situation with Saturn?

1. Karmic delay manifesting as lack of financial physical support in your Saturn area. You simply receive the necessary basic tools to be able to accomplish anything worthwhile in this given area with a delay. Example - I have Saturn in Aquarius in the 4th, and I really care about memories and pictures and organising them on socials as a sort of virtual diary. I have been a content creator for 5 years now. I endlessly struggled with inadequate technology, poor quality gear or no gear, and lower quality content as a result. Editing only takes you so far. Tools of the trade are important.

2. Lack of external support and education, delayed access to basic support and education. Noone is going to help you in the area of your Saturn, unless you have excellent synastry with somebody. You need to learn everything by yourself from the ground up, starting from nothing, feeling like you're behind your peers. You don't know yourself in that area, so you don't know what suits you and as a result you have a delayed awareness of what is good for you.

3. Which brings me to my next point, perfectionism. Saturn is what our soul wants to perfect and master, and then release once our legacy is perfected. You will not be satisfied with mediocrity there. I have heard it countless times from people "why do you care about random pictures" well because my Saturn in the 4th wants a perfect photo diary and I want it to be organized and look good. Memories matter to me so I take them very seriously. As a result, we end up being harder on ourselves there than the average person, because we want more, and we want better. If used well, as a result of this attitude, Saturn has the potential to deliver high quality results.

4. Not fitting into trends, first because of the delayed learning process, then because you skipped on major social moments. You just don't know how to be "cool" where your Saturn is placed, because it takes time to build up that ease, and it's always with a lot of practice. As a result, you feel inadequate and lonely in that area, because your difficult experience makes it impossible to connect with your peers, who may mock you over traits of your Saturn. Over time, if Saturn is strong you can become an inspiration and a trendsetter yourself.

5. And finally, and most surprisingly so, lack of interest. The mix of karma and external circumstances and understanding of futility makes us subconsciously reject deeper involvement in the karmas of our Saturn and its Nakshatras. Example, I have Saturn in Dhanishta and I simply refuse to do anything for the sake of popularity, to impress any group, or even join a group for status. I am ready to die alone in my isolated cute house (probably because Saturn in the 4th) just to be myself. Growing up, I denied all social adherence within my family, because I believed they do everything wrong. I also denied all social adherence to the most popular people in school, finding them shallow and disgusting, and throwing their life away while I put my head to my studies and focused on my goals. As a result, my personal journey is unrelatable to most people, because few have the gumption to resist their environments so completely, few are so critical of these environments, few people choose strife, loneliness and lack, because it's the right thing to do. So you can see how our Saturn makes us subversive, denying granting people any expectation in that area and doing everything "their own way".

[chloeangelic]

I’ve spent the past week getting slandered in this community with not a shred of evidence, proof, or receipts of me being a mean girl, “Wish Regina George”, a bully, an asshole, someone who spends more time answering anons than I do writing, or any of the other things I’ve seen people say about me out of absolutely fucking nowhere, seemingly because people have grievances towards Gracie that I know nothing about. I appreciate everyone who has checked in on me and asked how I’m doing. 

ETA: I have spoken to one of the people who posted statements and anons about me and we have squashed the beef. The statements made about me have been debunked and they have deleted their posts. Please leave me and my friends alone - I've gotten harassed directly and indirectly by anons and posts for two months and I'm tired. I'm not gonna prostrate myself and try to convince the internet that I'm a good person when I know I've done my best to always be kind and respectful in this community. My words will inevitably be twisted and I feel paralyzed. The damage to my reputation has already been done.

This is the only time I’ll address this, and my anons will not be turned back on because this is literally slander and a waste of everyone’s time. I’ve seen multiple vague posts about me as well and I’ve chosen to ignore it all, but it gets to a point where it feels like bullying and I’m done with it. When someone goes on tumblr live to rehash the same shallow shit talking post about me (i.e. talking shit about people they’re accusing of talking shit), that’s when I feel like my limit has been crossed, and since that same live devolved into an advertisement for the host’s own writing… This no longer reads like vigilante justice. 

Let me get one thing straight: I am here to write about dick, cock and that old man. I am extremely grateful for the friends I’ve made along the way, and I am beyond appreciative for my readers who support me and who like what I come up with. I am 27 years old, I have a fulltime job, and this is one of my hobbies. If you think I’m going to spend my time in a fandom spamming group chats and being catty, I literally don’t know what to tell you. The few uncomfortable situations I’ve had on here have been addressed and squashed very quickly, whether that’s misunderstandings, accusations or anything else. In a creative space, you are bound to butt heads with people occasionally, or have people who dislike you, and that is fine. I know I have an aloof persona on here, I don’t expect everyone to like me. 

I didn’t block anyone up until two days ago when this tumblr live host posted three anon asks in a row about me, and I decided to block the people who seemingly agreed with anons insisting I’m a mean girl, asshole etc. cause why the fuck wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t anyone? I don’t understand why on earth they’re so mad about me blocking them if they dislike me so much already. My shit is still on ao3 if they want to read it. 

I don’t know what my mutuals do in their own DM’s, or group chats they’re in that I don’t participate in, because I stay in my lane and I spend my time writing. Of course I don’t condone bad behavior but how am I supposed to know what happens in GCs and servers I’m literally not in? Or conversations in servers where I’m not active? I have not witnessed any of my mutuals talking shit in any GCs, period. That’s all I can say. Additionally, this whole big/elite writers discord people were talking about a while ago - if that exists, I wasn’t even invited lmfao how’s that for being a big writer? 

One anon said I was an asshole when they tried to have a conversation with me months back, and I assume this was my Rendezvous anon who I was snarky to cause they were snarky to me. I make it very clear that I have limited patience for anons, and when people in my comments respond back to them, they are responding to a statement that is separate from the person who sent it. 

I am not entertaining this insanity any further than this. I will continue to post my old man porn and interact with my mutuals and reblog gif sets of that same old man cause that’s what I’m on here for. If you don’t like me, you are well within your rights, I assume you have your reasons, and that is ultimately none of my business. Everyone has the right to curate their own experience on a website like this. 

Love, 

Daddy

[teatraps]

Gotta rant about Edgar Valden rq

Cause seriously, his character is so cool to me. Like, you have the basic rundown. Rich kid ran away from home because he was dissatisfied with his life there. But then, all of that ends up just being a red herring. The “dissatisfaction” which always came off as him just being in his own head and looking down on others because he thinks he’s better than them gets flipped on its head with his 3rd letter. All of his trash talk makes so much more sense. He wasn’t just saying he didn’t care about other people’s opinions or money or fame because he was super self absorbed. He was saying that because he knew first hand the damage chasing money, fame, and power can cause. Really thinking about it, his father basically killed his entire family for status. And then, the slight implication that Edgar’s dad knew what Sarai was doing to Edgar the whole time. Now, it’s vague about what Sarai did to Edgar, but it was obviously bad enough to deteriorate his mental health to the point of having hallucinations. All that, and his dad never got rid of Sarai. Never fired him. Nothing. Which makes sense, because having a super talented artist in the family looks good for status, why would his dad care. He couldn’t care enough to let his wife rest to get better from her illness, or to actually look for his youngest child when she went missing.

For the little we do know about Sarai, we know he taught Edgar that praise is the highest form of love. Again, playing into the idea that Edgar was brought up to try and appease others and try to get status and fame. This is even kinda hinted at in his very first letter when he tells Ella that he’s going to become a famous artist, a goal he ends up feeling disillusioned by. The fact he still kept painting even after no longer wanting fame and recognition shows his love for painting was rooted in something much deeper than that. Then, referencing back to his deductions where he says that life is beautiful and the brush can preserve that beauty, it shows exactly what it was that keeps him going with art. He thinks life is beautiful. A simple reason, but a lovely one nonetheless. He cherishes the beautiful moments like the time he had with his mother or Ella.

This also could change what he even meant by looking for inspiration when going to the manor. When he talks about how he finds no inspiration in his home, it’s not something as simple as everything is just boring. He talks about how the culture of the aristocracy is just straight up draining for him. The greed. The constant push for more money and status, even at the cost of loved ones. The shallowness. There’s no beauty in it, he can’t find inspiration in it. Even as he signs off his farewell letter, he implies he would never go back home. He’s not just running off on some little trip to find inspiration and go home right after. He was straight up cutting off the life he once knew because it wasn’t really a life at all. As he puts it, he was just another decoration for his dad. For most of his life, he was kind of treated as less than human. More like a party trick for his dad to show off and gain their family more status.

And while we don’t know much about his role in game 5, the context of the game makes him stand out a lot. Outside of the fact that Edgar wasn’t in a faction at the start and the only character truly confirmed dead, his goals are also completely different from the rest of the group and he thematically differs from the others. Every other character is in some way trying to fix some “issue” with themself to try to assimilate into a group they were ostracized from (I say issue in quotes because it’s usually something out of their control that they honestly shouldn’t have been blamed for). Chloe trying to become Vera to be accepted, Jose trying to get his first officer title back and rejoin the aristocracy (or his alcoholism in order to maintain his station as a first officer in the first place), Kevin trying to prove to himself that he’s reached a point where he could’ve protected Angelina so he can face her tribe, and Patricia trying to rid herself of her curse in order to be accepted into her mother’s village. Meanwhile, there’s Edgar who was wanted by his community, but not taken care of by them. All five of them have a similar goal, to get some form of community and support, but Edgar is in a much different position from the rest of his team since he is more confident in himself and who he is. It’s never been called into question, and I don’t think that’s a negative trait either since every time someone in game 5 tries to correct their “flaw” it causes more harm than good. From Chloe killing her sister who was innocent, to Jose accidentally poisoning Kevin who was innocent, Patricia killing Edgar even though he didn’t do anything to her, and even Kevin being self destructive in drinking the poison. Not to mention three out of four of them feel regret and unfulfilled after they do it (and the one I’m not counting is Patricia because it’s not fully confirmed, but tbh there are things that foreshadow her not feeling fulfilled either so you could make it four out of four). Edgar, at least on the surface, didn’t internalize that there was something wrong with him that made the people around him treat him like trash, mainly because he was always desired by the people around him. These people still weren’t good for him though, leading to the lack of inspiration they give him. As he says, he’s looking for “fresh colors” and Edgar only refers to colors when he’s talking about someone he cared for (his mom = green, Ella = white, Sarai = red). Edgar looking for fresh colors could probably roughly translate to looking for new companionship with people that actually care about him.

If I really wanted to get into the internalizing thing tho, I’d probably say his willingness to sacrifice himself probably comes from…

1. Being so used to getting treated like a tool his entire life he thinks it’s the standard to a degree (hence why he’ll complain about having to play hero roles but still gets them regularly anyway)

2. Being unable to truly repent to Patricia because he can’t bring himself to apologize for killing Sarai (and he shouldn’t tbh, especially considering that was like his first act of true autonomy)

3. And lastly, just not really having anywhere to go after the manor. His goalpost ended at the manor while the other four saw it more as a stepping stone to get to other places.

And that’s not even getting into his overall lore relevance because let’s not act like he didn’t imply the Deross family are family friends of the Valden family in his 3rd letter. PLUS he has ties to Barriere.

He’s always got this slightly hopeful air to him, like he’s always looking up. It’s honestly just a really nice breather from the usual doom and gloom of idv’s storyline (granted his story is still depressing asf, but for idv standards it’s pretty happy. Like his 3rd letter where he just goes no contact with his dad is probably one of the healthiest things I’ve ever seen an idv character do). Even in the end, he gets the ending he wanted. He finds the inspiration he was looking for, but tbh I don’t think it was death that he was trying to achieve. His deaths are always portrayed as sacrifices specifically. It’s usually not something he really wants to do. Runaway didn’t want to risk his life and put himself in danger with mir, but he does it because he doesn’t want to abandon the followers to a cult. Censer didn’t want to die, he still really wanted to see his creator’s wish come true, but he accepts death if it will bring it closer to coming true. Even in his experiment file, Orpheus says Edgar accepted it at the end, so he decides to accept it at the end of the game. Most likely for some greater goal that hasn’t been revealed yet since Orpheus was hella vague in his experiment file.

I could honestly go on and on about how well executed his whole character is too. With how well they played into double entendres with his words and used a lot of art metaphors to sort of hide his actual character so on the surface you wouldn’t clock it immediately. Or the carefully picked art references they used in his trailer that all tie into his character really well (I still think he has one of the best trailers to date). To even the way his birthday letters are released, and keeping his perspective on game 5 hidden despite probably having the most reliable account, instead having other characters describe him to play into the misdirection.

I could literally talk for hours about Edgar Valden, he is the idv character of all time and I love him sm

[bestworstcase]

tin hats on. let’s talk about the great war.

first, a general point about the relevant world of remnant spots: qrow narrates all of them. i think this is important to keep in mind when assessing the information provided, because he editorializes constantly, and i do not believe that we are meant to take qrow’s obvious biases at face value. rather, this is a narrative choice to introduce us to this history through a very distorted lens; qrow is ozpin’s man, loyal to the bone before to the revelation of ozpin’s lies, and it is also very likely that he had no formal education prior to his enrollment at beacon academy.

#1: the pre-war kingdoms.

vale sits on the northwestern coast of sanus, sandwiched between “steep mountains” and “waters too shallow for any real monsters to pop out of.” throughout the kingdom’s history, every attempt to expand the kingdom’s borders past the mountain range has ended in “colossal failures”—the most recent of which is mountain glenn, in the post-war period.

however, vale was also engaged in a different expansionist effort in the century preceding the great war: the kingdom was building settlements on “the small islands and peninsulas” of the northeastern coast.

to the north of vale lay the kingdom of mantle. qrow does not give a lot of detail regarding the settlement of solitas, just that “at some point, a group of settlers were crazy enough to venture out into the northernmost continent,” but i submit that the founders of mantle came from northern sanus. why?

mantle’s location at the southwestern tip of solitas is geographically closest to the island of vytal, just off the north coast of sanus; had the settlers come from northern anima, they would have more likely landed on the eastern side of the continent.

qrow says this: “the harsh weather conditions proved to be just as useful as the mountain ranges when it came to keeping the creatures of grimm at bay,” and while anima does have mountain ranges, they’re not remarked upon in WOR: mistral. it is vale that depends upon “steep mountains” to bulwark its eastern flank against the grimm, and vale that has made repeated, unsuccessful attempts throughout its history to expand its borders beyond those mountains.

it is unclear how long mantle existed as an independent state prior to the great war, but we know that it’s not very old; qrow also states that the century preceding the great was “filled with so much tension” that it might as well be “lumped together” with the great war. meaning almost certainly that there were smaller-scale conflicts throughout the whole period. sometime during that century, vale began to build settlements in northeastern sanus. mantle was settled “at some point” by “a crazy group of settlers”—and “i guess when you’re that desperate,” qrow opines, “a frozen hunk of rock doesn’t seem like such a bad place to call home.” mantle is geographically closest to northeastern sanus. there are—there have always been—people living outside the kingdoms, who do not want to be part of the kingdoms.

you do the math. or i will: mantle was founded by people displaced from northeastern sanus by valean expansion, probably in the neighborhood of a hundred years prior to the great war.

meanwhile, mistral was conquering anima. notably—because qrow doesn’t like mistral, particularly—there is less ambiguity on this point than on vale’s settlement of northeast sanus: this expansion was an imperial project. a conquest. mistral was (and based on the language used in the present, still is) an empire, meaning its “territories” are all conquered people or polities from whom the imperial core extracts resources, which—both historically and in the text of this story—includes slaves.

so, argus. during the century preceding the great war, mistral’s attention turned to northern anima. according to jaune and ren in 6.7, mistral’s expansion into the region was stymied by the cold until forming an alliance with mantle; qrow describes mantle as an “unlikely friend” to the empire. the goliath in the room that none of these characters acknowledge (and may not know, given their upbringings—bandit, orphaned young, & very sheltered) is that the region was probably not uninhabited at the time.

empire. conquest. controlled territories. you cannot have these things without also having conquered people. what stymied mistral’s expansion into the region was likely not the cold per se but the logistical burden the cold imposed upon military action here; invading a cold region with an army in the wintertime is famously not a good idea. and, if mantle was founded by people displaced by valean imperialism… well, that explains both qrow’s view of it as an “unlikely friend” and why mantle would make such an overture of alliance to mistral in the first place; vale and mistral were the great world powers, and for mantle—a small, vulnerable, dust-rich but otherwise resource-poor state with every reason to fear its closer southern neighbor—cozying up to mistral would have been just rational politics; hug one great power to insure against invasion by the other.

and then there’s vacuo.

WOR: vacuo is easily the least factually trustworthy episode in the series to the point that i think it is probably all but worthless in terms of the historical narrative given; it’s worldbuilding the modern day cultural narratives about the conquest of vacuo, not the actual history.

(the CFVY novels, i believe, support this reading: in the present, many city vacuans believe the narrative qrow offers here that the old kingdom of vacuo was a “paradise,” but “comfort breeds weakness” and its people were complacent, soft, helpless to defend themselves from invaders from more hardened kingdoms… but the first king of vacuo was a man called malik the sunderer, shade’s history teacher states that it’s been centuries since vacuo was conquered and the real history has been so obscured and distorted by myth that it’s impossible to know what it was truly like, and desert vacuans—the nomadic peoples who don’t live in the kingdom—have a starkly different cultural outlook on hardship that is much more in line with the story’s themes and also reality, valuing community, hospitality, and resilience over “strength.”)

but there is one kernel of very interesting information in this episode: “after the great war, a formal government was finally established.” meaning there wasn’t a formal vacuan government before the great war.

vacuo was not a state before the great war.

of vacuo’s entry into the great war, qrow says this:

Up to this point, Vacuo had done its best to stay out of the fight. Mantle and Mistral, having both already established a small presence in Vacuo territory years before promised to leave them alone, provided they didn't interfere. Soon, those talks evolved. It went from "Don't side with them" to "Side with us and you'll be safe". Vacuo did not much care for that, and they came to the conclusion that if Vale were to fall, there'd be no one left to stop Mistral and Mantle from conquering them next. So they did what they considered to be the logical thing. They drove Mantle and Mistral out of Vacuo and told Vale they had their backs.

at this point in history, vacuo did not have a government. at this point in history, vacuo was not a state. the kingdom of vacuo had been conquered centuries ago (by “more developed kingdoms,” qrow says—by whom?), and according to rumpole (<- an actual authoritative source, given she teaches history at shade!), “few documented accounts or records remain from that far back.”

the conquest of vacuo predated the conflicts of the prewar century (and probably predate the existence of mantle). this illustration in WOR: vacuo implicates all three of the other kingdoms—blue for mistral, white for mantle, green for vale:

so there is no question that vale participated in the butchering of vacuo; it did. but this illustration is also impressionistic, ahistorical, not a literal representation of how vacuo was conquered.

by the time of the great war, vacuo was a territory occupied by mantle and mistral, but vale does not seem to have had a significant presence there. in the present, vacuans harbor a lot of resentment for mistral and atlas, less for vale. vale is also, by virtue of being located on the same continent, the kingdom best positioned to invade vacuo if it so chose.

(qrow asserts that vacuo was conquered by “more developed” kingdoms, but it was also dust-rich—the CFVY novels confirm this—and there is a clear correlation between technological innovation and access to an abundant source of dust. it’s possible that a scarcity of, say, iron inhibited ancient vacuo’s technological development and put it at a military disadvantage, but generally i think it’s more likely that qrow is regurgitating historical propaganda there.)

the point being: vale conquered the kingdom of vacuo and then either withdrew or lost a war with mistral for control over the territory at some point prior to the great war.

regardless of the finer details, the historicity of qrow’s account regarding vacuo’s entrance into the war seems… pretty suspect given that vacuo did not have a government. what sort of “talks” do you suppose the mantle-mistrali bloc was having with the non-state actors of vacuo? what kind of “presence” did mistral, the empire that conquered all of anima, actually have in the vacuan territory?

hmm. i wonder.

vacuo “drove mistral and mantle out” and threw in their lot with vale; meaning, the vacuan side of this war was really a war of independence. vacuo wasn’t “doing its best to stay out of the fight” so much as it was under mistrali control until the vacuan people rebelled, then sided with mistral’s enemy.

#2: salem?? ?

ozpin—and qrow by extension—believes that salem ignited the war with a false-flag op in northeastern sanus (“to this day, no one knows who shot first” + “salem’s smart. she works in the shadows, using others to get what she wants, so that when it comes time to place the blame, we can only point at each other”). much of the fandom not only takes this at face value but also assumes without… really any basis at all that salem was responsible for the “incident” in mantle that the mantelian government used to justify a raft of draconian censorship laws.

but… authoritarian regimes can and will use any pretext to justify repressive new laws whose real purpose is to punish dissenters and strengthen control over the populace; banning art and all forms of self-expression is not a move that anyone would think with any seriousness would protect people from the grimm. qrow is either being disingenuous in purpose or (more likely) just doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about because four years at the monster-hunting college is the sum total of his education: “the people of mantle had come to believe that they would be much safer from the grimm if they could only keep the emotions of the masses in check” is the kind of bullshit nonsense you would expect if the guy doesn’t know how government works, either the modern-day democratic councils or whatever system prewar mantle had; what is the distinction between “the people” and “the masses?”

in. the. unreliable. narrators. show.

mantle’s autocratic government found a pretext to crack down on subversive speech and pumped out a massive body of propaganda to the tune of “we’re just doing what we must for the good of the people :)”—that’s what happened. that’s why mistral imposed the same laws on its territories but not in the imperial core, and why mantle didn’t have a problem with that “selective” enforcement.

maybe salem sent some grimm to attack mantle, maybe she didn’t. maybe there was a public protest that got angry enough to attract grimm. maybe there was a protest that got too rowdy, and who’s going to openly question the government officials claiming that officers on the scene opened fire into the crowd because a grimm jumped out of the sewers? grimm evaporate when they die. kind of a hard thing to fact check.

and in a similar vein… vale’s king rolled out a welcome mat for mistrali colonists who came to colonize valean settlements. it is beyond nonsensical to think that there was no violence involved. colonization is an inescapably and inherently violent process. and remember, the rioting began shortly after mistral imposed draconian censorship laws on its occupied territories, which absolutely would have included parts of eastern vale.

it was inevitable and completely predictable that this situation would explode. might salem have sent someone to fire the first shot? sure? but why would she bother, when the fuse was burning down all on its own?

(and that’s assuming she even had an interest in provoking a massive war at all, which seems rather unlikely given her apparent disinclination to engage in wanton destruction; see also her consistent choices to limit civilian casualties by pulling out of vale quickly / planning a surgical strike on haven academy / not attacking mantle / not sending grimm into the subways of atlas.)

but. but–

they did put her in the thumbnail. the point of this is presumably to imply that she did, in fact, do something to influence these events.

specifically.

they put her in the thumbnail superimposed over the leader of the vacuan rebellion, who:

led what must have been a pretty desperate fight against steep odds to drive an industrialized global power out of vacuo,

kept that coalition together after they won and formed an alliance with vale, and

was a faunus.

ozpin is superimposed over the king of vale because he was the king of vale. so: is the choice to position salem in this way similarly non-arbitrary?

looks into the camera like i’m on the office.

salem is a faunus. she identifies herself as such (“your grace” is the mode of address for menagerie’s chieftain) and she has been socially understood as a faunus for thousands of years (in a time when faunus were hunted and caged like animals, the stories about the witch who lived in the woods among “beasts and monsters” were, uh, probably not referring to wild animals; “beasts” was a euphemism for the people the ones telling those stories hunted and caged.)

to this day, ozpin associates the faunus with salem. he suspects blake of being her spy; he similarly singles out velvet after the massacre of lower cairn (and we don’t get to see what he actually says, only that velvet is in tears by the end). at haven, leo more or less says “the council overruled me and my hands are tied,” and ozpin immediately decides to freeze him out and insinuates to the kids that he suspects leo might be a traitor; meanwhile james “two votes” ironwood is closing atlas’ borders, cutting off the global supply of dust, recalling his troops from an allied state, and behaving so erratically that mistral is evidently anticipating a fucking invasion, and ozpin instructs qrow to take the lamp to atlas anyway. lionheart is a faunus; ironwood is human. the tea set ozpin gifted to lionheart is a replica of salem’s tea set. math.

so the fact that salem is superimposed over the faunus leader here does not seem coincidental; the narrative is very consistent in linking salem to the faunus because she is herself a faunus.

in WOR: faunus, qrow describes the appalling treatment of faunus by humans throughout history (first ostracized and hunted down, later enslaved and exploited) before to the great war and states that, after the great war, “the world was desperate to find compromises that would ensure they'd never see the likes of it again; the faunus were awarded equal rights as citizens of remnant, and as an apology, they were given an entire continent of their own to do with as they pleased. there were some that saw this as fair and just, but many saw it for what it really was: a slap in the face from a nation of sore losers. and so menagerie was born.”

and from the great war:

But whatever the reasoning, everyone bowed to the King of Vale by the time it was over. The Great War had ended. The world was ready to live under the rule of Vale. But the King refused. The leaders of the four Kingdoms met on the island of Vytal, and it was there that they worked together to form a treaty and establish the future of Remnant. Territories were redistributed, slavery was abolished, governments were restructured, and the Warrior King, the last king Vale would ever have, founded the Huntsman Academies and placed his most trusted followers in command of each Kingdom's school.

a few things to unpack here.

first: ozma as the king of vale would have had quite a lot of power to drive the vytal negotiations in the direction he wanted them to go; the other three leaders were given at least a notional say, but these were people who had just seen ozma unleash the horrifying powers of the sword of destruction upon their armies and bowed to him in abject terror—and that’s before getting into the possibility that ozma may have used the crown of choice to compel agreement.

second: “territories were redistributed” mostly appears to mean that mistral was forced to relinquish control over conquered territories that did not want to be part of mistral; vacuan sovereignty was formally restored (…on paper) (shade academy is the de facto government and has been since the war ended, which is worth raising an eyebrow at), parts of western anima were liberated, and… menagerie was given to the faunus.

(menagerie had to have been a mistrali colony before the great war ended, otherwise the framing of “a slap in the face from a nation of sore losers” is nonsensical.)

third: note the implication that awarding the faunus equal rights and giving them an island was a desperate compromise to insure against the perceived threat of a second war. it’s of a piece with ozma’s attempt to appease mistral and avoid war by “sharing” eastern vale with mistrali colonists.

the vacuan leader—his ally in the war—was a faunus, but it sounds very much as though ozma saw her kind as adversaries, at least in potentia, whom he made it a point to appease in the hope of avoiding a war. which is irrational on its face but does make sense in conjunction with ozpin’s clear inclination to imagine connections between salem and faunus, however baseless that suspicion might be.

and on that note, qrow also says this: “a lot of settlements were lost during those years, and most were never reclaimed. rations on food and dust were put into effect, development of technology accelerated, humans and faunus who fought alongside one another became closer and every day, mankind grew more and more efficient at destroying itself.”

pay attention to that rhetorical structure.

many settlements were wiped out

food and dust were strictly rationed

technological (military) development boomed

humans and faunus grew closer

mankind grew ever more efficient at destroying itself

one of these is not like the others.

qrow’s framing of these events likely comes from ozpin, whether directly (things ozpin told him) or indirectly (ozpin’s influence as headmaster over beacon’s curriculum). so the inclusion of “humans and faunus who fought side by side grew closer” into what is otherwise a list of ways mankind “destroyed itself” is perhaps telling of ozma’s mindset at the time; which in turn supports the implication that ozma perceived the faunus as a potential threat to appease after the war.

now!

the question is, how was salem involved—and why?

well. we know that salem is inclined to revolution; she rallied people to rebellion against the brothers millions of years ago, and in her war against the academies in the present, she aligns herself with groups like the white fang. she refers to the global order ozma established through the vytal accords derisively as “your so-called ‘free’ world.”

and we know that salem herself is a faunus, and thousands of years ago she was present enough in faunus culture that their creation myth is just a refraction of her story—transformation into something new by a choice to leap into magical waters.

we know that the faunus did not have rights in any of the four kingdoms before the great war, and mistral in particular is noted for its reliance on (presumably, mainly faunus) slave labor. reading between the lines of qrow’s slanted narration, vacuo was a mistrali territory back then, and in the CFVY novels it’s mentioned that vacuan faunus were regularly enslaved in mistrali-operated mines within that territory.

and we can guess, based on their leader being a faunus, that the vacuan rebels who drove mistral and mantle out of vacuo were predominantly faunus, plus humans willing to follow and fight for the faunus.

in the present, salem preferred sienna khan over adam and dropped adam like a hot potato after he assassinated sienna; she also clearly has no intention to attack menagerie, where the grimm notably do not seem to be a serious problem. salem also implicitly identifies herself as a faunus (“your grace”). so there are grounds for thinking that she does consider the faunus to be her people.

vacuo’s part in the great war was a war for independence. salem is both pragmatic and ruthless; she understands that nothing forces people to cooperate quite like the threat of a common enemy; she has the means to turn the tide of any war by the simple expedient of directing her grimm against the side she wants to lose. if she was in communication with the vacuan rebels—or just had spies—she could have coordinated grimm raids to sever supply lines or winnow defending forces in advance of attacks planned by the rebels, tipping the odds in their favor.

she knows ozma. if she was paying attention to the war, she would have known it began with his futile effort to appease mistral by giving away parts of vale; she has to know he sees her in the shadow of every faunus. the vacuan rebels—most of them faunus, led by a faunus—saved his bacon by joining the war he very much seems to have been losing (the frontlines were in vacuo by the end of the war; all of eastern vale was destroyed, and the king of vale and his army made their final stand in vacuo; vale itself was… probably under mistrali occupation at the time).

i am sure salem did not want, particularly, to throw ozma a lifeline. but she does care about freedom in the abstract—“your so-called ‘free’ world”—and she may think of the faunus as her people. once the war began, once it became clear that vale was losing… well, either vale would fall and mistral would rule the world, which would be undeniably worse for the faunus, or she could grit her teeth and accept helping ozma as a fair price for a shot at liberating the faunus.

and the only thing she would have to do to influence the war’s outcome is use her grimm to disrupt mantelian/mistrali supply lines and specifically target their forces on the battlefield. such attacks wouldn’t stand out against the backdrop of regular grimm activity—there are a lot of grimm in the world beyond her control—but a sustained, deliberate campaign of grimm attacks focused on one side would absolutely add up over time to a significant advantage for the other. especially given that the logistical burden of waging war on a foreign continent is already so much higher than defending your home.

if salem could also keep wild grimm off the backs of vacuo’s and vale’s armies to some extent, a la the apparent absence of a grimm problem in menagerie, that advantage would be even sharper.

…although she probably did not anticipate that ozma would use the sword of destruction to crush everyone who opposed him, or the crown of choice to do… whatever it is he did with it. you win some, you lose some.

[inkpot909]

Their Favorite Part of You Headcanons (Jotaro Kujo, Noriaki Kakyoin)

↳ Reader is written as gender neutral. It’s stated that the Reader goes along with the crusaders on their trip to Egypt (+takes place after the journey as well). Everyone lives AU.

A/n: Wow, I actually posted something! Jokes aside, this summer has been rough so I’ve been trying to take it easy when I can. I missed writing, though, and hope y’all enjoy.

Warning(s): Slightly suggestive content.

Jotaro Kujo

He appreciates your eyes best.

Considering the apparent intimacy that results from direct eye contact, it makes the question an easy one to answer.

In fact, it’s highly probable your eyes were what he first noticed about you upon the initial meeting. Whether he has to bend his neck downward or you manage to stand at eye-level, it’s a moment he’s likely replayed over and over in his mind.

Another reason behind this choice is also a simple one (If you ask Jotaro, at least).

He didn’t fall easy and not at all for shallow reasons. Many of his classmates throughout high school would fuss over him seemingly due to his outwardly appearance and reputation. Because he was the “popular guy to like,” a diverse range of people were noticeably into him.

And taking into account how much he loathed a particular group of girls that would follow him around constantly, his perspective on love doesn’t tolerate anything he would deem shallow.

So, in short, what he cherishes most about you tends to be very personal to who you are.

It also plays into his communication preferences. Unsurprisingly, he tends to stare at you…. a lot.

It was definitely awkward in the early stages of your platonic-at-the-time relationship.

Throughout the duration of the journey to Egypt, you’d lost count of the times you’d stand face-to-face without a single word being exchanged. He didn’t ever wince or turn away, and you fondly recall the sheer intensity of those moments having kept you perfectly still.

Understanding Jotaro better as an individual- as well as how he feels about you -progressed his stares into something you find to be heartwarming. Just catching him in the act makes your heart leap, and your mind reels with wonder over what’s going through his head.

A little over a year after the aforementioned trip, and a relationship forms. It’s by then that he finds himself okay with getting lost in your lovely irises.

Your light giggle when you finally meet his gaze, flustered and gentle… it’s worth it. He always catches the moment your smile reaches your eyes, slightly creased by upturned lips. It’s a breathtaking sight, having twice now caused a cigarette to fall from his mouth while watching in awe.

His knack for nonverbal communication is pretty much universally understood by the few especially close to him. However, when it comes to you specifically, it reveals a rather bashful approach to the relationship that you might not have expected. It makes sense, as the likelihood of you being his first love is... more accurately labeled a certainty.

Jotaro can be observant after forming a connection with someone. When it comes to you, this is definitely the case. Any excuse to look at you is fine in his book.

However, it’s been long-established that he’s not exactly chatty, so he responds best to reactions he can see with his own two eyes. And it’s in the depth of your pupils that he finds doing so the simplest (If not simple, it’s at least selfish given his own bias).

The main aspect of this type of communication involves him looking at you intensely while his body language makes the tiniest adjustments in order to voice whatever he’s thinking.

For example, him holding out his palm to you, as his eyes cling to your person, is his way of asking you to hold his hand. He trusts that you know him well enough to get the point. And while you work on decoding his own subtle actions, his gaze never once pulls away from yours.

He simply cannot help it; there’s really something special about your eyes. He searches for your gaze constantly, and lingers for as long as he possibly can. It’s as if he’s always seeking your approval, reaction, and attention.

Now, as the relationship turns serious, he prefers to keep his eyes locked on you whenever he can. Once the two of you start becoming intimate, it’s quickly apparent he likes positions where he can keep his face close to your own. Or at the very least, hold eye contact.

Jotaro’s shockingly passionate, holding your hand in his own while he directs his hips accordingly. Lips slightly parted and gaze locked onto yours without fault. The emotion radiating from him is nothing short of immovable devotion.

Noriaki Kakyoin

Asking him this question yourself garners a flushed appearance and a hasty answer. He’ll stutter, telling you it’s your voice that he likes best. From the way it’s delivered you wouldn’t be able to tell if he’s practiced his response in advance or simply grasping at straws. Still, it’s an adorable sight and your quite pleased with his reply. Seeing your reaction, Kakyoin would feel a hint of shame.

Because he would be lying though his teeth.

He wouldn’t dare admit it initially, least of all to you, but he loves the sight of your legs.

Perhaps you tend to have them exposed. If that’s the case, he’s ashamed that he noticed such a thing so early on. A lump made its home in his throat that day, halting his words and making his mind run wild.

Or alternatively, you may mainly keep them hidden. Whatever it was that first prompted you revealing your bare legs- a couple hours at a hotel pool possibly -he undoubtedly finds himself sneaking more glances in your direction than usual.

It’s going to take him a bit to mentally process this.

Even in it’s more innocent connotations, he cannot help growing flustered. He just can’t help but find it a bit risqué. Although not exactly self-prescribed, despite his occasional arrogance, Kakyoin is certainly the gentleman type. Far from the kind of guy to be caught eyeing up someone’s legs in any shape or form.

That being said, the closer you become, the more difficult avoiding it gets. He focuses so much of his energy on not even glancing at your legs that he does, in fact, notice them quite often.

It doesn’t help being stuck in a car for hours on end right next to you. Thighs brushed against one another by sheer circumstance. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred throughout the trip to Egypt, he would think about it afterwards each time.

And it took only one sly comment from Polnareff or Mr. Joestar to prompt a myriad of fierce denials from the redhead. They’d egg him on, speaking a bit too loudly about how he’s “checking you out.” His cheeks would turn fiercely pink while rushing out a defense, which did not do much to help his case.

Eventually, the journey reaches its end. The group inevitably dissolves, but the two of you remain very close after the fact.

By then, your feelings for one another are certainly apparent. It’s hard for you to deny it when the excuse of looming danger is no longer present, and in turn he couldn’t imagine any other reason as to why you clung so close to him during his recovery period.

And even after becoming an official couple, understanding how to express his affection is met with bashfulness and hesitancy. If you’re inexperienced like him, it’ll likely be comforting for you. If you aren’t, it probably comes off as endearing.

Yes, you both have explicitly admitted to each other how you feel. Will Kakyoin still keep himself from eyeing you in any way? Absolutely.

A discussion will likely need to be had between the both of you before he loosens up a bit. A clear omission that you like him looking at you will help put his mind at ease (Man’s so smitten he feels guilty noticing that your beautiful god bless him).

Once he grows used to the relationship and starts showing just how touch-starved he is, the favoritism he holds for your legs finally becomes clear to you.

He’ll snuggle between your legs while he games, perfectly content within your hold. Even if you fall asleep, he doesn’t necessarily mind.

A lot of the clothes he buys for you leaves your legs exposed. The expression of awe he has whenever you wear something he’s bought is special to that occasion only. A strange mix of adoration and pride.

You also start catching him on his stares. Teasing him over it is a sure way for you earn a blush, as well as a weak comeback. However, the smile adorning his features exposes fondness. Only you’re allowed to say anything, though.

As intimacy blooms, he gladly indulges himself more. It strengthens his confidence in his actions, and turns the tides. Moving frustratingly slow, he glances up at you after leaving an array of kisses and bites up your inner thighs. All while he’s mumbling sweet nothings, pure honey oozing from his hushed tone.

Of course, he adores everything about you. But there’s a certain vigor in his actions when he continues moving upward that’s hard to miss.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

sorry but i think i lost your plot has to be peak literature because it's one of the only thing ive ever read from start to last update in under an hour

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 14

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,163

You get caught up in some hobbying.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, crafting, bead making

<Previous - Next>

Your relationship with the older vikings, men and women alike, as their sometimes delivery girl, sometimes shepard -though that was much less of a harrowing job now that the dragons were cool, and you were afforded the privilege of spend a lot less time hiding and running- sometimes portable laundromat and shiphand, afforded you certain knowledge that other people sometimes weren’t privy to, though Berk was an open floor for gossip.

Like how the twins were always looking down because their helmets were too shallow to balance themselves on their heads, which had the consequence of making it seem as if they were always up to something. Which, coincidentally, they were- Their mother complained about them a lot in between mentions of her husband and fawning over Stoick.

You learned how to cook some from Mrs. Ingerman, and you’d taught her a few words from your time period, which was nice. 

You’d had to do Snotlout's laundry and clean his room on more than one occasion, even had to pull it out of his basement room more than once, which you were thoroughly disgusted by. You’d learned a lot more about the guy from that experience than you’d ever wanted and had refused to take any of the Jorgensons’ laundry from then onward.

You’d even done things for Hiccup and for the Chief, mostly things he was unaccustomed to doing as he was too busy acting as the leader of the village and things Hiccup missed because he was too busy doing whatever he did out with the riders. You were sure Hiccup’d had no idea just the same as Snotlout. 

There were a few things you were certain to never bring up, including but not limited to a hastily drawn but very detailed sketch of your face shoved in a notebook tossed under his bed, not particularly helpful in terms of putting to rest the whole crush thing, or the small pail of screws he was sure to have brought back from the forge without his father’s blessing.

You were in denial a little bit, yeah. 

You should probably tell him. About the whole being in his room thing. But you wouldn’t. Definitely not.

It seemed, though, that despite this extra eye into the working world of Berk, you’d still ended up missing a few things.

Berk was… A community. You weren’t sure how you never realized that.

The Great Hall was filled with warm laughter, people patting each other on the back, men and women sharing stories about their kids and, often enough for you to take notice, Hiccup. It looked like raising him was a group effort.

Off in the corner were others at a table by shallow baskets which were shaped like oblong gold pans filled with fine powder and shells, men and women sitting along the side sorting dragon scales and grinding them down with flat stones and clearly chiseled pestels.

Dragons squealed and bobbed around your periphery, tossing and picking up what must’ve been colorful, neutral stones.

Large men and women and children hunched over the tables all over the hall, rearranged so that they were all closer to each other, parallel as they whittled away at things you couldn’t completely see, tables lined with leaves and the occasional plate.

It was well lit.

People filled the halls between tables with joyful conversation, playfully batted at each other and sat back. The whole space was bustling and also relaxing, somehow.

In the background was Ack arguing with some blonde woman, but even that was nice. You could tell he didn’t mean it and neither did she, shooting back just barely inaudible jabs with each other.

You were mindful of the basket in your arms full up with his laundry, just recently cleaned and aired out. 

You had stopped in your tracks at the sight, standing just before a short table placed perpendicular to the rest as if the lady sitting there was the guard to some booth or other. 

You looked down finally, noticing how she looked at you nearly eye level with a raised brow. She had plenty of wrinkles on her forehead, which told a lot about a life made by concern and stoicism. She also wore a large, very off white apron over a grayish vaguely beige long sleeve short and a long brown skirt, which you only just barely caught sight of as she lifted it up to wipe down something in her hand.

She had a shallow basket in front of her filled with what looked like beads and various strings, needles and small carving knives with wood shavings laid on the cloth-covered table around her.

“Hi,” You said, breaking the wall between the two of you. 

“...Hello, dear,” She responded, after a while, settling down her skirt and placing a colorful bead back into her basket. He picked up a needle instead, which you saw was already attached to a long string with beads all down the length. 

You wondered where they’d gotten the dye for it. Could dye even be used on glass? Was it glass?

Instead of asking those questions, you shuffled your feet.

You glanced at a white sleeve flopped over the side of the basket, which you held by a bar on the other side and pressed into your hip, “What’s going on?”

“Crafting is going on,” She said, plainly.

You nodded, “I like it.”

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Vikings wandering around Berk, trying their hand at leatherworking and carving and other things. Now that they had the time, being assaulted a lot less by Dragons, the Berkians indulged their more artistic inclinations, exercising muscles for skills they’d never been able to before.

“I mean, this is great. What started it?” You asked.

You wanted to join in. It might be nice.

“Oh, you haven’t seen? The pride of Berk, walking around with his little bead like a bird,” She chortled fondly, “Did you see it? I wonder who gave it to him? Lucky girl. He has, dare I say it, started a trend.”

A bird? You quirked your lips up at what was most certainly an exaggeration. You hadn’t seen anything like that. You failed to mention that you’re the one who made it.

You wondered if Hiccup knew about any of this at all. You didn’t. 

“How do you know it was a girl?”

You turned. The spoken voice belonged to one of the women you’d see before in the Hall. She came over, done fussing with Ack in the background.

She was also blonde, a brighter, more yellow shade with a few less gray hairs. And she was large, also, with broad shoulders and a strong presence. Her arms were the largest between them. 

She wore tight trousers and a large though not long tunic. Her boots were plain leather and looked to be of the pirate variety. 

You pondered the idea that they might be related, or at least good friends.

“Look at him!” The first lady put down her needle, resting it in her shallow basket again, a glass bead falling down the string as she did, gesturing with her hand, though there was no Hiccup in sight, “He’s so happy! So proud! The small thing. He’s got too much energy for his little bones to handle.”

You thought he might be offended if he heard her say that.

“Oh, don’t be delusional,” The one with big arms huffed, “And don’t let him hear you say that.”

“But I’m right!”

“You’re wrong! He’s no myth, sweetheart. You can’t go around treating him like one of your little stories,” She shook her head, crossing her arms. 

“The Ragnar is real!” She insisted, staring down the Ack lady, meeting her eyes until the other woman rolled her own. You could tell it was a disagreement as old as time itself, but like with the other woman’s squabble with Ack, there was no malice in it, “Beowulf, too.”

They were just putting on a show.

You felt your lips stretch wider. It felt good to be a part of, even as a witness.

“Well, anyways, I’ve been thinking of making it a regular thing. You know, putting it on a schedule. Craft nights…”

You nodded excitedly, “It’s very modern.”

“Do you think so?” She asked, pleased.

“You don’t think we’ll have better things to be doing?”

“Our ancestors used to do it, can’t see why we can’t.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, yes. Read a passage about it once, saw a note or something like in one of the dragon books. Glass beadmaking,” She looked up wistfully, pausing briefly in her rhythmic sewing, “I always wanted to try it… But we had no forge, no beads, no time, then, either. I was just a little girl. But now…!”

She picked something small but shiny out of the basket in her lap, ooh-ing to herself.

You were on the outside, kind of, though not on purpose. Everyone was welcoming enough, though they were much too busy fighting with the dragons to notice much or throw a party or anything. You were never excluded but you always had better things to do, too, so, well.

But this was here, and it seemed convenient. 

“Dear, come sit down,” She squealed slyly, voice both quick and dragging, face gleeful, which seemed out of place on her wide, bult frame and stern face.

“Okay,” You said, beaming.

You stuck mostly to the woodworking bead types. 

The image of glass beads shattering midair was frightening, though you were sure that none of the dragons around here could reach those speeds. Flying that fast might be dangerous for people too.

Most of your beads were probably going back to Hiccup anyways.

Of course, you had your own handful of small colorful semi-porcelain.

You tried a bunch of colors of all different types, and ended up with a handful of each. It was cool, to the super-so degree, and it was free. It seemed good will did a lot, and community bonding exercises were meant to be just that and nothing else. There was a line of Vikings, adults and children alike, ready to do their own part and bring things in anyhow. 

Many Vikings used ground up dragonhide to dye and waterproof beads and to mix in with melted glass in order to give it a pretty stain.

It was interesting, especially now that many Vikings were using Dragons in place of a kiln, and how they’d set up small buildings with bricks and some coal and used those too.

It was disastrous, at some moments. There were many burns, mostly small, that people went up to Gothi for, saying their goodbyes in bummed tones. 

Gothi must have had enough of it because she came down eventually to manage the glassmakers and smack the unfortunate.

It was… nice. 

The afternoon light was surprisingly nice on your face. It felt a lot nicer and your chest felt lighter, the world awash with things bright and endearing.

You looked forward with a winning smile at Hiccup.

“You liked the one I gave you, right?” You held out a handful of blue glass and wood beads to Hiccup, “They’re doing craft days in the Hall. I made some.”

You had a bunch of others in pouches around your belt.

You didn’t have anywhere to put them besides. You had no dragon to ride, so in time you might favor the glass ones. You had trouble with a few of them. The dragonhide did a great deal to make the glass more sticky when it heated up.

“You’re going to see a lot more people around with beads on.”

There were not enough leaves and pouches for all your sorted beads so they were sort of mixed, but you got a hold of a good few before it was time to clean up and you fled before anyone could notice. The hall would still be active for a while.

“You started a trend, I think,” You said, matter-of-factly.

It was impressive. Trends usually fell to the Chief, who recently had been trying to approach you though he always got carried away by tasks before he could. 

Hiccup had a sort of goofy smile on his face which consisted of a slightly upturned lip and the framing of his two largest front teeth which dropped as, as it looked like, he snapped back into himself, “What?”

“Yeah,” You said after you finished unloading the rest of his pouches into his arms and turned to walk away.

You looked around as you fled, making sure no one was watching.

He looked down like he wasn’t sure what to do with all of them, and also a little bit put off.

You wondered if you overdid it.

A small weight shifted by your ankle as you walked, the coins you’d slipped into a side pocket in your boot. You were going to ask around for some seeds.

[who-is-page]

hi! just want to uuh . note? i guess? that the p-shifters that started the. I guess discourse?? are reclaiming the term. Alot of them are using it as an alternative to Clinical Zoanthrope they're not old-style P-shifters

I'm going to be honest, you can't really ... Reclaim a term like that. You can't erase the history of the term, its meaning to the wider community, and the ways in which it's been used (and, most importantly, continues to be used!) to hurt others.

For a brief and shallow explanation, it isn't like a queer person trying to reclaim "fag." It's more akin to someone trying to reclaim a logo or a dogwhistle or a general group term that is known and used by people to this date. Like, you can't reclaim the term "Scientologist," for example. Or the terms "anti-otherkin," or the zeta symbol, for examples more relevant to our own communities. Those have very, very apparent meanings that aren't going to be overwritten, because they're still being used by the communities who originally coined them to mean what they were intended to mean. These aren't abandoned terms. These aren't terms which are primarily weaponized as insults or slurs (although the groups connected to them have certainly done harm to others). These terms are still being used in their intended ways. There is no way to separate the people who are 'reclaiming' it and the people who are just ... Using it. So reclamation doesn't work. Especially when there's no visible effort being made to unpackaged the baggage connected to the term, and any attempts to do so are likely to fail because, as said, the terms are still being used in their original ways. Does this make sense?

Additional afterthought edit: Also, thinking more on it, it's kind of fucked up for someone to try and steal another community's identifying terms and forcibly redefine them? Like, we criticize that all the time in the otherkin and therian communities, and that's not exactly a one-way street. There's plenty of nuance to be had here about the damage that specific groups do, like pshifters-- but something about this still doesn't quite settle okay for me. I don't like pshifters, I think their groups are almost always inherently harmful. But at the same time, does that make it okay for other people to step into their communities and do the same thing that KFF do to us?

[beautifulpersonpeach]

A Rant.

A lot of you have sent me asks about how JK's solo promotions isn't the same as Jimin's and other BTS members, about JK's rumoured all-English album, about BTS doing payola (you can read my views 4th paragraph from the bottom), about how HYBE has apparently destroyed the BTS OT7 agenda...

I don't want to answer y'all for two reasons:

Perhaps some of you are newer followers, but I can only repeat myself so many times. Don't you get bored of hearing me say the same thing over and over again? /gen

I don't share the apprehension, worry, or appetite for speculation and theorizing that I'm seeing from many people on Tumblr and Twitter.

It's very possible I'm the one in La La Land and you all have good reason to be concerned. But the way I see it, a lot of hysteria is being driven by two things: (1) a very myopic pov, as though the time between June 2022 and December 2025 is the most defining period of BTS's solo careers, as though this is the best and only time for any member to make a move, leave their mark, and thrive. And that BTS/BigHit is working on the same timeline.

(2) All these conversations are being driven by people who have brought that toxic hyper-competitive feature of k-pop, inwards, into the group, and now see the members as direct competition in the narrowest and most reductive sense possible.

And I just don't relate.

I don't feel sad for Hobi on how his solo roll-out was 'sabotaged' relative to Jimin's, I don't feel angry for Joon on how his roll-out compared to JK's, I don't feel confused at JK possibly having a full English album, if anything I'm even more excited by how he's pushing himself and I think it suits him given his pronunciation is one of the best in BTS. I know he'll be more involved than with Seven given how long he's been working on his album, I just hope he doesn't sacrifice depth in his artistic and lyrical expression for a shallow, wider reach.

In my very honest opinion.

When BTS talk about wanting to be together for a really really long time, I wonder if people have sat down to really think about what that looks like. Because maybe it's just me, but I don't think it makes sense for a company/group that has operated like BigHit/BTS, to shove their grandest plans for seven individuals into a ~3 year window. Right now, it's JK getting the push, he's been very vocal and consistent about his solo ambitions for the last 4 years, and I'm glad he's getting this shot.

Also,

While I feel BigHit has become bloated and inefficient, the boys are still capable handling their affairs and I feel very comfortable not having all the answers for a business and career that isn't mine.

I have my opinions about how things could be done differently, and I think if people want to voice their dissatisfaction to the company that's obviously fine, but I don't feel sadness, anger, or pity for any of the guys in BTS in Chapter 2. Not for my biases, not for Jungkook, and certainly not for Jimin. And it's getting tedious repeating my unpopular sanctimonious opinions to people who have already made up their minds and really ought to be more honest with themselves.

Speaking of Jimin, it continues to amuse me how the top group of people who just do nawt rate this man, is his solos. It's like dejavu for the discourse around OSTs circa 2018 - 2021 all over again. PJMs complaining about how BigHit was holding him back from doing OSTs, just for Jimin to say he wasn't interested at the time. Or how in 2022 people were fretting in my inbox about how only Jimin hadn't done any solo work/promotions yet and I would put out gentle reminders about how he operates and his tendency to leapfrog the rest when he's ready, then we started getting the producer pics.

Jimin has always been a 'bigger picture' kind of guy so how can anyone blame me for not taking this latest outcry seriously when that man continues to do what he's always done: work in silence, and wow with the result.

(Does anyone really think a man with no plans would be airborne every 2 weeks, and that a company with no desire to market him would be paying for and managing those plans?)

Not to be dismissive of people who wanted a stronger American push for Jimin's debut, while I agree he would've benefitted from a more targeted push, I genuinely think Jimin has always been better suited for Europe anyway.

I mean, look at him.

*

Anon from yesterday said they envisioned Jungkook doing a song/video like Troye Sivan's Rush... I didn't comment on it yesterday, but Anon, personally, I've never seen Jungkook as capable of making a song like that. Jungkook will never make anything like that. The only person in BTS who has the range for that sort of provocation and subtext, is Jimin. And the market that will fully embrace that sort of art isn't America, it's Europe. In my opinion.

We'll see what his plans are.

Anyway, I'm not sure how more tactfully I can say this, but my blog isn't the place to be if you feel some type of way about seeing Jungkook succeed like this relative to your bias, if you think his promotion and success is at the expense of your bias, and so on. It's not even that I care about some vague OT7 ideal, it's that while I understand the anger and heightened emotions a lot of you feel, I just cannot relate to it. And it won't be enjoyable for either of us if you come to me with asks about it because we think very differently about the group and our relation to BTS.

You can mark this post to revisit in 6 months so we can compare notes.

[dreadfutures]

i don't like that solas vallaslin rewrite scene post because a) a lot of solavellan writers have tried addressing that or something similar and it always makes me roll my eyes when we all forget the classic takes and repackage them as new, b) a lot of people on reddit and tumblr and elsewhere have wished for the same thing, c) it always misses the even bigger problem with the vallaslin scene to me.

in that scene, solas stops short of telling you that the gods were evil.

the marks might have been slave markings that were turned, over the ages, into marks of pride and belonging in the culture of the Dalish. and that story is about the Dalish surviving, persevering, and clawing back what makes them connected to their past, when the world would stamp them out.

That's a great story and one that should be respected. Solas acknowledges this twice.

But the vallaslin isn't just a mark of adulthood and a mark of being Dalish. To them, it is not tied to escaping slavery -- because the Dalish don't know that story, until Lavellan finds out in the grotto from Solas that the vallaslin were slave markings.

The vallaslin are dedications to the gods.

To the evil gods who are very much still a threat to Thedas, and very much Solas's enemies.

The more and more we learn about the Evanuris, the more and more the religious practice of worshiping the Dalish gods stands out. The Dalish are very religious. Your Lavellan might or might not be, if you headcanon--and many players aren't religious, or at least are agnostic. Maybe to your Lavellan this is solely about the 'slave marking' part of what Solas tells her in the grotto.

But there is enough dialogue in DAI that Lavellan *can* be very devoted to the gods. And throughout the other games and media, worship of the Dalish gods is important to their culture. With the gods not being locked away forever, not being dead and distant, and being very much evil, that practice feels like the real problem behind the vallaslin scene.

Yeah, I think Solas is "shackled to the past" but not about this. We don't know what his plan really is, we don't know what he really cares about so much in elvhenan that drives him to bring about an apocalypse now. We don't know fully what he thinks was better, or worth bringing back, or worth undoing, besides the 'magic used to be everywhere and we didn't used to hate spirits' bit. There's more to it than that, that we have yet to see.

But we DO know he views the Evanuris as his enemies; we know from him, and from much of the supplemental material (Hi, Hormak) that they were incredibly cruel and monstrous to their people; we know they are not dead, and they are not permanently locked away; we know that they may be unleashed in the future. The Dalish worship them, and dedicate themselves to them, and invoke them in their lives.

We have the very ominous phrase: "Belief makes you more."

From a Bioware-critical/fandom angle, it is uncomfortable to tell a group heavily coded as indigenous and ancient that actually, all of their history is a lie. It's uncomfortable to tell them that actually, Historically Oppressed Group, you were once just as bad as the people who oppress you now.

Sure, you can change the formula of the vallaslin so he can't take it off of Lavellan. Have Lavellan say with even more gusto that now she'll take this knowledge back to her people, so they can truly celebrate all that they've overcome and reclaimed.

That doesn't change that this is a deeply religious group and a religious practice tied to the biggest threat to his past, and to the future.

I think it's a very surface level reading to think that Solas looks at Lavellan and sees 'slave.' She is indomitable, she is Dalish, and he has said before what he admires about her--and her people.

With all that we know, it seems like it's so much more than that. And I think it's pretty shallow to ignore that.

Fans have tried to headcanon this away in a million directions. A popular one: "What if the 'Evanuris' were just really powerful mages who had taken on the names of the true elven gods as an intimidation factor? That way the Dalish aren't ACTUALLY worshiping evil beings, and their whole culture isn't a lie." Sure! then Solas is 'shackled to the past.' If you headcanon that, then the vallaslin and the names of the gods were never really about the Evanuris, so no harm done that the Dalish still worship them. Solas is totally in the wrong for wanting to remove the marks of slavery and god-dedication from Lavellan's face.

There are other options. But yeah I think a lot of these 'rewrites' miss or forget beyond a really surface level understanding of Solas, the Dalish, and religion lol.

[avidfics]

Getting Closer to Sevika

A/N: Hi, usually I write about Vi, but Sevika has had me in a chokehold, so I had to give her some spotlight. Hope you like it.

Summary: You're finally getting one-on-one time with your grouchy superior, Sevika. She acts cold towards you in group settings, but today you will make her admit her feelings for you.

Pairing: Sevika x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not much. Fluff, some touching, teasing

WC: 3k (no clue how that happened)

Sunshine filled the sky. Well, technically, that was a lie. The sun wasn’t shining at all-the sky looked like it could rain at any minute. However, the gloomy weather could not dampen your anticipation because, for the first time, Sevika was aiding you on a task assigned by Silco. 

You bounce a bit in the driver’s seat of the truck as you wait for her to arrive. It wasn’t every day Sevika willingly went on an errand with you, not for your lack of trying. She had this uncanny habit of ignoring you, which she did when she was in a good mood. In a bad mood, she physically removed you from her sight. 

Was it lame that you craved those moments when she got up in your personal space while silently making the promise of bodily harm?

Just last week when you, Sevika, and the rest of the group were hanging out at the bar. Apparently, you were too chatty for Sevika’s liking because, in a blink of an eye, the brut kicked your legs right from under you. Your body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes - your head felt the brunt of the impact as you blacked out. However, when you woke up, your aching body was laid across the couch in her office. Her signature dark cape was thrown over your body. 

All of this could only mean one thing; She secretly, unbeknownst to herself, cared for you. Either that or you were severely delusional. 

Maybe it was both…

So consumed by thoughts of the burly woman you flinched hard at the sharp knock against the driver’s window.

Whipping your head, you swear your favorite romantic song begins playing on the radio, and whimsical flowers appear, framing her face. 

Your breathing becomes shallow as you take in her deep navy vest, tightly wrapped around her chest. Not to mention, good lord, the vest was sleeveless. This was not a drill. Sevika’s sculpted arms were out and making you want to jump her freaking bones. Somehow you manage to drag your wondering lecherous eyes up to her hardened face.

A dopey smile beams across your face as you roll down the window with haste. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Get your ass in the passenger seat.” 

Sevika’s grumpy salutations doesn’t damper your mood. It’s one of her many traits you find charming. It made digging past her tough exterior so much fun. 

Your fingers do a little tap against the steering wheel. “Can’t. While I’ll literally do anything for you, I’m a horrible passenger. I get too hyper and can’t stay still for shit.” 

In a flash, her metal arm passes through the open window and nearly yanks you clean through. Her beautifully scarred face scowls so close her breath fans across your face. “Call me Sev again, and your hands will be too broken to drive, permanently. Now get your hyper-ass out of my seat.”

Her tone, hard and demanding, is like a sirens’ call to your ears, making you docile and languid for anything Sev demands. Her very undivided attention to you makes the day already worthwhile. 

Your eyes shine up at her. “Yes, ma’am,” you purr. There must’ve been a few screws loose in your head to hit on Sevika when she was already peeved, but she was always pissed. If you wanted to make any progress with your team leader today, you had to take initiative.   

The metal hand clinching the collar of your shirt tightens, probably debating whether to drag you through the window. 

For a moment, her eyes heat, and her nostrils flare before shaking her head. With a hard shove, she lets you go. Huffing in annoyance and rolling her eyes.

Trying not to let your self-satisfied smile show, you scoot on your hands and knees over to the passenger seat. Your ass in perfect view for your sexy team leader. 

Sevika mutters, “Fucking brat,” as she opens the door and climbs in. Handling your truck as if she owns it.

I wonder if today’s trip will be fun banter or a boring lecture. You wonder as Sevika reves up the engine and takes off. 

“Your ass is dragging the rest of the team through the mud. If you fought as well as you talked, I wouldn’t have to kick your ass every week in training,” she starts.

Boring lecture it was. You settle in, getting yourself comfy to listen to Sevika’s infamous rants. Not that you minded. After all, now you had time to salivate as you admired your superior next to you. Usually, you had to compete for her attention among others, and she made it difficult. And when you did have her attention, she went out of her way to act like she couldn’t stand you. 

But something about her behavior felt off. Like it was all an act. During training, she did everything possible to make you quit; however, during any fight with local thugs, she glued herself to your side, laying waste to anyone who dared lay a hand on you. Something about this wasn’t adding up, and you were determined to sniff it out. 

You let out a blissful sigh and close your eyes. Sev’s open window blows her scent your way. A mixture of her natural musk and oil, the latter probably thanks to her tinkering with her mechanical arm. Unconsciously, your body slides across the bucket seat, gravitating to the smell. 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face. Did you hear anything I just said?” she asks. Her brows furrow but the irritation doesn’t reach her eyes. Instead, that same heat from when she was outside has returned. Your apparent interest in her wasn’t lost on her, but that damn restraint held her back. You couldn’t fathom the reason why. It was a pot with a lid, and soon, it would bubble over. 

Of course, a little teasing was never a bad thing.

“Sevika, as always, I live for these dull rants.” There, the corner of her lip twitched. Swiping away at rapid speed. “It’s the same thing you always say. ‘Y/N, you’re a go-getter, focused, and I can’t stay away from you.”

 You adjust in your seat. The night before, in preparation for today’s drive, you shaved your legs and decided to wear an unpractically short skirt. You glance to the side to make sure she’s watching. An electric shiver zips through your body when, out of the corner of your eyes, you notice her lingering eyes on your smooth legs. Taking a chance, you propped them up against the dashboard. Legs crossed, you playfully guide them against each other, enjoying how they glided. But the heat of Sevika’s eyes increased how sensitive your body felt - and she hadn’t laid a finger on you. Only Sevika had the power to turn you on with just a stare.

Under her breath, she whispers, “I need a fucking smoke.” With relentless movements, she starts searching through her pockets. “You’re a slacker, always distracted, and a pain in my fucking ass. Whenever you enter a room, I’m half tempted to duct tape your lips shut.” As she ranted, you noticed how anxious she was searching through her pockets - still searching for a flame to light her cigarette. 

Well, you had a lighter… 

 While she’s searching, you start dragging your hands up and down your bare legs that are still crossed against the dash. Your balmy palms circle your bended knees a few times and creep up to the hem of your skirt. Sevika’s voice trails off as inch by inch you tease your skirt up.

“... if it were up to me, your bratty tail would be out of here, unable to clean the blood off our blades.” Sevika clears her throat. 

The heat in the truck rises by several notches. Her attention on your hands as they drag your skirt dangerously up your thigh felt like actual pressure against your sensitive body. It made you feel more alive than any fight ever could. Every inch of skin you revealed sent a lick of heat to your core. 

Her metal grip on the steering wheel tightens significantly. With each inch of your rising skirt, a new squeaky crunch comes from your poor steering wheel.

Sevika can only take so much of being teased until she totally forgoes hunting through her pockets. The truck lurches to a stop in the middle of the street. Her callused hand snakes out to stop you from revealing the plump skin of your upper thigh.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Sevika’s eyes flare in question. She looked a bit strained as if tuned on yet incredulous at your audacity. 

“What?” You give an innocent grin. For a second, your blinding smile causes her hard stare to soften, but once again, she shakes it away, and a furious snarl returns. 

Somehow, she allows you to use your free hand to cover hers, and cautiously you guide her rough hand under the edge of your skirt. For the first time, Sevika couldn’t hide from you. From this close, you saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Even the pulse at the base of her neck was visible. 

The feel of her hand against your soft skin made you want to toss your head back in relief, unfortunately, the game had to finally come to an end as you guided her hand to the black garter attached to your upper thigh.

Sevika arches her eyebrow in confusion. In response, you open one of its pouches and reveal a sleek, silver lighter. Holding it between both of you, the fire shoots out and slowly settles. 

“Lighter?” 

Without waiting for a response, you light her cigarette. The lite cig lays unpuffed between her lips. Probably deciding whether to throw you out your own car or give in to the heat that’s been simmering between you two. You decided to quicken her decision by taking the cig from her lips, taking a puff, and blowing the smoke up in her face. 

That did it.

Her metal arm clutches your jaw. One eyebrow arched and head held high as if saying your punishment was still very much an option. Her thumb rubs against your bottom while taking her cig back. She takes a hit and blows it back in your face while holding your face still so you can’t move away. Hard, embarrassing coughs rack inside your chest.

A hard smile creeps along her as well as begrudged admiration, while still rubbing your bottom lip back and forth. The two of you stare at each other like a pair of pent-up rivalries. It lasts long enough for a car behind to honk.

Sevika's eyes drag down your body before continuing to drive, but not before giving the car behind a long hard stare. The poor sucker better hope she didn’t memorize his license plate. 

A giddiness plays around your heart at the tiny possibility of Sevika being upset the two of you were interrupted. It just reinforced the necessity of today. There was no way you would leave this truck before getting a confession out of Sev. But how?

Just as you come to a resolution, Sevika pulls into a dark alley. The two of you had already arrived at the warehouse where you were meeting some of Finn’s goons about a shipment. 

In preparation, Sevika starts replacing some of the vials of shimmer for her arm. The last one sat on her knee. 

I better not get myself killed. That was your last thought before you snatched the vials away and popped it into your bra. 

With a dismissive attitude, she continues to inspect her metal arm; however, you know you hold her full attention. “What are you playing at, princess?” The nickname itself almost made you want to roll over and show your stomach, but you had to remain strong. 

“You’ll get this back after you answer my question honestly.”

That damn smirk returns. “Or the second option, I come across the seat, teach you a much-needed lesson and worry about replacing the shimmer later.” She waits for you to give in, and when you remain stoic, she huffs in defeat and throws her arm behind you on the seat. “You got less than a minute.” 

Tucking your legs under your tush, you turn all the way to face her while twirling the vial between your fingers. “From day one, you’ve made your dislike of me painfully obvious.-”

“You think you’re special enough to be disliked?”

“- Sooo I’ve done everything I could to be better in your eyes, and I’ve gotten hella better. So why do you still treat me with a five feet pole?”

There, you had laid it all your insecurities in hopes that Sevika would genuinely answer. Her eyes stare up at the truck’s ceiling, contemplating whether to give into this conversation or simply forcefully take the shimmer from your hold and punish you for insubordination. 

Taking one more chance, you trail fingers along her arm. The shiver that visibly shakes her body is unexpected from both of you. Her shock must be what sways her decision because she leans over just enough to wrap an arm around your waist, dragging you flush against her side. The sudden closeness makes your breath halt, and your body becomes rigid. Sure, you often talked big but never had you imagined you’d be pressed so intimately against Sevika.

“I’ll never want you on my team, no matter how many hours of training you put in. Since Silco bought you to my team, princess, I knew you didn’t belong here. This shimmer filth has a way of contaminating everything and everyone it touches.” her eyes slightly trail off.

“You could’ve just ignored me.”

Sevika throws her head back and lets out a short laugh. “Ignore you?” Her prosthetic hand raises up and pushes your hair away with a gentleness you don’t expect. Before she can pull away, you trap her hand to keep it cradling your face. 

Surprise flashes across her face. The most action her metal arm receives involves blood and bone, not tender caresses. “You make it impossible to be ignored. Your voice, laughs, and these fucking impractical skirts.” The hand against your moves to the back of your head, and like a switch, it clutches the hair at the back of your head, roughly pulling your head to the side and bringing her face into the nook of your neck. “Damn, even your smell stays lodged into my brain.” Her nose trails up and down your neck, raising a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

Your overconfidence finally crumbles as you whimper slightly. There’s no concealing the slight shake of your hands as you grasp her biceps for support. “So you’re trying to protect me? Does that mean you don’t find me annoying?” 

Sevika’s breath hits your neck as she scoffs. “Nah, you’re annoying as hell. But I also didn’t want you involved in this shimmer shit. Thought if I were mean enough, you would want to leave.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “I just thought it was your version of foreplay. If you haven’t noticed, I can be a little stubborn.” 

“Stubborn is an understate if I’ve ever heard one.”

“And you can’t push me away just to protect me.”

A slight smile breaks over her face. She pats her thigh, beckoning you over. It was a request but felt like a command. You don’t bother to hide your smile as you awkwardly maneuver yourself over her thick thighs, slightly hovering. Not that Sevika puts up with your awkwardness for long as her rough hands grasp the sides of your waist. Her tight hold pushes you closer to her chest, leaving your core hyper-aware of every inch of friction. 

The foreign feel of being in Sevika’s embrace makes you breathless. Your back just naturally arches in response to her heavy hands gripping your waist. For the first time Sevika was realizing what you already knew, your body was insanely sensitive to her touch..

Arrogance curves along her lips as she casually drags the tips of her finger up and down your spine.

“Princess, you’ve been real demanding today. Perhaps a lesson in submission is needed?” Her hands ghost over your body, making you desperate for contact against your skin. They finally possessively land against your ribs, moving up to the side of your breasts. Your breath hangs on her every movement. 

“Don’t you think I’ve had enough lessons from you?” Your words waver as her head lowers down to your chest. Daring dark eyes challenge you as she leaves open-mouth kisses along the heaps of your chest. Meek moans almost escape as she leaves each kiss. Your fingers twitch with the need to move through her hair. 

When her thumbs finally skim over your nipples, the relief is a mini-explosion, throwing your head back. Her touch is gentler than you would’ve expected but not tentative. Expert hands plays with you and pushes the collar of your shirt down. One sensual kiss after another presses against your chest, except the last one, doesn’t land. 

An unexpected movement from your bra has you looking down. Between Sevika’s lips is the purple vial of shimmer you had hidden earlier. 

Your shock is more than apparent. 

“Don’t pout, princess. How about making a deal? Try not to annoy the shit out of me when we go in there, and we’ll finish where we left off.” 

Pretending to think about it, you cross your arms under your chest. Your chest heats when Sevika’s eyes blatantly devour your pushed-up boobs. For a second, you think you have the upper hand, but it’s short-lived. Cold hands grasp your upper thighs under your skirt, kneading your skin. 

A deep ache throbs from your pussy but you attempt to stay focus even as your eyelids lower. “I have a condition.” To respond her heavy hands press higher between your thighs. A self-satisfied look passes through her eyes, testing you. 

“I want to call you Sev.”

Deeper press. “Not on your life.”

“In private.” 

Her metal hand moves to cup the base of your neck, flexing around your throat, then slide to the back of your head. Bringing your face closer to hers, lips skimming yours. “Fine, now stop talking.” She commands before shutting you up with a heavy kiss. 

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VIIII.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: After months of dancing around their emotions, Javier and Paloma finally address the tension between them head-on.

WORD COUNT: ~9.2k

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smuttt, bulge riding, dry humping, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), descriptions of violence against women, vomit mention, slut shaming(?), detective!javi is very gorgeous ME, 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, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: we did it… we did it joe !! javi and OFC finally [REDACTED] !! thank u to everyone who has been keepin up w this foolery so far, it makes my lil heart happy to see engagement < 3 also wanna say that years of watching criminal minds is finally starting to pay off and i rly hope u guys are enjoying the crime aspect of the plot because i'm havin A LOT of fun writing and developing it !! shit is gonna get twisted and intricate so brace yourselves for where we're about to go !!! the smut in this chapter is heavily inspired by touch it by ariana grande so i def recommend giving that a listen bc i feel like it just fits their vibe so well (i may or may not have used some of the lyrics in the dialogue.. oop!) last thing sooo irrelevant but mayor abbott looks like jonathan bailey (bridgerton hive RISE!!) in my head so take that as u will xoxo always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

As the sun casts its golden rays over the quiet outskirts of town, a grim discovery awaits the two men. The body of Jessica Valdez, the young girl reported missing from their neighboring town, lies lifeless in a shallow ditch. Javier stands beside Sheriff Leighton, their expressions grave as they survey the scene before them.

Reporters and curious onlookers have gathered, drawn by the spectacle of flashing lights and the somber atmosphere. A small group of people whisper amongst themselves, their hushed tones mingling with the distant sound of camera shutters clicking.

Romeo’s authoritative presence looms beside him, a pillar of strength in the face of another tragedy. His eyes narrow as they push through the gathered crowd, commanding respect and order in the chaotic scene.

They duck beneath the yellow crime scene tape, ignoring the questions being hurled at them by the press.

“Are there any indications of a motive for this murder?” 

“Is this connected to the similar incidents in the area recently?”

“Is there anything the public can do to assist with the investigation?”

Javier’s stomach churns with sorrow as he takes in the sight. The body lies face down and sprawled in the dirt. He clenches his jaw, steeling himself against the wave of frustration threatening to overwhelm him.

Another failure on their behalf and all he can think about is the kiss shared between him and Paloma.

“Talk to us, Cecelia.” 

“Well, at first glance: the body is still fairly warm so she was alive a few hours ago. It looks like she was held captive somewhere due to the bruising on her wrists and ankles. There are signs of malnourishment and she has smaller injuries scattered throughout her body. I won’t know more details until I do the autopsy.” The coroner answers before continuing,” Her chest is completely slashed through, just like all the others. Still our guy. Or girl–– you never know nowadays.” 

Javier’s jaw flexes out of exasperation, mirroring the heavy sigh that escapes the sheriff’s lips. The weight of this repeated revelation settles over them like a suffocating blanket, casting a shadow over their efforts to uncover the truth.

Despite their tireless pursuit of justice, they find themselves no closer to catching the culprit or unraveling the mystery shrouding these towns. It’s fucking infuriating. 

Amidst the tangled threads of his personal life, Javier has momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being here. He has been too immersed in his own character transformation and entanglement with Paloma, overlooking the harrowing reality unfolding around him: innocent women continuing to fall victim to brutal, senseless violence.

The gravity of his oversight has a mixture of guilt and despair settling deep within his chest. 

Javier prides himself on his prowess, his ability to navigate the most intricate of cases and weather the toughest of storms. As a seasoned field agent with a string of accolades to his name (some undeserved, others very well deserved), he’s faced down challenges that would make others quiver.

Yet here he stands, feeling utterly impotent in the face of this whodunit in the confines of a sleepy town.

It gnaws at him, this sense of inadequacy, like a persistent itch he can’t scratch. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a humbling reminder of the unpredictable nature of crime and the limits of his own expertise.

He needs to be better.

“What’s interestin’, though, is this,” She stands, motioning for the two men to follow her and they share a look before wordlessly complying. Cecelia hands them both a pair of latex gloves, instructing them to put them on.

They make it a few feet away from Jessica’s body and that’s when Javi sees it.

“Is that vomit?” 

Cecelia nods, “It is. I’m betting it’s hers. The interestin’ bit isn’t that she vomited–– but the contents. Take a look. Tell me what you see.” 

Javier is the first to kneel with Romeo looking over his shoulder. He eyes the evidence, pushing his aviators to the top of his head, making out the larger chunks in the grossly colored bile.

He can’t discern what it is right away and Cecelia encourages him to use his hands, which has him looking at her ludicrously and muttering how gross this shit is in Spanish before doing as suggested.

Poking his latex clad fingers in the mess, Javi analyzes the contents and that’s when he sees a symbol marked in ink on one of the scraps.

“It’s flesh. Human flesh.” 

Shit. He sees it now, the mark is a tattoo and he quickly barks out an order to have one of the lingering deputies come take pictures of it.

“Son of a bitch is feedin’ people… people. Would explain Nina Thorton’s missin’ leg. What the fuck is goin’ on here?” The sheriff sounds defeated and Javier just remains silent as he mulls over all this new information that’s been revealed.

Kidnapped, held hostage, fed human flesh, murdered, dumped.

All the other victims up until now have only been taken then killed. None of them held captive for long. Not all of them consuming flesh.

But then there’s Nina and her postmortem severed leg.

Fuck, the answer is right there, interwoven in the intricacies and lack of details in the cases. 

No more fucking around, no more helping girls sneak back inside their homes, no more distractions. He has to focus on doing his job.

He will catch who did this, he will prove himself to be qualified to do what he was brought here to do.

Javier remains kneeled and deep in thought as Romeo and Cecelia continue on with their observations. He looks around to study their surroundings, wondering if there is anything else that is right in front of him that he cannot see.

“Three outta five have been brunettes around the same age. I think that’s something worth considering now,” Javier breaks up the conversation betweens the sheriff and coroner, both of them turning to look at him as he stands from his kneeled position and begins to take off the gloves,” Seems like they found their type. There’s got to be a purpose for the consistent victimology.” 

They’ve migrated over to Jessica’s body now, both men doing last minute look overs before she is transported back to her hometown for her parents to identify and for Cecelia to preform the autopsy.

When a deputy comes over to take the last bits of photo evidence, he looks sickly but Javier ignores it. It’s not until her body is turned upright, exposing her mauled chest, that has the younger officer hurling over and throwing up, some of it landing on Romeo.

“God fuckin’ damn it, Andrews, spew that shit elsewhere. Fuck, not only are you contaminatin’ the crime scene but you got it all over my damn pants.” 

The sheriff goes on a tangent, chewing the officer out and threatening to suspend him for two weeks with no pay. It’s harsh, Javier will admit, but he doesn’t say anything, remaining stoic with his arms crossed against his chest as he watches it unfold.

Eventually, everyone trickles out. Even the nosey reporters and townies. Javier wants to stay, walk around the area to see if anything else was left behind. Maybe something was dropped or buried nearby, and while they had assured him that others have already done a thorough search–– he’d feel more comfortable if he did it himself.

“Ya mind stoppin’ by my place so I can change? Kid ruined these.” Romeo’s gruff voice has Javier losing his train of thought, too engrossed in looking out into the vast area of the woods as the sun slowly begins to set. 

Right, they arrived together, driving from the station in Javier’s cruiser.

“Sure.” He replies plainly. His plans for the evening now include getting Romeo situated so that he can come back here and investigate all on his own. He might even drive to Fayette to retrieve the autopsy from Cecelia as soon as she completes it.

With the Leighton home being on the other side of town, this gives the two men time to talk the case over; going over all that they know and all that they’ve discovered. Romeo confides in Javier about feeling inadequate about the way he’s doing his job and, in a turn of events, Javier does the same. In his own way.

The mutual understanding is a relief, though the guilt of his kiss with Paloma is palpable and it makes Javi feel like a fraud.

Across from him is a man who has extended nothing but kindness and trust, offering camaraderie and a sense of belonging. Yet, despite this, Javier found himself drawn to his daughter in a way that was both exhilarating and forbidden.

It feels wrong, achingly so. A bitter realization that despite their mutual longing, their connection can never be fully realized. It’s a harsh wake up call: if he truly wants to better himself, he must shed his bad habit of losing himself in women and distance himself from her.

What a discomforting prospect, the inevitable separation. But he knows it’s the only way forward. He understands that in time, they will both resign themselves to the reality of their infatuation.

It’s a familiar ache, this sense of inevitability that haunts his romantic endeavors like a relentless specter. Javier knows the drill all too well; it’s not his first rodeo in navigating the treacherous terrain of severing emotional ties.

His love life feels like a series of missteps, a cursed labyrinth from which there’s no escape. Despite the initial allure of each new romance, he’s come to anticipate the eventual descent into disappointment. No matter how promising the beginning, the journey always seems to lead to the same desolate destination.

With him hurting them beyond measure.

Fuck the idea of reinventing himself here. He can find peace and monotony anywhere else.

Javier will follow through with his responsibilities, and the second he’s able to peel out of Seminary–– he will, leaving her behind as a bittersweet memory. A beautiful yet unattainable dream that he will carry with him for years to come.

As they pull in to the Leighton residence, he sees the woman that lives in his head perched up on the fence that surrounds the immediate area. Her baggy jeans are hanging low, exposing the sheer fabric of her underwear. She turns as she hears the sound of a car approaching, and her lips pull into a smile once she sees who it is.

Paloma fully expected to wake up the following day filled with regret and plagued by a hangover. The only thing she experienced was the latter, but it had quickly been nursed by a greasy breakfast and some yard work.

Javier had kissed her back, that was enough to feed into her delusions that he does want her. All inhibitions have been dropped, she’s prepared to lay herself out for him–– to tell him that she’s wanted him since the moment they met.

It might seem premature, an impulsive plunge into the uncertainty of his reaction to her feelings, but the tender memory of their shared kiss eclipses all rational thought. She finds herself irresistibly drawn to the possibility of something more, unable to resist the pull of her emotions.

His touch still lingers on her skin. His hands tracing the curves of her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She can still feel the way he had grabbed her ass then gripped onto her hips, pulling her closer to him.

But it was his mouth that left the strongest impression. His tongue had explored the depths of hers, tasting and teasing her with a ferocity that made her feel alive.

In that moment, she had felt desired, cherished, and wanted. It was a feeling that she hadn’t realized she craved so badly until last night. She knew that she would never be able to forget that kiss and the way it had made her feel.

She’s giddy, her excitement bubbling up like fizzy soda, reminiscent of the first time she ever kissed a boy. Except Javier isn’t a boy–– he’s a man. A man whose expertise and skill are a potent aphrodisiac, heightening her arousal to levels she never thought possible.

She’s been hot for him all day, even touched herself to the memory of his soft lips, the tickle of his mustache, against hers then imagining them everywhere else. The mere thought of it is enough to send her heart racing, and she knows that nothing will satisfy her until she has him in her arms again.

Romeo gets out the car, muttering that he’d be right back and Javi opts to stay put. He does not want to speak to her, knowing that the second he gazes into those beautiful brown eyes–– he’d buckle. He needs to build animosity between them; it’s the only way for them to definitively be able to separate from one another.

But she doesn’t make it easy, of course. Because the second her father is inside, she’s practically skipping over to the driver’s side of the cruiser.

“Hello officer. Here to bring me in for all those crimes I committed last night?” She teases as she leans her forearms against the rolled down window, the cowgirl hat perched on her head complimenting her so well.

Javier swallows thickly, taking a lengthy drag of the familiar cigarette between his lips. He can’t outright ignore her so he decides to be short instead.

“M’not here for games, Paloma.” 

She’s taken aback by his tone, her smile faltering.

“Well excuse me for tryin’ to make conversation. Wasn’t aware that you’re in a mood today.” 

There’s a pause despite her attempt to add a teasing tone to her words to lighten him up. It falls flat.

“And I’m not looking to have a conversation. You can go.” 

Her brows cinch together at his dismissal, this is not how she was expecting for this to go.

“What’s goin on’? Is this because we… because of the kiss last night?” She lowers her voice towards the end, red blooming across her cheeks but she keeps her composure.

“Jesus,” Javier chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. It sends a sharp pang through her heart.” Why do you always think that’s the fuckin’ problem whenever I don’t want to talk to you? For someone who claims to be a grown woman all the time, you sure as shit don’t act like it.” 

She stills, the buoyant confidence that had propelled her toward him evaporating in an instant, replaced by a wave of hurt at his unexpected chilliness. What has gotten into him?

“Drop it and move on, Paloma. We just found Jessica Valdez’s body dumped out in a ditch. S’not the time to be hung up on a damn kiss.” 

The sound of the screen door shutting close breaks her away from him and the trance she’d seemingly gone into. Another victim, another tragedy to confront… and here she is acting like a smitten teenaged girl.

The urge to cower and crawl into herself, to surrender to the overwhelming embarrassment and sorrow, threatens to engulf her entirely. She remains silent, fighting back the surge of frustrated, angry tears as she pushes off the car and trudges back toward the house.

Javier exhales heavily once she strides away without a word, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders. He had braced himself for a snide remark or some form of verbal retaliation, but her silent departure was far more impactful.

“I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.” Her father murmurs as he passes her, planting a tender kiss atop her head. He lingers there for a moment but she doesn’t question it, knowing it’s because of what they found today and she doesn’t even mind that he hasn’t told her about it.

As he breaks away, she conjures up a semblance of a genuine smile, masking her turmoil, and nods before he affectionately pinches her nose and continues on his way.

She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t cry or go inside–– instead she picks up her discarded gardening gloves and proceeds to channel her energy into the simple act of mowing the grass.

She finds herself alone at the open bar as the party continues in full swing. It’s been days since Jessica’s death, and the tense conversation she had with Javier still lingers in her mind.

“Drop it and move on, Paloma.” 

Unlike the last time they went without speaking, there is much more tension between them now. The worst part about it is having to act as if nothing is wrong in the presence of her father.

No daddy, everything’s fine! It’s not like I threw myself at your co-worker not once, but twice and both times he made me feel like a fucking idiot!

She lets out a disdainful sigh, her fingers curling around the glass containing her coveted cherry root beer since she’s decided to part ways with alcohol and any other substance for the time being.

The two men are busy mingling with other guests and have been since the moment they arrived. Despite her efforts to divert her gaze elsewhere, her eyes keep involuntarily drifting towards Javier’s broad figure.

The event had called for formal attire, so when he strode in wearing a meticulously tailored all-black suit, her breath caught in her throat. The sharp lines of his outfit, coupled with the crispness of his button-down and the matching tie, made her momentarily forget why she was so upset with him. He looked too damn handsome.

It’s brutal how the things we desire most often seem to radiate the brightest when they’re just out of reach.

Observing him mingle effortlessly with others is entertaining. Contrary to her expectations, he appears completely at ease in this bustling social setting, a far cry from the disdain he expressed for large gatherings that morning in his kitchen.

He’s acting a lot more extroverted and… smile-y. It pisses her off as much as it melts her heart.

They make their way over to her and she makes a point to not even look in his direction. Though now she’s caught between her father and Javier as they order another round of drinks. 

It really doesn’t help that they’re shoulder to shoulder. The heady aroma of his cologne, laced with the familiar tang of cigarette smoke and the faint hint of whiskey, infiltrates her senses, making it impossible to outright ignore him.

Javier Peña is like a blazing beacon and she’s the foolish moth drawn inexplicably closer to his flame. But she knows all too well the danger of getting too close, like a moth singed by the heat, the allure of his brightness can be killer.

Javier had assumed that with news of Jessica being found dead, their attendance to this party wouldn’t be mandatory.

Well, he thought wrong. It is a cruel reminder of how life goes on, even when tragedy strikes.

Another dead girl, another over-the-top party.

Which is why he’ll give it an hour–– tops–– to shake whoever’s hand and meet whoever else, then he’d leave. It’s a simple plan, the only thing making it difficult for him is his proximity to the woman he’s desperately trying to cut ties with.

She looks so beautiful tonight, donning a calf length simple black dress that hugs all her curves just right. 

“There they are! My Law and Order! Y’all keepin’ the townsfolk in line?” The boastful voice of Mayor Jonah Abbott draws near and Javier suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t have to interact with the titular birthday boy tonight.

He greets both men with a firm handshake, and when his attention turns to her; Javier has to drown the subtle spark of frustration with his drink at the way his eyes rake over her body.

“And of course, Miss. Paloma. They say a smile is worth a thousand words, but yours? It’s worth a million dreams.” He brings her hand up to his lips to plant a kiss against her knuckles and all she does is offer him a polite smile. Here we go…

“Mr. Abbott—” 

“Jonah, sweetheart. Been tellin’ you to call me that for years now.” 

Her smile threatens to twitch out of annoyance, “Jonah. Happy Birthday. Thank you for invitin’ us to your home.” 

“Always a pleasure to have you ’round. I heard about your performance up in Dallas. Shame I missed it. Woulda loved to hear that beautiful voice of yours and seen you up on that stage.” 

Javier can’t help the subtle grunt he emits at the mayor’s overt flirtation, causing for her to just briefly glance up at him with a bemused flash crossing her stare.

The familiarity of Jonah’s behavior strikes a chord within him. Once upon a time, Javier was just like this–– an arrogant charmer with a penchant for flirting with anything in a skirt. Standing here amidst the other man’s smooth talk, he sees through the facade with clarity born of experience.

It’s a performance, an act to charm his way in between Paloma’s legs, though Javi can clearly see that she’s not falling for it. Does Romeo notice it too, he wonders? Or is he blinded by the mayor’s charisma, unable to see that this man clearly wants to sleep with his daughter.

Then again, Javier’s opinion on this is irrelevant and invalid since he too has been in the same predicament since meeting her. At least he didn’t do it blatantly in front of the sheriff’s face.

Or, in a turn of events, perhaps Romeo doesn’t give a damn. Jonah Abbott presents himself as a viable candidate to be with his daughter; a young politician with deep pockets and a keen interest in her.

Javier can’t shake off the mental picture of the man’s wedding ring adorning her finger, of her transforming into the perfect, submissive wife, tending to the household and filling this place with snot nosed kids. But such a scenario doesn’t align with her fiery and headstrong nature. She’s far too independent and spirited to succumb to the confines of domesticity, particularly for a man like Jonah.

Then again, why the fuck does he care?

“Well as you know, I do two shows every weekend at The Whiskey Fox. Could always stop by and see me and the band.” 

“A busy man like myself always has a full schedule. Though I reckon I should make some time to be out in the community. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by for dinner and a show.” 

He winks at her and of course he does it when her father turns to order himself another drink. Javier’s jaw flinches.

“Now Romeo, why have you been keepin’ this badass motherfucker hidden from me? I knew we had someone new joinin’ the force but I didn’t think it’d be the Javier Peña. A goddamn American hero— right here in Seminary, Texas!” 

As Jonah begins his praises, pairing them with a harsh slap to his shoulder, Javier remains cool and calculating. He refuses to be swayed by empty compliments.

Meanwhile, she breathes a silent sigh of relief as the spotlight shifts away from her, and she finds it amusing at how everyone seems to talk about Javier.

A hero. A true patriot. Such a brave soul for fightin’ the war on drugs on Uncle Sam’s behalf.

If only they knew the truth––if they had even a glimpse of the darkness he’s had to face, they wouldn’t be so quick to idolize him.

The label of hero, bestowed upon him since the demise of Escobar, sits uneasily on his shoulders. The adulation feels like a burden he never asked for, a title he never wanted. It’s a reminder of the complexities of his past, the mistakes he’s made, and the ghosts that continue to haunt him. Javi despises the word, resenting the way it overshadows his true self and the countless sins he harbors in silence.

“Gotta keep ’em humble. Keeps the head on straight.” Romeo banters back, pulling one of those haughty, rich men laughs from the mayor. 

She cringes at the pretentiousness echoing in the air.

The men break out into small talk leaving her feeling awkward as she swirls the almost fully melted ice around the empty cup. It’s not until Jonah is getting ready to move on to a new set of guests that the attention is turned back to her.

“And you, pretty girl, owe me a song. Specifically that one Linda Ronstadt song from the Fourth of July barbecue last year. Remember? S’only fair… consider it a birthday gift from you to me.” 

Despite her inner discomfort, she maintains a face of cheerfulness, though her stomach sinks with apprehension at his request. Memories of the barbecue flood her mind, vivid recollections of his relentless pursuit despite her repeated, albeit polite, refusals.

The word ’no’ is on the tip of her tongue, but knowing all too well the persistence he’s exhibited before; she succumbs to the weight of the occasion—his birthday—and the anticipation in his eyes.

“Blue Bayou, I remember. Does the band know it?” She inquires, her gaze flickering towards the live band stationed near the open area of the dance floor where a throng of people sway to the music.

She’s secretly hoping that they don’t, but the song is very popular so her hope dwindles.

“If they don’t, they will. I’ll introduce you when it’s time.” 

With a tight and forced smile gracing her lips, she simply replies, “Okay,” accompanied by a subtle nod. His wicked grin spreads larger, almost daring Javier to react by punching him square in the jaw.

Regardless of how he feels towards her and their situation, it irks him to no end how this man blatantly disregards her boundaries.

Her body language screams apprehension, evident to anyone observant enough. However, Mayor Abbott is too fixated on persuading her to comply with his wishes to take notice. It’s apparent that he’s not accustomed to hearing the word ’no’.

Javi just holds his tongue, an insult threatening to slip out, as he finishes his drink with a practiced air of nonchalance.

The mayor finally says his goodbyes before walking away and her shoulders drop instantly.

“Guess I owe ya twenty bucks.” Romeo mutters, digging into his suit pocket for his wallet. 

The laugh she gives, though slight, simultaneously soothes and torments his heart.

Damn it all— this is going to be torture but he must endure.

“She bet that he was gonna pull somethin’ like this before leavin’ the house. I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t.” He explains to Javier as he slips his daughter the twenty dollar bill which she slyly stuffs under the fabric of her dress by her chest.

The action, seemingly simple, is so hot to him.

“How many times do I have to say m’not a damn show pony that does tricks whenever it’s asked? He’s so lucky that I’m polite and that it’s his birthday— If not I woulda told him to shove it—-” She doesn’t finish her sentence as they’re approached by a group of people that she doesn’t recognize nor care for.

She feels like an afterthought as they bombard the men with questions about the recent cases and other related topics, so she takes that as her cue to leave, ordering another mocktail before slipping away towards the dance floor.

She is fully prepared to turn her brain off to enjoy some semblance of normalcy before she’s thrown back in to the confusing pit that is her current status with the former DEA agent.

Attempting to convince herself that she’s enjoying the moment, she sways to the lively rhythm of the music, lost in her own solitary dance. A few partygoers approach her asking to join her which she declines; peeved by all the unwanted attention she’s getting.

This isn’t even her party. She holds no merit here.

Javier only catches glimpses of her from his peripheral, engrossed in a conversation with a man who remembers him from his sheriff days in Laredo, before he left for Colombia. The discourse drones on, punctuated by forced laughter and idle pleasantries. Each word falls flat, devoid of substance, yet Javier remains steadfast. Anything to keep him and his mind away from her.

Suddenly, the screeching sound of microphone feedback reverberates off the opulent walls of the ballroom-style space and she winces at noise.

“Excuse me, sorry–– I’m not very good with these things.” The man of the hour apologizes, his voice crackling through the speakers. She inwardly curses, anticipating what’s to come next. Setting her now-empty glass down on one of the nearby tables, she smooths her hands along the velvety fabric of her dress, ironing out any wrinkles, and hastily fixes her hair as best as she can without a mirror.

With a deep breath, she pushes down her nerves, summoning a smile to face the adversity when he introduces her. She steps onto the stage, the room erupting into scattered applause as she approaches the microphone.

♫

Midway through the song, to her surprise, Jonah joins her on stage, transforming the solo performance into an unexpected duet. Despite her inner discomfort, Paloma maintains a composed expression and tries to conceal any hint of surprise in her body language as he draws nearer.

Her unease heightens when he pulls her close against him, the heat of his body against hers as they sway to the rhythm of the music during the instrumental interlude of the country song. She reluctantly complies, her compliance more a result of avoidance of potential consequences than genuine willingness to dance with him.

The sight of his possessive grip on her waist, pulling her into an unwelcome dance, ignites a surge of vexation within Javier. He feels the tension in his muscles coil tighter with each step they take, their bodies moving in sync to the rhythm of the music. It’s unbearable to watch, the image of Paloma in Jonah’s arms twisting like a knife in his gut.

Without a word, Javier makes his escape, his strides purposeful as he navigates through the crowded room. He mutters a vague excuse to Romeo, the urgency in his voice betraying his need to flee from the suffocating scene unfolding before him.

Finally stepping out into the cooler night air, Javier takes a deep breath to soothe his frazzled nerves. He makes his way towards a gazebo that’s right by the large pond, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the party inside.

Leaning against the railing of the structure, he retrieves his trusty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, hands trembling slightly as he lights one. Each drag offers a fleeting moment of respite from the turmoil brewing inside him.

Inside, the song ends and she wastes no time in descending the stage, a sense of urgency propelling her movements. She refuses to linger, her mind consumed with the dread of another unwanted encounter with the mayor. Surveying the crowded room, she searches in vain for her father or Javier, but they’re nowhere to be found amidst the sea of faces.

Determined to escape the party atmosphere, Paloma makes a beeline for the exit, craving the solace of the summer night air. Stepping out onto the back porch, she inhales deeply, the breeze offering a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the event.

The night is alive with subtle sounds—toads croaking in the distance, the distant murmur of conversation—but it’s the solitary figure in the distance that captures her attention. With a sense of inevitability, Paloma finds herself drawn towards the silhouette, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she descends the steps leading to the gazebo.

When she approaches, Javier remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the tranquil expanse of water before him. The rhythmic puff of his cigarette punctuates the silence, a tangible barrier between them. Despite the tension hanging in the air, Paloma presses forward, her resolve unyielding as she closes the distance between them.

“We need to talk.” 

He stands like a statue, the weight of her words are heavy, yet he remains resolute in his silence, hoping that she’ll simply give up and leave him be. But Paloma is nothing if not persistent, her frustration bubbling over as she confronts him.

“Fuck, Javier will you at least look at me?! Acknowledge that I’m standin’ here tryin’ to speak with you?!” Her voice crackles with pent-up emotion, her southern accent thick as each word is laden with an intensity that he can’t ignore.

Reluctantly, he turns his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her figure with resignation. It’s a small concession, but it’s enough to stoke the fire of her frustration to new heights.

“I dunno why you’ve decided to be such a jerk to me all of the sudden,” she continues, her tone laced with a raw edge of hurt and confusion. “You’re tellin’ me that I’m bein’ childish a-and that I need to move on from the kiss but we both know it’s so much bigger than that. We’ve been dancin’ around it since the moment we met and I’m tired of pretendin’ like I don’t want you.” 

His eyes close briefly, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he retreats behind his stoic facade once more. His fingers find their way to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as he struggles to find the right words to respond. But before he can form a coherent thought, she presses on, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.

“I told myself I wouldn’t care if you didn’t feel the same way,” She admits, her voice growing softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. “But that was before I got to know you. Before you somehow wriggled your way into my heart and overtook my mind entirely. We became friends, and I-I didn’t want to screw that up. But then we kissed, and in that moment, I knew you wanted me just as badly…” 

She draws closer, her hand reaching out tentatively to rest on his shoulder, the touch sending a jolt of tension through his body. It’s a silent plea, a manifestation of her vulnerability, and it’s all he can do to keep his composure still as her words wash over him like a hurricane.

“Every time I see you I don’t want to behave, Javi. I’m tired of being patient, so let’s pick up the pace and finally give in.” 

He flicks his finished cigarette out into the water, the ember trailing like a shooting star before disappearing into the dark abyss below.

Slowly, he turns to face her fully, the summer air crackling with tension as he takes in her determined stance. His hand shoots out, grabbing hold of the wrist that had just been resting on him, his dark eyes boring into hers in an act of intimidation.

But Paloma doesn’t back down, her gaze unwavering as she meets his stare head-on. Instead, she brings her free hand up to rest against his chest, the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of his shirt as she steps closer, closing the gap between them until his dress shoes are toe-to-toe with her pointed heels.

He doesn’t make an effort to step away or decline her advances, his resolve crumbling in the face of her determination. Her words have jumbled him up completely, the sudden revelation of her feelings catching him off guard and leaving him reeling. The direct mention of what they’ve been indulging in for the past few months digs into his achilles’ heel—his tendency to fall in love in the damndest of times.

He stares down into her eyes, a storm of conflicting emotions raging wildly. The lust swirling in her gaze stirs something primal and raw within him. Any rational part of his brain seems to shut down in that moment, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming desire to kiss her again, to lose himself in the exhilarating whirlwind of emotions that she evokes from him.

“It’s obviously insane, m’not a fucking idiot I understand the repercussions…. but we both know what we want, so why don’t we…” She whispers, tilting her head up until their lips brush against one another.

“Why don’t we fall in love?” 

It’s not clear who makes the first move, but their lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss—a fierce collision of desire and pent-up longing that surpasses the one they had previously shared. Paloma’s hand on his chest clenches the fabric of his shirt while Javier relinquishes his grip on her wrist, his own hands rising to cradle her jaw in his palms.

The taste of the lingering cigarette smoke mingles with the faint bitterness of alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that heightens her desire. She moans softly into his mouth, her tongue intertwining with his in a desperate attempt to savor every fleeting moment before it inevitably slips away.

Javier, consumed by the intoxicating sensation, slowly walks her back until her back is against the sturdy pillar of the gazebo, his movements now possessive and urgent. He deepens the kiss, molding his body against hers as if to merge their souls into one.

Her touch is addicting, a bittersweet symphony that resonates in the depths of his bones. Despite the warnings screaming in the recesses of his mind, urging him to stop and pull away, he finds himself unable to resist the magnetic pull she exerts over him.

Breaking the kiss, Javier’s lips trail down the side of her mouth, blazing a trail of heated kisses along her jawline before descending to her neck. His teeth graze her delicate skin, resisting the urge to leave a trail of marks in their wake as his tongue traces a path along her neck and up to her earlobe, where he bites down gently.

“Is this what you wanted, nena? For me to shower you in my fucking attention?” He husks, his voice thick with desire and a hint of frustration. His words swim between them, a question laced with layers of longing and palpable need, as he continues to lavish attention upon her neck, each kiss and caress fueling the flames of their mutual desire.

Paloma just whines, arching herself into him as her thighs rub together to relieve the tension of arousal that is assaulting her core.

“Yes, Javi, that’s all I want. I want you to talk to me, to touch me, to make me feel good.” 

Her hands are now against his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket as she feels the muscles beneath tense at her touch. A low, guttural groan escapes his lips in response to her words, a primal sound that sends shivers down her spine.

“I can make you feel good, hermosa. Better than any fucking culero (asshole) in this town.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with possessiveness. With deliberate intent, Javi begins to hike up her long dress, the fabric yielding easily to his touch until it’s gathered at the top of her thighs, exposing her black, lacey panties. His hands roam lower, trailing a path of electricity along her skin until they find purchase behind her thighs, gripping the soft skin firmly as he effortlessly lifts her into his arms.

She wraps her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him as he hoists her up against the solid pillar of the gazebo. She feels his hardness pressing up against her clothed cunt and it has a sharp pang of pleasure sprouting at her core, igniting a fierce heat to course through her entirely. His touch is addicting, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through her body as she surrenders to the intrinsic urgency of their shared horniness.

The pure conviction in his tone only adds to the intensity of the moment. She wants nothing more than to be completely ruined by this man. She wants to be his, and his alone.

Javier grinds his hips up, the friction between them firing up every nerve ending. Her pussy throbs with need, aching for more of his touch. She can feel every inch of him pressing against her, his hard cock straining against his pants, begging to be released.

As their bodies move in perfect harmony, she wraps her fingers in his hair, tugging at it lightly. His lips move from her neck and crash against hers, a wild, passionate kiss that leaves them both panting for air. It grows more frenzied, their teeth clashing together in a desperate and selfish need for more. She moans into his mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electric arousal straight to his cock. He grinds harder against her, his hips moving in rhythm with hers.

She can feel her orgasm building, a fierce heat blossoming at her pussy. Her whimpers turn to animated moans as she writhes against him. The last time she dry humped someone to completion had been way back in high school and that had been an overall embarrassment so it’s never something she revisited.

Not until now, with Javier who is making her feel like she’s the only girl in the fucking world.

His fingers expertly cup her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress. She arches her back, pressing her chest into his hand, silently begging for more. He takes the hint, groping her and squeezing it gently, relishing in the way she shudders.

Her eyes close in ecstasy as he continues to knead her tit. His other hand trails along her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the heat between her legs. When he finally reaches her core, she gasps, her body trembling with need. He doesn’t touch her, instead he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her thigh.

“If this is what you wanted so fucking bad then go ahead and take it, needy girl. Go on, make yourself cum by grinding that wet pussy all over me.” 

She mewls, throwing her head back as she feels her orgasm building. She’s such a sight to bear witness to, how her swollen lips part and his name slips from her tongue like a hymn, making his cock twitch.

Her wetness seeps through her flimsy thong, leaving a damp spot on the fabric of his dress pants. He can feel it seeping through the material and it drives him mad. He needs to be inside her, to feel her walls fluttering around his cock as they finally give in to each other…

But first, he wants to watch her unravel just like this.

“I’m close, Javi…” His lips hungrily devour the tender flesh of her neck again, making her eyes roll back as their hips continue to move at a sensual pace. The metallic zipper of his pants brushes against her sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She can’t help but cry out in sweet surrender, her voice louder than before.

His large hand clamps over her mouth, preventing her screams from echoing out.

“Don’t get us caught, chiquita. Wouldn’t want your daddy comin’ out here and findin’ you like this–– all cockdrunk and begging to be fucked.” 

His dirty and abrasive words are like fuel to the flames of her impending climax, sending her spiraling out of control. Her rhythm stutters, her body writhing uncontrollably as she bites down on the skin of his palm as the orgasm overtakes her entirely.

All that can be heard is their heavy, shared pants. His hand falls from her mouth as she falls limp in his arms, her body jolting every now and again with the aftershock of her intense orgasm. 

She peppers tender kisses along the bare expanse of his jaw, silently berating him for having his shirt buttoned up for once and the pesky tie restricting her from licking and biting against the tantalizing skin of his neck and collarbone.

“Need… need to feel you, Javi, please.” She whines against his ear, her hands trailing down from his broad shoulders, over his chest, then down to his belt buckle. She can still feel the swell of him pressed up against her sopping cunt and despite just coming hard; she’s craving to feel all of him.

This is the pivotal moment where he knows he should exercise restraint, where the noble path of virtue beckons him to rise above the consuming tide of desire. To explain to her that they can and never will be anything but an unattainable fantasy.

But he doesn’t, instead Javi lets her untuck his dress shirt from his pants and helps her with unbuckling his belt.

“We shouldn’t do this, Paloma…” Is all he can say in an attempt to keep it from happening but she shushes him, her hand slipping beneath his boxers as she wraps her manicured fingers around his girth and begins to pump him slowly.

“Mierda,” He curses in Spanish, his forehead falling gently against hers as his eyes flutter close at the overwhelming feeling of her softer, smaller hand jerking him off. Her thumb glides over the tip, spreading his excessive precum over the length of his cock.

“But we want to… oh you’re so big Javi. Gonna be feelin’ you for days…” She sounds like something out of a wet dream and he simply can’t hold back any longer.

He instructs her to grab his wallet from his suit pocket and to retrieve the condom he keeps in there, receiving a playful eye roll from her but she doesn’t push her luck–– she needs him badly and she’d go absolutely feral if he decided to deny them both the pleasure of fucking.

His strong hold on her keeps them secure against the pillar, she rips the small package with her teeth then pushes his pants down enough to release his erection, rolling the latex on easily.

There’s a moment where suspension hangs in the air, both of them staring into each other’s lust blown eyes.

“Don’t think about it too much, please. Just fuck me.” 

Her insistence is such a turn on, spurring him into reaching down to ball up the thin layer of her panties before he yanks them off, the sound of the fabric tearing apart causing her to gasp. Stuffing the ruined material into his back pocket, he readjusts his hips so that the thick head of his cock presses up against her exposed and puffy folds.

“Such an impatient little thing, hermosa. I shouldn’t even give you what you want. Should just walk away and leave you here a desperate and wet mess.” 

Gripping onto the base of his cock with his free hand, Javier nudges it between her slit and teases her, the head repeatedly brushing against the pearl of her clit.

Her breath hitches, rolling her hips to entice him into entering her, “Please, Javi, I’ll do whatever you want just plea–– oh f-fuck!” 

He sinks into her pussy, leaning forward to bite down on her shoulder to keep his own sounds of pleasure at bay as he feels the way her fleshy walls contract around his cock, stretching her with how thick he is.

Her fingers return to intertwine themselves in his hair as he begins to set a delicious pace, fucking into her with a passion that’s making her see stars. The feeling of his teeth digging into her skin is an added stimulant to the already immense pleasure.

“Damn it you’re so tight. Feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl. You satisfied now that I’m giving you what you want, huh?” He grunts out, nipping at her jawline as all she does is keen and moan, too overwhelmed with how good he’s making her feel. “Spoiled little thing, gonna fuck that right out of this tight little body. So you can learn, fuck, learn how not to be such a fucking pain in my ass.” 

She’s too wrapped up in the feeling of him brushing up against her cervix to fully process what he is saying against her skin. Their lips slant over each other as they kiss messily, the way he fucks her making her brain melt.

There’s no thoughts up there, just the feeling of him as he continues to break her open with his delicious cock.

His hands fall down to her waist, holding on tightly as he goes from languid thrusts to a quicker, more brutal pace as they chase their orgasms.

She’s glad that they’re far away enough to where no one can interrupt this moment, though the idea of there being an onlooker does entice her more than she’d ever admit. 

Her legs tighten around his waist, the pointed heel of her shoes digging into his backside as she feels a knot forming at the pit of her stomach, indicating that she isn’t far from coming undone.

“C’mon nena, be a good girl and let go,” His thumb finds itself being pressed against her soft lips and immediately she opens her mouth, licking around then sucking the digit and maintaining eye contact through it all. It has Javier grunting out a few expletives before letting his saliva coated thumb drop between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit.

This has her clenching around him and crying out, which causes a smirk to tug at his lips as he puts more pressure onto her clit.” Tan bonita así, toda lista para mi. (So pretty like this, all ready for me)” 

She tugs harshly at his hair at the sound of his Spanish, her arousal topples over and her second orgasm hits her like toppling bricks. She squeezes his cock tightly inside her, her legs an iron grip on his waist as she bites down harshly on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood, to keep her intense whimpers and moans from spilling out and drawing attention to them.

Satisfied that he’s made her unravel on him, Javier fucks her through her orgasm relentlessly until he’s spilling into the condom, burying his face in her neck, right where he can feel her pulse, and grazing the skin with his teeth. He wants to leave a mark, for her to walk around with evidence of him on her body but that’d be a wrong move atop of all the other wrong moves he’s made tonight.

Paloma breathes heavily, mind hazy as she tries to recollect herself from the throes of passion bestowed upon her by Javier Peña. They stay there, embraced in one another before he pulls out of her with a grunt and she whines at the loss of him.

Her legs unwrap from his waist as he tentatively sets her down, discarding of the condom into the water as he tucks himself back into his pants and she pulls her dress down, not even bothered by the fact that he ripped her underwear right off of her.

“That was a mistake.” 

His statement cuts through the night air and she’s already struggling to catch her footing on wobbly legs, the effect of being fucked hard and good.

“Javi––” 

“No, Paloma, I’m fucking serious.” He asserts, his voice taking on a sharp edge, landing like a heavy blow on her already rattled nerves.

“All that sentimental bullshit you were saying before… it means nothing to me. You’re just a distraction–– a pretty face that’s been keeping me from doing my damn job. Now, there’s another life lost, and instead of finding answers, I’m too busy babysitting you.” 

“Don’t you dare pin your incompetence on me, Javier,” She shoots back, her tone tinged with anger and frustration,” I’ve seen my father struggle with this bullshit for months now–– it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. S’not my fault you’re not as clever as everyone thinks you are. All the praise you get for being such a fuckin’ hero and yet… look at you. Unable to meet the expectations.” 

She adjusts the thin straps of her dress back up her shoulder, wincing slightly as she brushes against the bite mark he accidentally left against her skin, knowing that she’s going to feel that atop of the soreness between her legs after this.

She braces herself for the inevitable discomfort that will follow, both physically and emotionally.

Javier’s jaw tightens, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he fights to maintain his composure. He knows better than to let her words get to him the way that they are.

This is exactly what they need, some intense fight to fully shatter the illusion of their involvement.

“Look at you, Paloma,” He sneers, his words dripping with contempt as he levels a scornful gaze at her. “Throwing yourself at me every chance you get like a whore. I used to pay for shit like this, but you? Oh, I didn’t spare a fucking dime. Giving it all up for free.” 

Her jaw drops, a surge of anger and indignation flooding her senses as his words cut through her like a knife. She raises her hand instinctively, intent on delivering a stinging rebuke in the form of a slap across his jaw. But before she can make contact, his grip tightens around her wrist, arresting her movement with an iron grip.

“Don’t be stupid, querida,” He mocks her, his voice laced with disdain as he delivers each word like a venomous dagger. “Now that I fucked you one good time: Leave. Me. Alone. How ’bout you go back inside and fraternize with the mayor. I’m sure he’s eager to give you all the male validation you’re clearly chasing after.” He tilts his head, glaring at her in contempt. “Better yet, run off to your junkie, criminal boyfriend; won’t be long before he knocks you up and you’re stuck living in a run down trailer park in this shitty fucking town.” 

Paloma’s heart shatters at his callous words, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks unchecked. She gazes up at Javier, but the man before her is no longer the sweet, charming figure she thought she knew. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now glint with coldness and malice, rendering him unrecognizable to her.

“Fuck you,” She spits, wrenching her hand free from his grip with a mixture of anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. Despite the tears welling up, she summons every ounce of defiance to shoot him a disdainful glare. “You’re a piece of shit, Javier Peña.” 

With those final words, ones he’s heard a plethora of times before, she whirls around, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden stairs as she races to the nearest bathroom.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs, she finds solace in the confines of the lavish restroom, allowing herself to unleash the torrent of tears pent up inside. Feeling foolish and utterly used, she wonders how she could have ever fallen for a man like him.

Meanwhile, Javier is left grappling with the sight of her heartbreak now etched into his memory. Pushing aside his own conflicted emotions, he knows he can’t afford to let their tangled affair distract him any longer.

This is what you both needed. He reminds himself, looking out into the water as the silver moonlight reflects off of the surface. Harsh, but she’ll get over it.

With a resigned sigh, he retrieves another cigarette, the familiar ritual offering a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm raging about.