#it's the characterization and voices that matter the most anyway

[pompadoriangray]

I understand what you're saying here and I understand where the concern is coming from. this is of course about tv shows and while those are not the fandom circles I run in anymore, the general idea does transfer to other mediums. in one of my fandoms, not even a year and a half had passed since the game's release when people were saying "oh, it's time to shut down [thing] because the fandom is dead," when it isn't and wasn't. which baffled me at the time. people were upset about it (understandably so) because there was no need to do this whatsoever. even if the moderation team had grown tired of dealing with [thing], they could have just as easily handed the reins over to someone else. just deciding that "oh, everyone is going to move on to [new fandom]" is such a weird, short-sighted thing to say. so I know that in today's modern fandom culture this is a genuine concern! younger fandomers are being exposed to fast fashion only to see that sort of thing translated into fast fandom. we're here for a few months after release and then everyone leaves! and that's awful.

but I honestly struggle to be that negative. because I'm still in fandoms for things that came out years and years and years ago. I spent the majority of the last year writing novel-length fics for an almost dead fandom. I'm now writing an effectively novel-length fic that is going to be an even longer coding project for a game that released in early February. even if young fandomers choose to adopt fast fandom practices (and don't get me wrong, this does sucks and does affect us!), we don't have to. and the majority of people my age have not done this. there are still people writing spirk! fast fandom will only become the norm if we all decide to adopt this as the standard, and I for one am not about to do so.

I will also say that this does have a positive slant to it. those people who are ready to drop fandoms after a few months of being in them were never really in them at all. we're all concerned about the increased commercialization of fandom, and that's extremely fair, but I think it is those fast fandomers that are most concerned about that kind of thing. those of us who stick with characters and storylines for the long haul just keep on trucking as they have been, even if the chance of the creator(s) seeing our work (be that art, writing, or meta) diminishes substantially. in those terms, I would even argue that those fast fandomers leaving is a good thing! it frees the rest of us up to really commit without fear of being told that we're not commercially friendly enough.

and just on a personal level, as someone who only ever gets into fandoms after characters have marinated in my brain for a while, I'm perfectly all right with not being super popular and instead being discovered by those people who are late to the party or in it for the long haul ��

Is it just me or has consuming media started to feel like a chore? Sonic Prime is out now and I want to watch it and join in on the hype and the discussion, but since it’s a Netflix series I can’t just watch the first episode and be caught up right away, I have to binge 8 whole episodes.

There isn’t the fun of talking about a specific episode, gifing scenes and making inside-jokes about parts of dialogue, because all of the small details are lost in the deluge of the overall story. There is no fun to be had waiting for next week, because we are conditioned to just consume and then move on to the next thing.

I’m afraid to get into streaming shows. It feels like such a massive time-investment to binge it all, and pacing yourself is hard when the rest of the fandom is already caught up. You have to exclude yourself from discussion just to be able to appreciate single episodes. And this has started turning me off on TV shows in general, not just the streaming ones, because it no longer feels personal. It feels more like a cultural obligation to watch the latest show. And I don’t think it’s fun to feel like you’re doing chores by watching a show.

I miss the little jokes. I miss talking and theorizing about incidental characters. I miss people catching and commenting on little background details. I miss inside jokes. I miss complaining about release schedules and long hiatuses. I miss looking at upcoming episode titles and incorrectly assuming what’s going to happen. I miss theory-crafting based on details that turned out to be innocuous. I miss fanfiction that becomes outdated the moment the next episode comes out.

I miss having fun.

[hard-core-super-star]

if you're weak, come to me [wandanat]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!wanda maximoff

summary: wanda gets injured during a mission and natasha is TOTALLY fine with that (not). they seek each other's comfort in the only way they know how.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with so many feelings and a dash of plot; mentions of dom/sub dynamics; natasha has so many feelings and no way of verbalizing them; wanda's brattiness is implied; fingering {wanda receiving}; flirty banter; begging; teasing; so many kisses; non-fatal injuries; mentions of blood; not mentioned but this takes place somewhere between age of ultron and civil war

wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: so...this week has been a LOT, i have many thoughts but they're all scattered and filled with rage so i'll save them for another time. the U.S election results have left me feeling both incredibly hopeless and numb and to counteract the heaviness of the moment, i decided to finish this fic instead of spiraling or doomscrolling. easier said than done but it's fine. thank you so much to the lovely person who commissioned this, i had a great time writing for this paring. i still don't feel super confident about my characterization of natasha but it's getting there 😅 anyway, enough rambling, i'm sending you guys all my love and support, my askbox is always open <3

* * * * * * *

No one said being an Avenger was easy.

Outside of the long hours, and the possibility of the world ending every other day, there were the unmeasurable amounts of guilt and regret and worry that seemed to plague each and every one of them. They could probably keep a whole building of therapists employed with the amount of trauma they carried.

Everyone at the compound was well aware of their personal situations, but no two felt it as strongly as Natasha and Wanda. There was no denying how well they worked together, how easy their chemistry was, the way they knew exactly what to do to stop each other from spiraling when they needed it most.

Unfortunately, there were moments where their worries clashed together and left them feeling worse than usual.

Moments like today.

Wanda had been chosen to go on a mission without Natasha and the widow had managed to threaten just about everyone she could think of until she was able to go with her girlfriend.

It all would have been fine had the witch not been incredibly annoyed by what she felt to be an overreaction. Even that would have been fine if they hadn't ended up going on the mission while they were still upset with each other.

They weren't mad enough to not worry about each other, but they still chose to go separate ways and focus on getting different things done. Something that would have been fine had Wanda not been ambushed by far too many enemy agents at once.

Steve had been the closest one to the witch and had managed to get there before things turned too sour. Unfortunately, that had been enough to make the Widow spiral. She'd heard her girlfriend request backup in that shaky voice that gave away her fear and she'd been unable to do anything about it.

If Steve had taken any longer to get to Wanda...she didn't want to think about what could have happened. She couldn't think about it.

And yet it was the only thing on her mind on the way home.

The mission had been successful, but she still felt like a failure. Like somehow, despite how inaccurate of an assessment it was, it had all been her fault. If she hadn't allowed her ego to get the better of her, she would have been there. She would have been able to help her girlfriend before she got hurt.

The witch wasn't mortally wounded in any way, but that didn't matter to her.

Wanda, for her part, felt fine. Sure, she was sore and in pain and bleeding, but she was an Avenger, getting hurt came with the territory.

It became obvious to her that her girlfriend didn't feel the same way as her when the redhead decided to ignore her on the way home. The Quinjet was small, and yet the distance between them felt massive.

It wasn't like her to sneak into people's minds without permission, but this was different. This was Natasha, and her concern for her outweighed most of her guilt around using her powers around her.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but she did it anyway, and it allowed her to see the pain her girlfriend was carrying on her shoulders. It pained her to know Natasha was blaming herself. That she didn't believe she was worth all the love the younger woman had for her.

There wasn't an easy solution to that kind of guilt, but Wanda would be dammed if she allowed her girlfriend to continue to suffer in silence.

The second they landed back at the Compound, Natasha made her way to the witch's side. There was an unreadable expression on her face as she looked her lover over and she silently extended her hand out for her.

Wanda wasted no time in accepting her help.

They made their way to their shared room, holding onto each other a little tighter than necessary. Neither of them commented on it, though, they needed the physical contact more than they were willing to admit out loud.

The silence between them bordered on awkward, but they didn't even attempt to break it. They needed to have a long conversation and it needed to happen away from prying eyes and ears.

After a tense walk, they managed to make it inside their room, and Natasha instantly set the younger woman down on the bed. "Do you need to change your bandages?"

The mention of the badly wrapped bandages made Wanda chuckle despite herself. She wasn't sure whose idea it was to go on a mission without Dr. Banner who, despite how awkward he could be about it, always did a great job at patching them up when they were hurt. Sure, it wasn't his area of expertise, but he was much better at it than Steve.

"No, I'm okay," she replied, not aware of the effect her words were going to have on her girlfriend.

The Widow let out a loud scoff. "Oh, you're okay? You were stabbed and shot at but you're okay?"

"'Tasha-"

"Don't." Her tone left no room for arguing. "You're hurt, I'm allowed to be pissed off about it."

"I never said you couldn't be upset," Wanda muttered in response. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm fine."

It was a shitty argument, but it was the best she could do given the circumstance. There was no way to win out over Natasha's stubbornness, so the only thing she could do was hope her words would eventually get through to her. That seeing her so sure that everything was fine would bring her out of the spiral she was stuck in.

The only response the Widow gave was a long sigh, her eyes betraying the true weight of her feelings.

Her hand reached out before she could stop it, and Wanda met her halfway, leaning into her touch with a small smile.

Natasha's fingers trailed across the witch's jawline as her eyes took in every little scrape that painted her delicate features. A part of her knew  she was overreacting. That they're safe and sound and Wanda's injuries will heal in no time.

And yet, it was impossible to stop desperation from building within her. The worries that threatened to swallow her whole if she allowed herself to think about things too much.

"'Tasha." Wanda's voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to get through to her lover one more time. "I'm okay."

"You were hurt."

"I've been through worse."

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. If anything, they made Natasha feel more helpless. Like despite all her skills, all her knowledge, all her training, she'll never be able to keep her lover safe.

She'll never be enough.

"Stop that, you're more than enough."

Her eyebrow raised involuntarily in response. "Get out of my mind, little witch."

"Hey! It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud."

Despite the heaviness that still lingered within her, a chuckle managed to escape past her lips. In an instant, she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Wanda's pouting lips.

It amazed her how soft the witch could be after all the pain and violence she grew up in.

More than that, it amazed her how quickly her mood was able to shift when she was with the younger woman. How easy it was for her fears to disappear when they were together.

A soft smile was written across her features when she pulled away from her lover, her eyes a mirror that reflected the affection that was clear in the witch's eyes.

"Let me fix you up, detka." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no denying the weight behind her words. "I promise I'll be quick."

Wanda couldn't help but shift nervously in response. It wasn't like she didn't trust Natasha, of course she trusted the redhead, but she knew how she could get. How easy it was for her to get caught up seeing monsters instead of shadows.

"I...are you sure? My bandages should be okay for a few hours."

"Not with the way Steve wrapped them," Natasha replied with a hint of humor in her tone.

The humor wasn't enough to mask her worry, and yet Wanda felt herself relaxing a little. If it helped her girlfriend feel better, she had no complaints about allowing her to clean her wounds up a little.

"Okay."

It was a single word that conveyed the trust she held in the redhead.

Wanda shifted back on the bed until she was laying down with her head resting on their pillows. She'd been in this position many times before, but this was different. There was an edge of vulnerability that clung to the air between them, a need for reassurance that neither of them could verbalize.

Natasha moved closer, not quite settling between the witch's legs, simply coming close enough to reach for her shirt. Her hands shook slightly as she lifted her girlfriend's shirt, her eyes taking in every inch of smooth skin that was revealed to her. Her heart ached in her chest as she examined each and every one of the cuts and bruises that littered her torso.

"I promise I'm okay," Wanda whispered, noticing her girlfriend's hesitation.

"I believe you."

Still, her head ducked down until her lips met the skin that had been revealed to her.

The gasp that escaped past the younger woman's lips made her smile. She still didn't feel completely okay but the helplessness that had settled in her chest was slowly easing away.

Her lips traced every inch of battered skin they could reach, her hands pushing the fabric up and over Wanda's head. With her shirt out of the way, she was able to fully look over the  bandages wrapped around her girlfriend's injuries. They didn't look as bad as she had expected them to and she subconciously let out a sigh of relief.

It didn't matter how many times she was reassured that the younger woman was fine, she needed to see it with her own eyes. To realize she wasn't bleeding out, there was no bullet lodged inside her, no sharp knife sticking out of her. She was fine.

She was safe.

And she was already arching her back in the way that made the Widow lose all of her control.

It wasn't about the pleasure, though. They both knew that. It was about comfort.

About being there for each other in the only way that was able cut through their anxieties. Maybe it was wrong to have to rely on the physical to get rid of the mental strain they were always under, but it made sense to them. More than that, it worked.

Because as much as they trusted and loved each other, being vulnerable wasn't something that came easy to them. Especially not after a mission when their fight or flight insticts were still on.

"I'm here," Natasha mumbled, shifting until she was hovering over her girlfriend. "I'm right here, Wands."

The words brought a beautiful smile to the witch's face. "I know...but you're still too far."

Wanda managed to work up enough courage to wrap her arms around Natasha's neck. She tried to keep her grip loose, just in case the Widow wasn't ready for too much physical contact.

"Patience," she replied. "I'm in the middle of something here. I still haven't cleaned you up."

The witch couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. The last thing on her mind right was her injuries. She felt fine. More than that, she felt weirdly needy and she needed her girlfriend's lips in a completely different spot.

She knew complaining probably wouldn't get her very far, but she couldn't help it. Maybe some light playfulness would help Natasha feel better.

"Come on, 'Tasha, that can wait. I need you right now."

The redhead paused for a second, green eyes focused intently on Wanda's face. She thought things over for a second, silently analyzing the situation in front of her. Her girlfriend seemed fine. All that seemed to linger were her wounds but not the pain they had initially brought.

It was irresponsible, she knew that much, but how was she supposed to deny her beautiful lover?

"How are you always so needy?" She replied, her soft smile growing just a tad bit teasing. "Don't tell me I've spoiled you too much."

"Maybe you have." Wanda shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I beg to differ."

Natasha leaned down to capture the witch's lips again. This time, there was a little less softness to the contact and a little more urgency. And a lot of unrestrained desperation neither of them knew what to do with.

One kiss turned into two which turned into Wanda digging her nails into Natasha's shoulders while her hips bucked involuntarily. The Widow's thigh was too far to provide the witch with any real friction and yet it only made everything feel ten times more intense. An intensity that always seemed to catch up to them when they were together in such a way.

"Nat..." Wanda groaned, head tilting back in both pleasure and desperation.

"I know." Despite the teasing edge to her response, there was nothing but affection in her tone. Nothing but devotion for her lover. "What did I say about patience?"

One of Natasha's hands made its way between their bodies, her fingers tracing a path she knew by memory. The witch didn't seem to be in the mood for much teasing but she couldn't help it. There was something so exciting about turning her girlfriend into a desperate mess.

She knew, on some level, where it came from. That Wanda needed to be taken care of just as badly as she needed to be in control. They were on opposite ends of the same spectrum.

The witch arched her back in an attempt to push her chest further into Natasha's hand, a quiet moan leaving her lips as she teased her hardned nipples. "Stop teasing."

"I've barely started, detka. Don't tell me you already can't handle it?"

"You're so mean."

"You like it."

Wanda didn't have any time to refute that claim because right when she opened her mouth to speak, the redhead decided to finally give in to what her body needed.

"I oh-" The witch's body shuddered as Natasha's hand moved down, slidding into her tight pants and cupping her wet heat. The fabric of her underwear was still in the way, but neither of them cared too much about the obstruction.

Matching moans left their lips as the Widow found the wet spot staining the younger woman's underwear, her fingers moving over the soaked fabric with renowed purpose.

"What was that?" Natasha teased. "Were you going to say something?"

Her girlfriend's tone had Wanda clenching around pure air, her hips bucking involuntarily in search of more friction. "N-no."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to."

"Fuck no. Don't stop...please."

"Good girl."

The praise sent shivers down Wanda's spine and effectively turned all her thoughts to pure mush. It should have been embarrassing how quickly she fell apart for her lover and yet all she could feel was pleasure. And maybe a little pride at how fast she managed to make Natasha give in to what she wanted.

That sort of pride was mutual, though, and it caused desire to thrum in their veins. Desire for what? That wasn't as easy to figure out. Thankfully, they had nothing but time to try.

Natasha quickly grew tired of teasing her girlfriend. Not because she didn't want to keep doing it (she really really did), but because she could tell she needed more. And after the day they'd had, she wasn't sure she'd be able to deny the witch anything.

Her fingers slid inside Wanda's ruined underwear, relishing the loud gasp that escaped the younger woman when she brushed against her clit. The witch was always sensitive, and today was no exception. It made these kinds of moments all the more exciting for her.

"Oh, fuck." Wanda's voice came out more like a whine than anything else. "Please."

"Please what?" She responded, leaning down to trail kisses down the witch's jawline. "Use your words like a good girl."

The only response she could form for a few seconds was another whine. Natasha always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, to help her sink down into that fuzzy, submissive headspace she was slowly getting used to. They hadn't done much exploring, too busy with never-ending missions to safely allow the witch to slip, but the safe experimentation they'd done had taught them both more than enough.

Mainly, it taught them how much they both thrive in that type of scenario. How much they depend on each other, on and off the battlefield.

"Don't stop," Wanda begged, feeling her hesitation fade away with every second that went by. "Touch me, fuck me, anything, please."

If Natasha was in a crueler mood, she would have taken her time to tease the younger woman. To play with her until she was a writhing, whimpering mess beneath her.

As fun as that sounded, she wasn't in the mood for that today. She wanted to let go. To help Wanda let go until all that was left was the two of them, locked together, in the sanctuary of their room.

"That's my girl." Her words were accompanied by the movement of her fingers. They slid through Wanda's slick folds before slowly easing in to her cunt. "Fuck, you're soaked for me, detka."

The witch was more than wet enough to take Natasha's fingers but the Widow still took her time, working two fingers inside and diligently watching her lover's face contort with pleasure. The way her walls fluttered around her was intoxicating, drawing the digits in deeper and practically begging her to stay buried inside her.

She moved slowly. Not because she wanted to tease but because she wanted to draw out the sensations. To overwhelm Wanda with the devotion she couldn't properly express most days.

To be fair, it didn't seem like the younger woman minded. They were both broken, albeit in different ways, and they seemed to understand eachother without words. It was the most comforting thing either of them had ever known.

But God, she was so afraid of losing this. Of losing the one good thing she had. The one person who didn't see her as the Black Widow or a S.H.I.E.L.D. product. To Wanda, she was simply 'Tasha and it meant far more to her than anything else.

It wasn't hard for Wanda to realize the change in her girlfriend's thoughts. The sudden change in her breathing, the glosiness that overtook her eyes. She knew exactly what it meant and she knew she had to do something before the redhead started drowning in her thoughts.

So, she did the only thing she could think of right now. Mainly because thinking was getting difficult and it wasn't like she could move around too much with the Widow's fingers buried in her pussy.

Her hands moved to Natasha's face, cuping her cheeks and bringing her closer until their lips met once again. The kiss was a stark contrast to the movements of the redhead's fingers, but neither of them seemed to care.

All they cared about was being together.

Wanda pulled away first, her panting breaths turning into whimpering gasps. The coil in her stomach was about ready to snap, her hips bucking desperately into the readhead's hand. "Nat- I can't, I need-"

"What do you need, detka?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer. She couldn't help it, she loved the way the witch's eyebrows furrowed in frustration when she interrupted her just to tease her.

"Need to cum, please-" Her words turned into a moan when Natasha's thumb found her swollen clit. "Please, can I cum?"

The desperation in her girlfriend's voice made the redhead smile proudly. It was hard to think about her fears when she had the witch like this. Completely and utterly under her spell.

"Of course," she replied, speeding up the thrusts of her fingers in an attempt to bring Wanda even closer to falling apart. "Come on, be a good girl and cum for me."

The witch felt overwhelmed in the best way. All she could think about, all she could feel, was Natasha. Her words, her hands, the pleasure only she was able to bring her. It was all too much yet it felt so good.

Her walls clenched around the Widow's fingers as she lost control of herself, giving in to the pleasure and letting everything else fade away. All it took was a few sharp thrusts of Natasha's fingers before she was moaning her lover's name, her eyes squeezing shut while she rode the waves of pleasure that crashed into her.

The redhead worked her through her orgasm, making sure to slow down a little to avoid overstimulating the younger woman. She leaned down to pepper kisses across each and every inch of Wanda's neck to help ground her a little more.

Neither of them were sure how much time went by before Wanda was able to open her eyes again, but when she finally did, the large, slightly goofy, smile on her face instantly gave away how she was feeling.

Still, Natasha asked anyway.

"You okay?"

"Hmmm, yeah."

The Widow chuckled, her heart practically bursting out of her chest at the sight of Wanda so happy and relaxed. It was a sight that never failed to make her feel better, no matter how shitty her day had been before.

"Good." She placed a few extra kisses across Wanda's face before shifting further down her body. "Because we're not done yet."

Natasha was talking about the remaining injuries she hadn't taken a look at yet but if they got up to other things too...well, she wouldn't complain about that.

[bumblingbabooshka]

-crawling out from under an abandoned house- B'Elanna Torres who has been denied the chance to feel feminine and small and protected and cherished (as everyone around her constantly portrays her as 'strong, angry, loner, explosive, mean, bitch, standoffish' which obviously heavily colors her perception of herself and makes her less likely to feel she can be vulnerable or she literally just can't be because she has to do her vitally important job and survive and help everyone else survive) to the point that even though she desires it she feels it's silly to even want let alone pursue or expect X Seven of Nine who has been denied the chance to explore her own relationship to gender because ever since she became aware of the concept it has been her tied (and monitored, chastised when deviating) strictly to the most traditional and sexualized definition of femininity imaginable - discovering that she's butch. Are you hearing me? B'Elanna Torres who fantasizes about being wanted gently by men, loved and yearned for by them [looking at her daydream of Chakotay, her classically romantic novels] and Seven of Nine who is not a man but is not a woman - who loves and yearns for her in a way she can't quite express through the narrow lense of heteronormative womanhood that she's been given. Seven of Nine who wants to kiss B'Elanna's hand and protect her and B'Elanna who's never once been protected by anyone, not even her parents. Her own father wouldn't protect her from bullying, saying she was too sensitive. That she should have been stronger. Tom saying he 'didn't think' she cared about romantic gestures because she's so strong and independent. [In this way she is expected, even as a child or in an intimate partnership, to take on everything stoically and to react to anything at all is an 'outsized reaction', out of character, shocking and dangerous - there is no time and no relationship no matter how intimate where she can be vulnerable and soft and wanting without it being 'too much'] Is this thing on???? Can you imagine Seven telling B'Elanna that she sees how scared she is, how fragile she is, and that she'll protect her with her life if necessary??? Can you imagine Seven, injured in some way [calculated yet foolhardy on her part], being tended to frantically but skillfully by B'Elanna who's scolding her with a furrowed brow and a voice so drenched with worry it dulls any harshness in her words which Seven isn't listening to anyway because she's too busy looking at her face and hearing the sound and cataloging how fast her heart is beating and thinking back to all those old movies Tom showed them all with scenes of women tending to their men and being rewarded for it with a kiss and an 'I'm sorry darling' and those holonovels Janeway goes through where a woman in a silk nightgown meets her monstrous lover in the rain or a darkened hall after finding out some terrible secret and nearly drops her candle upon seeing him but remains brave, holding onto her love. Everyone else might be afraid, but not her, she understands him ['we difficult patients have to stick together'] and Seven never saw herself as the tending type or the bleeding heart but B'Elanna is. B'Elanna loves machines, loves people so desperately it makes her miserable, and she never drops her candle. B'Elanna's beating, bleeding heart is pouring over her and Seven realizes she wants it for her own. She wants her for her own. Her love. Her woman. Seven - She's a scoundrel, a stately figure with a terrible secret written all over her face, a brute who doesn't deserve the tender touch he's being gifted and she raises her hands to cup B'Elanna's face and kisses her. And it's the only experience she would privately characterize as perfect. And something clicks very neatly into place.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 11

Part 11:

Liana could easily say she would pay thousands of dollars to fly home on another day. But obviously she didn't have thousands of spare dollars, and the ones who bought her the plane tickets were her parents, along with Art's parents. Of course, seating them side by side the entire way from Stanford home.

Most of the semester she managed to avoid him. From time to time she would feel a scrutinizing gaze on her and knew it was Art, but every time she looked up to tell him to go fuck himself, their eyes didn't meet.

Now she has to spend several hours on the plane next to him, with both of them remembering the last time they flew together and she fell asleep on his shoulder. Both know she doesn’t plan on sleeping a single moment on this flight. There’s no way that in a moment of weakness, she will touch Art Donaldson by choice ever again.

Liana's leg shook uncontrollably, causing Art to sigh. He wanted to pull out one of her earbuds and tell her she could relax and that he wouldn’t bite her (no matter how much he wanted to). At this stage, he already thought it was ridiculous. Months have passed, and she acted as if he didn’t exist when they both knew that if they just talked about it, this horrible period would be behind them.

"I bought the snack you like with the jam." He couldn’t resist and pulled out one of her earbuds. His hand brushed her cheek for a second. If he were a stronger man, he wouldn’t have done it. But even if Art Donaldson is strong in most areas of life, he is very weak when it comes to Liana Levy.

"Can I have it back, please?" She asked with a coldness that never characterized her. Even before Stanford, when they were younger, and she tried to make him think she didn’t want any connection to him, she wasn’t cold. She would roll her eyes, go into tantrums, and distance herself as much as she could. She was never indifferent to him. He feared this indifference like a sheep fears a lion.

He put the earbud in her hand and left his hand on hers. She let him for a moment, and he closed his eyes, relishing the touch that lasted exactly three seconds until she recovered and moved away from him as much as she could. As if he might infect her with an incurable disease.

She took the snack he bought for her. Because if there’s one thing to say about Liana, it's that she can't give up her manners, and even when she’s furious with him to the core, she will do this small act to please him. It made his heart ache and kept him silent for the rest of the flight.

Again, like in a déjà vu feeling, her father was waiting for them, and they got into the car. "Liana, even if Mom acts coldly, it's not because she's angry. Okay?" Her father suddenly said, and Liana blushed. Art examined her as she shrank into her seat. "Can we talk about this at home?" She asked quietly, embarrassed by the direction of the conversation. "No, because Mom is at home, and Art is practically family. Right, kiddo?" Her father smiled at him through the mirror. God, how he loved her father and the small window he opened for him into her life. "Anyway, she almost completely fine with everything, and she even wanted to call a few days ago to ask how you were doing." Her father continued. Art didn’t know something had happened between Liana and her mother. "How long has it been like this?" He suddenly asked, his voice much more confident when her father was in the car because he knew Liana wouldn’t complicate the situation. Especially if she’s already in some kind of fight with her mother. "Since the day we talked about London, probably. The day Li flew back to Stanford." If her father could, he would give Art her entire life story at any given moment. He really loved Art as if he were the son he never had.

Art started connecting the dots; That’s the reason she came to him as soon as she landed that day. That’s the reason she seemed so shaken, and that’s the reason he thought she had been crying. She and her mother fought that day. A fight big enough not to speak again for months. And instead of supporting her and insisting on knowing what happened, Art made that day even worse.   The thought that Patrick was going to erase him from her life sharpened at that moment. He knows Patrick would’ve read the situation better. He knows Patrick wouldn’t have acted the way he did that night. Art knows Patrick is selfish in every aspect of his life, except for Liana. While Art happens to be the most selfish when it comes to Liana.

Despite Art’s grandmother ruining all her birthdays throughout her life, Liana loved her as if she were her own grandmother. That’s how she found herself in a car with Art Donaldson, on the way to her nursing home. Because she couldn’t leave the country without seeing her, and Art... well, he heard about it from his parents and said he would drive her because he also wanted to see his grandmother. And once again, only Liana knew that Art was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

"Are we really not going to talk the whole drive?" Art asked. He was dressed nicer than usual and smiling more than usual. On another day, Liana would have found his smile charming, but the last two weeks at home had been filled with silent fights between her and her mother, who probably wouldn’t forgive her in her lifetime. Right now, Liana wanted to wipe the smug smile off Art's face with a slap. But she wasn’t a violent person, so she simply turned up the radio and looked out the window. "Are you planning anything for your birthday?" Art asked, turning the radio back down to its original volume.

"Tell me, is this a mental illness? Are you bipolar or something?" she retorted, only causing his dimple to become more pronounced. "These are really concerning mood swings, I recommend you check it out and really shut up for the rest of this trip that I don’t even know why you joined. You can visit your grandma literally any other day and not with me like a psychopath." She mumbled the last part, causing Art to chuckle.

"Is it amusing to you, Arthur?" she asked, genuinely unable to read the person in front of her. A person whom just a few months ago her instincts betrayed her and made her think she knew all about him.

"It amuses me that you're trying so hard to hate me, Li, instead of taking a moment and talking to me." He said with feigned calmness. Art knew he was getting close to the point where Liana wouldn’t be able to resist and would just spill everything that was on her mind. He knew that from the moment it happened, it would be easier for him to deal with her. He knew that from the moment she started showing him she was angry at him and not ignoring him as if he didn’t exist, he would be able to turn things back.

Maybe not to Christmas when she was completely his, but before, when she looked at him and really saw him. When she cared for him because he was sick. When she came to some of his practices. When she was an inseparable part of his day. If she'll leave when she was at that point again, maybe Patrick won’t be able to take over what remained of her feelings for him. Maybe he'd have a chance to be in her life.

"You’re delusional." She muttered, turning up the radio again. "You look beautiful today. All this to impress my grandmother? You know she already loves you." He turned it down again, still amused. Liana sighed and rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very long drive.

"Jessica, you look amazing!" Liana said and hugged Art’s grandmother. His heart filled in a way he didn’t know it could. How did he never notice? How did he not notice how much attention Liana paid to such an important figure in his life? And so for a few hours, they sat and played cards and Scrabble with his grandmother and her two friends, and they listened to gossip about the seniors at the nursing home. Liana was so good. So attentive. So present.

"Lia," his grandmother started when the three of them were left alone, "at your wedding, I won't be there, but say a few words about me so that Art’s grandfather hears from his grave and gets jealous." She tossed it out casually. As if everything in this scenario was self-evident; It was clear to her they would get married, it was clear to her she wouldn't be there, and it was clear to her that her deceased husband would hear.

Art chuckled quietly, watching Liana and seeing how red she was. Even her ears had changed color.

"Don’t worry, Grandma. We’ll talk about you the whole event." If he had been less smug about everything, he would have shut up. But he couldn’t stop himself. He had to see if he could make her blush even more. If there was another button he could press to make her release what she had against him, so eventually he could get back into her life.

"When Art gets married, Jessica, you’ll be there and hold his hand. And at my wedding, you’ll be the guest of honor." Liana said, trying to steady her voice. Art chuckled. The shameless bastard just chuckled. The look Liana shot at him would have killed any sane person. But Art didn’t consider himself very sane at that moment, and certainly not someone who feared an angry look from Liana Levy.

"She’s dismissing you, Arthur. What are you doing about it?" His grandmother looked amused by Liana’s embarrassment and Art’s feigned indifference. "Don’t worry, Grandma, I’m on it," he smiled and hugged her.

"Lia, promise me you’ll keep calling me even when you’re far away and fall in love in Europe," Jessica looked at her with a penetrating gaze. "Yes, Lia, promise her." Art said, causing her to look at him for a moment. At this stage, he wasn’t sure he would survive the day, but it would probably be a sweet way to die. "Jessica. If until now I’ve called once a week, without missing, nothing will change that." Liana hugged her again, and they moved towards the car.

"You're calling my grandma once a week?" Art didn’t know this. Why didn’t anyone tell him this? He wanted to scream. Since they were kids, Art was sure he wanted to be much closer to Liana than she wanted to be. And that was fine, he got used to the piercing looks, sarcastic words, and eye rolls. Stanford changed that. Stanford made them equals. They saw each other in the same way. They wanted to be close in the same way. They were in each other’s space. For him, Liana's change happened at Stanford. The change happened this year. And then he discovered things like this. He discovered that Liana was calling his dying grandma once a week and helping her pass the time.

"Can you fucking answer me?!" He raised his voice. He didn’t want to raise his voice. But his patience for the silent treatment, his punishment, had run out. He felt like a little boy who was told to stand in the corner for four months and expected not to explode.

"Arthur-" she sounded bored when he cut her off. "Art." He said firmly and made a sharp U-turn on the highway, driving in the opposite direction of their home. "What the fuck?! Art! Where are you going?" she asked, a bit scared by his change in approach. He didn’t answer her and continued driving until he stopped in a place empty of people, surrounded by sand with no building in sight.

"Where are we, Art?!" she asked for the umpteenth time.

Art got out of the car and closed his eyes, breathing heavily, hearing her get out too. "I'm not joking with you. Take me home. Now!" She crossed her arms under her chest, and he approached her, invading her personal space.

Liana managed to see his eyes up close for the first time in months. They were filled with tears. Her initial instinct was to reach out a hand to his cheek, but she restrained herself from moving. Their breathing was heavy as they examined each other. Art's first tear fell on his cheek.

Every bone in Liana's body screamed at her to hug him. Every internal and external limb of hers burned with the need to ease his pain. But she knew he didn’t deserve it. She knew that whatever was happening now, Art deserved to feel it.

"Please, Liana." He mumbled. His voice was broken. This wasn’t how Art planned this day. He planned to dress nicely, drive to his grandma’s, remind Liana of all the things he was good at. Remind her that he was much more kind than he was mean. Instead, he was crying. Instead, he was looking at her and realizing that in a few days she would leave, and maybe he would never feel the same way for anyone else. Maybe he didn’t want to feel all these emotions for anyone else. Maybe only with Liana could he feel so much.

Art slowly dropped to his knees. Not taking his eyes off Liana. Her breathing became even heavier, and her eyes filled with tears too. She had never seen such a thing. A person willing in the middle of the street to drop to their knees before another person, while in tears.

"Art, get up..." she mumbled, wanting to look around to see that no one was coming, but afraid to take her eyes off the scene before her. Her instinct won this time, and she placed both her hands on the sides of his face, wiping away the endless tears, while Art, like an addict to the feeling, leaned into the warm and gentle touch with his eyes closed.

"Do you even know what you did to me?" she asked, and he opened his eyes, looking at her with longing. With a desire to absorb everything she had to say to him. "You ruined me, Art Donaldson. You broke me." She said, and he stood up slowly. "I'm sorr-" he started, and her hand found his cheek with force. Liana wasn’t a violent person. Liana is not a violent person. "You have no right to ask for forgiveness." She stated. "That was the first time I slept with someone, Art." Her voice sounded like the cry of a wounded animal. "Did you think about what such a formative experience would do to my sex life? Did you think about the trust issues I would have? That I would never be able to trust anyone like I trusted you?" She cried so hard she couldn’t resist his embrace while his crying intensified.

"I will never be able to behave the way I behaved with you. You used me to get back at Patrick. You used me to win a competition only you participated in." She pushed him a bit away from her, and they stood facing each other again, both trying to breathe. After a few minutes of this, silence and piercing looks, Art dropped to his knees again, and Liana looked everywhere but at him. With the last of her strength, she tried to resist the magnetic pull Art Donaldson has on her. "Li, look at me." His broken voice commanded her without commanding, he couldn’t command anything for anyone. He was on his knees for her. "You're pathetic." She said. Without blinking. She never talked like that to anyone. All he could do was nod and hug her leg while she looked up at the sky, again with tears in her eyes, running a finger through one of his curls. "I will be good. I promise." He said what he demanded from her every time they were intimate with each other. Their gazes crossed once more, "I will be good even when you’re not here. I will be good for you."

HEYYYYYYYYY How are we doing with that gap of 2 days? I hope it was worth the wait. I hope that you're not getting tired of this story yet 'cause I'm still obsessed with them all, but I don't want you guys to feel like I'm dragging the entire thing. Patrick and Liana are going to London in the next part. Who's excited??? You're always welcome to the comments or the ask box and have a chat with me. also, taglist is open if you want :)

taglist: @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[kurishiri]

05 . . . don’t look at anyone but me ˗ˏˋ🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: let’s just say there’s a reason why this needs the most heart sends 👌

Some days had passed since Vogel came, and this was a happening of that afternoon——

(What are they talking about over there...)

Hiding behind a pillar, I tried to listen in on Nika and Ring’s conversation.

(I only came across them by chance, and yet I couldn’t help myself from hiding here anyway.)

That said, they have come all the way here as goodwill ambassadors, so I couldn’t afford to do anything rude in front of them...

(It wouldn’t be good to push them away before I even get to know them.)

While still lost in the realm of my own thoughts,

Alfons: Now whatever are you doing here?

Kate: Hyah!

Surprised by the fingers that suddenly grazed my neck, I jumped back.

And when I turned around, there Alfons stood, wearing an expression that looked as though he had found an amusing toy.

Ring: Is it just me, or were there voices?

(Oh no, we’re going to get found at this rate!)

Having turned toward my voice, they were approaching our way, and in a panic, I——

Alfons: Oh, dear me.

I grabbed Alfons’ arm and pushed him into an empty room.

(I-I hid again...)

When I heard their footsteps from the other side of the door grow more distant, I was hit with a bout of relief for a moment, when...

Alfons: Goodness gracious, to bring me into a bedroom with nobody else around... dare I say, you do so embrace a heart of indecency...!

Kate: T-that’s not it!

...Alfons looked as though he was having quite a lot of fun, and I couldn’t help but feel perplexed at the sight.

Alfons: So? Would you be so kind as to tell me what you were doing outside?

Kate: ...I just happened to run into those two members of Vogel together, and I was listening in on their conversation.

Alfons: Listening in on them... let me rephrase my previous statement: I see now that you embrace every and all sides of indecency, indeed.

Kate: And as I’ve been saying! That isn’t the case!

I turned on my heel to try and leave the room, but——

Alfons: I cannot help but think you are akin to a devil in a human’s skin when I see you expressing interest in other men, even while I am before your eyes.

Kate: How many times do I have to say—wait, what?

Alfons took the key that was laying on the shelf and locked the door before approaching the window,

out of which he threw the key.

Kate: W-what are you doing!?

Alfons: Well, you see, the door cannot be opened without a key from both the out- and inside.

On the doorknob there was only a small keyhole...

Alfons: And as a cherry on top, it would be quite a stretch to say you would survive a fall from this height.

...and I saw from the window that the ground was very much far off; even using the curtains as leverage wouldn’t help.

Alfons: And hence, we find ourselves here, stuck with no way out.

Closing the window, he turned toward me with a full smile on his face, and I thought my words were going to lose themselves, but...

Kate: Why would you do such a thing...

Alfons: I feel that because it is you we are talking about, had you not been found out, you would have gone to talk with them out of guilt for eavesdropping, no?

Kate: That...

(Well, he isn’t wrong about that.)

The reason I hid and listened in on them,

was not really because of some guilty conscience, but more so I had been waiting for an opportunity to reach out to them.

Alfons: If I recall, Harrison did say that they were lying about something.

Letting out a sigh, he approached me, his fingers grazing my ear.

Kate: !

My body strained at the tickling sensation, and I grabbed his wrist so he couldn’t touch the nape of my neck...

Alfons: It matters not what said lie is, but it is in your best interest to exercise caution.

...but the fingers touching my ears made me feel good.

Alfons: And that goes twice for you, as you have nothing shielding your heart.

I bit my lip, and Alfons’ leather-gloved fingers made their way atop my lips.

Alfons: And what if this lie they are telling is meant to deceive you?

A: For example, wheedling you for their goal, and then like this——

Kate: Mn…

His fingers slid down from my lips to the back of my neck, before going through my collarbone to my chest, tracing the curves of my breasts…

A: ——they can give you this kind of pleasure, drown you in it.

Kate: Ah…

His fingers then made their way down lower before rubbing the place between my legs over my skirt.

Alfons: They may very well be aiming for you, to make you go past the point of no return.

Kate: Hngh, ah—

Slowly, yet surely, his sweet kiss melted my thoughts, and I grasped the shirt before me in response.

Every time our tongues intertwined, an obscene sound resonated in the room…

Kate: Mnn!

…and the fingers that had been between my legs pushed down on my sensitive bud from over my clothes.

Alfons: Oh, dear, to see you succumb so easily to pleasure like this, I cannot help but worry.

A: …All that said, though, the one who rendered you like this was none other than me.

My legs, which had been trembling from the pleasure, suddenly felt weak.

Kate: ——!

I felt his fingers push harder this time, and I sank down to the floor in response.

Kate: Al…fons——

When I tried to raise my head, I felt something cool on my fingers.

It was the key that was supposed to have been thrown out.

(Wait a minute…)

I turned sharply to look at the doorknob.

There, I saw not a keyhole, but a lever that could lock from the inside,

and when I looked out the window, there were flowers just outside waving in the garden, and I remembered that we were on the first floor.

Alfons: I see you have come to the inevitable realization?

(Yes, that you used your ability on me when you spoke to me and touched my neck then!)

Kate: But why did you use your ability…

When I looked at him in protest, Alfons, who was on his knees on the floor, averted his gaze.

Alfons: …Simply because I found it quite irking at best that you were making a show of interest toward other men.

Kate: Eh…

Alfons: Why not just forget about Vogel? I am here before your eyes, and yet you have the luxury to be looking away?

Seeing him say his qualms with a frown on his face was endearing in a way.

Alfons: Well? Do you still have the time and energy to talk with those people?

The fingers that held my sleeves resembled that of a child trying not to have his precious thing stolen away.

(I was a little angry, yes, but now I can’t seem to find it in me to stay that way.)

After all, I got to see an expression I didn’t usually see on him, and my heart felt like it was going to jump out from affection.

Kate: No, I don’t. Whenever you’re here, I can’t look anywhere else.

When I said that, the arms that had been grasping my sleeves wrapped around my back, and…

Kate: Wah——

His hands made their way below my bottom, lifting me up and dropping me on the bed.

He had an expression that looked as though he was having fun, albeit somewhat different from the one he wore before, as he took off his gloves.

Alfons: Just like that, you need only look at me, and not another soul.

On the white sheets, two people’s shadows came together.

Fin.

← prev fin ecb⛓️ →

full masterlist 🪞

[ohthewh0rror]

THEO NOTT: DATING HEADCANONS

A/N: Theo is practically irrelevant to the HP series and almost entirely fan made, so this is just how I characterize him. Anyway, here’s my second favorite boy (right behind Tom).

His reputation doesn’t mean as much to him as other pure-bloods and Slytherins, so you being in a different house or being a half-blood/muggleborn isn’t going to deter him from wanting to be with you.

Will not introduce you to his father if he has any say in it, ESPECIALLY if you’re anything other than a pure-blood.

Might be hesitant to introduce you to his friends because if they offend you he will not hesitate to confront them about it, but would rather not get into a fight with his friends if he can help it.

Would 110% fight another witch/wizard over you. Typically just hexes them, but if another wizard takes it too far he’s more than willingly to fight the muggle way.

Controversial: doesn’t smoke that often, only once a day after classes end, but always invites you. He likes to hear you talk about your day, doesn’t matter how “boring” you thought it was.

Lover boy through and through. You are this man’s everything.

You once mentioned that your father used to write your mom love letters and how sweet you thought it was. So for the next 2 weeks Theo gave you little love notes throughout the day everyday.

He’s on the quiet side, so you’re the one carrying the conversation usually, but does chime in to make sure you know he’s actually listening.

Doesn’t come from a loving family, so will greedily eat up any kind touch/word you give to him.

Absolutely melts if you make/buy him any type of jewelry. He has so much money and could afford the most expensive jewelry the wizarding world has to offer, but would choose the cheap beaded bracelet you made him instead any day.

The type to do self-care with you. Face mask? Cool. Manicures? He already has a color picked out. Need help with your hair? Just tell him what to do.

Like everyone he is still human and does have negative traits.

Theo knows he is witty and has a sharp tongue when provoked and he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. So he’d rather you be angry that he’s not taking the conversation about how you feel seriously than hurt your feelings.

Theo wishes he could say he trust you completely, but his upbringing has left him with trust issues. There’s always a little voice in the back of his mind saying you’re going to fuck him over or leave him one day.

Tries his best not to listen to it. But can’t help but read into your every move, so if he gets suspicious of you that’s when the petty side of him comes out.

It pretty much consists of him accusing you and bringing up things you’re insecure about / struggling with.

Only stops if you walk away or as soon as he sees your tears.

Will apologize, but his apologies are a little on the awkward side, so they feel insincere.

Controversial (again): not kinky in bed, he’s actually fairly vanilla. The kinkiest thing this man does is fuck you from the back. Is willing to experiment though if you really want him to.

Uses typical pet names on you: babe/baby/love. But if he’s looking to tease you he calls you ‘princess’.

Father/Marriage bonus:

GIRL DAD!!! GIRL DAD ALERT!!!

Almost threw up when he first held her because of adrenaline and fear of accidentally dropping her.

Is pretty hands on, helps in any way he can when he’s not working.

Spoils his daughter to hell and back. No one tells his little girl ‘no’.

Married you a few years after your daughter is born. You two had been together since your years at Hogwarts, but the both of you wanted to take it slow as you were both still young. When you got pregnant it was honestly an accident, and once the baby was born you were so wrapped up in being new parents that marriage wasn’t crossing either of your minds.

[angelyuji]

the thing abt writing yandere fics for comic book characters is that all of them have totally different personalities in different shows and books. like take batman for example. battinson is a socially awkward, mission obsessed, billionaire who hasnt talked to a woman until selina kyle. other versions of bruce wayne went to college (dropped out), had friends and gfs (even if it was for an image), and is charming and kinda manipulative (bale!batman falls under this). and in some other comics, old man bruce wayne is an asshole who is an asshole and shitty to his kids and in others, he’s kind and forgiving and an amazing dad.

anyway what im getting to is that a lot of my yandere fics for these characters are going to be all over the place in terms of characterization.

also heres a yandere peter parker fic teehee☺️

tw // kidnapping, yandere stuff, nothing too crazy i dont think, also gwen is dead

“(y/n), just listen to me, please.” peter’s eyes water as you stare past him, a shadow of your former self. peter tries to touch you, but you jerk away. your ankle stings as the cuffs keeping you chained to his bed tightens. peter wilts, “please just listen to me. this is for your safety, (y/n).” he tries to move in front of your face, but you turn your face. you keep your eyes trained on the poster on his wall, some stupid old band. you scoff to yourself, you couldn't believe that you used to find him adorable.

peter twitches at the sound before he explodes. “JUST FUCKING LOOK AT ME.” he grabs your face, gripping you tight. you freeze, afraid to anger him further. tears drip down your face and peter softens, lightly petting your cheek.

“im sorry, im sorry.” his voice cracks. “i… i just don’t want to lose you like i lost-” he swallows, “like i lost gwen…” he breaks down, falling to his knees. he rests his head against the bed, sobs wreaking his body.

you stare at him, unsure of how to react. hesitantly, you pet his hair. his voice is muffled as he keeps his head down. “you’re the most important person in my life, (y/n).” he looks up at you: his eyes red and watering, cheeks flushed. “i can’t go through it again. i won’t.”

"please, (y/n), just- just say something. just tell me y-you won't leave me." he takes your hand and presses a kiss on the back of your hand. you feel his warm tears drip onto your skin.

you hesitate, "i..." you remember when gwen died, how grief-stricken your friend was... you couldn't break his heart again, "i won't leave you, peter. i promise." he looks up at you, his eyes watering again. he pulls himself onto the bed, much to your dismay, and pulls you into a tight hug.

"i love you so much. i love you, i love you." he continues to mumble as he buries his head in your shoulder. you sag, feeling all of the fight leave your body, and let him cry. you feel him start to nod off and his weight presses against you. you lay down, making sure not to wake him. peter continues to whisper as his eyes droop closed, "i love you, (y/n). i'll keep you safe no matter what."

[dolccreme]

aaaand part 2 for the pc character profile+ formal and work clothes are done!

part one is here

anyway, more character intro and analysis below, because i WILL show you my presentation of my ocs and it is long :]]

alrighty so i'm very big on personalities shining through implications rather than stating it obvious. like, i want you to know the characters through the actions and words they're portraying and how they're portrayed. so let's break it down! starting from part one introduction

ive's the middle child, so to speak. because of his past, he's prone to mischief, but unfortunately, he has to be the voice of reason between the three 😞

mayumi is the youngest, she's the most mischievous and dramatic. spurious means false or being fake, take that as you will.

yui is the oldest. while ive and mayumi tease and bully him like siblings do, they look up to him and feel safe around him. steadfast is synonymous to resolute, loyal, and unwavering

ive has the highest housekeeping skill level, so he's the designated cook. mayumi needs kitchen supervision and yui is not allowed to be in the same room as any form of kitchen appliances. doesn't matter if he's the oldest, he will not be allowed for safety reasons

ive listens to original pinoy music and they're more in touch with the filipino culture and food (he makes the best chicken adobo). mayumi listens to musicals because she loves the theatrics. yui listens to kpop especially songs with rebellion themes in it (there are groups that utilize this theme, but skz will always come to mind for me)

yui, for looking so stoic and intimidating, uses words like 'rat' and 'goose' to insult (fondly) his loved ones. the reaction is mixed (ive will forever be confused). ive is good with uno (specifically just uno, bc it would be so funny if he's shit at other games except this one thing,,,, which is like the only game they have available at the moment lol). mayumi, despite being prone to dramatics, has a *lot* of insecurities regarding being abandoned and has more than one occasion neglected to eat or drink

moving over to the characterizations in part 2! aka this one

first, the design incorporation for ive. i tried to use designs (from pinterest) that best fit their characters, and their symbolism. butterflies for freedom and transformation, and cats for independence. peep the wings and the literal cat too lol. and the quote about being an angel . regarding his tf and his past facade of being a true perfectly good person (shattered by the literal town and ivory wraith lol). green symbolizes renewal as well.

for yui, leaning heavily towards space and heavenly bodies. the moon is sometimes used to symbolize intuition and emotions, and the astronaut symbolizes hope and the desire to learn more (at least from what i looked into). over all, it draws on the concept of space. yui is into astronomy hahshs, especially with the quote. blue represents wisdom and reliability.

mayumi's case represents two opposing meanings. pink flowers, both different types, but pink nonetheless. flowers symbolize gentleness and femininity, something mayumi wants to emulate. the quote about being not who they really are is more of how mayumi, much like ive, has a facade to play but on her end is more because of her fears and insecurities as mentioned beforehand. she can be confident and catty, but much like yui, she's actually a softy. pink symbolizes femininity, in some cases, mischief and innocence

tidbit of their skills: ive and yui have a+ skulduggery. they have good sleight of hand but do not exactly always rely on theft for their work. mayumi on the other hand is really great with stealing.

for a girl with skullduggery at the highest possible in-game level, she absolutely cannot cheat her way to winning uno against ive. they made specific rules against him and shit but he still goddamn wins. mayumi remains devastated.

yui has b+ seduction. he's good but he's awkward.... ive has the highest seduction because they're wringing out orgasms out of clients at the spa to give them more money. little shit will and has had edged as many clients as he could. mayumi also has the highest seduction skill because she uses her looks to distract clients from noticing the fact she's stealing from them.

incorporating the future au in this, ive still mans the orphanage as the new caretaker (after proving himself). mayumi spends her time at the strip club or the brothel to flirt around and do some good ol' thieving. yui coordinates by being her personal security guard, so wherever mayumi goes to work for the night, he's there to watch over her in case she gets harassed. ive tries not to meddle with the underground world much though he is aware of it,,, yui and mayumi on the other hand,,,

despite being hands off with anything that'll get him in trouble (working at the spa pays well and he gets to edge clients still! things will never change!) he does still have the card to access the police station side door so he's the one sneaking around to clear their records.

on a lighter note: when mayumi and yui eventually stumble back into the orphanage (because they refuse to leave ive behind, yay for codependency), there's always going to be food waiting for them.

oh as for the relationship with the school lis (i have a favoritism!!!) + bailey:

ive and yui both adore robin, mayumi's not as into them

ive, yui, and mayumi are into sydney though. i like to think it's the trauma . just four traumatized people in different ways bonding being freaky idk

being kidnapped really irked ive, so they withdrew from kylar. yui is,,,, well he's just not into them,, kind of. mayumi is very into them and tries to help kylar improve his social life and health

ive and whitney have this 'its not like i like you (but i do)' dynamic. neither of them are upfront about it but they are genuine when needed be. yui does not like whitney, they're not enemies per se but the less interactions the better. mayumi plays along with whitney's shenanigans to an extent! reciprocating whit's interest towards her is on the 3 scale between 1-5.

(once dynamics are established and bad blood are cleared up, they chill in robin's room to play video games - mostly robin and kylar. i just want them all to be best buds :[)

for bailey, mayumi tries not to interact with them much. she's not exactly as physically strong as ive and yui, but she tries to hold herself despite feeling intimidated. ive can get away with most things with bailey. they've spent the longest time under bailey's care, and by god does that man care in his own way . yui rebels against bailey but not always out of worry for mayumi and ive's safety if he somehow loses and gets punished for rebelling.

[freakattack]

What do you think of Ko Takeuchi as an illustrator anyway? Do you blame him for WarioWare getting normalpilled?

LOL well either way I can't be too mad at him considering that he is the one responsible for the original lightning-in-a-bottle designs in the first place (IIRC he's been the sole credited character designer since Mega Microgrames). Truly we'll never know if the Normalbobification of warioware was a personal stylistic choice on Takeuchi's part or a push from more marketing-minded suits behind the scenes, and we will likely never know because of people like me who are fucking insane about it. I will beat a dead horse and say that his same-face syndrome for women specifically is really bad. But, to his credit, and despite the depressing new art direction of the series, his more painterly character art from Get It Together is nothing short of gorgeous:

(Yes i chose the only long orbulon in the batch DON'T look at me.)

So, overall, I don't think he's a BAD artist. The fact that I like a lot of his work actually makes the overhaul even more painful; he COULD make everyone look weird and greasy again, it would be so easy for him to make everyone look weird and greasy again. This one isn't solely an art style thing, so I'm kind of derailing here, but how did we go from this:

To this:

It just ain't right!!

But, on the other side of the coin, as much as I have qualms with the new art style and some of the changes in characterization of a lot of our guys (not just Orbulon, I think Crygor and Jimmy got hit too), I do really really love that more focus has been put on their characterization at all. Hell, Warioware Move It is basically a cartoon episode disguised as a game. That's fun as hell! From the fully-voiced Gold to the saga of Get It Together, it feels like they are really making the most of the awesome cast of weirdos at their disposal - and they always have, but now instead of all the fun stuff being relegated to websites and manuals, it's taking center stage. Something I love about warioware is just how much love the crew seems to have for these characters, and it's nice that that's still evident no matter what they look like.

[falling-star-cygnus]

HI HIII HELLO!!! -> your request has been moved over here, and i sincerely hope you enjoy!!

and i really like these ideas!! so thank you ever so much for the request, dear anonymous

i toyed with an idea like this before in my head, but i couldn't quite figure out how to articulate it ~so~ hopefully this'll help me out with Nekomata's characterization more

Spending so much time in Hollows, it's easy to forget that Billy can be harmed by things that aren't Ethereals.

Badly harmed.

Nekomata hadn't been a member of the Cunning Hares' for long, hardly long enough to be allowed into the tightly knit circle shared between the two Demara's and the android, but it's almost like that didn't matter. Especially not to Billy.

Even before she was a member, it was like he had already decided she deserved his kindness. It was a sort of bright-eyed, literally, brand of naivete that infuriated her. How dare he be so nice to her? How dare he show such kindness to the thiren that was leading them to their deaths.

How dare he make her feel so guilty, when he- when the Hares'-

Except it wasn't really the Hares' that had killed Miguel in the end, was it?

It was PubSec. And every drop of guilt Nekomata had felt was well deserved.

"Nekomata-!"

Back in the present, nowhere near a Hollow this time, she remembers being bodily shoved aside. Remembers clearly the choked down sound of pain and the crunch of metal that happened all in the blink of an eye.

Billy stood tall in front of Nekomata, stance squared as the jaws of this- yellow mutilated construction vehicle clamped around his left arm. It shook with the effort of keeping the thing from throwing him around like a chew toy- but he didn't falter.

"Kitty- you okay?" the android calls over his shoulder, his voice tight with strain and worry, "I didn't push you too hard, did I?"

"M-Me? What about you-?"

At worst her palms were a bit scraped up from hitting the asphalt, but that was more a result of the thiren's instinctual flailing than his protective insert. And he was the one in the jaws of the beast! Literally!

Care about yourself first, dummy-! Nekomata thinks venomously, shooting up to her paws as the mechanical thingamajig nearly throws her new teammate to the ground. She doesn't know what she was planning on doing, exactly, but Billy takes the decision out of her hands anyway.

He lines up a shot, somewhere between the shoulder and the armpit, and fires!

The bullet pierces the joint in a clean arc, and removes the limb with a sharp 'ting!' and a 'thud!' as it hits the concrete! It's jaws- is it the jaws? It looks more like a hand now that Nekomata isn't fearing for her life- they don't release Billy's arm until he's been nearly dragged to the floor with it.

Foolishly, the thiren had been hoping that the crunch of metal she heard was the teeth breaking on the android's build.

It wasn't.

It most definitely wasn't.

The plates of the android's arm tear like butter under the drag- ripping his red sleeve to ribbons and causing sparks to fly in firework-esque bursts. Billy brings his other hand up to one of the deeply bit teeth and tries to wrench it out without causing more damage.

Nekomata leaps to help, finally shaken out of her stupor by a startled mip of pain that Billy looses when one of the clamps catches on some wiring.

"Wait- Nekomata, your hands-"

Ah- right, the scrapes. She'd honestly forgotten about them, her gloves had absorbed most of the damage, after all- even if they'd been torn to shreds in the process.

The android tries to gently guide her hands away by the wrists, but Nekomata bullies her way closer with a hiss.

A familiar rush of anger clouds her head. His damn- friendliness. Why couldn't he just be mean?

"Billy, your arm," the thiren snaps back, tails lashing to better show her infuriation, "What're you worrying about me for, huh!? Look at you!"

"Wh- huh? But I'm fine," he exclaims, like a liar, "This can be fixed no problem! You can't!"

"That's not the point, dummy!"

Seriously! Not! The! Point! Nekomata punctuates each thought with a bap to his fluffy hair. How dare he! How. Dare. He! How dare he imply his injuries mattered any less! The nerve!

...huh. It was surprisingly soft.

Before she even realizes what she's doing, her hand simply- ruffles it from side to side. The android sputters in confusion under her ministrations.

"Nekomata!?"

"Shut up!"

Billy shuts up.

The two stay there in silence for a few more minutes, and eventually the thiren moves back to help him free what's left of his arm. He doesn't push her away this time, even though he's clearly not happy with the agitation of her scrapes.

He could be missing a limb- and he's worried about her. Her, who hasn't even been a member of the Hares' a full three months!

Stupid, big hearted, stupid android.

"You know," Nekomata starts, even though she doesn't really know where she's going with this, she just wants him to get it already, "it doesn't matter that you can be put together again. It still happened."

Billy stills under her hands with a surprised little noise, but she just tightens her grip and barrels on.

"You'll still remember it happened."

The last clamp finally gets pulled free, but it snips right through a wire on it's way out, and the android bites back a yelp as he stumbles forward. Nekomata is quick to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hold tight- half to keep him upright and half to keep him close.

"So please," she begs, burying her face into his jacket collar, "Please don't pretend that it didn't."

She can feel him jolt in her impromptu hug, and for a terrifying moment she's scared he might pull away and brush it all off again, the thiren couldn't really stop him if he truly wanted to- but Billy just brings his arm up to hug Nekomata back.

His grip is so unbelievably soft- feeble.

"...okay." he says, not a promise but an acknowledgement, "okay."

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter I.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

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

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

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

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

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

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

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It almost looks too normal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does this all the time.

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

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

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

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

Beautifully.

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

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

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

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

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

He must really be trying to make an impression.

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

Like her mother’s things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That must be him.

“Daddy, your friend’s here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who is this?

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

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

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

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

Damn.

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

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

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

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

She’s never heard anyone say it like that.

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

Her thighs clench involuntarily.

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

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

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

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

“It’s so sad, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is utterly interested in getting to know him better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should sing him somethin’. ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pleasure’s all mine, Miss Leighton.”

[marichild]

AO3 Wrapped #2 (Mari’s Version)

crazy year it has been for fic writing. careening into four(?) fandoms and being so absolutely insane about all of them. I think you can see here that I am not normal about anything ever

words written

technically, about 362k, but a lot of that is from my monster of a vampire au from … a while ago, so around 290k, probably. lmao.

works published

37, counting out the three chaptered fics I’ve had since before the year started, and also counting in one fic that’s on anon! I don’t know how I even got here, lmao. but it’s nice to know I’ve been pretty consistent with my writing this year, by my standards, anyway.

work I’m most proud of

what should we become, in what form, although only published in december, is one work I’ve been putting so much effort into since like … august, probably. this could be because that as much as the jujutsu kaisen world has disappointed me, it’s so dear to me—especially the characters. I’ve said this before, but while I knew I would become obsessed with satosugu even before I got into this fandom (what can I say, I’m weak for best friends, devotion, and betrayal), I didn’t expect to become so, so dearly attached to the gojo & megumi dynamic. so.

this fic, while it is worldbuilding and exploring gojo’s character, does also count as a love letter to them. I’ll stop now before I get carried away— (but be on the lookout for an update this month or next!)

also! shoutout to careless as could be! although it’s a rarepair, sigma & chuuya is a dynamic I’ve been enamored by since the moment they revealed sigma’s origin. something about humanness, affirming yourself, allowing yourself to live as the way you are, no matter what you were born from. their dynamic could be interesting and I’m genuinely hoping this is the direction asagiri takes it in once the narrative shifts back to focusing on dazai, chuuya, and sigma.

I think the thing I am most proud of with this fic is the characterization, because as I’ve said before, I’m so picky about sigma and chuuya characterization, even with my own writing, so it’s just … nice to see it done, you know?

also, I would say that the fic I wrote for New Year (which I unfortunately was not able to do this year), the little blue bird that’s lost its voice, does stand out. I think it does a good job depicting what it has to be like, loving your best friend, who, well. wants to die. shin and his mindset is always something that has intrigued me, of course, and who would I be if I didn’t add to the raiden/shin tag? overall, for how little this fic was planned, reading over it, I am happy with the thread of desperation and yearning that runs through the whole thing!

work that readers enjoyed the most

I’m not even going to lie when I say that evidently people are enjoying my taegyu porn, you know i want it bad, because. well. do I even have to say anything? I see you, you horny demons /aff (it is also worth noting that I refuse to look at this unless I get a comment …)

although. a close second is because you had shared it with me, this love and that’s…well, I do feel bad? I haven’t updated in a while not because I don’t feel the spark, but due to personal reasons, the very premise of this if i stay au kinda freaks me out. although I’m trying to ease myself back into it, the fact that the scary event that puts me off writing this au happened while I was well into writing it…well. I do try to tell myself that everything is okay now, but we’ll see. zeroses, please wait for me <3

fastest work to write

I have a lot of ficlets ranging from 1k to 2k that took a few hours to write (that’s the power of xikers I guess. specifically woojungz) but talking about longer fics, it took me about two days to write couldn’t even become a nobody, my transfem dazai / dazakiko fic, which is around 6k words, or speaking of even longer fics, five days like a deranged man with tunnel-vision for we’ve met like a miracle, my 13k T4T soulseob high school au. crazy work.

I’m kind of proud of myself, because even for the short amount of time and little to no editing done, I really do like what I did with that one there, especially because I was so busy with schoolwork and stuff, lol.

slowest work to write

strictly speaking of this year, this precious moment. not because I didn’t have the fuel, but because I was genuinely scared of what I was doing. I was kind of … doing a new thing for the fandom specifically, writing about a trans man’s pregnancy and subsequent raising of the child together with his partner. it took a few months, maybe? at least four.

while I know very well that there’s nothing wrong with that at all, it was such precious and personal work to me that I needed to do it justice, and also, I wasn’t ready to face criticism for it. I want to thank my friends sol and @draco-renn for encouraging me to post it. and draco for being the number one fan of the verse, haha. xi is the real reason I wrote that kindergarten sequel, really <3

number of WIPs I’m taking into 2025

um. well. quite a bit! if I do a process of elimination and count in only the ones I’m likely to be finishing, then 28 or so. at least. it’s a problem.

favorite character to write

*through gritted teeth* welcome, dazai osamu. I literally don’t like that dazai is so fun to write. what is wrong with him. go away you little gremlin.

okay but for real, besides the crowning king gendermess, I think my favorite to write this year has been either gojo or megumi. to absolutely no one’s surprise. there’s something fun about getting to write from their perspectives, especially exploring their respective stances on power, love, and what it means to be a sorcerer—and counting in both canon and in an au context, how they process the love they are given, how they react to more normal real-life situations. idk. they’re my beloved blorbos.

shoutout out to till alien stage. I love writing angry rebels who continually throw themselves into a wall. metaphorically and literally. I haven’t written luka perspective yet, but writing about him the way others see him … god. it’s so much fun.

favorite lines I’ve written this year:

from we’ve met like a miracle:

But. It’s Shota. He’s always been awfully good at tugging Jongseob along to his rhythm, catching all the flyaway strands of her seams as he goes, laughing in delight. And that’s the real miracle: that Jongseob’s been able to keep in step with him this entire time. She prays she never falls out of step, that their rhythm carries on.

from what should we become, in what form:

Because, he thinks as Tsumiki looks up at him with shining eyes and too-pale skin flushed with delight, searching for approval, he can’t let them become another Gojo Satoru, finding the meaning in life far too late, far too little of it. He can’t let them become another Geto Suguru, going crazy until salvation reaches him, only for that to not be enough, too.

He can’t let them become like this generation of sorcerers. He’ll be damned if either of them end up on Shoko’s morgue table, like nearly all his upperclassmen, like Haibara, or children like Riko—

“Tsumiki-chan wins!” he grins, and for once, his boisterousness feels real despite the tears threatening, despite the cursed energy crackling in the air as a result. It feels real and true and good, despite Megumi’s concerned blinking, like he doesn’t know what he’s sensing. The blinking morphs to an offended scowl.

from the little blue bird that’s lost its voice:

But, when has Raiden ever been someone who’s given up? Especially not on his friends. His best friends. The only boy he’s ever loved this much. Because anyone would be a fool to give up on Shinei Nouzen, constructed of fragile, jagged glass and unraveling stitches of frayed stubbornness, a core of bloodied, torn gold. Because even if Raiden shouldn’t, loving Shin has always been a foregone conclusion.

Because when you love someone, even the threat of shattering yourself isn’t enough to stop yourself from jumping off the edge with them, if nothing else.

and finally, from careless as could be:

“You come in here reeking of blood,” Sigma deadpans. They feel like they’re playing with a fire here, a dangerously volatile one, and it’s—it’s thrilling. Besides, it is unfair of Chuuya to say that. “I’ve heard too much about what you’re capable of.”

You scare me, they don’t say. Judging from Chuuya’s raised eyebrow, he heard the subtext loud and clear, and he smirks. He smirks.

“That’s true,” he agrees. “It’d be easy enough for me to break your neck.”

Sigma’s stomach flips. “Would you?”

this was entirely based on @fushiglow ’s post! and also @hollow-lime-green !

anyone who sees this is welcome to try this as well! I think you’d like doing this, @anticidic @ryuvnosuke @littencloud9 @sunnyyflowerrs @zukkaoru but no pressure ofcs <3

[flowercrowngods]

hi!

just read your fic of valery and shenkov (posted on thenatashapulleyuniverse) - the writing! the characterization! you capture the essence of them both in the most luscious way, a truest delight to read

thank you so much for writing it, lots of love <33333

aaah oh my god thank you!! 🥹🥰 this ask is so sweet, what a wonderful thing to wake up to 🥹 i’m so happy you liked it!!

and technically what i sent to them was only the beginning of what in my head is a slightly bigger thing (right up in my kostya feels), but i have a lot of things on my plate and thus need to be patient with myself and write only in increments unfortunately 😔

but anyway, since you’re here now— 👀🤍

[preceding snippet the ask is about]

There is no response to his words, and Valery wonders not for the first time if this house swallows noise just like the lab will swallow time. Maybe the impossibility of their situation has created the tiniest of black holes right here, swallowing the gentlest wishes of a good morning or a good night, and forcing them to repeat the words and fight to make them true.

Valery sets his coffee mug — half empty already because there are no boundaries between the two of them — beside Kostya’s, frowning when he still doesn’t move, doesn’t look up or reach over to acknowledge Valery’s presence. On other Sunday mornings, Kostya would lean back in his chair, the back of his head bumping into Valery’s chest with a happy little sigh, and he’d get a kiss to his forehead for his troubles. Then Valery would ask him what the newspaper said, what his least favourite word of the day is, and why the Brits are madmen for inventing it.

But Kostya is immovable, and Valery wonders if the tiny black hole that swallowed his voice has come and swallowed Kostya’s mind, too.

“Kostya,” he speaks instead, daring the world confined to their living room to challenge their impossibility and steal his voice once more. His hands come up — slowly and gently — to rest on Konstantin’s shoulders, which seem tense even buried beneath his navy blue sweater.

Time seems suspended between gentle touch and careful consideration, but then Valery feels tense muscles becoming rock solid for just a fraction of a second before Konstantin flinches and all but wrenches himself out of Valery’s touch with a choked breath.

Something inside him breaks at the sound of it, at the vision of Konstantin curled forward, as far out of Valery’s reach as he can be with the table in front of him. Valery takes a step back, feeling the black hole grow in size and viciousness, and stumbling as its mass bends gravity around it, sucking him in and away from Konstantin.

He grips the kitchen counter to stabilise himself and keep his mind from running away, running in circles trying to solve a problem he doesn’t yet know the origins of. All he does know is that touching Konstantin seems like a bad idea right now — no matter how his hands twitch, his mind conjuring up images of the two of them curled together, Valery draped over his back as Konstantin attempts to understand the Brits’ obsession with one thing or another, murmuring Russian insults between them like they’re a secret love language.

“I’m sorry,” comes Konstantin’s voice, too carefully crafted into something presentable that Valery can easily make out its shakiness. It hangs in the air, brittle, just waiting to break apart and reveal what it truly means.

So Valery waits. He watches as Konstantin clenches and unclenches his hand, reaching for Valery’s coffee mug to wrap his hands around it. It’s a silent message, one he might not be all that aware of but Valery is good at waiting, he’s good at observing and finding patterns. Kostya will find something of Valery’s when he could have easily used his own, and attempt to ground himself with it. Even when they’re fighting.

It leaves him grateful beneath his confusion, that he left it there.

“I’m sorry,” Konstantin says again, but still he doesn’t move. Frozen again — or still.

“It’s alright,” Valery says, his own shaky voice a thousand times more stable than Konstantin’s. “I promise, it’s alright. We’re safe.”

Konstantin huffs, and the black hole is not kind enough to swallow it this time, leaving Valery to frown, the weight of worry becoming nearly unbearable now. Does he not believe it? Does he not know?

“Talk to me, Kostya,” he pleas, his voice a whisper still, his hands clenching around the counter to keep himself from reaching out to the man he loves and challenging their impossibilities one time too many.

[en-esprit-de-corps]

Hello Ladies, Gentlemen… and Others.

What better way to start off an introduction than with a David Bowie quote eh?

Anyway hi! I’m Kit. You can call me a girl, or a boy, or whatever. This is the internet so go crazy. My Family is Franco-Gaelic (Irish and French, duh) and I’m -if I do say so myself- quite well versed in all things Gotham. Alright personal info time.

Name: Kit Tierney Chevalier; you can call me Kit, KC, or KT, doesn’t really matter to me.

Age: 16

Pronouns; She/They/Any

Height: 5’3” or 160 cm if you’re not American

Physical Descriptors: Not super athletic but not necessarily weak, hypermobile and extremely flexible. Pale as hell, red hair, the most subtle heterochromia you have ever seen, seriously one is blue and the other is like greenish-blue.

Oh, yeah and I’m really into Disco Elysium.

See you on the other side losers.

Yo! Mun here! Both me and Kit are minors so don’t be weird for the love of God.

This blog is specifically affiliated with @bluesheep23 and some others in basically a DC Magical Girl group pretty heavily based on PreCure and Madoka Magica that may or may not end up being affiliated with the Lanterns in some way. We’re not really sure yet. I also run the @/morally-ambiguous-bird blog.

So yeah basically this is for shits and giggles.

LORE SECTION

Dimensional Constant.

That means exactly what it sounds like, a version of her exists in every timeline, continuity, and canon. If you think that may take a toll, that’s because it does. Kit often displays dramatic mood swings, going from calm to erratic to borderline manic. (I wouldn’t characterize it as DID necessarily, this is heavily based off Mun’s personal experiences and I’m currently being evaluated for a dissociative disorder so i’ll get back to y’all on this) This is due to the fact all iterations of her are essentially linked together. So like, voices in her head but they’re all technically her own.

Dimension hopping is another part of this. Specifically Arcane style minus the need for machinery, She essentially hops into the body of her alternate universes self and their consciousnesses merge.

This has understandably caused a bit of a fracture in her psyche, unable to differentiate which thoughts, feelings and even memories are her own. (They all technically are, but she can’t wrap her head around that.)

Her first few jumps were unintentional, before she was unable to control her abilities, and was unable to find her way back to her original dimension and timeline.

Spent ‘years’ (time passes differently when outside her dimension) searching through countless dimensions for her younger brother, whose name she has forgotten after so much time. Her memory of her home dimension fading has only added to her fragility, making her extremely protective over younger children.

Rudimentary Time Travel

Literally just think Five from Umbrella Academy, right down to the simultaneously immature and old person personality.

Weird Biology

Idk what else to call it, when two versions of her merge there is a slight DNA overlap despite the fusion being mainly mental, leaving her with some more than peculiar gene sequences. And apparently eyes that glow in the dark like a cats. Weird.

Last Updated 01/25/2025

[beatcroc]

shadow t. hedgehog

shadow was like THE favorite character for teen me, to the point where he was part of my online username and...representation, but these days i enjoy him just a regular amount and i'd only really slip him in at the very bottom of my top 10 sonic characters. that being said,

oh boy.

i think shadow is going to be an extremely loaded character no matter which angle you're approaching him from. theres just 🤌 so much nuance.

"canon" in this case is referring to the infamous sega mandates restricting anyone from doing anything good with him. pretty much everyone in the position to DO anything with his characterization [writers, voice actors, etc] has very strong and really great ideas about where his character should be headed, and it has all continually clashed with the company's heads' ideas about him . literally everyone who's made any sort of official sonic media the past several years has made comments like 'yeah sega is super fucking protective of him he's hard to do anything with'. that being said, it seems like the fight has paid off and the worst of the limitations on his portrayals are dissolving. dark beginnings was fantastic, i've heard good things about shadow gens, and the sonic 3 movie does very well with him as well; i'm willing to cautiously trust things now, but boy he sure does have a fucking history. there's also the matter of his wildly inconsistent characterization in earlier days but i didnt play most of those games so i dont really care about any of that lol. anyway tldr: writer canon kicks ass, sega canon eat my dick.

now......... with regard to "everyone else", fanon does have tons of fun stuff for shadow wrt to the majority of the cast --ESPECIALLY maria oh my god, and of course team dark content never gets old; i do really genuinely love this stuff-- but....... vast swaths of people just don't quite seem to get that he just straight up doesn't like sonic. he respects sonic and his abilities sure, but they're not gonna be, like, friends [MUCH LESS LOVERS??????????] because shadow just thinks hes really abrasive. i feel like this shouldn't be hard. some people just have clashing ideals and arent going to get along or want to be around eachother save for some other circumstance that may force them to cooperate.

nuance on "if anything happens to him" ties back into the first point in that.... well... idk, he's a character who's interesting to see when facing adversity; i wouldn't cry about it like "my baby getting hurt" the same way i would for, like, the scrapniks, but in the same token the dude has suffered Enough can we Please do something else with him im Tired of suffering being all he has. let him move on. [again, what i've heard of shadow gens bodes well for this but you can never trust this fucking franchise]

as for the other stuff, shadow isn't really "silly" for his own purposes, but he is just kind of an inherently absurd character when you take in the full breadth of it. he's an edgy loner immortal antihero but then the voice actor saying he does like a bunch of charity work and volunteers at soup kitchens and shit. and he is correct for this like that would literally be an awesome path for shadow's character. it's silly. one of my friends thinks he should be lurking at tim horton's [because dunkin donuts is too social] with a laptop writing some overcomplex YA novel and i could not be more in favor of that. he's The Ultimate Lifeform:tm: and also just some fucking guy and a grumpy old man and its SILLY. shadow is a man of contrasts and thats what makes him awesome. he's effortlessly cool and badass and has an unfuckwithable vibe/aesthetic that demands respect but also he eats coffee beans with a spoon. and you let him do it because its Shadow The Fucking Hedgehog.

[honeydukesheroine]

1 and 2 for our girl ginny?

For the Character Ask Game!

Why do you like and dislike this character? And my favorite canon thing about this character.

Ginny Weasley, the queen she is!!

There’s so much to love, but I think it’s her understated (in canon anyway) character arc throughout the series that draws me to her. How she is portrayed as vulnerable in the first books to the powerhouse of a WOMAN she becomes by the end is character development if I’ve ever seen it. That’s why my story TIBs has such a Ginny emphasis - her story deserves all the telling and retellings that fandom can hold.

She has this wonderful balance of softness and fierceness that I appreciate so much. I think she’s a wonderful example of how femininity and bravery and leadership and nurturing kindness can all exist in one person.

I’m hard pressed to find a dislike about Ginny! Right now, the only thing I can think of is her jokes at Ron’s expense - but even that is reflective of a typical teenage sibling relationship and the jokes aren’t necessarily unfounded or undeserved 😂

My biggest pet peeve is her being depicted as heartless in the fandom or that her anger and feistiness is what takes over in every situation. It feels one dimensional to me. It’s just not what we see in canon - for the people and situations that matter most, she has a soft heart. Her protection of Luna from social taunting, her taking Harry’s hand after Dumbledore’s death, the WHOLE break up scene 💔. For a long time I imagined what their reunion scene would be after DH, and searched fic after fic to find a (in my opinion) true depiction would look like. But I’ll tell you what - it’s not ranting and punching and throwing plates and slapping Harry and storming off. That’s a big deal breaker for me in post war stories.

She’s been such a fun character to write in TIBs, I love to disappear and pretend to be as brave and funny and badass as she is.

I think @fizzyginfizz has one of the best characterizations of Ginny in fandom! I always tell her how I am nervous for her to beta read my Ginny chapters because GinFizz is the Ginny POV Queen. She captures her voice and character development so darn well - so go read Quidditch is for Losers by GinFizz!