#me yelling @ silver: UR IN LOVE BINCH

[slverjohn]

19 and s2 flinthamilton :)

EDIT: it’s been pointed out to me that this was meant to be flintham but i misread the ask and it ended up as silverflint??? i’m so sorry?? this is why i shouldn’t do things while i’m sick it’s like my brain only half works

oh my god this was a hard one…i changed the dialogue slightly but the sentiment is the same sdkljghasdkgj

inspired by that one description of flint’s cabin in some early script that mentioned a half painted landscape 

19. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”

It’s dark and dusty in the hold, and beyond that absolutely stifling. Silver’s sweating through his shirt after spending two minutes in the cramped room. Why he’s been asked to look through the stores on the Warship is something of a mystery: Flint had asked for him within minutes of returning with the Ashe girl, and instead of asking him to corral the men or take a headcount, like Silver had expected, he’d sent him below deck without a moment’s hesitation. 

Silver suspects that Flint wants his prying eyes and inquisitive mind away from the Barlow woman for as long as possible. He can’t blame the Captain, really: he’d do the same, if he were trying to maintain some mystery. 

He can’t say he particularly minds, despite the physical discomfort; better here than in the galley with Randall.  Even further, Silver would rather not spend too much time with Flint at the moment. Despite the many years of practice he’s had of self-serving double crossing, standing in Flint’s presence so soon after he’d betrayed him had made Silver uneasy. Something almost like guilt had begun to settle in his belly.

Perish the thought. 

Billy comes down just as he’s finishing his task, only one crate left to sort through. 

“What’s in that, then?” Billy asks, peering over the siding.

“A few jars of paint, I think,” Silver says, double checking the checklist hanging on the wall. 

“You should bring that to the Captain’s cabin. Call it a peace offering. Can’t have you glaring at Flint all the time, after all.”

Silver stares at Billy as if he’s grown two extra heads. “I’m sorry, you want me to put the paint where?”

“Look, Flint’s a bastard. I’m sure whatever he said to make you so cross with him was fucked up. But if the rest of the crew realizes how angry you are with him, it’s going to make our lives a lot more difficult.”

Silver doesn’t think the crew cares quite that much what he thinks of Flint, but he’s still stuck on the paint. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand what paint has to do with any of this.”

“Flint’s a painter. Back on the Walrus, if you’d bothered to pay attention, you’d have seen all those half-finished canvases scattered around.”

Silver had seen the canvases, but for whatever reason he’d never quite made the connection between the artwork itself and Flint as an artist.

Billy moves on, asking about Logan, about how Muldoon is taking his friend’s sudden departure, but Silver’s participation in the conversation is half-assed, at best. 

He remembers seeing the paintings, he remembers thinking they were slightly out of place in a pirate captain’s cabin, but he cannot for the life of him remember what was on the canvases. Were they landscapes or portraits? Romantic or realist? Good or bad?

He has no idea, and he’s burning with curiosity. 

It is this curiosity more than anything else that leads him to Flint’s cabin after dinner, the paints in one hand and the other hovering just over the closed door. 

“You could just knock, you know,” an amused voice comes from behind him, and he whirls around to see Mrs. Barlow watching him with a smirk. 

“I was going to,” he insists, though he feels himself color slightly at her raised brow.

“Well, no need to knock now,” she replies, and with that she simply walks in, holding the door open behind her. “Come along, Mr. Silver.”

Silver’s surprised that she knows who he is, but he’s distracted almost immediately as Flint stands abruptly at the sight of him, the heavy desk chair scraping loudly along the wood.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Flint demands, and (though he doesn’t break eye contact with Flint) he could swear he hears Barlow let out a put-upon sigh. 

Silver thrusts the box of paint out in front of him as if it could shield him from Flint’s irritation. “I brought you these.”

And Flint - Flint actually looks surprised at that, like the last thing he’d ever expected from Silver was a gift. Silver doesn’t want Flint to think he likes him or anything, though, so he’s quick to elaborate.

“I found them in the hold, and Billy mentioned that you like to paint. I figured they’d be better off here in your possession than gathering dust in hold.”

“Oh, how thoughtful, Mr. Silver. James so rarely paints, now, hardly ever has the patience for it. When was the last time you did something other than just a charcoal sketch?” The longer Barlow speaks, the more Flint’s eye twitches. It’s truly a fascinating cause-and-effect relationship.

“I must say, Captain, I never took you for such an artistic soul. I’d love to see your work, sometime,” Silver says, like the shit he is, because he wants to see if he can make that vein on Flint’s forehead start to pulse.

He can.

“Fuck off, Silver,” Flint says, but when Barlow clears her throat pointedly, He sighs, then continues. “Thank you, Mr. Silver. Now, please fuck off.”

Silver laughs, then walks forward to place the paints on the desk. Before he can turn to leave, though, Mrs. Barlow starts to talk again.

“James, why don’t we go for a walk on the upper decks? It’s a lovely night, and it’s been ever so long since I’ve been able to look upon the sea in such a manner,” she offers Flint her arm, and the look her companion gives her seems to be a strange mix of guilty, fond, and exasperated. It’s amazing, how expressive Flint is when he’s around her. 

“Fine. Silver, put that box in the empty space on that bottom shelf, will you?” Flint points to the bookcase in the corner, then loops his arm through hers. Before they leave though, Barlow catches Silver’s eye, looking between him and a leather-bound book on the far table pointedly.  Silver nods his understanding, brow furrowed slightly; why would Barlow purposefully point him toward something Flint clearly does not wish to share?

Still, Silver’s always been a nosy son-of-a-bitch, and so as soon as they’re gone he all but shoves the paints away and picks up what he assumes is Flint’s sketchbook.

It’s clear that he’s only just started using it, probably having found it after taking the Warship. The first three or four pages are detailed seascapes, vibrant and lively even in black charcoal. Flint’s gifted. Out of practice, Silver can tell, but good.

Interspersed between the landscapes are little portraits, some barely more than the bare-bones of a person’s face, and some intricate and life-like. At first, it’s mostly Mrs. Barlow, in various states of repose. There’s one of her naked, and Silver nearly tears the page in his haste to turn it, cheeks aflame. 

Then there’s a neat little sketch of Eleanor Guthrie, a scribbled out Gates, a kind-looking man Silver doesn’t recognize, and then -

Him.

Silver feels his brows raise, taken aback. 

It was clearly drawn after one of his earliest addresses: the Silver on the page has a bloody nose, and his teeth, bared in a mean grin, are stained dark as well. It really does look just like him, Silver thinks, and he notices absently that Flint seems to have put the most effort into getting his hair just right.

Maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised: they’ve been practically living in each other’s pockets these past few weeks, and it makes sense that Flint would simply sketch what he’s been exposed to.

The next page is him, too: this time in profile, frowning slightly. The page after that is a full-body sketch from behind; he wouldn’t be sure it was him, if it weren’t for the hair and that old cropped jacket he’d left behind.

He flips through the next seven pages, until he reaches where Flint’s sketches end. Every sketch, loose or detailed, small or large, on the most recent ten pages, are of Silver: silver laughing; Silver dripping wet after swimming to the Warship; Silver pouting; Silver playing with his hair; Silver smirking; Silver climbing up the rigging…over and over again, Flint has spent his free time not only sketching him, but thinking of him.

Silver doesn’t know what to make of that. He closes the sketchbook, cheeks red and mind reeling, and only barely remembers to put the paints where he’d been asked to before slipping out of the cabin.

He doesn’t understand why Flint has fixated on him in his artistic pursuits, as he’s fairly certain the man can hardly stand him. Maybe, at most, he finds him aesthetically pleasing (something Silver would never have presumed before seeing that sketchbook), but that is a far cry from tolerating or even liking him.

Silver decides, for the time being, to put this aside. He’s got Vincent and Nicholas to deal with, and he can already tell that they’re going to be the cause of most of his troubles along this journey.

But when he spots Flint standing with Barlow and the Ashe girl on the upper deck, illuminated by the full moon, he can’t help but wish the captain had made a self-portrait. Silver can’t say he would have minded taking it; he has no artistic talent of his own, after all, and surely that would be the only way to find a likeness of Flint.

He thinks he can almost understand Flint’s urge to put pen to page, if only to preserve the memories of the ones who so define the world around him. There’s some small part of him that would have liked something by which to remember Flint, so that he might never forget that fierce look in his eyes, the sharpness of his brow, the jut of his cheekbones. He’s been nothing but vexing and confusing, yes, but James Flint is unlike anyone he’s ever known. 

Silver will think of him, and his violent, artist’s hands, long after he leaves this rotten Warship behind.

send me a number!

[dxrkblaze]

Give ME ALL FOR THAT MEME BC IM A HO N I LOVE UR WIRITNG U FUCK

this just in: ru is gay and I love her HHDGSHHDDL THAnk u sm homie I cri,,, ❤️❤️

1) of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?Hmm… probably all my colors? Like, there’s a lot I’d like to go back and change, but at the end of the day it was my baby for a good two plus years and there’s a lot of personal stuff sprinkled in there. It kinda shows my emotional progression throughout high school in the story, and while that’s def not why I wrote it, it’s cool to go back and look at it sometimes to see the things I used to say/think about. Plus it’s one of the only massive projects of mine that I’ve actually completed, lol.

Also I have a lot of love for amc just bc it’s so… different, I guess? Like, I’ve never really seen something like it fleshed out into a full-length story, especially not with silver and blaze. And the fact that it rlly touched several ppl and got them rlly into it… that makes me feel kinda accomplished when I’m not being a self-deprecating prick lmao. I rlly rlly wanted it to be my first fic to get to 100 reviews for a reason!

2) favorite tense (past/present/future)Definitely past, I tried present with the unforgiven and it just made it frustrating to write, lmao.

3) favorite POV (first/second/third/etc)I prefer writing in first person, actually. I think it simplifies things for both the writer and reader, and I’ve always found a lot more freedom to be creative when I write in first person.

4) what are some themes you love writing about?Lmao well, obviously romance is priority one for me, so most of my themes stem from that. I rlly love writing about class struggle tho, whether it’s someone low who’s aiming high or a noble who isn’t satisfied with such a high class. Morality also comes up a lot in my writing, I guess; tryna figure out what the right thing to do is, tryna figure out if this character actually did the best thing, all that good stuff!

5) what inspires you to write?Definitely music… sometimes I’ll stray from it and pick up some inspo from movies/stories/etc, but 99% of the time I’ll be listening to a song and suddenly come up w a fic idea from it lmao.

6) thoughts on critiqueI encourage it!! bc I think it’s the only real way to improve. Sometimes it can make me feel bad if I’m in one of those rlly shitty self-deprecation ruts, but still I usually get over it soon even when I’m like that. I know it’s for the better, and I appreciate everyone who’s ever been kind enough, and cared enough abt my writing to give me critique!

7) create a character on the spot���. NOW!UMMMM OKIE,,, what abt a snow leopard named Kyra… she likes to sit around n read n eat noodles… her main hobby other than reading is dancing. she’s v shy but she loves her close friends n BAM I just made her gay. She’s a lesbian, harold.

8) is there a character you love writing for the most? the least? why?Most - probably silver… his personality is always one I’ve gotten a lot of joy out of writing. He’s basically a walking contradiction, lmfao. He’s also pretty easy for me to self-project onto, idk why. Least - I’m gonna say amy for this one, just because it’s been hard for me to focus on more than one aspect of her personality and flesh all of it out. Plus amy is a somewhat overused character lol, I get a lot more fun out of writing blaze/tikal/others when I need a female role, even if it’s something simple

9) a passage from a WIPOh u kno I gotta dip into royalty au for this one 👀

–

It was nearly a fortnight before any word was received from King Pyrus. It came in the form of a small parcel addressed to Blaze, which held a note inside for her. The young princess jumped at the feet of the servant who had brought it in, and once it was lowered into her hands, she hurried to her chamber. Once there, she closed the door behind her and jumped on her bed, unable to contain her excitement. With a careful claw and an eager expression, she tore the parcel’s paper away. Before looking at what it contained, she snatched the note from her father, and brought it to her face. It read:

My Little Flame,

I am sorry I could not write to you sooner. I remain busy, but I finally began exploring, and I found something I think you will simply adore. It is a traditional robe (I believe it is called a kimono) from here in the Eastern Isles. It is just as beautiful as the land, and just as special as you are to I, my dear. We must make plans to bring you here one day, it astounds me each time.

Do not fret about the ongoings in the world, how ever much you have heard. Kiniti watches over us at all times, and she will ensure peace among all kinetics. Hopefully, I will depart in the coming few days, and we will see one another soon.

With love,Father Flame

Blaze, of course, merely skimmed over the second half of the note as a formality. She laid the message aside, and her jaw dropped once she held the kimono out. It was a beautiful shade of dark purple, with an equally enchanting design. Trails of dainty cherry blossoms sat on rugged branches, which climbed up either side of the robe. The silk seemed to melt between Blaze’s fingers; it was the softest material she had ever felt. She rubbed one of the sleeves against her cheek, and purred into it. When she turned the robe over, she gasped. A large, pink bow was already tied at the back, as if it had been made just for her. She slipped the kimono over her shoulders, and although the sleeves hung low over her arms, the length was just right. Blaze tied the pieces of ribbon at her waist, just as Pyrus had taught her, and words could never express how delighted she was with the gift. She could not wait to show her father once he returned.

As Blaze was fitting her tail through the bow on her back, Baxton entered the room. Whenever Pyrus was absent, it was usually Baxton who took up the king’s general duties. He signed letters, addressed the people, attended court; it kept him quite busy. The only responsibility he didn’t inherit was any control of he army - the sole post he would be familiar with. Quite the chore it was, but Baxton was always fond of his temporary sovereign role. At least in terms of the power he held, that is. In fact, Blaze assumed that he had been yelling at some servants not too long ago, judging by his flushed face.

The elder cat scratched his head. “Princess, did the king leave a letter?”

Blaze pointed to the note on her bed. Baxton scurried to it, and frowned as he glanced over the elegant handwriting. “Is this it?” he quizzed.

The princess nodded, and held her arms out with a smile. “Look, Baxi! Look at what father sent me!”

Blaze couldn’t quite tell what Baxton’s expression conveyed, but it was something between a smile and a scowl. The note crumpled in a quick motion from Baxton’s fist, and was thrown back onto the bed cover. Blaze didn’t think much of this as Baxton hurried out, and she walked to her mirror to admire the kimono again.

–

10) what are your strengths wrt writing?Hmm… I get a lot of ppl saying that I’m pretty eloquent when it comes to phrasing/word choices? I’m constantly tinkering with how things are said, even up until like 30 seconds before I publish smth lmao. I also like to think I never just string sentences together and leave it at that when I’m narrating, I pay a lot of attention to how different sentences/phrases flow together.

11) what are your weaknesses wrt writing?My main weakness would probably be going overboard on all the little things, like how a sentence sounds or flows and stuff like that. I end up being a perfectionist with it, and sometimes when I’m crafting/changing phrases around, I end up with a sentence that kinda drags on or tries to do too much.

12) what’s your favorite place for writing resources?Tumblr’s pretty good for me, actually. I rarely ever seek out resources, but I do reblog a lot of them that come to me here and they’ve been very useful to me in the past.

13) who are your favorite writers?Ok first off binch u@aurora-boring-alis (FF: aurora-boring-alis) Then my other peeps who also make the quality goodness™™ I can’t get enough of (some fanfic accounts more active than others)@maliwarm (FF: biteworsethanbark) @lordoftheghostking28 (FF: lordoftheghostking28) @weezernaut (FF: space mercutio)@ebachan (wattpad: witto150)

[mcndozaas-blog]

☾ —— have you met kaden mendoza, the thirty year old male that looks a lot like bob morley? he has been in the syndicate as a robber for fourteen years now and is known around as the cataclysmic, because he is cunning & adventurous, as well as hedonistic & cocky. not just a gang banger, reaper is also a drug dealer.

*uberhaxornova voice* alright helLO ( watch, no one else knows who that is ) its me, ur resident trash qeen & angst n pain lover, caitlyn. i’m 23 and i live in cst so like ?? yeah hi hello how are ya’ll ?? this is my baby kaden that’s actually ?? a hot ass mess lmao ?? under the cut is his long as hECK bio and stats because... im the most extra binch you’ll ever meet and i ramble my ass off so if u make it through that bio ?? bless ur frickin heart? i’m so ridiculously excited to be here as well so that made my rambling worse ?? just like it is right now jfc okay i’ll stop. anywHO i’ve got a basic af list of wanted connections for him right HERE & his bio page right HERE. if you wanna plot w this hot ass mess, just like this or hop into my IMs bc i cannot wait to plot with all ya’ll.

ps: this is totally queued because i am currently at work ( i get off @ 8 my time ) so if i don’t reply to your IMs straight away, that’s why!!  

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of death, murder ( ??? ), gang/cartel related things, alcohol, drugs  & guns.

past.

kaden james mendoza, you were born into a life money, power and crime. your father being the most powerful cartel leader that new york had seen in over thirty years, meaning that anything and everything illegal that happened in and out of your hometown had your dad’s last name and extremely reliable reputation on it. but he wasn’t just that person, the harsh, cruel and brutal person that the people who worked for him were lead to believe. quite the opposite, really. he was kind to you and your mother, gave you both everything you could ever ask for and made sure that both of you were safe. you never knew what it was like to struggle, never had to because everything was handed to you on a silver platter, and you loved every single second of it. you had a thing for being at the top of the social ladder even at that age, meaning that you never understood that there was a life outside of the sliver-lined one you had because you never in your life believed you’d see the day where anything in your life changed. you had that ‘happy family’ people talk about wanting all the time and you thought that no one could touch you or them because your father had everything sorted out.

not until you turned nine, that’s when all hell broke loose.

your father had gotten old, people were constantly claiming he was weak or that he was ‘too soft’ to be the leader anymore, and so he went out and tried to prove that he wasn’t. set up a meeting with someone he’d found to be a rat in his crew, the guy constantly running back and forth from one cartel to the other and your father wanted to put an end to it, while proving that he still had what it took to be the leader. but what he hadn’t expected was for the mutiny to happen, for people to tired of his leadership, for them to someone who wasn’t ‘growing soft’ ways. which meant there was talk of his plan to take the guy out far before the meeting had ever been set up in the first place. meaning that the one person who your father tried to keep in the dark about it ended up finding out.. and needless to say, his ‘fool proof’ plan failed. the meeting was compromised and the other male was able to sneak in his own weapon of choice, a dagger. one that found your father’s heart just before he was about to do the same to the other. but you didn’t know he died, not at all. the people around you, the people that betrayed your father lied to your mother, lied to you. made up this grand story about how he just decided to leave new york, how he decided he wanted to start a new life and leave everything and everyone about the old on behind. a lie that would come back to bite all of them in the ass eventually. a lie that every single one of them would regret for the rest of their lives.

your mother never fully believed the lies, but went along with them to ‘keep you safe’, to shield you from the real truth. in order to do that, she downed bottle after bottle of a liquid you’d been told to avoid because it was only for adults, knowing her behavior would drastically change with each swig she took. sure, she never got mean, never got violent and for that you were grateful. but she did get distant, would lock herself in her room and stay there for days, refusing to come out even for you. kaden, you had no idea why she was doing this, all you knew what that you hated every second of it, wanting to do whatever it took to make sure she was happy again. the only thing you could think of that used to make her happy was your father or the material things he used to buy for her every single day before he came home. sometimes it was flowers, other times it was jewelry, it all depended on just how long he was out doing ‘business’ for. but you didn’t have any money to your name, not really at least. yes, your father made tons of money doing what he did, but all of that went to your mother and she seemed to be blowing all of it on booze and cigarettes which meant you had to figure out a way to get them on your own.

you were at one of your friends’ house when you learned that you had quite the knack for all things technology related, using your laptop to hack into random websites, changing small things here and there that almost went unnoticed most of the time. but you wanted more than that, you’d had a taste of it and you craved more, so you logged into your father’s bank account one day and realized that every single member of the cartel he’d ran for years was tied to that account, that you could hack into any one of their accounts whenever you pleased. so you did, taking small bits of their money and depositing it directly into your own bank account. it wasn’t much at first, a hundred here and there after you’d gotten everyone’s information, but after a while, the bit you started to take wasn’t enough, you wanted more and you knew you could take it, so you upped the total, hitting the hundred thousands by the time you were done. however, your lucky streak ended when one of the cartel members noticed their account had quite the chunk missing out of it, all of them quickly pinning it all on your mother as they figured it was some sort of ‘revenge’ for your father… even though they assumed you both still bought into the lies they told you about him. after hearing multiple people screaming and yelling at your mother to give the money back, you fessed up, told them it was you who’d taken the money and you explained why. but your surprise, you weren’t the one reprimanded for your actions. instead, your mother put you to work, giving you stack after stack of files that had to do with the disappearance of your father, wanting you to uncover the truth behind the lies.. wanting you to find anything that had to do with him.

but that wasn’t even enough for you, not even at the age of thirteen. you need more, some gratification other than the praise of your mother and one night you found out just how to get it.. all while being able to expose and exploit some rather nasty individuals. that became your new form of income, finding out people’s dirty laundry only to hold it over their heads. you blackmailed people and you made good money from it. money you kept because you’d always remembered your father talking about how important money was when it came to his line of business. one you found yourself following, even if you couldn’t see that quite yet. you though you were just working for your mother to help you both find the truth about your father and you left it at that, but all the while the members of his cartel whispered about your talents, knew that you’d be more than likely to take the whole operation out from underneath your mother’s feet one day. but you weren’t just good at hacking into things, no. you could pick up new languages like it was as easy at breathing, able to talk to multiple people who would make your family name even bigger than it already was in their native tongues, meaning you quickly overruled your mother when it came to where you wanted the cartel to go. however, that wasn’t for you.. you liked what you were doing when it came to exposing bad people to the world, all while keeping your families dirty laundry buried deep within encrypted codes that only you knew how to unlock.

kaden, you should have known that wouldn’t be the way things worked for long. you liked power, you liked money and you loved the gratification that came from doing illegal things. so you found another way to gain power and respect, all thanks to a group of kids that your mother would have shamed you for hanging out with. but you didn’t care, not anymore, being with them gave you freedom, something you hadn’t had your entire life and they had you wrapped around their manipulative fingers faster than you could blink an eye. you were so naive before you met them, and they called you out on it, bet you wouldn’t show up at one of their parties one night because they knew it’d get under your skin and you’d do anything to prove them wrong. so did, you went, you snuck out of the house and everyone was pleasantly surprised to see you. not long after you got there, they invited you to a basement, showing you that there was another life within the walls. a life that didn’t involve following every order you’re given without question. you also figure out that there’s a perfect way to let out the anger set deep within you and you begin to participate in boxing matches. a “fight club” of sorts, really. most of the people there were in it for the money, but not you. you could just take your father’s card and get whatever you wanted, so you didn’t need or want the money. no, you wanted the power you felt after you won, the praise that filled your ears for the first time in your life was beyond intoxicating and you couldn’t get enough of it. things started going in a circle for you after that night, but you never wanted it to change. you’d get up, go to school, come home and do your homework, pretend that you were sleeping and then you were out the door, dressed in all black as you made your way to the next basement to ultimately win the fight you were signed up for.

the rebellious streak you found yourself on didn’t end with the boxing matches, though. you were intoxicated from the feeling you felt and it started to consume you. you wanted to find more ways to give you that feeling and you weren’t going to stop until you found them. this lead to you meeting more people like you, more people who wanted to find some form of power that didn’t come from their family names. you ended up finding your safe haven in the most unsafe way you could have. you started drinking at a very young age, doing other illegal substances if they were offered. not to mention the fact that the boys in your little ring of friends would always bring girls to your fights. you’d never even really thought about girls until one day one of the ones your best friend brought with him decided to hang all over you after you’d won yet another fight. it sent your confidence soaring and you loved it. but you didn’t like the idea of just being with one specific person, it was to ‘normal’ for you. you felt like if you were to go steady with one person, you’d turn out to be far too normal and well, you didn’t like that thought one bit. so you ended up breaking that girls heart by sleeping with another, and then another after that. yet another horrible cycle you didn’t seem to want to break. a cycle you let rule your world, all while taking money from unsuspecting people’s bank accounts to line your pockets. how’d you end up becoming just like your father in his younger years? a question heard your mother mumble to herself on evening, but chose to ignore because you had it all, money, power, reputation, girls, alcohol.. it was all at your fingertips and you weren’t letting that go.

however, as much as you loved what you were doing, you decided to go back to your roots when it came to hacking. to go back and find people who were doing wrong things and expose them, just because you figured that if the world was paying attention to those people, they’d turn a blind eye to all the illegal things you seemed to be getting yourself into. it sounded good in your head, and you wanted to push yourself past where you’d been before, to go for someone with more power than those you were hacking into, for someone who had more power than you did, and so you did. you couldn’t believe that you found hacking into the secretary of state’s email address to be easy, but you did. it only took you one red bull, a bag of popcorn and three hours to find out that even the 'good’ guys weren’t as good as they let the cameras believe. something that made you smirk to yourself because it just meant that what you were doing wasn’t that bad at all. you now new that the secretary of state was having an affair on his wife, gambling state money and taking money from charity funds for himself. things you figured that new york deserved to know and with few mouse clicks later and all of those emails were sent to cnn. causing you to instantly became the talk of the town, they wrote articles about you while using the codename 'ph4n70m’ which stood for phantom, something you considered yourself to be as you’d lived in the shadows for most of your life anyways. they had you on the top stories in news broadcasting, your codename was trending on twitter and you were the ticket item for months as everyone tried to figure out who you were, and you absolutely loved the feeling, loved knowing that no matter what, you were being talked about, all while keeping your identity, your mother’s identity and your father’s business off the radar. it was like this new game for you, finding more dangerous things to hack into all while doing random odd-jobs for friends and fellow students for some money on the side. this was it, the life that you wanted, a life that gave you everything your father had.

during your school years, you’d come home and instantly sit down on your computer, finding the next big thing that would continue to keep your codename alive, to keep you the m moment. but after a while, that began to die down too and you knew you needed something that would get you noticed, something that would get you thrown in jail for the rest of your life if you were caught. so you decided to attempt to hack into one of the most secure buildings in the united states: the pentagon. you didn’t even really have a reason, and honestly? you didn’t need one, but you were rather nosy and wanted to see if you could uncover any more dirty laundry. much to your surprise and disappointment, you didn’t find anything that was worth your time. a few people had been discharged for a few things, but nothing was news worthy. so you left it alone and went back to exposing people who had done things that would get you that fifteen minutes of fame all over again. but that wasn’t enough, so you decided to make a move you never thought you would. you took over for your mother, told her you were old enough ( you were eighteen, which meant you were legal, so you figured why not ), told her that she didn’t need the burden of the business on her shoulders anymore and that you’d take over from there. but what you didn’t tell her was that you planned on getting back at every single person that’d done your father wrong in the process. you weren’t a voilent person, you took your anger out in your boxing matches, so you knew you weren’t going to hurt anyone even though it had crossed your mind a few times. no, instead you decided to do what you were best at, hacking into all of their accounts and linking them to a cartel that’d try to plant it’s roots in your territory, a cartel that you quickly had exposed to the police via a few emails under the 'ph4n70m’ alias. two birds with one stone, why not go for it? but your mother didn’t approve of you basically firing all of your men. you couldn’t do this alone, you knew that, but you sure ass hell didn’t want backstabbers working for you. something she needed to understand, something you proved to her by showing everything you’d found years ago about the mutiny.

but things didn’t stay that way and you found out that life can change in the blink of an eye. you’d met someone in school, someone who saw past the wall you kept up around your heart, someone you found yourself falling for. it was young love, yes, but it was unlike any feeling you’d ever had. the people around you didn’t find that as a smart move, though, they started calling you weak, whipped and a million other things that got under your skin because you’d learned that your father had something very similar to this situation happen to him. however, you knew the outcome wouldn’t be the same, and you showed that by cracking down on people who were slacking and making sure everything was run just as smoothly as it could be, all while still having that person what every one called you weak for falling for, showing them that they were wrong. showing them that you could do both and still be the 'heartless asshole’ you needed to be when it was necessary. however, you should have paid attention to the people around you that weren’t your employees, because there was a storm brewing that you never thought would hit so close to home. there was a rival cartel trying to weave their way into new york, and they’d been doing their research on you. knowing that the only way to get to you was through the one person who had gotten past your wall. you woke up to a text message from an unknown number telling you that you had twenty-four hours to get the hell out of new york or everything you knew and cared about would be burnt to the ground.

what other choice did you have but to obey? if they’d threatened you, it would have been find, you would have rolled your eyes and moved on. but they’d attached photos of you and her strolling down the streets, hand in hand along with your address and hers. so you made the hardest choice you would have to make in your life, you packed up everything and left. leaving notes for your friends and her with your mother, telling her to give them out because you’d made the choice to move and get out on your own. she didn’t understand that, though, you were only fifteen and couldn’t actually get a job anywhere, you couldn’t drive, yet you were packed up and had a plane ticket for a town in indiana that you’d never even heard of before, but it was so off the radar that you figured it’d be the best bet. you had to get away, had to start all over. but that was okay with you. you knew that you could manage, you knew you’d be able to figure something out whenever you got there. yes, it’d be hard, but you were strong and you knew that.

however, what you didn’t expect was to find a lifestyle there that wasn’t all that different from the one you’d lived in new york. you’d been pick-pocketing people for money to afford a shitty hotel room, one that you now called your home when someone saw you tricking someone else. whenever the person approached you, you fully expected them to call you out and put you under citizen’s arrest, but to your surprise, they offered you a job. it wasn’t much at first, you’d go to their hq and clean up and never asked questions about what in the hell they were doing because honestly? you had a general idea and you wanted in, no matter what it was they were actually doing. you found out when someone came in with a duffel bag full of money, something that made your heart start pumping once again. you hadn’t seen that much money since you’d been the “leader” of your father’s business, so you knew with every fiber of your being that you needed to be more hands on, that you needed to be involved in the heists they set up.

to their surprise, you were good with guns, good with violence. good with not showing emotions other than anger. that you could become a really good asset for them. so began your 'new’ life. you became a robber, meaning you became more hands on than you ever thought you would have been. and you loved every single second of it. you had power, but the focus wasn’t just on you. you had other people you were working with and for once, you were okay with working with others. they became your family, you found yourself realizing that year after year that went by, you’d do anything for them. kaden, you found a life for yourself that not only made you happy because you were able to do what you wanted to do, but you found people who loved it just as much, people you could trust your life with, people who you found yourself actually caring for. more so than you’d ever felt that for anyone. but there was that small part of you that thought you needed more, so more was what you went for and not long after that, you found yourself falling back into the old habits of dealing drugs. you started small at first, dealing nothing but weed, but a year after that you were back to selling everything you’d been selling back in new york and for the first time in your life, you were content. this was the life you’d wanted. power without being a 'leader’, fun without worrying about the consequences.. you had it all, and you were so damn happy.

present.

you’ve lived that life for fourteen years now, and there isn’t a damn thing you’d change about it, nor do you see yourself stopping any time soon. you have it all, all while keeping yourself so far off the radar that people from your past couldn’t find you even if they tried. not to mention the fact you’re able to do whatever you want with your money, spending it on alcohol, drugs, cars, shoes, clothes, clubs, bars and women. things that you’d had back in new york, sure.. but here? here it was different. you were able to do all of the things you wanted to do without having to worry about any of your choices effecting an entire business. yes, you made mistakes, some that were hard to fix or cover up, but they were covered up in the long run so that took the weight off of your shoulders. of course, you have to be careful with how you act in public, but you’d always been good at that anyways so that was as easy as breathing in your honest opinion. what still troubles you from time to time is the fact that you have to let people in, that the people around you know far more about you than you ever thought they would have fourteen years ago. that’s hard, yes, and you struggle with it, slipping back into your 'heartless asshole’ reputation you had back in new york far more often than not. but you’re sure the people around you know that you can’t help it, that it’s just how you are.. and that you don’t mean to offend anyone with your actions or words. or at least you hope so, because you’d actually do care about them. they’ve become closer to you than your old friends or family. you also still have your side job of dealing drugs to people around monroe, and you’re doing everything you can to keep both of your jobs going as smoothly as possibly, all while still living the way you want to live.

however, even though you keep your jobs and the syndicate on the down low and in the shadows, you have a tendency to flaunt your money whenever possible, something that makes your mother roll her eyes because she didn’t raise you to be 'pretentious, arrogant and vain’ but you don’t mind because at the end of the day, she still loves you with all of her heart. something that you cherish with every fiber of your being, something that you actually allow yourself to feel because you’ve learned that in your line of business, bottling up every emotion you’ve got works far better than letting them all out. which also means that you still tend to sleep around, a habit you couldn’t seem to break and honestly? it’s probably better that way, or at least that’s what you tell yourself all the time. 'it would be far too dangerous to involve someone in your life for more than just a hook up.’ it’s a plausible excuse, and you’ve never led someone on, making them believe you were looking for more than just that.. so you don’t really see an issue with it. as long as it’s not hurting anyone else, why should you stop? you tell yourself that far too often, any time you come home with a different person, any time you go out and party as if you’ve just turned twenty-one. but what you don’t realize is your friends are concerned about you. they see through the lies when you tell them 'you’re fine’ or 'i got plenty of sleep’, but they never call you out on it because they’re worried their jobs would be at risk if they did. that’s the person you’ve become, kaden. someone who drinks too often, someone who doesn’t get enough sleep.. or at all because of just how busy juggling two lives is. but you’re determined to go on living the life that you want to live, acting the way you want to act because in your mind you’ve earned every second of it. which, you might have, but that doesn’t stop you from being a human being. someone who needs rest, someone who needs to stop juggling everything, someone who needs to stop thinking he has to do everything on his own. but hey, it’s your life, you’ll ignore most people whenever they try to tell you how to live your life because you’re stubborn, just like your father.. someone who would be so proud of you for picking up his legacy and making the 'family business’ grow to heights he never could have done, and that’s all that matters to you. you’ve become the man he wanted you to be from the moment you were born, and that might not be the best thing in the world due to the fact you have to live your life so shut off from everyone else. you’re lonely, kaden, and that’s not something you can fix by partying, hooking up with other people or running businesses. you need to find a way to balance everything in your life.

personality.

hides behind a wall of sarcasm, cockiness, anger and lust.

doesn’t really care to get to know people and had a tendency to push people away before they get too close to him due to his job.

wears glasses to read and mess w computers, but hates them a lot and probably won’t wear them if people are around.

loves suits & everything expensive.. will probably look like he just came out of a photo shoot like 8 times outta 10 ??

however, he rocks jeans, v-necks, shorts, sweats, leather jackets and anything that makes him look like your typical fuckboi jock?? it’s kinda his aesthetic.

is …. stubborn as hell and refuses to ask for help with anything.

has a motorcycle and it’s his baby.. has a few cars too bc tbh he likes to flaunt his money

a hot mess

loves halloween so much?? even though it’s his birthday?? he gets so hype for that holiday it’s unreal.

fluent in a lot of languages, picked them up so that he didn’t need translators at meetings with potential business partners.

lowkey worried that people will figure out that he’s not the complete asshole role that he plays on a daily basis and is actually a very hurt person bc if people started realizing that, he’d have to start feeling again and tbh, he don’t wanna do that.

is the biggest flirt you will ever meet??

will try to get everyone to go to bars n parties with him because that’s his life in a nutshell.

hella nerd on the inside though like owns so many comic books, loves to play video games, read books, write songs & all that jazz.

super, super intelligent. had he not gone into the life he did, he’d probably be working for nasa or something idk.

drinks like every night?? it’s a problem tbh.

he cares… god he cares so much about people and the world but he pretends to hate everything because it’s easier than letting people in.

full of horrible and cheesy pick up lines and jokes and frequently texts people said pick up lines and jokes.

owns a book that is full of nothing but blank pages and keeps it on his coffee table because he 'relates’ to it.

is a highkey hoe but he keeps it on the dl

speaking of….. might be a highkey dom yikes

super into fitness as it’s a way to keep him away from drinking every evening, even if that doesn’t actually work ??

loves boxing so much and can be seen at the gym almost every night..

also has bruised knuckles 24/7 because of it as it’s a way to take out his aggression and feelings out on a punching bag??

actually super loyal and caring once you’re able to see get past his wall??

which is really hard to do due to his job but if u do it he’ll cherish u.

is one of those people who’s instagram feed is nothing but pictures of his dogs and food.

has a bad habit of smoking whenever he’s stressed out or drunk.

will also talk about his dogs more often than he talks about his life.

highkey into cuddling and all the cute shit like that but would literally never tell a soul because then they’d see that he isn’t such a hardass.

is a burnt cupcake who has really good intentions but has horrible execution skills.

statistics.

full name: kaden james mendoza.

nickname(s): kade, reaper, k or m, ph4n70m ( phantom. ).

age: thirty.

date of birth: october 31st.

zodiac sign: scorpio.

place of birth: new york city, new york.

gender: cis-male.

sexual orientation: bisexual.

romantic orientation: bisexual.

religion: n/a.

occupation: robber / drug dealer.

language(s) spoken: english, french, spanish, welsh, russian, korean, japanese, italian, romanian, greek, gaelic and bulgarian.

accent: american.

physical appearance.

face claim: bob morley.

hair color: brown.

eye color: brown.

height: 6′ 1″.

weight: 225 lbs.

build: athletic.

personality / traits.

label: the cataclysmic.

positive traits: cunning, adventurous, intelligent, charming & brave.

negative traits: hedonistic, cocky, impulsive, flirtatious & closed off.

fears: claustrophobia.

hobbies: playing video games, reading books / comics, boxing, pool, going to sports events, soccer, football, going to the gym, playing guitar, playing piano, cooking, hiking, camping, fishing, golf.

quirks: belives in karma, fights for animal rights, fights for gender equality, fights for human rights, fights for marriage equality, wears mismatched socks ( sometimes ), counts stairs, plays with fire, plays a musical instrument, boxes, enjoys nature, tells the truth / can be brutally honest, uses bad puns whenever possible.

likes: rain, thunderstorms, cars, shoes, boxing, sports, nighttime, fall, traveling, swimming, cooking, art, astronomy, greek history, food, animals, movie marathons, comic books.

dislikes: seafood, heat, bad traffic, being bossed around.

family

father: gideon james mendoza. ( deceased. )

mother: lindsey rose williams-mendoza. ( living. )

siblings: a younger sister ( living. )

pets: two siberian huskies named balto and steele.

financial status: upper class.

tests.

myers-briggs: estp-a

enneagram: type 8 ( the challenger. )

moral alignment: lawful evil. ( the dominator. )

temperament: choleric.

hogwarts house: slytherin.