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rampagingfanfictioner14 · 25 days ago

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relativity falls, but... (Part 3)

And then we come to the crux of the matter. What happens next?

Well, Bill makes good on his promise and talks to Candy and Soos. He'd like to limit the number of people involved in this project, but he needs Soos's hands and Candy's brain to make this whole thing work, so he's just going to have to put up with it.

Candy excitedly accepts the proposal, not even thinking twice. Sure, Mason sounds a bit weird, but maybe he's just caught a cold or something. She's a curious person at heart, and a brilliant one too. After college, she'd moved away from Gravity Falls to somewhere in California, selling some junk like personal computers and whatnot. Still, at "Mason's" insistence, she drops everything and moves back to her hometown anyway, already thinking about all the discoveries they could make through such an ambitious project.

Soos... doesn't. He apologizes, but he's got family to take care of now, and he can't dedicate himself to the project like asked. Bill is angry by the refusal and almost starts shouting at him, but eventually settles on slamming the phone down and forcing himself to think that it's better this way anyway. That fat oaf wasn't good for much other than his strength. He'd make do somehow.

The main task was drafting the equations for the portal. The thinking. It required brains, not brawn.

The actual portal construction was a problem for later, he decides. This Candy better be as smart as Mason had made her sound.

...And yep, she definitely is. Her relationship with the anxiety-ridden Mason is... similar to Ford and Fiddleford, but not quite. Mason's adventurous, very much so --- but whenever she tags along he's quieter than usual, almost always worrying over something or the other, unable to focus (a side-effect of Mabel leaving; his anxiety roams unchecked and his social awkwardness is worse than ever without her to be his rock).

---Unless he sees something cool. Then he's bolting off towards it with that journal of his, and leaving Candy in the dust.

As they work, they form a close friendship. It's always been there since their college days, really, but... Candy likes Mason, for all his quirks. Maybe likes him a little too much.

But Mason is far too distracted by Bill. Maybe in some other time, if they'd done this a year or so ago, they could've been something more. It's too late now. He's not always even there. He tries to keep up with Candy, but his main concern is the portal, and besides, Mason doesn't like social interactions much anyway.

He scrawls his notes in his journals to keep records of his findings, and spends all of his free time either with Bill, drawing up equations, or with Candy, poring over paradigm theory and other complicated jargon. Sometimes he drifts off and unconsciously allows Bill to take over, waking up to fully completed drawings and a new couple of stacks of equations to check.

His obsession with that portal eventually gets quite tiring to deal with, honestly. It's like their college days all over again. The one thing that Candy doesn't appreciate is having to constantly nag at the man to eat or drink something. Did he not feel his body shutting down? At this rate, he was going to waste away.

It's a pretty nice life, though, ignoring Mason's occasional, inexplicable "personality switches" (she can't think of anything else that would make him act so strange and off-putting; she'd searched the whole house for any evidence of drugs but never found any. Either Mason's upped his hiding game, or he's gone and developed some mental illness, but she doesn't have enough evidence for that and she's not going to confront him while having no proof).

She doesn't understand in time. The time comes to test the portal, and everything goes wrong.

Brief summary, 'cuz I can't be bothered writing it all out:

Candy gets chucked through the portal (whether that be because of canon reasons or some other universe-specific one is up for grabs).

Mason manages to pull her back, but she's knocked completely off-kilter; shellshocked and terrified; stuttering, spewing gibberish, before abruptly running away from the house and quitting on the spot.

Mason's... confused. He realizes that he was being insensitive by demanding to know what she'd seen through the portal, but surely it wasn't anything too bad, right? Bill told him so. He reaches out to her after a few days of radio silence, but she brushes him off, almost seeming to have forgotten the whole thing entirely. This makes him kinda angry. Why was she being so dismissive when it was clear she'd something terrible? Why wouldn't she tell him? He goes to the only friend he has left, Bill, for answers.

Bill convinces Mason that Candy's just another betrayer, like Mabel, taking advantage of him. Still, Mason can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Bill tells him to focus on the portal. It was his only priority.

Final tweaks to the portal are made. Mason realizes that Candy's starting some sort of cult, having disregarded his advice to get rid of her memory gun, running around town and erasing the memories of everyone who'd seen something strange.

That does it. He knows something's wrong. Candy never acted like this. There was something terrible behind that portal and he needed to have a very serious chat with Bill.

And whatdya know, surprise surprise, Bill's a professional backstabber in disguise. Womp womp, Mason, his monsters are gonna invade your dimension, and it's all because of you! Because you trusted the wrong person... again.

Mason goes full panic-mode. Like Ford, but worse, because he's Mason, and when he gets paranoid, he gets paranoid. He locks the doors and buys like fifty different deadbolts. He locks the windows and the skylight and even the entrance to the roof, and spends his nights in the basement still, huddled up in the darkest, most hidden corner with only a lamp to keep him company. Every shadow makes him flinch, every sound as loud as a gunshot in the silence. Every time he accidentally drifts off he wakes with like a dozen serious injuries and angry, bloody scratches and scribbles on the walls from Bill's unsuccessful attempts to break into the retinal-scanner protected portal room.

Mason's not in a good place. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

---

My brainworms have taken a break for now so I'll have to sum up the next plot points:

Mabel receives a postcard from Mason, agonizes over it for a minute or so before promptly dropping everything and rushing to Gravity Falls.

Mason doesn't open the door, too paranoid to move from his spot in the basement. Using a secret code from their childhood, he'd encoded the instructions on how to get to him, hoping that Mabel would remember (and besides, the man's running on about ten shots of caffeine and hasn't slept in over a month; cut him some slack --- he's definitely not thinking clearly).

Thankfully, the universe aligns properly and Mabel does remember the code, hurrying down to the basement and instantly tripping an alarm, about three traps, and injures her wrist.

Mason's wild eyes meet hers. The estranged twins exchange a brief moment of absolute, utter shock: Mason not having expected Mabel to actually turn up, and Mabel not having expected her brother to look like a dead man walking.

Same stuff as canon basically happens: Mabel and Mason haven't learned to communicate well due to their less than ideal childhood, and both of them are tired, traumatized, and tactless with their words. A fight happens: although with a lot more hair-pulling, slapping, and shouting than punches.

Mason doesn't believe he's better than Mabel, so there's no talk about doing "the first worthwhile thing" in her life and whatnot. But still, there are some pretty damn hurtful words thrown about. Mabel gets branded by the symbol next to the control panel. Mason almost dies from sheer exhaustion.

It doesn't really matter, though. In the end, the results are the same. Mason is still thrown through the portal and his first journal still ends up in Mabel's hands, the constellation shimmering on the cover almost tauntingly; the only real thing she had left of her brother.

At first, she almost doesn't believe it. She waits for him to return, frozen, her shoulder burning as the brand sizzled on her skin. Then reality sinks in, and she's horrified. Had... Had she just killed her twin?

Then that famous determination sparks. Mabel vows to bring Mason back home, even if it's the last thing she does. Even if what's left is only a few specks of dust, even if he hates her for it. She's a terrible person, she knows, and Mason's got every right to despise her. But the thought of him asking her to just leave, like she couldn't care less about him... Well. Frankly, the mere idea pissed her off.

She stays at Mason's house, unwilling to leave until she finishes her mission. And over time, she begins to recollect more details that she'd missed in her blind anger. She remembers Mason's distraught face, the dark liquid (blood?) trailing down his right eye, his pale skin. Something terrible had happened to her brother, she thinks with a rough swallow, looking down at the crimson staining the bathroom, red constellations etched almost mockingly in the unkept place. Something absolutely terrible. Horrible. Unspeakable.

She knows she needs food to continue her mission. Restarting the house's water and electricity would be nice too. And someone needed to pay off the mortgage. So she does what she does best: puts on a show.

The Dream House (this universe's Mystery Shack) begins as a simple Sparkle Hut. Something nice, something pretty, something that would catch the eye of wandering tourists or townspeople. But mere glitter isn't enough. She starts flipping through her brother's journal and complies a mismatched assortment of various creatures, creating a sleepy, almost hypnotic atmosphere to the shack--- and what better name for it than the Dream House?

>>>And that's it, peeps. My version of relativity falls is over (at least, the backstory part). I've speedran this whole thing over an hour, so some details are still rough --- but tell me what you think! It's funny that this whole thing was sparked by a lil conversation between me and my friend.

In short, Mabel and Dipper are not perfect twins. I think people underestimate just how much their decisions and experiences and attitudes was shaped by their summer in Gravity Falls. Remember, Stan and Ford were thick as thieves until they became like, 15 or something. A lot can change after you enter high school, especially when you've got your parents arguing 24/7 and terrible communication skills. Mabel and Dipper are not going to hug and be nice to each other after thirty years apart --- thirty years to stew in anger and regret and pain and sadness. They're not going to be as close as they were as kids, and that's okay. Don't be afraid to give them flaws in this au. It's absolutely wonderful to explore :)

---Thank you for reading.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5(prev)

#gravity falls #relativity falls au #my take on relativity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #mystery twins #atots rewrite #the backstory of what will eventually become a series of fics in this universe :)#might be a lil ooc #will come back and fix some stuff later #thanks for reading!

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hughiecampbelle · 2 years ago

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Survivor's Guilt (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)

Character/s: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan

Word Count: 1,356

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: I had these thoughts after my dad died, I still do, so I thought I'd put it into writing. It was how I found out, like the show, and it felt like a punch in the gut. I could not stop crying watching that episode. It only seemed fitting that Baby Roy would feel the same. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Was there anything you could have done differently? Was there anything you could have said to make it better? That day plays on loop in your head, before your eyes. In fragments. Broken pieces. Bits and pieces of conversation, of crying, then nothing. Others talking around you, but you were in a daze. It hadn’t sunk in then. The reality, the forever of it. It still doesn’t seem real. Someone holding you. Panic on the phone, incoherence, someone is saying something, but you’re not understanding. It isn’t making any sense. Someone screams, you think, but that detail is fuzzy. You think you imagined that part. They wanted you to come along, but you wouldn’t move, you couldn’t. Hands on you, guiding up on your feet, out the door. Your brother beside you. Your sister taking the front, being asked to say what no one else can. She’s crying. When was the last time you saw her cry? Forever ago. She tells him. You turn away, not wanting to see his reaction. Arms around you, holding you, all of this unreal. You say something. You still don’t know what, but it comes out in a choke. What had you said on the phone? Does it matter? You’re in a new room. People are apologizing. Connor doesn’t leave your side. He speaks softly, saying nice things, but you’re so cold. You’re cold and scared and you want to wake up from this terrible day. You want to wake up and laugh and call him because he’ll be there soon. He said he would. But he’s not. You’re in shock. Its the only reason you’re still breathing. Shock is saving you.

You wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He’s in your dreams again, but they feel more like nightmares. You’re scared to see him, to hear him, to hear his laugh. You fear if you hear him and see him then you’ll never want to wake up. Whatever your relationship was like before, it doesn’t matter. All those messy years, years you spent angry at him, it all feels like a waste. Selfishly, you want that time back. Selfishly, you want the world to stop. You want the sun to stop rising and setting. You want the galaxy to freeze in the moment you found out. If your life had to stop, then you want everyone to suffer with you. It’s not fair that they’re smiling, laughing, enjoying themselves. It’s not fair that others got so much more time with him than you did. It’s not fair that they expect you to keep going like you’re not half-dead. There is a line in the sand, a Before and an After. Everything in your life can be split between this. Before and After. You want to go in the Before, for just a second longer. You want to breathe the air of Before, you want to see him again in the flesh, you want to hear his voice, you want to crawl back in time and settle in where no one will ever find you, but you can’t. There’s no going back. You’re trapped in the After for the rest of your life, for the rest of time. It is lonely here. It is quiet here. Nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat, your own cries. He’ll never know this version of you, any other version of you. Whatever you do, whatever you accomplish, he won’t be there to see it. He won’t know. He never will. These thoughts consume you. They overtake your mind until you can’t breathe, sobbing, choking, screaming.

If he can’t sleep in a bed, why should you? If he can’t live, why should you? They call. When they can’t call, when you don’t take their calls, they visit. You’ve been sleeping on the floor for a while. It helps. It makes you feel small, in control. If he can’t eat then why should you? If he can’t be here, what’s keeping you? There are pillows and blankets stacked on the floor, between the bed and the wall. You stay in that spot more often than not. They come by. Sometimes they are gentle. Connor helps with laundry, he makes sure you’re eating, sleeping, showering. He is easy. He is kind. He understand that your grief is all-consuming. Sometimes they are not. Shiv is angry. Angry at him, angry at you, ordering you to get off the floor, to pick up the pieces of your life, and carry on like the rest of them. She wishes she could rot, but she can’t. There are important things and important people looking to her for guidance. It doesn’t matter what she says, you feel like you’re under water. You feel like you’re the only one drowning and everyone is watching. Roman does his best to coax you from your cocoon, but he can’t get you to go out, to get dressed. Hes not sure how to help, what to do. In the end he tucks you in on the couch, figuring its better than the floor, calling Kendall for guidance. You don’t move when he’s around, he doesn’t expect you to. He just wants to talk. Talk about Dad, his death, processing things by talking, hearing it come from his own mouth. You want to push him away, just another reminder, but he’s trying to help, so you must be kind. He pats your head. He throws another blanket on top of you. He has to go. They all do. They’re helpless in this, with you. Scared of what you’ll do, what you’ll try.

When you can pick yourself up again, when you can get dressed and make it to the office, everything is a reminder. Not just his name or his desk, but everything, everyone. It enrages you, the thought they they got together and talked about it and moved on like it was nothing, like your father wasn’t dead. Your eyes were red and watery, they could all see it. They say nothing. You’ve been named sensitive, implosive, delicate. They are to leave you to do what you want, per your siblings orders. Each of them checks on you through the morning, the afternoon, all day you spend at his desk. Sitting at it, but touching nothing. Shiv brings you coffee, Kendall lunch, Rome a car when you’ve had enough. Only Gerri is the one to notice you’re wearing one of his sweaters. It still smells like him. It feels like him. You’re not sure who brought it over, only that you’ve been wearing it since he died. After, when its dark, they call. They text. They email. Connor sends you pictures, but you can’t stand to look at them, at him, because it’s not him. That’s a body, but he’s not in there. Not anymore. You smash your phone. Then you check it, looking over the last texts you ever sent him. You should have told him you loved him. You should have told him what he meant to you. But you didn’t. And now you wouldn’t get a chance to.

How can you explain this to them? This immense guilt sitting on your chest. It should have been you. It doesn’t work like that, you know that, but you can’t help it. It should have been you. It should have been you. It should have been you. He had more time left, he had more of an impact. He had grandchildren and children and people who relied on him. You? You don’t have any of that. People don’t need you like they needed him. If you could trade places with him, if you could have been the one, you'd do it in a heartbeat. Everyone would be better off, you truly believe that. When you voice this to Connor, in a moment of defeat, he's quick to tell you you're wrong. You're wrong. He would be lost without you, they all would, but you know better. You believe better. If there was any possible way, you would have tried it already.

You would have done anything to get him back.

#writing #connor roy #connor roy imagine #connor roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy x reader #shiv roy #shiv roy imagine #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #logan roy #logan roy imagine #logan roy x reader

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thefallennightmare · 1 year ago

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Soldiers-eight

credit to whoever created the picture. found on google/Pinterest.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes(winter soldier era) x Reader.

Warnings: angst, language, fluff, violence, smut.

Summary: Reader has spent the last seventy years in hell as a prisoner soldier; Hydra’s greatest weapon. Well, second greatest weapon after The Winter Soldier. The only thing that got her through that hell was him, even if she was the one behind his biggest pain.

Authors Note: Russian translations will be at the end of the chapter. I used google translate so if something isn't correct, blame Google.

Tags(open): @elizacusiblog @pattiemac1 @yvessaintmuerte @mdpplgtz03 @mayjaysthots @broadwaybabe18 @sebsgirl71479 @yourfavunsub @themorningsunshine @nikwld @splendidreads @fall-myriad

“Voin, did you hear what I just said?”

My eyes snapped up from the floor over to Ivan who sat behind his large desk, fingers steepled together. There was clear annoyance on his face because of his need to repeat himself. Quickly, I nodded.

“Yes. I’ll go unfreeze Soldat and prep him for the mission,” I said doing my best to hide the waver in my voice.

Ivan gave me a once over before he nodded once, to dismiss me, and I wasted no time in scurrying out of his office and towards the laboratory. I had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself, knowing that this would be the first time I would not only see Soldat but talk to him in almost a month, since that night in my living quarters. Shortly after he left me standing there, naked and confused, Ivan thought Soldat needed to be put back into cryosleep since there was word of a metal-armed assassin being seen in Germany. Soldat needed to go into hiding until the rumors died down.

Could they be called rumors if it was true?

Now, almost a month later, I was ordered to wake him, erase his memories, then prep him for our upcoming mission. Ivan was sending us undercover a few towns over to kill someone that had wronged Hydra; someone that stole quite a few million dollars from Ivan. It didn’t seem as if this mission needed both Soldat and me, not that I was complaining about spending time with him but I practically had to force more information about this job out of Ivan.

“It seems a bit too easy. You say this guy is scum, a lowlife, why send two of your best assassins after him?” I had asked him.

Ivan pressed his tongue deep into the side of his cheek. “This low life is one of the most heavily guarded men in Russia. His father is the leader of one of the most feared mafia gangs. This kid won’t go anywhere without his guards.”

I raised a brow. “Are you afraid of some kid?”

Ivan’s eyes bore into mine. “This kid stole a million dollars from me, he’s smarter than he looks. I’m not going to send someone after him that will fuck it up. Soldat and you are the best.”

At first, I was annoyed that we were being sent on a mission to kill some kid but Ivan assured me that this thirty-something-year-old deserved to die. Not only because of him laundering money from Ivan but this kid had a very lengthy rap sheet that range from drugs to being caught trying to smuggle underage girls into Russia. But as angry as I was, I knew I needed to calm myself because this would not be an easy mission. One of Ivan’s grunts did some research to find out that our target will be at a theater show two nights from now, sitting in his father’s prepaid reserved box seat. This is one of the rare times the target will be away from his guards because he doesn’t want anyone to know he indulges in theater.

Something about being the son of one of the most feared mafia bosses doesn’t allow you to enjoy the finer things in life.

As my footsteps echoed loudly in the laboratory, I gave a tight smile to the doctors that littered against the far side of the wall almost as if they feared me; they did but as long as they stayed on my good side, none of them would turn to dust.

“Voin,” one doctor nodded. “I can assure you, there have been no changes since you were here last night. Soldat is sleeping soundly.”

I knew that, I could hear his heartbeat throughout the compound. It lulled me to sleep every night for the last month.

“Ivan sent me to wake Soldat.”

I didn’t bother giving him any more of my attention. It was all on Soldat who was a few feet in front of me, cold dead eyes peering through the frost on the door of the chamber. I had only seen him like this twice now but it still burned deep into my heart. He was innocent in all of this; he had no say in the choices that were made for him.

Neither did I but I came to terms a long time ago that my say in anything about me seized the second I asked Johann Schmitt to take me in.

My ears tingled as I heard the hushed conversations from the guards that were posted to watch the room.

“Do you think she’ll erase his memories?”

“She hasn’t used her powers in weeks, she’ll end up killing Soldat. Ivan is wasting his time on her. He should have killed her the second Soldat became who he was.”

Anger radiated off of me which caused sparks to shoot from my fingertips. The electricity burned with a hum around the room as I peered over to my shoulder towards the two guards, lips turning up in a sneer.

“It’s like you idiots forget I have super hearing,” I spat.

Suddenly, Ivan’s presence was felt behind me, and with a low growl, I let the electricity fade from my fingers before typing in the familiar code to finally wake Soldat. The cold air wrapped around me like a vice once the door opened and on my own I stepped up to Soldat, letting his body fall into me as I carried his limp body over to the chair in the middle of the room. This whole scene was becoming familiar and as much as I hated it, I didn’t have a choice. Even before Schmitt died and Zola was captured, they made sure I understood that if I didn’t comply with any orders, not only would I die so would Soldat. Immortality meant nothing to them apparently, but they still liked to threaten me with it.

Soldat woke, slowly, and when I sat him gently into the chair, he let out a soft grunt.

“Does he need to be controlled?” Ivan asked me.

I shrugged. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

He mewled over my words for a long moment before nodding. “Take the book with you in case.”

My eyes darted over to the red leather-bound book, the black star mocking me, and gave my curt nod back to Ivan.

“Wipe him then prep him for the mission,” Ivan ordered.

Biting my tongue, I took the familiar position of standing behind Soldat then let the electricity return to my fingers. Soldat was still in a groggy state, not quite realizing what was about to happen. With my eyes closed, I let out a deep breath to center myself mentally. I needed Ivan and everyone else to think I was erasing all of Soldat’s memories but I was only going to erase previous missions. All of his memories of me will stay intact including the night that he appeared in my living quarters after my bath. And the way he made me fall apart for him, spilling my arousal all over his thick thigh.

Heat flushed my cheeks but did my best to make sure no one noticed.

Soldat’s screams echoed loudly in the laboratory as the electricity from my fingers dug deep into his head. He writhed underneath my touch and I could hear his teeth grinding together with the sheer pain I was putting him through. I had done this many, many, times and it never got easier. Knowing that I was the reason for his pain broke me little by little.

Once the surrounding room was filled with silence, it was then that I pulled my hands away before slowly stepping around Soldat, looking into his deep, colorless eyes.

“Soldat,” I said.

“Ya gotov otvechat.”

Ready to comply.

The motel reeked of overuse of cleaning chemicals and stale sheets but I couldn’t complain too much. We needed to stay at this type of motel to lie low and go unnoticed. Soldat followed closely behind, the heat from him engulfing me. Neither of us said a word the entire two-hour drive even though I was clutching onto him as he sped his way through the night streets on his motorcycle. The guy at the front desk didn’t bother looking away from his book when I asked for a room, he simply tossed the key onto the desk.

Coming to a halt in front of the door, I looked over to Soldat. “Were we followed?”

I knew the answer but still wanted to ask, just to make sure.

He shook his head.

I waited for a few more beats, wondering if he would say something else, but when he remained silent, I let out a soft breath and led us into the room. It matched the design of the hallway to a T. Peeling wallpaper, stained carpet that was from either blood or other bodily fluids, and cracks in the window. Thankfully, the sheets and blanket on the bed looked washed, even recently.

Bed. As in one. The only place to sit or sleep in the entire room.

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath.

I had told the guy at the front desk that we needed two beds but clearly; he didn’t give a fuck. Yes, Soldat and I had shared a room the handful of times we went out of town for missions but always there were two beds. Not like we both would be asleep at the same time. Soldat usually took watch majority of the missions while I slept. Even though I erased his memories, it’s like he knew he could rest during his next cryosleep.

“What is it?” Soldat questioned, his warm presence once again felt behind me.

“Nothing,” I shook my head.

There was no need to bother him with my internal despair. I was expecting him to toss his bag onto the bed, ready to take watch, so it surprised me when I felt cool metal fingers graze up and down my back. My body shivered underneath his touch and when his warm breath fanned across the nape of my neck, my eyes fluttered shut.

“Last night,” Soldat began.

With a raised brow, I turned to face him. “Last night?”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Suddenly, I realized that he still thought that night between us was last night and not almost a month ago. To him, time doesn’t pass while he sleeps. But to me? It’s the longest passing of time I’ve ever felt. His absence brings a dull ache within me.

Instead of correcting him, I simply nodded my head.

“Yes,” my voice was just above a whisper.

The air around us became thick, encasing us in a cloud of desire, and Soldat’s hands gripped my hips while his lips grazed over the shell of my ear.

“Why didn’t you stay?” I asked, my hands spread across his chest.

With our mission, we decided to blend in with the crowd tonight and not wear our tac suits. Soldat was wearing a pair of black slacks and a black T-shirt. I could feel the warmth radiating off of him underneath my hands.

It killed me not knowing why he didn’t stay longer than night. Was it something I said or did? I replayed that night over and over in my mind trying to figure out what I did wrong.

Underneath my hands, I felt his body stiffen and I could almost see the walls going up in his mind so I dragged my hands down his chest before wrapping around his back. Soldat’s breath hitched when I softly pressed my hips into his. His metal fingers gripped my hip while his flesh fingers dug into my scalp and pulled my head back so I looked up at him at an angle.

“Yesli by ya ostalsya s toboy, ya by nikogda ne pozvolil tebe uyti.”

The Russian words brought chills throughout my entire body, and a quiet whimper fell from my lips. I almost couldn’t handle the intensity that burned from his gaze and I let my eyes fall to his lips. Soldat’s grip was still tight on my hair so even if I wanted to step away to put some space between us, I couldn’t.

Not like I was going to.

“Soldat,” I breathed.

However, all of my breath was knocked out of me when he pushed me up against the wall, his grip on my hair never faltering while his metal fingers grazed over the flesh of my stomach which was visible thanks to my shirt riding up a bit.

“Krasivyy,” Soldat mused while he looked over every inch of my face.

Usually, I never faltered or melted in front of anyone, especially a man but there was something about Soldat that made me want to get on my knees and submit to him.

I let out a quiet hiss of relief when his tight grip on my hair left, his flesh fingers now lifting my chin. I brought my bottom lip between my teeth and dug my teeth into it, the desire to finally kiss Soldat digging deep into my bones. His hips pressed into my heated core and I couldn’t stop the moan that fell from my lips. My nails scratched at the skin of his lower back and brought his hips into me once more. A low growl erupted from Soldat which only fueled my desire. I felt the outline of his semi-hard cock press against the inside of my thigh but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

I exposed the skin of my neck to him and Soldat wasted no time, his teeth and tongue tasting every inch. My hands were running through his hair, scratching nails at his scalp before dragging down his large chest and stomach.

“Voin.”

My name, well nickname, was moaned into my skin when I grazed my hand over his cock before squeezing it.

Suddenly, the phone in the hotel room rang, echoing loudly against the walls. It made the both of us break away from each other, both standing tall and stiff. The phone only rang twice which was the way to tell us it was time.

Our target was at the theater and we needed to get there as soon as possible.

Breathless, I adjusted my clothes while Soldat stood still, unmoving. His hair was disheveled and his dick was still hard under his pants. It was scary how fast he switched back to the soldier.

“Soldat?” I asked.

“Ya gotov otvechat.”

The large room where the show was being held was crowded, with large groups of people trying to find their seats, and with a gloved hand linked in mine, I led Soldat to our seats that were six rows away from the stage, directly in the middle. My heels clicked along the tile floor while the fabric of my dress clung to my body. The cold air brushed against the skin of my exposed back but the heat radiating from Soldat quickly replaced it. He was close behind me, not allowing more than two inches of space between us.

After we received our message from Ivan, Soldat and I rushed quickly to get ready afraid that if we were even two minutes later, our mission wouldn’t be completed. To get this done with no one batting an eye at us, we needed to blend in. So I was dressed in a floor-length black dress with a plunging neckline and an open back while Soldat wore a black suit, and a white dress shirt underneath. He had a glove over his left hand to hide the metal fingers. It was weird seeing him like this, so normal and not dressed like an assassin, but I liked it. What I loved about the way he looked right now was his long locks were pulled back into a low bun.

My heart skipped a beat when I remembered earlier in the motel room where he allowed me to kneel behind him while he sat on the edge of the bed and I brushed his hair back out of his face.

“Feels nice,” he muttered.

Finally finding out seats, the both of us sat down while our eyes scanned our surroundings.

“Any sight of him?” I asked.

Soldat peered over my shoulder and then gave one short nod. “His box is three rows behind, up towards the left.”

I didn’t follow his gaze.

“Anyone with him?” I questioned.

“A server bringing drinks and one woman.”

This made my brow raise in confusion. Ivan mentioned nothing about there being someone with our target tonight. He was supposed to be alone.

I hummed in response while settling into my seat when the lights went out; the show getting ready to start. My mind was swirling with a new plan, one where we could take both our target and his date out without being seen. Our current plan was I would flirt my way into his box, where I would distract him as Soldat snuck up behind him to snap his neck. Quick and quiet.

I wasn’t thrilled that I would be used as a toy to distract the target because that’s not what I signed up for when I became Voin. But now, there was an extra person to take out, and I felt a small smile pulling at my lips knowing that I wouldn’t only be used as an object tonight.

Soldat was watching me with a soft gaze as I snaked my fingers behind his neck to play with the few loose strands of hair there and leaned in closer to his ear. To the others around us, it looked like a domestic action between two people in love.

“The mission remains the same, only now you deal with him while I get her,” my breath was warm as I spoke against his neck.

Soldat’s body shivered for a quick second before he nodded and we turned our attentions to the stage when the show finally started. My hand stayed at the nape of his neck while his gloved hand rested against my thigh, so close to the knife I had strapped underneath my dress. I did my best to keep my mind only on the mission and not the way Soldat’s fingers slowly slipped through the slit of my dress and then dragged up between my legs towards my core. The cool leather of his glove was a striking contrast to the warmth I felt pooling between me. Even though there were people around us, it was still dark enough that no one knew what was happening unless they were directly staring at us.

His name came out in a breath when one of his fingers slipped underneath the fabric of my panties, ghosting over my folds.

“Ochen' vlazhnyy,” Soldat whispered in my ear.

He pressed a finger into me without hesitation pumping it a few times before sliding in another. I let my eyes shut slowly, biting the inside of my cheek so a moan would pass through. Soldat worked his fingers hard, deep, and fast. I was still so wound up from our time in the motel room, not being able to stop thinking about how good his dick felt pressed up against me I was already so close. The leather added another kind of sensation and when the pad of his thumb began circling my clit, my body tensed for a moment before sheer ecstasy crashed through me like a wave. I grabbed his hand, pressing it harder against my throbbing pussy so I could ride out the rest of my orgasm for a few more seconds.

There were many times that I pleasured myself when I was alone at the compound but none of those orgasms wrecked me as much as this one had. And Soldat only used his fingers.

Breathless, I opened my eyes slowly and noticed that his gaze was trained hard ahead of him, watching the show intently.

“The server has left the box, now’s the time.”

The thickness of his voice told me that my coming undone from his fingers had affected him the same way it had me.

With a nod, I slowly rose from my seat and adjusted my dress before squeezing my way past the people beside me who had no idea what Soldat just did to me in the dark.

RUSSIAN TRANSLATIONS:

Yesli by ya ostalsya s toboy, ya by nikogda ne pozvolil tebe uyti.-If I had stayed with you, I would never have let you go.

Krasivyy-beautiful

Ochen' vlazhnyy-so wet.

#soldiers bucky barnes #soldiers the winter soldier #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier and reader #the winter soldier x yn #the winter soldier and yn #the winter soldier reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes and yn #bucky barnes reader insert

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lilithliliam · 1 year ago

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Between two lovers

Shoto Todoroki v Bakugo Katsuki

Tags: fluffy, soft Love/Jealousy

please do not copy or modify my work. Thank you and enjoy reading 😌💜

You have been friends with Izuku for a long time, and therefore, when Shoto signed up for your team, you accepted him with all your friendliness. Of course, your best friend's friend is your new friend. At first, Shoto looked at you very strangely when you laughed, told jokes that everyone laughed at for some reason, although they did not seem funny to Shoto. You always seemed to glow like the sun. And you liked making people happier. And mistaking Shoto for a new friend, you wanted to make this gloomy boy happier too. But he didn't seem to be amused either by your jokes, or by your smile and your laughter, which everyone called infectious. He always looked at you as if you were crazy. But you did not lose heart. You took care of all your friends, including Shoto. Shared lunch. She hugged him when we met. She shared an umbrella with him if for some reason he did not take it, or forgot to take it with him. She took care of his minor injuries, showed funny pictures. And one day he seemed to thaw out, and became much more willing to take your attention and even said how he likes to communicate with you. He even bought you snacks, justifying it with the fact that "you always eat such snacks, and I thought you would like this too." You finally became friends, because there is nothing impossible in friendship, right? Then why do you feel like his touch is getting hotter? More often. And as if ... intimate?

Katsuki has known you almost since kindergarten. Always so friendly, sweet and kind, even with this useless Deku trash. But it didn't suit him. And he said then that a tough girl like you shouldn't waste time on this quirky loser when you have him. But for some reason you preferred Deku. And his humiliation towards Izuku became more frequent from that moment on. Once when he hurt Izuku a lot, you wanted to protect him and used your quirk on Katsuki. Back then, of course, she was still weak, and Katsuki escaped with only a small bruise, but damn it, who else in his life spoke out against him so openly? (Not counting his mom🌚) You protected this "idiot" from him, from Katsuki. She always waited for him after school, although she herself studied at another school so that other boys would not offend him, supported him and instilled in him faith in himself. You thought then that Katsuki was just a damn egoist who just needed to mock someone, you were angry at Katsuki, called him names in response, but ... You still didn’t understand that he did it all for your attention. For words of encouragement from you. For a drop of your love. One day he got tired of everything, he gave up everything, from stupid insults in childhood, from idiot friends from school to ... the first, stupid love for you. Now he will focus entirely on becoming a hero. But, god, and after so many years you reappear and again prevent him from focusing on his studies and his goals. All so, so, so ... annoying, nasty, so ...cute. Damn cute. So charming. And you became even more beautiful than he remembers as a child, even more in line with his taste. And when you saw him, you did not get angry, as he expected, you ... smiled. For the first time in so many years. That smile that Deku used to give. Aaah, you're such a damn... Then something clicked in his head. No, no, no. Not again. But as you understand...again.

It took a lot of effort for Shoto to overcome some of his fears, but Izuku helped him. They became friends. And along with Izuku was... you. Really a strange girl. He had never met such a person in his life. Seeing your smile, laughter and undying optimism, he wondered if you had been dropped in childhood. What he asked by the way, and you seem not at all offended by his words, you laughed and laughed even more. Did he say something funny? He really meant it. Oh, he got it. You were so friendly and nice to him because of his father. It must have been his father who told you to be friends with him, or you yourself wanted it for the sake of his father's influence. It doesn't matter. How hypocritical. Shoto didn't like you. But as it turned out later, you were not a fan of the Endeavor. And in general, among the heroes, you had no idols. You communicated well with everyone, without any reason. This attracted Shoto. And also the fact that such a daring girl during serious dangers changed dramatically and became serious, helping civilians and heroes in any way she could. He saw how versatile you were. And Shoto increasingly began to catch himself thinking about you. And his gaze at the lesson was always looking for you. Shoto, to his own surprise, was in a hurry to get to class to see you as soon as possible. Talking with you on various topics and marveling at your broad outlook. Helping with lessons, in training, or if you need to open something, get it. Anything he can help. He wanted to be alone with you more and more often, so that you would communicate and joke only with him. Always asked to have lunch with him. And he even learned from you to share food. Mochi that his sister made, especially for you, because Shoto has been saying for several days in a row how much you love them. He liked to look at you, at your profile. On this beautiful face, kind look, sensual lips that always smiled and he thought how soft and sweet they must taste. Damn. When did he have time? Shoto is not stupid, although it took him so long to realize and accept his feelings. But the answer was obvious. Shoto liked you. Very, very strongly.

Bakugo looked at you and Todoroki and fumed. But this anger was not the usual anger that Katsuki usually experienced 24/7, but something else. Quiet, seething from the inside, but more dangerous. Even the air around him seemed to become much heavier. Even Kirishima, who was the most immune to Katsuki's explosive nature, was afraid to anger him and just sat quietly by his side. Katsuki saw the half and half looking at you, instinctively felt that a new opponent was nearby. And this rival is not as simple as it seems. Although Izuku pissed him off because of your attention, he understood that you had a different relationship. But the way Shoto treats you is different from how Deku treats you. Shoto treats you with love, just like Katsuki. Along with anger, pure excitement played in his soul. He accepted the terms of the game and was ready not just to defeat the opponent, to destroy. So that he will only have to swallow the dust behind the two of you when Katsuki takes his prize (you) and proves to everyone again that he is the best man, he is the winner. However, do not assume that for Katsuki your love is a game. He is very serious about everything that concerns you. But Katsuki loves to win, and if you will a win, then the victory will be much sweeter. He lost to Izuku in this regard over and over again but this time he will win. And Todoroki, for whom everything was always easy, by right of birth, because you yourself know who his dad is (only Bakugo thought so) will have to know the true bitterness of defeat. Just wait, his princess, he will certainly make you his.

"Hey, little one. Let's train together today like in the good old days?" Katsuki asks to spend some time together, because you are almost never alone with him. And to his surprise, you agree, giving him one of your smiles .

It just so happened that you injured your hand in training, nothing serious really. Iida's technique didn't go according to plan, as a result of which he hit you. But you put your hand in time and everything worked out. But Shoto treated this as a real tragedy. He sat in the living room next to you all the time looking at the floor. And he looked like a guilty kitten.

–I'm sorry, it's all because of me. I couldn't protect you.

–What are you talking about,Shoto? It's not your fault and you see everything is all right with me - you answer him, taking his cheeks. When you smile at him, he shudders. This does not lessen the fear that one day he will fail you again, that he will not be able to save you, that he may lose you, but it brings the mind into a slight ecstasy of love. He enjoys your touch and smile.

–Listen, I am- Shoto begins, but he is abruptly interrupted by another voice.

–Hey little one, how's your hand? It was with great difficulty that I didn't kill that bespectacled nerd. To see what he's doing. Tch.

- Oh, Katsuki. Everything is fine. Please don't worry and... don't get mad at Iida, okay?

- Pf, whatever you say. You love to defend all sorts of idiots. Katsuki says as he puts his hand on your head. Your hair felt so good on his hands. As well as the anger engulfing Shoto. No way Katsuki will leave you alone, because not only half and half lost his head from you.

–You bark but don’t bite, right, Bakugo? Empty talk is your calling,-Shoto says. It is difficult to resist anger, the fiery side makes itself felt. Shoto senses the danger that comes from Katsuki. He sees that the explosive guy is not indifferent to you. Always seen. The way he calms down at the sight of you, the way he screams at everyone but not you. He can't let Bakugo take you. Not in this life, and not in any life at all. He loves you. Because he never loved anyone like this.You are the only happiness in his life, and be damned if he misses his happiness.

Katsuki looks at Shoto, hums. And taking you by the chin with a hungry bite-kiss kisses your lips. He kisses you as if he has the last oxygen on earth and he is in a hurry to share it with you. It's like he'd been starving for you all his life, because it really is.

–Only you make me so weak and crazy, little one. Made me this way all my life. So take responsibility for this. Be with me, be fucking mine.

Your flushed cheeks from the kiss and Bakugou's confession hurt Shoto in the heart. He doesn't want to lose, he doesn't want to give in. He won't back down. Shoto abruptly but gently grabs your good hand and pulls you towards him. And then also gently kisses you on the lips. His kiss is much softer, but no less insistent. He hums and moans into your mouth with pleasure. His body trembles weakly.

–I'm glad to be your friend, really. But I'm also a man. I want to be something more for you. I love you, much more than a friend.

There is a distinct smell of rivalry in the air. Two guys passionately in love with you, ready for anything for you, look at you with all love and adoration. But neither is going to give in to the other. You better hurry up and make a choice, otherwise they will drag you into this. They will do anything for your consent, even forbidden things, because in war all means are good. It's hard not to be with you, not to be yours. It drives them crazy. And even if you choose someone, it’s not a fact that the other will accept the loss.

#bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki #yandere shoto x reader #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha #bnha reader insert #lovers #jealousy #jealosy

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jasmyluv · 2 years ago

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014. Surprise visit, not so happy reunion

(cw: hinted child neglect, extremely high expectations from parents) wc: 0.5k

Did Sir Diluc really want you to die? Because it sure does feel like it.

He just so casually states that there will be an oral debate right after midterms. You were just so close to dropping out. Could January 14 come faster?

Now, it’s 12:00 AM, where most people would be sleeping, but you were wide awake, two empty coffee cups on your desk, flashcards galore all over your floor, and many crumbled pieces of paper, probably drafts.

A seven page script in your hands and a soft but tired voice saying every word on said script.

Minutes later, you heard three knocks on your Door. Who could that be this time of night?

"...Mom?" You say as you look at the woman in front of you, just now realizing the man behind her is your dad.

"Hello, [Name]. How are your grades? Midterms, I mean." Oh shit.

"Oh! Uhm, I got 100% on… most of my exams." You try to hide the fact you didn't perfect all your exams this year.

" Most? What do you mean by that, [Name]?" She asks, a threatening tone could be clearly heard in the sound of her voice.

"Well- uh, I got a… 99% on calculus." With every word you tried to explain to your parents, the quieter your voice was until all they could barely hear was a whisper. Nonetheless, they still heard it.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, but we are not paying the top school in the country just for you to give us such average grades." Oh, no. She sounds angry.

"Right. I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."

"Hah, you always say that then give me the most disappointing grades. Next time, just keep your promise."

"I'm trying…!" You talk back to her. Well, shit. That's the end of your life.

"Hm? Do you have something to say?"

"Uhm, I'm trying to keep my promise. But, it's extremely hard considering the lessons here are so advanced. I can't keep up like I did in my previous years." You explained to her. You must say, this was the first time you've ever voiced out what you were feeling.

"Then, maybe we should just let you drop out since you have no use for this family. You're only staining the family's name." Your mother said, not even caring to comfort you.

"No, please. I'll try to be better. I promise."

"This is your last chance. If you fail to keep that, we will have no choice but to pull you out of school. We're wasting money because of you, anyway." She said, walking away from your door, your dad following behind you. You just stared at them, is this really all they went here for? Your grades?

You wanted to cry, sob, scream your feelings out. But, you had to make them proud, right? It's a child's obligation to make their parents proud and do their best. …Right?

That night, you couldn't continue to practice your script, much less say anything at all.

previous :: MASTERLIST :: next

Of All People... - scaramouche x fem!reader smau

SYNOPSIS When you, a student who finds her best friend admits the terrors of high school. A best friend who've you'd hated ever since he left. Of all people, why was he the one to make you swoon, a person you swore to hate?

Fun facts!

[Name]'s parents have unbelievably high expectations for her

Her parents like to say that if she's not able to keep her promises and pass beyond their expectations, then why should they keep paying for her education if she's not "learning anything"?

100% and above is "average" in [Name]'s family

Sir Diluc likes to give surprise projects and oral debates

Tag list;

@viridescent-ivy @sakiimeo @ttoshiiroz @lxry-chxn @stopandget-help @r0ttenhearts @h-8chi @thenightsflower @killuixz @linn-a-a @vodkistt @raideneiari @yuyan @layla240 @barbatosfavouritenun @plinkuro @taikabae @beriiov @ghostxrism @rifran @elakari @kairxse @belovedxiao @alwaysmentallyill @mellowknightcolorfarm @xingyunclouds @scooofyaei @nambii @scaraapologist @samyayaya @kunikuzushisbeloved @dee-zbignuts @kaekazuha04 @monochromaticelliot @erosdevil @wisteriarain @kaoyamamegami @dazaiswifenicole @phoenix-eclipses @vivinsoul

#jas writes #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #kunikuzushi x y/n #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #scara x reader #scaramouche smau #genshin smau #🥇 - of all people...

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tj-dragonblade · 8 months ago

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NEMO NEMO NEMO PLEASE

also academic conference AU if you're feeling generous xD

Ahh, Nemo. Previous snippets tagged for convenience! Still don't know where this will end up but I am literally just sifting through the lyrics and drafting whatever comes to mind for this line or that with the barest bones of a set scene behind it. I am sure you can clock the lyric in this one, lol.

Here, he thinks, bitter and contrary, here is something he wants: rain. The reflection of his moods in the weather of the Dreaming had been a boon of validation; the intensity of his feelings was often imprudent to act upon, as he had tragically learned time and again, and letting them scatter and reflect into the vastness of his realm allowed him the management of himself to the benefit of all involved. And now even that small kindness is beyond him. Hob's small balcony is bathed in sunshine, bright and warm, birdsong weaving brightly through the trees; it is idyllic, a perfect late spring day, and he. Resents it. He wishes, desperately, to stand on his own balcony (not his) off his chambers (not any longer) soaking in the pouring rain, letting the worst of his overfull feelings wash away that he might. Find new clarity, in his thoughts. But the weather remains belligerently cheerful, unmoved by the strength of his distress; he whirls from the railing and sweeps back inside. Even his dressing gown (Hob's dressing gown) is a pale substitute for the flowing robes he had favored, lacking the presence and drama that he had preferred. Nothing is as it was, Before. But this is as he had decided it should be. He must find. Other ways, to cope. He considers crawling back into bed (depression nap, old pieces of collective memory supply), but Hob's note had said he would be home by eleven. Which is…soon, he decides, after studying the clock. And Hob would be… No. Hob would not be disappointed to find him back in bed, nor angry, but. Hob would worry, for his emotional well-being, and he has given Hob enough cause for concern already. He appreciates that Hob cares. But he does not wish to burden him more than necessary.

The Academic Conference AU is a long-term beast that started life more than a year ago as a quick smut fill for the prompt 'bed sharing' and turned into an anticipated four chapters of hooking up and relationship development. Assuming I can see it all the way through. I've got pieces of this scattered all over; here is the tag for that and here is a pre-spicy snippet from the second chapter:

He texts Dream, because he's gotta do something with himself in the interim. They exchanged numbers on day one and it's occurred to Hob that Dream might waste precious moments waiting for him outside the panel Hob's supposed to be attending once his own lets out, unaware that Hob skived off. Hey ;) Meet me back at the room, soon as you're able I'll be waiting for you He debates a moment, unsure if sending a pic is too much, whether or not it would be appreciated, especially while Dream's stuck in a presentation. But he's sitting in his hotel room [buck naked]* and waiting to get fucked; if this is not the appropriate time for a spicy pic, he doesn't know what is. He's tasteful about it; he snaps a downward-angled shot of his chest, hair damp from the shower, neither his face nor his dick in frame. Discreet. Just in case. He hits 'Send'.

WIP Title Ask Game

*I am reminded I need to find out if 'buck naked' is a particularly American term and seek a British replacement of comparable tone, if so

#askmemes #TJs Writing #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: Nemo #wip: academic AU

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sciencelings-writes · 1 year ago

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My tLoZ and LU Masterlist

UPDATED 11/19/2023

Of Dubious Sophistication: 6/? posted chapters, Wild meets the chain on a day when he has to act like an important person and decides to fuck with their initial misconceptions of him. Mostly formatted to give each of the Links to come to their own conclusions about Wild, a Compilation of oneshots with a vague overarching plot.

Another Second Chance: 2/? classic Wild gets pulled into the AOC timeline and is tasked to help prevent the calamity. But he looks different enough from his counterpart that he doesn’t reveal his true identity. He accidentally parallels Astor in the whole mysterious sorcerer/ seer vibes as he both knows the future and popped out of nowhere in a dramatic cape and ancient technology. Lots of interaction between Wild and the champions and there is both angst and hijinks. There’s also stuff about the new champions as most of it follows the plot of AOC. Also Wolfie is there because I thought it would be funny for him to bop around the baby egg guardian.

The Silence of the Knight: BOTW pre-calamity fic that’s mostly an introspective fic about why Link went silent and how everyone around him reacts to his lack of outward emotions. I just saw the concept of people seeing him as not quite human because of his refusal to show any emotions and wanting to catch a glimpse of how/ if he reacts when tragedy strikes, just to see if he has the ability to feel anything at all.

Heavy in Your Arms: Wild hated getting his memories back. They could be triggered by seemingly anything, they forced the entire group to stop or have someone stay with him until he got over it, which mostly ended up being Twilight, and he tended to end up feeling terrible. Even the good ones were bittersweet, when he saw glimpses of a family that was long gone or a fleeting moment when his life wasn’t destined to be a nightmare, only to open his eyes a century later having lost everything.He knew it was starting to become a hindrance on their quest and the last thing he wanted to be was a burden. (part of a series focused on the Wolf Trio)

I’ve Seen Hell (But This is a Bit More My Style): BOTW Fem!Link fic focused on how being the first female incarnation of the Heroes Spirit would be treated with a little bit of Zelink as a forbidden relationship. Link is angry and all of her past lives are just as pissed as she is. She’s seen as a harbinger of the calamity rather than the hero sent to stop it. And she’s seen as a mistake of the goddess and proof that the 10,000 years of peace was now at an end. General woman problems you know? (Sequel incorporating LU in progress) also please mind the tags.

Swordcrossed Lovers: Fluffy oneshot of the above au, Link and Zelda go to Gerudo Town and flirt while sword fighting. Zelink Week 2022 prompt: Sparring.

Champions Possessing Wild Oneshot Collection: The champions possess Wild sometimes, it leads to some shenanigans

The Unironic Magical Properties of True Love: totk role swap, Zelda find where Link has been hiding since being stuck in the past.

*NEW* Forever Changed: post totk zelink, where they both come back a little differently and have to deal with the immediate aftermath of... everything.

Requests/ short oneshots:

The Idiots of the Wind: Wind makes friends with the spirit of Revali and they team up to mess with Wild, mildly traumatizing him in the process.

A Waste of Pretty Faces: Wild and Warriors bond over something they didn’t expect (mind the warnings and tags)

To Kill What’s Already Dead: Set after sunset pt.7, Wild deals with not being allowed to see Twilight and with the very real possibility that his mentor is dying.

A Mosaic of Broken Glass: Link has a lot of scars, they don’t like them very much. Zelda is determined to help them work on loving themself. Non-Binary BOTW Link and I accidentally made Zelda asexual.

On Top Of The World: Day 1 prompt for Zelink week 2022- One Last Look, Link and Zelda reunite after the final battle with the calamity. Idk what to say it’s just pure fluff.

Frightful & Delightful: Wintery LU fic that is Hyrule-centric for a secret santa. Hurt/comfort, but mostly fluff.

3 Sentence Fics: Lots of short fics in one place, including LU, botw Zelink, and my own AUs!

The Many Duties of the Princesses Appointed Knight: Fluffy pre-calamity zelink hair braiding, not me basing a whole fic off of a vague idea...

The Caretaker of Holy Things: OC fic made for a zelda creators collab, the Priestess of the Temple of Time remains at the great plateau while the calamity rages around her, unfortunately, she’s due to have visitors.

Whumptober 2022:

Prompt 2: Nowhere to Run: Aryll from my priestesses AU meets the Fierce Deity for the first time.

Prompt 5: Hypothermia: Link and Zelda from my Golden Priestesses AU journey up to the Temple of Nayru to the spring of wisdom.

Prompt 9: Caught in the Storm: Zelda spends one hundred years fighting the calamity, even though he’s slumbering in the shrine of resurrection, Link still finds a way to help her keep her head above water.

Prompt 10: Whipping: Wild from my Fem!Wild AU has to reveal some things about her past after having a panic attack post-battle. Kind of a rewrite of part of the comic where Wild throws himself in front of Wind during a fight, you know the one.

Prompt 15: Emotional Damage/ New Scars: Wild visits the forgotten temple after the events of LU, he mourns.

Zelink Week 2023:

Day 1: Yearning: All In Good Time: Fem! Zelink AU during the events of LU, Wild misses her Princess.

Day 2: Forbidden: The Ballad of Frost and Flames: Fem!Zelink AU, pre-calamity while Link is still in hiding, they meet at a masquerade ball.

Day 4: Hand in Hand: The Fable of the Dragon and the Phoenix: MAJOR TOTK SPOILERS, Zelda makes and eternal choice and Link learns to rise from the ashes.

#zelink #fic rec #fic masterlist #masterlist #totk #zelda #tears of the kingdom #botw #breath of the wild #fem!zelink #fanfic rec #andromedas fic masterlist #loz #tloz #fanfiction #finally got to the point where the old post wouldn't update so here's this I guess

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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months ago

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The Foilies

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me WEDNESDAY (Mar 13) in SAN FRANCISCO with ROBIN SLOAN, then Anaheim, and more!

This marks the 10th anniversary of the Foilies – awards given to the public agencies responsible for the most egregious, absurd and outrageous defiance of freedom of information requests:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024

The Foilies are awarded by EFF and Muckrock. This year's honorees are an entire Coen Brothers movie's worth of bizarre excuses and shenanigans. Top honors (the "Not-So-Magic-Word" award) goes to Augusta County, VA:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024#augusta

The staff at the Augusta County Sheriff's office somehow got the impression that if they wants to make an official communique immune to a public records request, all they had to do was add the words "NO FOIA" to the memo.

Needless to say, the law doesn't work this way. When a county employee anonymously tipped Breaking the News off to this practice, the organization quite naturally filed a request for every county document containing the phrase "NO FOIA." Given that the county's employees had thoughtfully tagged every document they suspected would get them into trouble with these words, it's no wonder that the request delivered a bumper-crop of news stories of incompetence and corruption:

https://www.breakingthrough.tv/post/augusta-foia-nightmares-sheriff-slams-county-growth-amidst-challenges-managing-department-s-payroll

These scandals come from just 140 of the 1,212 "NO FOIA" emails the county admits it has on hand – the remainder have been illegally withheld. Breaking Through News and The Augusta Press sued the county for the remaining emails and won – though the county has indicated that it might waste public funds appealing the decision:

https://www.newsbreak.com/@breaking-through-news-1615604/3304349127261-augusta-county-weighs-options-after-foia-defeat-mulls-appeal-reporter-demands-production?s=mp_1615604

There are so many great – by which I mean terrible – stories in this year's Foilies that it's hard to pick just a few to highlight, but boy oh boy, does the Chesterfield, Virginia Police have a doozy this year:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024#lapd

The police of Chesterfield County, VA claim that the names of every police officer on the force should be kept secret, because one or more of those cops might someday work undercover. As EFF writes, "It’s not at all dystopian to claim that a public law enforcement agency needs to have secret police!"

Now, I don't want to give you the impression that all this nonsense stems from small-town-Deputy-Dawg-Barney-Fife-type dimwits with harebrained schemes. Big, important statewide offices are also in the mix. Take Arkansas governor Sarah Huckabee Sanders, who spends millions in public funds for her family to travel around America accompanied by an Arkansas State Police detail:

https://www.arkansasonline.com/news/2024/jan/12/six-months-of-protecting-sanders-family-costs/

Governor Huckabee Sanders's relentless waste of public funds generated a steady, humiliating drumbeat of news coverage. This made the governor both sad and angry, prompting her to attempt to block FOIA requests for her travel spending, and when that failed, to call a special session of the legislature to enact sweeping limitations on Arkansas's sunshine law:

https://www.ualrpublicradio.org/local-regional-news/2023-09-08/sanders-calls-special-legislative-session-on-tax-cuts-foia-changes

The governor's farcical wish-list of anti-transparency measures didn't just put severe limits on the disclosure of her use of public funds. It also contained a raft of administrative changes, like an end to the practice of FOIA plaintiffs being able to recover their legal fees if they successfully sued the government for illegally suppressing disclosures.

In the end, Governor Huckabee Sanders was defeated – a torrent of opposition to the bill removed its most odious clauses, though, as EFF notes, it's a near-certainty that Huckabee Sanders will try again in the next legislative session.

The military got in on the act this year, too: the USAF's FOIA portal was altered so that filers had to swear that their request pertained to "clearly releasable" records – then failed to define "clearly releasable." After a PR fiasco, they walked the changes back:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024#usaf

Now for the Mississippi goddamn moment: the Mississippi Justice Courts obstruct access to two thirds of the public records on search warrants:

https://www.propublica.org/article/no-knock-warrants-missing-mississippi

A lawsuit by the Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal is seeking to force the state's courts to obey the law:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024#blindfold

Now: on to Wyoming! Wye not? Democracy may "die in darkness," but culture war bullshit thrives in the absence of sunshine. When (former) Wyoming Superintendent of Public Instruction Brian Schroeder and Wyoming Department of Education Chief Communications Officer Linda Finnerty decided to waste public money on an private "Stop the Sexualization of Our Children" event, they correctly judged that secrecy would be key to pulling off the scam:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024#wyoming

When Wyomingans sought details about the pro-censorship event, Schroeder and Finnerty manufactured "misleading statements" about the event and its funding:

https://trib.com/news/state-regional/education/wyoming-department-of-education-lawsuit/article_0d87ae52-1c18-11ee-b541-b75142a9d1d5.html

Schroeder also illegally withheld his text messages from a public records request, ignoring state's attorneys' advice (instead, Schroeder took bad legal advice from his friend, a private attorney named Drake Hill, who told him he didn't have to follow the law):

https://cowboystatedaily.com/2023/09/14/under-oath-former-wyoming-education-chief-admits-lying-about-political-event/

The resulting lawsuit turned up 1,500+ texts and emails – enough damning evidence to discredit Schroeder and Finnerty, and to set important new precedent for sunshine laws in the cowboy state:

https://cowboystatedaily.com/2023/11/02/texts-show-schroeder-made-wyoming-dept-of-education-staff-feel-icky/

When you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bills. That's the strategy of both the Baltimore Police Department and the Richmond, Virginia Police Department. Baltimore's cops told Open Justice Baltimore that they would need to hand over one miiiiilion dollars if they wanted to see the department's use-of-force records. The Baltimore PD argued that the public interest fee waiver didn't apply to use-of-force records, because there was no public interest in knowing about how the only people in the state legally allowed to hit, kick, choke and shoot other people used force:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024#baltimore

Baltimore police eventually dropped the ask to a mere $245k, which a court totally rejected, saying it contributed to the impression that the BPD had "something to hide":

https://law.justia.com/cases/maryland/court-of-appeals/2023/20-22.html

Meanwhile, back in Virginia, the Richmond police told Open Oversight VA that they would have to pay $7,873.14 for a copy of the police's 151-item list of procedures – $52.14/hour for a pre-release review of each of those procedures (most police departments just post their procedures to their websites):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/03/foilies-2024#richmond

I opened this highlight reel in Virginia, and that's a good place to stop it. I hope you'll go read the rest, I've barely scratched the surface. And once you've read these all, I hope you'll try it for yourself!

As EFF and Muckrock say:

It's easy to feel powerless in these times, as local newsrooms close, and elected officials embrace disinformation as a standard political tool. But here's what you can do, and we promise it'll make you feel better: Pick a local agency—it could be a city council, a sheriff's office or state department of natural resources—and send them an email demanding their public record-request log, or any other record showing what requests they receive, how long it took them to respond, whether they turned over records, and how much they charged the requester for copies.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/11/no-foia/#id-tell-you-but-then-id-have-to-kill-you

Image: EFF https://www.eff.org/files/banner_library/foilies24_webbanner-b.png

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

#pluralistic #right to know #open records #sunshine laws #sunshine week #foia #eff #muckrock #transparency #Association of Alternative Newsmedia

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freshlyrage · 2 years ago

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 8 Javi's Chapter

whats playing: Self Control by Frank Ocean

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 9.2k

Javier had picked up on a few habits. Nail biting came first when he loaded into his truck when he left in 1980. He tried to keep from looking at you after you stained his shirt a deeper shade of blue with your tears. Biting his nails for the first time, right hand, his left hand was patting down the mark on his shirt. Lorraine in the back talking off his head as Don Chucho drove. Chucho always knew, he knew, so he rested his right hand on Javi’s shoulder as he drove into and out of town. Javier's hands flex as he imagines your back under his palm.

And the apartment in Houston never felt like home. Not for a second. Immediately he felt like a lost little kid. He gave himself time to inch back tears alone in the bathroom as his estranged girlfriend frolicked around the home. Lorraine was thrilled, she had genuinely thought that her cheating was behind them. Javier never got over that, never got over his time being wasted and in turn allowing her to waste more of it.

He spent June and July finishing his GED, living off the temporary money his dad had given them. Lorraine was the same, living off her savings and money from her mom until she started school in August, and until he was of age to work at the precinct.

One week in, Javier found a new habit with tobacco wrapped in white. Heading to cop bars with his older colleagues who would sneak the eighteen year old in. Lorraine was stressed with school by week one and Javi took her study time to ring your house yet you were never the person to pick up. “Oh, no she's out right now.” Javier’s brow would crease, wanting to ask, with who? Where at? He would still tell Frankie to relay messages of hope everything is good although he had other words he wanted to say but that was for your ears only.

Climbing out the hole that is their room, Lorraine, “How is everyone?” Her eyes tired from stress. By mid september Javier had started to sleep in the bed with Lorraine. They had shown good face for their friends before they moved but the second they were confined to this space, all of their grievances were revealed. Just in the first week, you are a lousy boyfriend, you never tell me how you really feel, Javier would dig back but his weren't low, he would just repeat over and over that she should have some sort of decency to break up with him before she jumped onto someone else. Even in september he was angry but an argument ended in them fucking so thats when sleeping in the same bed made its debut. Very healthy.

“I only spoke to Frankie, he’s working. So is Genie, still cleaning up that office space.” He left you out because your name was brought up in those arguments with accusations of leading the poor girl on, Lorraine's words.

Lorraine liked you, a lot, but she was very weary of you. Maybe she didn't have the right since she had cheated on Javier, and truthfully you hadn't crossed any lines when they were together. You had just suffered in silence, if anyone was crossing lines it was Javi but even that… you wouldn't call crossing. The lines were blurring and he nearly tripped over. The line disappeared when she cheated and Javi moaned into your soft mouth.

Lorraine walks behind Javier as he smokes out the window, her hand skating his shoulder in a hold he didn't want. Not when he lit his cigarette to ease his worries of you.

Her cheek resting on your shoulder, “And Andrea?”

Stay cool, any incorrect phrasing and Javier was done for, back on the couch.

He flares his nostrils out of sight of his blonde girl, “Nothing new, just started school. She wasn't home.”

“And you asked for her?” Her voice was slightly unsettled and threatening. Javi sighs knowing where this was going, flicking his cigarette. Lorraine hated the habit, being in school for health care and all, also hated kissing him with the taste. As much as he wanted to be angry with how Lorraine had become with you after they had gone away he sort of understood her. Although he had the looming knowledge of Lorraine kissing someone else while they were deep in- he still had a grasp on what you must come across as. Less of how you came across, more-so how he responded to the call of your name.

Javier shakes his head before looking down out the window making sure the coast was clear before dropping the stick off the ledge. “No, Frankie just told me”. The conversation ended there and Javier served her dinner.

He would call once a week to your house and still you just never seemed to be home. He would get small snippets into your life that fall. He heard you cut your beautiful long hair off. Javier’s eyes wide at the thought of how the short hair would look on you, he knew you could pull any look off. He felt it might've been weird to ask for a picture from your brother but Javier got lucky when he received your school picture in the mail from his dad.

You are missed at home. Here is Andrea’s school picture her mom gave me, and a picture of me and Frankie at Genie’s salon

See you at thanksgiving.

Love,

Your dad

Javier traced a hand over the image of his father and best friend in front of the pink lit sign. His slow breathing at the sight of you for the first time in forever. Biting the inside of his lip when he sees your bright eyed smile and short hair. Fuck, he wishes he was home with you, with his dad and with everyone.

Javi tucked the image in his wallet and headed to work. He thought about you that whole day.

After two weeks of internal struggle and eye contact avoidance with his girlfriend Javier came to a silent conclusion. He was a selfish person, it wasn’t a trait from his father, probably from his mom who selfishly abandoned him at too ripe of an age. An age he denies he remembers but he knows it all.

He knew kissing you, taking you to his home, asking to make him stay, he knew all of it was selfish. His self control just wasn't there. Not when you trusted and adored him so much. He flicks his cigarette outside the precinct next to his favorite co worker, Thomas. Javier decided to call less and although it wasn't you on the end of the line he knew him reaching out so often would just continue to hurt you for his own selfish gain.

You deserved to have a normal high school life, boyfriends and friends, not tied to the phone calls and subliminal flirts hoping you know he still feels deeply for you. He was envious of your ability to be so absent. You must have been finally getting a taste of the simplicity of a life without him. The time just isn't right for the two of you.

Javier makes his last call in December.

That day in December Javier had been drinking, alone as Lorraine stayed out with her classmates. His beer on his right and ashtray on his left. He almost chuckles at how mortified you would be at this image. He looked at himself a few times in the mirror and could see that boyish look leaving him more and more everyday, and it wasn't just his new killer mustache and stress lines growing. It was the way he was carrying himself, eighteen and assumed to be pushing thirty. Just great. A grown little man.

Donny Hathaway playing through his record player, he just keeps aging himself.

He rings the house, sort of figuring it’ll be Melissa or Frankie telling him he just missed you. But it's your squeak that he hears for the first time in seven months, his blood running cold and his hand hurrying to put out his cigarette like you were really there to scold him for it. He decides against it, keeping it burning between his fingers.

“Andrea, haven't heard your voice in awhile.” He breathes out in a pathetic hurried way. His own cheeks burning in embarrassment. You hum over the phone at his words and Javi looks to his lap hiding a smile from no one but himself.

“I’ve been busy, keep missing your call. I don’t want to bother ringing your house either.” Javier laughs at the irony, just last year you had been passing his house to see if he was there and now it was him trying to get a glimpse of your life from miles away. He thinks of how nervous you used to be when he smiled, how you would run a hand through your hair, your hair.

“Busy doing what? I saw the picture your mom sent by the way-Hair looks nice, looks pretty on you” He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, feeling like anything he says to you crosses a line he doesn't want to cross anymore. It will never be fair for you. Selfish .

There's a small silence before your angelic voice quips again, “Thanks Javier Peña. And busy with school-and you? How's everything?” His name, so smooth from your lips. How did he get this bad for you, how did this happen. Javier feels sick for a second, say it again. He thinks but logic precedes him, be normal. He draws his cigarette again, fearing you’d yell at him over the phone (although he would kind of like that) for picking up on such a habit. He hums remembering the times you would put him in his place, “Hmm.”

“Started officially working, all the other cops speak spanish which is nice. There’s a cop bar just a few blocks from my house, we hang there.”

“and your girl?”

Selfish, nosy, like him. If you were in his shoes, he’d ask the same question. Javier would want to know every detail of your relationship just so he could find something to be upset about.

Javier scans the room devoid of Lorraine, they weren't good. How could they be?

“Hm. We’re good, she’s staying with a friend tonight at her dorm. Just in very different places right now-she’s in that college mood and i’m just work and sleep. She gets real mad at me-“ Javi stops himself then sighs, a shaking breath escaping as he realizes he's crossing another line. “M’sorry, not supposed to talk to you about these things.”

You sigh and he can imagine the crease of concern between your brows, he’d pass a thumb over it and smooth it over if he could. Another thought that shocks him.

“It’s okay, you planning on coming home anytime soon?”

“Uh-not sure. Would love to come down for your birthday but this law and order shit is real rigorous, thinking i’ll just send you some birthday money over there”

A classic bratty scoff sears through the static, “Don’t do that.”

Javi rolls his eyes, missing you so bad. “Told you to take care of yourself before I left-are you, querid-” Javier fills himself up with unnecessary panic as he nearly calls you the name he reserved just for you, the name he called you before- “Um-aren’t you… taking care of yourself? Avoiding Daniel and whatnot.”

“I am. Funny how you left and suddenly I have no more boy troubles.”

Javier is breathless and reminded of your face. Not the smiling one he saw almost every day but the one blotchy with red marks of tears when he so selfishly asked you that question, how your chin quivered at him. The cigarette dying in his hand, vinyl record needing to be turned, “I’m sorry, i’ll keep apologizing-”

“Javier-”

“No, I'll keep apologizing until you believe it, I'm sorry for putting you in that position. It was unfair." Javier's eyes fall to his lap, feeling like it was you sitting across from him with that red and whining face he left you with.

But the door opens and reality sets, and he says his goodbyes to you abruptly.

Cutting off your small bye and he decides it isn't fair. He was done being selfish.

Train. It doesn't matter of his body fucking hurts, train he let everyone go for this, he pushes himself.

He sleeps four hours a night and works the rest of the day, meals meticulously planned to keep him in check. Turns down a beer, only one habit at a time, he’ll smoke in the bar instead.

He calls, only his father, twice a week. He stops asking for you-not because he means to but because worrying about you would kill the routine-it would kill the numbing cycle. He keeps a space in bed for Lorraine and maybe they would fuck if he found the energy. When she wakes for class he’s already gone, at his desk, wondering if this whole DEA shit is worth it-if it’s promised.

If Javier finds time, if his estranged partner finds the will, they will talk about breaking up. Both thinking its the best but Javier’s concern for her well-being-considering that he provides for her-ends up overruling. You're right, but once I get my residency then… well then we can figure it out.

Javier wonders when will they assign him, fuck he had turned 21 three years ago and from the research and tabling he’s done, they all knew that Escobar was reigning hell in Colombia. When Javier asks with a hand on his hip, his superior says they are still weighing the risks, “We send you out there and you get killed, fuck, 23 year old southern boy American boy killed by narcos, the optics of it all”

Javier bites back the urge to tell his gringo boss that the story would be flipped into a discussion of his citizenship before he hit American soil for burial. But he doesn't, he just nods and almost responds before the boss speaks again, “But, we are working on arrangements to send you out there… safely.”

Technically, Javier and Lorraine had been separated for 3 years by 1986. They lived together, and promised not to sleep with others since raw sex was all they enjoyed. Javier still provided, not because Lorraine couldn't but because at that point he was making too much money for his own good. He sent money back home monthly, fighting the urge to maybe send you something, that would be weird, he hadn't even heard your voice since you were sixteen.

Fuck, you were what? 21 turning 22?

Javier knew general things about your life the past few years. He knew your mom got engaged, Melissa head over heels for a white guy named James. Javier knew that Frankie and Genie were engaged as well, living on their own with two successful salons. He heard that you got a boyfriend, that was news for Javier. News from Lorraine this time, over take out on a rare night where Javier laughed in the presence of her. His chest caving in a jealous fit that he thought he had gotten rid of long ago, something in his chest chipping away. Right then he decided that he couldn't go back if it meant seeing you with someone else.

And imagine his surprise when Lorraine says the boy's name was Xavier. So he knew about you and Xavier. He also knew you attended UMiami, smart girl. Knew you were farther from him now, that comforted him a bit. Knowing that you did well for yourself, that you were experiencing something outside the torment that is being home.

He remembered you joking that your mother hadn't ever wanted a daughter, it stayed with Javi, every time he looked at you he thought of you feeling like you weren't a good enough daughter.

Javier knew that you probably hated him. You could ring her but she probably won't pick up. It was Genie who said that to Javi on Christmas over the phone. Javier had your new number the three years you attended school in Miami but was ultimately too distracted and scared to call you.

In January of 1986, a few days before your birthday, Lorraine was given a residency match at a children's hospital 30 minutes north of their apartment. I found an apartment, I was just wondering if you could be a reference.

And that's how they broke up. Not an arm flailing argument like they had twice a month, the relationship died with grace, Javier hadn't seen that coming. Javier told her he was proud and that he would always be around to help her. She was to move out by May.

In February Javier goes home.

Well, he drives home for a day, has dinner with his father and drives back in the morning without running into anyone from his past. Javier’s eyes burned for almost a second when his eyes fell on a picture of you in a cap and gown on the wall next to his own police academy picture from 1981. Your smile is bright like always, with a soft curve of your lips with your long hair tucked behind your ear.

Ears large, you hated your ears, Javier thought they were cute. Was that a nose ring? Melissa must have fainted at the sight. Javier packed and exited at 8 am to head back to Houston. Fuck all of that. The image burned in his head anyway and he shut his radio off when Juan Gabriel blared through the speakers. Fuck— that.

Javier returns home after his day trip to Lorraine half packing the heading out to her friends house. Javier returns to work, training, tiring, stretching, writing, printing and thanking god he doesn't go on patrol anymore. God he never felt like less of a hero when his first work assignment was watching his patrol partner asking homeless folk to move their tents. He thinks of that moment and thanks god he was working on detailing and research for the DEA instead.

In April Javier walks into his office with a loud yell and confetti in his face. He flinches then grins at all of his colleagues dressed in cowboy hats-mocking him as his nickname around the building was Vaquero , the big city Texans found Javier's tight pants and belt buckles amusing. Unsure of the occasion or if he was the right person for this party his deskmate Felipe shakes his shoulders, “You're going to Colombia.”

Javier scoffs in disbelief as he's surrounded by music and hugs and congratulations with a few “you’re making history fucker.” Youngest guy they're sending out to Medellín. Javier learns that day that it was his last week in Houston before he gets a six month break before he starts his first day the embassy in October.

Polaroid pictures and cheek kisses from the desk women who Javier had unintentionally flirted with throughout the years, Javier’s work finally paid off.

His boss, Townes, poured him a drink and handed him a pile of mail. Javier was bad at collecting from his mailbox. Townes laughs at Javier's shocked expression, it sure did pile on. The entire office was in fits of conversations and dances. Javier made note of how close his deskmate Felipe is to the front receptionist Gina. He fucking knew it, her face bright red when Felipe would walk in and place a light tap on her desk. Javier narrowed his eyes at him while he obviously bit back a smile when they walked to their own desks. Felipe had a hand flat on her back.

Townes cleared his throat. “Opened this thinking it was mine, you should really head to that man. Seems like you're missed in Laredo.” He grips Javier's leather shoulder. Javier frowns and stares at the ripped envelope before digging his own fingers to fish out the card. Javier’s eyes bounced between letters, as they circled in his head quickly and with panic. He felt his superior smile from behind him, probably proud with his mini retirement suggestion. Javi traced his finger at the bump out lettering.

You are invited to Genie and Frankie’s Wedding 6-20-1986

Javier gave a thinned lipped smile to his boss, it was time for Javier to come home, he knew it for a while, but he was sure of it now.

Javier dusted his desk off with a shaky finger, his father at the doorway watching his every move. Rubbing his fingers together and flicking the collection away. The slightest frown on his lips, regret piling in his throat. He hadn’t gone home in so long. He could feel his fathers eyes burn on him as he watched the room he grew up in turn into a place of visitation, vacation, no longer his home.

His bed made, the childlike posters staring back at him and the teddy bear Lorraine had given him on valentine's day during their first year. Javier walks over to pick it up and inspect the thing. Feeling it’s fluffiness being a bit matted with age. Javier then looks at the picture of him and Lorraine on his night stand. Seeing his old smile and lighter brown hair. What an idiot he had been to shave his mustache that was itching to come in back then.

He knew he had changed a lot. Taller, slimmer, more lines when he smiled, hair curling at his neck and a mustache that wasn’t needed to prove he was a man but a thick one nonetheless-made him look unrecognizable.

His bear still in hand he hears his dad step slightly closer, “She’ll come around papa.” Javier’s eyes drop at the sentiment. Javier hadn’t really specified why they broke up-Javier never really told Chucho anything about Lorraine unless it was positive. He didn’t want to complain about her, he promised himself he wouldn’t be that sort of boyfriend or ex. Chucho had only ever been with Javier's mother but he respected her enough to relay that piece of advice to never speak down on your partner, even if they were an ex. You dated them for a reason, those reasons don't disappear when you split .

He hums an agreement although he knew there was no coming around, they had been over since 1981.

The dust can be seen in the sunlight from his window. Circling and never falling. He had been home just for one day 4 months prior, and he hadn’t stepped into his room. He hadn’t even left his childhood home, he just stayed in the living room with his dad, silently watching tv as if this was normal, him being around, like that was normal. As if his dad didn’t have to face sending his only child away to a new dangerous career venture. Javier also knew you weren’t home then, not like he’d dare to stop and say hello after writing you off for so many years. His stomach flips at the thought of seeing you now.

The heavy hurt he just knew he instilled in you, would you slap him when you run into each other? No, not Andrea. You would never put your hands on him. Would you be so surprised to see him that you’d forget his absence? Would you smile out of instinct or frown in realization?

He hadn’t seen a picture of you since you were a senior in high school, it’s been three years since then. Did you have an apartment in Florida or do you still dorm-would you even have to stay all summer or could you just stop by your brothers wedding and settle back into your home so far away. You had mirrored him but decided to make it a competition. Your thousand miles and his three hundred.

Somehow he was able to tuck away the thought of you, for those first two years in Houston the thought of you not being okay consumed him. Lorraine had come home with takeout laughing about some chisme she heard from her friend in Laredo about you getting caught piss drunk on top of some guy in a bathroom. That led to an argument, Javier asking Lorraine to quit gossiping, which then developed into a screaming match about you and Javier’s obsession. Javier just asked her to table any conversation involving you, that he rather not know. So he pushed the thought of you and everything that came with the wallet image he tossed away with a heavy heart.

Pinching the bridge of his nose when he would receive unsolicited updates about your life from your brother or Chucho. This would be far easier if people didn't adore you the way they did.

He remembers when Chucho called him that July after helping you pack up your room. If he had stayed, god he couldn’t bear it be you leaving. That was the first time he was glad he had left first. “Javi.” Chuchos voice brought him back to earth, back to Laredo.

Eyebrows shooting up Javier turns to face his dad, “Yeah?”

A look of sympathy crosses over the wrinkles on his face, “Today is Tito’s 13th birthday.” His dad frowns, knowing what he was about to ask. Javier was stuck for a bit, confused at the sudden statement. Then more floored by his little cousin turning 13 when he was only 7 the last time he had been home. “Everyone is expecting you.”

Javier feels a bubble growing in his chest at the thought of curious eyes and awkward hugs. “Who is everyone?” A hand falls to his hip, he knows. Everyone is everyone, there’s no damn party in this town without at least a hundred people walking out drunk regardless of the age of the birthday boy.

Chucho chuckles and tips his hat at him before leaving Javier in his old room.

Despite Javier’s protests and complaints of being tired he’s dressed in a flannel and patting his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Rehearsing in his head how to answer stupid and overbearing questions. Closing his eyes at the thought of getting a lot of Lorraine heavy questions. Thank god for the cigarettes in his pocket.

Javi was a passenger for the first time in a long time as his father drove them down to the venue and it’s like the second coming of Jesus when a 23 year old Javier walks through the doors.

Chatters in Spanish about how he’s grown, cheek pinches, kisses a bit too close to his mouth from girls from school that he doesn’t remember. Alejandra, according to her, Javier’s first girlfriend. “Tengo que decirle a la gente que mi primer novio fue un agente de la DEA.” She grins and kisses his cheek again, Javier’s nose scrunching.

After the small encounter Javier he sees the same little face on an elongated body. Little Tito, tall giving a sheepish teenage hug as another girl his age hangs behind him. Javier has a knowing smile remembering having a girl - friend at 13. “You’ve gotten so tall, who’s this?” Javier tuts his chin at the young girl whose face lights up in a blush, her eyes shifting everywhere but on Javier. Tito laughs in the only way a crushing pre-teen could.

A brace-face smile, “Oh, my friend Adriana.” The girl smiles at the introduction, hands behind her back shyly. Javier raises his brows at his little cousin, and gives an approving frown. Familiar name. A mirror of his own childhood with you. Javier leans down to whisper in the birthday boy's ear.

“Be nice to her, keep up the Peña reputation.” He advises, a firm squeeze on his bony shoulder before waving the two of them away to go back with the kids of their age. Standing straight Javier rubs his jaw and straightens up his going out top. Scanning the room for his dad who had parted the second he was swarmed. The same local mariachi band performing at the blue and red themed birthday party.

Instead his eyes fall on a woman with blonde hair tied in a neat bun, thick brown brows and an aging smile that shrinks at the sight of him. Mrs. Smithfield in all her southern-belle glory staring at Javier with conviction. Javier blinks a few times before attempting to wave before she turns her back to him and walking away. A nervous shaking breath is exhaled from Javier’s lips, he regrets coming home.

In the midst of Javier’s growing panic a slender hand grabs his shoulder and his knees weaken before he turns at the possibility of it being you. Instead, it’s your mother, your face on hers with more age and a stoic smile-you must’ve gotten your gleam from your father-he’d never know. Javier’s heart races at the sight, just your mom, after years. A few wrinkles included but still beautiful-still graceful and articulate. Hair moussed in curly scrunches, the smell filling the entire space, a long floral dress and a rosary flat against her chest. She grabs at Javier’s face and he looks away in embarrassment. “Javi! My goodness, didn’t know you could grow facial hair.” Her hand cupping his chin and manhandling his face like he was still fourteen. Her thumb brushing on the outer corners of his mustache. Javier chuckles and just allows her to examine him-“was so worried the academy would turn you useless and old, not even being a cop could break those Peña genes. Que chulo.” She jokes before slapping his shoulder, she loved thy neighbor, you know, unless they were cops. Javier nods a yeah, yeah.

His chest rising and falling as the possibility of you being here increases by a million. His eyes dart around the woman in front of him but fall back on Mrs.Diaz just as quick. “How's everything?”

“Oh please, Javier, how are you? The DEA? That I could at least respect you know, is the salary good-it better-sending you to a war zone, I pray for you papa.” She looks over his shoulder for a second, then tightens her grip on his bicep. “My god-Frankie is going to freak out when he realizes you're stronger than him, he’s here!” Javier lets out a chuckle fueled by nerves at the thought of seeing your brother. Your mom had a new glow, one quite foreign to Javier. He remembers Melissa as just a nice lady, nothing more, nothing this enthusiastic.

“Well, he’ll be even more angry when he sees that my mustache is better than his Ms. Diaz.” Javier jokes with a light squeeze to her arm. Her brows furrow and then settle in realization.

“Mrs.Warden now Peña” She corrects. Javier is struck with even more confusion, forgetting she was engaged. “I married Mr. Warden, you know the middle school teacher?” She gleams as Javier’s face spreads in a smile, ah, right, Ms. Diaz got laid. Javier hugs his best friend's mom while uttering congrats and prying information out of her to take some of the heat off of him. She quips, smiling with every detail before waving him off to the table where he spots a grown man who is apparently Frankie.

Frankie unknowingly dug into his food while Javier stalked the table to wrap his arm around his best friends neck. Frankies arms flail to grip Javier’s hold as Genie squeaks at the sight of Javi. “What the fuck-” Frankie groans through coughs as he slaps Javier’s hold. Javier loosens and kisses the cheek of Frankie who is still disoriented as his Fiancee giggles at his side. “Didn’t tell me your mom was taken, I was finally going to make my move.”

Frankies eyes finally widen and he turns to fully see Javier’s face before letting out a little girl shriek before wrapping his arms around him, a hold Javier didn't know he missed this much. “You sick fuck, what the fuck?” Frankie laughs, gripping the shoulders of Javi to examine all the changes that six years create before giving a disapproving frown. Javier’s eyes almost look shut as the wide grin on his face ceases to shrink, “Your mustache isn't as good as mine though.” He comments, Javier’s smile dropping jokingly before pulling him in again.

Genie sneaks in and Javier lifts her with his hold, kisses littering her cheek, he didn't expect himself to feel this affectionate but here he was. God, they were getting married. 8 years together, Javier wanted to ask how? How do you make that work, how did they do it so effortlessly. Maybe he should have asked for more advice, they had been doing something right, maybe Lorraine wouldn't be away although maybe the advice would lead him to stay with her.

By the grace of god, Genie and Frankie seemed to be too distracted by Javier’s new career venture to even utter her name. They knew, Javier also knew that they knew. He wouldn't come home for vacation without her you know unless… unless they were split up. Like always, Genie didn't hold back on the pig jokes. Discovering Frankie proposed on the beach when they went to Puerto Rico last May and how it's going to be a large backyard wedding-completely planned by Melissa and You. Javier couldn't help but let his brows shoot at the mention of your name, your name uttered out loud and not through static on a phone. Genie knowingly bites back a smile at his obvious attempt to micro manage his facial expressions as Frankie goes into detail about your skills in flower arrangements. How you cussed so loud when a rose thorn dug in your finger that your mama let the kitchen to hit you with a pillow as you dramatically cried at the cut, she just always been a crybaby, Frankie shook his head.

Javier wondered if your thumb felt better.

With Genie observing Javi she answers the question that has made its course around his head since they arrived, “Andrea is somewhere around her, surprised you didn't bump into her already. She’s hard to miss.” She chuckles before peering around the table to spot her. Javier holds himself together at the news. You were in this room, he knew he’d see you here so why was it that he feel the tension between his shoulder blades burn hot and glowy. Micro manage. Javier just nods. In his most lax way he asks what she meant by hard to miss.

Frankie chuckles loudly at the thought of you scurrying around the party. You really had developed that maternal look as you followed the small steps of the new walker, trying to figure out how a one year old could be so fast, your hands out as you chased the stinker. “She’s got the baby with her.”

And to hell with micro-managing because Javier gives himself the sickest case of whiplash at the statement.

No way. Dad would have told him. This is some sick prank.

Javier's eyes snap to the stroller next to the empty seat just left of Genie and Javier feels his entire soul sink. No. “What, what do you mean?” Javier leans into the table, already visibly stressed at the thought, his mounted arm moving to stroke the hair below his nose. Frankie and Genie both glanced at each other and then back at Javier before bursting in fits of laughter. Javier blinked quickly, his leather clad shoulders dropping with air filling his lungs. Those fuckers. Genie found it hilarious, her head falling back holding her stomach and heaving while Frankies laugh deepened at the sight of his fiancee in a fit of laughs. How cute was the sight, Javier was sick. Javier kept his unamused trained eye on the couple as heels approached the table.

“Marisol fell asleep, could you watch her?”

Your voice burns in Javier's brain and he lifts his bowed head up at your approaching body, and your eyes widen in sync with his. He stares up at you as you crowd the table in a white turtleneck and long skirt as a baby girl has her face smushed in silent snores against your chest, you hair brown but honeyed. The maternal sight makes Javier dizzy. His chest falls for a moment, and you don't smile at him, you're just as shocked. Frankie chuckles and removes the chubby baby from you. You looked like you but far more grown, filling out your shirt, your eyebrows thinner and your hair in that layered look you used to have to make you look older. A proper beautiful woman, Javier wants to jump to his feet and hug you like he did your brother but his mouth is dry as is yours. “Javier, Hi.” You whisper while making Javier's chest ache at your softness, your voice and the fact that you hadn't used his nickname. You sit, patting your black skirt down as you give confused looks to your brother and in law, why didn't you warn me face. Javier licks his lips and stupidly all he can think to do is hold out his hand for you to grab and shake.

Your lips quirk at the gesture and you touch him anyway, your hand dwarfed by his. Get it together Javier. “Hi Andrea, your brother was just trying to kill me, saying that baby was yours almost-”

“She is mine.” You stare at him blankly and Javier’s eyes grow in size, and his cheeks heating before a real smile grazes your face. Javier feels privileged to see you smile again, smile at him, to see how despite having a wide smile, your lips never fade when you gleam. A nose stud. “Mi hermanita.” You confirm, trying to keep your own cool. You could feel Javier's body heat, the smell of him, his knee so close to your own.

You wanted to push him, kiss him, hug him, cry and tell him how much you missed him or tell him what you’ve been through. But all you could do is offer him small talk while he stares at you with his puppy dog eyes wondering where’d all the time go?

You're given a minute to breathe as Frankie pulls Javier's stare away from you as he explains the timeline of your mother meeting James, getting eloped and having a baby. Javier is shaking his head in shock the entire time, you watch the back of his head. His hair long again, folding at the neck with sideburns chopped and perfect. And a mustache, you didn't expect that. You didn't expect… well… you were immediately smitten with what he had grown to look like. So manly and broad, and hairy and large. You almost forgot how deeply hurt you were by him. Not one call. Looking down at your white top as a small stain from the drool of your baby sister's mouth darkened. Wiping your hand across your breast.

Javier’s eyes snap discreetly at your breasts and its movement when you wipe.

Get it together Javier.

You didn't notice but ultimately gave up on the damn thing just to find Javier staring at you as Genie and Frankie crowd the stroller watching the infant stir in her sleep. You raise and eyebrow at the boy you still want, “What?” You narrow your eyes at him, and his lips stutter into a warm frown half hidden by the hair. You wanted to grab his face, feel his skin on your palm and hold.

“I feel like I deserve to be slapped by you.” He states plainly.

Your face is stone cold, as you contemplate the offer but despite all the animosity you felt, you'd never put your hands on him, only if he asked and allowed you to kiss it better. You shake your head, Javier is really here. Your eyes leave his and scan the busy party. Seeing your mom serve a young child food. Eyes falling back to Frankie and Genie giggling off about something, not paying any mind to Javier’s burning gaze. “I feel like we should go talk outside” you spit, still being able to hold out any self control as he nods.

Shoulder to shoulder with Javier again in the middle of a rare may breeze, looking up at the rare clear sky, it rained all week. Suddenly sunny and silent. The whole party stared at the two of you as you walked out of the building. Your mother nodding to you, James giggling to himself like the hard-ass he is. Feeling his shoulders rise and fall as you stood in silence.

"I'm sorry-"

“Shut up Javi, please.” Your hand comes up to your hair, running it through. Side by side you can't see his face but you do feel his body sink for a moment. It was the please that did it for him, he knew you, even after all these years. He knew a please out of you, a plea to him wasn't in your ranks. Javier did shut up though he wanted to hold your face and say i’m sorry, I’m sorry, so sorry. But you can't have any of that, you have control this time. You have control of your circumstances and you could push him, you could tell him he was a heartbreak you've been incapable of recovering from and you sure as hell could tell him that you hate him. You could also kiss him and leave him confused and aching to touch you and then you could leave. Go back to Miami, cut contact and live a life privately. Make him feel how you felt, how you’ve felt for six fucking years.

No.

You look to him and his eyes are peeled to the lot of cars in front of you, he feels you stare, burn, you burn him with the gaze. You thin your lips and hug your arms under your breasts, hugging your body. “ When do you leave?” You state more than ask.

His lips part and his head turns to you, looking into your eyes. That, he loved that. He loved how dark your eyes were, so dark that any light in your way makes them doe and animated, he hated to notice, but he fucking aches over the way your brows fold and bend with a line of stress when you look to him. “November.” He answered you, his eyes flitting to your lips, Javier couldn't help it, he found you so sexy back then when you forced answers out of him. God forbid you do it now, after so many years, after you've grown into that. Full, womanly, softer, prettier and meaner. Well, he had no right to assume you had gotten meaner but sixteen year old Andrea would have jumped into Javier's lap even if he had left you in that way. You had grown, meaner, if it was true he’d want it all. You quirk an approving frown before peeling away. Look back at me.

“Do you really want to leave this time, and don’t bullshit me I don’t deserve any of that.”

Tan Brava.

Javier smiles to himself but bites it away feeling that if you had caught him you’d click away in those little heels. He circles the question in his head and shrugs, “It’s work and the pay is handsome, close to a hundred.” He doesn't know why he admits that so quickly to you but you gasp, clutching at your stomach and you laugh. He needs a cig. The mere sight of you smiling so close to him is sending him over the edge.

“Jesus fucking-sorry, just my starting salary is a fraction I-just shocked I’m sorry.” You exhale and Javier cant take it he’s patting at his pocket to fish out his killing carton. Your eyes watching his deft hands, veiny, you trap that image in that corner of your sick head. The stick falling between his large hands and up to his lips, your eyes follow it all. Your nose scrunching in disgust when he flattens his lips and covers his light. He side-eyes you in confusion.

“What?” He mutters, stunted by the cigarette at the corner of his mouth. Your face continues to twist in disgust.

Shaking your head and crossing your arms, “You’re nasty Javier.” Continuing to shake your head as the sweet teen boy you had in your head dies when you watch the grown man in front of you, do something so adult , feed into an addiction. How cliche.

He laughs, “Never seen someone smoke a cigarette before?”

You deadpan as you fight the urge to reach to pull the stick from his lips and stomp it. “Put it out.”

“Why?”

You narrow your eyes, “Put. It. Out.”

Smoke leaves the corner of his mouth, “Why, tell me.”

“You should be taking care of yourself, it's bad for you.”

You admit a bit too much and he's grinning like a fool and removing the cigarette from his upturned lips. He flicks the bud onto the floor and stomps it. Now it's you biting a smile at him listening to your request. You whisper, “Thank you.”

That has Javier looking at you with a dimple deep eyes shut grin, “Anything, Andrea, for you.” He mocks and you narrow your eyes. You want to pounce him in every sense of the word. You want to get on him and yell at him for making this so hard, you want to grab the back of his stupid head lick into his mouth until he’s begging you to give him anything, you knew he’d beg you. You also wanted to li ke actually pounce him , with the intention to wound. But the second form spoke the loudest when he licks his lips at your annoyance.

“Light another.”

“What?”

“Light another so I can use you as an ashtray.”

You're joking but Javier feels his pants tighten at your demand, for a moment he was willing to let you burn him, he’d been a dick and deserved it. With his hands at his side as he looks at you he thinks about how easy it would be to just kiss you. With a sly scoff and a head shake Javier plays it off, “Jesus, you seem stressed, would you like one?” He edges, reaching for his pockets and you swat him on his arm. You had to hold out.

“Oh, so you smoke because you're stressed?”

“Yes.”

“About what?” The air shifts with your light hearted question, you hear the music from inside change to something loud and eclectic, you could hear people scurrying to dance. You usually would wish you were inside but now you were extremely interested in what your ex-best friend is so stressed about that he decides to fill his pores with the smell of smoke. He quirks a brow at you, like you just asked if birds fly, checking if you were serious about the question before whisper a fuck it.

“Well, first of all, I haven't seen anyone in years and when I showed up in here they were treating me like a fucking Kennedy, asking me all these overwhelming questions about Escobar. I haven't even been to Colombia yet-then…” He looks down to the pavement and you begin to feel like shit for even asking, the way he takes a moment to breath worries you and your body twitches to hold him but decides against it. He breaths. “I see Lorraine's mom and I’m sure you know-just never worked, Houston made it worse. Whatever, her mom looks at me and turns her back, then your mom.” He laughs, still looking away. Your brows tense as you watch him in a state you've never really seen, so much insecurity and shame. Houston wasn't going to be good for him, I knew it wasn't. It circled your head for years but for selfish reasons, he won't be good because I wont be good without him, but instead he just didn't do good for himself. Your hand grazes his wrist for a moment and he doesn't move from your caress but it's fleeting so he continues with a frown and no eye contact.

“When I saw you with the baby I nearly had a heart attack by the way, and then I felt guilty because you surely could have had a kid and I just would have never known, that's been killing me. Then you pull me out here, and I get deja vu, remember the last time we were at a parking lot?” He looks up to you with a stupid smirk and your mouth drops, just when I was feeling bad for him.

You lean your body weight into him and push as he laughs and fuck it, you're smiling too, ear to ear and it feels like 1980. Your heart is pounding against your rib cage at his statement before the kiss comment, he leans back into you. Have a kid, thats funny to you. “What makes you think-jesus.” You giggle and Javi is at ease again.

“Fucked if I know- last I heard you were in a committed relationship so fuck me for thinking that maybe you had a baby.” You cringe, you knew Xavier was more than likely coming to this function, you saw his sister earlier, what a beautiful disaster it would be to have Javi and Xavi in the same room again, god forbid Javier finds out the things he would say to you. Your ex would be gone by tomorrow.

“Mmm, past tense yeah. You're not the only one who gets to make bad relationship decisions Agente.” His eyes snap to yours again at your nickname and his lips quirk to a frown after taking in your bad relationship comment. It was easier said but he wished that for you, a good relationship, it would hurt less to come home and see you happy. But you being available is making it all unbearable and the two of you have only been with each other for fifteen minutes.

You watch Javier's expression soften, how he got prettier is beyond you. His smell had changed, still sweet yet earthy, with a hint of smoke-you would never admit to him that you liked the smell. Not after you threatened him for smoking. Your eyes flick away from him as you watch the car that had just pulled up go into park with a familiar back facing you. Right in Javier's blind spot, Jesus christ. “So what I’m gathering is that you aren’t in a relationship,-”

You interrupt him with a full arm squeeze as the leather crunches under your clawed hands. His temple creasing with his confused look he gives your pleading face. Why did this always happen, horrible timing with you two. Xavier’s walk is dominating as he quickens to approach the two of you, still nothing compared to Javier-he noticed too. God, you want to kill yourself thinking about the amount of times he didn't make you come…and he was a prick and you stayed, for so long.

Javier’s nostrils flare at the realization, remembering that you ended up choosing fucking Xavier, the loser who attempted to slut shame you the first time you all met. Well, Javier left you when you had shit taste but he held hope out for you, hoped that you’d realize how good you were. Xavier is in front of the two of you with a smile and in his camo military get up. “Long time no see Javier.” He holds out his hand for Javi to shake but Javier stares at it for a few seconds. Never liked him.

He shakes it anyway and Xavier exhales with a laugh. Dork. He then looks at you with a smile, his eyes scanning over your body.

You feel your breath die in your throat at the thought of how he spoke of your body just two years ago. You gained weight in high school, god forbid . It was around thirty pounds and it hadn't bothered you, you were still healthy-you body just had began turning more womanly. Throughout the entire relationship he found some way to slyly imply that your natural body was one to be ashamed of. And you lost the weight when you split up, not purposefully but because the dining hall food was putrid. So the gaze of your ex makes your stomach flip and Javier notices your change in body language. He crosses his arms and puffs his chest slightly but he doesn't need to; he already towers Xavier, “Yeah man, what is it that you do now?” he asks tauntingly.

Xavier smiles and points to his military cap, “I’m back on base in Cali in a few months…” His green eyes move to your rigid stance with a small smile that makes Javier’s blood boil. “Guess you've always liked men in uniform DeeDee,” While he gives you whiplash with the horrendous nickname he gave you back in the day, he wags his finger between you and Javier.

Javier’s eyes narrow at the boy and shakes his head, asshole , he mutters and Xavier doesn't catch on as his perverted eyes drag down your frame again, “I’ve got to get inside but I saw you leaving the gym where 7-11 used to be, you look great now, see you inside.” He grips your shoulder and is entering the party before Javier could react with attempting to get at him but he was gone.Your heart is full in worst ways, so full of disdain and hatred, feeling like an insecure seventeen year old again with his cunning ways to be an asshole towards you. Your hands fly to your face to pinch the bridge of your nose, too much all at once .

Javier’s hand is on the curve of your back in a familiar comforting hold, too much. Your eyes sting but they are shut, not today. “God, I fucking hate him so much-sorry” Javier feels your anxiety and anger burn off your skin and it makes him crazy. Just in the small interaction Javier understands what you meant about bad decisions . Javier had learned a lot in training about self control, he learned how to regulate his emotions well. It worked so well with Lorraine, the arguments stopped being explosive. But to hell with training, he didn't care the scandal it would ignite if the man of the night ran into the kids party and beat the military man bloody.

You look down at your own body and step away from Javier's hold, “um… please just tell my family I went home early.” Pull away, distance, more unsaid things, you had more to say you just cant do it not after seeing Xavier. You’d be sick by the time you get home.

Javier’s heart leaped at your distance and lack of eye contact. What happened to his smiling girl, querida. Feeling like a teen who had just been pushed away by a pretty girl, Javi stutters, “Yeah-I-I’ll tell them, just how do I”

You grip your purse and smile fakely, you’ll make sure to cry about him later. “I’ll call you tonight.” The wind pulls up and shifts your long skirt as you give Javier Peña a thin lipped smile. Javier tried not to break out in a face of relief, instead he nods you off and he watches until you safely get in your car and pull out of the lot.

Jesus christ you could drive now.

He felt like such an asshole.

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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teaveetamer · 2 years ago

Note

I am curious, I've been watching the discourse going on for a bit without getting involved and at this point I feel like I have to ask.

What is the desired result here? Why are you engaging in the discourse at all? Clearly this is not a discussion, so what do you gain from interacting at all?

(I will send this to several people, just out of curiosity)

Alright anon allow me to explain what's been going on with me on my end.

The year is 2019 (yes, we're doing this). FE3H has just come out. I play it and rather enjoy it actually. I've got a couple of ships that I'm into, some fanfic I want to write, etc.

I go onto Reddit to chat with people about the game. Now I don't really like Edelgard, but I'm chill, I'm open to discussing the game and getting alternate viewpoints. Initially it's more or less fine.

Then some posts start coming up. People start getting really aggressive about this. I'm trying to have a conversation, but it feels like their goal is just to shout me down. I get in arguments, I get in fights, I get misgendered, I get called a bigot, I get frustrated, I get ablest rhetoric spewed at me, and I waste my life.

Stop. Take a look at myself. I'm literally sitting here arguing about Edelgard von fucking Hresvelg for hours of my day. I'm annoyed, I'm irritated, I'm always in a bad mood. Ugh.

Now it's 2020, early times I think. I resolve to stop looking at Reddit so much with regard to this game. It's not worth the hassle and the frustration. I should be, like, out doing things and having fun not wasting my time arguing with a bunch of weirdos on the internet. I want to have fun again, not be angry. I delete the Reddit app from my phone and install a blocker on my web browsers, even.

Start using Tumblr for more than just shippy stuff, and find people who agree with me, who are saying the things I've been saying. I stop feeling crazy for liking the game the way I like it. I make a few posts on my main blog but you know what, I don't really want my main blog embroiled in this shit, though I want to add my voice to the conversation. So I make this side blog.

Make some posts. I get flooded with asks from other people about the game, saying they agree with me and they're thankful that they aren't the only ones who think the way I do. I think within like a month of existing this blog had double the posts of my main blog (which has existed since 2016, so for four years at that point), most of them from asks.

The blog was initially for me to vent and throw in my two cents here and there, but I figure I'll keep it around in regular use because people seem to be benefiting from it.

Early on I tried to establish a rule for myself that 1) I wasn't going to go looking in any main tags (e.g. the Edelgard or Edelgard Positive tags) for stuff to reblog or talk about, and 2) I wasn't going to go into any Edelgard specific spaces looking for stuff to talk about (e.g. r/Edelgard or even Dimitri-critical tags). However, anything maintagged that was looking for a fight (e.g. a Dimitri-critical post in the main Dimitri tag) was fair game.

I'm not perfect, but I did try to stick to that rule. I talked about things that happened on the main FE Sub or FEH sub. I did my best to encourage my anons to not go seeking out stuff to bring back to me from Edelgard spaces. After all, this blog was meant for venting and having my own personal space where I could talk about my views without getting accosted. I thought it would be petty for me to go bring back stuff from other places.

Moving into 2021, I was kind of done with 3H. I was still getting like dozens of asks a day about 3H discourse. I'd answer one and five more would pop up in their place. By now we're like, well beyond 3x or 4x the amount of posts I have on my main blog. I'm getting kind of tired of it. It's a lot of the same points over and over and over. We're in pandemic times, so I can't even walk away from it and do something else IRL for a while before coming back to it. I feel like I'm wasting my life again. I feel like I've said anything and everything I could have possibly said about the subject. I ask people to stop talking to me about Edelgard. Eventually, everyone mostly obliges.

I still chat about it here and there, but I'm chatting about other stuff too. This blog is still about venting just about venting about more than 3H. A lot more petty fandom shit in general.

Now we're in, like, 2022. I don't remember exactly, Pandemic Time makes some of this a bit of a blur. I notice a new kid on the block, doing basically what I'd noticed happening on Reddit. Going into the wrong tags. Picking fights. Posting things in the wrong tags. Picking fights.

I'm over it, I'm done, I don't want to deal with this shit anymore. I block the dude. Most people I know block the dude or ignore him. We figure he's new here, he just hasn't learned the etiquette.

He gets increasingly hostile. I'm not really paying that much attention, just getting info about it from the fringes. Again, we figure eventually he'll just go away if we ignore him.

Then Nilsh gets harassed off the platform.

My mutuals are getting increasingly hostile anons and combative reblogs.

At this point I'm relatively unaffected. I guess because I don't tag anything, so he didn't find it.

And you know what? I'm still like "he'll get bored. He'll leave eventually." We were all like "just ignore him, he'll leave eventually."

People try to explain tags to him. Try to help him curate his experience so he quits arguing with people who don't want to talk to him all the time.

Then Moonlitboar gets harassed off of the platform. They take the URL. He's bragging about having done it. He's spreading this vitriol to other platforms and convincing others to join in on the harassment.

And I'm like. Okay. This dude isn't leaving. This is what he wants. His goal isn't to talk about this game—his goal is to hurt us.

I unblock him and respond. We go back and forth. He stops... for a time.

Here's the thing. I didn't re-block him after that, and I didn't do that for a couple of reasons. First, because at this point I'm still hopeful that he's just unaware of what he's doing, and that he'll acknowledge how messed up it was and apologize. I'm all for second chances. The second, because he's dangerous and I'm worried that if I don't keep tabs on him, he's going to try to hurt me.

It's not long until he's doing the same shit again. He tries harassing BWIIDT, he tries harassing FantasyInvader, he tries harassing Ezra, he tries harassing RandomNameless, he tries harassing Emblemxeno, he tries harassing Gascon, he tries harassing people I've literally never even heard of. I keep calling him out, and he tries harassing me. He calls me hysterical, accuses me of acting like a victim. Tries to make me feel stupid and small by saying I don't have anything worth his attention to respond to.

(By the way dude, my point about that was that you were being misogynistic but treating discourse like it was only worth responding to if it came from a man. See, I noticed that you only liked to attack people you thought were cishet white men like yourself, even if we were saying basically the same things at times. The fact that you continue not "debunking" any of my posts doesn't upset me; it proves my point)

He blocks me. I can't say for certain why, but my bet is that he realized people were actually listening to what I had to say, and having a queer woman question the actions he purported to be for the benefit of queer women wasn't a great look for him.

He's still trying to harass me. He's taking screenshots, he's using my name, he's @ ing me. He's casually lying about me. He's using sexist rhetoric implying that I shouldn't be listened to because I'm just too ~in my feelings~ and he's the true victim of my hysterical victimized martyr complex (geez, you sure a a feminist ally for that one, aren't you?)

You know, I did actual research when one of my anons accused him of being a trump supporter and tried to lie about him? I burned an entire evening on that, because I didn't want to be spreading lies about people. Meanwhile he lets his anons casually and repeatedly misgender me without so much as a passing correction, and he hangs out with people who spread lies and slander accusing others of heinous crimes.

And you know what? If I knew it was going to be like this? I'd still waste that evening and correct that anon. It's not about getting a petty win or convincing people he's a bad person for me. It's about being respected.

So to get back to your question. Why am I doing this? Because I have to. Because I know that if I don't he's going to hurt someone else, just like how he hurt Nilsh and Moonlitboar. The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, after all. We ignored him and he didn't leave, so now we have to say something.

What's the desired result? I want to be respected, like I've tried to respect them for almost the entirety of this blog's existence. I want my boundaries acknowledged. I want him to stop hurting people for no other reason than to hurt them, because they don't agree with him.

When will I stop? When he stops.

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the-mirage-forest · 5 months ago

Text

Short Story Time!

Wrote a short story last week about Shi and some of his backstory + the aftermath, here's a link: Google Doc

I'm not sure if I'll publish future ones also in google doc, making one long post with it is probably unviable for them, archiving them on Ao3 feels like a decent option but I don't know how tagging would work.

Anyway, because I haven't posted the bios for some of these characters in a VERY long time-some bios getting edits and the almanac unintentionally being hard to access (oops)-Bios and context below the cut! I'd highly recommend at least reading Shi and Saturn's at least.

CONTEXT CUT

SHI & DEATH WELLS

One of the 11 Wielders of The Mirage, Shi is the Wielder of Death. Wielding death itself both metaphorically and literally. Unlike other Wielders, Shi’s scythe is sapient.

On one hand, Shi is a clean freak, judgemental, but intelligent and greatly caring of his family. Usually keeping Death in line and keeping the house where he and his siblings live clean, sometimes babysitting the rest if Saturn is out in public. Spending the rest of his time with Scuro, tends to flub up his english, though Scuro will always be there to correct him.

On the other hand, his scythe is also judgemental, bossy, mocking, and just the (literal) tool embodiment of an a-hole. He can talk and communicate both regularly and telepathically to Shi, usually giving snarky comments and insults towards his siblings.

Shi’s story begins in Mexico around the 1940’s-1960’s, living in poverty and by himself. Shi sees an odd creature, mouselike but not quite. And chases it into a Mirage portal. However, this particular portal was unstable, sending him back thousands of years into the Mirage. as much as Shi wanted to leave. There was a pull that was keeping him there, something was calling him.

So he followed that pull to an old, crumbling crypt. There was where Shi would meet his soon-to-be best friend, Scuro. The Wielder of Shadows, was guarding the crypt. Despite the goo monster at the crypt speaking English (Which Shi didn’t understand), Shi continued on almost robotically. With Scuro threatening to use their powers to throw him back where he came from, but never actually doing so because they don't have the heart to. Quote:“Hey! Go away! I’ll kick you right out of here! I will! I’m not kidding! I will!”

Reaching the crypt, there’s a looming ominous scythe standing by itself upon a pile of rubble. Scuro, quite tired of seeing things die from this scythe. Tackles Shi as he grabs it. Sending off an explosion threatening to collapse the crypt and sending Scuro into a wall. This was Death itself, the Last Trial Scythe. Though accomplishing the impossible of not being turned to bones the moment he touched the scythe unlike those who came before him. It was coming up on Shi, upon being called reckless by this angry scythe. Shi becomes something of a verbal dagger and starts sassing an ancient object until the object asks him to “Take responsibility”. To which Shi, not understanding what this actually meant, said yes. So, Shi got up from this whole ordeal. Becoming the Wielder of death, accomplishing what even The Overseer thought was to be a fruitless waste of time.

SATURN WELLS

I’m not sure why it took me so long to write about the Overseer himself, but it did. This is Saturn Wells, the only Overseer of The Mirage. Very old, very anti-social full-time Overseer and parent. Doesn’t really sleep much, but it’s usually only a few hours long when he does.

5’, birthday unknown, weighing 186 lbs. Saturn’s extremely wise and intelligent at his job. But also a very caring stay-at-home parent, we’re not sure why he cares so much about his own kids. They’re adopted, and he knows they might die and he’ll have to start all over, so why does he even try? According to him “I don’t care if I’ll have to take care of them forever throughout every life. I still want them to live happy lives, every time.”.

His care for the Wielders and the two Starborn are still odd by an Overseer’s standards, though. Most of the time they’re left in someone else’s hands.

It’s worth noting that he didn’t create the Xiilunes, while only he knows of their origins he simply gains a mortified look and never speaks. Although in the few cases we’ve seen him with the goo(s), he’s unable to control them, much less make them spread.

As said before Saturn’s extremely wise and intelligent. However his knee jerk reactions definitely aren’t the best in the world, often leaving him with large problems. Such as when he took the starborn in without realizing he would have to parent them, though he doesn’t particularly regret that one. He does however, have a tendency to become anxious and reacts very poorly to stress. Even small things tend to put him on edge, while very soft and caring for his family. He hates having to interact with the public otherwise, social anxiety and all that.

Lives in a house out in a secluded area, like a hermit and opposed to going out in public. The house has a special spell on it, whoever walks near it in a three-mile radius is unable to leave without his permission. Instead just walking right back to it.

Has pretty bad stress-eating habits and feather-picking habits, and a fear of abandonment, which has gotten bigger in the last few years. Compared to most Overseers, his poor health has led to his magic being a bit weaker than it should be…

SCURO WELLS

WATAWNA WELLS

The “younger” of the two Mirage starborn, Watawna Wells is technically the 2nd-to-eldest sister to the Wielders despite not being one herself. Despite this, they still treat her more like an aunt figure. As she seems to have picked up on her father’s (Metaphorical) softer side.

7’2”, born a few milliseconds after her sister (Something that’s frequently fought about), Watawna spends her days as a pediatrician (focused on the magic side of things). She seems to have her interests drift from place to place and then loop right back around, unbeknownst to anyone. She was a poisoner for a short time, but quit because unlike her sister, she has a better moral code.

Watawna’s something of a kooky aunt figure, the type of person who collects shiny rocks, the type of person who’d get distracted by all the lost stuff they found while cleaning their room. Yes, she’s those types of people with a side of care and bubbliness. Probably intelligent, but really doesn’t act like it. Personally I think she’s a bit oblivious sometimes…but I’ve heard that if she does get mad she crawls along the walls/roof chasing people like a demon in an 80s earth horror movie. Sadly, I can’t say if this is true because it’s literally impossible to annoy her at all that it's annoying in itself

Being a starborn, she’s extremely powerful in her abilities. Most of her abilities makeup what we all know as Hollowlantern Magic. Just like regular Hollowlanterns, she also needs leaves to power said magic.

The relationship between her and Tempest certainly isn’t tense, they may not act like it but they stick together through and through no matter what. It’s impossible to see one without the other nearby, although fights have certainly happened. Some leaving lots of damage and in some cases, casualties. Both are also of equal strength, although neither really show it. In fact at first glance it may seem more like Watawna is the weaker of the two siblings, but no matter how you cut it. They’re the same in their abilities.

Lives in a house with Tempest that’s nearby Saturn’s house, roughly 4 miles away.

TEMPEST WELLS

This is Tempest Wells, one of the Mirage Starborn. Being 0.00000561 milliseconds older (And more responsible in general, but how petty do you have to be to figure that specific number out?)than her sister, she’s considered the older of the two. Standing at 14’1, Tempest’s just an inch above the average Hollowlantern height.

Born sometime around October 22-24th alongside her sister Watawna. She’s one of the few starborn to still exist in this universe, starborn are beings born from magical forces getting caught in a supernova. Resulting in one or more beings of various forms to be born, however, they’re often highly deformed and weak at birth. Tempest and Watawna were extremely lucky, only being born without faces. Something easily fixed from Saturn’s knee jerk reaction of carving their faces, which (somehow?) didn’t kill them. Out of the two, Tempest is considered to be the unfriendly one. Unlike Watawna, Tempest really doesn’t care about others, not that she can’t. She just doesn’t like to. While definitely brash, gruff, and a bit quiet. She has shown to be much calmer and sometimes has a heart. A much better listener than speaker for someone who needs to vent, as opposed to Watawna, who’s version of comfort is…all over the place.

While not extremely aggressive of everyone around her, she most certainly doesn’t like them, letting her pessimism and lack of tone control. Well, control how she speaks. As you can tell, Tempest has a very pessimistic outlook on life. With Watawna there to “remind” her.

Moving on from her personality, no one really knows what’s underneath Tempest’s hood. It’s so old, and well kept, still holds together pretty well from what I’ve seen. Supposedly she got it as a birthday gift and hasn’t been seen without it since, hell even Watawna’s curious. We’ll probably never find out, because even if it goes down to her ankles it’d still be impossible to sneak up on her much less yank it off.

(I’m not sure if I’ll be in trouble for saying this, but while Tempest is a surgeon at O’Ghost General Hospital, I’ve found some evidence she may be a hitwoman on the side…so if you never hear from me again randomly, that might be why…)

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