#s2 wasn’t that good too unfortunately

[c0rvidfagg0try]

So deeply upset abt WWDITS being cancelled what the fuck

[loliwrites]

August: Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast

part one of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader  ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother!reader [child won’t play a massive role], canon compliant gun violence [starts with a snippet from s1e7], mention of canon compliant violence against women [javi remembers helena], terrible exes, mention of past relationship abuse [nothing specific or graphic], creepy guys [not javi], sassy chucho, alcohol consumption, brief SMUT, car sex, unprotected p in v sex, post-sex photos, cigarettes [are bad for you], javi’s gonna make a good girl dad, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 7.3k (woof, sorry. there was a lot of exposition to get out) ⇢ series masterlist  ⇢ a/n: switching pov’s in this one. very excited to share this series with y’all & would love to know what you think about it! as always, i’ve done my best to tag the warnings, let me know if you think i’ve missed one.

Two shots. One right after the other. That’s all it took before he managed to get his first shot off. Well, that and the sound of lead whizzing by his head. Clear and present threats to his life trying to break skin and shatter bone. In another lifetime maybe he’d have been a little faster. A little quicker to the trigger. When out on raids like this, he wasn’t sure why his finger wasn’t perpetually in a half pulled position anyway. What use was it trying to take these guys alive? They shot first and asked questions second. Why didn’t he? If they had no qualms killing a DEA agent, why’d he take precautions to save that of a sicario?

These are fanciful thoughts. Ones you can only think about after the fact. Ones only after you’ve almost had your life ended, when your adrenaline has played its role – when you’re no longer running through the streets of Medellín, praying that when you round the corner, some guy with a .38 isn’t going to clock you in the head. Bullseye.

Those are thoughts that have to come later because running after a guy nicknamed ‘Sure Shot’ doesn’t instill one with a whole lot of confidence that he’s going to get out of this alive. Hell, maybe it’s lucky Poison fired the first two shots through the window. Maybe it was fate that he’d had those couple seconds to shoot back and make a run for it before Sure Shot lifted his handgun. 

Not that anything that followed was lucky.

Murphy had gone after Poison. He’d run after Sure Shot, who, while on the run, seemed to disregard his nickname and the fact that he had a weapon in his hands. Before they’d separated too much, he could hear shots ringing off and knew Murphy wasn’t having the same experience with Poison. Rather unfortunately, the streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives, put right in the middle of the action through no fault of their own other than the misfortune of their geography. They were making it hard for him to keep pace. And should things go even more amiss, they would become collateral damage.

He rolled his ankle once while propelling himself over a wall. When he landed, he knew he fucked up. Not as spry and nimble as he used to be. And surely not as much as the man he was chasing. But they were leaving the crowds. Dodging the busy streets and trading them in for back alleys which left them virtually alone. That was when it really all went to hell. He’d gotten Sure Shot pinned in his crosshairs. One could call it a perfect sting operation as Sure Shot slid his gun over. But if there had been one thing Javier Peña had learned being in Colombia, it was that he should never count on being lucky, especially when it came to anything Pablo Escobar related. Because money spoke, but it spoke louder in the slums. 

And the child that had arrived pointing a handgun at him, demanding Sure Shot be let go? Sometimes twenty dollars looked too damn good. And to a child who’d been exposed to cartel violence for the entirety of his life; being handed a gun with the money was like a dream come true. They weren’t playing cowboys and indians. They were playing policía y sicarios.

Up until that point, the worst thing he ever had to do was point his government issued sidearm at that child. He didn’t know it at the time, but that would eventually lose its place on his growing list of ‘worst things he’d done’. He couldn’t even blame the kid who was only acting in favor of a hero, so he added it to the list of reasons to hate Escobar.

Javi blinked. He was no longer in Bogotá or Medellín, but in Laredo, Texas. His hometown. Gone were the days of chasing someone down and being shot at, for now at least. Now his days consisted of helping his dad out on the ranch or DEA desk work. That was the one perk to Laredo. It sat right up against the US, Mexico border with an international airport a stone's throw away on the Mexico side, in Nuevo Laredo. It was just the right place for a DEA field office to set up and watch drugs try to enter the US. But it was also the place Javi had run from. The first chance he got, despite conversations with his father about how he could run but he might not like what he found. Truth was, he didn’t. The world outside Laredo was… pretty terrible. But he never regretted leaving. There had been some remorse there for what had happened with Lorraine, but never regret. 

Javier closed his mouth and swallowed. It had run dry in his moment of blacking out. Honestly, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten into a car wreck. He rested his arm on the car door and drummed his fingers against the hot metal. It had spent the better half of the day baking in the sun while he sat at border watch. Now it’d bake a little longer while he helped fix a fence on his dad’s ranch. 

He glanced out his window, squinting despite the sunglasses over his eyes and had to do a quick double take. You gotta be kidding me. Going along the sidewalk, arms swinging haphazardly, a little girl walked all by herself. She couldn’t have been more than six. Pigtails bounced with each step she took. Little Mary Jane shoes buckled over white socks, a navy blue and white checkered dress. She looked entirely out of place in the horribly country town. An innocent little creature in a world full of wolves. And as Javi continued to watch her, slowing down to accommodate for a red light but also to keep in line with her, he saw the wolves start to come out. The little girl remained oblivious to all of it, as a child who doesn’t know the world is full of evil would. A stark contrast to a lot of the children in Colombia. 

Though she was able to continue on her way without notice of the world around her, Javi couldn’t. Not as she passed a group of boys on bikes – probably only a few years older than her – and how they tugged on her pigtails when she walked by. She waved her hands at them, brushing them out of her ringlets, the permanent smile not leaving her face for a second. The boys followed her for a few steps after she passed, probably thinking she’d pay them some attention if they teased her loud enough. But the moment they were behind her and no longer in her line of vision, it was like she had forgotten they’d ever been alive. Not once did she turn around to them, and finding this game now boring, the boys turned back and pedaled away. But those boys were the least of her worries. Sure, the boys were annoying but they proved to be no real threat. Kids didn’t carry guns here like they did in Medellín. At least, Javi didn’t think they did.

There was, however, a real threat. Or one Javi perceived to be a real threat. He doubted the little angel realized she was walking through a potential lion’s den. Now fully stopped at the red light, he kept his focus squarely on her. He didn’t want to think too hard about how useless he was while actually in his car, but regardless, he continued to watch. She skipped past a group of three men. Using the profiling skills the DEA had drilled into him, he figured these guys were around his age, though a little worse for wear. Each had a cigarette hanging from their lips and beer bellies hanging from beneath shirts. And every single one watched the little girl pass by. The conversation the men had been having stopped almost immediately, and gave way to what could best be described as ogling. Only once did one of the men manage to tear his eyes away to glance up and down the street. As if fully realizing this little angel was indeed alone they all started to chuckle.

The red light had thwarted the little girl’s advance. She reached up on tip toes and pressed her tiny fingers against the metal pedestrian button. Traffic in front of her and the group of men behind her, she was trapped in the middle. Javi almost thought he’d just continue on his way. That girl’s parents had made the decision to let their child walk alone. Prey to the world. And he had responsibilities to get through. His dad would tear him a new one if he was late. The fence had to be fixed by nightfall to keep coyotes from killing the chickens. He really thought he’d go on his way.

But they whistled at her.

And though not in the way Javi had been guilty of doing to a hooker or two, but in a way of trying to get her attention in lieu of candy. They whistled at her. And he prayed she’d continue to ignore the world around her. For just a second more.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Javi tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over his right shoulder, make sure he was in the clear, and then broke a few traffic laws to get to the curb. He threw his car in park, mumbled another profanity to himself, and got out of his car. Even breaking a few more laws to cross the street as the light turned green. But he had to get to her. Maybe to the public, he looked no better than the guys who had whistled at her. But he knew himself. He trusted himself a helluva lot more than he trusted those guys. So dodging traffic, he ran to her side of the street as the men advanced toward her. Despite the light now showing the little walking man, giving her the right of way, she didn’t move from the curb. Just stared at the street as Javi approached, “muñequita!”

The sound of his voice was enough to get the men to pivot on their heels and walk away from her. Javi was glad about that. He didn’t want to try to go up against three beer bellies. But the sound of his voice hadn’t been enough to get her attention. He tried again, now stepping up onto the curb beside her, “muñequita.”

Finally she looked at him. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted back, and big, brown, soulful eyes looked up into his. The smile still on her face. Painfully unaware of the world around her. “Muñequita, where’re you going all by yourself?”

“Home,” she lifted one hand and pointed straight ahead.

Javi looked in the direction of her hand, finding that the light had already turned red again. He reached past her and hit the metal button again. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s working!” the little voice chirped. High-pitched and very clear. Obviously, strange man, mommy is working.

“What about your dad? Where’s he?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Javi pursed his lips and nodded. He must’ve been out of the picture. Surely wasn’t the first deadbeat dad in the world. Javier crouched down, wincing, and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, muñequita. Can I drive you home?”

The little girl shook her head but the smile remained, “mommy said not to get in stranger’s cars.”

“That’s right. Your mommy’s very smart.” He looked back at the streetlight. It had turned green for them again. “Can I walk you home, then?”

She nodded enthusiastically, probably just happy to have a ‘friend’ along for the walk that she could muse too. So Javi stepped off the curb and started crossing the street. But when he looked down to ask her if she knew her address, he found that she wasn’t beside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the curb. Her arm outstretched. Her delicate little hand opening and closing in his direction. Help, help, help. He took a breath and lowered his head sheepishly, he should’ve known, and made the few steps back to her. With his hand held open, she slotted hers in it and jumped off the curb with flair, skipping along to keep up with him.

It melted his heart. This sweet, little creature. A Lamb of God. And though she wasn’t pointing a gun at his face, she reminded him a lot of that little Colombian boy in Medellín. That boy had been given a gun and left alone. Sent to do the work of a drug lord who was far too willing to sacrifice a child’s life as long as it wasn’t his own. And this one… what was to become of this angelita left alone? If the crimes he’d seen committed against children in Colombia hadn’t been bad enough, the crimes he witnessed against women had been. At that moment, looking down at the little girl, Javier only thought of Helena. He wondered where she was. Where she ended up. Had she gotten to America? Had it been kind to her?

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javi knocked on the front door and took a step back. He glanced down at the little girl, her hand still firmly gripping his. She hadn’t let go of it since they crossed the street. It also wasn’t the only thing she didn’t stop doing on the rest of the walk. She hadn’t stopped talking. About the clouds, every dog they passed, her school friends and their first grade-sized drama. He’d learned she was five and a quarter and one of the youngest in her class. Her favorite color was purple. And she liked her scooter because she was afraid of her bike.

And above all, she did not seem concerned that there was no answer at her house. Javi knocked again, but the girl pulled her hand out of his and ran back down the porch step, down the small paved path, and cut across to the lawn. Javi immediately turned and went after her, taking a couple steps in her direction before he slowed down when he saw what she had set out to do. Crouched down, singing to herself, she plucked a flower from the grass and came skipping back to him.

“Look!” She thrust the tiny flower in his direction.

He glanced at it, shifting his focus between the little, yellow flower and her. “Wow,” he feigned excitement.

She tugged on his hand again, “‘s a buttercup! Sit, I want to see if you’re good!”

Javi took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, wondering if anyone had seen him arrive with her. If they were suspicious as to what some random man was doing with a little child that wasn’t his. But she tugged on his hand again so he sat on the step and she curled in closer to him, resting her free hand on his leg.

“See!” She held the flower beneath her chin, “‘f’it glows lellow, that means you’re good!” She grinned and got impossibly closer to him. “Is it lellow?”

He ducked his head and spotted a faint colorful glow on her chin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sun was reflecting it. “Yeah, it’s yellow,”

“I’m good!” She shrieked and reached her hand towards Javi’s face, “lemme see if it’s lellow for you,”

Javier stretched his neck, raising his chin to give her access to the spot she needed for her experiment. There was a little pause, the petals brushing against the bottom of his chin as she inspected it. His eyes locked on her, watching.

“It is!”

She yanked her hand away and Javi lowered his chin, a new, wide grin spread across his face. “I’m good?” he asked, looping his arm around her back when she flung the flower away and scooted in closer to him.

The little girl nodded and opened her mouth to say something else but her attention was quickly diverted when a set of tires crackled along the gravel driveway. She hopped to her feet excitedly, but stayed planted beside Javier, her hand clutching his leg to steady herself.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Panic set in at the sight of an unknown man sitting, waiting at your house. The panic turned heart-stopping when you saw that that unknown man had his arm wrapped around your young daughter. Worse, he seemed to be smiling… beaming… at her. As if he’d found the greatest of prizes. Though his smile did vanish upon the sound of your tires crunching along the gravel driveway.

And the way you exited your car? With speed you didn’t know was in you. The story you’d heard about a mama bear instinct kicking in, in times of crisis had never exposed itself as fiercely as it did in this moment. It had only come in shades of gray before. Now it was full on technicolor. You were seeing it in living color and it felt as though you’d been removed from your body, floating above it all, getting a bird’s eye view. The way this man stood clutching onto your daughter’s hand, and the way she hesitated to obey your command to get away from him in order to give him a hug around the leg. A bitterness rose in your throat and only slightly settled when she finally bounded toward you. Still from your bird’s eye view, it was as if you watched yourself inspect her for harm done but found none. And temporarily satisfied, you suggested she carry on to the backyard. A gated safe haven and more importantly, far, far away from the strange, mustached man, staring at you both. 

She obliged, as she always did. She was an angel. And after your ex – her father – all but split at the pregnancy announcement, an angel was exactly what you needed. The expectation was never that you’d become a single parent, but you figured it was a better option than sticking around with that deadbeat. Which, as you approached the stranger on your porch, made you wonder… where was that deadbeat? It was his day to pick her up from school. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spat, now in killing distance if you so pleased to do to this guy. “So help me, I will cut off your dick and balls, put it on a pike, and march it through town! She’s five for fuck’s sake!”

Javi to his credit, not particularly known for his abundant patience, didn’t yell back. Didn’t fly off the handle in a fit of anger. Didn’t even let his expression show the slightest hint of sorrow. In fact, he had a smile on his face. And if that didn’t piss you the hell off even more. 

“Is this your thing? You follow a little girl home, scoop her up, and poof! She vanishes. You fuck right off.”

Smile still plastered on his face, clearly finding some form of enjoyment from this spectacle you were putting on. But when the rampage simmered down, awaiting an answer, he lifted his hand, palm turned upward in an invitation to embrace yours, and grinned a little wider, “Javier Peña, DEA.”

You scoffed, staring his hand down and crossing your arms over your chest, “you think it’s better that you’re a cop? One bad apple…”

He rested his hands on his hips, “technically a Fed. For drug enforcement. And as far as I know, she didn’t have any coke-laced lollipops on her.”

You opened your mouth for another smart response, anything to show that you had the upper hand here. Concerning your kin. On your property. But Javi took a step forward, effectively forcing you back off the singular porch step, and there he stood towering over you, on the high ground. Though he would’ve towered over you anyway, even had you been on equal footing.

“If I were a cop, I’d be lecturin’ you about how it’s irresponsible to let your child walk home alone. And worse that she’s only five, as you so generously pointed out. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, you need to be worryin’ about the fuckin’ group of men whistling at her. Tryna get her attention.” He stepped off the porch, now on even ground with you, and just as suspected, he towered over you. Broad shoulders straining against a button-down cotton shirt, square jaw and strong nose to boot. “You don’t have to believe this, but I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life today. ‘cause in my line of work, I have seen kids go poof. And for the little girls, they’re lucky if they go poof. It’s usually a helluva lot better than the alternative,”

Despite the height difference, you stepped closer, coming face to chest. Doing your best threatening glare. “If I see you around my daughter again, I will parade your severed penis around town like it’s a fourth of July float. Do not fucking try me, Javier Peña,”

It wasn’t until you let yourself inside the house and slammed the door behind you, that the smile returned to Javi’s face and he crossed through the front yard to get back to the sidewalk. While talk about one’s severed penis was rarely a reason to smile, it was one of the least violent things that he’d been threatened with and he figured that sort of punishment was far better than the kind that he’d watched Los Pepes commit in Colombia. And, yes, the cause had been just – in the effort to take down Pablo Escobar. But he knew the ease with which Los Pepes murdered sicarios in Medellín would one day be turned against him. They would have found a justification for his murder. And that, mixed with the fact that what he was doing was definitely illegal, was the reason he was back in Laredo. And the reason he’d been able to keep the muñequita safe today. 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

He knew he wouldn’t make it to Chucho’s ranch before sundown. No chance. And his dad, also not particularly known for his patience (at least where it concerned his son), wasn’t bound to be too pleased about his son’s absence today. Hopefully he’d managed to fix the fence without him.

Javier’s suspicions proved to be correct when he pulled up his father’s long, dirt driveway and came upon the main house just as Chucho and his longtime ranch hand, Pancho, were stepping out the front door. For the second time that day, Javi found himself murmuring, “fuck,” beneath his breath.

Headlights illuminated the two older gentlemen, who still donned their boots, cowboy hats, and dusty jeans from their laborious day. Javi threw the car in park nearly before he hit the brakes, surely stripping the gears, and hopped out of the cab, ready to plead his case.

Chucho held up his hand. The wrinkles etched deep in his skin after decades of hard work in the sun. “No mames!” He shook his head and muttered to himself, “pinche naco. You owe Pancho a couple beers.” The elder Peña rounded to the driver side of his truck with Pancho letting himself into the passenger side. But before he fully entered the cab, Chucho looked back at Javi with a shout, “meet us at the Tack Room!”

The Tack Room. One of a handful of watering holes in town that boasted a kitschy barn theme. But it had the distinction of being the only one that was actually in an old barn. It had been transformed into the bar in Chucho’s young adulthood, and it had been his go-to place ever since Javier could remember. It was nothing fancy. Just a small town dive. Truly a place for locals though it wasn’t as if Laredo had much tourist appeal. Drinks were cheap. Domestic beers hovered around a buck. The food was greasy. Perfect for soaking up the alcohol already consumed and making patrons believe they could tolerate more. To Chucho it was home away from home, and to Javier, it was the place he’d gotten hooked on cigarettes. And places like it had been the reason he’d been so keen on leaving town as soon as he could. In a town as small as this, the local dives harbored three types of people:

The townsfolk who gossiped and got into everyone’s business.

The rancheros who never thought about leaving town.

And the deadbeats who never even tried.

And he’d gone to school with a lot of those in column number three. It was the bubble. People settled down here with jobs that barely paid the bills. They got married and started families. Those kids grew up, and never having the care, ambition, or opportunity to venture outside of southern Texas, stayed put. They fell in line with the work they’d watched their parents do and eventually started having babies of their own. And the cycle continued. All Javier knew was he had to get the hell out of there. So he did… despite the lump of guilt in his stomach about leaving his aging father behind. And when leaving brought him all the way to Colombia, Javi never thought he’d step foot in The Tack Room ever again.

It never failed to smell like sweat, burnt oil, and sawdust. A unique odor that all but singed his nose hairs and left him thinking his sense of smell would forever be compromised. The taste of Tecate didn’t even help. Not even the second one they were all on.

“Did you get the fence up, dad?” Javier asked, side-eyeing the girls at the next table over. If they weren’t old classmates or old girlfriends, he’d have a chance at warming up his bed tonight. They both looked like strangers to him. He could take his pick… or perhaps get both.

“No thanks to you, pendejo.”

“Alright, pop,” He took another sip from his pint glass. “I said I was sorry. I got held up, what do you want from me?”

Chucho lifted his cowboy hat off his head and smoothed out his hair before placing the hat back on. “Don’t think askin’ my son to stick to his word is too much. Instead Pancho has to help and his back’s–” Chucho interrupted himself. Then, looking past his son, and with a tone that dripped soft saccharine, “hola, chiquita!”

“Hola, Chucho!”

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

The day hadn’t been great to say the least. No day in Laredo was great but thanks to a deadbeat baby daddy and an even deader-beat judge, it was where you were holed up. Traded in San Antonio for it and cursed yourself everyday. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t any getting out of Laredo. Not for you. Not for any of the townies you’d come to recognize. Everyone just stayed put. The reason as to why hadn’t yet revealed itself. There wasn’t anything great in Laredo.

Well maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

A deadbeat baby daddy for an ex was the reason you were here but without him you wouldn’t have had actual sunshine for a daughter. How she ended up like that while being genetically half of him, you’d never know. But if having chosen a different guy meant you’d never had her, it’s a mistake you would’ve made over and over and over again. She was just about the greatest thing ever planted on God’s green earth. 

And your job wasn’t so bad. Your first job, at least. There was some sort of cruel irony that job number one was as a clerk in the same courthouse where that deadbeat judge had told you it’d be “beneficial for the girl to grow up around her father”. He obviously didn’t know, or care to learn, just how terrible that guy was. Truthfully anyone – literally anyone – would be better off not being around him. But clerking was a job nonetheless. One with a steady schedule and pay. Easy to plan life around. Not like the second job. 

Very few good arguments could be made for The Tack Room. And even less for being a bartender there. Originally you thought a small town bar only full of locals meant that everyone would treat you kindly. But you learned people were pretty much dicks anywhere you went in the world. See, a small town bar full of locals meant that the patrons started to get a little too comfortable. And since no respectable woman would be caught dead drinking at The Tack Room, it meant the place was full with large, aggressively masculine men, who’d spent the day working in the sun or bumming it on the couch while their woman brought everything to the table. And those large, aggressively masculine men, when given liquid courage, started to think they were God’s gift to humanity. Glorified machines to move their penises from one room to another. A normal shift meant being catcalled, grabbed, hugged, or pinched more times than you had fingers. The other girls blushed and cowered and took that behavior. They were raised here – worse, they’d known some of the older men who were now pinching their asses, as children. 

Not you. You could thank your deadbeat ex for that. No man was ever going to lay a hand on you like that again.

“Hola chiquita!” The soundwaves drifted in your direction, wrapping the sing-song lilt around your atmosphere, and settling warm in your chest.

Actually, there was one good thing about The Tack Room. Chucho Peña. A quiet, aging gentleman from a bygone era; he was an unforeseen light. He’d liked you since the day he met you a year or so back, here at the bar. First shift, carrying a tray of empty beer bottles, Pepe Hernandez (that asshole) grabbed you by the back pocket of your jeans, pulled you back into him until you were seated in his lap and while he thought he was hung like a horse, you realized he was working with a chode. You told him as such – something mean and cutting since he’d already been rude with you – and instead of quietly nursing his bruised ego, he cocked a fist back and tried to take a swing.

Another thing to thank your deadbeat ex for. He taught you that fists were fast but your reflexes could be faster. You dropped the tray, beer bottles crashing to the sawdust floor, and dodged his hand. He may’ve missed but you never did. Landed one punch straight to his nose. With the commotion, you could hear your boss rumbling, coming out from the kitchen to see what the matter was. And before you knew it your little unforeseen light, Chucho Peña, was beside you. He nudged you out of the way and stood over Pepe.

Your eyes widened at Chucho, but your boss arrived at the scene you’d created but Chucho was taking credit for. He wanted to holler and cuss someone out. Crack some skulls for causing a ruckus. But finding Chucho (who, you’d later found out, had given your now boss his first ranching job as a teenager), your boss backed down and kicked Pepe out.

That first night, Chucho had given you his classic Peña wink and introduced himself. He didn’t like men around acting like fools and making his beer taste bad. But he liked you. Liked your grit. Your guts. And maybe because he knew you could rip him apart, he always treated you extra nice. To make up for the fact that no one else did.

“Hola, Chucho!” You yelled back over the noise of the bar.

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

You handed your purse to the bartendress behind the already crowded bar and got an apron from her in return. Wrapped it around your waist and tied it tightly around your waist on your way over to the table Chucho and Pancho were sitting at. Chucho had mentioned his son only a couple times in passing. You got the sense it was a sensitive subject and never cared to pry too much. 

But this son… your blood ran cold at the sight of him. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, clean shaven save for the mustache…

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Out of all the faces he imagined coming up to the table per his father’s offering, he never guessed it’d be you. And that fact made a little chuckle erupt from his throat when he held out his hand for an introduction you didn’t need.

“Hey, chiquita,” he smirked, all charm and nerve. Even more pleased with himself when you shoved your hand into his and told him your actual name.

But less pleased after you practically ignored him after that. Only spent a couple minutes making small talk with Chucho, trying to remain polite despite wanting to get the fuck away from his son. Maybe one day you’d fill the elder Peña in on how his son was caught with a five year old.

After you politely excused yourself from the table so you could get to work, and Javier realized he’d been practically silent the entire time, he glanced at his dad and found him gearing up for a ribbing.

“Didn’t you used to have game with the ladies?” Chucho grinned and took a sip of his beer.

“She’s not my type,” Javi grumbled.

“Ah ha. You mean she’d take a bit of work,” Chucho nodded, easing his cowboy hat back out of his eyes. “Son, it’s the women like that, that you gotta hold on to,”

Javi shook his head absently, trying to write off his dad’s comments. But he still spent the rest of the night glancing back at the bar every now and again to get a glimpse of you. He wondered how much “work” it’d take him until you bent for him just like every other woman. To his dismay, you didn’t come back to the table the rest of the night. Instead, another waitress made the rounds and filled up the beers. She didn’t seem to have any problem with him. She’d be an easy one to get. But his dad’s words rang in his ears, and despite the waitress putting in a mighty effort to get his attention, he just kept looking back at you.

Until about midnight when he needed to close out. That waitress had stopped coming around when Chucho and Pancho left and she realized she wasn’t going to get any attention from him. He stood from the table and wandered over to the bar, pulling his leather billfold out of his wallet. Foot propped up on the kick step beneath the bar, and forearms on the wood bar top, he smiled when you made eye contact with him, practically forced to help him.

“Closing out?” you asked, noncommittally. 

He nodded affirmatively, waiting until you were back in front of him with the printed tab before he asked, “who’s watchin’ your kid now?”

And you could deck him. Really could. Put some serious thought into it. But he seemed to catch on that his little joke wasn’t too funny.

“Sorry,” he bowed and slid his credit card over to you.

You ran his card, taking deep breaths so that when you turned around to face him, you wouldn’t be seeing complete red. It worked just a bit, and when you turned to hand the bill back to him, you only saw shades of dark pink. “Chucho never mentioned his son was DEA. Sounds like a lie,”

Javier smiled again. While he slid his credit card back into his wallet, he simultaneously slid out the badge that got him into the local office. Presenting it to you and adding the same blank expression on his face as his picture on the badge, he figured you believed him.

“She talked about you all day,” you shook your head and ran a towel over the bar to wipe away lingering condensation. It gave you something to do other than get lost in his eyes. “The buttercups told her you were good,”

“Not sure who taught her that, but buttercups aren’t very good judges of character,”

“I did,”

He pressed his lips together and leaned a little closer to the bar. “Well, they’re not. But they didn’t lie,”

You nodded, relenting. “Then I guess I should thank you. And apologize for that stuff about severing your penis and marching it through town,”

“Trust me, I’m sure you’re not the only woman in Laredo interested in separating me from my penis,”

“It does some damage, doesn’t it?”

A flush worked its way up to Javi’s cheeks and he laughed softly. He figured he’d let that one go without response. Your brain could imagine for itself what kind of damage he could do.

“I’m off in a half hour. If you stick around, I can show you how sorry I am,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Maybe this not so great day was turning around. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you were currently seated on Javi’s lap in the passenger seat of your car, knees planted on either side of his waist, pressing against the coarse seat fabric. Tight t-shirt pushed up as far as it would go with your arms still in the sleeves. High enough for your breasts to be exposed; lace bra hiding the last bit of skin you had to offer. His hands had a crushing hold on your hips, rocking your body along his length. He was perpetually bottomed out, the lack of space giving no chance for reprieve. You brought one hand to the back of his neck while the other flung up and pressed against the roof of the car, trying to keep yourself down despite your body involuntarily inching away from him. Not that the confines of the space, or his grip on you, would let you get too far.

“C’mon, give it to me,” he growled with a labored breath.

A moan ripped through your chest and throat. Thighs quivered around Javi’s hips, which he undoubtedly felt because a chuckle rumbled past his lips and into the space between you both. You lowered your head, looking down into his eyes which were already boring into your soul.

“Already?”

“Shut up, Peña,”

He snapped his hips upward, where the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, searching for entry into a depth your body couldn’t accommodate. But entry wasn’t the ultimate goal, it was just to prove to you that he could. So he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you pinned to him where every movement of your body on his created friction against your clit. 

“Javi, querida. It’s Javi,”

Your head lolled forward and tucked into his neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses. Despite you being on top of him, he seemed to be everywhere. His body encompassed yours like a weighted blanket. Arms snaked around you to keep you close, as if you had any intention of furthering yourself from the pleasure he was giving you. “Javi,” his name lingered on your lips, singing two syllables that had never sounded so sweet. “I’m gonna come,” you gasped into his neck, closing your mouth and suckling gently on his skin.

He smiled and licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of your mouth on his neck. Anything to not give in to the feeling of your anatomy squeezing him within an inch of his life. He didn’t need you to tell him you were close; he could tell. “I feel it. Feel you pulling me deeper,” he lowered his head closer to your ear, his arm doing most of the work to keep your body in its steady rhythm, thrusting along him. “Go on, soak me. Give me your best,”

“Javi, Javi,” you panted. Then quickly, your head was pulled away from his neck. Both his hands cupped around your cheeks, forcing you to look down into his heads. 

You tried to lose the eye contact by squeezing your eyes shut, but Javi shook you to attention. “Let me see those eyes when you come all over me,”

Eyes snapped open, pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. Javi lifted his hips to meet the shifting of your body and that’s when you went rigid. Hands curling into fists and shaking. Your body jerked on top of him, an otherworldly cry erupting through you. He held on tight, leaning over and biting into your shoulder as you continued to tremble through your high. The breath hitched in your throat and it took a few seconds before a new deep lungful air entered your body. By that point, Javier was flexing and shaking beneath you.

“Where–shit–”

He knew you heard him too late. No doubt the throbbing of the pulse in your ears had blocked off the rest of the world. Unable to hear anything over the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins and the shattered cry coming out of your throat. So that by the time you did hear his question, it was too late. And Javi, just as he wasn’t known for his patience, also wasn’t known for his restraint – and yet somehow had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to physically lift you off his member just seconds before he came with a groan; thick spend coating his stomach.

You stared at it, watching the droplets create a line down toward the base of his cock, slaves to gravity. Only when he wrapped a large paw over your thigh and gave it a squeeze, did you blink and look back into his eyes.

“Good?” He asked in the same moment you leaned forward, finding himself face first in your breasts, “hello,” he smirked against your skin and bit into the fleshy mounds.

You squealed, searching blindly in the backseat with your hand before your fingertips found what they’d be looking for. And pulling back, with your free hand latching onto Javi’s hair and giving it a playful tug, you produced a Polaroid camera.

“‘S’that for?” he cocked his head to the side. 

But you didn’t answer him. Just quickly held it up to your eye, peered through the viewfinder and snapped the photo.

“Hey!” He snatched the photo away as it printed, currently just a gray square, waiting for the final image to appear. “What is this? Blackmail? You take pictures of all your conquests,”

You laughed and grabbed the photo right back, placing it in your bra and lowering your shirt. “You’re not that special, Peña,” 

Leaning back while still on his lap to create more distance for the camera, you held it back up to your eye and inspected the frame. This time his face didn’t make the cut, but his chest, down to his stomach still donning his come with his member laid back against it did. Along with your bare thighs straddling him, one of his hands still had real estate on your skin. You snapped that picture, too, and flipped it over to its blank side. With a pen in the center console courtesy of The Tack Room, you wrote your number and handed the picture to Javi.  He was out of your car before the thing had even finished developing. And in the darkness of the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see the image even if it had been. A cigarette was in his mouth by the time you peeled out of the lot, and his nerves were settling with the overhead lights in his car flicking on. That was when he saw just what you’d snapped the second time. Two bodies. Anonymous. His cock rested limp against his stomach. Your legs secured around his hips. And a phone number on the back with the instruction, call me, Peña.

[ticklishfiend]

Built To Laugh (Good Omens)

(Lee!Crowley, Ler!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale has been laughing at Crowley all day. Maybe it’s the demon’s turn to laugh for a change?

A/N : this fic takes place after s1 but before s2! so obvs no spoilers for s2 here 😁 i also have not gotten my laptop fixed unfortunately so if there’s any errors it’s prbly cause i wrote this on my phone which i’m Not used to LOL

Word Count : 3304

hope u enjoy!! :)

. . .

When Aziraphale gets in these moods, Crowley can’t help but smile. Well, internally smile. He sorta prides himself on the air of mystery that surrounds his emotions. So he bites his tongue as Aziraphale giggles at him, laughing at how utterly annoyed Crowley looks by his antics.

Aziraphale had found an old joke book in the shop. Well, not really old, when in the hands of beings that have existed since the literal dawn of time. Actually, it couldn’t have been published more than 30 years ago. But it was old in the sense that Aziraphale hadn’t touched it since it had been brought in all those years ago.

Aziraphale told a vague story to Crowley about how it had landed in his possession (this was, of course, after telling him a truly horrible knock-knock joke that Crowley demanded an explanation for why he was being tortured so unjustly). But that story doesn’t matter anymore. What does matter is how giggly Aziraphale has become since realizing how irritating this all was to Crowley.

“Blehck, HORRIBLE, just fffffucking—You’re the angel, I’m the one supposed to be torturing you right now,” said Crowley, exaggerating his hatred of dad jokes just a bit (not by much, these jokes truly were horrible) just to see Aziraphale do that thing when he giggles, covering his mouth and clutching that wretched joke book.

“That was a really bad one, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale said once he collected himself.

“Yes, yes, it was, now will you please stop before I groan myself to death?”

“Always with the dramatics, you are,” said Aziraphale, before grinning, “Just one more?”

Crowley grimaced. “Grk…for the road, I suppose.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, for the road!” He stuck his nose right back into the book, and it wouldn’t be such an unfamiliar sight if he hadn’t been looking up at Crowley every other second just to watch the demon stir.

When Crowley heard a gasp from Aziraphale, he knew he’d found his grand finale. Maybe he’d saved the best for last? (And in the angel’s opinion, he had. Just not in Crowley’s favor.)

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Get on with it.”

“Yes, but are you ready ready?”

Crowley stuck an eyebrow up. Aziraphale just kept smiling. ‘He really is in the best mood today, isn’t he?’ Crowley thought.

“Crowley, do tell me…when is a door not a door?” His cheeks were plump with the force of his giddy smile.

Crowley blinked. His arms were crossed, laying back lazily against the bookshop’s old cushion chair. He tapped his finger against his arm impatiently.

Of course, this just made Aziraphale smile bigger.

“Come on! You have to play along, it’s part of the fun!”

“For you, angel, part of the fun for you.”

“Maybe you’ll start having fun too if you work with me here.”

“You’re working me, that’s what’s happening right now.”

“Just ask and this will all be over with,” Aziraphale raised his brows for a moment like he does when he gets all smug and silly. Crowley had to bite his tongue not to smile at that.

“Ffffffine,” Crowley sighed hard in feigned exasperation. “Well, I just don’t know, angel! When would a door not be a door? Seems like a paradox to me!”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “When it’s ajar!”

Crowley could only stare blankly at the tittering angel before him. It was a bit hard to conceal his own giggles as Aziraphale burst into laughter seeing Crowley’s unamused expression. But he held steadfast, refusing even the slightest chortle. Crowley hadn’t seen Aziraphale laugh like this in what felt like a millennia.

“You’re a silly one, Aziraphale. A real splinter in my ass.”

Crowley hadn’t seen a more angelic sight in so long. He felt his own face grow warm watching as Aziraphale tried collecting himself, but found he’d been caught back in his deadly case of the giggles. It was just precious.

“You think you’re a real comedian, don’t you?” Crowley said while trying to cover his own smile slyly, elbow now propped on the arm of the chair as he pushed his face into his hand. He tried looking as annoyed as possible.

Soon, Aziraphale caught his breath, a stray giggle leaving every few moments despite himself. They were now staring at each other, both too lost in the moment to think too hard on the implications of it.

But, as it usually goes in moments like this, Aziraphale put the brakes on first. He sat the book on the side table next to him before pushing himself off the chair. “Well, that was rather fun. But I do have some paperwork to fill out regarding the shop. Upstairs always feels the need to know how it’s running,” He gave Crowley an empathetic smile that almost said ‘It did feel good, but you know it can’t last.’ At least, that’s how Crowley interprets it. It’s the same smile he’s been giving him all these years, after every little moment the two shared.

It wasn’t the type of smile Crowley wishes to see on Aziraphale. He rather liked the real ones, with Aziraphale’s round cheeks going pink, the ones with the little lines appearing next to his squinted eyes. Those made him feel warm. This smile always feels distant…more cold.

“Yes well…guess I should be goin’ then, wouldn’t want to distract you from your heavenly duties,” Crowley made his voice go all funny on the last words, almost snarling. Maybe he was trying to make Aziraphale laugh. If he had been, it didn’t work.

“Oh you’re more than welcome to stay! I do believe I have some wine left over from last time, if you want to get started before…well, I thought I could maybe join you after I’m finished,” Aziraphale looked bashful. Apologetic, almost. But he chippered up quickly, pointing a finger to the sky. “Heavenly duties!” He repeated the demon’s words with a hummed chuckle, before retreating away to his study.

He’s always been like this. Leaving before Crowley could accept, so once Aziraphale returned from work it’s like it was entirely Crowley’s decision rather he’d stay or not. Like Aziraphale hadn’t offered in the first place. But that was fine with Crowley. Because even if Aziraphale pretended it hadn’t happened, they both knew it had, and there was a silent agreement between them to not bring it up.

So Crowley did wait in that back room of the shop, where all the giggles and jokes and flirtatious annoyance had grown that lovely tension to start the evening off right once Aziraphale returned.

He didn’t, however, start drinking yet. Crowley rather liked to start sober when they drank together. That way it felt more like an activity they were starting together rather than one Aziraphale was just joining him on.

It was around two hours Aziraphale worked before returning. He walked into the back, giving a surprised smile seeing Crowley had indeed waited for him.

“Ah, you grabbed the good bottle, I see,” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers in the air like one would before diving into a slice of cake. He noticed the bottle had been unopened, and did not mention it.

“Dunno, seems a good night for it,” Crowley popped the cork out with ease, filling one glass he’d brought in for Aziraphale before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Oh? And why is that?” Aziraphale sat on his preferred chair before taking the glass and sipping in a dignified manner.

Crowley wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You just seemed in a good mood today s’all. Figured we could end the night right, proper wine to get your mind out of all that blasted paper.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I was in rather high spirits earlier. I don’t know what it was about all those jokes, but at the moment they really tickled my funny bone,” Aziraphale took a sip and hummed delightedly.

“Right tickled you were. Could hardly catch your breath, and they weren’t even funny jokes, angel. Really, I’ve got to introduce you to some actual comedians cause it was just a sad display of your humor.”

Aziraphale looked into the glass, swirling his wine. He gave a shy smile without looking up at Crowley. “Maybe it was partly so funny because you just seemed so…agitated by it all.”

Crowley’s eyes widened a bit, surprised Aziraphale actually admitted to it. He couldn’t hold back a smile anymore, and he’d blame the wine for it if you asked. “Oh so I’m what got you all giggly earlier?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but he too couldn’t keep a smile off his face if he tried. He’d also blame the wine. “Oh hush, you wily serpent. It was just funny seeing you so irritated at simple jokes.”

“Nah nah, we’re not moving past this. You think I’m funny!”

“I never said that. If you must know I was…laughing at your expense,” Aziraphale hid his mischievous smile behind the glass as he took a sip.

Crowley gaped in amused disbelief. “So you were making fun of me then? Right, okay, I see how it is-”

“Well it’s a little hard not to when you have such a silly reaction to it!” Aziraphale gestured his free hand towards Crowley as if to say he’s doing it right now.

“Silly reaction? Whaddya mean silly reaction, all my reactions are perfectly rational and mean-spirited and never, never silly,” he growled the word as if to prove his point, but he only succeeded in making Aziraphale giggle again. He turned his head to hide his smile.

Aziraphale took a quiet sip from his glass again, his eyes peering over the edge to look at Crowley. Once he put the glass back in his lap, he said, “I rather like when you’re silly, darling.”

Crowley blushed deep. Darling? He—Aziraphale rarely ever used the word darling. But every time he’s done it these 6000 years (which, again, hadn’t been too often) it sent something wicked through Crowley’s system.

Crowley changed the topic quickly. If he didn’t, he’d probably combust from having to think too hard about what all that meant, and if it meant anything at all.

So they talked for a while. About nonsense, mostly. Just jabber to fill the silence and let out all the thoughts they’d been thinking and waiting to share with the other. They’d both grown just a tad tipsy at this point, and Crowley was almost ready to grab another bottle.

Mainly because he wanted to steer back to their first topic again.

“Yknow I was just thinkin’…you said you, er—that you like when I’m silly, or whatever it was you said. And I…well, I rather like it when you laugh. Has that, er…angelic quality to it. But not in a bad way, I suppose.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s literally in your DNA, if we even have that. Do angels and demons have DNA? I suppose not, but I mean something’s gotta compose all that’s happening here, physically I mean,” Crowley rambled, now definitely tipsy. He took another swig. “But, yeah like, there’s literally that saying, ‘angelic laughter.’ It’s all up in you, you’re built to have a good laugh.”

“Yes, maybe so. But you have a nice laugh, Crowley! So it can’t all be angelic,” said Aziraphale.

“I do not have a nice laugh. You may have angelic laughter, but I’ve got a demonic cackle. Very different things,” Crowley could feel himself blush, but it was all thanks to the wine. Most definitely.

“I have heard you laugh on many occasions, and in none of them would I describe it as a demonic cackle. If anything you’re more of a giggler,” Aziraphale reached his glass out to Crowley, and through instinct he filled it for him.

“We are not doing this, I refuse to have this argument,” Crowley said before arguing, “Giggling is not something I am even capable of. Not in my DNA.”

“I thought you established we don’t have DNA?”

“Point stands, it’s not in my bones. Giggling is-is-it’s, well— it’s childish, for one, and children aren’t typically seen as demonic.”

“After helping raise Warlock I’d beg to differ, and he wasn’t even the Anti-Christ we thought he was-“

“STILL, angel, still! Point stands, not going back on it. Let’s change the subject, let’s talk about-about dolphins or some nonsense, I don’t really care-“

Aziraphale stood from his chair, and Crowley shut up. He sat next to Crowley on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Crowley’s voice was low and suspicious. Aziraphale sat his glass on the table, even going so far as to take the bottle from Crowley’s hand to do the same. Crowley let him, of course, but not without raising an eyebrow. “I said, what are you doing?”

“I’m glad you’ve taken that leather coat off, or this would be a much harder ordeal than it needs to be,” Aziraphale said before cracking his knuckles dramatically, waving his hands about as if to loosen them. Crowley’s brows were furrowed and eyes wide.

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Crowley leaned back against the couch, as if to say ‘nope, this isn’t affecting me at all, I’m not the least bit nervous about whatever it is you’re planning right now. I am the image of relaxed.’ His leg was bouncing.

“Well, you claim that you don’t giggle. I want to counter that argument, and I know exactly how to do it,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a devious smile, one an angel shouldn’t be allowed to pull, before wiggling his fingers in the air towards Crowley. Crowley immediately backed his body away, only getting as far as the arm of the couch.

“No, no—you cannot—this is not the direction I’m letting this conversation go!” Crowley held his hands up defensively, curling his legs into himself like the snake he was.

“Come now, you can’t handle a little friendly competition?”

“Hell do you mean competition?! You tickle me, I lose, there’s no competition to be had!” Crowley practically shouted, his nerves taking over.

Crowley had always been on the more…sensitive side, one might say. It was something Aziraphale always found a little too amusing. “You’re a demon!” He’d say, “It’s just so silly how a demon could be as ticklish as you are!”

Crowley did not find it silly. In fact, he found it to be quite the pain in his ass. How was he supposed to look all scary and menacing and demonic when pinching his belly made him fall into laughter so unlike him?

“So you admit you would giggle if I tickled you?”

“When did I ever say that?” Crowley was trying to shove Aziraphale away with his feet now, kicking (maybe too softly) at his thighs like it would do a thing. Aziraphale held his ground like a solid rock.

“Well you said you’d lose! So obviously that means you would giggle if I were to, say…” Aziraphale quickly grabbed hold of one of Crowley’s pestering ankles, scribbling his nails into the socked sole.

“GAHK! NO-!” Crowley shouted, thinking maybe if he expelled his energy through loud sound he might not fall into those giggles Aziraphale apparently thought so much of.

But he didn’t hold strong for long. Luckily, though, his feet were a little too ticklish for mere giggles. Instead, he cackled like no one’s business, so maybe he would win this argument after all.

“Stop! Ahahangel stop! I’ll kick you!” Crowley barked out through roaring laughter. He actually was already kicking Aziraphale, but it was still at his thighs like before. He was just worried he’d eventually nail the angel right in the nose if he kept up with it.

“Well, you aren’t exactly giggling, but maybe it’s just because your feet are too ticklish,” Aziraphale inquired like a scientist running a study. Crowley wrapped his arms around his midsection through his laughter.

“Yehehes they ARE! Now quihihit!” Crowley couldn’t take tickling on his feet for too long, it really was too horrible to bear. Curse this wretched vessel and its terrifyingly sensitive nerve endings.

Without saying a word, Aziraphale darted his hands to the spot just above Crowley’s knees, giving them quick pinches and observing Crowley like a specimen.

“Ohoho nohoho! Angel plehehease!” Crowley felt his resolve slipping, falling into a more giggly realm than before. He gripped onto Aziraphale’s wrists like a lifeline, not shoving him away out of pure trust. Goodness, feelings were a curse.

“Aha! I believe I’ve found quite the giggly spot on you, Anthony!” Aziraphale teased. He only ever used that name when he was trying to get under Crowley’s skin, and damn it if it wasn’t working.

Crowley hated how quickly his face began to flame, a small blink-and-you-miss-it whine slipping from his lips. “You cahahan’t do this to mehehe!” He playfully swat at the hands tickling his knees, rolling over like it’d deter his situation at all. “I’m druhuhunk you bahastard!”

“Yes yes, drunk and oh so giggly,” Aziraphale reiterated, really driving it home how he’d won their little argument. “But it’s so divine hearing you like this, I really don’t want to stop.”

God, Satan, someone help him. Not because Crowley needs the saving, but because now he’s not sure he wants to be saved.

“Ehehevil! Wrehehetched angel!” Crowley giggled, before letting out a very undemonic squeak as fingers began pinching up and down his sides. Aziraphale was practically hovering over him now, and if Crowley’s face wasn’t warm before, it was searing hot now.

“Nohohoho!” Crowley swat at Aziraphale’s hands and arms, squirming from side to side and his midsection was attacked viciously by angelicly gentle fingers.

“Why not, Crowley?” Aziraphale pinched Crowley’s lower ribs, a killer spot on the demon he was very familiar with.

“Behehecause!” Crowley had no good retort in his giggly state, head swarming with endorphins.

“Because why?” Aziraphale was mean when he was in these moods.

“You bahahastard!” Crowley flopped to one side just to protect half of himself (and also to hide his face in the back of the couch), now letting Aziraphale play with his open side like a grand piano. It was miserably fun.

Crowley let Aziraphale play with his ribs for a solid two minutes, giggling his head off into the cushion, before finally having enough and grabbing Aziraphale’s wrists for real this time.

He panted, still hiding his face in the couch. “You…are without a doubt, the most evil angel to ever be created. Just…just deplorable.”

“Oh come on. You can’t say you didn’t have a little fun,” Aziraphale spoke softly, still tipsy and stroking Crowley’s arm like it was second nature.

“I absolutely can say that, actually. Wouldn’t—wouldn’t exactly qualify bein’ tortured as my favorite pastime,” Crowley curled in on himself, if only to hide his lingering smile.

“Always so dramatic,” said Aziraphal before giving Crowley a pat and raising himself off the sofa. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could certainly do with some more wine, and we’re just about empty. I’ll be back in a moment, dear.”

Aziraphale once again left the room, leaving Crowley to lie on his back and ponder. Thoughts of how silly that situation was, imagine one of the higher ups seeing him in that kind of state. It’d be to the pit for Crowley in an instant. Well, if he still worked for them that is.

Also, Aziraphale had been really pulling him around all day, hadn’t he? Laughing at his expense, tickling the daylights out of him when he’s utterly inebriated. Well, that just won’t do. Won’t do at all.

An angel doesn’t get to just play with a demon all he likes and expect no repercussions.

Crowley pondered some more on that. Just thoughts of revenge and a devilishly ticklish angel he can’t wait to get his hands on.

. . .

a/n : hope u liked it!! thankfully not as sad as my last one i couldn’t take more angst LMAO

[riitah]

[to be a sorcerer] - geto suguru x gn!reader

WARNINGS: hidden inventory arc spoilers, mentions of death, blood, guns, fighting, and implied starvation, a little cursing SYNOPSIS: ever since the day suguru and satoru came back from their mission to retrieve the girl who was to merge with tengen, suguru has been kind of…off. so tonight, you decide to go visit him in the middle of the night in hopes of getting some answers, or, at least, bringing him some comfort. WORD COUNT: 1.1k HONORABLE MENTION: tysm beta reader “henry rumpelstiltskin III of the nuclear sock kingdom”!! AUTHOR��S NOTE: guys i’m so sorry i haven’t updated in so long writer’s block has been ERYGIUHOJWQEHRUR i hope you guys enjoy this AND OH YEAH THE NEW S2 TRAILER CAME OUT I’M LIKE SO HYPED FOR IT i literally had a whole pre-written s2 first trailer (a/n) i wanted to post but that was way too long ago but anyways here’s a geto x reader story i have sm more BUT IDK HOW TO WRITE THEM including crying scenes FUCK yk i feel like geto’s the type of guy who’d comfort people when they’re crying but never let anyone see him cry but when he cries it’s just really messy and emotionfull you get what i’m saying?? like he holds in his feelings for so long it just comes out all at once and ok i’ll stop now sorry if this feels a little too ooc

You stood in front of Suguru’s door in your pajamas, wondering if this was a good idea.

Is he already asleep…?

You turned to go back to your own room, but upon remembering the few bites he had taken of his lunch the past week, you decided against it. Hesitantly, you knocked, the sound of your knuckles against the wood echoing through the hallways. “Suguru? Can I come in?”

A beat of silence. “One second.” The sound of a bed creaking followed his voice, and just a few moments later, the door opened with a small creak.

Unfortunately, the sight of your boyfriend didn’t make you feel any more relieved. His hair framed his face messily, but they didn’t cover up the dark circles or hide the hollowness of his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved upwards when he saw you, but the smile never reached his eyes.

“(Y/N).” He stepped aside to let you in. “Staying up so late isn’t good for you, you know?”

“I could say the same about you.” You stepped into his dorm and he closed the door behind him. “It’s 2AM, and you have to go on a mission in a few hours.”

“I didn’t feel too sleepy.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, your eyebrows knitting together when you realized just how bony it felt. “And the rain wasn’t helping much. But now that you’re here, it’s a different story.” He led you to his bed and lied down, pulling you onto his chest in the process.

“Suguru! Warn me before you do that next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, because I‘m not letting go of you.” He rolled over so that the two of you were lying on your sides, wrapping his arms around you. “Ever.”

“I think you’re hanging around Satoru too much. You’re speaking and acting like him.” You laughed when he made a face at that statement.

“Don’t compare me to that guy.”

“Just ‘that guy’? He’d be so hurt if he heard you say that.”

“You know what I mean.” He pinched your cheek and gently rested his forehead against yours. “So, did you need something?”

“What, I can’t come visit my own boyfriend without a reason anymore?”

“Not when it’s two in the morning. But I might reconsider if you’re planning to stay the night.”

“Will that make you feel better?”

“Definitely. Though I feel just fine.”

“You don’t look fine…”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, pulling you closer to him and planting a brief kiss on your nose. “Really.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. You haven’t been getting much sleep, have you?”

He stared at you for a few moments, and the pitter-patter of the rain filled in the silence that had fallen over the conversation.

“...”

“Suguru…”

He then let out a tired sigh, his arms tightening around your waist just slightly. “You’re right. I haven’t.”

You brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I just…can’t. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her.”

You took note of his heartbeat, which was rapidly speeding up. "Riko?"

He nodded and paused, trying to regain his composure before opening his mouth to speak again. “It's all still so vivid in my head. I can still hear the gun going off and–"

"You don't have to talk about it if it's painful, Suguru," you whispered softly.

He shook his head, giving you a weak smile. "No, I think it's better this way. I feel like I'm being suffocated." There was a slight tremble to his voice as he spoke, his sentences laced with nothing but regret. "When I do fall asleep, I always dream about the same thing. She dies, he tells me that he killed Satoru too, these people laughing at all of this as if it’s some sick sit-com–” He clutched at the hem of your top, his voice cracking. "Sometimes I can't help but think, what if I had just killed all of them off like Satoru said? Would I still be feeling this remorseful?"

You bit your lip at these words, not knowing what to say. Is there even a correct answer here?

Seeing the expression on your face, the muscles in his jaw tensed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you–"

"No, no, you didn't," you quickly reassured him. The rain had stopped, and the sound of raindrops hitting the glass was replaced with the sound of trees swaying in the wind. "And honestly, I don't blame you for thinking that way. People can be so cruel sometimes."

He swallowed. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I–" His voice cracked a little.

"It's okay to cry, Suguru." You cupped his face in your hands, placing a kiss on both of his cheeks. "I hate it when you hold it in."

He leaned into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“She had friends, family, she wanted to live–" he said quietly. "And they were clapping, cheering–" He broke into a sob. "(Y/N), I–I was supposed to protect her but I couldn’t–I couldn’t even do that right–"

It was the first time you had seen him break down like this, and your chest ached. You wiped away his tears with your thumb and ran your left hand through his long hair, desperately trying to come up with something to say to calm him down as he tried to talk.

“I feel so damn useless, even now I’m just–do you see this?” He looked up at you and placed a hand on top of your right hand, his thin fingers wrapping around it as if he was scared to lose you, too. “All I'm doing – all I can do – is replaying the events over and over.” He shook his head, his wet cheeks glistening in the soft moonlight. "I'm a jujutsu sorcerer, yet – yet I couldn't save her. I watched her die."

“It wasn’t your fault, Suguru. None of it was, I promise." You could barely hear yourself speak, but you hoped that your words could help somewhat. "I'm sure that she appreciated all that you've done for her."

You didn’t know how much time had passed when his choked sobs finally slowed down to hiccups, or how long you had been tracing circles on his hand with your thumb, but by the time the sun peeked from the trees in the distance, Suguru’s eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing against his damp cheek whenever his eyelids slightly fluttered.

"I'm sorry..."

You sighed at his sleeptalking, making a mental note to talk to him later about his tendencies to feel guilty about showing his feelings. "It's okay, Suguru. You shouldn't have to apologize for anything." You kissed his forehead and murmured a soft “I love you,” giggling a little when you saw a smile form on his delicate features.

Must be a nice dream, huh.

You closed your eyes, letting the familiar warmth lull you into a deep sleep.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Still with you in the wait and see approach. I need to be confident that relationship is bones and there won't be signs of it until at least the premiere.

that’s where i’m at too. i also just think someone needs to remind tim minear of what exactly his job is. his job isn’t to stir up fandom drama (and then complain about drama that he himself is partially to blame for but then refuse to directly call out the toxic ones) his job is to tell a story; but he decided that wasn’t what his job was the moment he scrapped 7b to rewrite it into whatever that mess was rather than just giving us an (admittedly) rushed backhalf of the season, and then open s8 up for NEW content.

No instead, he’s rehashing old storylines (gerrard), driving (literal) dead plotlines even further into the ground by creating new elements that there has never been any evidence of before (shannon), as well as actively giving the toxic fans he complained about the ammunition they need to continue being toxic (bt).

it feels like when he came back, he got this kind of god complex and is deciding to use 9-1-1 as his dollhouse for his wacky “masterpieces” that aren’t even that well thought out, and thinking that he needs to come up with these convoluted crazy plots to keep audiences interested, when most of the fandom have been vocal about how they miss the s2-4 era where it was just a procedural drama… not a hitchcock remake or an homage to classic b-movies.

i miss the energy of past seasons when yeah there was drama, but overall it was still a silly feel-good show; but then in s7 rather than emulating s1 and having it be a shorter reestablished character-focused season, he had it be both a character focus season (that decided to retcon and rewrite entire character traits of some people) as well as trying to cram in crazy drama plots (like listen, the cruise ship arc was decent, but it should have been focused on the storm/wave ONLY rather than the dumbass pirate plot that only took 10 minutes 💀).

so yeah, i’n trying to still remain positive and interact w headcanon/fanfiction content and posting the occasional “i hope we get this in s8”, but as far as actively speculating and teying to figure things out from photos or 2 second clips that will most likely only result in disappointment or frustration upon seeing the finished product, i’m not gonna hold my breath for anything.

Again if you wish to engage in spec and have fun with that, then by all means do! I just don’t have the mental capacity to do that healthily so i find it oftentimes more rewarding to keep my expectations low (especially after i got kinda spec crazy last season)

but also if you DO engage in spec, don’t try to gaslight and bully people, telling them that their interpretation is wrong just bc it’s not yours (meaning if someone is cautious about whether or not we’re getting buddie canon, don’t tell them they are delusional and insane bc ‘we absolutely 1000% are and there is no possibility we aren’t’ even tho it is very likely that we unfortunately won’t get buddie canon) i’ve had to make the decision to unfollow so many larger buddie blogs that i used to enjoy bc seeing the way they interact with fans’ concerns, low expectations, etc made me feel so icky bc they were beginning to sound like a certain part of the fandom (👀) and i don’t like that.

like i’m not going to go on someone’s post where they’re voicing their concerns and say “this is stupid that would never happen you’re delusional”

it’s one thing to be like “hey, i get that you may be stressed, but i look at it this way and that seems to help me” or to be like “good points, but if you look at this and this” but to actively make people feel stupid for having (objectively based on how s7 went) concerns about s8? that’s icky behavior to me idk

anyway i kinda hijacked this ask and went on alittle tangent, but no i am right there with you too on the “wait and see” of it all bc so far i have not seen anything truly promising about this season, and i honestly probably won’t until the show comes out and we actually get a feel for where tim’s brain is at this season (which…. knowing where his brain went last season doesn’t fill me with excitement)

[rosetheocto]

Hey! Hope you're doing well.

Firstly, really like your voice for Chi, I can tell why @gnomey22 mentioned it! Secondly, I was wondering if you'd be up for sharing any Failtopia headcanons?

AAAA hello!! and ty for the compliments on the voice! I love sharing the headcanons I have for this series so much, I tried to think of ones for these guys that haven’t really spread around all too much, most of this is a mix of silly and serious lol

headcanons under the cut :0

part of the reason why C!Failboat wasn’t considering the darker implications of having 15/16 year olds getting traumatized in his party until probably after his Wake Up Call is because of what he went through with his family when he was that age. it’s not an excuse, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he kinda internalized/normalized what he went through when he was younger and convinced himself that It’ll Be Fine for these guys to be going through The Horrors since he’s still alive and well after everything (he’s not having a good time)

Simple Bob DESPISES Mar, even after the timeskip and S2. Since Mar has been possessing Hank all this time, that means he’s the one who was responsible for Punnyatta’s death. Bob is never gonna let that go for as long as he lives (also Post Game Isn’t Real HE IS NOT UGLY)

Big Bill has a HUGE birth family, like you go back to their pond or whatever and it’s just a whole flock of ducks just chilling there. they aren’t even built like Bill, they’re just regular normal ducks lmaoo

Orion and Mrs. Oopsie knew each other since high school, and spent most of their time breaking the rules and getting in detention (you gotta pry the idea of a younger Orion being a troublemaker out of my cold dead hands) also they absolutely won prom king/queen together lol

Friend is around 1000 years old when S2 happens, and yes they’re immortal change my mind

Chat is the only one that can properly see Void. why this is? only they know

Chat also listens to BENJIxScarlett and similar… ‘songwriters’ somewhat often. they would 100% jam out to that slop let’s be real

Mar always had somewhat of a feeling that Lee and Hank were the same entity, yknow being in control of his body for decades and all, but tried to brush it off and assumed he was imagining things (huge mistake lmaoo)

Shrimp likes to occasionally invite other members of The Incident onto her livestreams after S2, (she let Chat in once. never again.) No matter who it is though the chaos that ensues during these streams will never not be entertaining

Erica and Bo’s relationship 100% reminded Orion of him and his wife’s when they were younger (Mrs. Oopsie was def a vampire before she got sent to Dr Pepper Hell trust me bro)

S2 Dark Curse is Dr. SHOOK!!! (this is canon trust me)

Chi has helped on stage effects for Shrimp’s concerts alongside Bill surprisingly often. Lanc has also chipped in occasionally, but it’s mainly Chi and Bill that do the heavy lifting

Mar has kept a good amount of his Dark Curse powers in S2, but he unfortunately had his strength reduced by Kazoo Man enough to where he can’t just snatch the faces back from the Mystery Curse on his own

I promise I have WAY MORE (for both seasons) I’m just tired and my brain is fried lol, again tysm for the ask!! :D

[dreamsandscenes]

My Thoughts On

FINN SHELBY

* Spoilers ahead for S1 - S6 of Peaky Blinders *

The way that Finn as a character was pushed aside and rendered useless 99% of the time is a shame. I wish Steven Knight had had different plans for him (or just any good plans at all would’ve been nice).

I do find the age gap between Finn and all the other siblings a bit too much. If we’re going by the wiki ages, which make sense within the show, Finn was born in 1908. This also must be his birth year, since in season 1 of the show, he says he’s about to be 11, and S1 starts in 1919. His oldest sibling, Arthur, was already 21, Tommy was 18, John was 13, and Ada was 11 when he was born. I can only imagine that the Shelby parents started having kids in their teens, because the age gap is massive. It would’ve made more sense for Finn to be Arthur or Tommy’s son, rather than their brother with that age gap.

It also drives a bit of a wedge between the older siblings and Finn, because Arthur, Tommy, John and Ada all grew up together. They experienced their difficult childhood together. Finn didn’t. Maybe this is part of the reason why I don’t see the same bond between Finn and his siblings as they all have with each other. Don’t get me wrong, they all loved him. I never doubted that. But as Finn grew into a man, I did wonder if all of them actually liked him.

We also know that Mrs Shelby died when Finn was a baby, and Mr Shelby left the family shortly after. Finn never had parents, but he had substitutes for those roles.

Polly was the only mother he ever knew. She raised him. That being said though, it did seem like when Michael came back into her life, Polly put Finn on the back burner. We didn’t really see much of them together at all, apart from in season 1. I don’t even know who Finn lived with in S3/S4, because he was still so young, he had to live with someone. I think Polly cared for him very well when he was a little boy, but once he got into his teens, and Michael was back in the picture, she didn’t seem to care as much. Maybe because he didn’t rely on her to take care of him so much because he was getting older, she took a step back, but I honestly don’t know why she didn’t seem to have more of an active role in his life from S2 onwards. Maybe we should just say it was a poor writing decision.

Both Arthur and Tommy seemed to fill the fatherly role in Finn’s life. They both looked out for him when they could. They, along with John when he got old enough, made sure to financially support Finn, and give him more than they had growing up. That being said, they weren’t the best role models. I mean, Finn was already doing cocaine at 13/14, something at least Tommy was apparently aware of. Granted, they didn’t necessarily understand the issues with cocaine at the time, but people knew it was a drug, and kids obviously shouldn’t be doing drugs, so I don’t know if Tommy should get a pass for that less than fantastic big brother behaviour.

After John’s death, Finn is clearly brought more into the Peaky Blinders fold, to fill the hole that John left behind. Unfortunately though, Finn lacked the ruthlessness that John had. He could never quite measure up. Perhaps because he never had to fight to get by, like his big brothers did, he didn’t have that drive to succeed. He just kind of skated by the whole time. He didn’t have the aptitude for violence that John had, so he disappointed Tommy/Arthur when it came to Peaky business because he couldn’t handle it, but that’s not really something I would blame Finn for. That’s more on his brothers for expecting & hoping that he’d be like John. Tbh, I don’t know why they didn’t just make him handle legitimate business, rather than the criminal stuff, because he clearly wasn’t suited to it.

I can’t really say a lot about his relationship with Ada, because I don’t remember any significant scenes between them, apart from the scene in 5x01 where Finn gets shot and talks to Ada for minute after the bullet is removed. It’s pretty brief though. You’d think he’d have more scenes with his only sister, and I think it could’ve been interesting to see the difference between his relationship with her versus his relationship with his older brothers, who he always felt like he had something to prove to.

In S6, we see that he gets married to a woman named Mary. We know nothing about Mary. She’s in maybe 2 scenes. We know nothing about their relationship. There’s no development or love story for them. I truly don’t know why this was included in the show because it added absolutely nothing. I can only assume that the marriage might have some sort of relevance in the movie. If it doesn’t, I just don’t see the point in including it all. It was a meaningless moment.

His friendship with Billy Grade is ultimately the thing that ruins him. He quickly becomes close friends with Billy when they work together. He trusted Billy, because he was always more trusting than his brothers, so he told him things he shouldn’t have.

By the time we get to the end of S6, where he has to choose between shooting Billy, or saving him by shooting Duke or Isiah, he has been friends with Billy for years. It doesn’t really feel like that as a viewer because of the time jumps between seasons, but Billy was presumably his best friend by that point. With that in mind, was I supposed to be surprised that he tried to shoot Duke to save Billy? He didn’t know Duke. Duke meant nothing to him. Isiah used to be his friend, but they seem to have drifted apart as they got older. Obviously he wasn’t going to choose Duke, or Isiah, over his friend.

If Tommy and Arthur were in that room, instead of Duke and Isiah, I think things would’ve happened differently. When faced with a choice between his brothers and his friend, I think he would’ve chosen his brothers. I definitely don’t think he would’ve ever pointed a gun at either of them or tried to shoot them. But when faced with a guy he barely knew and a friend he wasn’t that close to anymore, he chose Billy. Yes, Billy was an informant, albeit a reluctant one, but he wasn’t only that to Finn.

Do I think he deserved to be disowned by the family at the end of S6 for this decision? No. I think he should’ve been punished in some way, and moved to the legitimate side of the business, because he simply wasn’t smart enough to handle the criminal side of things. I just find it hard to imagine the Shelby’s disowning one of their own, even one that does stupid stuff like Finn. That’s still their baby brother. I don’t like that as Finn’s ending in the show. It was bad enough when SK turned Michael into an antagonist; I don’t want to see Finn meet the same fate in the movie.

I’m really hoping Finn isn’t an antagonist in the PB movie. I really don’t want to see that. I don’t think that one situation with Billy would fully turn Finn against his family anyway. Against Duke maybe, but not his brothers. If he is one of the villains in the movie, I’m going to be disappointed. I’d rather see his final ending in the movie be him coming back into the family, and in some way finally earning the approval of his brothers. Perhaps he could do the whole double agent thing, where the audience thinks he’s a villain, but he’s actually helping his family. I don’t know, I just want more from him as a character than an antagonist storyline.

That’s kind of the way I felt about Finn the entire series; I just wanted more from him. He was always falling a bit short as a character for me. Never quite hitting the mark. I hope that he can finally reach his potential in the movie.

[silverpen-and-paper]

my thoughts on lokius

[loki season 1 spoilers!]

season 2 is coming out in a few days (!!) and so i decided i’d write out my thoughts on lokius before it’s released. as a disclaimer, this is critical of the series, but not completely series-negative.

if lokius becomes canon in s2, i genuinely want to be happy about it. it would be amazing steps in queer rep for marvel to have a canonical lgbtq couple as the focus of the show (and i say this as a queer person myself).

but the way mobius and loki’s relationship was written seems to be only thought-out on the surface level (which is the case for a lot of the things in the show), and a lot of aspects of their relationship aren’t so great when you look deeper into it. i understand why people don’t notice and/or don’t want to acknowledge it — i was extremely enthusiastic about the ship, and i didn’t notice the problems either. to those looking at lokius with the most positive light, they have an amazing dynamic and are adorable and wholesome and all great things. so i get the hype, i really do (tbh, i shipped it so hard that several months ago when the problems were pointed out to me it ruined my week).

but even with how much i loved it, i didn’t want to just ignore any potential problems. so i distanced myself from the ship for a few weeks until i was in a better headspace to gather my thoughts.

first i’ll start with what was intended:

mobius is obviously intended to be a very kind and understanding character. whether or not the writers wanted it to come across as platonic or romantic, they wanted him to care deeply about loki. like loki said though: “no one good is ever truly good, and no one bad is ever truly bad.” the writers did give mobius at least one major flaw and a character arc, in that he believed in the goodness of the tva too much, but by the end of s1, he was all for taking it down . 

you can see his flaw in the way he treats loki early on. sylvie’s been killing minutemen and stealing reset charges from the tva for a long time, and he wants loki’s help in finding her, so mobius does what the tva expects: he uses what he knows about loki to get them (somewhat) on the tva’s side. unfortunately, that happens to be psychologically breaking loki. compared to outright pruning from existence, which most of the tva seems to prefer, it’s no wonder he thinks this is the better option. (the fact that the show portrays this as a “therapy session” is a whole problem in itself, but i won’t get into that.)

things like this that mobius does early in the series can be explained by his faith in the tva’s mission. he didn’t agree with most of their methods, and he didn’t realize that even his actions (viewed by the tva as too merciful) were still significantly harmful, but he believed the tva ultimately worked for the good and safety of the entire universe. it’s not an excuse, but it could be forgiven in his later character arc when he realizes that he was wrong, regrets his actions, apologizes, and learns.

but then there’s the part when he puts loki in the memory cell.

i really, really hate that marvel did that. they easily could have had a very similar memory cell situation without having mobius be the one to put loki in there. (mobius could have left the room in anger, and then the guards or ravonna throw loki in there without mobius’ knowledge, for one example.) but instead, whoever wrote that plot point apparently didn’t understand how bad that was, and so it is, unfortunately, canon. 

you might be inclined to say that it wasn’t that bad. because actions in fantastical situations can make things harder to distinguish, i’ll put a real-world comparison: one partner puts the second partner somewhere they KNOW that the second will get repeatedly both physically and verbally attacked. they do this simply because they think that they’ve been cheated on. even if they had been cheated on, that in no way excuses beating up the second partner, directly or indirectly.

hopefully you can recognize that as obvious abuse. even if the abuser later deeply regrets it and rescues their partner, the fact that they did it in the first place NEEDS to be addressed. i don’t know what exactly could repair a relationship after that, but brushing it under the rug and ignoring it won’t help. (and this is still abuse with a platonic reading of the relationship.)

if marvel hadn’t done that (and had handled mobius’ arc better in general) then there would be far less problems with the lokius ship. but since they did, us as fans have to figure out where to go from here, whether that’s writing or reading fix-it-fics or simply acknowledging that the problems exist.

hopefully the people running s2 are more competent and have figured something out to fix this. i really hope that’s the case. but it is marvel.

(sidenote: from things that tom hiddleston and owen wilson have said in interviews i’ve seen, i don’t think they noticed the problems either. maybe they have background context of things that aren’t in the official show but they accepted them as canon. or they just didn’t notice, like is the case with many fans.)

[vanderspeiglemd]

Harry Vanderspeigle went from a good autistic read character—albeit tv stereotypical—to a full-on offensive caricature of a disabled person. He’s Roger from American Dad crossed with Corky from Life Goes On (+ a dash of Urkel) but because of the ‘alien’ label the show has carte blanche to write those around him as cruel and gives the audience the free pass to laugh at him, both because of the characteristics he shares with disabled people.

Intent is irrelevant when what you create doesn’t exist in a vacuum and implicit biases come through. There are real people who have the same characteristics as Harry and the show infantalizes him to no end, calls him stupid, malicious, and a burden to those around him. Mostly that it’s funny and justified to mock/dismiss him. It happens constantly—especially and most unfortunately from Asta—but in particular that car ride in the 2x13 was genuinely hard to watch. Two people bullying him in a scene where he was deliberately portrayed as more of a ‘child’, so he deserved it for being annoying or something. (this isn't even going into the abuse he gets from darcy under the terf guise of 'he's a man so he's bad')

This wasn’t an issue in s1, I was surprised he was treated well and that Alan's performance was nuanced. But once the season 2 devolution of his character began (s2 pt2 was a complete redo for his character. He learned lessons we’d already seen in s1, sometimes using the exact same scenes/lines, flanderized versions ofc) along with a jarringly awkward, loud, and off putting physical performance that feels like a long antiquated disabled caricature, it was a slippery slope to forced stupidity depending on the scene and a lot of mockery. As if his former self was too 'normal' to be the socially acceptable punching bag. I suppose the change isn't hard to believe when the runner was a shit ass family guy producer, s1 just didn't have enough time to show true colors I guess.

[queenhawke]

ok here’s all my Thoughts about mq s3 and why it’s probably the weakest season so far.

tl;dr It just feels like they wrote themselves into a corner with how s2 ended and then didn’t know how to continue on from there. And it’s disappointing! It’s back to how it was in s1 where the only real strong character arc is Ian and Poppy’s, and the rest of the characters are just kinda… there to do funny stuff. And it’s not the worst thing in the world and they kiiiinda pull it together a little in the finale, but it’s disappointing because we know they can do good character arcs for all the characters simultaneously, because they did that in s2! Also fuck NFTs

Rest is under a read more bc I told y’all I’d write a novel

let’s compliment sandwich this so good things first:

The GrimPop storyline was good! Easily the strongest aspect of the season, tho I feel like Ian Winger-speeching himself out of the conflict was maybe a bit too easy? It was a good speech, I liked it, it fits their weird toxic codependent relationship well, but I would have liked to see him doing more for Poppy. Ah well, still good.

The bad is uhhh a lot. I don’t even know where to begin.

Actually let’s start with the metaverse/NFT shit, because it was shit and really soured me on the first half of the season. I get why these topics were included, it was a hot issue when they were writing the season, but it sucks how they were implemented. First off, it’s aged like milk, what with the multiple crypto crashes and NFTs kinda disappearing out of the collective consiousness (thank christ). Second, the fact that there’s no talk of the negative aspects of NFTs. Atrocious, especially concerning Rachel, who, being ostensibly the leftist of the group, should really at the very least have brought up the negative impact on the environment that NFTs/crypto has. Unfortunately, it does make sense why this happened. Ubisoft was one of the first game companies to use NFTs in their games, and Rob Mcelhenney owns one of those ugly fucking apes (I hope for his sake he’s sold it already), so he’s clearly invested in this shit. Obviously neither was gonna shittalk NFTs when they have such a big monetary stake in them. Hugely disappointing, but not surprising.

Now the characters... let’s start with Dana, because her “character development” was easily the most baffling to me. Like. Who is this? Where did this mini-Ian come from? This isn’t who Dana was. She had confidence, sure, but not Ian levels of delusional confidence. And like, what was the point of making her so much like Ian? How did that serve her character? Most she did was act like a kind of mediator between Ian and Poppy, but what did it do for her? The last ep kinda wrangles this into her being fed up with them and starting her own thing, but like, she was happy to hang out with Ian for most of the season. I dunno, I can kinda see what they were going for, but it doesn’t feel like there was a proper build-up to that final episode.

Let’s go to everyone’s favourite tumblr sexyman, Brad. Again, the last episode blatantly states his “arc” (working his way up to being in power again), but like. All the stuff inbetween doesn’t feel like it really adds up to anything. I mean, what did him being the janitor really... do. He acts like he’s up to something, but then he isn’t, and by ep 3 he’s already just doing HOMIE stuff again. I think it could have been so much more fun if he’d actually used his position as a janitor to weasel his way back into monetization. Like, digging up dirt on people and stuff. And again the build-up to the finale wasn’t really there. Oh, he wants a challenge now? He never talked about that. Where did that come from? Why not seed that more? Also, would have liked for his eating disorder to be addressed more. It’s so rare to see men with eating disorders on tv, it could’ve been something special. Maybe next season.

Rachel... I’m highly skeptical of her suddenly being “dumb”. Like sure, she was always shown to be a little airheaded, but it feels like they really turned it up to 11 and like... for what? It reminds me too much of how Britta was treated in later seasons of Community, and that was shitty then and is shitty now. It’s just wild to me that they’d have this whole arc in s2 about her finding her passion, and then they just throw it away. She could’ve been the new writer instead of the new HOMIE! Also, if she’s so dumb, how can she be made the new HOMIE at all. That’s a high fucking position, and you expect me to believe they just gave that to some rando ex-tester? I know MQ isn’t realistic, but I have my limits. And then they kinda lampshade that by having Brad be like “oh I engineered this” but that just feels lazy. Like my brother in christ you put her in this storyline, don’t act like it all meant nothing now. Also I know capitalism is a hell of a drug and I love me a corruption arc but could we for once have a leftist character on tv who like. Sticks to their guns and isn’t a massive hypocrite. Please.

THE LACK OF REAL STORYLINE BETWEEN BRAD AND JO. Hello he went to jail for her??? Hello?? Can we address this? Even a little? Maybe in the ep called TO CATCH A MOUSE?? It wasn’t even a mouse but you named it To Catch A Mouse and then you don’t have some sort of conversation between the mouse and the shark hello? Do I have to do everything myself around here??

Also, C.W. @kaitcake1289​ already wrote a good post on this but I’d just like to reiterate what a disappointment it is that his death seemingly has zero impact on anyone. And it could have been such a good way to tie all the characters together, which I think was sorely needed with how divided they were between MQ and GrimPop. The grief they would all feel from losing the studio’s weirdo grandpa could have been such a nice overarching theme. And it could all impact them in different ways and drive their arcs this season! Just a missed opportunity, and frankly a weird way to treat the death of one of the major characters. Even Pierce’s death in Community was more impactful, and he left because there was major beef between the actor and the showrunner.

I’m a bit hmm about the idea of Dana/Jo/Brad in their own studio, bc I just don’t think splitting the characters up like this worked out this season, but we’ll see. I hope they have an actual plan this time lmao.

Okay other end of the compliment sandwich uhhhhh. I think David’s arc was decent. It was nice to see him get along with Jo and to see him stand up for himself. Um. The Christmas ep was very good. Sarian was another banger backstory ep. In general there were loads of jokes I liked! I’m just disappointed with how the characters that weren’t Ian or Poppy were treated.

[realmermaid333]

Wednesday- Hyde Monster Analysis *SPOILERS*

IF YOU HAVENT SEEN EPISODE 8 OF WEDNESDAY LOOK AWAY FAST!!!

I have been reading some people’s theories/comments about the Hyde monster and whether or not Tyler will have a redemption next season and I wanted to explore my theories on what will happen with him in S2 and with how the Hyde monster may work. 

First, lets go over what the Hyde monster is. The Hyde monster is a monster in the Wednesday Addams universe that is based on Jekyll and Hyde. In the show itself, it seems the Hyde monster is supposed to be what Mr. Hyde from Jekyll and Hyde was. 

A Hyde is a person who can transform into a violent and homicidal monster, we don’t know that much about them except for the fact that Nevermore academies founder, Nathaniel Faulkner, was killed by one when trying to study them. We also know that Hyde’s are unlocked after a traumatic experience or by the use of a chemical. In Wednesday, Hyde’s also can have a master who controls them (in Tyler’s case it was Ms. Thornhill, aka Laurel). 

Because Hydes are unpredictable, they were banned from attending Nevermore 30 years ago. We don’t know if there is any way for Hydes to control their abilities, if there’s been non-violent/homicidal Hydes, etc. Hopefully that will all be answered next season. 

But we do have the original source material to make theories from! 

If you look at the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (written by Robert Louis Stevenson), it is a tale about how hiding and denying the dark parts of ourselves (the shadow self) doesn’t help us and only makes us feel more shame and less control, which would in turn make the shadow self worse. 

In the story, Dr. Jekyll is a kind and selfless doctor who loves to help people, but he has this other part of him, a monsterous man named Mr. Hyde who is capable of horrible things. Dr. Jekyll attempts to separate Mr. Hyde from himself so he can be pure and good and be rid of Mr. Hyde. But unfortunately, this just makes Hyde stronger and he commits heinous crimes and kills people. In the end, Mr. Hyde becomes too strong and Dr. Jekyll commits suicide because he no longer had control over Hyde. 

Because of the story the Hyde monster is derived from, I can see Tyler’s story going two different ways. The first, is that Tyler is now gone and dead and the Hyde is the only thing that is left. That is honestly super sad and I would like to hope it’s not what happens, but also it doesn’t fit the source material as well.

In the story, when Jekyll died, Hyde did too, because they were the same person. Jekyll only ended his life because he didn’t know how to control Hyde anymore and he knew if he died, Hyde would too. Meaning Tyler has to still be in the picture. That leads me to the second and more positive outcome--- Tyler is still in there somewhere and he could have a redemption and end up being a good person. 

From Tyler’s story, we know that he was once a normal, sweet teenage boy. It wasn’t until he was manipulated, groomed, and tested on by Laurel that his Hyde was unlocked. Tyler was not aware he was a Hyde because his father kept the fact that his mom was one from him. We don’t know if he could have somehow got help or if there is some way for Hyde’s to learn to accept and control their abilities, we will likely learn more next season. 

Since Jekyll and Hyde is a bit of a cautionary tale about the shadow self, there is a chance that the show could explore what happens if you don’t do what Dr. Jekyll did. If Jekyll were to have accepted Hyde as a part of himself and instead learned to control him without attempting to make him a “separate” entity, things could have been different. 

I know Tyler told Wednesday that he used to be horrified and not remember much from his transformations, and that eventually he remembered and started to love hurting people. The thing is, we don’t know if that was really Tyler and his opinion or not. That very well could have been his Hyde talking--- and it would make more sense if that was the case as in the original story, Mr. Hyde became too strong and overpowered Jekyll. The same could be happening with Tyler. I don’t think Tyler as a person actually liked killing people. Perhaps Tyler could learn how to be his own master and control what his Hyde does. 

I would also want to see Tyler somehow get better since it is very clear he is a teenage boy who was groomed by a grown woman who showed him the affection that his father didn’t and his mother wasn’t alive to. It is rather sad to think about Laurel manipulating him and obviously being kinda pedo with him, just using him as a pawn for evil. 

But, this is all just my wishful, hopeful thinking! We won’t know until next season comes out, and the show hasn’t even gone through the renewal process yet. The actors don’t even know anything about the next season yet! So we will see :) 

[theshippirate22]

Well s1 Nancy is a hypocrite. At first she was pissed at Mike for being upset that Will went missing because she would miss out on her date with Steve. Then she got mad that nobody was listening to her when her best friend was gone. Same with the Steve situation, all he asked was to leave out the alcohol because he was scared of his dad's reaction but she twisted it in a way that was like you don't care about Barb, but then literally lied about having sex, which is imo more important to the story because that was the reason why she and Barb fought and why Barb was then missing. Nancy only cares about stuff if it's directly affecting her, if Barb wouldn't have gone missing she wouldn't have helped Jonathan to find Will.

Same in s2 she brushed over Steve's feelings of being scared to expose the government and accused him of not caring, when he actually did. Like he just didn't want to get killed and wanted to keep her and everyone else involved in safe.

YES! 100% YES! ALL OF THIS

I actually think Nancy is a really good non-conventional antihero. Like, yeah she wants justice for Barb and she’ll bring the people who hurt her to face their crimes and shit but she has that ick factor of being really selfish and hypocritical. It’s not the typical this-likable-protagonist-sometimes-does-illegal-things-for-the-greater-good watered down bullshit

unfortunately, because of this, she’s like uber unlikable and it’s like one of those paradoxes where it’s excused that’s she’s done all this obnoxious selfish shit because we just have already acknowledged that we don’t like her

and also? it feels like everyone holds steve to a different standard, whether it’s because he’s a guy (which is bs) or because barb wasn’t his friend or something but it’s like yeah, okay, nancy you’re grieving or whatever (even though she’s just missing, it’s basically the assumption that she’s dead right) but maybe steve is too! when i was in high school i had 6+ peers die and even though i only knew one of them personally it hit me so hard everytime because when you’re a teenager, people don’t die. death is too abstract to comprehend. so you just become like uncomfortably aware of your own mortality and you like get really anxious for no reason. and then to have someone go missing from your own backyard would be really jarring and i think he has every much right to be “grieving” as she is.

it’s all just. bullshit.

she got one thing right.

*thanks for coming to my TedTalk*

[invisibleicewands]

Hello! You are so good at writing review, I really like it! What is your opinion about Good Omens S2? To be honest, I hadn't have any expectations, so I wasn't upset by the plot. But, to my mind, unfortunately, there was a lot of bad writing, unnecessary characters and primitive dialogues compare to the first season.

Hi, Anon!

Thank you for your trust, even if mine are more random thoughts. I have to tell you, I’m not a binge watcher (I prefer to taste the episodes one by one, slowly) but this time I chose to make an exception watching it all in three days, with the last ten final minutes seen immediatly the first day, just to avoid the spoilers online (like “away the tooth away the pain“). So, my view could be affected by this.

Over the last few months I've been making a certain idea about the 2nd series and now I can say it wasn’t completely wrong, even though the result is maybe a bit better than my first expectations.

I find GO2 being like a colorful circus, with a parade of artists doing their best numbers and where MS and DT were the best attraction, the trapeze artists.

The plot is a pretext, 100% fans service: to monetize again the success of the first season, following the dreams’ fans, using their fanfictions as inspiration for the script, then putting all together in a glossy package with a bow on top: some fireworks, a bit of special effects and the effort of two titans, MS and DT, who took the 80% of the weight of this mission on their shoulders.

As very 'serious' and professional actors, with a background of theatre, tv and cinema, they did a wonderful job, transforming with their talent every line in something precious, every scene unforgettable, with skilful expressions or little gestures, even during the boring moments. They put on the table all the tricks of their playbooks to play their characters. Sometimes I saw some of Bill Masters’ glances, sometimes there were Kenneth Williams or Aro or Castor’s vibes. And the episodes were rich of references to their previous works too (Bright Young Things, Dr.Who, etc.), like a showcase of their careers.

I particularly liked Crowley’s clever lines, his dry humour, his pragmatism, also his soft side. A bit less, I must say, Aziraphale character, who was sometimes too much unnecessarily stubborn or dull if compared with the first season, too much 'Wesley Snipes'. But the actors, as I said, were both excellent and a wonder for the eyes. A mention for Jon Hamm too: I thought the nice reviews for his performance were exaggerated, but his scenes were really funny (his hug to Aziraphale xD), maybe because of the contrast between the absurdity of the moments combined with his mono-expression-marble-face. Pity for his story, which had to be the core of the mistery but was revealed and explained in a superficial and hurried way just in the last few minutes.

And here we are, the story. I've found the first two episodes well written, with comic scenes and smart lines, good timing, but then something suddendly changed: the plot became plain, childish, predictable. IMHO a lot of time has been wasted to tell useless or not so interesting stories. The barely hinted relationship between Nina and Meggie, the mere rethoric of their speech to Crowley, all the chaos of the demons battle for nothing, the travel to the cemetary in Scotland and all the resurrectionist thing. Plus, a lot of stereotypical characters: the ridiculous zombies, the boring angels of the Paradise, all like clowns, dolls to fill the void. And Jane Austen. There was nothing really important about her, just her name to justify a ball in regency dresses. Not enough for me. Also, the la-la land love story between Gabriel and Beelzebub to give a meaning to the mistery (really?), was cold and too quick to be interesting.

The turning point at the end of the 6th episode and it was like suddendly watching Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford in The Way We Were. MS and DT were simply amazing in giving to that scene such a depth and drama (nervous breakdown Aziraphale?), but the effect I felt was a bit alienating compared to what I'd seen just before. Like a leap too big, like watching two completely different and separate shows.

The final. Moving, exciting, wonderfully acted but... of course was not a final (like MoS ending in season 3). They should have called this Good Omens vol.2, like Kill Bill, since it’s obvious that was not a real end. Everything has been written for a third part since the beginning and you can see it, even if they tried to hide it somehow. Honestly I don't know if I wish to see another chapter, 'cause I'm worried about Michael's hair at this point... (I'm evil, I know)

Jokes apart, I think it was surely an entertaining, light, funny, moving, show with some brilliant moments and others less, and two great actors who covered the flaws with their skills. But I struggle to see it like a masterpiece or something worthing of an award (the special effects and the make up too, were a bit cheap). It needed of something more in the writing, for example, to reach The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel league, just saying.

But for sure it was a gold mine for fans and gif makers. ;)

A music video, to heal the heart of a demon:

[techslander]

TBB S3 Thoughts

Unorganized rambles about the recent news!

The Bad Batch always gave me a feeling of finality, so I’m not really shocked at it ending at the third season, though I am surprised that it wasn’t pushed for a fourth. I don't know if a fourth season would’ve been better or helped the story breathe more but s2 preformed well in reviews so it’s a little shocking that they aren’t trying to milk it like everything else, however we do know animation doesn’t get treated well regardless. 

I’m happy that this is, as far as I can tell, a planned ending. The s2 finale felt very “go big or go home” and setting up for a large climatic end, so the fact that they’re able to tell the story they want without cutting it short or unnecessarily dragging it out is nice. 

Tech. Ohhhhh boy. I’ve been all over the place emotionally about him but cognitively I’ve come around to accepting whatever the writers have in store for him. When s3 was announced as the final season I felt very solid in him being gone for good, but then Joel Aron made this tweet:

and. yeah. This was in response to someone talking about how they wanted to see the batch all together again and how we likely would never get that. If it’s a fluke then it's a pretty sick prank to be pulling, but honestly I’ll take whatever hope I can. I’ll be damned if this isn’t about Tech. His death always seemed very sketchy to me and I was and am fully team #TechLives because I refuse to believe they’d call falling into mist a decent death. Tech will get his own post soon but consider the fact that his death did exactly what they wanted it to: drum up social media buzz for the next season. 

The fate of the rest of the Batch is still up in the air for me. If Tech comes back, then I think it’s possible we’ll get the “happy ending on Pabu”, but if Tech isn’t coming back, I’m highly anticipating a Rogue One moment. I don’t know. It’s a give and take. And tonally I can’t see an ending with all but one alive as satisfying, unless they’re all gone, but that’s just me. 

Finally, spin-off potential? I’ve seen people talking about a Captain Rex clone uprising spin-off because one article said that this was the end of The Bad Batch as “this part of the story”, implying there’s more, which is possible, but if so it’s probably years away and unfortunately I am too emotionally attached to Tech to watch new clone content without him anytime soon. It’s an interesting idea and I PRAY this isn’t the end of the clone stories in Star Wars. 

[grindy-cog]

What do you mean by Alex having power Michael? In a dom/sub way? Not judging, just curious.

Dear Anon,

Thank you for your question!

I suppose you could see it in a dom/sub way, though that wasn’t exactly what I was after? Do I think that Michael, despite his rebellious ways, has a clear need of pleasing and - to some extent- obeying those he loves the most? Yes, absolutely. But it doesn’t need to be read in a dom/sub way, sexual or otherwise, though there’s nothing wrong with that take either🤷‍♀️

However, I was more after Guerin pretty much always following Alex’s lead in many ways, and the youngest Manes being more or less the only one to get through Michael when he was being too stubborn, self-destructive or emotional for his own good. Of course, as long as Alex’s own issues and insecurities weren’t hitting too close home, but that’s another matter and not what you asked for.

Now, I don’t know how you’d see it; if the reason behind that behaviour was the fact that Michael definitely fell for Alex first; or if it was related to the sad truth of Alexander being the first person giving a damn about Guerin, Max and Isobel aside. That he knew about, anyway. Or maybe, because he could relate to Alex on many levels, crappy family life included…

If you asked me, I’d say it’s a combination of the three but most of all, Michael’s own personality and how he loves. It’s hidden and unpredictable but once out? Absolutely powerful and fierce and soul and body consuming, like the fire in his blood. But also protective, unashamed and with no way to hide.

I mean, he certainly gave his bastar.d of a father some serious whiplash with how intense he was. How completely unlike him, or even Nora in this way.

And I think Alex, because of his own personality and the way he loves, could have always tamed that fire in Michael a bit; probably even unknowingly at first, made it calmer, quieter, a gentle fire to warm up next to, instead of an unpredictable disaster.

So, in a way, Alex has a power over Michael; always had, always will, and not a bad one, too. But this is why it was such an important and milestone breakthrough moment for Guerin to finally tell Alex ‘no’. It had nothing to do with them not loving each other enough, or not fighting strong enough for one another. It definitely had nothing to do with Maria at that point. It came down to Michael, through his grief and powerful emotions, finally understanding that they both needed to grow first. Unfortunately, separately.

He was right in saying that at that point in their lives, they weren’t good for one another. He wanted to be good for somebody, and Alex wasn’t ready yet, not really. He had to come out of his shell completely first, to let himself get burn a little every once and awhile. Otherwise he’d always end up leaving, and one day, in this way or another, it’d finally be too much for Michael. That would be something they’d never come back from.

Do I wish that we could’ve avoided some unnecessary drama in s2? Heck, yes. But all those strange writing choices and even stranger plot, led to a genuine healing and character’s growth with Malex.

Hope I answered your question and take care!

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

With the S2 premiere of “The Ghost and Molly McGee” in a few weeks I remembered that I hadn’t made this post I wanted to do when S1 ended. So here now is my:

My Top 12 S1 The Ghost and Molly Mcgee songs (in no particular order)

1. Snow Day [Ready, Set, Snow!]

I remember days like this when I was a kid and I love the expressions Molly has, especially the face after the icicles.

2. Only One Best Friend [Friend-Off]

an epic rock ballad for a pointless fight between Scratch and Libby since we all know Molly wouldn’t limit herself to just one best friend

3. Just Give (Us Money) [Getting the Band(shell) Back Together]

 A fun song that shows how aggressive Molly can get with her asking for charity (unfortunately this clip doesn’t include the Scratch robs a credit union gag after this song) 

4. (Boom Baby Boom) There Goes My Heart [Hooray for Mollywood!]

This is a fun and short song that both reminds me of Cuban Pete from The Mask and the singer reminds me of Josh Gad (which I was surprised that it wasn’t him since he was everywhere in disney for a while at the time)

5. Happy (Hide My Joy Away) [Molly vs the Ghost World] 

Not only a catchy song that was stuck in my head for a month after hearing it but also a neat hint at how powerful Molly is in the Ghost Realm (it also kinda reminded me of the Trolls movies, song-wise which that is more of a positive in this case)

6. Everything is Totally Normal [Home is Where the Haunt is]

Molly going through what so many kids are and trying to pretend that things are fine in a manic, catchy song. Love the facial expressions too.

7. It’s a Lose-Lose [Scratch the Surface]

One of the main reasons people started to ship Molly and Libby, then again could you blame them? Molly is singing a ballad about not wanting to lose Libby with several operatic scene moments, how else can we except to not ship them?

8. Go Back to City Hall [Citizen McGee]

An excellent homage to “Beauty School Drop-Out” from Grease. The episode is also a nice hint at a possible future for Molly being Mayor of Brighton.

9. They All Pitch In [Out of House and Home]

along with the Grease homage, we now have a “9-5 by Dolly Parton” homage and it’s a delight, just a shame it’s so short.

10. The Bad Boy of Brighton [The Bad Boy Bobby Daniels]

A good homage to the classic 1940/50s girl’s singer groups

11. Best Friends’ Day (Saturday) [All Systems No]

A frantic song about all the possibilities of what you can do on a Saturday. Shame it’s short.

12. Prepare to be Scared [Scaring is Caring]

A cute song about Molly failing to scare people, the singer kinda reminds me of Lemon Demon but barely.

Honorable Mentions:

HM1: My Best Friend’s Bat Mitzvah [Mazel Tov, Libby!]

HM2: Silly McGee [Twin Trouble]

HM3: Obstruction [Talent Show]