#tw: mentions of rape

[farfromstrange]

I know I am not American, and I won’t pretend I understand perfectly how your system works, but I want to say something regardless because I feel some might need to hear it again.

Please vote! If you are old enough and eligible to vote, do! Use your voice!

Vote for women’s rights.

Vote for the rights of immigrants.

Vote for the rights of the LGBTQ+ community.

Vote for the rights of minorities.

If not for yourself—if you’re privileged enough not to fear for your reproductive rights or your mere right to exist or love whoever you want (if you’re a white, cis man)—vote for human rights. If you think it’s hopeless, vote anyway. Vote because your vote matters.

Vote because American politics are not detached from the rest of the world. Your next president will have an impact on the rest of the world, not just your own country. That is why so many Europeans are fearful today. That’s why many small countries around Russia are fearful today. That’s why so many people who are not American are telling you to vote.

Because your Republican candidate, quite frankly, is a threat to world peace.

He is a threat to your own people.

Appeal to your common sense. Think about all the women bleeding out in parking lots from miscarriages that doctors in states with abortion bans are too scared to treat.

Think about what it would feel like for you (if you’re straight) to lose the right to love whoever you want in public, to marry them or start a family with them.

Think about what it would feel like to know you were born in the wrong body but being unable to get gender-affirming care.

Think about what it would feel like to grow up not learning about sex, periods, or even gender identity, and not understanding what’s happening to your body when you wake up at 8 years old and you’re bleeding.

Think about what it feel like to be this little and be forced to carry your rapist’s baby while he doesn’t even get prosecuted for it.

Think about what it would be like to send your kids to school and worry they might not make it home.

I know for almost all of you, that is already gruesome reality.

So, think about what it already feels like. Think about what it would feel like to not fit into the typical cisgender white mold, to be a minority and have your rights stripped away—your human rights—and vote accordingly.

Because just because something is not your reality doesn’t mean it isn’t the reality of millions of Americans.

And if it’s your reality, you need to fight.

(Of course, there are a lot more examples I could get into, but I hope you get the message.)

There is no such thing as the perfect candidate. Politicians are not your friends. You need to pick the one you think will do the best work, who stands for the people and not against them, and hold them accountable for the rest.

Some people need to get off their high horse and realize that the world is far from black and white.

I’ve had to choose between impossible candidates to vote, but I also picked the party I knew at least cared about human rights enough to fight for them. I picked a party so my vote wouldn’t go to the far-right.

Because not voting at all is just like voting for the worse candidate.

So make your vote count, and think carefully about who you’re voting for. Because does anyone with at least half a brain really want to be associated with a pedophile rapist convict who understands jack shit about politics? I don’t think so.

Vote, please. If not for yourself, do it for everyone else. Do it for your country, do it for the rest of the world, but most importantly, do it for those who might not be able to.

- 💙

[pedrostylez]

How The Crow Flies: pt. 1

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Summary: Introduction into the HTCF world, Peña is a menace

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. mean!Javier, violence, dubcon, SMUT!!!!!, anger, fighting, PTSD, mentions of rape, derogatory use of slut, whore, and the like

Please support by commenting, sending me respectful thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi (please let me know if I missed anyone that was interested or if you would like to be added)

You used to be new to Colombia. 

You had never really thought you would be invited to the Embassy as a guest DEA agent, struggling to pull your bag through the airport with your purse in your other hand, but you’d made it-and the heat was different from Miami heat. 

But you had worked hard in Florida, stopping drugs from passing through the border, starting your career in the mail office, and working your way up. 

You stood on the docks of Miami undercover so many times that you were considered the local siren, stopping drug mules in their tracks just to talk to you, only to find out that you were there to bust them. 

Your coworkers, male and female alike were proud of you, happy for you. You had been blessed with people who surrounded you and were supportive. 

When you got to Colombia it was like you were back at square one. 

Your boss, the well-known Javier Peña, had a stick up his ass. 

“Would you give these to Noonan?” Peña had swept by, plopping papers on your desk before trying to run further away. 

You stopped him, holding out your hand and wrapping your fingers around his suit sleeve. “Sorry, sir. But what are they?”

“You don’t need to know that.” He scoffed, pulling his arm from your grasp. “You’re sitting in one of my agent’s chairs, and I need you to bring that to Noonan as soon as you’re done setting up her computer.”

You scoffed back, standing up and placing a hand on your hip. His eyes followed your hand, eyebrows raised in interest until you said your name. “I am the agent that sits at this desk, Peña.”

“My apologies.” He said quietly with no hint of actual remorse. “Still, please bring that to Noonan. Our new employee meeting starts in five minutes.”

You immediately regretted wearing the pencil skirt, thinking it would be a good first impression as if that was the reason that Javier Peña had mistaken you. From then on you wore cargo pants and a fitted t-shirt, like the rest of the team, arguing with your boss at every corner. 

“I told you to stay here. And what did you do? You fucking went out there anyways.” Peña had this thing about slamming the door to make a point, even though everyone could clearly see into his office where you were standing, arms crossed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. 

“Jason said he needed help. I helped him.” Standing your ground came naturally, and Peña clearly hated it. He wanted you to bend over backward for him, just like Jason, and just like David.

“You don’t need to help him by getting yourself killed.” Peña gritted out, turning to you before sitting at his desk.

A quick mumble came out of your mouth, “Would rather do that than push your pencils around like some secretary.”

“Are you going to hold that against me for the rest of the time you’re here? Because if that’s the case then maybe you should go back to Miami.” He was back standing, pointing at you and what he assumed was the general direction of Florida. Sweat beaded at his hairline, eyes dark with annoyance. 

“I’m not holding anything against you, boss.” You snark, twisting around to the door to look out into the bullpen, where everyone is pretending to not watch. “Are we all done here?” 

Peña was quick to brush you off after staring, motioning at the door resting his hands on his hips, and pacing behind his desk. 

But then after a successful mission, Peña brought you and the others out for drinks. A Friday celebration for “catching the bad guys” as Jason had always said, downing the free beer that his boss provided. 

You were all for taking advantage of Peña’s money if he was going to pay for drinks. Quick to order tequila sodas, letting them slide down your throat like water and sway back and forth as you spoke with office staff and the other agents. 

You avoided Peña like the plague. Any time you turned your head you saw his back towards you, speaking to any girl he could find that wasn’t part of the team he was paying for. 

One too many tequila sodas had you stumbling to the bathroom, struggling with the button of your pants, and taking much longer than you had the last time you went. You were thinking that it is about time to take yourself home, walk down the sidewalk for some fresh air, and then hail a cab, but when you finally manage to get out of the bathroom of this bar, your coworkers are filing out. 

“Where are y’all going?” You slur to Jason who is holding the door open for one of the archive girls. It’s like he doesn’t even hear you, stepping through the door wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and whispering in her ear. 

You mumble out a few curse words, turning toward the bar counter where that same head that you had been staring at all night is now facing you. His eyes are watchful, glass to his pouted lips as he takes a sip of what looks to be whiskey. “You want water?”

“Another tequila would be nice.” You perk up, slouching into the seat next to him with hooded eyes. In the back of your mind, you’re aware that you will be having a hangover tomorrow but don’t care enough to stop it. 

Peña motions at the bartender, nodding at you to indicate that you would like another drink. He takes a beat before saying, “So, you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” You hiccup, furrowing your brow as the bartender sets a glass in front of you. You take a sip, noticing that there is no fizz, and know immediately that you’ve been cut off. “Damn, he gave me a water.”

He chuckles, draining his glass and turning fully towards you. His eyes scan behind you and the surrounding area before settling on your face. “I shouldn’t have assumed you were Noonan’s secretary.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You sigh, taking another sip of the water. You’re suddenly extremely thirsty. 

Peña waits for you to say more, but shakes his head when you begin tapping your fingers against the counter. “I’m trying to apologize.” He huffs out, resting his head on one hand, propped against the bar. 

“You are?” You laugh, pushing the glass of water away. “I didn’t hear one.”

“I wasn’t thinking, that day I walked in and asked you to go to Noonan.” He sighs, explaining himself. Still not an apology. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure to get this right this time, and I was told I was having a female agent added to my team that had done great things in Miami but didn’t know anything beyond your name.”

You shrug, sliding off your seat. “Okay, boss. No big deal. It was months ago.” You give in, thinking it’s about time to walk home. 

When you stumble away from Peña, he reaches for your arm to hold you up, hissing out between his teeth. “You need a ride home.”

“No, I’m fine.” His hand is warm at your elbow, seeping through his skin to yours so quickly that you break out in a shiver. You attempt to yank your arm away, but his grip is firm and guiding. 

If he notices you trying to pull away from him or the shiver, he doesn’t say anything. “Wasn’t asking.” 

You think you roll your eyes, but you’re not too sure based on how the room is moving around you. “Haven’t you drunk too?” Your hand twists out to grip his shoulder, too dizzy to be pulling away now. 

“Not as much as you.” He mumbles with a short chuckle, guiding you to the door after slipping the bartender some bills. You aren’t sure how much he’s paid, but you think it’s a lot based on how happy the guy looks. 

The typically humid air is crisp against your skin as you step out, and you can’t help but curl your fingers into the sleeve of his shirt. The noises around you feel muffled, and when you turn to Peña he’s already looking at you expectantly. “What?”

He huffs out his nose, trying to keep his composure. “Where do you live? In the same block as the other agents or somewhere else?”

You shake your head, confused by his question but tell him your address anyways. “I can make it home–”

“No.” He cuts you off, lightly pressing into the small of your back to lead you toward his Jeep. “You’ve had more to drink than others, and I need you to be ready by Monday.”

“Oh, I’m definitely calling in sick Monday.” You hiccup, grabbing onto the handle of his car as you hop into the passenger seat.

Peña walks around to the driver's side, sliding in and watching you as you buckle in clumsily. “Don’t get sick in my car.”

“No promises.” You mumble, laying your head back against the headrest and shutting your eyes as he pulls away from the curb. The drive feels familiar, turning at the right moments, and the hum of his car seems to have you slipping into sleep. 

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until Peña’s warm hand was on your elbow again, shaking it gently. “Hey, you awake?”

You startle, sitting up straight and looking out the windshield before flashing your eyes over to him, glancing down at his fingers drifting over your elbow in soothing circles. You clear your throat, reaching for his door handle. “Yeah, sorry.”

“S’alright.” He reaches for his own door, gets out, and walks around the front of the car to where you are stumbling toward your door. “Where’s your key?” You mumble incoherently, reaching into your pocket and dangling the key in front of him for a moment before he snatches it out of your hand and into the lock. “Let me make sure you don’t get sick all over yourself.”

“I’m not even that drunk.” You scoff, brushing past him to the bathroom. You are mostly just dizzy, a nasty side effect of tequila that you’ve never been able to curb. “Since you invited yourself in, there’s soda in the fridge.” You clip from your mirror, reaching for a washing rag and turning on the water. 

“What, no beer?” He calls, chuckling quietly before you hear the sound of the fridge opening, his footsteps going quiet when he gets back to your living room and sits on the couch. 

When you’ve finished scrubbing your face, you step back into the living room and see Peña with his soda half tilted up, glancing at you and down to your coffee table where a glass of water is waiting. “Thanks, boss.” You mumble, sitting on the other side of the couch and taking a sip. 

He nods, eyeing you quietly before setting the half-empty bottle in front of him. “Javi is fine.” 

You quirk your eyebrow at him, humming to yourself before taking another sip. “Are we getting personal now?”

Peña squints at you, pursing his lips to hide a smile that seems to be growing on his lips. “Only if you tell me something personal.” 

You scoff, setting down your glass and leaning back. The air conditioner in your apartment is only in the bedroom, leaking out into the rest of the living space slowly and heavily along the ground. Your toes are cold, realizing suddenly that you have taken off your shoes and it seems like Peña did as well, his toes wiggling under his socks. “Something personal? What do you want to know?”

He shrugs. “Anything. I don’t know much about you at all besides that you worked your way up in a field that isn’t kind to women, and moved here from Miami on recommendation from Noonan to help catch the Cali cartel.” 

You tilt your head over to him to watch him, his arm flexing as he reaches for his soda again. You feel this sudden urge to lean forward and touch his arm– “I hate the heat.” You blurt, stopping yourself from reaching for him as he looks at you inquisitively. “I-I grew up in Utica, New York. Love the snow.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Why did you go to Miami, if you hate the heat?”

You shrug. “Wanted to be different.” You laugh to yourself, leaning forward again for your glass. “Couldn’t stand staying in the same town, or just moving to the next city over like all my friends did.”

As you’re talking your hand knocks the glass off the coffee table, water spilling over your feet and onto the carpet. You jump, leaning toward Peña to lift your feet off the floor before they get wet, but you aren’t quick enough. “S’alright. Let me get a towel.” He says quietly, grabbing the glass from the floor and his soda before heading to the kitchen. 

When he returns with a kitchen towel that you think was hanging on the oven’s handle, you don’t expect him to sit so close and wrap his hand around your calf and lift it onto his lap. He wipes at your feet gently, hand still holding you steady as he glances up at you. “Texas.” He clears his throat, looking unsure before he continues. “I grew up in Texas. The heat was different than here, but…I’ve never seen snow.”

You smirk, watching as he slows his movements and rubs his thumb along your calf. “You’d probably hate it like everyone does.”

You both stare at each other, not sure if you should pull your leg away, ask him to leave and thank him for the ride, or see where this goes. 

You start to pull away, realizing that this is your boss for fucks sake when he tightens his grip. “I’ve always wanted to see snow on Christmas. With the lights and real snowmen…” He pauses, leaning forward and flicking his gaze to your mouth. “I don’t think I would hate it.”

You gasp when his hand slides up your leg to behind your knee, pulling you closer and over his lap more. “Peña–”

“Javi.” He breathes, taking a deep breath that expands his chest and has the buttons straining under the pressure. “I-it’s Javi.”

Your head is swimming with the feeling of his hand on you, over and over, looking from his parted mouth to his eyes. His pupils dilate, his hand tightening around you in anticipation as you start to lean forward. 

Your eyelashes flutter, closing for a moment before opening them again and finding your nose brushing against his, his eyes cast down to watch you ponder the next best move. “Javi,” You whisper hoarsely, swearing you can taste the mix of whiskey and soda in his mouth from how he lets his bottom lip run against yours. “You’re my boss.”

He nods quickly, the bridge of his nose running against yours as he takes a deep breath. “I know.”

It’s only another split second before you make the decision, tilting your chin towards him and sealing your mouth to his. 

He groans, wrapping his hand around the back of your head and into your hair to hold you to him. He swirls his tongue with yours, eager and ready to have you against him and not moving away to take a breath. 

He pulls you closer, bracketing his own hips with your thighs, digging his fingers into your hips to hold you against him. When you begin rolling your center against his, your jeans in the way of each other, he holds you firm. “Don’t do that.” He swallows, shaking his head and looking up at you. “Unless you want me to fuck you right now.”

On wobbly legs you stand, pushing away from him enough that you can reach for the button of your pants, sliding the material down your thighs. You break out in a shiver, forgetting how heavy the air feels right now. 

Javi reaches out with one hand, running his fingers down the side of your thigh before leaning forward to wrap his hand fully around you. His other hand is expertly undoing his own jeans, eyes on you, and a smirk rising on his face. “Needy, aren’t you?”

Biting your lip has little effect on your ability to keep your noises at bay, a groan coming out of your mouth as his fingers grip into the plush skin on your ass. “You’re just as bad.”

“Oh really?” He laughs, pulling you to your previous position hovering over him. “Work for it then.” 

Your thoughts stutter, furrowing your brow as you shakily bring a hand down to the opening of his pants. Gently wrapping your fingers around him, jeans halfway down his thighs already and not a pair of boxers in sight, you swear your mouth begins to water. You glance back up to his face, his knowing wink giving you pause. “What do you want me to do?”

He tilts his head, a small smile rising before he licks his lower lip. “Don’t just stare at it, ride it.”

You gasp at how quickly he reaches forward and slides your panties to the side. His finger glides at your center, opening you up to feel how slick you’ve gotten for him. He groans, satisfied with what he finds as he holds the fabric with his thumb, his other hand roughly guiding you by the hip to sit lower. 

The head of his cock presses into you in one instant, and in the next, you’re fully seated on top of him. Thighs tight, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead, you whine at the feeling of him inside you. He shushes you, bringing one bruising hand up from your hip to your face, moving your hair out of your eyes. “I know, Hermosa. Too big for you, huh?” You nod, feeling faint as you shut your eyes for a moment. He taps roughly with two fingers on your cheek.  “Easy now, don’t lose focus.”

Your eyes snap open as he shifts his hips up, his hair at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit. He begins thrusting, holding you steady by where his hand is placed on your cheek, digging into the hair at the nape of your neck. Your mouth opens, slack-jawed at the feeling of him thrusting up into you. 

“That’s it.” He growls, pulling your head back tighter. “Just like that.” He pistons up, leaning further back on your couch and pulling you away from him so he can better get a view of you. You’re taking it, turned on, and pretty sure you’re ruining his jeans in the process. 

He doesn’t last long, and neither do you. His words, forced through his teeth and puffing breaths spur you on to the finish line, his own orgasm leaving a mess on your underwear and stomach. He pulls out quickly, hurriedly rubbing at himself with your slick covering him before closing his eyes and moaning as ropes of his spend stick to you. 

Standing on shaking legs, you walk toward your bathroom, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before looking in the mirror briefly. You look like you’ve been fucked-hair a nest on your head, your underwear wet. When you step back out toward the living room, ready to offer him a towel or the shower, you stop dead in your tracks when you don’t see him immediately. 

Confused, you step into the kitchen, looking around briefly before stepping back into your living room. The soda is half gone on your coffee table, and the kitchen towel that he brought is tossed haphazardly on the couch. You look toward your front door and notice his boots are gone just as the lights from a car shine through your window. Peña had just fucked you and ditched. 

It hadn’t really been a surprise to you that Peña wanted to pretend like nothing had happened. Just a quick fuck, and nothing serious-you could handle that. Peña must have thought you would be beating down his door because he avoided you for two full weeks before reappearing in the office at the same time you were there. 

You had continued on; business as usual. 

It surprised Peña so much that when you had gone into his office to give him reports to review and then left soon after, he was at your apartment that night asking what your issue was. 

“It was a one-time thing.” Peña was circling your island, rubbing at his jaw and eyeing you every once in a while. 

“I figured.” You roll your eyes, leaning against the doorway. “Do you have something you need me to do, related to our job? Because if not, can you just leave?”

“Was I more hammered than I thought?” He questioned, looking at you incredulously. “I swear you came.”

“I did.” You confirm. 

“Then, how are you…are you not? I don’t-” he growled frustrated, running his hands through his hair. 

“I’m not obsessed with you. Is that what you’re asking?” You laugh, shaking your head. “We were drunk, we fucked. You’re my boss, I’m your employee. Let’s just move on. Now will you leave?” 

“I don’t want you to be obsessed with me.” He says quietly, face going red with embarrassment. 

“Great, I’m not.” You shrug, tapping your fingers against your pant leg. 

He stares at you, grinding his teeth before he steps toward where you appear relaxed. He’s silent as he reaches out, running the back of his finger against your exposed arm. You shiver, rolling your eyes at how he smiles. 

You tilt your head at him, asking with your eyes what are you doing? As he shrugs, he kneels in front of you, hands coming up to hover over your pants. “Let me feel you, hermosa.”

You and Peña continued like this, back and forth for weeks. He would eye you a certain way after berating you in his office as code to meet in the archives. 

You would say something snarky with Jason and David looking on, and he would show up at your apartment later that night. 

Or sometimes, you both would stay late, working until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore to then look up and see Peña still sitting at his desk in a similar state as you were. He would sigh heavily, call you into his office, and tell you to go home like everyone else had. 

You never did. 

This seemed to be the most stable thing in your life, even though you and Peña were not an item, and adamantly told each other so when he was deep inside you or when your throat was constricting around him. 

You thought everything was routine at this point-yeah, you fucked your boss, and you still argued with him, but the job wasn’t bad. You were making headway into things that Peña and your team worked on extensively to get to the bottom of the cartel. And when you were having another meeting with Peña, Jason, and David, you were shocked to find out that Peña had a new job for you. 

“I need you to go into the jungle.” He said, looking directly at you with a pinched mouth. 

You stared at him, trying to assess what that exactly meant as Jason and David stared between the two of you. “And do what, exactly?” You question, flicking your eyes over him. 

“I need intel on Gabriel Loreas. He is an upcoming drug dealer that is supposed to be the local cops' responsibility.” He says quickly, flipping through the file on his desk before leaning back and crossing his feet. 

“So why have her go out there?” Jason questions quietly, concern covering his face. 

Peña’s eyes flash in anger, raking over Jason. “Because I don’t trust the locals to not screw me over in the end. And…we have a mole.” David and Jason begin bickering, Peña cutting them off. “I need someone that can infiltrate his home without causing suspicion.”

“And why can’t that be one of us? No offense,” David turns apologetically to you. “But it’s extremely dangerous to be doing that alone.”

Peña rolls his neck, trying to hold his temper. “His security guards are looking for…working girls.”

It’s silent in the office as Jason and David look toward you, bug-eyed and scared. You take a deep breath, chuckling quietly. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Peña freezes, eyes widening briefly before leaning forward. “Now, listen–”

“You want me to whore myself out? For your little side mission? Like I’m some piece of meat?” Your voice is increasing in volume, Jason wincing at the sound of you wobbling through the last few words. He knew how you felt being used as bait while in Miami, and now it seemed to be happening all over again. 

“Everyone out.” Peña glared at Jason and David, waiting for them to file out of his office, and shut the door tightly behind them. 

When his eyes find you, he stays frozen while you remain stoic. He takes a deep breath, cursing under his breath briefly. “I need you to help me out, here.”

You attempt to not scoff. “Why the fuck should I be doing anything you say?”

“You don’t have to actually do anything.” He’s earnest, stepping closer to you while one hand rests on his hip. 

You can’t help the emotion lacing your voice. “You’re kidding.” Shaking your head, you open your arms wide. “How do you expect me to get anywhere without actually offering up anything?”

He growls in irritation, taking another step toward you. “I just need you to stakeout-talk to the men that come back into town, and get a feel for it. When things get heavier we will send Jason and David out.”

You stare at Peña for another minute, waiting to see if he flinches. If you can see the shift, the change of mind. When you don’t, you sigh. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

It’s like a blow to the chest as he steps back. “What?”

“You heard me.” You snarl, opening the door so Jason and David can hear your announcement as well. 

As you step out, not waiting to see if Peña has anything else to say, Jason follows you to the elevator. “I’ll talk to him, don’t–”

“It’s fine, Jason.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I just need to get in the right mindset. Don’t worry about it; I don’t want you telling Peña anything.”

He shuffles, holding the elevator open. “Are you sure? He’s such a hard ass to you, maybe if I tell him what you told me he would change up his plans…”

You give him a forced smile, grabbing his wrist and pulling it out of the way. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As the elevator door slides closed with a small wave from Jason, you see Peña’s eyes watching, assessing the interaction. As the door shuts, you take a deep breath and exhale, trying to recenter yourself before stepping into the parking garage. 

You had an inkling of who it would be when you heard a knock on your door a few hours later. You sit on your couch, silent as you wait, and hope that Peña will just walk away. He will understand that you need space. 

You had already cried the minute you stepped over the threshold, feeling that pit in your stomach that you always got when you stepped out onto the docks in Miami. How hands and lips felt against your heated skin where you didn’t want them–

“Hermosa,” Peña calls through your door, jiggling the handle to test if it is locked. “I know you’re there. Let me in.”

You sigh again, waiting for another knock before slinking over to the door and quietly unlocking the deadbolt. He hears it, pushing open the door quickly after and coming face to face with you. 

He huffs, kicking the door shut and shrugging out of his suit jacket. “Were you not going to let me in?”

“No.” You say quietly, sitting on your couch and back down to the book you have bookmarked with a receipt from the corner store. 

He’s silent, standing above you while you refuse to make eye contact. He’s waiting for you to break, but you’re too tired to. When he finally caves, you try to control your lips from ticking up in the corners. “I really need this, hermosa.”

You pick at your fingernails, patiently waiting. 

He sighs again. “There’s a lot of money on the line. Like, millions, if what I’ve been told is correct. The local guys, they’re getting paid on the side by this guy and I need someone in there.”

He’s pacing now, back and forth in front of your coffee table. 

You break your silence, leaning back and crossing your arms. “What’s in it for me?”

Peña pauses, turning to you. He looks flustered, hands having run through his hair by how it sticks out away from the side of his head. “Cash. Cold, hard cash.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “So, I will really be a whore then, won’t I?”

He frowns, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want you doing that.” He stretches his neck, clicking his tongue in disgust. “You just, pretend. Don’t do anything crazy–”

You feel anger bubble up inside, over your tongue, and spitting out at him. “You don’t fucking get it, do you?” 

He freezes, shocked in front of you. 

“I don’t get to just say no. I have to be stronger to say no. I have to be strapped to say no. I have to be cute enough to say no. I can’t just not do something once I’ve pretended to offer those things, Javi. These aren’t college boys trying to not catch a rape charge.”

He waits, biting the inside of his mouth as he grows more frustrated. He must know you’re right, must understand what he’s asking you to do. “I won’t let them.” He says quietly, flicking his gaze up to yours. “You have my word, hermosa.”

“I can’t trust that.” You feel worn and tired of the argument. You’ve resigned to the fact that you will have to do this if you plan on keeping your job, and you do plan on it. “I’ll do what you ask of me. It’s my job.”

“I won’t let them touch you.” He growls, reaching forward and squeezing your arms so tightly you squeak. “You’re not going to get hurt in this. I won’t allow it.”

It’s pitiful, really, how you want to laugh in his face. He doesn’t understand, because he’s a man. No matter his reputation with working girls, he doesn’t know. You attempt to pull away from him, but his fingers dig harder into your skin. “Go home, Peña.”

He clicks his tongue at you, tilting his head as if to threaten you. “What happened to Javi, bonita?”

You go to protest, trying and failing again to pull away as he pushes you toward your couch. You clumsily sit back, frowning at him. “I’ll do the job. It’s fine–”

“Lay back.” He barks, kneeling in front of you, his fingers working quickly at the button of your pants. 

You shake your head, resting your hand over his in a silent question. 

He ignores you, pulling the waistline over your hips and down your thighs, underwear soon following as cool air wicks over your skin. You shiver, the contact of his warm fingers, calloused over and rough, over your skin has your legs relaxing wide. 

He lifts one leg easily over his shoulder, smirking when his eyes land on your center. Without further warning, his tongue swipes up your folds, spreading you wide with a groan. “I can’t stop wanting this.”

You throw your head back, unsure if what he said was meant for himself or for you. Words are stuck in your throat, fingers wrapped tightly in his hair, and pulling as his tongue swirls over your clit and down to your center. You want to tell him to keep going, to make you come, but you’re afraid that if you voice your want he will retreat from you. 

One hand squeezes into the skin of your thigh resting on his shoulder, his other working the buttons of his shirt open before coming to your entrance with a sigh. He lets his tongue rest there for a moment, pressing in with the tip and letting you contract around him.  

Javi pulls away, muttering under his breath as he slides one finger into you, a quick “Fuck, so wet for me.” before wrapping his lips around your clit again. 

You swear he would be laughing at you for how quickly you crumbled to his touch if he wasn’t busy with his mouth around you. “Please, I–”

Another smirk appears as he pulls away, curling his fingers inside you to search for that spot he has found again and again. “I won’t let you come,” He breathes, pressing a kiss to your shaking thigh. “Unless you agree to the job.”

You huff, breaths labored and your stomach tightens. “I already agreed.”

“Nuh-uh, mean it hermosa.” He nips your skin, chuckling as your hips jump in an attempt to get away, only pressing his fingers deeper. “Be my little slut, and I’ll share the cash with you.”

You close your eyes to try to focus, his fingers pressing, pressing, pressing against that spot inside of you that he has an obsession with, holding your breath. It’s overwhelming, the pressure in your core building and overheating. 

Sweat pools in the dip of your collarbone, the shirt you still have on soaking it up as you pull on his hair again. “Yes, yes–fuck. I’ll do it.” 

Javi hums, leaning forward again to press his lips to your center, his tongue and fingers working in tandem as a wave of ecstasy crashes over your skin. 

You’re floating, feeling him slow between your legs and breathe against your skin. He says something you can’t really hear, gently setting your leg down on the floor before adjusting himself. A pointed look is thrown your way, your furrowed brow indicating that you didn’t hear him. 

He shakes his head, wiping at his mustache for a moment. “Stakeout starts next week.”

[tyrianluda]

Y'all need to chill over classic heavy jesus fucking christ

Okay. Okay. I understand why the fandom doesn't like classic heavy but he is VERY overhated. I know the mercs aren't saints in the slightest and a character being "mean" isn't a dealbreaker for me. Him calling Medic a demeaning term and killing Archimedes is barely anything in comparison to what we see the mercs do without any thought. But it probably has something to do with familiarity and how they are depicted.

The mercs are written to be somewhat absurd (at least in the comics); medic literally outsmarted the devil and has the rest of the mercs' souls. So when the mercs are harsh or rude, it's easier for the audience to handle personally because they aren't meant to be completely seriously. That and also we are more familiar with them as opposed to c!heavy, so we expect it more from them. There is a difference between the mercs & c!heavy obviously, but just not enough to make him particularly morally reprehensible.

I personally really like the writing for c!heavy; just not a huge fan over him. But, depicting him as especially evil and portraying him as a one-dimensional 'villain' misses the point. He's more of an opposing force to the mercs, which is actually kinda morally neutral. He is an antagonist; not a villain. Technically, all of the characters in TF2 would be considered villains. None of those mfs are sane or morally upstanding.

And depicting c!heavy as a rapist makes no sense as well as just being a incredibly tasteless way of handling him. A character can be a dipshit without them being a rapist, shocking I know (sarcasm). If you are unable to write an antagonist without having them being monstrous in a way that is completely unenjoyable to the audience, you suck at depicting antagonists.

[luneemeritus]

This scene is so sad for Angel. As someone who already has several trust issues, he finds out there is a traitor in the Hotel, that is working for the Vees (one of them is his rapist/abuser, Velvette other made the love potion that is used to abuse him, and Vox putted more than 5 cameras in his room, it's literally Hell), is slutshamed by the traitor and attacked with a psychodelic confusion, something he is unfortunately used to (be drugged against his will is probably a similar sensation). It's twice sad because moments ago, Vaggie and Charlie literally told Angel AT HIS FUCKING FACE that he "wasn't trying" and that Pentious was "truly interested".

When I say Charlie wants to help but doesn't know how, I mean it. The first person who actually understood and helped Angel was Husk.

[therealslimshakespeare]

https://www.tumblr.com/precious-little-scoundrel/752520514027814912/also-im-not-saying-that-maybe-some-of-the?source=share

the scary thing about this is that you literally said it was SS officials that assaulted smith, and that they did it in a clinical and repetitive way to break the other girls down. and that they particularly targeted her because they knew she was young and dear to the rest. and what's to stop them from threatening that again to discourage bad behaviour? it wouldn't be hard for them to realize how the guys and everyone else feels about her

This is a massive plot point in the future because -indeed what is to stop them?

Also!! I literally just wrote about this in the one shot I’m wrapping up- omg

Those Who Can Sneak Peak:

She watched the girl perk up, brave cheerfulness fluttering across her features, no less genuine for all that it was forced, “I’m alright. It’s easier here but I can’t sleep much, and I’m so scared it’s going to happen again. There’s dogs everywhere.”

Ida winced at that. “Cleven won’t let that happen.” she insisted gently, “You stick with who he puts you with and if they don’t stick with you then you tell him, he’ll get someone else. Really Smith, speak up.”

“Ok.” she muttered, “It’s been Murph or Crank so far, they’re never away.”

“Good.”

“It’s just-“ Smith’s deep brown eyes grew watery and Ida braced, “-what can they do? If the Germans really wanna? What can they actually do about it? I don’t think -oh Ida I don’t think I could take it, the way they did it in front of you -I couldnt take it, not in front of our boys. I’d wanna die this time, I would. I’d wanna die.”

It hurt, the heavy pressure of Smith’s face buried in Ida’s wounded belly, but the poor girl was suddenly sobbing and Ida impulsively ran her fingers through oily black strands, humming gently and ineffectively. What was there to say about that? What could she say to that? “Everyone here would die before watching that, Lu.” was all she could come up with, but it was true as truth could be. “And they can’t shoot up a whole stalag, they can’t,” she went on, it was soothing to hear herself spout such ephimerally comforting bulshit, “so, if they tried, that’s a dead end. Not gonna happen ever again, Smith, it won’t. We won’t let it.”

[doriandrifting]

TW: THREATS OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/SA

Their masks are really coming all the way off, and it’s horrifying. Like imagine saying this anyone, let alone a complete stranger???

[bynux]

I love all the fuckin radfem dipshits blaming trans women et al. for Lyft "needing to have a ride share option for just women and enbies bc they're just women with cool hair, right? AMAB enbies? What are those?" despite the obvious rebuttal that we, too, get harassed by seedy men on these rides, and are actually at more of a risk of harassment and assault if they clock us as trans.

Read a fucking book and stop acting like we're somehow the cause of patriarchy. We want to not be SA'd just as much as you do.

[remakethestars]

Man, Hogwarts really is wild

In GOF, they get the Unforgivable Curses lesson with "Moody" -- can y'all imagine if your teacher came in one morning with a small animal and tortured it and killed it in front of a bunch of fourteen-year-olds? And then, while some kids are clearly upset, everyone else is like, "Woah, that's so cool. What a great lesson!"

According to the wiki, they learn to make the erumpent potion in fifth year -- can you imagine taking chemistry class as a fifteen-year-old, and the teacher walks in like, "Wassup, you insufferable brats, today we're gonna learn to make napalm!" Like, that's a great thing to teach a bunch of fifteen-year-old boys how to do?? This could definitely only end well 🫠

Sixth year? Amortentia. Can you imagine your chemistry teacher coming in and teaching a bunch of sixteen-year-old boys how to make fuckin' rohypnol???? Like, who tf thought this was a good idea??? I'd drop out and switch schools immediately; why tf do they need to know that??!!! I no longer feel safe here

And then they teach your how to make poisons!!! 😃

Also sixth year: elixir to induce euphoria -- your chem teacher teaches the entire class how to roll a joint, ig?

[ginza-division]

"God seems to have left the receiver off the hook and time is running out."

Timeline:

Age 0:

Is born to two unknown people in Tokyo, Japan.

She has little memories of her time with them.

Age 4:

She is, for some reason, placed in foster care by her parents with no explanation.

She begins to dislike the foster care system because of the children, who make fun of and bully her, and the adults, who consider her a nuisance.

She finds that she likes things a certain way, and likes counting things by '10'.

Age 5:

She is adopted by another couple, who wants a daughter for their estranged son, Chihiro.

Though she tries to appear friendly to her new older brother, he ignores her and verbally abuses her when their parents aren't around.

Though the daughter tries to tell her parents, they assume she is joking and don't believe her.

Chihiro's abuse towards her starts to turn physical.

The daughter finds it easier to stay out of his way.

Age 6:

One day, she loses it and beats her brother to an inch of her life, leaving him badly disfigured.

She is sent back to foster care by her ex-parents, who are now scared of her.

She spends her time in solitary, being kept away from other kids.

Age 7:

She is once again adopted; this time, by a single parent, Uehashi Torajiro.

He is, in fact, a criminal involved in sex and slave trafficking.

She gets punished for the smallest of infractions.

She learns to be quiet and do as she's told, less she gets punished.

Unfortunately, she gets punished even when she has done nothing wrong, as Torajiro is a sadist.

She is frequently locked up in a dark room with only a red lightbulb as a light source.

She begins to love the color 'red'.

Age 9:

Eventually, the police get an anonymous tip about the girl's father.

They make a raid on his house, and he is killed in the process.

The blood splatter reminds the girl of all of the abuse she has suffered, thus far.

She loses her mind and attacks the police as they are trying to help her.

She is given a sedative, which instantly knocks her out.

She is sent to a psychiatrist to elevate her for any mental defects.

She is, unfortunately, sent back to the foster care system.

She beats up an older boy who was bothering and was wearing a red shirt.

She is, again, put in solitary, away from the other kids.

Her 'dislike' for the foster care system turns into a 'hatred'.

Age 10:

After a year of psychiatric treatment, she is deemed stable and is allowed to be put up for adoption again.

She is adopted once more by a couple who, unfortunately, cannot have children.

She instinctively doesn't trust them, due to not having good memories of foster families.

The couple proves themselves to be nice and trustworthy, though the girl still doesn't fully accept them.

Due to previous trauma, she tries to flirt and "please" her father.

She is later instructed that that is not appropriate behavior, and that she shouldn't do that.

Age 11:

After a year of staying with them, she begins to open up and trust them a bit.

For the first time in a long time, she is happy.

Age 12:

She calls the couple 'mom' and 'dad', accepting them as parents.

Her mother frequently plants flowers and gardens around the house. The young girl finds them pretty and calming.

Age 14:

Despite being homeschooled for most of her life, she is deemed smart enough to start high school.

Her parents are tragically killed one day while they are in a government building.

The perpetrators behind the bombing call themselves "Scorpion Den".

The girl spots one of the members fleeing the scene, burning her face into her mind.

The girl refuses to go back to foster care; instead, she makes a living on the streets.

She is frequently beaten and hurt for stealing and shoplifting.

Age 15:

One day, she is about to be beaten and abused by a bunch of older kids.

Before they can do anything, she is suddenly saved by a mysterious boy with a 'wolf-like' appearance, who kills the kids.

He looks back at her, throws her some money, and then walks off.

She falls in love with the boy at first sight and wants to know more about him.

Later, she is approached by a strange priest who offers her home and food.

She is initially suspicious but is won over by his kind words and appearance.

He introduces himself as 'Masa Judice' and asks if she wishes to be his daughter.

She doesn't answer right away, but Masa allows her to stay for as long as she wants in his church.

After a week, she agrees to be his daughter.

The priest begins molding her mind, turning her into a corrupt and remorseless killer.

Age 16:

After months of training and molding her, he pits her against some other street kids.

She effortlessly kills them all, which makes Masa name her the leader of his gang, "The Crossroads."

She names herself "Juu" because it means '10', which she loves.

While on a job, she comes across the boy who previously saved her. She learns his name is 'Max'.

As she approaches him, she spots him staring at a girl whom Juu immediately recognizes: the girl who killed her parents two years ago.

Doing research, she learns her name is "Sumire Shinomiya".

She swears revenge against Sumire and her group, "Scorpion Den".

She meets her father's partner, Eiji Noguchi, whom is slightly afraid of her.

Age 17:

Present.

She actively works with "The Crossroads" to disrupt any operation Scorpion Den is working on.

She meets her father's other teammate, Oki Teagan, whom, for some reason, she admires. She dubs him her "big brother".

Her father makes plans to join the Division Rap Battle Tournament.

She does research on the tournament and on the HypMics.

She kills a thug who has an illegal HypMic.

She has Ippei Fujimoto, a.k.a. "The Scientist", try to create a genuine HypMic from the Illegal HypMic.

She secretly joins the Ginza Division rap battle team, Last Judgment, alongside Masa Judice, Eiji Noguchi, and Oki Teagan.

Schedule

12 a.m. - 2 a.m.: Doing work with "The Crossroads"

2 a.m. - 2:30 a.m.: Returns home and reports to Masa

2:30 a.m. - 6:30 a.m.: Asleep

6:30 a.m. - 8:30 a.m.: Freshens up and gets ready for school

8:30 a.m. - 9 a.m.: Eats breakfast on the way to school

9 a.m. - 12 p.m.: Class

12 p.m. - 1 p.m.: Lunch

1 p.m. - 2 p.m.: Class

2 p.m. - 2:30 p.m.: Stalks Max

2:30 p.m. - 3 p.m.: Returns home

3 p.m. - 5 p.m.: Does homework

5 p.m. - 7:30 p.m.: Helps and eats dinner with Masa

7:30 p.m. - 9 p.m.: Free time

9 p.m. - 10 p.m.: Prepares for night with "The Crossroads"

10 p.m. - 12 a.m.: Doing work with "The Crossroads"

Character Hashtags

Regular Hashtags

#Everything for the Father

#Max & Juu sitting in a tree

#Diabla burns in Hell

Trauma Hashtags

#A building in smoke and flames

#Used and abused

#I LOVE THE RED LIGHT

Other Info

Hobby: Sharpening Tools

Weakness: Bipolar Disorder

Trauma: "This world is cold and unfair; I give and give, but never get anything back."

Twitter: @10ismyfavoritenumber

Drinks: No

Smokes: No

Special Skill: "I'm a master of torture. It's no fun killing them right off. You have to make them wish they were dead. Hehehe~"

Intro Quote: "Oh, new a toy to play with! Try not to break as easily as the last one, okay? Hehehe~"

Trauma Quote: "Let me go! My parents are in there! I have to save them! Let me go! ...Mommy! Daddy! Noooooo!"

Ending Quote: "...8...9...10! Ready or not, here I come! Hehehe~"

[javathewildone]

One Day - Heartland AU (Part 36)

Parts: 35 ...37 Trigger Warnings: discussions of rape and abortion

A thump jolted Amy awake. She opened her eyes expecting it to be morning, but the window was dark. The light she initially thought to be the sun was her bedside lamp. It took a second for her to remember she turned it on to read more of “What to Expect…” and must have fallen asleep. Now awake, her bladder was screaming for release so she twisted out of bed to find her book on the floor. Picking it up she straightened the pages and set it back on the nightstand. 

The house was dark and still when she crept out of her room to the bathroom. On her way back down the hall, Amy paused when she remembered the dvd she’d left in the barn. Now would be the perfect time to sneak out to get it. 

Amy swore under her breath when she was met with a locked office door. The barn door was also closed, but thankfully not locked. Giving it a tug, she winced at the squeak of the rollers on the old track. A horse inside nickered a greeting, probably thinking it was feeding time. 

Holding her breath, Amy quickly, yet quietly, felt along the walls for a lightswitch, her fingers brushing over wood and bumping into leather. Her foot connected with an empty pail, sending it scraping across the concrete. She froze, listening for noise in the loft.

Ty jumped awake, sitting bolt upright on the old loft bed, the whole frame creaking. 

Sucking in a breath, Amy was prepared to backpedal out of the barn and return to the house but when she didn’t hear any footsteps of Ty coming to investigate she decided to just keep going. It would take her just a second to eject the disk then duck out the office door so long as she could get there without falling on her face. 

Ty remained still as he listened to the intruder maneuver about the dark space, failing at being quiet if that was their intention. 

Amy. It had to be. What was she doing sneaking around at night again?

The opening and closing of drawers made him remember. Her dvd. The one he took and had sitting on his dresser. Shit. 

It was gone. Amy’s stomach knotted when she ejected the tray from the computer to find it empty. She hoped whoever found it just put it in the case and tucked it away somewhere. Switching on the desk lamp she checked under the files and paperwork. When that came up empty, she started digging into the drawers, her search becoming less careful with each empty hiding spot. 

“Looking for this.”

Amy let out an audible gasp, jerking  around to face Ty in the doorway. Total deja vu.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” he drawled, but Amy was focused on the slim case he held up between his fingers. Why did he have it? 

“That’s mine.” Yet she made no move to take it back.

“You lied to me last night,” he accused, stepping forward and tossing the disk onto the desk in front of her. “You weren’t checking the weather.”

Amy swallowed, dropping her gaze to the case. “Did you watch it?”

Ty hesitated. Considered lying despite just calling Amy out on hers. “It was still running on the laptop.”

Heat rushed to her face. “You had no right,” she snapped, snatching up the disk and holding it protectively against her chest. 

“Why didn’ you just tell me you were watching your sonogram footage?” 

Anger flared in her chest. “Because it was private and I don’t need to tell you anything.” 

Ty lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Like I said, it was still running. I had to open it to properly shut it down.”

“Bullshit,” Amy hissed. “Then why did you take it?” When Ty didn’t have an answer for that accusation, Amy straightened into a defensive posture. “You waited for me to leave and went searching for proof that I lied.”

She wasn’t wrong. But the intention wasn’t malicious. 

“If you’d told me the truth I wouldn’t have had to find it on my own,” he argued calmly, trying to keep his annoyance in check.

Amy bristled. “You know why I didn’t tell you the truth? Because I don’t trust you. Dancing with you tonight only reminded me of that.” Storming around the desk, she flipped the lock on the office door and shoved it open then slammed it behind her.

Ty flinched at the bang.  Amy might as well have slapped him from the way her words stung. Though he wasn’t surprised to hear them, he was surprised by how they actually affected him. Amy hadn’t yet been able to trust anyone since she arrived except maybe Soraya and possibly Jack. Ty knew he did absolutely everything to destroy all chance of that. Gritting his teeth, he rushed out of the barn after her. 

“Amy, wait.”

“God, can you just stop following me,” Amy growled around a clenched jaw.

Ty sped up. “Not until you talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she yelled back. She didn’t realize how close Ty had gotten until he stepped in her path and she plowed right into his chest. Immediately her arms came between them to shove him away even though he lifted his hands out of the way to avoid touching her at all. 

In the house, Jack woke to the commotion outside. His motion to sit up stirred Lisa. “What is it?” 

“Don’t know,” he mumbled, swinging out of bed and reaching for his twelve gauge that he kept next to it. “Stay here.”

Lisa was wide awake at the sight of the gun. “Jack,” she whisper-hissed, her fingers brushing over the back of his shirt that she reached to grab too late. She scrambled out of bed after him, catching up as he was peering through the kitchen window. “What’s going on?”

He narrowed his sight to see into the dark. “Amy and Ty.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “What?” She quickly moved to the window.

“Then just listen.” Ty didn’t yield his place in her path when Amy shoved him, just backed up a few steps. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have snooped.”

“Fine.” Amy muttered, skirting around him and heading for the porch. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he called.

Amy stalled at the top of the stairs, her breath hitching in her chest. Lisa and Jack both leaned down, watching the tense exchange curiously. 

Ty moved closer until he was at the bottom of the steps. She waited for him to say more while he waited for her to take a running leap inside. For a full minute they remained at an impasse before Ty broke the silence. “Listen, I get it. Life threw you a curveball you weren’t at all prepared to deal with. Talking about it means facing it and when you aren’t ready to face it it becomes this… demon that haunts you. Torments you.” 

Twisting around, Amy scowled down at him. Was he calling her baby a demon? She pressed her lips together to keep from retorting, waiting to see if he had a point. 

“A while back I got involved with some bad people who convinced me to do some things for them. Illegal things. I got caught and spent five years in prison,” he continued, surprising Amy with his spontaneous confession. She didn’t expect to ever hear the details of Ty’s story. At least not directly from him. “When I got out last year I just wanted to find my way back to normal. I was a disaster for so long I burned all my bridges and then refused to face the reality I created for myself.” Seeing he had Amy’s attention Ty paused to take in a deep breath. “It took me almost losing my grandad to shake some sense into me.”

Lisa reached out to grip Jack’s arm, recalling his heart attack and then the harrowing months of recovery after. A time they’d all rather forget.

 Amy’s face softened. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re not as alone here as you seem to think.” His shoulders rose in a nonchalant shrug before he turned to head back to the loft to sleep for a few more hours.

She didn’t know why, but watching Ty turn tail to the barn struck a nerve. “Says the guy who chooses to sleep in the barn rather than under the same roof as me.” 

It was Ty’s turn to stop mid stride. 

Amy leaned against the rail, gripping the wood tightly as she stared at his back. “Does it really bother you so much that I’m here?” 

Ty sighed, knowing the short answer was not going to be received well. “Yes.” He turned around in time to see Amy  press her lips in a thin line. Her jaw worked and she nodded, needing no further explanation. But Ty went on to give the long answer when she went for the door.

“It’s not… you. It’s the whole situation.” he blurted before she could slam his own front door in his face. When she turned to face him again  he was back at the bottom of the steps.

“The. Situation.” Amy repeated, unsure of what that even meant. Was he talking about her pregnancy? Her father certainly liked to use that term when referring to it. Like it was something in need of handling. She looked down her nose at him, waiting.

“You coming here with this whole secret past none of us know about.” 

“So it is me.” Amy shot back, cutting him off.

“No.” Ty ran an exasperated hand through his hair. How could he tell her he knew what happened without upsetting her? The answer was he couldn’t. At any rate, he didn’t know it for 100 percent certain. He had a theory that was supported by strong evidence. “I just think if we knew all the facts we’d be able to better help you.”

“You don’t seem to have any interest in helping me.” Amy folded her arms across her chest, hearing the lack of conviction in her own voice. Despite their bumpy start, the last couple days felt like things were maybe starting to smooth over. 

That wasn’t true, but he could see how Amy would believe that. “Because you act like you don’t want to be helped. You’re clutching so desperately to your secrets like it’s you versus the world when it doesn’t have to be. But if we don’t know the whole story, we can’t protect you.” Ty took a step up, forcing Amy to step back. He retreated back to the ground.

Her arms tightened to her body and the hardness eased from her face to be replaced with weariness. “Why would you need to protect me?”

Ty hesitated while he weighed the heavy pros and cons of the can of worms he was about to open. In the end, he decided what did it matter if she already detested him anyway. “Who’s the father, Amy?”

Amy’s spine went rigid. “Just some guy,” she repeated her go-to brush off answer. Everyone assumed it was a one night stand gone wrong. She was fine with that. At least until people then believed her to be a loose woman. She wasn’t fine with that. Because then people seemed to think it gave them permission to proposition her.

“What’s his name?” Ty pushed, knowing he was trying his luck and uncomfortably close to repeating what happened in the barn last week. But he didn’t advance from his place at the bottom of the steps. If she wanted to run, the path was clear.

“It’s none of your business,” Amy replied curtly. The same answer she gave him countless times since her arrival.

“Maybe not. But it is his. And theirs.” He nodded toward her belly. “What are you going to say when they start asking questions about their father?”

“Again, not your business.” Amy didn’t say she hoped the father never found out. Ever. She didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to know. Her child, well, that could very likely be a problem for someone else. 

“We need to get off this carousel sometime, Amy,” he sighed.

She frowned. “What?”

“Round and round we go with this same conversation until you storm off to sulk and I get read the riot act. Aren’t you tired? Cause I’m exhausted and it’s only been a week.”

Amy was tired. Exhausted, like Ty, perhaps moreso. Physically. Emotionally. The nightmares. The inmates. The prying questions. The uncertainty of her future. The constant fear of the truth outing her shame. Not to mention the unknown location of the man who was responsible for all of it. Knowing nothing of him was both a blessing and a curse. 

“You won’t break me,” she answered, determination hardening her quiet tone. 

Ty’s voice was gentle. “I doubt there’s anything left to break.” 

Amy’s stomach clenched. She blinked rapidly to stay the sudden threat of tears and looked away from him. It scared her that he was able to figure her out so easily. She didn’t know what he discovered or assumed of her, but he managed to chisel away at the truth in spite of her best efforts to deter him. She was broken. Broken and barely hanging onto the few pieces of herself that remained.

“You’ve managed to find a few things,” she muttered, staring out toward the neglected garden. 

“Well, that me didn’t understand the type of broken you are.” The kind that needed gentle guidance rather than a harsh reality check.

Her gaze shifted from the garden to Ty who was looking at her with an expression that seemed foreign on his face. A gentleness she was unfamiliar with. “And what type of broken is that?”  

“You’ve lost your trust in people. They hurt you. Abandoned you.” He paused. “Tormented you.” Slowly, Ty took the step again and remained when Amy didn’t back away. “You’re not unlike the horses we work with here.”

Amy scoffed and looked away. 

“I’m not trying to insult you,” Ty went on. “I’m just explaining how I came to understand you. How I came to understand why Jack brought you here.”

“And yet you say I don’t belong.”

Ty sucked in a breath. “It’s the inmates that worry me. I never thought it was a good idea to have someone like you here with them. After the episode with Hank, I thought you���d feel the same.”

Amy shuddered at the memory of being cornered by Hank. The intense way he looked at her like he could see the truth written on her forehead. “He does make me uncomfortable.” And yet the things he said had her desperate to find out more of what he knew.

“I know. Because he knew you.” Ty lifted a hand when Amy’s head shot up. “Not like that.” Except it was like that but that was the last thing Amy needed to hear right then. “I mean he saw you. Your pain. He knew what broke you because he’s seen it before.”

I already know your story. Amy’s heart thumped fast and heavy, visible by the deep rise and fall of her chest. Then why had he acted as he had? To get it out of her? Or because he knew she was already damaged so maybe she wouldn’t put up much of a fight.

Ty could see the fright ignite in her eyes. She looked like a deer about to bound off into the forest to get away from danger. But he came this far. “Hank is serving a life sentence for murder. The man he killed… the man he killed raped three people.” People. Kids. Ty spared her the horrific details.

Amy jerked back, her breaths coming faster and louder. “No.” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. She was shaking. The floodgates on her memories burst open and the whole horrifying night rushed forth.

“That’s what happened, isn’t it? You were raped.” The word cut through the air like a knife. It might as well have been.

Ty’s voice echoed in her head, overlapping with another voice. A deeper, more sinister baritone. Amy’s hands flew to clamp hard over her ears, wanting to shut them all up. “Stop!”

Whether she was yelling at Ty or the memories pounding through her was impossible to tell. Ty felt a sharp jab in his chest at the sight of Amy crumbling to the floor. Of her walls she so painstakingly guarded being reduced to rubble as the truth blew through them. 

“Amy.” He spoke her name gently, climbing the next step to reach for her. 

Lisa moved for the door but Jack grabbed her wrist, giving his head a silent shake. She looked at him with a pained expression that Jack almost couldn’t stand to see. He wanted to rush out onto the porch along with her but knew this was a moment Amy and Ty needed to get through. After all of the turmoil and fighting between them, each misinterpreting and misunderstanding the other, now was their chance to clear the air. Interrupting might cause Amy to balk and close up again. Lisa seemed to be able to read it all on Jack’s face and shifted back to lean against him at the window. 

“Don’t!” Amy gasped, seeing the motion and moving away from it. “Please, don’t. I-I can’t.” She couldn’t bear it. Not just the touch, but the pity, the heartbroken look on Ty’s face. 

Ty stopped, his hand fisting and flexing at his sides as he fought the urge to ignore her plea anyway. Instead, he slowly turned to sit on the step below where she collapsed, outside of the invisible fence she erected around herself. “You don’t know who it was?” 

Her head shook in response while she took breaths to calm herself down. “I didn’t see his face. I didn’t… I didn’t even tell anyone.” A sob broke out and she lowered her head into her hands, covering her face and wishing she could get away from the place Ty took her to with his questions. Yet she answered them because there was a part of her that knew she needed to. She needed to tell someone the truth. The whole truth. Hiding behind her trauma did nothing but isolate her and make her an easy target. 

“Until you realized you were pregnant.” He guessed, wanting to get the whole story. He didn’t know if now was the right time for it, but even getting it in pieces was better than remaining ignorant to Amy’s suffering.

She nodded, sniffing and wiping at her nose. Ty remained quiet while she gathered herself. Brushing away her tears didn’t do much but make room for more of them. 

“My dad he…” Clearing her throat, Amy inhaled a deep breath. “He was acting… strange. He’s always been on edge because of the drugs and unsolicited visits from his dealers and bookies but it was worse right before it happened. And after…” Her voice faltered. “He kept watching me. Like he was looking for the signs, waiting for me to break. He knew what happened even without me saying it and I think he knows who did it. But I was too scared to ask. I didn’t want to know. I don’t want to know. It was easier, safer, to pretend it just didn’t happen.” 

Her face crumpled again and Ty fought to keep his hands firmly to himself. He didn’t know much about Tim Fleming except what Jack told him, but he spent enough of his own time in that world to know how retaliatory tactics worked. If Tim owed his dealers money and didn’t square up, they would have gone after his family to make him pay. They would have gone after Amy. Rape, brutal as it was on its own, was not the worst they could have done. She could have been taken and tortured, maimed in some irreversible way. Or killed. 

“Then I started to sense my body changing. I missed a period, then two. I tried to ignore it. Willed fate to intervene. Eventually, I bought a test because I needed to know. When the result was positive I…” The air shuddered out of her lungs. “I shut down. Refused to acknowledge it. My dad went ahead and made an appointment for me at a clinic. All I wanted was for it to go away so I was… relieved that he made the choice for me.” Tears fell from her eyes onto the step and she began to slowly rock back and forth to comfort herself. “I didn’t want to have to live with that night for the rest of my life. To look at my body, or God forbid a baby, and be reminded of the horrible thing that happened to me.”

Ty didn’t dare interrupt Amy’s story. She was finally sharing the dark truth of what happened to her and he doubted she’d be willing to do it again. When she paused to catch her breath, wiping at the stream of tears rolling down her face, Ty glanced toward the kitchen window where he saw Lisa and Jack hovering at the sink. The window was still cracked open from Amy’s earlier cleaning spree, allowing them to hear everything. He didn’t know how long they’d been there. Judging by the way Lisa’s hand was pressed to her mouth and her eyes welled with tears, long enough. He didn’t bring Amy’s attention to them. Frankly, he was surprised either one of them managed to remain inside. From the way Jack’s hands gripped Lisa’s shoulders, he was probably holding her in place. Anchoring himself to her. Ty looked away from them when Amy lifted her head again to take a sniffling breath. 

“Obviously I didn’t go through with the abortion,” she continued quietly, her voice a rasp. She cleared her throat. “Guilt set in at the eleventh hour. The nurse called my name and I couldn’t move.” She remembered the waves of nausea bringing awareness to the life inside of her. Images of a tiny beating heart, little fingers and toes. She’d bolted from the clinic and never went back. 

“My father was upset,” she went on. “Not… angry, but scared. Frantic. He didn’t understand why I wouldn’t terminate. We fought. Said nasty, hurtful things to each other.” Amy’s lip trembled remembering their fights, especially the one when he told her he was sending her away. To Heartland. 

“Why Heartland?” Ty said finally, his first words in quite some time. His voice was gentle but tight with restrained emotion. 

Amy’s shoulders lifted in a slow shrug. “I don’t know. I think it was a last resort. He kept saying it was for the best. That I’d be safe here.”

Ty bit his lip, knowing he’d asked the question before and gotten nowhere. “Safe from what?” 

Amy blinked, her eyes red and glistening with tears. She leaned forward to rest her forearms on her knees, her blonde hair falling in a curtain in front of her face. She went quiet, continuing to rock. This time Ty didn’t press for an answer, merely waited her out. When she didn’t tense up, snap at him, or storm off, he knew the walls were coming down. 

“A week or so before…” her breath hitched and she trailed off, but Ty could fill in the unspoken words. “I came home from class to two men in our apartment. One had my father up against the wall with a gun to his head while the other trashed the place looking for something. It wasn’t the first time someone paid a visit looking for money he owed them.” 

Amy was talking so slowly, so carefully choosing her words as if testing her pain threshold before continuing onto the next piece of the story. Ty never focused so intently on anything in his life, hanging on her every word. 

“When they saw me, they grabbed me.” 

Everyone stopped breathing. Not a peep was made. Lisa’s free hand flew up to clutch Jack’s on her shoulder.

“I-I’d been threatened before. Propositioned. But never touched. They would always come to rough up my father, make their point and maybe leave with some of what he owed. But they always left me alone. I wasn’t responsible for his debts.” She whispered the last sentence in a way that felt like it was a mantra she used. That Tim’s choices were his own and she was merely innocent in the line of fire.

Amy’s eyes closed as her breathing turned ragged. She could feel the pain of the fist in her hair, the sharp sting of a knife at her throat. Her hand went to her neck, rubbing it to ease away the memory. 

“Pretty little thing you have here, Tim.” Amy shied away when the man holding her leaned to brush his mouth along her cheek. He nicked her neck with the blade jerking her into his hard chest. 

“Please, “ Tim croaked from across the room. “I’ll have what I owe you tomorrow. All of it. Just leave my daughter be.”

The gunman stepped away, lifting his finger from the trigger and tapping it against his temple in thought. “I’ll tell you what, Tim. I’ll cut you a break.” He used the weapon to point at Tim. “I’ll take half of what you owe.” He swung the gun to Amy, who froze at the sight of the barrel. “The rest can be repaid by another means.” 

His wicked grin made Amy feel sick. What was worse was the way Tim went quiet as if he were actually considering the deal. “Dad!” She exclaimed, horrified by the possibility of her own father trading her to save himself. 

Her shout snapped him out of it and he shook his head. “You’ll get your money.”

“Pity.” Knife’s breath was hot against her ear, sending a cold shiver down her spine. “We could have had some fun with this one.” 

“Let her go,” Gun growled.

Knife’s jaw tightened at the command, but he lowered the blade from Amy’s throat and released his death grip. She backed away, making sure to keep him within her sight. “How much does he owe?” 

“Fifteen,” Gun answered.

“Hundred?” She had almost half that in her bag, maybe if she gave it to them now they’d give them some time to come up with the rest.

“Thousand,” Knife corrected, the corner of his mouth lifting in a malicious smirk like he already knew there was no way Tim could pay.

The color drained from Amy’s face. Her eyes darted to her father who looked terrified and ashamed, as he very well should. “What did you do?” She whispered through a hiss of air. 

“Lost on a sure thing.” Gun mocked him. Tim swallowed, his gaze drifting to a far corner of the room. 

Gambling. On what, it didn’t matter. Tim would gamble on the weather. “You promised me you would stop this!” Amy yelled, her hands balling into tight fists. She knew better. But every time still held onto hope that this time her dad would put in the effort. She needed to stop giving him so much credit, then she couldn’t be disappointed when he neglected to follow through. 

“As much as I enjoy family drama, I have other business,” Gun said, tucking the weapon back in its holster beneath his jacket. “Twenty-four hours, Tim.” He glanced at the clock. “7:42 tomorrow evening. 15 grand, or seven and the girl.” 

Amy’s heart lurched in her chest. Seven thousand dollars was even too much for them. She doubted they had anything worth anywhere close to that. 

Knife was leering at her as they headed for the door. Amy shuffled backward to avoid their path but he snatched her arm on his way past pulling her against him. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” She refused to look at him, to acknowledge his threat. He let go and she jerked away. Neither of them moved until the door was shut then Amy ran to lock it. 

“How did you get the money?” Ty asked, knowing she wasn’t attacked until a week later, so they must have come up with the cash. 

In telling the story, Amy fell into a sort of trance reliving the night. Her tears stopped and her voice took on a monotone. Ty’s voice cut through the memory. She sat back on the step, pressing her hands between her knees. “Lou.”

“Your sister?”

Amy nodded. “She’s an investment banker in New York. Ironic, eh?” She snorted. “She was helping me pay for school. I told her I wanted to take a summer session so I could graduate sooner and the deadline to enroll in classes was closing.” Lying to Lou had been difficult. She was paying for her college to ensure Amy had a chance at a better, more stable future. “If I said the money was for our father’s debts, she never would have sent it. And then I don’t know what would have happened.” Maybe the same thing that did. Maybe they’d just kill her father. Regardless, the outcome wouldn’t have been any better.

Ty mulled over the details of Amy’s story. The two men, their threats. “Those men. The one that grabbed you.” Ty’s words were calm, quiet as if speaking to a frightened horse. “Could it have been him who hurt you?”

Amy’s chest tightened. “I told you, I didn’t see his face.” 

Ty hesitated, leaning back against the rail. The calm that came over Amy was slipping away again the closer they got to digging into the details of her assault. The time surrounding it seemed to be a safer place, but the event itself was still understandably raw. He was torn between pushing and letting it go since Amy didn’t quite answer his question about what her father was trying to protect her from. If he had to guess he’d say it was the two men who threatened her. If she didn’t see her attacker’s face, that meant he intentionally kept it covered so she couldn’t identify him. Which meant she had  to have seen it before. A week prior. 

“But you do know, don’t you?” Ty pressed, realization dawning. “You heard his voice.”

[xodditiesx]

Angela has a point.

So, it's been a while since I've read New Moon but I remember being so touched when Angela was trying to be a good friend and figuring out how to help Bella through her depression. One of the things I've always wanted to write is a trauma recovery fic where Angela was right about the cause -- that Bella was abused & raped by Edward. Literally everything else could stay the same. The vampires, the werewolves. Jacob's friendship & character growth. It'd only take some slight reworking to make Edward a self aware abuser. I have a few drafts saved from back in the day but I've never really been happy with the results. Anyone have fic recs where this is explored?

[o-wise-corvid]

Literally dealing with situation and situation in my area of cops raping black people, making them lock up their own urine, murdering them and burying them in the local mass grave pauper’s cemetery. Like my God WHERE ARE YOU FINDING THESE PEOPLE?! Im scared of THEM! Not the mentally ill!

[moonxsuncelestials]

Aftermath of Ptolemy (Part 2)

Hurts…Oh Gods it hurts so much… Amun sniffled quietly as hot tears ran down his cheeks. He looked over his shoulder as Ptolemy slept while Aloysius’s body continued to go through the process of decomposition.

This was his chance, it was now or never.

Carefully, the dragon climbed out of bed and ran for the mirror hidden within his sister’s quarters. But much to Amun’s horror, the mirror was shattered once he reached the inner sanctum of her chambers.

Just his luck! Now that the easier route was practically littered on the floor in small broken pieces, he had to find another way out of the palace without revealing his identity as a god. Tears ran down his face, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute as his mind tried to figure out another way to the God Realm. He hissed and fell to his knees, scraping them upon the shards, when he felt a nasty twinge in his lower back, more of Ptolemy’s semen dripping down his thigh. 

Gods his ass hurts! He needs to take a bath when he gets home. Scrub himself raw-anything to get Ptolemy’s scent off of him. 

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on the task: GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE. 

That was when he recalled a secret passage within the room. Of course, he can use that to get to the gardens!

But where-

Found it.

He bit his lip to keep himself from crying out as he forced himself to rise, piercing his bottom lip before stumbling towards the secret passageway. It took him a few seconds longer, but he managed to push in the stone that activated the door, and given his current state, he fell into the passageway’s corridor. Here, he took a moment to breathe a small sigh of relief though he knew he was not out of the woods yet. Not when Neos Dinoysus Ptolemy XII was going to wake soon and not find him there, which would spell trouble and if caught, it WILL cost him dearly. 

More tears fell and despite the urge to scream, cry, and curse his twin sister for abandoning him to this fate, none of that was going to do him any good at the moment. Amunet betrayed him, just like everyone else who wasn’t from The Underworld or Hell. Using his anger to give him energy and strength for the moment, he used the wall as an anchor, steadying himself when he heard a voice that he missed for the last two years. 

Starlight, come home. Where are you, Starlight? Please, come home. Please, I can’t find you…

And then. 

“Starfire?! Starfire, where are ya, Baby?! Answer me please!”

“Hope…Beelze.” He whispered. He must get to the gardens and from there? Get himself to the Underworld so that he can heal. I will make all of Rome suffer…I will make this BASTARD FOOL regret ever having laid his eyes on me. 

Pushing himself off the wall, he started to make his way wiping away his tears before returning their call in a soft voice. “I’m coming…Please wait for me.” He swore he saw them further in the darkness, encouraging him to keep moving. 

His strength renewed for now, and Amun followed the passageway to the outside garden. From there, he looked around for another hidden door, the one he and some of the servants used to escape the palace. Then he could get to an alleyway and shift–his legs then wobbled and he knew that he wouldn't be able to run for much longer. His chest burned from the extended physical activity that he hadn’t been able to build the endurance for. 

He may have no choice but to take his dragon’s form and fly once he climbs the wall.

“FIND HIM!”

Gasping upon hearing Ptolemy’s bellow, Amun dashed to the tallest tree in the center of the gardens. Climbing it, he hissed when his lower back gave out just as he reached a decent enough high branch for him to rest on. Now left with no other choice, he took to his dragon form. The pain was excruciating but he dared not make a sound as his smaller body elongated with ease, years of practice and it was now second nature for him, becoming serpentine with his pink hair turning into a deep void of black as his skin became blood red, blending into the black mane, his S-shaped horns that had metallic hued ridges appearing while his tail curled around him. And gods did he pray that his dragon’s form would grant him the camouflage needed right now; Nine Hells, he didn’t care if someone mistook him for Ifrit, the giant serpent that was the enemy to all of Egypt at this point. He honestly wished that Ifrit was here though, because then he’d be safe.

He just wanted to be home in Beelzebub’s arms, surrounded by those he now understood to be more family to him than Egypt. Damn his sister for convincing him to come to Earth! Damn Ptolemy-damn all of Egypt and Rome! I never should have let her talk me into this! 

Footsteps stirred him out of his thoughts and caused him to hold his breath as he watched a guard- it was Aquila, the captain of Ptolemy’s goon squad, enter the gardens.

The dragon tried carefully to shrink into the shadows as Aquila searched behind the bushes. Compared to Ptolemy, Aquila was the second worst human in the world. Yun heard the other’s dark thoughts, making him feel sick. The other didn’t care if he, Amun, became damaged goods and then tossed aside, he’d gladly take his chance to turn the ‘prince’ into his lover and mold him from there.

And every guard under Ptolemy–yes he can’t deny it anymore. Every staff member outside of the children, desired him. Oh, they respected his twin sister, some lusted for her, but it was him that many desired to do exactly what Ptolemy had done to him. 

Just as Neith had predicted, and her cruel words to him showed how he would never know nor have love from their people or any human. Every human will fear him, desire him, and then toss him aside for his sister’s light. 

Earth is just like The Palace. 

He had been played like a fool.

Amunet would be cosseted by everyone else, whereas he would only receive their dirty looks, sneers, and cruel laughter; mocking him for having been fooled by a human. That he got what he deserved. 

A new wave of rage overrode the pain in his back as he watched Aquila make his way around the gardens.

Neith had already said that his soul is pitch black, that he is evil incarnate, the mate to Ifrit–so what is one murder now? Especially since that means one less evil human in the world, and Amun knows he has saved any future victims of the bastard.

Aquila was just below him now, looking around, and just as he looked up, Amun pounced in a surprise attack, not unlike a leopard crushing the guard’s larynx and then silenced Aquila with his jaws around the other’s windpipe. He made damn sure that the other suffocated slowly relishing in this kill. The metallic nectar that his brother and sister needed for survival, what his mother got drunk on when she came to destroy humanity after they had insulted his grandfather; now he understands their talks about its taste. They were right, it’s not unlike the wine and ale he enjoys, just a bit thicker. 

But he mustn’t gorge himself, he needed to send a message. 

The crimson nectar replenished his strength but he sensed he didn’t have much time to waste. Aquila would be noticeably missing, thus he knew he needed to be swift. That was when he remembered the tale of Syrina had done centuries long ago. He waited, biding his time when Aquila’s men came looking for him, and when they did?

Ptolemy entered the gardens hearing a commotion, thinking his men found the prince.

Instead, Ptolemy was met with a horrendous sight. The gardens were stained red from the blood of his soldiers, Aquila leaning against the wall and Amun used their blood to leave his message. Just then, from the tree shot out a dragon, slithering through the air and towards the darkened night sky, as thunder rumbled in the distance. 

In his wake, the ‘Evil’ God of Secrets left a bloody massacre, having succeeded in shaking Ptolemy to his core.

“Death to the Pharaoh and his Whore, Rome.” He read aloud and seeing his best men now dead, the doomed Pharaoh wondered if the people who hated him had indeed conjured up the very Serpent they feared.

[thedisdainfullysilentvisitor]

That's the thing about Allison. The writers didn't just ignore the pain she went through in S2, she's still carrying around that pain and rage. The fact that she used that trauma to try and rape her brother and killed someone she thought she had the right to kill, that's what I can't sit with. She's becoming a righteous villain. And maybe in S4, the team isn't acknowledging her betrayal because she didn't want to lose them and wiped their memories with a few words. Remember, she doesn't have to say 'I heard a rumor' anymore. She's Kilgrave, now.

I could be jumping the gun a bit on the latter part, though.

[ljubimaya]

If there's one group of people I hate with all of my heart, it's gotta these random ppl online blaming teen girls for getting pregnant and making fun of them, purposefully ignoring that a) it could've easily been a case of rape, b) we don't know if they even had the choice of abortion and c) that they're bullying literal children. If you wanna make fun of someone, make fun of your 20+ loser ass for being a weirdo 😒

[boopjuice]

There is a used bookstore in Kansas City. I cannot remember its name. But on every shelf of the main floor and basement, something has been scrawled.

A plea to harass a rapist. Taped on articles and poems. Funny little doodles that filled whoever the artist was with joy.

Questions from the hopeless. Answers from the hopeful. Rocket ships and genitals and fanart wherever you turned.

A poem about cutting. A random 'Hi, who are you?' A single corner, just for one, with tallies painted on its floor.

I went there, and didn't think it'd be any different from other used book stores. But now, when I'm asked to think of art, it's the first place I can think of.

i am thinking how much poorer, how much less colorful the world would be if art was only made by "professionals." if all the music, all the stories, all the sketches & paintings & craftwork of the world was created only by the small category of people able to make a decent living from their art. imagine if the only people allowed to create were the experts & the renowned & those aspiring to the top. what a grey world that would be. how much joy would be bleached away! i love you people who create for the sake of creating, i love you artists who do art for tiny audiences, i love you people who make things even just for one person, even just for themselves, even if no one's watching, thank you thank you thank you for decorating the world in which we all exist