#so people can just engage at surface then the rest of us can be like HOLY SHIT DUDE

[mightymizora]

I did see Dune 2 though and DENIS CALL ME I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN

#fucking great #weird as fuck but with like a top layer #so people can just engage at surface then the rest of us can be like HOLY SHIT DUDE

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : when old wounds reopen, he's relieved to have found solace in your presence wc : 1,4k tags : fem!reader, reverse comfort, fluff, little angsty bc of wrio's past

Wriothesley feels it brewing like a storm. It starts in the noon, when a light headache makes his temples throb, when his chest seems to tighten, and his scars ache as if someone is about to rip them open again. 

He knows that sleep tonight won’t come easy. He always does. So instead of tossing and turning beside you, robbing you of your own rest, he prefers to stay the night in his office. 

“Got some paperwork to finish. Will probably stay the night here. Love you.” 

That’s the message he lets deliver to you when the dreadful feelings return like a supposedly defeated enemy. Everything seems fine until it is not. Until his concentration tends to drift off into another dimension overflowing with darkness. His thoughts leave him irritated, and unable to interact with other people without scaring them off. 

At night, Wriothesley eyes the couch in his office. He contemplates whether he should try to at least close his eyes. Maybe this time he’ll fall asleep. 

But he knows that a night without the vivid, gruesome images flashing before his eyes is only wishful thinking.

Instead he plunges himself into the dark space of his past. He watches small patches of blood form along the surface of the punching bag. The pain is almost impalpable, inexistent compared to what’s happening inside him right now. 

His breaths are laboured as he throws jabs into the bag, one after another rubbing off more and more skin from his knuckles. There’s sweat trickling down his face and back after only a few minutes, and he realises that he’s already drained.

His thoughts, his fears, his past. They've all caught up with him in a matter of hours, pulling him left and right, almost tearing him apart.

You have to keep on fighting, Wriothesley. You can’t let them win. 

Clouds obscure his vision until all he can see is red, all he hears are screams, and all he wants is peace. 

But he’s not aware that oftentimes, the one thing that you need the most is already right in front of you. He’s not aware that he could have lessened the pain of his restless nights a long time ago.

The mechanical sounds of sliding metals and working machinery catch his attention, and the doors open. The clouds suddenly disappear, and what remains blinds him.

Like a miner getting out of the deepest parts of a humid cave, he feels the rays of light warm his skin, and he swears it makes him shiver in delight. 

“One of the guards told me I’d find you here.” Your voice bounces off the walls as you approach him slowly. The ring in the middle of the room is empty, though a single glance at Wriothesley is enough to conclude that he comes down here to engage himself in different kinds of fights. 

“Y/n? Love, what are you doing here?” His words sound garbled as he speaks, and he’s reminded to take a few gulps from his water bottle. 

“Could ask you the same.” You eye him carefully while wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. Just like the sea, the temperature inside the Fortress of Meropide seems to drop drastically at night. “Is this your so-called paperwork? Or have you already grown so tired of me that you prefer your workplace over our shared bed?”

Your words obviously carry no malice as you offer him a lopsided smile. Wriothesley can tell that you’re worried though. And tired. 

“You know that’s not true.” He watches you pluck a handkerchief out of your pocket, and sighs when you use it to wipe away some of the sweat beading his hairline. “It’s late, you should have stayed at home.” 

“You should have come home, Wriothesley.” There’s a change in your tone, and just your entire demeanour, when you spot the raw flesh and bruised skin on the back of his hands. But you swallow the sadness that the sight of him brings you. You push aside the disappointment of him not wanting to share his burden with you.

You suppress the anger and resentment that you hold for all the people that have let down Wriothesley’s younger self. The people who have hurt him, the monsters that still haunt him. Wherever they may be right now, you wish them nothing but utter agonising hell. 

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” Your eyes skim over the damaged knuckles before you pull him to the edge of the ring on which he leans against.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He smirks while his gaze follows your form wandering around the room, looking for some clean bandages and a bowl to pour water in. 

“Sure, his Grace has done quite the number on a sand-filled bag.” You roll your eyes as you find your place back between his legs, wetting and wringing a cloth out. “And on himself.”

Watching you tend to his roughed up skin with utter gentleness, Wriothesley’s again reminded how well his big hand fits into your smaller one. Hands that have destroyed so much, harmed so many, held by hands that look so delicate and which are used for mending and caring. The times that he has felt undeserving of them, of you, have been way too many, though he knows that you’d get upset if he told you so. 

It catches him off guard when the sensation of your soft, pillowy lips spreads along his freshly bandaged hands. Like a light breeze in the morning, you sweep away the remaining clouds from the previous stormy night, leaving the newly risen sun in your wake. The only difference is that the sun does not choose its target. You do, and you chose him.

Something about him makes him worthy of your love, of your time, of your touch. He’s not sure what it is, because to be frank he has never deemed himself as someone with extraordinary qualities and talents. He’s just an ordinary man with a less ordinary past. But maybe it’s exactly the former one that has made you choose him. You chose Wriothesley. Not the Duke. Not his Grace. Not a former criminal. Just him and all of his rough edges.

“Let’s go up and sleep, hm?” His hand cups the side of your face, the other settles on your waist as he pulls you in closer until your chest is flush against his. Wriothesley’s cheek nestles over your collarbone, and you feel his warm breath fan over your skin when he heaves a deep sigh. 

“I want to stay like this for a while. Is that okay?” You hum approvingly and watch his body relax against yours as the tension slowly but surely leaves his shoulders. A small groan slips past his lips when your fingers start tracing the muscles along his back. Like a map, you have memorised all his sore spots, all his ticklish spots, and the ones that are the most sensitive.

Wriothesley feels one of your hands slide further up to the nape of his neck. You start twirling his hair around your fingers, combing through the messy and sweaty strands, and lightly scratching his scalp in a way that makes his eyes droop, and body feel heavy.

You hear him mumble incoherently something beneath his breath and you laugh softly.

“What was that?”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it so effortlessly as he gazes up at you with hooded eyes that seem to hold the entire world inside them. The corner of his lip twitches and you wonder if it is because he can feel your accelerated heartbeat.

“Well, you aren’t bad yourself either.” It’s when your chest quakes the slightest bit beneath his head, and when your sweet laugh reaches his ears-

It’s right then that he knows that he’s fine. For now, he’s fine.

And when you’re later on lying on the too short and too uncomfortable leather couch in his office with your body draped over his. When his past flashes in front of his eyes in form of nightmares. And when you hold him through every single one of them, caress his arms and chest in hopes that it will calm him down and ground him.

It’s right then that he realises that he’ll be fine as long as he has you by his side.

#wriothesley #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley drabble #wriothesley x you

[insanelyadd]

#LetSansRest Day!

Hello everyone and welcome to year two of Let Sans Rest Day! Same as last year it's August 9th.

Before we get into some prompts, a little bit of a mission statement. Last year I said this day was for everyone who's a fan of Sans Undertale or anyone who's tired of every image they see of him being him Suffering. This is still true, but I do want to additionally address something I saw a few different people mention.

I have actually received criticism for daring to suggest that Sans not be tormented to the point of insanity, and that this day where I implore people to make realities where Sans doesn't become a creepypasta insane murderer man from the agony he is subjected to, isn't a stand against ableism like Let Papyrus Say Fuck Day is. *stares in bipolar psychosis and PTSD directly into your eyes* Obviously that's a load of shit, and even though Sans is more popular than Papyrus (I say, as a Papyrus Enjoyer) a lot of the content around Sans is very specifically about him suffering. So simply out of spite for these comments (including someone who saw last year's announcement and directly commented "No <3" on the post) I will be continuing this holiday indefinitely, just like LetPapyrusSayFuck Day. Die mad about it.

Just like how I have ADHD and relate to Papyrus and see the way the fandom treats him as the infantilization of neurodivergency like autism and ADHD, I can look at works in this fandom of Sans that demonize traits of mental illness like trauma, hallucinations, delusions, and mania. And I can say these are both bad actually. Not going to call anyone a bad person for engaging in these things, of course, that would be a bit goofy of me, I'm just saying the imagery used for these things is Very Loaded and a lot of people are mishandling them.

So anyways August 9th is the day we let Sans Undertale out of his Torment Nexus so he can:

Have lemonade at the beach or pool

Go stargazing while camping out in the woods with friends and family

Get smothered in cute baby kittens and puppies

Go to therapy and play with one of those magnetic sculptures all therapists seem to own

Take a nap on an inner-tube on a lazy river

Get to see the leaves change color for the first time

Play basketball with Papyrus

Fall asleep in a basket of freshly dried clothes

Go to a public greenhouse to look at all the different flowers on the surface

Perform stand-up for humans who all love his terrible puns

Please tag the post with #LetSansRest, #Sans, and #undertale as well as any other applicable tags for characters, relationships, etc. This day is primarily for classic Sans but it's not like I can stop you from drawing Fell Sans not being subjected to his own, personal, goth-themed Torment Nexus.

This is meant to be a day for everyone who wants Sans Undertale to go to therapy and feel better. People who want to put him in a hamster cage with plenty of things to prank for enrichment. People who want to win him one of those massive stuffed animals at the county fair.

If you want to participate please be mindful of some things:

I will be monitoring the tag to reblog things! I have ptsd and would appreciate if ships involving Papyrus or Frisk (and similar) with Sans are avoided. This is simply for my mental health and I greatly appreciate it. <3

Do Not post angst to the #LetSansRest tag. It is meant to be an angst free tag for him.

Don't worry if you can't participate on the exact day! Just like with #LetPapyrusSayFuck Day you can use the tag and post to it any day! :>

Hope you're able to participate and have fun! <3

#letsansrest #undertale #sans

[miraclewoozi]

BURNIN' UP. - h.js

you really were just trying to enjoy a cool treat by the pool on a hot summer’s day. honest. 

pairing : joshua x fem reader. content : plotless smut. MINORS DNI. (smut tags utc) wc : 3.1k notes : not proofread. intentional lowercase. hoping this gets rid of the insane josh!rot i've had the past few weeks. i'm very sorry. (i'm not that sorry)

nsfw tags : swearing. making out, manhandling, choking, oral sex (m rec), face-fucking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, big cock!josh. he has a bit of a gagging kink. cum swallowing. meanie dom joshua. degradation (use of the word slut), exhibitionism/semi-public sexual acts in that they could have been walked in on at any time (but they weren’t). PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. notes 2.0 : this is for my sensitive gag reflex gang. i see you. i hear you. i am one of you. i would still let joshua hong violate my throat, anyway. 🫶

he’s such a gentleman. 

each time you’ve introduced joshua to one of your friends, they’ve all said the same thing. he’s so nice. he’s so sweet. he’s so caring. so dreamy… a real gentleman — you don’t find many people like him, anymore. and each time, you’ve rolled your eyes. each time, you’ve dry-heaved for dramatic effect, pulled a face, waved them off, told them to shut up. because yeah, whatever, you know he’s a nice guy. you know he always pulls your chair out for you and walks you home when it’s getting dark. you know he’s the first to offer his coat, the first to ask if he can get you a drink. 

seeing them all get hearts in their eyes over him makes you feel kind of squicky, though. because you’ve never, not a day in your life, looked at him the way your friends all seem to. 

at least… not until today.

not until he tugged his hawaiian shirt off his shoulders and dove gracefully into seungkwan’s swimming pool. not until he surfaced, grinning brightly, pushing his hair back off his forehead. not until the swell of his shoulders glistened in the summer sunlight, broad and tanned and decorated with droplets of water from tip to tip. not until he locked eyes with you as he waded through the pool with hansol on his back, engaging in something of a jousting contest against mingyu and chan. (not until they won said joust and joshua threw hansol off him to celebrate their victory, and it looked like he was shrugging off little more than a bag of sugar.)

not until now, as he rests his forearms on the side of the pool and calls your name. as if he needs to do anything to get your attention from where you’re laid out on the sun lounger. as if he hasn’t had it for hours.

“are you getting in?” he asks, raking those thick fingers through his dripping hair again, slicking a few stray strands back. 

now, submerging yourself in the water sounds unbelievably tempting — it’s such a hot day and your skin is slick with sweat even as you relax in the shade. but there’s a lot of splashing going on in there right now and you could really do without a six foot two man-puppy trying to use you as a human shield, so…

“nah, not right now,” you say, shaking your head. 

that brilliant grin is replaced by a playful looking pout. still, he’s all honey-voiced when he asks, “later, then?” 

“sure, yeah. maybe later.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” he says, cupping water in his hands and squeezing them so that it shoots straight at you. a squeak escapes your lips at the chill when it hits your bare legs; joshua kicks away from the wall of the pool chuckling to himself and swims back over to where his friends are still playing around without him, leaving you to stare slack-jawed at his toned back as he retreats. 

half an hour later, you’ve moved to sit at the edge of the pool and you’re kicking your feet slowly through the water. an intense game of marco polo is well and truly underway when seungkwan appears at one shoulder, offering you a popsicle; you take it gratefully, unwrapping the treat and having a taste, sighing blissfully at the frozen cola flavour that melts onto your tongue. 

the host sits down beside you for a little while and you talk comfortably while the fun and games continue. he stays for a while, laughing and joking and catching up with you, before he disappears back into the shade and leaves you to your own devices.

and at some point during all this, joshua takes notice of you. he sees the way your lips close around the ice pop. he sees the way your eyes flutter closed at how sweet and refreshing it tastes. he sees how your cheeks hollow out around it, how your tongue sweeps over the tip, how you hold it so gently between your teeth and giggle at what seungkwan’s saying to you, how you wipe your lips with the back of your hand to clear the stickiness…

so when you glance over to him, after saying goodbye to the host, joshua’s eyes are already on you; his jaw is tense and his eyes are dark as he stares from the opposite side of the pool. chan is slowly edging towards him but he doesn’t seem to care all that much. all it appears he can do is look at you and watch as your throat bobs with each swallow you take. 

so, in the spirit of giving him a good show, you suckle a little more of the popsicle into your mouth with your gazes locked firmly together. and a little more, and a little more. just a few moments later with his lips locked into a tight line and a bead of sweat on his forehead, joshua silently lifts himself out of the water, beckoning you with one tweak of his fingers to tell you to follow.

you lift your feet up out of the water and pat your legs dry with the towel you’ve been sat on, heading inside while trying very hard not to think about the fact that the man you’re about to run into is the sole cause of the ache between your thighs. 

you toss the stick to your popsicle in the trash on your way through and no sooner have you crossed the threshold into the hallway, one of joshua’s devastatingly large hands finds place on the small of your back. with hardly any pressure at all, the contact stops you in your tracks and you find yourself turning to face him. 

“that was quite the… performance,” he says quietly. if you strain, you can still hear the fun being had outside, but the quiet surrounding the two of you in the house makes it so that every syllable that comes from his perfectly shaped lips shoots straight through you.

“i don’t know what you mean.” you shrug, acting as unfazed by his fingertips grazing over your bare skin as you wish you could be. 

joshua gives a soft chuckle by way of a response, his other hand lifting up to your cheek, thumb and forefinger toying with a couple of the baby hairs right in front of your ear. “you don’t?” he asks, and you shake your head at him, playing down the slight stutter in your breathing. he isn’t fooled. “i had no idea our little y/n was so brazen.”

“brazen,” you scoff, pressing one hand against his chest. he’s scorching hot (no doubt a symptom of having been in the sun all afternoon), but you double down anyway, curling your fingertips against his skin. “josh, i wasn’t even doing anything.”

“sure.” he pauses, moving to press his thumb to your bottom lip, feeling the slight chill on your skin from your treat before. “if sitting in full view of everyone and eye-fucking me with that popsicle halfway to your throat counts as ‘not doing anything’, i guess you’re totally innocent.”

this choice of phrasing from your supposed most gentlemanly friend reduces all of the thoughts between your ears to mere static. you can probably count on your fingers the number of times you’ve actually heard him curse, but you’d run out of cogitable numbers before adding up the number of occasions he’s told others to mind their language. shit, it’s so alien on him, but… it’s so hot. in his slightly lower register, quiet and hushed and only for you…

you’ll drench through your bikini bottoms any minute if you aren’t careful.

“totally,” you mumble, the word only half-audible beneath the pad of his thumb. with your eyes as wide and sweet as you can make them, you do what is about the only reasonable thing you can think to do (even though it’s not actually very reasonable, at all). you purse your lips slightly before parting them and sucking the tip of his thumb into your mouth. his jaw tightens, throat tensing as you swipe your tongue across his skin, but his own lips lift up into a twisted sort of smile after a moment anyway . 

“all talk,” he breathes, sliding his thumb out of your mouth and gripping your jaw a little harshly. “all talk, no action.”

“is that right?”

“feel free to prove me wrong.”

joshua turns you both around so that he has you pressed against the wall behind you. with one forward push of his hips, you can feel his cock hard and prodding at your abdomen. a gasp escapes before you can do anything about it, and the metaphorical envelope bursts open. the line is crossed. there’s no turning back – and god, are you pleased about that.

the first move is completely on you. when you push up onto your toes and press your lips to his, it feels as though your whole body catches alight. you don’t waste time with pretty kisses, either – you go straight in, parting your lips, licking against his own. his tongue meets yours, his hands tighten around your waist – it’s messy, sloppy, feverish; you grow lightheaded and dizzy, but whether it’s because you don’t come up for a proper gulp of air for several minutes, or because the man whose arms you’re currently occupying is kissing the life, death, rebirth and repeat out of you… you’re not sure. regardless, you feel like you’re making out with him on the surface of the fucking sun. 

his hand drops from your jaw to your throat and his fingers squeeze in just the right place to trigger another rush of heat between your legs. your pussy tightens around nothing and you get out a quiet whine, lips stilling completely; joshua pulls away from the messy kiss smirking at you, tightening his fist a little more. 

“so you can take my tongue down your throat,” he says directly into your ear, his usually delicate voice hardly more than a low rumble. it sends shiver after shiver down your spine. “but is that all, pretty girl?”

you shake your head as much as his hand will allow and the pressure from his fist starts to push down against your collarbones, weighing you towards the floor. you obediently drop down to your knees, straightening your back until you’re eye level with his cock. all the while, your gaze stays upwards at his face, lashes fluttering when he eventually has to relinquish his hold on your throat. 

“i’ve always thought you had the most beautiful eyes,” he sighs, cupping your chin before sliding his hand around to the back of your neck. his cock twitches against his swimming shorts as you shuffle on your knees to get a little closer to him. “never thought i’d see them like this, though.”

“never knew you wanted to,” you say, lifting your hands up to his sides. they find the waistband of his trunks and start to tug at them playfully but joshua swats them away.

“behind your back,” he tells you. he fucking tells you, and it flashes through your mind briefly to take the bait and snip back at him. you don’t take instructions. you don’t take commands. but there’s a very real fire in the way he’s staring down at you and lord, it’s so hot that you think it’s actually scalding you. 

maybe you can bend your rules, just this once. just for him.

so you clasp your hands behind you and watch as he tugs his cock free from his shorts. when he holds it in his palm, strokes up and down the length a few times right in front of your eyes, you’re stuck trying to figure out if maybe his hands aren’t as big as you thought or if his dick is actually just huge. either way, you can’t stop staring at it; your lips fall apart and he chuckles down at you, swiping his thumb over the tip, smearing the bead of precum collecting there. he just about manages to suppress a shudder.

“open,” he says. 

you don’t hesitate.

your lips part and almost straight away, he presses his tip into your mouth. the weight of him on your tongue makes your pussy flutter and you close your watering mouth around his shaft, massaging your tongue over every inch it can reach. one of joshua’s hands comes to rest on the wall above your head to keep him steady; the other returns to the back of your head, fingers pressing into your hair, tugging at the strands already.

the first thrust of his hips takes you entirely by surprise; he slides through your spit-slickened lips all too easily and he hits the back of your mouth much quicker than you’d expected him to. you feel your throat constricting in a gag, muscles squeezing around his tip, and joshua lets out a deep, animalistic grunt at the feeling that shoots all the way into his gut. 

“fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes falling closed as he pulls at your hair hard enough to sting. “that felt so good.”

you take a couple of breaths and regrasp your hands behind you, preparing yourself for it to happen again. you know you can take him – you’re sure you can. he just caught you off guard. 

but he presses forward for a second time, bumping that super sensitive spot in your mouth, and you gag around him again. and again, and again, and again. your throat takes a beating, but joshua is relentless and he doesn’t stop fucking into your mouth, swearing and moaning with each strangled sound that his cock successfully muffles from you.

“poor little slut,” he groans, teeth gritted in an attempt to keep as quiet as he can manage. he continues to use your mouth like a damn fleshlight and all the while, he keeps talking, curling his fingers into the wall for stabilisation. “can’t handle me, can you? bet you thought you’d be able to take it so easily. fuck, you keep gagging like that and i’ll come right down your throat.”

your eyes are wet and streaming from the corners when you pull off him to catch your breath, chest heaving deeply, forehead slick with sweat.

“so fucking big, josh,” you gasp, swallowing around nothing. your jaw aches already from the exertion but you miss having him in your mouth, even if he’s right. even if maybe it is too much. even if you can’t handle him without choking a little, without your eyes dribbling with tears. you don’t care. you want – no, you need to taste him again, you need to feel the sheer heft of his cock on your tongue.

“look so pretty when you cry over it,” he tells you, bending a little and grabbing your face with one hand, pinching your cheeks so your lips purse. “think you can take a little more?”

you nod even though you really aren’t sure, technically speaking, if you can. but your cheeks sting deliciously from the harsh press of his blunt nails and you’ve managed to suck a little bit of air back into your lungs, so you open your mouth again and joshua lets go of your face, letting you lave your tongue over his cock for a moment first before he rams straight back into your mouth. 

you groan and whine and whimper as he continues his assault on your throat, trying to relax the muscles to make the slide a little easier but it never seems to let up. your clit is throbbing, neglected, sore, but pressing your thighs together only makes it worse, and though you’re sort of morbidly curious as to what joshua would do if you were to start touching yourself right now, you also think that he’s far more likely to help you out if you behave.

“gonna let me come in that beautiful mouth?” he asks, straining for every word, and just the thought of him shooting ropes of his climax straight into your throat has you about ready to collapse. you try to nod, but his eyes are clamped so tightly shut that he quite obviously doesn’t see you. as clearly as you can, you manage a quiet ‘mhm’, and the vibrations of your hum makes him swear. loudly.

“good little slut, – shit.” his hips start to stutter and you hollow out your cheeks, sucking at his cock for all you’re worth. “fuck, keep doing that. m’so close–”

the vein that runs down the underside of his length throbs against your tongue and you feel him release as he stills completely, grabbing the back of your head forcefully, holding you in place. all you can do is swallow around his shaft, let your throat massage all the cum out of him, whine and moan and let him empty himself until he can barely stand.

he taps the back of your head once he’s completely spent and you swallow one last time before gently pulling away from him, not standing to your feet yet but lifting one hand to rest it over his own. he squeezes your fingers, laughing drily and shaking his head before he gets a little bit of his strength back and tugs you up to your feet.

“i really didn’t know you had it in you, y/n,” he says, both his hands resting on your shoulders and gently massaging them. “are you okay? didn’t hurt too much?”

your throat is burning and all your muscles in your jaw feel like they’re going to seize up any minute, but you shake your head anyway. some pains are worth the gain.

“m’okay,” you assure him, pressing your back against the wall and sighing out at how cold the tile feels on your skin. “just… fuck.”

“yeah?” he asks, thumbs working magic on your skin. 

you nod. “never been this turned on in my life,” you groan. “you’re hot when you’re an asshole.”

“feel free to get used to it,” he grins, slipping one hand down and pressing his fingers into your tit instead, the thin material of your swimsuit offering little barrier from the pleasure he’s already sending through you in shockwaves.

“yeah?”

“yeah. especially if you’re gonna act like that in front of everyone.”

you roll your eyes at him, sucking your front teeth but you can't quite stop the devilish grin that settles onto your face as he slips beneath the fabric of your top. “i don’t know what you mean,” you tease, echoing your own words from before. “i wasn’t even doing anything, josh.”

thank u sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always so greatly appreciated.<3

#joshua hong smut #joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #joshua x reader #joshua hong x reader #hong jisoo x reader #kpop smut #j writes. #*

[meraki-sunset]

Guess what

I got a fever the other day and while bored in bed I made another AU (this is a short thing i won’t make an mspfa about it)

An AU where the four CSAU seadweelers are mermaids

And the premise it’s basically, Feferi and Fefeta are siblings (they love eachother) and so are Eridan and Erisol. (they get along fine)  Mermaids are suposed to be something from violet to fuccia in color (fefeta’s color is normal here). But Erisol is basically the mutant here and his bright green color makes him too easy to spot. which makes the other mermaids not like him, because he can lead predadors and hunters to the rest of the mermaid population under the sea. (his friends have grown used to surround him when in danger to make him stand out less since they were kids)

the four of them grew up together. Feferi and Fefeta held the tittle of heiress still and Erisol and Eridan were sort of like princes too. As kids they tried to make Erisol feel like a normal merkid

Eventually Eridan and Feferi got into an arranged marriage by their ancestors, they never considered Erisol an option due tu his blood (fefeta is considered to have a normal blood, while her sister manifested royal blood, she is still a heiress, she is just a little less special in the eyes of royals)

Erisol grows older and feels more and more like an outcast. he grows apart from his brother and friends

Eventually Erisol and Eridan fight. They both have feelings for feferi. Erisol calls out how eridan has become a big jerk. Eridan tells him to fuck off and probably mentions his mutant condition as the reason he’s not the one engaged to feferi

Erisol disregarding his safety swims to the surface to be alone for a while, where no one will bother him

He happens to be spoted a by hunters, they roam around looking for mermaids who get too close to the surface and sell their tails in the black market

Mermaid tails are most likely used for medicine, beauty products and also rich people cook them as a rare dish.

Erisol being a mutant means the hunters hit the jackpot. Mindfang could sell him for a shit ton of money

They put him in a big barrel cage belowdecks and head to the next port. They assign one of the lower workers on the ship to feed him twice a day.  He happens to be Arquius, who’s been on the ship for a while

They don’t get along at first

Arquius limits himself to just giving him food, but can’t help talking to him when doing it. Erisol just whatches him in silent at first

As days go by they Erisol starts letting his anger out on him and Arquius just endures it, yelling back

over time they began arguing more often and over longer periods of time

The arguing tuned into conversations

And the conversations turned into pleasant chatting they would try to make last as long as they could.

Turns out Arquius is also mutant in the troll hemospectrum. He’s in the ship working his ass of in exchange for not being turned over to the authorities for culling. Traveling form place to place keeps him sorta safe, but they hold his life over his head every time they need to

They day before they were meant to reach the port, Arquius had already made up his mind. He might be stuck in the ship but he could still free his friend

But he wasn’t smart enough and got caught pretty easily. He got stabed and left to bleed by the Capitan Mindfang.

Suddenly the ship begins to shake and get engulfed by a giant moster. It’s Feferi’s lusus. Erisol’s friends are here to rescue him after several days of looking for the ship

The ship breaks and sink. The barrel is broken and Erisol is free

His brother and friend come get him but he doesn’t want to leave his dying new  friend

And Erisol as a last reasurce uses the majyykal power all mermaids have.

The four of them get out of the now sunken ship

Arquius is no longer a land walker, he’s a merman now. a mutant merman tecnically.

He joins the others and lives a happier life as a merman, becomes fefeta’s moirail, Erisol’s partner. Eridan and Feferi most likely don’t get married in the end.

Arquius no is no longer stuck in a ship and Erisol isn’t the only mutant. they’re just happier and chill in the ocean forever, 

The end

This is like, the typical super basic mermaid AU and a poor  excuse to draw Arqisol but they’re my guilty confort ship so yeah

I’m still working on the epilogue for those wondering, don’t worry :P i just took a break to complete commissions and, you know, get a fever and hallucinate a new AU, the usual

I hope you like this thingy i made. i love yah *muack*

🌸👍☀️

#csau extra #homestuck #homestuck au #meraki #erisol #erisolsprite #arquius #arquiusprite #mermaid au

[angelthemanspanker]

my most tinfoil hat AtS opinion is that legit straight up canon spangel was like RIGHT beneath the surface of season 5, like the show was ready to pivot in the direction of them being at least friends with benefits at a moment's notice despite fate and the censors' best efforts

Season 1 had shit like Angel's first power walk shot set against a pride flag and him awkwardly telling guys he wasn't hitting on them, going for a kinda Adam West Batman kinda gay thing where people assume that about him bc it's the early 2000s and his clothes fit VS Season 5 in the premiere alone giving us Angel correcting a guy who calls him a "little fairy" with "I'm not little" and the legendary, blog-inspiring "I have no problem spanking men" (one of which he says to a guy he's about to kill and one to a guy he knocked out, almost like Angel lets gayer behaviour slip if he's around people who can't bring it up later hm) followed by the only man we KNOW Angel has fucked literally appearing from thin air in his office

then you get Life of the Party where Angel's Whacky Magic Antics are set off by Lorne telling Angel and the person he's having sexually tense arguments with to get a room, causing him to have ill-advised hate sex he ordinarily would not have with someone he is reluctantly attracted to. and I believe in my BONES that at SOME POINT in the scripting process that that person was gonna be Spike. Even setting aside my admittedly subjective opinion that Angel and Eve had even less sexual chemistry than Xander and Willow, it just... scans. Angel and Spike have their "I need to get our faces within an inch of each other or I'll die" arguments in front of EVERYBODY in literally every episode of the season, so I feel like if Lorne was gonna say it about ANYONE it'd be about them. I will never budge from my belief that Spike still being a ghost at this point and early 2000s tv politics caused them to abandon the Angel And Spike Magically Fuck At The Party plot early in the writing process for the episode and slot Eve in there instead while Spike gets the easy-to-write-into-existing-scenes positivity thing.

and THEN. AND THEN. it becomes a plot point that the show Angel's friends are suddenly really on board with him getting back out there dating-wise (the unperson-ing of Cordelia helps here. whee.), with us all suddenly being in agreement that there is little to no danger of his curse being triggered by sex (even though both times he's lost the soul since his curse, real or imagined sex played a significant role in the moment of happiness). Like, Nina is one of the more one-dimensional characters in the Buffyverse and her midness seems to be for the purpose of setting the audience at ease that Angel's soul ain't going anywhere from hooking up with her.

WESLEY is all for it! Wesley "Most Paranoid and Prepared For The Return of Angelus" Wyndam-Pryce is saying look man we're all rooting for you go have a relationship with a girl whose only flaw that I can come up with is that she's a werewolf. Like sir??? How can you be sure the Beautiful Engaging Young Woman Who Actually Wants You won't accidentally make Angel happy with her extremely inoffensive flavour of Nice?

Whereas if, say, there was a beautiful, engaging blonde who actually wants Angel and Angel wants but comes with the caveat that THIS beautiful blonde not only drives Angel up the fucking wall but recently had magical sex with Angel at the office party in front of the whole main cast, proving that as much as Angel gets off on screwing Spike that he is Not happy about it? I can see Wes giving the all clear on that one ngl

bonus points that Angel and Nina got the Official Couple upgrade in Smile Time which comes right before the Illyria tragedy forces Angel and Spike into the... maybe not friendly but LESS hostile dynamic they keep for the rest of the show, so the season structure of their relationship still follows a lot of the same beats. honestly besides getting a lot more moments of David Boreanaz and James Marsters trying to out-six-pack each other in their post-coital shirtless scenes the only thing you'd need to do is change the world-shattering "Me and Angel have never been intimate. Well except that one..." to something along the lines of "Me and Angel have never been intimate, I just shag the bastard"

#benny russell voice its REAL. #angel #spike #angel the series #spangel

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: Napping [Part One] [Part Two]

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve says, the words falling out of his mouth, tumbling off the thickness of his tongue. Jaw slack, bottom lip hanging open, and there’s a slight furrow to his brow. Looking at him through droopy eyes, long lashes — fluttering as he blinks up at Tommy.

His gut twists, a curl of nausea wrapping around his middle. How far have they fallen, that Steve didn’t expect Tommy to actually listen to his message. To come visit when he said he was in the hospital. Did he really think Tommy was that much of an asshole? To the people at Hawkins sure, but never Steve. Never Carol. Never the people that actually mattered to him. The rest of Hawkins could get fucked.

People hung out with Steve at school — the guys from the swim team, cheerleaders, all those types — but he didn’t really seem to be friends with them. Just friendly. Surface level, school shit. Have you started that essay, have you heard Nicole’s throwing a party, what’s for lunch? Never anything real. Not like anything he had with Tommy. Carol as well, when she joined the scene.

Except Wheeler. Tommy absently wonders why she isn’t here. Why Steve didn’t ring her. She’s his girlfriend, she should be here with a card and flowers. Sit at his bedside. Except she isn’t here. Tommy is.

“Of course I did.” Tommy says, shrugging his shoulders. Sliding his hands into his pockets, trying so hard to look calm. Normal. This doesn’t have to mean anything, if Steve doesn’t want it to. He’s just his ex best friend, visiting him in hospital to be nice. It’s fine. Except it’s not fine. Tommy’s heart is thundering in his chest so hard it’s a miracle Steve can’t hear it from all the way on the other side of the room.

This feels like the start of something. Tommy hopes it is. Reconnection. Getting his best friend back.

Steve’s gaze softens, his eyes practically melting, settling into something gooey and warm. Like fucking caramel, or honey or some shit. A part of Tommy didn’t think Steve would ever look at him like that again. Not like the pained glances and glares he got in the halls of Hawkins High. On the basketball court.

There was no mask here. Steve doesn’t have the energy for it, to put the mask back on, the façade that everything’s normal. Everything’s fine and it’s better this way.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth forming a perfect circle. He starts picking at his blanket, tugging at the seam, trying not to wobble as he sits up. Blinking, Steve looks down at his hands and then back at Tommy.  It’s almost bashful. Shy. Steve never used to be shy with him. They could tell each other everything. They knew all about each others first kisses, first times. The foods they like, the ones they hate. What they want from like and the fears that simmer under the surface. Tommy knows all about Mr Harrington’s cheating, and the way it fucked Steve up. And in return Steve knows all about how Tommy’s parents pretend he doesn’t exist and the anger that builds. There was no pressure, no worry, about saying anything to the other. But maybe they’re starting from scratch. And maybe that’s okay. “Thank you.”

“Can I sit?” Tommy asks, pointing at the ugly chair with a thumb. He raises an eyebrow, and tries to will his pulse to stop racing. It’s not just about the chair. It’s about Tommy staying, being allowed in Steve’s presence again. What if he says no? What if he doesn’t actually want to see Tommy again? What if the phone call was Steve just getting it all off his chest?

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve replies, still looking and sounding a little shocked. At the fact that Tommy showed up, or the fact Steve said yes, he’s not sure. He nods, heading over to the ugly chair, and tilts it more towards the bed as he sits down. So he can look at Steve. Fucking engage with him or some shit. Tommy’s here now, and he really doesn’t want to break it. Doesn’t know if he could handle it, honestly. Losing Steve hurt. More than a breakup with Carol ever could, he thinks.

“So what are you in for, anyway?” Tommy asks. To break the ice sure, but also because he’s genuinely curious. Steve didn’t say, just that his brain felt like mud and the nurses didn’t want him wandering. And with the way he’s looking, Tommy doesn’t blame them, Jesus Christ.

“This isn’t prison,” Steve jokes, wincing as he laughs. The motion of it pulling at his wounds, his bruises. His fucking battered body. Sighing, sounding a little strained, Steve relaxes back into his pillows. Turns his head so he’s still looking at Tommy.

“You sure?” He jokes, mouth curling up at the corner. Half a smile, half a sneer, but he tries to make it look genuine. Nicer. Tommy’s fucking trying, alright?

Steve wheezes as he laughs, more an exhale of air than anything. Calming, soothing his lungs, his aching body, Steve takes a slow, deep breath. Blinks as he looks at Tommy. Eyes flicking over his face, roaming over his features.

“Concussion. Bad one. Really bad one.” He says eventually. After a pause. Carefully choosing his words. “Lots of cuts and shit.”

“Fuck, dude,” Tommy starts, almost recoiling. Almost says are you alright on instinct. He catches himself, the words dying on his tongue. Like fucking no, obviously. He looks like he got hit by a truck. Probably feels like it too. It hurts to look at. Way worse than when Steve fought Jon in that alley. Steve was winning that fight too. Tommy fucking stands by that. Jon only had him at the end because the cops showed up and Steve stopped fighting back. And you know who got slapped in cuffs because of it? Fucking Jonathan. Tommy takes a deep breath, takes his hands out of his pockets and tries to look calm. He’s fine. Steve’s hurt and someone hurt him and Tommy’s fine. Flexes out the muscles in his palms, his fingers, and grips the arms of the chair.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, a soft, sleepy smile on his face. “Can’t really be alone right now. But it’s not so bad. I’ve mostly been napping and getting woken up by nurses every hour.”

You’ve got me now, Tommy wants to say. But that doesn’t come out of his mouth. He takes a shuddering breath, gestures to the door he just came through with a trembling hand. “I can go, if you need to nap?”

“No.” Steve says quickly, automatically, hand reaching out towards Tommy. Bites his lip, gaze dipping down to his hand, over to Tommy, head bobbing heavily with the weight of it. He looks shy again. There’s a worry in his eyes, wrinkling at the corners. “Don’t go. Please?”

And oh fuck that hurts. He looks a lot like the scared kid who used to come over to Tommy’s house because his parents left for the weekend and he didn’t want to be alone. Wanting the company but also being ashamed to ask for it. His father’s influence, Tommy knows.

“Okay,” he says, trying not to sound so relieved himself. “I’ll stay.”

[Part Four] [Part Five]

#stranger things #steve harrington #tommy hagan #stommy #stwgdailyprompt #My Writing #lmao writing this fic one prompt at a time

[sepublic]

            It’s interesting that S1 is the most conventional in terms of kids’ show formats and lessons, especially given the confirmation that it suffered the most executive meddling (not counting Seasons 2 and 3 dealing with the shortening). S1 is primarily where Luz, as well as King, learn the standard, typical Aesops of ‘Be nice and think of others, don’t be selfish’, that sort of thing. It’s where a humbled Luz is most reminded that she’s not the Main Character, and must be mindful of the people around her… A necessary lesson, keep in mind.

         However, there’s still an undercurrent of her asking and sometimes even demanding things, things she wants and needs and deserves, and Luz gets it! Eda enrolls Luz at Hexside because Luz wants to! Bump lets Luz do multi-track learning after she and the others insist! And that comes to fruition in the rest of the show, as the ideal Luz should accept for herself… Even as the events and trauma of S1 leave Luz with the takeaway that, no, she IS a bad person who is selfish and has hurt others in her narrow-minded pursuits, and must actively atone and cease being a burden.

         I think it’s neat; The first season, the ‘safest’ one, as influenced by Disney, is the one that espouses to Luz to ‘Be a good kid’. But the rest of the show afterwards, more true to Dana’s vision, is Luz encountering the downsides of devoting herself too deeply to that idea, with little to no forgiveness for herself; We see and know the merits of that typical lesson, but it also gets a bit deconstructed as TOH argues it’s just as important, if not moreso, for Luz to take care of herself too, give herself some credit, etc.

         This ‘second phase’ of the show is when Luz really begins to face off with Belos, who is an actual, literal puritan motivated by their ideology. And as I’ve discussed in the past, puritan ideology presumes humanity as existing in a natural state of guilt (which coincides with the Guilty until proven Innocent nature of the witch trials), due to the first sin. As a result, just about anything engaging in pleasure or fun is seen as hedonistic and ‘sinful’, and puritans are expected to constantly atone for their existence by devoting themselves to a higher cause, God and the collective.

         It tracks that the puritan mindset has had its legacy in real life, with a lot of conventional kids’ media reminding their audience not to be a brat; Kids are expected to obey rules, trust in the wisdom of their elders, etc. Stories like Pinocchio come to mind, with Guillermo Del Toro even criticizing it for seeking to ‘tame the child’s spirit’, hence his own version of the tale deconstructing the original by being a defiance to conformity.

         So it’s rather meta that TOH starts off with that surface-level quest to be a responsible child for Luz, in its first season (the executive one, the introductory ‘testing the waters’ season where each episode is about an Aesop). But there’s that undercurrent of Luz being rewarded for thinking about herself; So when the show really begins to dig deeper in Season 2 -being more apparent with its more mature storylines and tone, and less bound by corporate mandates to stick to the regular episodic formula- TOH’s true nature begins to reveal itself.

         Dana did explain that S2 was truer to her vision, and especially in light of the shortening, she outright admitted that the crew went for a more “Screw it, let’s just do what we want” route with TOH, and you can really tell. Dare I say, a more disobedient approach, as a contrast to S1 being more corporate, and on the surface about being the Responsible Child. I find it neat how the writers made Disney’s mandates work (such as Hexside for example), giving us the surface of that conventional story about a child learning to behave herself, only to say But there’s much more to her actualization than that.

         The narrative begins peeling back the layers of that supposed story by showing the consequences of the kid protagonist’s adventure, not just in the trauma, but by displaying how its morally righteous takeaways can lead to toxicity and outright evil, such as with someone like Philip Wittebane. TOH is being nuanced by balancing the selfless and selfish ends of the spectrum, but ultimately it’s finishing on the note of Luz learning to fight for herself, at least as much as she does for others.

         After all, there’s definitely a real-life social trend leaning towards being easier and less punishing on kids; Physical punishment is seen as physical abuse, and people are becoming more aware of just how difficult it really is to be a minor, actually. A lot of conservative groups complain that society has become ‘softer’, but the idea of disobedience and rebellion has become more and more attractive as corporate power constricts and demands you work full-time, emphasizing productivity.

        ‘Empowerment’ is a term that’s more discussed, so when we use that word for minorities, it’s inevitable that people will extend it to adolescents as well, hence the meme of Okay Boomer, as a response to Millennials supposedly ruining everything. Dana herself also mentioned she grew up in a catholic school and was even placed into a headlock by a nun as a child once, which given her story’s villain is a puritan…

         I think TOH argues that Yes, some of the ideas behind being a responsible child do have a bit of a place. BUT, it follows this up with the notion that this default sentiment for kids can and has been damaging, just as S2 follows up on S1’s more corporate, lesson-of-the-day format with a freer story that has Luz struggle with her unfair guilt. The show’s very structure and organization on a meta level ends up reflecting how it offers a typical lesson, but then deconstructs it to argue the opposite is good; Just as Luz enters expecting your regular pretty isekai, but finds something grotesque and demonic, only to accept and embrace that too.

        Luz forgiving her desires pairs with TOH saying it’s okay to be selfish and not expect yourself to be a Hero who saves the world, which is a presumption both egotistical but also demanding. This matches with S2 introducing more prevalently the idea that, hey, maybe kids shouldn’t be expected to save the day either, given the trauma it instills, and the expectation to essentially be a responsible, productive child who is successful in life. That defies the puritan mindset to atone, work hard, and devote yourself to something greater, such as the collective and/or God, which is something American society is continuing to unlearn; And The Owl House reflects these trends as the product of various social movements, such as queer rights.

#the owl house #luz noceda #meta #cw christianity #analysis

[sw33tsnow]

Marijuana

Mafia!Price x Bartender!GN!Reader (18+)

Summary: With the same age and the dexterity of a bartender, it's hard to find anyone to replace your compatibility with John.

Warning: NOT FOR MINORS, unedited, slow-burn, tension, mentions of violence, mentions of humiliation (towards reader, obv not from John), mentions of blood, non intrusion sex, marking, nipples play, ice kink, dry-humping, etc. Word count: 2k3

NOTE(s):

I'M TERRIBLY APOLOGIZE FOR ANY GRAMMAR ERRS.

Forgive me if this one is quite rush, iluvu.

Another busy night had come to an end, and you were standing behind the bar with your tie loosened, your body swaying slightly to the melodic jazz music still playing from the player. The dim lighting of the pub, combined with its subterranean setting, adds to the gloominess of the surroundings. You wiped the glass then placed it on the shelf behind and took a look around, there were still a few waiters cleaning, so you sighed and threw your black towel over your shoulder. Rubbing your eyes, you believed the night would finish like this after checking the locks and leaving last after those employees, but the familiar ding of the elevator indicated that the road to your bed was much further out of sight, apparently. 

John would come in exhausted, just as he did every night after the pub closed, and have a drink to help ease himself. Tonight was no exception, with his somewhat disheveled brown hair and a bulky coat with the layer of snow lingering on the collar revealed that he had just returned from a business visit. Throwing the pistol on the expensive oak surface and sitting down on the leather-covered barstool, John stroked his hair a few times and grinned up at you, a smile that you found charming because of the crow's feet on the corners of his eyes were visibly displayed.

"Evenin', love" The man began, sounding drained with a rasp in his voice.

"Tired day, I guess?" You asked, your arms resting on the lower counter in front of you compared to his as you leaned ever so little towards him.

"Oh no, pistol 's still cold, bet Marley will be very pleased seeing no stubborn impurities on my shirt t'day" John's butler, Marley, she'd been working in his mansion for over ten years so far. There was a time when you were lucky enough to hear the brunet grumble about how he was scolded by that butler for something related to laundry.

You pursed your lips but weren't able to muffle your small laugh, and that made John chuckled too. Given your similar ages, it is likely that you two get along well because you effortlessly understand one another's thoughts.

"What about you?" The man's brows raised.

Without rushing to respond, you strolled over to retrieve John's preferred bottle of Bourbon and poured it into a glass for him. Pushing the glass forward so that John could take it promptly, you set the wine down next to the brunet, and started engaging in conversation. 

That way, the two of you can sit and chat for hours on end without worrying that the other will get weary of listening to what people might consider idle banter. As the dong struck precisely one-thirty in the morning, the personnel had dwindled, well, time had gone by quickly. To be honest, you had forgotten your fatigue as soon as you saw John enter the pub, and when he spoke with you for an hour, you assumed he felt the same way. Even while it appears that your relationship is obviously unsuitable for your positions. 

John's bars used to consistently import alcohol from your supplier. Naturally, there is no need to discuss the quality of your booze, and in exchange, the brunet must handle shipment and a few necessary circulation documents on your behalf. You had one rule: you wouldn't engage in any major illegal activities but your appearance at John's pub was the complete opposite of what you claimed, which startled a lot of your mutual friends. The truth is that it's a covert promise between you and the man since John had to take charge and make all the arrangements in order to secure your safety after many inquiries strayed into your business under the permission of the authority. Initially, you were rather irritated considering the two tall men who were sent to inform you were too stern while the other had an excessively humorous demeanor. However, you complied with their instructions with perfect obedience, knowing it was John who gave them orders.

Being friends for long before, you two grew even closer and everyone in this place took it for granted that the man went to the pub every night to keep you company was a regular occurrence. Additionally, even though John never smokes marijuana, the lingering odour of cigars that permeates your nose whenever John shows up and the scent of your perfume on the brunet's jacket were enough to turn you two into addicts to each other.

“And don't forget ‘bout my friends stopping by tomorrow” Quickly downing the remaining wine, the brunet stood up and reminded you about the appointment the following day. 

You gave a modest smile, nodded, and bided your time until the towering back vanished from your sight. An ugly grimace appeared on your visage, John only informed you about these visits when the guests brought companions, in which case you believed it would either be prostitutes who were getting massive lavished or the sons who were so full of themselves. The success of those negotiations also hinges on how you handle these problematic clients. Anyway, you remind yourself, this wasn't something you had to deal with once or twice, only prayed that things wouldn't get out of hand.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Your head was already pounding with the volume of conversations being turned into screams surrounding you, let alone the sound of digital music seemed to be teasing every nerve of yours. And how wonderful your uniform consisted of a white shirt, black trousers and a gile with a matching tie didn't do anything to assist you feel more comfy in this circumstance.

It turns out that you've landed in the unlucky box because first, the guests you had to greet were a bunch of punks who were already drunk before entering your pub and second, they refused to sit at any of the tables. They chose to line up in front of you with the reason that they want to be served wholeheartedly because the bartender at the previous shop they just visited was very unqualified. You swore that what ever the fuck in front of you was no different from a pornography scene, just lacking a cine-camera and a director. They sang, hugged, kissed and attended to do more repulsive acts than you could possibly list.

"Uhm, sir...you're not allowed to use that here"

The familiar smooth voice prompted you to open your eyes and turn around. A waitress held the tray tightly to her chest, standing behind one punk who was preparing for a puff of his marijuana and poked his shoulder to remind him. However, she was clueless that she had set off a fire anthill.

"Who the fuck are ya to give me orders?" He spoke with an unsober voice, obviously inebriated, and kicked the girl's leg. His accent scratched the back of your brain disgustingly, making you want to punched into his fucking big nose right at the moment.

You hurried over and motioned for the girl to enter the staff changing area, knowing full well that nothing would stop after that warning. Also unintentionally drew the prickly brat's attention to you.

"And who are you to dare to poke your nose into my business?"

Calmly smiled and explained to this dickhead that according to the boss's regulations, all types of stimulants are not allowed because this was an open pub, not underground like others which John owned. But this punk didn't even let you finish your sentences. He yanked you down by your tie and blew the weed's smoke in your face, laughing arrogantly and forcing you not to look away. A hit stench stuck straight to your lungs, hogged your vision and felt like the breath you took demands to be a lot deeper for it to feel enough.

Unable to bear it anymore, you had to turn away only to be stunned by the liquid that had been reduced to room temperature. Dripping from your damp hair, drops of the mesmerizing crimson sparkle of Cabernet Sauvignon spread across your white uniform shirt, revealing your skin beneath the vibrant neon colour lights. 

Inhale deeply. After all, you should be thankful for this grace since your headache is completely gone. Maybe until the conclusion of the evening, your focus wouldn't be compromised. As long as John's negotiation proceeded without a hitch, just went along with this.

Clash.

Everyone's attention was drawn to your bar by the sound of the crystal glass shattering and the jerk's abrupt scream. Simon stood there, his thick gloved hand now drenched, staring at the dickhead who was laying on the ground clutching his bleeding head and still kept cursing.

"You should've watched where you are, kid" An unmistakably familiar voice which you didn't need a glance to confirm.

With the cigar between his lips, he removed his outer coat, passing it to Gaz, rolling up his sleeves and squatting down.

"Did your father ever tell you to consider your every action?"

John took grip of the jerk's hair and quickly hauled him back up after he had made himself clear. The brunet punched, then slammed his face into the floor. He dragged him, slowly, with each step to the front of your counter and threw him towards it. The torture, no, punishment was merciless. Not even the father willing to intervene, simply standing outside and shook his head in frustration.

As for you, you just stood there, stoically thanking Soap with the towel he offered you and blotting the alcohol from your wet hair as you watched John take out his rage on the newfound meat bag.

It was a good four minutes until the brunet was satisfied. His subordinates swiftly handed him a fresh rag to clean up the blood on his knuckles while he approached the father to end the terms of their discussion. Only to blame his dumbass of a son. 

"Leave us" Was all John said.

Everyone left, Soap went in behind to tell the girl to get off work early.

"You...stay" Pointing at you, he demanded.

When it's just you and John, the brunet gave you his unwavering attention. And you knew without a doubt that you were going to be chastised, so all you did was bow your head and keep wiping your hair without looking up at the man who sat across the bar table from you.

This uncomfortable silence must have offended John, so he grunted, just enough for you to quit and fixed your gazes on him.

"You know it's not necessary, John...." You maintained your calmness.

John groaned and leaned in closer, "There's a limit to everything, and that muppet crossed the line, that's what he deserved."

"And yet behaving so childish,what will they bat around? You, the one and only John Price, beats the hell out of his party's son for a bartender?" You scowled, not willing to back down.

How hilarious it was for John to act like a teenager boy, knowing that it was too ridiculous for him to stand up for you in that situation. Even if he wasn't concerned about his reputation, you were. 

John moved away from the wooden table, tossed the partially burned cigar into a random wine glass, circled the bar and approached you. He placed his hand on your neck, drawing you in but not using too much strength.

Ultimately, your lips crashed together, it's so sudden that you froze on your ground, letting him take control over everything including your body.

"A bartender, you say. 'll fuckin' show everyone what's this bartender meant to me, eh?" He snarled in your ear.

The brunet bent you down, hands roaming all over your entire body while his lips trailed hundreds of hot, wet kisses from your mouth, cheek, down to your jaw, shoulders, and chest. He’s so strong, pinning you down making your back laid flat on the counter, unable to escape from this unbreakable bear trap. 

John was not rushed about this. He took his time, nibbled on every inch of your skin, leaving red and purple bruises from where his mouth swiped through. Like a predator marking his prey. And you were too stunned, couldn’t form a normal sentence to stop him and limps were so numbed that couldn’t hold him back. But you both knew, you’re not against this, you craved for him as much as he craved for you. So he didn’t slow down, only loosened his grip so that you’d be able to touch him for his, no, you pleasure, too. 

“Fuck, John, wait….ah, s-slow down” You let out a breathy moan, nails digged into his back.

But of course he didn’t comply. Only tucked your nipple in and started lapping and twirling with his tongue, the other one was being taken care of by his thick fingers. Setting his leg between yours, rubbing, the brunet put more pressure to his knee and pressed it to the area between your legs. He groaned, sounded not so different from a starved animal.  

And it’s almost so painful that you had to reach your hand to John's crotch and tried to ease him. Your movement was quite messy or clumsy somehow but you both were just way too horny to care. You groped him, squeezing it gently and moving your palm up and down his shaft.

"Bloody fuckin'...." John grunted out in frustration, eyes shut in denial.

Couldn’t hold it anymore, the man flipped you around, pulling your lower body stick to his. The swell of your ass to his hard-as-rock midsection and he kept you there, didn’t start moving yet. Reaching for the ice box on his right, John picked two small cubes out and held them to your aching nipples.

“Fuck, John, please no….I can’t” You almost cried out, feeling like breaking your neck just to look back at him.

And this man only responded you with a fucking mischievous smirk on his face.

Took a good handle on your hips, he began to move, rubbing his solid brother against your ass, between your thighs, filthy but tempting. The only audible noises were his grunts and you half crying half pleading tone. And stopped when you both released and panting heavily. 

Taglist: @shadowlali , @ghostlythots , @brickwall035

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[puckspoetry]

DPS: Life and Beauty

The dps slander that I hear from some people makes me so sad like you can’t look at it from a surface level perspective. It’s so much more than people think and it makes me sad that they don’t understand the true meaning of the film.

Dead Poets Society is a film about beauty and the nature of life seen through each of the characters. I think this is so obviously seen through Neil and Charlie as they both experience the roller coaster that is being alive.

Neil starts the film re-engaging with his friends which are quickly established as a positive force in his life. His celebrations are quickly cut short as his father enters the room. Neil’s father is a symbol of oppression and social standard whereas Neil symbolises freedom and passion. Neil’s character takes us through a variety of emotions, most notably joy and sadness to both extremes. Neil is a symbol for life and how it can take dramatic turns unexpectedly. This can be seen most obviously with his father. Neil goes through periods of happiness which is then followed by an entry from his father which introduces negative emotions and thoughts. I think the best example of this (other than Neil’s suicide) is the night before the play. Neil’s father has finally found out about Neil’s involvement in the play at Henley Hall and confronts his son, forcing him to quit the play. Prior to this, Neil had been at the highest point in his happiness only for it to be stripped back down and leave him feeling empty. However, the next day we see Neil reach his real peak as he performs in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and it seems as if nothing can bring him down. But, as life goes, it comes crashing down which ultimately ends in Neil taking his own life.

Charlie is also really interesting to look into as his story isn’t as prevalent as say Neil or Todd. His story goes through the same up and down formation as Neil’s does but it is shown very differently. Charlie is quickly established as an outspoken person who isn’t one to shy away from controversy or risk. The first notable rise in Charlie is in the Phone Call From God scene in which he holds up a phone during an assembly and says that God is calling for a coed future at Welton. This is then quickly followed by his first dip as he is disciplined and warned with expulsion. As Mr. Perry is to Neil, Mr. Nolan acts as a negative figure in Charlie’s story as he is the one who continues to ground him. Charlie’s happiness continues to grow for the rest of the film until Neil’s death where his positivity is ripped from underneath him without an explanation.

Neil and Charlie are both symbols as they literally experience the roller coaster of life that is references throughout the film. Dead Poets Society isn’t solely a movie about poetry and its beauty, but it’s about the delicacy of life.

When Mr. Keating introduces the soon-to-be-Poets to the Dead Poets Society, Knox asks “so it was just a group of guys sitting around reading poetry” and I think this reflects an outside view of the film. The first few times I watched it, I don’t think I could truly grasp how deep and intellectual it is. Knox’s interpretation of the Dead Poets Society is a literal representation of how people who don’t understand the film think of it. Whereas Keating’s response (“we weren’t just guys, we weren’t a greek organisation, we were romantics. We didn’t just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey”) represents the people who can understand the intricacies of the film.

It just makes me so sad when it’s dismissed as a movie about guys reading poetry when it’s so much more than that.

~

If you can’t tell it’s my favourite film. I will not tolerate the dismissal of dps as “guys who read poetry”.

#dead poets fandom #anderperry #dead poets society #dps #neil perry #todd anderson #writeblr #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #charlie dalton #Mr Perry #Mr Keating #Steven Meeks #Knox over street #Gerard Pitts #Walt Whitman #writerscommunity #writblr #writing #writer things #puckspoetry

[masezace]

little off topic for my blog, but i started watching a new show since a friend mentioned it was good and i'd heard positive things about it, so i just wanted to talk about it a little bit (probably never again after this since this isn't a fandom blog, but it's the only one i have rn so idc it's going here)

the show is Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous, and just going on looks alone, despite my love for dinosaurs and the Jurassic Park franchise i never would have considered it. it appears to be very much for kids, and as i'm in my late twenties now i'm not particularly interested in especially kiddy media. however a friend my age enjoyed it and mentioned it has a canon lgbtq+ couple in it among the main characters, so of course i just had to watch it. i had already been hearing that despite its initial appearance and premise, it was surprisingly good for a kids' show, so i had already been curious, but i was even more keen after knowing there were queer characters, and not even the adults, the kids themselves (in a kid's show?!! what a time to be alive), so i finally sat down and watched it.

[spoiler warning, both minor and major, for the rest of this post btw, so continue reading at your own risk if you haven't seen it yet/are still watching]

the show overall

okay so firstly, i am coming at all of this from the perspective of a writer, so my observations are from a technical standpoint more so than just as a fan of the show. and honestly, it really is a well-written show as a whole. is it geared towards kids? definitely. there are plenty of jokes/gags in it that just don't appeal to me as an adult, but beyond that, there was plenty to appreciate as an adult.

the writing is actually phenomenal? there were several points in the series where i just sat back and mulled over the way a scene went, what the thought process behind writing it was like, how well it was executed, and how important it was to the characters and overall plot.

the suspense is spot on, nothing gets dragged out too long, and i will admit there have been a few scenes throughout that actually got me; i jumped! it's actually scarier than i expected a kid show to be, but i'm so glad they went where they did because it really elevated the experience.

the pacing overall is very good, adequately engaging for kids' short attention spans (and us adhd adults 🥲) but not too short either to a point where things felt abrupt or unfinished. plot arcs are well developed and tied up nicely. also, as a bit of a dinosaur nerd, the array of dinosaurs in the show is super broad and satisfying! very fun stuff.

character element

imo the real gem of this show is the character development. honestly it's just *chefs kiss*

the characters grow and change so much and so realistically over the course of the show, it's honestly so much better and more satisfying than the character growth in most adult fiction/media recently.

the growth in ben (who btw was def my favorite character by the end of s1) and kenji in particular were my favorites and, in my personal opinion, the most interesting. the way ben started out anxious, cowardly, and rule abiding to a fault, then grew into a brave, confident, adventurous little pyromaniac gremlin, then had that stint later in the series where he regressed a bit-questioning himself-until eventually ultimately striking a great balance and really coming into himself was just... peak character writing.

kenji started out overconfident, lazy, and overly concerned with money/status. but that arrogant overconfidence and laziness slowly turned into responsibility, and a desire to protect his found family, and the realization that it's the people in your life that really matter most.

honestly what i mentioned only scratches the surface in terms of those two characters, there's certainly more that can be said about them (as well as all the others) but i'm not really in the mood for a deep dive character analysis atm. just trust me tho when i say these characters are so well done and each one of them have arcs that are super satisfying to watch play out.

queer representation

and as for the queer couple? yasmina and sammy are PERFECT. it was so beautiful watching their relationship grow from one-sided to mutual friendship, to loyal devotion, then to love. they were set up incredibly well and incredibly naturally. i have like, no complaints when it comes to them. i don't even know if there's anything i can say that would add to things, they were just a really awesome couple to watch become canon, they're the beautiful and painfully needed representation we all beg for in tv and movies.

shipping, chemistry, and intent

but oh goodness... probably my only real complaint about the entire show would be how benji (ben x kenji) and kenji x brooklyn (kenlyn? brookji? idk and idrc) were handled. because for all that this show did SO much beautifully right, they really screwed the pooch here, sadly.

i'm gonna start by saying that the writing in this show, as with most, is deliberate. what i mean by this is that despite having no clue who it would be because my friend thankfully did not even spoil me as far as the genders of the queer couple, i clocked yas and sammy as the would-be queer couple as early as season one (actually it was between them and benji, but more on that later). i could already see the chemistry, because it was deliberately written in.

shipping is subjective. anyone can ship any character, and in most cases it's pretty easy to see how there could be (romantic) chemistry between fan pairings based on their personalities, their arcs, etc. and that's okay! ships don't even have to have any canon support to be valid, because shipping is for the fandom, and it's for fun (i have a few rarepairs and crack ships across different media that i just love).

but onscreen/written romantic chemistry is a lot less subjective (to clarify, it is subjective whether or not the chemistry is good, but it's not subjective about whether or not it exists). there are literally scenes written with the sole purpose of building the romantic tension and/or chemistry between planned couples (some of which even have absolutely zero plot relevance, which usually is not advised tbh, and most of which are the cliches/tropes you see in literally any romance ever written, some are just disguised a little better than others. but make no mistake, it's all the same set of cliches. there is nothing new under the sun), as well as intentional, key moments within scenes that have other purposes. they are essential to establish romantic pairings.

and typically, the foundations for these couples are laid VERY early on. always within the first or second season (well, at least they are when the writer actually knows what they're doing and has at least a rough plan/outline for the entire series & characters. this is usually a large part of what separates the good chemistry from the poor chemistry. an author who knows who the couples are going to be and has a plan from the beginning to build them up is going to be more successful in creating a believable relationship with good chemistry. one who does not plan, or makes last minute plans will almost certainly fail, and the couple is just going to suck). when the set of characters you're working with are going to stay the same for most or all of the story, you start immediately.

i don't mean to toot my own horn, because i think it's because i'm a writer so i just pick up on narrative patterns very easily, and pretty much always clock the planned couples within the first few episodes of any series, and by the end i am right like 9 times out of 10.

that being said, do you know whose deliberately written chemistry i also clocked in jwcc? ben and kenji's.

kenji and... brooklyn?

no offense to people who like/enjoy kenji and brooklyn, you are free to love them, but the way their romance was written is... quite possibly the weakest point of the show. it felt like they were just trying to appease the upsetto heteros in charge, because there was definitely another het pairing that had a lot more potential than kenji and brooklyn (hello darius x brooklyn aka darilyn, you would have actually made sense because your relationship had amazing buildup and multiple standout scenes from s1 on. dgmw, i love that we got a m/f strong, supportive, purely platonic friendship out of them, i live for those and we really need more of them. but we could have had that with kenji and brooklyn, or darius and sammy, or ben and yas, literally any other pair instead).

kenji and brooklyn as a couple came out of absolutely nowhere. i honestly think they decided to shove them together last minute, and had no actual plan for them until they were working on s4. because their development barely started at the VERY end of s3 (the abruptness of him caring about her being held hostage so much more than literally anyone else in their group despite them having like zero buildup to that point gave me whiplash), but honestly didn't really even become "meaningful" development until s4, over halfway through the series. the two spend the first 3 seasons basically not particularly gaf about each other individually, only as part of the whole group and on an equal level with everyone else. they otherwise have no deliberate narrative foundation. it just starts in s4 with no prior hinting. which makes their development rocky and difficult to believe. the funny thing is their characters literally have dialogue (in s4) trying to draw comparisons/parallels between them to say that they especially have a lot in common and like??? no? they really don't? not any more so than any other two kids in the group. their relationship just, really falls flat.

it was disappointing to see it take such a massive spotlight in the series for almost all of seasons 4 and 5, overshadowing the friendships that have been the focus of the show and should have remained so, to the point where at times it just felt like i was watching some stereotypical het highschool romance. genuinely, it made s4 & 5 more of a drag to get through. yasammy and ben and yas' growing bond (which by the way was so sweet, it had the strongest queer solidarity vibes good lord, i sure wonder why yas chose ben out of everyone to come out to first, hmmm) were some of the few things that kept me invested, otherwise i would have dropped it if it had leaned much farther into becoming the kenlyn show than it already was. especially when it was that pair so much of the focus was given to, even though we had so readily and perfectly available, the pair that could have, should have been: benji. which finally brings me to:

ben and kenji

benji's foundation was laid in s1. their interactions, the situations they found themselves in, were deliberate (on the writers' part). i'm even gonna go out on a limb here and say the pairings were fully established in s1e3, even with parallels between yasammy and benji (sammy clinging to yas and ben clinging to kenji throughout the episode), and darilyn gets the beginning of their development too.

even though they bicker a lot in the beginning, they clearly care about each other? kenji protects/helps ben multiple times, and there are definitely some looks ben gives kenji at times. at the end of s1, the one who seems the most deeply effected over ben's "death," other than darius (understandably since he's the one who failed to save him), was kenji! immediately after it happens, we get two close up shots, darius and brooklyn then yasmina and sammy. after which, we go back to the whole group with kenji in center frame, the focus is intentionally on him. it is only kenji who drops to his knees at the loss, and then we get a close up of just kenji. he was saved for last, and he was alone in frame (tbf bumpy was in frame too, but i'm talking humans here), which implies his feelings are especially important in this moment. that is the reason for solo close ups.

after ben's "death," kenji takes to always wearing ben's fanny pack, and up until bumpy--who ben cares VERY much about--got separated from them, kenji was the one who (however briefly) took over her care, ensuring she got off the monorail with them, and he's extremely distraught, more than pretty much all of them, when they can't find her, and he's last to leave when they decide to accept that ben's gone. even when they do leave, he's distant and distracted and his mind is clearly still on ben.

other than darius, kenji is the only one (if i'm remembering correctly) to mention ben/say his name after they lost him, upset because he was actually trying not to think about him. he has clearly thought about ben, probably a lot, because it's hard not to be reminded constantly when you wear something that belonged to a deceased loved one. and frankly, he appears to be the only one who dwells on him that much.

when ben reappears alive (which btw he found the group again because of kenji's butter knife, hello), the frames literally purposely focus on kenji's reaction. he's the one in the foreground every time they show him and brooklyn in that scene. he is the first one to say ben's name, the first one to go to him and hug him, and the scene takes special care to highlight kenji's strong emotions at ben's reappearance, lingering on his teary face as the focus for a bit even after brooklyn enters the frame to hug ben (because she is not at all an important element in the scene at that moment). just like when ben "died," the way this scene is written and shot HEAVILY suggests that ben holds significant importance to kenji, specifically. because again, the focus here is on kenji and ben almost exclusively, with brooklyn as only an afterthought lol. and quite frankly literally everyone else's reaction to him being alive was pretty lackluster compared to the special attention they gave to kenji on this.

and then in s3 we have the infamous hat scene, where darius and ben are in the limo and ben sees and mentions kenji's sailor hat, looking sad and sounding like... longing?? then directly after we switch to kenji realizing he forgot his hat?? the scene has no real significance tbh other than to draw a connection between ben and kenji. like, it acts as a transition to switch to the pov of the group on the boat, but it was entirely unnecessary? why not just have darius say something about the others and then show them on the boat? if there were no special relationship between ben and kenji, it would have made far more sense if they really wanted it to be ben to say something, that he sees the hat, and sadly says something along the lines of "i hope the others are okay/doing better than we are right now/etc" which implies that the hat made him think of everyone, their whole group. rather than what we got... which very much implies that he was mostly just thinking about kenji 💀 and then kenji thinking about the hat at the same time ben's looking at it and thinking of kenji. like, this is.... a very blatant connection being made by the writing/directing here.

all of that. so many deliberate connections made between ben and kenji, they had a very solid foundation laid for a romance to develop, and by all intents and purposes one already WAS developing according to the show's own subtext. which was why up until s4 obliterated the idea, i was positive the queer couple in the show was either going to be yasammy or benji. it was extremely obvious imo. but as soon we started getting the typical, loud, cliche "we are going to pair off these characters" scenes for kenji and brooklyn, i knew we were getting yasammy and not benji (to be clear, i'm not at all upset about yasammy, they're beautiful and i love how their relationship was done, i wouldn't have had it end any other way for them. but i do personally prefer benji, i just like their personalities and dynamic more. and i feel they had so much potential that got wasted to make way for a far less interesting pairing between kenji and brooklyn. why can't we have 2 queer couples, huh? and if we really needed a minimum of one hetero pairing to appease whoever needed appeasing, darilyn was right there).

but then??? their like entire bond just gets dropped (honestly ben himself gets pretty heavily sidelined for almost all of the last two seasons, which is criminal imo). mostly so that a rushed kenji x brooklyn can be established. like there are still a few small moments here and there in early s4, and one episode in s5 (ep 10), but from early s4 till pretty much the end of the series we hardly see them have any meaningful conversations or interactions, meanwhile literally every other combo in the group does.

it's so weird? why build up benji so deliberately over the course of multiple seasons just to like, fully discard it for a pairing with far less chemistry, even after the chemistry-building scenes they shared, some of which literally had no other purpose than to affirm their connection? even though they were very sparse, the moments benji had were just so blatant (kenji leaps into the rock crevice right onto the back of a saber tooth to save ben?!!?? like he literally was just willing to exchange his life for him like that?? he basically says that he wasn't really thinking, he just did it. so he moved out of what, emotional instinct, that's what we're meant to intuit from that series of events? implying that he specifically has strong emotion and doesn't think things through when it comes to ben? because he doesn't do that kinda stuff for any of the others in the group! even better, this parallels when sammy jumped on the nothosaurus to save yasmina. and then the way benji look at each other after it's over??? hello??? and then how kenji pulls both brooklyn and ben in for that hug a couple minutes later... side eyeing the writers for that choice. they knew what they were doing there and they were evil for it). i just can't see any reason to have dropped them like they were, after all the development they shared for 3 seasons. confounding. biggest disappointment of the series.

i know this probably reads to some as just "wahh, my ship didn't become canon" nonsense. but that's not why i'm bugged. this wasn't just a ship i liked and wanted canon despite no actual narrative support, as most ships tend to be. this ship did have narrative support. there was intent behind many of their scenes together, lingering looks and little things that matter narratively and are always used to signify a stronger/special connection. and it led nowhere, for no good reason. that bothers me. writing that implies and promises something, but never delivers on it. like a person who never finishes their sentences (think Dr McPhee from Night at the Museum). ultimately it's not a HUGE deal or anything, at the end of the day it's just a ship and just a kids' show. but as a writer, it's just irritating to see something like that be done. what can i say 🤷

conclusion

even despite the wasted potential between certain pairings, and even though i do think the first three seasons were superior to the last two, overall i really enjoyed the show, and for what it was, it was really well-made. the overarching focus was of course on found family and friendship before anything else, which i absolutely love, and it was masterfully done. out of 6 kids, all of them had at least one or two meaningful bonding moments one-on-one with another in the group, so every possible combination had their moment to build strong, believable friendships with each other. i'm just so surprised by how good it was as a whole honestly, good enough to binge over the course of a week. i will happily recommend jwcc to anyone willing to give it a watch regardless of age, because i definitely think there's no age limit for a good story, no matter the medium it's told in. :)

#jwcc #jurassic world camp cretaceous #benji jwcc #benji #yasammy #yasammy jwcc #i would say that there's prob an age minimum tho... it's a bit scary so depending on the kid i wouldn't rec it to under 10 years #this is a long post #omg so long i'm sorry #i just have a lot to say #gotta shout into the void #it just be like that sometimes #fair warning this post is literally just me praising the show in the first half n then going absolutely off about benji in the second half #review #tv show review #as always with stuff like this that has any mention of ships it is bound to ruffle some feathers #so let me postface this with the reminder that this is all just MY OPINION #you are free to disagree but i'd rather you don't share your disagreements on my post via reblog/notes #feel free to write up your own show/ship review if you feel so strongly #otherwise if you dislike anything i've said you can just scroll past or block me <3

[3rddimension]

On the whole confidence thing, I honestly think Shayne wasn't really too confident back before he and Court started dating either. Like, I think he gave the impression of outward confidence really well, and compared to someone like Courtney the changes he's gone through have been more subtle, but he's also really come into his own a lot.

Like, I think it's funny when people compare Angela's loudness to Shayne's, because frankly, Shayne has gotten quieter over time. I don't think Angela comes CLOSE to 2018 Shayne. Shayne's always been hilarious but he kinda used to drown everyone else out. He leaned so hard into "loudness" being his gimmick that he started to seem less like a person and more like a force of nature. He would fully derail videos by doing solo bits and taking away attention from anything else that was going on. He got away with it back then because he was easily the most talented person on the cast, but nowadays with Smosh in its prime I don't think people would be as appreciative of it.

This isn't a dig at Shayne, I'm just trying to articulate a certain way I feel about him when revisiting Smosh's old content. Shayne has always been the type of guy who is afraid of failure more than anything, and while this still is the case as he's talked about on Smosh Mouth, it used to be VISIBLY worse. This is kinda why he used to derail videos. If any competition was involved, Shayne would rather intentionally fail and be funny doing it than try his hardest and take something seriously and risk failing all the same. It's burying yourself in irony to protect yourself from judgement and criticism.

I think this is why the old Smoshcast was so eye-opening to a lot of people because Shayne used to be a very different person from when you asked him to be funny versus when you asked him to just be himself. It was an incredibly loud, overly-silly person who refuses to take anything seriously versus someone who's down to earth and cares a lot about small things that most people wouldn't pay any mind.

I think Court has changed him a lot because she's someone who, and I mean this in the best way, is used to failure. She's always been very real and authentic, and unlike somebody like Shayne who used to bury all of his bits in several layers of irony to protect himself, she's always been very vulnerable and willing to put herself out there even if it meant floundering on a TNTL or looking like an idiot during a Board AF. This part of her that's willing to fail has never died either, you just see it less often now because she's gotten better at succeeding.

Currently, I think Shayne is so much more of a delight to watch than before. He was always great, but now it feels like you can see more of himself in his funny guy schtick. He's less loud, more down-to-earth, and more willing to actually participate in competition. He's so much more cool, calm, and collected than he used to be. I also feel like his current brand of comedy also lets his dynamic with the rest of the cast flourish more. Back when he used to bury himself in irony, all of his dynamics(except with Olivia) felt like "Shayne and his caretakers", whereas now they moreso feel like "Shayne and his friends".

He still has some ways to go. As I said, he's stated directly on Smosh Mouth that he's still afraid of failure, and that he's sometimes to afraid to try and experiement with things because he's too focused on doing them "correctly". You can also still see him burying himself in irony from time to time, my recent example being when he was brave enough to bring his journal for an episode of Smosh Mouth but not brave enough to read from it in his normal voice, putting on a Chosen voice to avoid engaging with his old writing on a surface level. However, I think he's come leaps and bounds from where he used to be and just like Courtney, deserves praise for that.

I think this is why we all love their relationship so much. I don't just like their on-screen dynamic, I straight up think they bring the best out of each other.

This is like the best essay i've read about Shayne's growth during Smosh tbh. Recommend read for everyone. Thanks for sharing your thought and I wholeheartedly agreed on what you said. He's really opening up a lot since he's in a relationship and being more vulnerable than ever before. It's still work in progress but you can actually see how much different he is back in the day.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Jump Then Fall - Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 5100+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This one doesn’t have any Javier, but I promise the rest of them will! When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30.

**Shoutout to @vanemando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, for holding my hand, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Part 1<<

The drive back to Corpus Christi was uneventful, although my thoughts were anything but. Memories of the night before kept flashing through my mind, the way he touched me, made me feel, the way his nose just barely skirted across my skin, the way he nipped at my chin. The care he gave me and how he took his time when he found out I was inexperienced, rather than running away. There was much more to Javier Peña than what was on the surface, one quick glance into his deep brown eyes was enough to convince me of that. Which made me sad, considering I’d never see him again. 

I blink and I’m in the driveway, putting the car into park. I have no memory of the drive here, which is slightly terrifying. But before I can think any more on that, my mother comes running out of the house, taking my face in her hands and saying a quick prayer in Spanish to bless my safe return before kissing me on both cheeks. It’s then she looks over my shoulder and realizes no one else is in the car with me.

“Did you drive alone, mija?”

Time to lie. “No. I dropped off some people just past Laredo.”

Her face relaxes. “Oh good. I’m glad you made friends.” She claps her hands together. “Come! Tell us all about your trip while you help me with dinner.”

I tell my parents all about my time in Mexico, how I not only taught English but helped to build the church and the school house, how I made some friends and how others got called to another mission.

“The university wants to talk to me tomorrow and talk about the summer. To see if they should continue the program.”

My dad smiles at me. “We are so proud of you, mi niña. Setting such a good example to others.”

“Speaking of good examples…Miguel is still single.”

“Mami!” I blush, heat rising up my cheeks at the mention of Miguel. She had been trying to get us together for years, but neither of us had feelings beyond friendship. 

She points at me. “Miguel es un buen muchacho [Miguel is a good boy]. When will you see that and go on a date with him? I want nietos already.”

I groan. “Mami! I’m not ready for kids right now.”

She looks at me, waving her hand. “No entiendo Vanessa [I don’t understand] . By your age, I was already engaged to your father.”

—-

My life settled back into its normal monotonous routine: class, job, home, sleep. Repeat. I never realized exactly how boring my life was until I had spent the summer in Mexico. 

More like, until I spent the night with Javier.

I wonder where he is now. Is he still on his business trip? It’s been just over a month since we had our…meet. I got the feeling he was going to be gone for a while and that he either wouldn’t or couldn’t talk about it. Maybe he’s a spy? I chuckle at the thought. Wherever he is, I hope he’s doing well. 

Based on my report, the university decides to repeat the program the following summer with new teachers and asks me to give a little seminar on what I did, what to expect, what to pack, and everything that I think they should know. I have to admit, it was nerve wracking getting up in front of everyone. I felt nauseous all day thinking about getting on that stage and talking. But everyone was interested and asked great questions, immediately putting me at ease. My professors thanked me for everything and said they’d be in touch with me about possibly returning the next summer. I’d never really thought about going back, but the thought is definitely tempting. 

And maybe I can stop in Laredo on the way back. No, Vanessa. It was a one time thing. You’re probably making up the connection you felt. There’s no way he felt anything for you. 

—-

A couple months later, my mom calls me down to the kitchen where she’s gathering up her purse, a paper list in her hand. 

“Do you need anything from the store, mija?” 

“I don’t think so. Just….maybe no pork? I can’t stand the smell of it now.”

My mom chuckles. “Mexico really changed you. Carnitas used to be your favorite.”

Even just the thought of pork, which I hadn’t had the entire time I was in Mexico, made my stomach churn. 

“I guess I just got used to not eating it a few times a week.”

She nods and then looks around. Spotting no one, she leans in close to me and nearly whispers. “Do you need more…lady things?”

I furrow my eyebrows together. What is she - oh. My mom was always sort of embarrassed by periods, and so, if she had to talk about it, she would always whisper, afraid anyone would hear her talk about something that is experienced by arguably more than half the planet. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so?”

“You haven’t gotten any more since Mexico. Do you still have some?”

“Uh…let me check.”

I go upstairs and into my bathroom, kneeling to open the under the sink cabinet. I shuffle some things around and grab the boxes of pads I had put back when I returned from Mexico. There’s a bunch left, almost as if I hadn’t used any since I got back.

Had I used any since I got back?

I close the doors and head back to my mom, telling her I was still good with pads. She looks slightly relieved at not having to traverse the feminine hygiene isle, giving me a small smile and squeezing my shoulder. 

“When I get back, I’ll need help with dinner.”

I don’t mind helping with dinner, as I do like to eat, but I wish she’d stop asking me about Miguel. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Miguel was now dating Maria - they just weren’t telling anyone yet. I wasn’t supposed to know either, but I went into the church storeroom one day to grab a few extra Bibles and I saw them making out. Which immediately made me think of Javier, the place between my thighs tingling at the mere thought of his name. I wish I knew more about him- no, Vanessa. Don’t go down that path any more.

“...you invite Miguel over after church?”

“Hhmm?” I hadn’t been listening to anything my mom had been saying.

“Miguel. Why don’t we invite him to our after church lunch?”

“Uh..no. Miguel won’t want to do that.”

She looks at me out of the corner of her eye as she continues chopping.. “And why not? You are a beautiful girl, smart. You would have good babies-”

“He’s already with Maria, mom.”

She stops chopping and looks at me. “Maria?”

“Delgado.”

“Ay. That girl is bad news.”

“Miguel seems to like her.”

“Ah, well..men can be blind.”

—-

“We’re going to be late, mija! Hurry up!”

“Just a minute!” I yell, desperately trying to zip up my church dress. 

I wear this one often but it had been a few weeks and for some reason, the zipper won’t budge. I let out a puff of air in frustration, yanking the dress back down my body. Now that the dress is off my body, I look at the zipper, seeing no fabric stuck in it. I try to zip it closed and it glides easily up. 

“Oh sure. Now you want to zip.”

I toss it on my bed, turning back towards my closet when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I stand there in my bra and underwear, looking at my body. Did I…did I gain weight? I haven’t changed my eating. If anything, I’ve been eating less. I turn to the side, my hands gliding over the skin on my lower stomach. I can see a small pooch there and I grunt in confusion. How did I gain weight if I’ve been avoiding so much food? 

“Vanessa!”

I poke my head out of my door. “I’m not feeling well, mom. I’m going to stay home.”

She pauses. “You shouldn’t miss church.”

“I don’t want to get everyone sick.”

She pauses again and I swear I can hear her nod. “Ok. We will be back after lunch. I’ll bring you back some soup.”

“Thanks, mom.”

I hear the door downstairs close, the car pulling out of the driveway and driving off down the road. I wait about 15 minutes before I pull on whatever clothes I can find that fit me, grabbing my wallet and keys before getting in my car. I have to get some stomach medicine or something. I head to the pharmacy, thankful that the people I know who work here are all at church. I don’t want anyone to see me buying medicine to stop me throwing up my insides. I scan the rows of bottles for the ones for upset stomach. I grab one, flipping the box over for directions, my lips moving with the words as I read them.

“.....as long as symptoms persist. If symptoms worsen or do not improve after 3 days, call your doctor right away. Do not use if pregnant or breastfeeding. May cause interactions with certain medications…”

I freeze, my eyes rewinding the words I just read.

“Do not use if pregnant or breastfeeding….pregnant…pregnant…”

My brain kicks into high gear, and I stare at the bottle, not really seeing it. The boxes of pads that were sitting unused from my time in Mexico still sit unused under my sink. My aversion to foods I normally loved. The fact I can only keep about half of my food down. The weight gain despite this. My lower belly…my hand instinctively comes up to my belly, placing my hand there for a moment as panic starts to set in.

Could I be…no. Javier used a condom. He showed me as he did it. That’s supposed to prevent…prevent…

I grip the bottle of medicine in my hand, knuckles going white. Slowly, I turn and head out of the isle, looking for the one with the women’s products. I turn it down, grateful that it’s empty. I stand in front of the pads, pretending I’m looking for some while my eyes scan down the rows of pregnancy tests. It’s all overwhelming and I can feel the panic rising rapidly in my body. I quickly grab a box at random, hiding it under my arm as I make my way up to the register. No one is in line and I don’t know the cashier. I place the bottle of medicine and the pregnancy test on the counter, looking around nervously for anyone I may know. If the cashier thought anything of my purchase, they didn’t show it, scanning the items and quickly placing them in a bag as I handed them cash. 

When I get home, I run upstairs, locking my bathroom door behind me just in case my parents come back early. My parents. What am I going to say to them? One step at a time, Vanessa. You may just have some weird stomach thing. I take a breath and open the bag, setting the bottle down on the counter and pulling out the small box of pregnancy tests. I throw up once more before opening the box and pulling out the directions, reading them several times through tear blurred vision. I somehow manage to pee on the stick, setting it aside and looking at my watch to check the time. 

This has got to be the slowest 3 minutes of my life. 

When I check my watch and it’s finally time, I take a deep breath before…taking another deep breath. And then I flip the test over. 2 bright pink lines stare up at me and I hold the stick against the directions comparing them. Double lines means pregnant. Pregnant. I’m pregnant. 

I drop the stick, sinking down to the floor as I put my back against the wall. How am I pregnant? I only ever had sex with Javier and that was only one time. And he wore one of those condoms. Aren’t they supposed to stop people from having babies? Wait, if I’ve been pregnant since then, I’m like 3 months along. I should be making a doctor’s appointment. What doctor can I go to that doesn’t know my parents? 

My parents.

There’s no way I’m going to be able to hide a baby from them. How do I explain it? Hey mom, dad. I met a stranger in Laredo and we had sex and now I’m pregnant even though he wore a condom. 

What do I do?

—--

I spent the next 2 weeks trying to figure out what I was going to do. I wasn’t sure how my parents would react, considering they did want grandkids. But there’s no way they’re going to approve of this baby. In case of the worst, I start gathering up little things here and there - a few random pieces of clothes, the toiletry kit I had brought to Mexico, some little trinkets. I managed to sneak them down to my car, leaving them in the trunk in case I had to leave quickly. I really hope it didn’t come to that. But when I could no longer zip up my favorite pair of pants, I knew I had to tell them. 

We all sit down to dinner, mom passing out plates and filling my papá’s plate with a large portion of food. Once everyone is settled, and grace is said, I clear my throat, my mom glancing up at me as she picks up her fork. 

“I uh…I have to tell you something.”

My papá spears some food on his fork and takes a bite, chewing as he turns his head towards me, a questioning look on his face. 

“Did that Miguel finally get rid of Maria?” My mom asks.

“What? No. I don’t know? That’s not-”

“I knew that girl was trouble. Always showing off in choir. You know, her mom said she got some fancy scholarship to a music school, but here she is, still here. I wonder why-”

“Mami. I need to say something.”

“-why she’s still here? She probably stayed for that boy. Maybe it’s good-”

“MAMI!”

“-good that Miguel didn’t ask Vanessa out. Maybe he’s no good-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. You could hear the grass growing outside it’s so quiet. My parents stare at me, the fork halfway to my papá’s open mouth. 

“What?” My mom asks.

I hesitate a moment. “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

“That’s not funny, Vanessa. Don’t you joke about something like this. You know I don’t like the humor you young people think is funny.”

I look down at my plate before looking back at her. “I’m not…I’m not joking.”

Silence again. No movement. But I can feel the disappointment, the anger building in them.

“I’m about…3 months? I think?”

Still silence.

“I only just found out.” I cast my eyes down, looking at my plate of untouched food and realize that half of it I actually want to eat, while the other half makes me want to run to the bathroom. 

“Salga [Get out].” He says it quietly, but his tone has layers of anger, hurt, and disappointment all trying to bubble out.

I look up, surprised that it’s my papi saying it. 

“What?”

“Salga. Yo no te quiero en esta casa. [Get out. You are no longer welcome in this house].”

“But papi-”

“Don’t! Largarte!  Now.”

I glance at my mom, who has tears in her eyes. She gives me a look of utter disgust and looks away from me, showing her support of her husband’s decision. 

I stand, pushing the chair away from the table. “Can I just grab some thing-”

“You should have thought of that before you opened yourself up for a man. What were you thinking? You are no longer a daughter of mine!”

My papi’s words slice through me like butter, stabbing me so hard that tears start to fall before I even know they’re there. I walk to the front door, pausing only to put on my shoes before getting in my car and driving about a block before I sit at the stop sign. I knew deep down this may be their reaction, which is why I started packing my trunk. But it still hurts. I need my parents right now, but…

Where do I go?

I turn left, driving a few blocks to knock on my friend Ximena’s door. But instead of my friend, her mom comes to the door, a stern look on her face as she shoos me away, telling me I’m not welcome in their home. I’m met with the same reaction at the next 3 places I go and I realize that my parents must have called everyone we knew to tell them not to let me in, that I had done something so terrible. I doubt they told anyone the truth, that their only child was unwed, single, and pregnant, but our church community is so strong, they apparently didn’t need more than my parent’s word to kick me out. 

I stop at a little diner across town, a burger actually sounding really good to me. As I eat, I think about what to do next. It’s getting late, and while I could rent a hotel room, I won’t have enough money to do that for very long. I have no friends left in Corpus Christi, that much is clear. So…where do I go? As I eat and let the tears fall, I think about that night, about Javier. And I realize, there’s only one place left for me to go, even if it’s just until I get on my feet. I finish eating, leaving money on the table for the bill and tip, and head out to my car. It’s a 4 hour drive there, which I can’t do in the dead of night. I drive to the highway and find the closest motel, getting a room for the night that I can cry myself to sleep in.

—----

The next day, I start the drive to Laredo, oddly calm considering the situation. I can do this next step - get to Laredo. I’ll ask around for Javier and see if anyone knows where he lives. I don’t expect anything from him, and I’ll tell him as much. But I would appreciate a place to stay while I figure out where to go next. 

After a few bathroom stops, I finally make it to Laredo, finding the bar I had met Javier in that night. It’s not open for a few hours, so I take that time to have some lunch and a short nap in my car, waking to the sound of the main door closing. I walk up to it and push it open, walking inside. The bartender is cleaning down the bar, getting things set up for the rush in a few hours.

“Excuse me?”

He turns to me, wiping out the glass in his hand.  “Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m looking for a Javier Peña? He’s about this tall-”

The bartender chuckles. “I know Javier. Haven’t seen him in a bit though.”

“Oh.”

The bartender seems to sense my despair and he sets the now clean glass down. “Look, his dad lives on a farm just outside of town. I’ll give you the address and maybe he can tell you where Javier is.” He scribbles down an address on a napkin and hands it to me, giving me a small smile. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

—-

I pull up to the Peña farm about 40 minutes later, after the bartender had given me some general directions. It’s not a large farm but it’s not small either, and I think I can see a river in the far distance. I park in front of the farmhouse and get out, smoothing out my dress before walking to the front door and knocking. At first, no one answers. But then I hear clanging coming from the barn around back, so I head in that direction, poking my head just inside the barn door.

“Excuse me?”

The man in the barn stops hammering and turns quickly to look at me, hammer slightly raised in defense. He’s older, a nearly all white mustache with matching hair poking out from under a white cowboy hat, glasses poised on the edge of his nose. His eyes remind me of Javier’s and I realize this must be his dad. 

“You must have taken a wrong turn, señorita. Town is several miles that way.” He points and I give him a small smile.

“Actually…are you señor Peña?”

He studies me for a moment. “Depends. Which Peña are you looking for?”

“Javier’s papá?”

He looks at me, trying to figure out why I would be here talking to him. “He’s not here.”

“Not back from his business trip?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Any idea when he will be back?

“No. Probably not anytime soon.”

I nod, my face falling slightly. 

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I uh…I’m not sure. Maybe this was a stupid idea.”

I turn to leave, willing the tears that had been building in my eyes to not fall.

“Wait.”

I stop, looking up at the older Peña. His eyes glance down towards my belly, where I had unconsciously placed my hand. A look of realization washes over him and his kind eyes meet mine, an odd expression in them.

“How old are you?”

“N..nineteen.”

He swears, glancing up at the ceiling before back at me, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “He’s the father?”

I nod, looking down at the dirt covered floor.

“You’re sure?”

I blus, not able to meet his gaze. “He’s the only one I..I’ve ever…”

He puts his hand up. “Ok ok. I understand.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Are you hungry?”

That was not what I was expecting. “Oh I…I don’t expect anything.”

He smiles and it reaches his eyes, instantly calming me. “You’re not an inconvenience, you’re the mother of my only grandchild. Come.”

He waves his hand for me to follow him, placing the hammer down on his workbench before we head to the main house. It’s a 2 story farm house, sparsley decorated with furniture that he most likely got when Javier was born. It’s worn but well loved and I instantly feel a sense of safety, despite never having been here. He leads me into the kitchen and has me sit at the little island bar while he makes me a simple sandwich, asking me what I’m not eating and what is safe. He slides me a glass or orange juice, saying it was fresh squeezed and good for the vitamin c. I take it, thanking him while I try not to inhale the food, not having eaten in several hours. Chucho clears his throat and I swallow the last bite of my sandwich, looking at him as I take a sip of the juice.

“Did you tell him?”

I set the glass down, spinning it counterclockwise for a moment. “No. I only found out a couple of weeks ago.”

He nods. “How far along?”

“Around 3 and a half months?”

“Have you been to a doctor?”

I shake my head. “Like I said, I only found out a couple weeks ago and my parents kicked me out when they found out so…”

He swears under his breath. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I don’t have the money for that. I don’t have the money for anything. Oh God, I don’t have money! How am I going to…to…”

Tears start flowing out of nowhere, uncontrollable as I sob at this man’s table. Chucho comes to stand next to me, turning my body to hug me as he lets me sob into his shirt. He makes calming sounds, telling me everything will be fine. That I’m not alone. 

“But…but I am alone, Chucho.”

“Not anymore. You have me.”

I look up at him, blinking away the last of my tears. “Oh no, I couldn’t-”

“What did I say earlier? You’re the mother of my only grandchild. Can I assume you have nowhere to stay?”

“I’m ok in my car.”

He gives me a stern look. “That won’t do. You’ll take one of the rooms here.”

I shake my head, starting to wave him off. “Oh, I couldn’t-”

“You can. What you can’t do is live in your car pregnant and with a baby.”

He feels fatherly, warm and safe and I can feel the tears coming on again so I nod, accepting the help that I desperately need. “Th-thank you. I promise I’ll earn my keep.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no need-”

“Please. Let me at least clean and cook? My mami taught me how and I can make really good food.”

“It’s not necessary-”

“Please let me do this?”

He studies me for several long moments. “Alright. But when you’re near your time, you’re going to rest, understand?”

I nod, smiling slightly. “Thank you, Chucho.” I take another sip of my juice while he takes a swig of his beer, the sound of the ticking clock loud in the silence of the house.

“You said Javier won’t be back anytime soon. Can I ask what he does?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

I blush. “Oh, well we uh..didn’t really…he didn’t-”

“Ay I don’t need to know,” he chuckles. “But Javier is in Colombia, working hard to take down Pablo Escobar.”

I spit out my juice, apologizing profusely as I try to dry it up with a paper towel. “He’s what?”

“Yeah. DEA. So when I said it won’t be anytime soon…”

“Was he happy to go?”

“He definitely saw it as a promotion, a chance to go and prove himself.”

I knew about Pablo Escobar of course, but to hear that my Javier- no, not my Javier. Just Javier - was trying to catch him? That is impressive.

“He doesn’t call often, but next time he does, you can tell him about the baby-”

“No!”

Chucho looks at me, straightening himself up and squaring his shoulders. “No?”

I take a breath. “I know I only spent a….little time with Javier, but he seems like the guy to try and be honorable?” Chucho shrugs and nods. “Then I can’t tell him.”

“Why?”

“Because if I do, he’ll come home. And then he will resent us. I can take it, but the baby? I can’t do that to my child. He will resent us both for bringing him home from this huge career move. We are only 2 people. The entire world needs him. Plus, what if....what if he doesn't come back?”

Chucho’s eyes are hard as he processes what I’ve said. “You’re right about Javi, but I still think you should tell him. He deserves to know.”

“I’ll tell him. I will. When he catches Escobar.”

“That could be years, Vanessa.”

I nod. “I know. And I take full responsibility.”

“That you are.”

—----

Chucho holds true to his word, inviting me to live in his home. I cook and clean for him and, even though he grumbles about it, I see him coming to dinner on time more and more, being able to rest after a long day on the farm as opposed to cleaning. As we eat, he tells me more about Javier, his childhood and the man he grew to become. What I don’t tell Chucho is that with every story, even the bad ones, I fall a little harder for his son.

He also works out a deal with a doctor in town so I can get OB care until I can get insurance. One day, he comes home from church with a crib and several boxes of baby stuff, saying the women in his church donated their old baby things to me (he’d told them I was his new live in maid, a young girl who was recently single. Not an exact lie, but they all assumed the man either left me or I was widowed, which made them open their hearts a little more to me). 

He made me stop working so hard around 33 weeks, saying I should’ve stopped sooner. He insists I rest and relax, feed into my nesting instinct. He had cleaned out one of the other rooms to make nursery, putting the crib in there but pulling out an old bassinet from the attic, telling me it was Javier’s. 

Chucho is there holding my hand when I go into labor and is there when my son is born. Javier Alexander Morales Peña came screaming into the world, just as every bit as stubborn as his dad, according to Chucho anyway. Tears well up in his eyes when he holds Alex for the first time, telling him how handsome and strong he is. That he’s truly a Peña man. 

When Alex turns 2, Chucho demands that I go back to school, as I was only a year away from getting my degree in education. He watches Alex at night while I go to school and, a year later, I graduate with my degree, landing a job that coming school year at Laredo Elementary, which gives Alex, who will be 4 soon after, a slot in their pre-k program. 

As Alex grows, he asks about his dad. I decided to tell him the truth - that his dad is a hero, trying to catch a very bad man in another country and that he can’t come back until he does. That the world won’t be safe until the bad man is caught. Alex accepts this and makes up stories about his dad, flying around with a cape and fighting off bad guys to give us all a better world. 

One summer afternoon a couple years later, Alex had just gone off to camp for a couple of weeks. He’s 6 now and “a big boy”, so he begged to go off to a science camp with his friends for a few weeks. It was hard to not have him around, but I knew he was having a great time. I’m elbow deep in sink water, washing the pans from breakfast when the phone rings. Chucho picks it up upstairs after a couple rings and when he doesn’t call for me, I know it’s for him. I finish with the last pan, setting it off to side, sliding my rubber gloves off and reaching for the drying towel. I pick up the pan, drying it off when I hear Chucho coming downstairs. He walks into the kitchen and stands there for a moment watching me.

“Chucho? You ok?”

“I uh…I’m going to the airport.”

“Chucho…Are you finally taking a vacation?”

He gives me a small smile before it leaves his face. “Actually, I’m going to pick up Javier.”

—----

>>Part 3>>

General Taglist:

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#javi peña #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena #javi pena #narcos #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fan fic #javier pena ff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #javijueves #pedropascal #pedropascaledit #pedro pascal fanfic

[kxmpfflieger]

I wish to be upfront about a few things

Hey gang, let's have a talk about the future of this account.

In truth, I no longer wish to associate myself with the history community, specifically the Great War subsection I've actively participated in for the last (three-ish?) years.

I'm going to be blunt and say that it is because of the people I've come across. This place is a minefield, and every second mine that blows up in your face starts a chain reaction worse than the last. Its terrible. Ive hated it. And my only mistake has been not openly stepping down a year ago like I originally wanted. There's been a LOT of unsavory characters that I have followed and supported unknowingly, and people that I've just encountered out in the wild that just made me sick to my stomach. Despite my better judgement, I've persisted, but I recognise the toll it has taken on my mental health is really not worth any of this.

To add insult to injury, actively being in the history community has made me scared of engaging with other communities in fear of being ousted for the stigma WW/Imperial Germany art can carry in general, and its become a problem the more I've grown tired and fallen out of love with this material.

I wish to branch out, I don't want to be associated with this community anymore because of the shit I've seen and how insensitive and out-of-touch a lot of the people seem to be about such serious subjects.

My relationship with Martyrs is definitely not what it used to be, same goes for the "source material". I wish I could tell you a few bad apples didnt spoil the basket, but they did. In truth, I've lost the love I held for it.

A mix of the rancid experiences I've had with the community this past year, combined with the fact publishing comics as a One Man Team is something I wouldn't wish upon anyone (burnout, impostor syndrome, having to deal with carpal tunnel for the rest of my life now partially because of it, off the top of my head).

I don't want to drop the comic nor the characters I've made, developed and invested myself in for the past two years of my life. I need time to heal my relationship with my art, Martyrs in its entirety, and just broaden my horizons with other fandoms instead of limiting myself to one thing. I will not abandon what I've worked so hard for, but I need time to pull myself back up.

I don't plan on stopping art of the characters entirely. But please be aware that if that was the only content you followed me for, you will have to deal with lots of other unrelated stuff from now on.

Getting myself lost in the absolute minefield this place is (the ww community) is not something I wish to do again. I dont want to be considered a member of it. I want to be an outsider occasionally dropping by. Only surface level stuff with art of my characters and comic, that's it.

I'm grateful for the connections and the wonderful close friends I've made. For all the lovely fan-works and words of love and endorsement I've received. But I need to take better care of myself, and there are very clear and specific steps I need to take to do so. I debated making this post in the first place and just phasing out ww art out slowly overtime, but doing so didnt feel right.

If you wish to unfollow me after this, please go ahead. You're not obligated to stay, nor am I obligated to keep you here. Thank you for sharing this journey with me for the past two years.

#tldr i dont want to be part of the history community anymore #too many rotten apples in one basket have absolutely ruined all the fun i used to have here #i want to draw other things that bring me joy #martyrs will go on but will not be my main rocus since i need to heal my relationship with it #webcomics are too much work for one person to achieve without backup #thats all i think #see you on the other side #hopefully theres no edits i need to make #its hard to make my emotions coherent

[kookiyu]

I've been rereading from the start for the 28th time and was thinking about the first chapter Namari appears and how strong it is...

We don't know anything about her before now but this exchange she has with Laios is really engaging and tells us a lot about her place in the party and her personality. She and Laios have a shared obsessive fussiness about their particular passions that comes across as really overbearing and offputting to other people... We see throughout the series and in the daydream hour omake chapters that prior to chapter 1 Laios had been hiding his interest in monsters from everyone for a Long Time. He sits on his feelings about things and is a terrible communicator because he's afraid to open his mouth and be completely ostracized by everyone around him, based on his experiences growing up. His silence and passivity usually turns into him being exploited by others (we never learn the exact reason for his desertion but we do know that the caravan he used to work for seemed to treat him especially poorly before Falin showed up.)

Namari, on the other hand, is a huge bitch. She's extremely vocal and opinionated about things and is fearlessly insistent and unashamed of it... Laios sees this part of her and where it comes from and he respects her for it, probably because he looks up to her lack of a filter. The 'undiagnosed autistic person being ruled by shame and self-censoring by just never raising their voice' is a real and common phenomenon and we see it a lot in Laios. His line at the end of the page here and his willingness to face the brunt of her criticism shows how much he appreciates her.

Meanwhile when she listens to Laios and Senshi talk about how to prepare tentacles and sees him expressing himself unfiltered her expression is just raw shame and dread... In the context of the chapter there's definitely the practical element of "oh my god, he's eating the monster that killed Kiki" but the expressiveness in Kui's art conveys a really particular mix of emotions to me and I can only see it as a kind of projected anxiety towards Laios. It's compromising for her; She cares a lot more than she lets on about the Touden party and Laios himself. There's a sense of responsibility for enabling him and a sense of protectiveness, like 'if anyone else finds out what you're doing they're going to treat you worse than you can imagine!' But I think more than anything she's afraid for herself. Namari is a Dwarf's Dwarf. She was exiled because of something her father did and it's haunted her her entire life... Being closely associated with Laios and the rest of the party would mean not only is she associated with a criminal, she's also involved with the psychos who've been eating monsters. That's on top of the fact that seeing someone she cares about behave the same way that she does without any of the defensive reflexes she falls back on to shield herself makes her scared! You can't just be yourself in front of others like that, because they'll always see the worst in you and run with it. She also seems to struggle with her own feelings towards the party, considering how she's not shy about letting other people know she thinks Laios is weird in contrast to how she can't abandon him or the others when they need her... It's great character writing.

There's a brief exchange near the end of the chapter/beginning of the next where she talks about the importance of an adventurer's reputation... Other peoples opinions of her matter a Lot, and reasonably so! She's had an unbelievably hard time of it, being exiled from a culture built around extremely close-knit communities and networks of support for something she didn't do... I think it makes complete sense why her motivations seem completely self-interested on the surface, and it's because she needs to find her people. For as shitty as Mr. Tansu can treat her (the human shield thing is bananas; you get the sense that he wouldn't be doing it if he didn't know he could just revive her after), they're also a really close adoptive family, and they all seem to love her a lot (the twins in particular, for obvious reasons). Wanting to be a part of that makes so much sense for her. I love how dense this chapter is looking back with the full context of the series as a whole... As much as I wish she'd had more scenes with everyone, I'm really happy with what we got anyway. Namari leaves such a strong impression in spite how infrequently she shows up... One of my favs for sure

#dungeon meshi #long ass post #i just love namari a lot im always thinkin about her at least a lil bit

[insurrection-if]

With Mockingbird (I want to say mockingjay really bad, thanks Hunger Games) gift being so centered around biting and consumption, could it be easy to imagine some mcs have more mouthy behaviors? Like Mc has a subconscious/nervous tic to lightly bite at their own hand or bite at their close friends and families.

How the ros react to seeing it happen? And would they have a particular reaction to Mc lightly biting them casually in romantic relationships (never enough to draw blood)?

｡ﾟ ( ﾟ^∀^ﾟ)ﾟ｡ I can deeply relate to the tendency for biting and mouthy behaviors as a means of comfort . . . just not when it comes to biting other people, haha! Goodness, I bit and chewed on everything as a kid! Thankfully, I’ve settled down to only biting my nails and having a horrible relationship with gum, haha! (Seriously, give me a single piece of gum and I won’t be able to eat or speak the whole next day due to the soreness of my jaw.)

But yes, I imagine that mouthy and biting behaviors are super fitting for some MCs—I really love the thought of it! (　´∀｀)b

Akil

Biting Themself: His first instinct would be to chide against such behavior, thinking it unsanitary, unsafe, and simply a poor habit for self-conduct. He might try to catch Mockingbird's hand before it can reach their waiting teeth and open lips, careful to not hurt them as he does so, and guide it to rest within his own upon a table or their lap. If they had a penchant for biting their hair, he might form a (mindless) habit of brushing it behind their ear / shoulders so it may be out of reach from their mouth.

Akil would also likely gift Mockingbird gloves of some kind in order to prevent the skin of their hands from taking much damage or stress from this habit.

Biting Him: The beginnings of soft curses die out on his lips whenever he feels your teeth capture his skin, his instinctual resistance eased into a tired sigh when your bites prove to be curious and light. He prefers to have your bites on his hands when they are protected by gloves, and those that wander closer to his shoulders and neck are better received once the day is done.

If you must bite him to soothe yourself, unable to control this habit by sheer will, he would request you do so solely in private.

Kamiko

Biting Themself: From anyone else, she would assume it to be yet another eccentricity among the odd company she holds. She resists lifting a brow towards this unsanitary habit, and the fixation of her gaze as you engage in this behavior carries a soft layer of concern. It seems to be harmless physically and mentally. You seem to take comfort and satisfaction in those unconscious bites. She tells herself it is cuter than it is disconcerting, but these internal words don't always ring true.

If anyone else had anything to say about this habit, whether it be teasing or shaming, she would not think before rising to your defense.

Biting Her: It does not make sense to her. Your gift, strange and ever-changing as it is, has always longed for the bloody connection to your fellow Gifted alone. In the beginning, she had assumed your habit to be a manifestation of its insatiability . . . of the natural predator's instinct that laid behind the odd and alluring surface you presented.

But she is no Gifted. And yet, even still, it seems you are still drawn to nip and tug at her exposed skin with a gentleness both thoughtless and dangerous from a mouth so ravenous.

It used to frighten her. Beneath the false serenity she tried to wear when she first started to lose her heart to you, there had been a cold dread that weighed in her stomach whenever your teeth casually grazed and caressed her. Self-discipline had kept her still. A longing for trust, unquestionable and true, kept her vague horror contained to a stoic tension easily misread as shyness.

In time, in a process as gradual as it was subconscious, that fear had been lost. Instead, it has been replaced by the presence of the faintest blush as she "tolerates" the strange habit, only pushing you away with a light hand whenever a professional air needs to be kept.

Sigmund

Biting Themself: Once he recognizes this to be a common nervous tic, he will be vigilant in keeping an eye out for it.

He will ask if something is on their mind, if something is troubling them. If there is a burden they are keeping to themself, mulling over and coping with through this behavior, he would want the weight of it to be shared with him.

As he tries to coax them to speak on whatever matter might be worrying them, direct yet patient in his approach, he too would reach out his hand for Mockingbird to take hold, either so he can examine the extent of irritation that may have been caused to their skin or simply to hold their hand as a means of support / keeping it from their nervous bites.

If Mockingbird is not troubled by anything, simply having fallen into the act by absent-minded habit, he would be relieved to hear that is the case. Still, he would consider this a sign to perhaps distract Mockingbird with some shared company or activity in order to pull them out from whatever daze or mood urged them to bite themself in the first place.

Biting Him: He hates how much he enjoys this.

He hates how easily his smiles come as your teeth gnaw and cling to him without hesitation or thought. How laughter threatens to seep past his lips as you nip with the odd and dangerous cuteness of a pet.

It stirs something within him to know you are so comfortable with him, bearing trust in him to not hurt or reject you as you soothe yourself with these soft bites. Even when his pulse seems to spike when your teeth meet his skin, burning with a worry and excitement you must practically taste, he cannot help but enjoy the moment that would seem so strange to another's eyes.

He cares little for who sees this little quirk of yours. Whether your bites stay fixated on his hands or stray upwards to nip at his neck, it would be a rare occurrence for him to ever fully deny you this small habit of comfort.

Imka

Biting Themself: She would notably worry, from acquaintanceship to the crushing stage, over Mockingbird potentially hurting themself with such a habit. Then again, she possesses her own nervous tics that some of the others have occasionally tried to dissuade, and she knows how hard it is to quell something so ingrained and comforting.

If she saw them particularly distressed / antsy / rough in their habit, she would shyly request to hold their hand in hers. Her touch would hover lightly above the stressed skin, trying to observe potential irritation or scratches caused by the pressure of your teeth. If there is need to tend to it, she will. If not, then she will hesitate a moment before asking if there's anything she can do to distract Mockingbird, hoping to occupy them from the mindless habit as best she can.

Biting Her: Sometimes, a tickled yelp escapes her. Other times, a flustered gasp slips past her lips. But when it comes to her most common reaction of all, rarely does she manage to voice the shock of her scattered thoughts through more than a squeak.

Her face burns with the intensity of embarrassment and desire all at once, the simple habit to you feeling far too intimate for any returned casual indifference. Your lips graze and tease her. Your teeth stir her heart with an equal sense of fear and excitement. To know you are drawn to her like this, feel comfortable with her like this . . . it's enough to make her a little dizzy.

She feels all the more like a foolish, lovesick pup to be so flustered by what is little more than a thoughtless habit to you.

Elouan

Biting Themself: "You should not be so cruel to yourself, dear."

There is no seriousness to his tone, the words given with a smile more polite than it is genuine. "You are the most enchanting creature I have ever seen. To sully yourself with the stress of your teeth, marring your skin like this again and again . . . I fear you might not understand just what kind of perfection you are tearing at with those little bites.”

Instinctively, his own hands tug at the ends of his gloves, his own tic of comfort at the thought of any ruin you might cause to your skin. Yet his smile remains, as empty a gesture as it is.

He will not force an end to the habit, but he would not wish to encourage it either. A tense smile, a polite one depending on his mind and mood, would be all he gives before diverting his gaze from your little habit.

He would, however, insist that you clean your hands / skin before and after indulging in this quirk of yours. He will assist in cleaning your hands himself if need be to ensure that you do.

Biting Him: If deeper into your relationship, the pressure of your teeth, light though it may be, pleases him all the same.

Never will he let your little bites mindlessly nip and graze the bare skin of his hands—the aching memories of their scars too sensitive even for the sweet toying of your harmless habit—but, with gloves adorned, they are yours for the taking.

Sometimes he will pretend to pay it no mind, casually continuing conversations with another as you capture his hand between your teeth. Sometimes he will offer the odd compliment to the brilliance of your teeth, the light brush of your lips, or the skill of your bites that satisfy you without any true harm to himself.

It calls to mind the lost companionship of his precious little birds, the occasional nip and grip of their beaks as they climbed and sought to share their affection with him.

It is no wonder then that he takes much more to calling you pet once this habit has fully revealed itself in time, though he does not take conscious notice of the newfound fondness he has for this endearment towards you.

Jae

Biting Themself: Once, she would have laughed at the sight. Like an itchy dog, you nibble and capture your own skin between your teeth without care or concern for whoever might see this odd habit at play. How could she not consider a quirk like this to be so humorous a thing to see?

Friendship makes her question her laughter. Love, slow as it might be, makes her laughter cease, replaced by a fond smile and fierce resistance to any who may make a comment in judgement.

She is not one to force change upon you. If this brings you comfort, then she will stand by and allow you this little, if strange, respite from whatever might trouble your mind. Yes, she will do her part in cleaning yours hands from any stray stains of your spit or kissing your irritated skin so it might feel a little better after such thoughtless kneading beneath teeth, but she will not think to chastise you for this.

Cope as you wish, so long as it allows you to feel better in the end.

It also helps that you are too cute to chastise when you bite at yourself like this.

Biting Her: She bites down her grin, excitement and pleasure bubbling as she all but fawns over the light grasp of your teeth.

Yes, she cannot help how this excites her. To be caught in the grip of those teeth usually made so pretty with blood, knowing that no true harm will come to her when she so clearly lays claim to your heart . . . Her excitement is one rooted in her sudden awareness towards how lovely a beast you can be, yet you willingly—perhaps unconsciously—tame yourself to bite her only in a manner so indulgently harmless.

There is something quite attractive in knowing that, hypothetically, at any moment, your ambition, your craving, or your cruel desires could tear through the skin and steal her blood for your own sole gain. Yet you do not.

All you seek instead . . . is comfort. How cute a sentiment.

It makes her love you all the more.

"Please", she'd drawl through smirking lips, "I know you can bite harder than that."

Perhaps the challenge is genuine. An invitation to let yourself loose with her, free from fear of hurting her. Or perhaps it is little more than a harmless tease, a joke more so for herself than for you.

However she means it, you are never left to question the fact that she is ultimately pleased to be held and used by your teeth.

Niccolò

Biting Themself: He cannot help but be humored by the sight of your bites and nibbles. You resemble more a small critter of the forest, wild and free, than an imprisoned and blood-drawn Gifted whenever he catches you in this act.

"You must taste so sweet," he hums with a smile as he studies the faint trails of marks left upon your hand, barely perceptible to the natural eye, "I wish I could have a taste of my own as well."

At odd hours of the day, he reminisces upon this habit of yours. Theorizes on whether it is another clue towards the secret of your blood, the veiled and suppressed essence of your gift's purpose.

He imagines what it must be like to have a tongue that tastes, to have teeth that in some sense or another feel, and how it might be if he were the one to bite gently at you as you do to yourself.

He adores it, of course, for it is another curiosity for him to examine, unfold, and, ultimately, love as another eccentricity of yours.

Biting Him: “Does it not hurt?”

It is not a question asked with concern or reprimand. His tone is light, curious, and the intense focus of his gaze upon your lips and teeth (bared to his sight now and then) speaks instead of his unquenchable fascination for you and all that you do.

He knows that he lacks the softness of a human touch. He cannot offer a hand that is anything but cold, anything but tough and false. And he marvels at how you do not mind; you do not care. Your teeth persist, almost as if they were determined to mark or draw something from him. Sometimes light and slow in their touch with mindful caution, other times firm and possessive with distracted abandon.

It delights him. Amuses him. Never will he deny the grasp and touch of your teeth. It is a curious, beloved, habit and he would never wish to deprive you of it.

Mutya

Biting Themself: "Don’t.”

The command comes out more bluntly than she would have liked. She frowns, recollects her thoughts, and tries again.

“Please . . . don’t.”

Eloquent as ever, her frown twists into something a little more bitter as she internally scolds herself. She sighs through her nose and tries yet again.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she begins with as much softness as she can force herself to muster when worry forces her to tense, “Your body is a temple, mahal. Biting at it, stressing it, hurting it without a thought . . . I’d rather we find better ways for you to reassure yourself. Healthier habits of control.”

She remembers her old habits. Rooting herself in the present with pain: self-inflicted bruises and aches meant to empty her from any and all thoughts. She had been little more than a child, as you must have been when this habit first began. And though she herself has not managed to fully erase those old reliances that promised her more long-term harm than short-term relief, she has come much farther than she once ever thought possible for herself.

As small a thing as your bites may be, she does not wish to encourage their frequency, much less your reliance on them. Especially with someone like Uriel across enemy lines, who can excite your emotions in the worst of ways, urging your methods of coping to manifest in as ugly and brutal a manner as possible . . . No, she would rather caution against the possibility of something like this ever becoming a source of true, self-inflicted harm upon yourself.

Biting Her: “Fuc—!"

Her curse is cut off by a hiss, the moment of shock quickly easing once she realizes it is only you. A grunt, perhaps a groan, rumbles into a relenting sigh as she forces herself to relax beneath the sudden hold of your teeth.

It is almost embarrassing how quickly she gives into this habit of yours. She worries now and then that it is dangerous for her to encourage it at all, knowing what an effect the mere proximity and pulse of another Gifted’s blood can have over you.

And yet, you do not seem to share her reservations or troubles. You claim it is a form of comfort, and other times that this is little more than a thoughtless urge.

When it is only her that you pose to hurt—though she knows you never would, not with intention— then who is she to deny you your nature? Worry may pinch at her brows, sighs may slip past her lips, but never will her hand push you away. She loves you for all that you are, and the strange habit of bites like those from a playful—if poorly trained—pet becomes easier to accept as time passes by.

Fyodor

Biting Themself: It is an adorable sight whenever he catches you nibbling at your own skin, leaving lovely indentations from your perfect teeth onto your perfect hands. It is all lovely because it is all you.

Perhaps he will begin to call you his little rabbit. That is what your small bites call to mind as he observes them with apt attention.

If you are his, then he will not hesitate to take your marked hands to caress, to coat them with generous kisses, hoping for their redness / impressions ache to be soothed.

Biting Him: He cannot deny you; not in this, at least.

It is a harmless habit to him. Your teeth tickle. They offer to him smiles and laughter, an expression flushed with joy and love as he feels your lips, spit, teeth, and heat caress him in pursuit of your own satisfaction.

It is cute like a puppy that teethes. It gives you comfort, and thus it gives him purpose. And if this succeeds in allowing your own skin some rest from your little bites, he is all the happier to offer himself in their place.

Though, in the presence of a busy public, he may at first fluster as your teeth pull gently and mark him lightly—without thought or intention—as an act so intimate to him is openly displayed for all to see. Deeper in a relationship, he would be incapable of paying mind to the presence of any others as his attention is solely captured by the touch of your lips and teeth against his skin.

#ro #react #c: akil #c: kamiko #c: sigmund #c: imka #c: elouan #c: jae #c: niccolo #c: mutya #c: fyodor