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bluffmotel · 3 days

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I always LOVE your character analysis', so random question!!! Would you indulge me about your thoughts on the Romeros (both paul and dante)? You can be as vague or as detailed as you want!

oh i absolutely love this question, thank you! and the timing was rather perfect, given the release of the black book, so it’s safe to say these two ( and more specifically dante ) have been haunting around the depths of my mind … and while i’m a vince & tyler fan first and foremost, i do have thoughts on everyone else and the general story! so without further ado, let’s talk about the romeros :

while as dusk falls is about two respective families ( the holts & the walkers, as we come to find out pretty quick ) i think it’s irrefutable to deny that paul and dante are tangled inside this little web themselves! they’re two figures that help bring the past and present together : paul recognizes jim, although not well, but more importantly if vince allows his father to leave for the hospital, he makes a rather pointed comment about not letting dante see or recognize him. jim also seems rather interested when asking our protagonist, “so you met the sheriff? what’s he like?” before doubling down rather hard on not trusting the law, and this opinion of dante is so intense that ( depending on dialogue choices ) if vince sides with the holts over dante, jim can potentially agree with his choice, in a way he won’t with dante. and given paul’s entanglement with sharon for decades and his bond with bear? these two are in the frying pan right there alongside our leading families! it’s rather easy to dismiss their importance, i think, but give the two enough thought and them being there while the desert dream goes down, as passive and aggressive forces respectively, really feels fated. of course it’s dante the holt boys stole from, and of course it’s paul’s place of work the walkers stumble upon, and of course it all comes to a head and leaves us with one of our final choices in book one : which of these devils are you trusting? dante or the holts? i like to imagine this echoes whatever went down all those years ago with jim, or at least serves as a continuation of whatever he refused to finish.

but that’s getting a little more into general game territory & it’s themes, so back to my thoughts on the romeros specifically, which can be summed up as … i love them! dante in particular grew on me a lot throughout the constant replays, even though i always adored his character! and paul was fantastic in his background role, casually revealing the more heavy hand he had in things ( which you don’t expect! ) with throwaway lines and oddly loaded advice. paul’s a good man, and if it’s not obvious by how protective joyce is of him, then it’s proven tenfold when he either tends to an injured vince at the very end of book one, or tries giving cpr to his dead body if tyler drowns him. like?? what a sweetheart! there’s nothing to hate about paul, but he’s a great example of a character who’s more than what he seems without taking away from the main narrative, another role joyce serves right along with him. these two did their thing as ‘random’ people in the desert dream and the devs took great care to lay out some good groundwork for them in spite of their non importance. and, in general, they act as good voices for vince to consider when it comes to the final choice! joyce trusts dante, talks about him with respect and all of her slightly biting remarks are full of affection ( sentiments that mean a lot coming from her, someone who’s shown herself to be stubborn and no nonsense ), but on the other side, paul warns vince against dante, lamenting on their family’s low opinions of him and his position as sheriff ( an important opinion because paul is dante’s family ), and so on so forth. paul and joyce balance each other well, and i always make sure paul gets his pizza. he has low blood sugar, dale! give him some food, god damn it!

and to talk more about dante, he’s an excellent character in a gaming world full of pathetic villains or straight up irredeemable monsters. the ceo of interior night has been very vocal about making sure nobody in as dusk falls felt like anything less than a human being, and dante ( as well as bear, i’d say ) proves she mostly succeeded … in the case of book one, anyway. it’s very easy to villainze him in the moment and even away from the game if you only give him a passing glance : he’s ruthless, he threatens vince, someone who could’ve been nothing but obedient this whole time, and his abuse of his badge is supposed to be as revolting as it feels. but! he perfectly encapsulates one of the main themes in this game, which is that he doesn’t want to do this, but he feels like he has to. dante is looking at what is clearly multiple crossroads and just like the holts he only sees one path forward, which just happens to be the most violent one. it’s the path where he survives and he is safe, unscathed, and he can return to what his normal is. i’ve been meaning to make a big web weave about adf and this theme in particular but to perfectly sum it up, here’s a quote that feels like it was almost made for this game :

hansel, by richard siken.

like! this is what adf is about! dante may be one of the more awful parties, yes, but he is still just a man who truly believes in his little black heart that this route is what’s best for him -- and so he’s gotta take it. it’s rather easy to not notice his humanity in the midst of this high stakes situation ( and because his counterpart is paul, of all people ), but it is there, and this is exactly why i enjoy seeing him on my screen and would love to do more with him himself someday! dante, in particular, cares about the holts … and i mean the holt boys, not just sharon. despite his spiraling mental state and the time limit he’s under, the sheriff exercises a rather immense amount of patience when it comes to the holts, like, it’s rather obvious he didn’t want them coming to harm in the way that they did. when dale comes out for the iconic sniper scene, dante attempts bargaining with him after his initial instinct to annoy and pry -- and it’s clear that he wants dale to just hand him the book, and he wants dale to surrender and give dante what he needs so everyone can make it out alive, at least. in his moment of blind need, he fails to actually notice that dale’s confusion and fear is genuine, mistakes it as dale’s usual playing around, and goes “have it your way,” before signaling his sniper. he could’ve just shot dale the second he stepped out of the door, and then looted his corpse for the book, or whatever else. but no. he takes the slightly longer way, for as long as he can, and since dante believes himself to be above the law, who is he holding back for? it’s for the holt boys, kids he probably saw grow up! and it’s for sharon. and it’s for joyce, and paul, and maybe even vince and his family, at first. dante becomes colder as the night drones on but given his immense power trip, it’s clear he had no real qualms ending things with police brutality, even at the beginning. makes his attempts at trying to end things peacefully at the start of book one a lot more interesting, in my opinion, because we quickly find out this was dante’s way of showing everyone mercy. which is scary! but again, showcases he’s more than some villain.

and his face after killing dale, if you choose not to save him, also doesn’t scream that this is someone who’s particularly enjoying this. the expressions made between the shot firing and dante looking at the kid’s body bag corpse is … grim.

like, this is not a victorious look at all! the way he just watches as dale’s body is picked up and taken away, expression never changing … he probably feels numb, this sense of : i did what i had to. but he doesn’t like it, and maybe it’d be easier if he did, and maybe he wants it that way too, you know?

i also find this scenario particularly tragic because i believe dale was probably dante’s token favorite out of the holt boys, at least before their falling out. it’s just bizarre to me the amount of hatred dale holds for him in a rather pointed manner -- it just feels personal, and it wouldn’t be personal if dale never cared for two rock’s biggest pig to begin with. how i think the juvie thing went down, in simple terms, is this : dante, who was still a close friend of sharon’s at the time and enjoyed visiting & hanging around the house here and there, someone who saw the first two holt boys through their infancy with paul, got a call about dale ( who had pushed past his usual amateur crimes to commit literal assault ), and had no choice but to actually act this time. he had probably let dale off the hook beforehand, covered up his petty theft and underage drinking and what have you, and this fostered some unhealthy opinions about dante and his generosity, so when dale landed himself in genuine hot water, hot water that even the sheriff himself couldn’t cool down, he couldn’t do anything except give him juvie. WHICH! i like to believe dale committed this crime as an eighteen year old, which could’ve landed him in jail i’m sure since his actions were so severe. so dante didn’t leave dale hanging, technically, but him not letting him off with a slap on the wrist like the holts expected ( like dale thought he would ) fostered a hatred and finally cut dante & sharon apart for good. dale’s loathed dante ever since for his betrayal and dante responds with equal amounts of vitriol back. but his fondness and favoritism remains and shows itself in tiny ways even still, like his almost palpable disappointment that dale came out of that motel instead of tyler, for example. he was like damn, i was prepared to shoot tyler, not dale … :( and i think this is so fucking funny!

( i will say that after reading the black book, none of the above paragraph is canon anymore technically. but i don’t really care at this point because what they did do with dante and dale’s assault was so baffling and borderline stupid! so, like i said when i first got it, i’m viewing the book with the same mindset one would consider a writer’s tweets of ‘canon’ facts about their favorite book on twitter … meaning i can just pick and choose what i like and dislike. there is nothing in game that contradicts the above headcanon, so it’s still canon compliant to me -- anyway! just had to add that little note, just in case )

and this goes straight into headcanon territory, but personally? dante’s the one who got dale a tombstone made, the one we see at the very end of book two. it’s certainly not bear who got it made, someone thousands of dollars in debt and someone who could also be dead at this point … and everyone else either straight up wouldn’t waste their money on such a thing ( like joyce ), or just wasn’t there long enough to make such a memorial. it’s small and it’s ballsy given the holts and their awful reputation, but it’s still something. i’ve always wanted to write a fic about this -- dante going through the process of burying dale and getting him a nice plot of land as well as an actual tombstone … i wouldn’t be shocked if he thought of it as an apology for how things went, in the end. i cannot for the life of me think of anyone else who’d have the money and the desire to give dale, and potentially bear and tyler, a tombstone in their memory. maybe he thought it’d absolve him of any wrongdoing or lingering guilt he felt? maybe he thought it was enough, when in fact giving these people a proper burial was the least he could do. it’s a fun thought of mine that makes me quite sad regardless!

okay buckle up because we’re still talking about dante and the holts kinda, however! dante strikes me as someone who really, really wanted kids, but becky was probably unable to have them for some reason ; be it because of her accident, her being infertile, or what have you. i think he always dreamed of being a father and never fully was allowed that experience! which shows in how he interacts with zoe and ash, where there’s an overt awkwardness but also this sense of eagerness, a little display of tender heart and real worry. for example, he never once threatens zoe’s life! he may endanger her if she stays in the motel, and he has no qualms trying to kill her dad, yes, but not once does he use her as leverage against vince -- despite the fact that said kid could be firmly in his grasp, if she’s the one released! and i’ll have to post the scene when i replay, but if vince tells dante about zoe while in the back office and then takes her out as the hostage, dante bends down and talks to her and is stupidly sweet about the whole thing! so it might seem ironic for him to have a line, but he does, and it’s kids … another example is that when joyce calls him about ash being missing, he sends every available officer out there to search for ash, and when he finds him, he’s nothing but cautious and gentle and worried. it’s almost odd to see from him! when he quickly sheds his cool composer to show the intense rage underneath in most situations we see him in! but he does care deeply for kids and i like that his life’s punishment is him not being able to have them, be it because of them not actually being his own or circumstances making him not being able to raise any he might have. for someone as ambitious as dante i find it sooo endearing that he just, kinda wants children the most? adds to him i think, and it’s something that somberly reminds you that even the most evil seeming people could have the most mundane desires. seriously, there’s such an empty vibe to the big romero house with a wife who hardly leaves her room and some dog in the spacious backyard … ( and spoilers for the black book : but seeing how much dante wanted a dog and a big house really gives you ‘white picket fence’ american dream! with the missing component being the, y’know, kids, and said missing componet carves out this hollow feeling the entire time you dwell on it )

and this want makes me think he was probably around for the holt boys’ upbringings! i mean, not to be crude, but he was banging their mom and seemed to genuinely have loved her at one point in time, so i can only imagine he’d hang around the house here and there. same as paul, i’m sure! and maybe some part of him enjoyed doting on the boys without actively having to be their pa, allowed to just do the fun things most wannabe parents dream of doing rather than the actual hard work and responsibility, and maybe this once there bond contributes to his reluctance to kill the holts immediately. idk! i could see him being around for tyler and dale’s childhood, only to slwply begin fading when jay was brought into the picture -- and then he didn’t help dale out when it counted, and all the bridges between him and the holts were swiftly burned with that. he definitely talks about tyler and dale like he knows them well, which isn’t as weird for dale ( who has a reputation ) but for tyler? someone who notoriously fades into the background and keeps his head down? it implies a bond, i think, where he knew them young and even after him and sharon fell through he decided to keep tabs on them. would scope out where tyler was doing his odd jobs and had officers keep an eye on dale, etc. he’d keep trying to wash his hands of the holts but he never truly puts them behind him, which can be said for everyone else in the game, honestly! they’re like an infection ( something jay even describes them as! ) to where even if you think you’ve cleaned everything off, there’s always one spot you miss, and then the growth process begins again. anyway! he is unhinged for this by the way. man said : two kids without a stable pa figure? sign me up! and then he’d go on to potentially kill one of them on purpose after antagonizing them like he’s a teenager, which he has the nerve to act sad about in the aftermath. insane!!

( also quick timeline here, that i keep in mind whenever i talk or think about the romeros : so sharon and paul definitely knew each other first, but given paul’s energy towards sharon in the desert dream and obliviousness to her and dante’s affair, i don’t think they stayed close -- not after paul married, anyway. paul probably still came around, given his bond with both sharon & bear, but while dante was probably there a lot for the them as kids, i could see paul becoming a more strong figure when they were teenagers and young adults. their behavior towards paul in the desert dream is … strange! though if i had to guess, i’d say they just didn’t want to act like they knew him as well as they did, in order to protect him from any potential danger as well as themselves. wouldn’t want the other hostages to realize they wouldn’t kill paul, you know? it’d be a weakness, which is something the holt boys try very hard to hide in the desert dream situation )

though to focus back on paul a tad, i’m always obligated to talk about him and bear! like, i love paul and bear, so so much, and they’ve grown on me tremendously once i realized they went into vietnam together as soldiers. there’s something delicious about their predicament, where paul is forced into navigating a war with someone he’s jealous of, and someone who he believes to be a pretty shitty guy. and not only did they go in together, they came out together too … went through the flames and trauma and horror as one of those rare duos that actually got to go back home, with all their limbs attached and all! it’d certainly change paul’s views on bear i think, to have seen him in action like that, and to foster what would’ve been a profound understanding, what with their bond being forged in intense warfare and all. his bond with bear is something i wish the game commented on more ( besides an offhand remark ) but oh, it’s quickly become one of my favorite things. bear is so incapable of making friends, and here’s the only one he probably has, someone so unlike him in personality and also someone who wants his wife carnally! like, jesus, the holts can never catch a break, they’re always involved in the most complicated relationships known to man as the town’s locally cursed family and as the town’s most wanted, i guess! but yeah, paul and bear <3 i view paul actually being closer with bear when they come back, electing to spend more time with him over sharon, since it’s easier and safer for him and his marriage … until that crashes anyway. and then paul decided to go sober, which is probably what destroyed their hangouts, leading to paul’s odd holtless time! would probably see the boys around town, as well as sharon and bear, but might just greet them and ask how things are ( typical small town stuff ) rather than actively making an effort to hang. that kinda thing. like he’s still present in their lives, and i think all the holts respect paul a lot more than words can say, and in their own warped ways, but he was. distant. before things went awry.

also totally unrelated to the romeros, but it’s crazy that tyler is born during the last round of american drafts for vietnam, aka 1973. just find it fascinating that bear would’ve either a.) had to have already served his time, b.) hasn’t been drafted just yet, or c.) came back after one term only to leave again for a second one. i can’t remember which one i personally went with, but it’s fun to think about regardless! that, and the fact there’s no mention of dante serving in the war … which i don’t think he did, personally, and given his extreme macho energy, that’s an absolutely fascinating aspect of his character. but i digress!

hm, some other quick thoughts on the romeros include smaller scale things! like how i usually view the rest of the romero family to be more like paul, more meek and silent, almost an entire herd of pushovers. we know the family shares paul’s point of view where it concerns dante’s title as sheriff -- and while this does paint an unsavory image of dante, i can see another picture that implies dante as the romero family’s black sheep. someone always looked at oddly and gossiped about, disapproval aimed at everything dante does because he’s dante, someone unlike the others. the rest of their blood probably doesn’t bother with him at all outside of paul, a family member dante orbits despite his jabs and vocal distaste towards paul’s peaceful nature. i mean, they share friends, a friend list which is only comprised of the holts and joyce, dante’s officers notwithstanding. two rock is a rather small world ( or, at least, it was supposed to seem that way ) but i still find it telling how tangled up in each other’s lives they are! they even liked the same girl, how crazy is that? and dante also makes a passing comment about how paul shouldn’t lock himself away ‘like grandma did’, and he says this remark with disdain … again! i can’t quite back this up with hard canon evidence, but the other romeros ( & hayes’, paul’s actual last name ) have that sort of meek vibe. this black sheep position dante fills also serves to give him and dale more ground as a narrative pair! which, if it wasn’t obvious from the tyler/vince and jay/zoe pairings in the story, this game loves it’s foils and parallels! another minor thought is that paul gives massive queer energy in ways indescribable but i’ll never forget how he can be like ‘maybe it’s mine and i wear it!’ about sharon’s bra if dante finds it in his trailer, and then can hold it up to his chest if i remember correctly?? the fact his extemely masculine cousin doesn’t even bat an eye at this only makes it more queer! he was like yes that tracks, you would wear a bra /derogatory ,,, i just rotate that scene in my mind a little bit, i will not lie.

my very quick final thought is that jim totally helped dante kill sheriff clayson, an action that would then finally put dante in power. which the black book confirms, because dante did in fact kill that guy! just not with jim, but oh well. jim was there and he helped and he hates dante for it now, trust. what they actually did with jim & dante was boring so this is still canon in my head!

ahh, i think this about sums my thoughts on them up? i probably have more lurking around in my mind and, like always, a lot of these points could suffice as posts on their own with more detail, but! it was fun to pour my general thoughts out there, so thanks so much for that opportunity! hopefully this was coherent and made sense lmfao <3 i’m tickled you love my character analysis for this niche ass game!!

#as dusk falls #answered asks.#THANK YOU FOR THIS … have a wordy ass ramble in response lmfao #i try to be cohesive with these but i wanted to lay down all i could so it’s a bit jumbled and incoherent #but … yeah … i love them … i think they are so fascinating #tbh there is not a single mf that i hate in book one i love ALL these people. this cast of characters is PERFECT #which is rare in games i think. i usually have to make myself like everybody but with book one’s main cast it comes naturally #even the more hateable characters like bear and michelle are SO stupidly well written #and you can’t remove one of the book one characters without changing literally every thing. which i also like!!!#like you can tell the devs REALLY cared about this specific group and formed the story around them and i loooove it #( this is energy they lacked in book two which is why it’s so weird tbh! but i digress let me not be a hater #and yes i hated on the black book in this my bad <3 i just didnt Like It Much even if it was a fun read #anyway anyway! ahem! )#i am shaking dante and paul around like items in a tin can tbh #also dante being like AND YOU CHOSE THEM? OVER ME??? to vince if you don’t side with him is HILARIOUS BTWW #everyone wants vince carnally in adf and dante is not exempt from this. he’s just less insane about it than tyler <3 #dante & vince are pure comedic potential all of their scenes make me laugh. i couldn’t put this in the post so surprise! find it in the tag #i didn’t talk about paul NEARLY as much as i wanted to or should’ve here but i love all his scenes!!!#and despite how jarring it is i don’t mind his moment in book two! i actually quite enjoy it. easily one of my fave moments #y’know. because we focused on someone other than jay for three seconds ADJAKDKAKSA sorry. let me reign in the hater #paul is my king he is my everything he has done nothing wrong in his life #and his friendship with joyce is EVERYTHING TO ME i love how they’re written so fucking bad #it says a lot that when my niece played adf she thought they were married. like they’re THAT close fr fr and it’s refreshing to see #they just mesh perfectly and i love their bonds with vince and michelle and jim!!’#i also ADORE him using his medical knowledge from the war to help vince if michelle is shot … such good defining character traits #as well as his compassion!!! compassion is a big theme in adf too in the sense that it doesn’t make someone weak and paul shows this well #anyway i almost don’t wanna shut up because i love them so bad but. i think i’ll hush for now #tldr : the romeros are well written characters ( even BECKY! ) and they’re a big part of the walkers & holts bullshit #like in a romero and juliet story they are both as important as friar lawrence yknow. that’s the vibe.#thanks sm again and random questions are always welcomed here!! so have an amazing day <3

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unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year

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like hearing an autistic person talking abt realizing like "oh so friendships for some ppl don't involve always having to maintain a performance" and going damn right yeah and now "oh so friendships for some ppl involve their getting to expect that the other ppl will be interested in them and provide support" like huh go figure. more surprising like oh right i guess i always felt like interactions require maintaining a performance that can only go wrong (generally true; like there's no "well you're ruining things by keeping ppl from being the Real You so just Be Yourself" like a] masking isn't Real or done by Yourself or b] like if you unmask people like you now & ableism is over, b/c it was your fault for reacting to it in the first place) & thus also that i should be interested & provide support but not expect that in turn / the sense as well that you are/can only come up short and have things to make up for anyways while lucky whoever's even providing the time of day

then it's always an Exercise to go "oh right well beyond going [my god autistic character] the whole time, what Things re: winston billions was i still not quite seeing as as unusual / Not Good as they are. even for billions" like sure noticing he's holding on to the hopes of some kind of positive / actual relationship w/rian for like year 950 & this manifesting with the Determined Friendliness but zooming in like oh i guess that adamant amicability sure involves winston suppressing a negative reaction to negative treatment and yet still hoping for an improvement, which like, was always Possible but a) hinged on rian simply choosing to change how she regards/treats him (or someone intervening to change the situation) & b) apparently is not going to happen. thinking like yeah that's very Friendly of him. and knowing like man winston's sure still trying to keep this friendliness offer open for like two years. but also now more specifically going like Yeah and pretty fucked then that his baseline expectations don't include that Mutual Interest & Support (though someone being abusive is definitely interested just not in any good ways. and certainly not (actually) supportive)

#and then in immediate retrospect it's like I Mean I Knew It & even now to be saying it feels like i've effectively already said it #just more precise/specific Language available. & where even if it's like [restating this one idea] that's gonna say smthing new / a bit dif #winston billions #from the [immediately going HM HUH first time seeing his clips but taking months to be like He's Autistic(tm) Btw IMO] to now struggling to #say another Ay Word in discussing [he has a devoted workplace bully] as Abuse(tm) when plenty of what's abusive is considered ''normal'' or #correct or even Ideal while defining Abuse as xtreme outliers due to evil intentions & extraordinary situations (that you should avoid)#it's power structures & efforts to control & use/refuse people as things....plenty of ppl who can feel they're just acting Normal & Natural #while other ppl in entire groups Do have to perform which can only go wrong & be hurt / get that everyday trauma from their Normalcy.#those allistic social skills huh (again tldr invoking this concept just Is ableism....)#after a casual twenty plus years w/the gradual convergence of [figuring out i'm autistic] & [not blaming myself for being mistreated b/c #i'm autistic] does put a damper on expectations re: all interactions but it's like the way someone put it the other day #who hasn't said anything abt being autistic but that they don't think anyone's guaranteed any kinds of relationships/companionship incl #friendships (which i agree with; & it's not at all uncommon for ppl to be hard up for those out here. despite ppl treating socializing like #a meritocracy like hmm anyone doesn't have friends? sounds like that's on you not getting good / deserving that) & so he consciously #navigates how to like be genuinely satisfied w/a life that's just got him in it while being open to other ppl. thinking of how i've heard #abt Just That re: autistic ppl (but framed specifically re: dating; like might want a romantic relationship but ofc no one's guaranteed one #of those either (even if this too is definitely treated like in fact you Are guaranteed one & it is Again a meritocracy) And ofc there's #more barriers/hurdles for autistic ppl) & just going like yeah i've sure been always navigating that too while being open to ppl sure but #not feeling like i need that to change & sure asf not focusing on Putting Myself Out There lmao. i put myself out there by existing & by #saying things & by trying not to try to preemptively appease/appeal to anyone. seeing another quote today abt how they're nonverbal & this #results in being regarded as hostile like eugh been there enough; classic [putting myself out there] dramedy of terrors from back in the #day as a teen living on college figuratively sprinting around trying to figure it out; both the Autistacity & Abuse lol. & racking up more #of the latter for the former while i'm at it....nowadays like. certainly recent successes in [spontaneous alignments of being friends] had #to start w/like weeks into months of i'm not expecting someone else to have interest & in fact Am expecting; if nothing else; them to #realize w/e interest motivates them to talk w/me to be mistaken or w/e. as i'm struggling not to mask / beating back efforts to actively #appeal to anyone. being duly surprised when after months they still feel like talking to me. & even then just kind of entering another #phase of ''well but still'' lol like when interactions have largely felt like Buying Time at best #def on the same page as that guy like even [have friends] is not a Need. when i could go ''time to recharge socially'' & make it happen #what i like to do is go be in public '''''by myself'''' around ppl. truly the good shit. doing that kind of shit w/ppl has = nth wheeling.#now insert a short essay spinning off all this abt an approach to Language parallel to [concepts re Socializing] as tag thirty

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anakinh · 1 year

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got forcibly thrown back into dragon age and now i keep thinking about it. there were three (3) people who could’ve told alistair about his mom and two of them are dead and the one who’s left doesn’t want to tell him and like. from a character perspective, i do get why. but alistair is living his life and there’s a whole entire half of his identity that he doesn’t know about and isn’t connected to. do you think he’ll ever know that in canon? probably not, given bioware.

#me.txt #this is why i look for fanfic... there's not a lot of that in fanfic either #the elf-blooded lore SUCKS. they look just like humans? fuck you #they can't see the roads in eluvians? extra fuck you. i would've been okay with looking like humans if they could at least have that #the colours. whatever #speaking of getting forcibly thrown back into dragon age i mentioned wanting to watch the new netflix show and the person i was talking to #said 'oh i can't believe they brought [redacted] back'#and girls i yelled on the subway #hawke gets so much disrespect #i have so many alistair headcanons omg. he's so blorbo.#tldr I WANT HALF ELF ALISTAIR CONTENT #also a whole bunch of other stuff but this especially #i've also really wanted to read fics where alistair is raised as a prince but it does kinda change his entire character if you do that...#i have one (1) fic that mentions both. holy grail fic.

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chaotic-history · 1 year

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I will die on this hill

#cause the whole thing in Candide is he's arguing against Leibnitz who's saying it's the best of all possible worlds and that everything #that happens happens for an eventually good reason #and Voltaire's not just arguing that everything is terrible; for all that he's smarter than Pangloss Martin is still wrong about Cacambo #coming back.#and Martin's idea was that there's a Good god and a Bad god that control everything #but Candide (book not character) shows that things like the Lisbon earthquake or good men drowning simply don't have a reason; good or bad #things happen essentially randomly and there's no order to it #*but*#(and this is moving away from the absurdism point but I want to talk about it)#despite all the random uncontrollable things Candide faces there's also much that's manmade #and I've seen some interpretations of the book that seem to thing the ending is saying to just escape from the world and don't bother #with trying to change it but I don't think that's the point because first of all obviously Voltaire didn't think it was useless to try and #change things or he wouldn't have written the fucking book; and also Martin and Pangloss share the similarity of believing that #any attempt to better the world is pointless because Pangloss thinks it couldn't get any better and Martin. well. also thinks that but in a #negative way #and the way I see it the book is as much a critique of fatalism as it is of Leibnitz's optimism #and really those are one and the same; if this is the best world it means nothing can ever improve and we're stuck in this pile of shit #tldr; shit happens for no reason; ya can't fix it but at least you could make it a bit better for the people around you; and you might as #well enjoy some pistachios while you're doing it #guys i promise i do know how to write actual literary analysis and someday i'll post it #but it's easier to just rant in the tags for 5 minutes #also jacques and the old woman both fundamentally changed the story through being willing to help candide + pangloss/cunégonde

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thschei · 4 months

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youtube

Just like that, ah Wait for me From now on, ah I'll come pick you up More than anyone else, you're my heaven Definitely, every time... This love story is getting tiring Spinning without making any progress A racing game to catch you A burning love story Don't stop, it's not over yet You're the energy that fills me up If I wanna, I can run away, without a trace Break down the wall and just overcome it Just keep moving and moving forward A resounding roar Like I'm trying to steal your body I'll hold on and won't let go I'll make it right now

#erin talks #video #erin's music rec tag #I didn't know the jpn ver got a music video . wonder what was going on in my life in sep 2019 that made me miss it #this is great news for me bc I hate the krn mv (I don't like cyber concepts... I think the sketchy grey warehouse suits the song way better #uh I decided to cut out the lyric that includes the song title bc I don't want to be crucified for having negative thunks <3 #but the jpn and krn lyrics are more or less the same #but the krn translation widely used translates part of the chorus as 'rat race' & I just feel like that phrase belongs in 2007 yknow #a cursory google search shows the literal translation for the word 쳇바퀴 is treadmill but . I still like the jpn chorus opting for #translating 돌 듯 제자리 to 進みもしないで and then changing 쳇바퀴 to spin in eng #hello can anyone hear me #TLDR I'm not familiar enough with krn to confidently find a substitution for 쳇바퀴 without altering the meaning too much #you see the 3 letter title? just pretend each stanza ends with that repeated twice

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birdantlers · 9 months

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A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

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cherryredcheol · 2 months

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partner privilege

tldr: just use face i.d.? tf? a/n: i am...delusional

“hyung?”

seungcheol didn’t look up, he typed in the password to his phone, immediately opening his messages to you, “yes, dino?”

when dino hesitated, seungcheol finally looked up. dino looked a little flustered and when seungcheol looked past his maknae’s shoulder, he saw jeonghan and joshua giggling on the other side of the practice room, trying (and failing) to be subtle about watching him and dino.

immediately sensing he was being set up, he asked again, “yes, dino?”

dino couldn’t even look seungcheol in the eye. instead he kept his eyes trained on the ground and asked, “why is it that you always type in the password on your phone? why not use face i.d.?”

seungcheol’s face instantly warmed. his eyes cut across the room to jeonghan and joshua just in time to watch them fall into a puddle of laughter. ignoring dino, he called out to them, “you guys suck!”

and with that seungcheol left. eager to see you now that practice had ended early. he was going to offer to give jeonghan a ride home on his way over to yours, but not after the shit he just pulled.

“cheollie, would you please pass me your phone? i want to change the song.”

seungcheol walked around to the other side of the kitchen island, handing it to you easily, “here, baby.”

you grabbed the phone with your spare hand, the other still stirring your dinner on the stovetop.

seungcheol bumped your hip ever so lightly, grabbing the spoon from your hand. “find the song, baby. i’ll stir.”

you smiled at him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. you held the phone up to your face, pressing the lock button, illuminating the screen. the phone, sensing your face, immediately unlocked, no password required.

after a few seconds of searching through his music app, you’d finally found the song that had been stuck in your head at work all day, the soft melody coming gently out of the speaker on your counter.

you returned to the stove, peering into the pot. bringing a hand to rest on his back, you gently pushed him from the stove. “i’ll finish up here, cheollie. grab some bowls, will you? and if you want rice, put some instant in the microwave. i forgot to make any earlier.”

he smiled, gummy and broad, relinquishing the spoon to your capable hands. “sure thing, baby. anything for you.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol imagine #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seventeen drabbles

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lincolndjarin · 6 months

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Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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cy-cyborg · 10 months

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What able bodied authors think I, an amputee and a wheelchair user, would want in a scifi setting:

Tech that can regenerate my old meat legs.

Robot legs that work just like meat legs and are functionally just meat legs but robot

Literally anything that would mean I don't have to use a wheelchair.

If I do need to use a wheelchair, make it fly or able to "walk me" upstairs

What I actually want:

Prosthetic covers that can change colour because I'm too indecisive to pick one colour/pattern for the next 5+ years.

A leg that I can turn off (seriously, my above knee prosthetic has no off switch... just... why?)

A leg that won't have to get refitted every time I gain or loose weight.

A wheelchair that I can teleport to me and legs I can teleport away when I'm too tired to keep walking. And vice versa.

In that same vein, legs I can teleport on instead of having to fiddle around with the sockets for half an hour.

Prosthetic feet that don't require me to wear shoes. F*ck shoes.

Actually accessible architecture, which means when I do want to use my wheelchair, it's not an issue.

Prosthetic legs with dragon-claw feet instead of boring human feet or just digigrade prosthetics that are just as functional as normal human-shaped ones.

A manual wheelchair with the option to lift my seat up like those scissor-lift things so I'm not eye-level with everyone's butt on public transport/so I can reach the top shelf by myself.

A prosthetic foot that lights up when it hits the ground like those children's shoes.

A few additions I remember seeing in the comments on my old account:

holographic prosthetic covers

transformers-style mobility aids that can fold into the shapes of different aids (e.g. a wheelchair that can fold into a cane)

prosthetic covers with pockets/hidden compartments (kind of surprised this isn't a thing already).

find my leg (like find my iphone, but for your legs when you haven't worn them in a while lol)

TLDR: Stop assuming every disabled person would want to be as close to "normal" as possible in your works. Some absolutely would and having options for them if fine, but I rarely see any examples of media showing those of us who don't. start letting amputees in your scifi works have fun with our prosthetics, fix the problems real amputees are already talking about instead of what you think are the issues and make your settings as a whole accessible!

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sykostyles · 4 months

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let you love me 1.0

wc: 3.3k summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine!harry x grumpy! afab reader part two, three, extra

a/n: firstly, I need to thank @freedomfireflies for being so kind, and accepting, and encouraging.. and so many other wonderful adjectives.. but seriously, thank you for giving me the courage to just take the plunge and write the damn thing. anddd for being my beta reader!! getting mother fireflies' stamp of approval has to mean its worthy for everyone else to see.. right? welcome to my first story! please do tell if you enjoyed! (there will be more to this, I'm working on it now <3)

cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!

You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. You weren’t sure why you thought this time would be any different. Because he was somebody? Because he had a title? Or was it because he showed a genuine interest in you? Was it because he made the effort unlike most of your previous partners? You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of? This time, it hurt. A lot.

You curse yourself as you walk hastily back to get back to your car at the far end of the parking lot. Jackson had a lot of nerve asking you to bring him his practice bag all the way from your apartment, to then basically dump you in the stadium corridor. As you’re rounding the final corner to finally escape the thickening air in the stadium, you’re completely lost in your thoughts, thinking back to the conversation you had just left behind..

“Hey, baby, thanks for bringing that. Coach was about to have my ass again.” Jackson breathes out as he sees you round the corner near the locker rooms. He takes the bag from your grasp, and places his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you into his front. Your hands instinctively reach for the nape of his neck; nimble fingers tangle in his wet hair at the base.

“Oh, but of course! Who would I be to not close up my shop early, again. Run all the way home to get your bag, again. Run all the way here just to step in and save the day for my big, strong man? Again.” You giggle, leaning up for a kiss.

That’s how it’s always been. Y/N is as sarcastic and as teasing as they come. She explains it as “playful bullying” and swears she doesn’t mean anything by it. She has genuine feelings in there somewhere, but she thinks nobody but her needs to know that. She just chooses to portray her affection in rather questionable ways.. In speaking terms, if she’s not being “mean” to you, she doesn’t like you. But she’s tried so hard to get better at it. She swears.

“Do you really have to do that now?” Jackson asks, tilting his head out of the way, dodging your kiss. You look up at him with shocked eyes.

“Do what? Save your ass? As you so graciously put it.” You say, rolling your eyes, attempting to kiss your boyfriend for a second time.

“No, Y/N, that.” He says, trying to pull from your grasp, rejecting you yet again.

“Jackson, I’m not following. Use your words.” you say, turning his head to force him to keep eye contact.

He wasn’t running from this when you spent forty minutes of your evening bringing him his bag for the umpteenth time in your relationship. Not to mention the possible business you're missing out on by closing early. Again.

“Oh my god, you’re still doing it! You’re talking to me like I’m stupid.” he says, stepping back again, attempting to free himself from your hold.

You stand there, stunned.

“He really is like all the others..” flashes in your mind.

“In what world is me teasing you about bringing you your practice bag, again, insinuating that you’re stupid?” You ask, reaching up to cup his face. “Forgetful? Maybe.” Your thumb making its way across the apple of his cheek

“See, you can't even make one single statement without attacking my character, even when you’re trying to explain yourself.”

“I’m not trying to explain myself, Jackson, I’m trying to understand what you’re talking about. And I’m not attacking your character, Jacky, I’m just teasing you. You know that.”

“You’re always like this. I can’t deal with this right now.” He says, grabbing your wrist, pulling your touch from his face.

“Can’t deal with what? Jackson, I haven’t done anything. Are you having a bad day or something? You were fine this morn– ” You start to say, tugging your wrist from his grasp.

“Just– Go home. I can’t deal with you right now, okay? I have a practice to get to.” He says, turning to walk into the locker room, but is stopped dead in his tracks..

“Jackson Wyatt Cole, you are not just going to walk away from this right now! You can’t just spout this nonsense and then turn into a child when asked to explain yourself. Now, either explain yourself or find someone else to bring you your bag the next time you forget it.” You seethe.

His head ticks to the side before he slowly turns to face you. Seeing the face you’d grown to love over the last nearly two years shouldn’t scare you, but in this moment you did not recognize him.

“You have got to be the definition of ungrateful.” Oh, he wants to do this now?

“For the greater part of two years I have given you everything and you still think you can talk to me like that?” Jackson starts to raise his voice, noticing the growing audience in the locker room hallway, and the curious gazes from all directions. Please don’t do this now..

“You’re always so mean to me. You know that?” I swear I don’t mean to be..

“You make me question every choice I make.” I’m just an overthinker, I don’t mean anything by it..

“Even the other girlfriends and wives ask how I deal with your attitude." Okay, ouch.

“You don’t think before you speak, it makes you look so rude.” That one’s true.. I’m trying, I promise..

“You’re so unbelievably condescending when someone tries to make friends with you.” I’m sorry.. I swear I don't mean anything by it..

“You think you’re right in every instance, including now. You could have just given me my bag, gotten a kiss and been on your way. But no, you’re here, holding me up, by being a right bitch. So, maybe I should find someone else, because all I can see right now is someone I’m not sure I want to waste my time and effort on anymore.” Okay.. wow. Um. Alright.. Lay it all out in front of your teammates, why don’t you?

You just let him sit there and berate you. Like a child.

That was it. He’d broken through that exterior. That rock solid exterior that you’d spend years building up. It all came tumbling down with just a few words from someone you thought you loved; someone you thought finally loved you. This is what it always came down to when you argued; your inability to see how great things were around you, always settling on the negative sides of things. Always responding with snarky comments, never meeting anyone elses enthusiasm, etc. Normally, you’d be able to hold your own and fight back, but he was using your insecurities and anxieties against you, with an audience nonetheless! How did harmless teasing turn into this?

“I’m.. s-sorry, Jacky.” You finally choked out, tears threatening to spill over. You wanted to stand here and keep arguing. “I’m not any of those things!” You want to yell. But deep down, you know that you are. Not by your own choice though. Through years of failed relationships and tainted family ties, you had become this person. You became this angry, pessimistic, shell of a girl who really only wanted to love, and to be loved, but you had no idea how to really do either of those things.

You never intended to turn out this way; it just happened.

And it just makes it easier in situations like this..

Right?

“Go home, Y/N. We’ll talk later.’ Jackson sighs, leaving you in the corridor.

Rounding that corner in the parking lot, you don’t even spare a glance and end up walking right into the broad chest of a man. Hands reach up and grasp your shoulders, keeping you from toppling over. Your hands shoot up, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“Woah there, love. I gotcha.” you hear.

Looking up, you’re met with the loveliest emerald eyes you’d ever seen. A smile, that should be illegal to be that bright.. And the jawline? Don’t even get me started! But, with your current state, you couldn’t have cared less in that moment what he looked like.

You slowly straightened up, dropping your grasp on his jacket.

“Sorry.” you stated, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. “You can let go now.”

“My apologies, Love.” The man says, letting his hold on your shoulders go. He studies you for a moment, glancing over the features of your face. Taking in your flushed cheeks, teary and swollen eyes, and your all but quivering bottom lip.

You roll your eyes at his use of the moniker again.

“Don’t call me that.” You mutter, glancing around, noticing the band of guys trailing behind this stranger.

He chuckles, “Well, what should I call you? M’ Harry, by the way.” He asks, reaching inside his jacket, he grabs a tissue and holds it out towards you.

“Does it matter?” You bite out, ignoring his gesture. “I’m kind of in a hurry, here. So if you don’t mind.” You say, starting to walk around him. “This is exactly what Jackson was talking about.” you think to yourself.

But you deter none, and continue your journey to your car. Once inside, the tears just flow.

Jackson was supposed to be different. He’s the one who sought you out after all.

He met you when he was picking up a cake his dad ordered for his mothers birthday.

He was smitten ever since.

Made all the efforts to make you feel special. Stopped in your bakery every single day to bring you coffee from your favorite shop down the street. Flowers were delivered constantly; especially since you mentioned that yellow tulips were your favorite.

“I don’t really date anymore.” You admitted when he’d asked you to let him take you out for the thousandth time.

“Too many bad experiences?” He questions.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You frowned, thinking back on a few of them.

Eventually, he slowly started to break down your walls and swore he’d change your mind. Even went so far as to listen to your worries and promised to face them with you..

But here he was, using them against you; just like everyone else did.

What you didn’t know, the moment you were out of sight, the man that you had left standing there turned to his assistant on his right,

“Ryan, was that the woman arguing with Cole?”

“Indeed, sir. Would you like her banned from stadium grounds for speaking to you like that?” Ryan asks, pulling his phone from his jacket.

“On the contrary, Ryan.” I intend to put a smile back on her face. “Please, get me her information.”

“Right away, Mr. Styles.”

Getting back to your apartment was a task in and of itself, considering it's hard to see when you’re bawling your eyes out. Walking in, you’re immediately met with the dread of Jackson eventually coming home.

You shed yourself of your jacket, and set your keys down on the counter. Glancing around the kitchen, you stop your gaze on the vase of flowers that was delivered to you just two mornings ago. Approaching the counter, you pick up the card stuck to the front of the vase.

“Saw these and thought of you. Hope they brighten your day a little. Have a great day, my love. -Jackson”

What had happened in the last two days?

What had happened since this morning?

You sat there immediately picking apart every interaction you’ve had with him over the time span.. You thought everything was fine. He usually loved your playful banter. He never complained before about your snide tongue when it came to him. He claimed it was one of his favorite things about you..

What changed since this morning?

“Okay, tough guy, I get it, you’re the boss.” You chuckle, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Although you don’t make it very far before you’re tugged right back down, being caged in by the man above you, sending you into a fit of giggles

“Oh, princess, I don't think you do.” Jackson says, sliding his hand up your side before settling on the side of your neck.

“Princess? Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to be a prince?”

“Does that bother you?” He questions.

“Well, considering you’re more of a frog than a prince, I don’t think it’s very accurate”

“What did you just call me?” He asks, wrapping his fingers lightly around the front of your throat. A sly smile forms on his face at the feeling of your breath hitching beneath his fingertips.

“A frog. Do you want me to spell it for you, baby?” You quip, smirking as you feel him increase the pressure on the sides of your throat.

“You’re going to forget how to spell your own name by the time I'm done with you, brat.”

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise, tough guy?” You challenge, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair.

“I’ll let you decide, princess.” He says, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

Normally he could go back and forth with you without a thought. Did he not find it playful anymore? Was he repulsed by you now? Did he really want to find someone else?

He was fine this morning!

You were driving yourself crazy. You weren’t sure you wanted to fight anymore. Not just fight with him, but fight for him. You sat back and thought more about what exactly he’d said to you. “Even the other wives and girlfriends ask how I deal with your attitude.”

So were you the topic of conversation a lot? Was your inability to act like the other (mostly) fake girlfriends and wives a problem?

Were you really that big of a problem?

You knew you could be a handful, but you never thought it would be like this.

Luckily for you, your bakery still has an apartment unit upstairs. Your old bed was currently calling your name, so, you made a drastic decision at that moment and you were going to stick to it.

You were going to remove yourself from the situation before it could get turned into anything else. It was time to run. Not that you were going to run far, just away from whatever this was turning into, no matter how much it hurt in this moment

Eventually, you stood and walked to your shared bedroom. You grabbed your carry-on suitcase, which was always packed for the times you were given no notice about accompanying Jackson to an away game, and you retreated back into the living room.

You grabbed a notebook and a pen from Jackson’s office, and had a seat at the kitchen island. Just as you were about to start writing what you were thinking, the front door swung open and in walked Jackson.

“H-hey.” you squeaked out, dropping your pen on the counter.

“Mm, hey.” he responds, dropping his bag on the counter next to you. He walks towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and walking back to be across from you at the island.

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding his chin towards the open notebook in front of you, seeing “Jackson,” written at the top. “You writing me an apology letter?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry?”

“Well that’s a start. Keep going.” He grins.

“I’m not, that’s no-“ you start, but his anger bubbles over and he’s already interrupting you, waving his hand in the air to silence you.

“You’re going to sit there and tell me that you’re not going to apologize to me? For causing a scene in front of my teammates? In front of Coach? The owner? The other girlfriends?”

“Is that what this is about? What other people think of me? You’re always bringing up what the other girlfriends think.” Tears begin welling in the corners of your eyes, once again.

It is true that you’re nothing like the other girlfriends and wives of the players. Most of them are that cookie cutter, instagram influencer type. Meanwhile, your instagram is full of cakes, and cookies, and other endless pastries. The ones you spend 70% of your life perfecting to sell in your bakery. So what you tend you keep to yourself? It’s better than hanging around the Brittany’s and the Madison’s (no hate, ya'lls names just got a bad rep) all the time and hearing gossip about people you don’t know, or care about. You keep it curtly polite in public and mind your business in private. What’s so wrong with that?

“Some of them think you’re rude.”

“Some of them need to get a sense of humor.” You mumble, fidgeting in your seat.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You have no idea how irritating you are. It’s like you constantly have to have the last word.” He all but yells, pointer finger in your face. “And don’t get me started on the constant need for reassurance. You have no idea how exhausting that is. You’re just so.. negat-“

“That’s enough. You’re actually insane.” You interrupted, standing to leave.

He was just trying to dig the knife in at this point. The thoughts of the argument in the stadium corridor long gone.

Jackson notices your carry-on settled by your feet. “What’re you doing with that?” he asks, standing from his seat.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you say, grabbing the handle “You said yourself you thought finding someone else was a good idea, so i’m doing the hard part for you. Now you can go get one of those other professional girlfriends that you seem to want so bad.”

With every word you said, he slowly got closer to you, each word irritating him further. Once he reaches you, his hands grip your shoulders, spinning you to face him.

“I don’t know where you seem to get off,” he starts, grasping your chin in a firm hold, “but this attitude of yours stops today. Do I make myself clear? I’ve given you everything. The least you could do is act a little grateful.” He states, dropping his hold on your chin. He maneuvers himself around you, grabbing the handle of your carry-on, but you don’t let go.

“I’m through being talked to this way.” You say, yanking your carry-on towards you. “You knew how I was from the beginning. If you didn’t like the way I was, you shouldn’t have pursued me.”

“You don’t have anywhere to go. You’re too.. rough to be loved by anyone else. I’m the best thing you’ve got.” He says pulling the suitcase back towards him. “I’ll just have to shape you into the person you should be.”

You’re just having a full on tug of war game at this point. “Do you even hear yourself? The person I should be? What is that supposed to mean?”

“More.. obedient. You constantly embarrass me with your attitude in front of people. Important people, might I add.”

“Jackson, you really are insane. You think that just because you’re some big shot quarterback that you have any right to treat me this way?”

“Treat you what way? The same way you treat me?” He sneers, moving closer to tower over you.

“If you think me teasing you about forgetting your fucking practice bag all the time is the same as using my genuine fears and anxieties against me then you really are insane. Keep the suitcase then.” You say, letting go as he’s pulling it again.

You’d find a way to replace everything you’d be leaving behind.

“If you walk out that door, you’re done; we’re done.” Jackson says as he’s hot on your trail.

“Is that a promise?” You ask before slamming the door behind you.

You were startled by the sound of shattering glass. Knowing Jackson, he’d just sent the vase of flowers that adorned the counter straight into the door as you slammed it shut.

Assuming this, only solidified your decision further.

You were done.

With relationships.

For good.

Right?

a/n 2.0: thank you for reading this far! I honestly can't believe all of these words came from the thing inside my skull! I swear that thing is broken more often than not.. but seriously! thank you for reading! please go give my dear @freedomfireflies some love from me as well <3

please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#mdni & dividers both by @/cafekitsune #harry styles #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

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