#i’ve been on tumblr for nearly 6 years

[xaldalneir]

Spoilers for Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Episode 12

Hi Tumblr! So, I’m breaking, like, a FIVE YEAR bout of silence and shit, but I can’t just sit quiet about this one. Witch from Mercury has been one of the best Gundam Series I’ve had the pleasure of watching. Today, the last episode of this cour ended on a heavy note. Now the majority of takes that I’ve seen have been saying that Suletta was either totally cavalier in what she did to Nameless Grunt Number 5 or that Prospera activated her somehow with her typical ‘move forward, gain two’ line. So, mainly to fight the opinion that Suletta is now just suddenly a murderous psychopath, I’d like to point out a few things. I’ll be laying out evidence from the series, from the Prologue story, Cradle Planet, and my own observations. So, first and foremost, Suletta has shown to act very impulsively whenever Miorine is in any sort of danger (slapping Guel in episode 1, her confrontation with Shaddiq in episode 9). She trusts Miorine implicitly and after last episode, after having been separated from her after a really tender moment, she’s undoubtedly panicking about whether or not she’s okay. Even Prospera can see that, because she makes sure to namedrop Miorine when she tells Suletta that if she gets in Aerial she can save everyone.  The GUND-bits told her that the transport and Earth House is safe. She activates what I assume is Permet Score 6 (same tetrahedron shield as ep. 9, along with Prospera telling Delling in ep. 11 that that’s as high as Aerial’s PS went during the Grassley duel), and is able to locate Miorine. I find it hard to believe that she didn’t also see Delling and Nameless Grunt Number 5 (because I’m guessing that the bits identified them via their personal Permet ID). She came into that room hard and fast, and Aerial immediately adopted a combat stance. That wasn’t the entrance of someone who knew the danger was over and was going to enter through a proper airlock or hanger. Then, of course, we get to the slap. I’ve seen people talk about how she could’ve just blocked or captured Nameless Grunt Number 5, but he had just overcome his shock at Aerial’s arrival and leveled his gun to finish Miorine and Delling. He was about to kill them. Suletta didn’t have time to think ‘Oh I can solve this nonviolently’. With everything we’ve seen from her so far, I’d be shocked if her first and only thought, and the one that she and Aerial acted on, wasn’t ‘Miorine is in danger I need to stop him’. Then, she gets out of Aerial. There’s blood everywhere, she trips and falls. Suletta, who we’ve never seen properly navigate any kind of social interaction ever. Suletta, who just minutes ago was in shock, nearly shut down over her mother having killed Nameless Grunts 1-4. Suletta, who just watched Nameless Grunt Number 5 try to kill Miorine, does not have the emotional capacity to deal with all of this. So she does what she’s had working for her so far with Earth House. She plays it off as clumsy, as silly. Suletta Forgetta indeed. A brief side bar on those who think the motto ‘run, lose one, move forward, gain two’ is some kind of trigger phrase, the Prequel story Cradle Planet shows us that Suletta has been using that since the age of nine to get over things she’s afraid of. She comes to Aerial one night because the elders at the Mercury colony don’t respect or trust her. She’s in tears. She climbs into Aerial’s cockpit, and she repeats that phrase until she’s brave enough to face the world again. Flash forward, she’s 17 now (last age given in the story was 15, but with context clues we can assume this next part is right before ep. 1). Prospera’s putting her plan into action, Miorine is being married off to whoever claims the title of Holder at Asticassia. Suletta comes to Aerial again. She tells her about what’s happening (Aerial knows already, Prospera told her the night before. Aerial doesn’t want Suletta to go, doesn’t want her to be used for revenge). She starts to panic, she’s anxious. Then she tells herself, ‘If you run, gain one. Move forward, gain two. Right, Aerial?’. She uses the words to propel herself forward once again. Just as she has done before, and just as we see her do so many times throughout the series. Suletta is clearly coded as neurodivergent. Whyever that is and whatever she’s specifically coded to be, I’m not going to speculate on, but she doesn’t understand social graces. She doesn’t always know the right way to respond. She defaults to a lot of reactions (hiding, playing it off) because those are what have worked for her. She’s not some manic psychopath suddenly and gleefully happy to kill, and she’s not the Winter Soldier waiting to be activated (that might be Aerial, if the red eye stickers in the Gunpla kit are any indication). She’s just doing her best. And that’s not always going to be the right thing to do, as we saw. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#gundam #g-witch #g witch #gundam the witch from mercury #suletta sunday #suletta mercury #suletta #ericht samaya #miorine rembran #miorine #prospera mercury #lady prospera #elnora samaya #delling rembran #gundam aerial #shaddiq zenelli #guel jeturk #gundam witch from mercury #g witch episode 12 #nika nanaura #chuatury panlunch #chuchu #earth house

[artbyblastweave]

worm sounds fascinating, how do I get started reading it? would you recommend starting from the beginning?

(Here we go)

So, first off, the specific questions you asked indicate that I should probably clarify the following: Worm is a single self-contained novel by Canadian author John McCrae (Pen name Wildbow). The book was written and published online for free on Wordpress, at a rate of two-to-three chapters a week, over the course of two years between 2011 and 2013. It's useful to conceive of it as a book written under the same paradigm as a particularly-faithfully-attended-to webcomic, except (and very unusually for a superhero thing) it's entirely prose with no visual elements. All of this is a longwinded way of answering your second question; yes, you should absolutely read it from the beginning, and the beginning is here. The entire book is available online, for free.

(In case that you haven't been able to pull together a broad sense of what the book is about just from perusing my Tumblr, I wrote a broad pitch for the setting at large and the story of Worm specifically here. The gist is that it’s a reconstructive superhero setting where superpowers are ironically tied into the user’s moment of greatest rock-bottom trauma, which is a major explanatory factor in why there are so many unstable kooks in costumes taking out their frustrations on the world; Worm proper follows the upwards-and-downwards trajectory of one Taylor Hebert, a teenaged insect-controller and would-be superhero with the secondary superpower of being able to rationalize nearly anything she does as being in the service of some greater good.)

Worm is divided into 31 arcs; each arc is comprised of 6-to-10 chapters, told in first person from Taylor’s perspective, followed by an interlude chapter told in third-person from the perspective of a member of the supporting cast. This structure is partly a holdover from early in Worm’s development, when the book was conceived as an ensemble piece that would rotate perspectives between different cape teams; as the book picked up steam, it also became a monetization vector, as Wildbow would write additional interludes if his donors hit certain milestones. This is important to note because one failure mode I’ve seen for reading Worm is that people will assume they can safely skip something called a “donation interlude” without missing anything important. You can’t. From a thematic perspective, the interludes are a major method by which the narrative keeps the protagonist honest, as they provide a sane or at least differently-insane perspective on the situation at hand, or on whatever over-the-top bullshit Taylor has pulled recently. From a craft perspective, the interludes are some of the best and most memorable writing in the book, at least in part due to the novelty of each character’s perspective.  From a story perspective, Wildbow was very diligent about making sure that most or all of the interludes introduced information or set up future events in a way that, if worst came to worst, he could incorporate into a regular chapter if the goal wasn’t met. But he did meet those donation milestones, meaning a lot of the book isn’t gonna make sense if you don’t read the interludes. Read the interludes.

You may have caught on to that “31 arcs with 5-10 chapters an arc” factoid and done some quick napkin math. Worm is long. Very Very Long. To my knowledge, Wildbow didn’t miss an update once, and 10,000 words every three days is considered a middle-of-the-road output for him. The effect of his truly insane production rate is twofold. First, the quality of Worm’s prose increases exponentially over the course of the book, going from workmanlike to amazing as a result of the sheer volume of practice he was getting. The second effect is that it’s 1.7 million words long. There’s a piece of apocrypha about how a mail-order copy of Stephen King’s It fell through a mailslot and pulverized the recipients chihuahua. Top researchers hypothesize that a printed edition of Worm could plausibly achieve similar results with a mastiff. This is mitigated by the pageless online format that lets you consume vast quantities of text without noticing the volume of what you’ve read; kinda similar to the infinite canvas trick that make some webcomics unprintable, or the infinite scroll UI trick if it were used for good instead of evil. But the gist is that Worm is very Long, and it’s also essentially a rough draft. Your enjoyment therefore might be contingent on your willingness to extend it a mulligan based on the absurd circumstances under which it was produced.

The very first chapter of Worm has the following disclaimer; Brief note from the author:  This story isn’t intended for young or sensitive readers.  Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Worm a pass. Some people interpret this as glib or dismissive on the part of the author; I think what’s closer to true is that he was just saving time, because the alternative would be most of the first chapter just being a ten-thousand-word long list of specifics. I can’t think of a single common trigger warning that isn’t applicable to Worm. Name a fucked-up thing, and it’s in there somewhere. Special mentions going to Bug Stuff (duh), dismemberment, torture, child abuse, incest, implied (and some offscreen) sexual assault, Nazis, animal death, and horrifically fleshed-out descriptions of bullying and institutional apathy, which are heavily influenced by the author’s own experience as a disabled student in public school. Reader Beware.

And, on a related note, the book was pretty clearly trying to be progressive.... by 2011 standards, which means you’re gonna be sucking air in through your teeth at points vis a vis representational issues, if that’s a big sticking point. It would be disingenuous for me to frame this as something that meaningfully detracted from my own reading experience, but it would be equally disingenuous to act like it doesn’t bother anyone deeply, and for valid reasons. To hone in on the queer rep angle specifically, picture the discourse if Ianthe was the only canon-lesbian character with any focus in TLT and you’re getting close to the situation on that front.

Wildbow (AKA Writers Georg, who should not have been counted) continued to maintain the two-chapter-a-week production rate to this day. His other works include: 

Pact (2014-2015) and Pale (2020-present) which are Urban fantasy works set in a universe colloquially known as the Otherverse, a setting in which essentially all magic is fueled by bullshitting the universe so hard that your chosen magical tradition is incorporated into reality as Something That Is Allowed; a major downstream result of this is that the sheer weight of precedent means that no magical practitioner is allowed to explicitly lie, on pain of the universe revoking their magical ability if they’re called out on it. Pact follows the misadventures of Blake Thorburn, a jaded 20-something who gets a target painted on his back after his grandmother- a widely feared diabolist- kicks the bucket and wills him her potentially apocalyptic cache of demonic texts as part of a complicated post-mortem gambit. Pale is a murder mystery/coming of age story. Set in Kennet, a small Canadian town with a subculture of unorthodox magical creatures who’ve managed to avoid being subordinated by more powerful human practitioners, the story follows a trio of pre-teen witches who’re hurriedly brought into the magical fold and tasked with trying to solve the murder of an extremely powerful magical being whose residence in the area was a major warding factor against magicians moving in and trying to bind the locals. 

Twig (2017-2018), a biopunk alternate-history coming-of-age novel set in a universe where, instead of writing Frankenstein, Mary Shelley actually figured out how to reanimate the dead; this kicked off a necroengineering/bioengineering revolution that leads to Britain conquering much of the world by the 1920s, lording over their holdings with everything from Kaiju to designer plagues, with a Royal Family that’s been modified into undying, post-human atrocities who treat their subjects as playthings as best. The protagonists are The Lambs, a group of heavily augmented child-soldiers used by The Crown’s science division as an investigation and infiltration unit; picture here The Hardy Boys or Scooby Doo if every case they were sent out on was in service of Ingsoc.  Alternatively, think of Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan trilogy with the same aesthetic sensibilities, but paired with the balls to portray British Imperialism as backed by genetic engineering as something apocalyptically horrifying rather than as forbidden-love fuel.

Ward (2018-2020) is the sequel to Worm, set in the parahumans universe two years after the end of the first book. Basically impossible to describe in any additional detail without massive spoilers; suffice to say that it was contentious. I liked it personally, and I maintain that it’s main error was not having the same ten years of Pre-writing that Worm got. Other works in the same universe as Worm include PHO Sundays, which were RP threads that Wildbow ran weekly on the official subreddit in which he would post a fictitious forum thread from within the setting’s cape enthusiast forums, PRT Quest, which was a semi-canon Play-by-Vote quest on the Spacebattles Forums, and Weaverdice, which is an ongoing WIP TTRPG for the parahumans universe that he works on in his spare time, and for which he’s written a lot of fleshed out faction documents and character profiles.

There’s probably some level of broad fandom analysis it’d be useful to impart here; one interesting bit of fandom lore is that, by virtue of being a superhero setting that made some effort to be internally coherent, the series received a big bump from the Rationalist community, who you may or may not have run into on here. The series was also a big hit with battle boarders, who-would-winners, and that whole corner of nerddom, since the power system is so well-defined and well-articulated; a consequence of this is that a major Worm fandom Locus is the wargaming-site spacebattles, which was hit with such an ongoing deluge of Worm Fanfiction that they have a designated Worm section on the creative writing board, something no other fandom necessitated. Both of those things have affected the shape of the fandom and the fanfiction scene in ways that I don’t feel qualified to comment extensively on this late in the evening, but it’s a fascinating little abyss to have a staring contest with. At any rate, I’d genuinely would recommend the subreddit for the OC threads, worldbuilding idea threads, and stuff of that nature, the Cauldron discord if you’re into fanfiction, and Tumblr if you’re into rambling character analysis. I would recommend none of these things before you’re actually done with the book.

That’s all I’ve got for the moment. Hope you enjoy the book. Or shun the book, if my sundry disclaimers generated a sort of warding effect. I hope you have a contextually appropriate interaction with the book.

#worm #wildbow #parahumans #worm web serial #thoughts #asks #superheroes #meta #worm thoughts

[heymacy]

Macy!! Hi!!

Thoughts on YQHBR Ian booping Mickey? <3

DRISH! HI!!!

boy oh boy do i have thoughts. in fact, i even wrote a little something about it 😉 i give you, YQHBR: boop edition

**

Mickey stretches, twists his torso and legs like he’s wringing out a sponge. Bleary eyes blink awake, squinting against the sunlight beaming through his window.

He sighs. Good morning.

It’s April 1st. The day of fools. He already feels like a fool, if he’s being honest, every day of his life. But that’s something he can sort through later. Right now he has some catching up to do.

He rolls over in bed and grabs his laptop where it rests on the dresser. He pulls it into his lap, flipping open the screen and waiting for it to light up. When it does, it’s less than a minute before he’s logged into tumblr.

What….what the fuck?

There’s something new on his screen, right at the very top. It isn’t an ad, at least he doesn’t think so. He clicks it, hesitant, and nothing happens.

Hm. Strange.

He decides to consult the one tumblr expert he knows.

fcku-up: what the fuck is this thing on my dash eternitysgate: good morning to you too, sunshine

It’s been a week and a half since they’d started talking. They were friends now — not IRL, but something close — and talked nearly every day. It was becoming an integral and beloved part of Mickey’s daily routine.

Ian had been on tumblr longer than anyone Mickey knew. Except maybe Cassie. But he wanted to talk to Ian.

eternitysgate: it’s called boop eternitysgate: i think it’s an april fools thing eternitysgate: they do something like this almost every year eternitysgate: one year you could spam people’s pages with digital crabs fcku-up: crabs? eternitysgate: yep. little orange crabs fcku-up: lovely fcku-up: so what do i do? eternitysgate: click “opt in”

Mickey does as he’s told. Waits. A few minutes later, he checks his notifications.

eternitysgate, staysmashed, oliviasmiddlepart, and 6 others boop boop boop

He takes a screenshot, crops it, and sends it to Ian.

fcku-up: explain eternitysgate: lmao eternitysgate: who else booped you?

Mickey checks. Cassie twice, Victor, Liv, Zoe, and Ian 4 times.

fcku-up: you, mostly eternitysgate: excellent 😇 eternitysgate: now you boop back fcku-up: this is silly eternitysgate: boop me back, bitch 👊🏻 fcku-up: 🙄 eternitysgate: go to my blog, click the little paw. but don’t accidentally unfollow me or i’ll cry for a thousand years fcku-up: 🖕🏻

Mickey clicks on Ian’s username and opens his blog. There, in the navigation section, is a little orange paw. He clicks it.

You’re about to boop eternitysgate

And then, below it, in a purple oval,

boop

He sighs. Clicks it. A tiny green box shows up at the bottom of the screen, altering him to the fact that his boop had been sent through.

eternitysgate: BOOP BOOP BITCH fcku-up: you are a child eternitysgate: I AM A GOD eternitysgate: you don’t understand mick, i’ve been doing this for an hour and a half and i’ve never felt more alive fcku-up: happy for you eternitysgate: oh come on, you know you love it eternitysgate: now go boop cassie back or she’ll come whining to me about it fcku-up: FINE 🙄

** 

It’s been two hours and, much like Ian, Mickey has never felt more alive. He’s been booping almost the entire time, his meter ticking up, up, up. He’s booping friends, mutuals, strangers, people he’s seen in his notifications and people he’s never seen before in his life. Anyone and everyone.

He and Ian are in what the user base has declared a “boop war” — flooding each other with boops, not caring if the other person boops back first. It’s madness and Mickey can’t stop laughing.

There are memes now. Viral posts made mere minutes ago. He’s never seen anything like it, never been a part of anything like it.

eternitysgate: boop me again and i’ll fly to chicago and boop you IRL fcku-up: is that a threat or a promise? eternitysgate: both

Mickey bites back a grin. 

eternitysgate: do you think they’re gonna keep this around after the day is done? fcku-up: idk, maybe fcku-up: part of me hopes they do eternitysgate: it would be a never-ending war eternitysgate: wake up every morning, ride into battle fcku-up: eventually you’d admit defeat eternitysgate: HA! not likely

It goes on like that for hours. They talk for the entire day. It isn’t all about boops, little tidbits slip in between the cracks – what did you have for lunch? how’s your sister? do you have to work tonight? – but the main focus is this inane game they’re playing, this innate sense of bonding they’re experiencing with each other and everyone else.

Mickey can’t help but feel like he’s a part of something, finally. In this game, and in the grand scheme of things. He has friends. Mutuals. People that want to engage with him. Acknowledge him.

To see and be seen.

The sun set ages ago. Mickey is beneath the covers, laptop on his thighs. He boops Cassie, then Liv. Then goes and super boops Ian, followed by an evil boop. He wishes there was something higher than an evil boop, but alas. He decides to send another.

eternitysgate: stop evil booping me you bastard fcku-up: never shoulda told me to opt in, bitch eternitysgate: god i’m gonna miss this fcku-up: they might keep it eternitysgate: in case they don’t, i just want to say – it’s been a pleasure booping with you 🫡

Mickey smiles. Rolls his eyes. Can’t help but find Ian, as always, painfully endearing.

fcku-up: you too, nerd

#IDK WHAT HAPPENED I BLACKED OUT #i miss them so much #and i miSS YOU DRISH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH and i love seeing you back on my dash #i hope y'all enjoy this one #maybe this is the motivation i need to get my ass back in gear and give y'all the final chapter + epilogue you deserve #we shall see #ANYWAY #ILY #BOOP #yqhbr

[fanfictilltheend]

You should see me in a crown - Chapter 5 (Y/N Grimes/Negan Smith)

AO3 LINK

Chapter 4 // Chapter 6

Masterlist

A/n: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want more. Also, I haven't written in this verse in literally years so I hope it feels cohesive. Let me know! I have one more chapter planned but not written yet so it may take a lil while. If you guys want more than that you have to let me know. Also, I have a Joel miller x reader in the works requested to me on tumblr. We have made it to 15 followers on tumblr lmao come join in the squad! Y/N is like 20 in this and Negan is whatever age he is in season 7 so if that’s too much of an age gap please turn back!

Warnings: 18+ smut do not interact if not 18+ afab!you, daddy kink, kissing, age difference, abusive!Rick Grimes, protective Negan, sexual touching, oral sex, multiple orgasms, cumming untouched, facials, attempted orgasm denial

Summary: Negan expresses doubts and things look grim for a while until they don't.

When I wake up the next morning, Negan is gone from the bed. I figure he's probably busy running an empire, so it makes sense, but part of me is still a little sad I'm alone. I have imagined waking up in his arms so many times it feels a little disappointing to be on my own.

So I put on my clothes then enter into the living room area and there’s Negan eating breakfast and reviewing some maps at the dining table. He’s wearing these black reading glasses that make him look very sexy in my opinion. 

He looks at me, lowering his glasses on the bridge of his nose, then back to his maps. He doesn't greet me. 

That’s strange. 

“Hey,” I say. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“What?” he asks breaking into a smirk, but his expression is distant. “Mad at ya? What makes you think that?”

Maybe I'm just overthinking things, but something in his vibe is definitely different. He's looking at me guiltily like he's my teacher about to tell me I'm failing tenth-grade English or something. Not like a guy who wants to fuck me.

“Nothing,” I mumble, forcing the thought away. “So what are we doing today?”

“I was thinking,” he begins, avoiding my eyes. “I think it’s time to get you back to Alexandria.”

“ What?” I spit, feeling like I've just been socked in the chest. I don’t believe this. “After everything I told you about Rick you think that's a good idea?”

“What? No, not like that,” he replies dismissively. “I’d beat the shit out of him first to get him to leave you alone and all and I’d always be there to reinforce the idea, but then I think you should get home to your family after.”

“Did I miss something?” I ask, thinking he’s kidding. “I thought it was cool to stay here for a while…”

I try to sit down in his lap, but he frowns and pushes me away lightly.

What the fuck?!

“Shit, do you not like me anymore?” I ask incredulously, so deeply hurt by his rejection I don’t even tear up. “I mean, are you embarrassed by me or something?”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m not one to beat around the bush: I'm ending things between us,” he says softly, avoiding my eyes. “It’s for your own goddamn good too, believe me.” He narrows his own eyes when he sees the disbelieving look on my face. “I mean we’re mortal fucking enemies for Christ sake!” 

“That can’t be the reason!” I nearly shout, absolutely flabbergasted at this turn of events. “You didn’t care about that yesterday!” I shoot back, still not fully believing him. “This is bullshit. I know you like me.”

“Do you?” he asks in amusement, but perhaps also cruelly. “Yesterday you thought there was a distinct chance I was a goddamn evil supervillain who was manipulating the shit out of you to get to your dear old dad. Maybe that’s all this was.”

I swallow, studying his face. Is he telling the truth? He can’t be, can he? I know what we’ve been feeling is real, right? I’ve never liked someone as much as I’ve liked him. But then something clenches in my stomach.

“Is that why you won’t all-out fuck me?” I ask, dejectedly, my heart now in my throat. “Or let me see your dick? ‘Cause you never really liked me?”

That would make sense. Maybe he really did play me. I’m crying now too, my lip trembling. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. That’s just fan-fucking-tastic. But it would explain why he’s been so slow to have sex.

“Hey, don’t fucking cry!” Negan exclaims, panic and guilt covering his features. And then his light eyes turn into an even worse expression: pity. “We’ve only had a thing for like a couple of days! You can’t like me that much. What about your merry band of Alexandria men? The ones who wanna fuck you and all. How about them? What do you have to cry for?”

“Fuck you,” I say, rubbing the tears from my eyes. “I made them up. There are no guys back at Alexandria who want to fuck me. I made them up to make you jealous. Because I like you, okay? You make me feel so safe and special. I don’t believe you could fake how nice you’ve been to me. But tell me right now it was all fake and I’ll b-believe you I guess. I’ll leave you the fuck alone. I respect boundaries…”

I am straight-up ugly crying right now like a little kid and I wipe my nose on my sleeve, sniveling. Be more pathetic! I think to myself. But that asshole really did hurt my feelings. 

“Maybe I happen to believe you’d be better off without me,” Negan begins slowly in his deep, gravelly voice, not really meeting my eyes. “Maybe I believe I’ll hurt someone as genuine as you.” He looks up at me. “I’m an asshole, Y/N, what can I say? I have five wives. And you’re just this kid with a shining light in her. I’d kill anyone who lays a finger on you and I’d never fucking live with myself if I hurt you or put that light out.”

Oh. So that’s what this is about. He’s scared of hurting me. I’m flattered, but he really is a fucking idiot!

“So then don’t hurt me,” I tell him. “It’s that simple. I mean, you asshole, breaking up with me — whatever this is — hurts so fucking bad. Don’t do it. And choose not to hurt me in the future. And then keep making that choice. You’re a smart and capable man. I think you can treat me right if you try. And what am I? Some of grandma’s fine fucking China? I can take a little heartache if need be. I’m not a pussy and you said it. And here’s the last thing I’ll say about this: you’re catching feelings for me. I know it. I see it in your eyes.”

He blinks at me funny and I know I’m right.

“Need to get your eyes checked then,” he mocks stubbornly.

“Fuck you, don’t push me away because you’re afraid,” I tell him.

“Fine,” he relents with a sigh. “Let’s just say, you may have a smart little brain in that hot fucking head of yours,” he admits, uncrossing his arms. “Maybe I am falling a little too fast. And maybe it fucking terrifies me.”

Aw, that’s actually really sweet! I knew the feelings I’m feeling weren’t one-sided. I wonder just how deep he’s fallen because I know I am head over heels. He just had to be a dick about it though…

“I haven’t felt this way since…” he trails off.

“Since Lucille?” I finish for him. 

“Fuck. How’d you know, kid? It’s like you can read my goddamn mind. But yeah, since Lucille. She was a real spitfire, same as you. Only you’re a bit softer and sweeter. She would have liked you…” he trails off again, looking distantly into the past and over his bat which is lying on the chair next to him. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, Negan,” I tell him honestly. “I bet I would have liked her too.”

He reaches out a big hand and ruffles my hair and I swat his hand away, grinning stupidly. 

“So now that we’ve got that angsty shit out of the way, you won’t try to send me home now, right?” I ask. “And you’ll kiss and touch me again ‘till I can’t breathe?”

He looks like he’s trying to resist, but pats his lap and I sit in it, my heart beating quickly.

“Maybe just maybe you’ve convinced me to let this shenanigan continue,” he breathes into my ear and I shiver.

“Apologize for scaring me,” I command, grinding down on his lap.

He grunts in surprise and starts to get a little hard. 

“I’m not big on apologies,” he tells me cockily. “Plus maybe you scare me a little.”

“In a good way?” I ask, grinding down on him again.

“In what I now think is a very good way. And maybe I’ll make it up to you right now for failing to see it from the start.”

He reaches his hand down my pants and starts rubbing my clit and I let out a whine.

“You know what would really hit the spot?” I ask as he works me, trying not to sound so absolutely wrecked by him. “And would prove your undying devotion to me?”

“What’s that?” he asks cockily, sticking a rough finger deep inside me and I moan. His finger is so big and fills me up so much compared to one of mine. 

“If I could see your cock?” I whimper as he begins to finger me at an earth-shattering pace, in and out.

He grins.

“How do you ask, baby?”

“Please, Daddy can I see your cock?” I ask nicely. 

He reaches his other hand down and undoes the button on his khakis and pulls out a very hard-looking dick. I may not have seen too many dicks in my day, but I do know a nice one when I see it. It is long and girthy and the reddish head is nearly purple. Goddamn. My mouth waters. 

“Can I touch it?” I whine eagerly, now soaking wet. 

“There’s my dirty girl,” he chuckles. “But not until you cum.”

“Well then get to work!” I challenge, grinding into his fingers, dripping down into his lap.

“With pleasure,” he chuckles. “Ride my fingers, baby.”

He rubs my clit some more with his thumb and then curls his finger deep inside me. I practically seize.

“Jesus,” he laughs, his eyes lighting up. “All this for just one finger?”

“And your dick,” I remind him, moaning. “How about another finger?”

“So greedy," he chuckles in approval. "But anything for you, baby girl.”

He does as he’s told and I feel so good and turned on I’m going to cum soon.

“Now, tell me what you like about old Negan Jr,” he commands, licking the shell of my ear, stroking his cock. “Since you were so goddamn eager to see him.”

“Do you mean your dick?” I snicker incredulously.

“At least I don’t call it my goddamned ‘meat wand’ or my ‘quivering’ fucking ‘manhood’ like I bet you read in some of those romance novels I saw in your bedroom. That could be arranged.”

“Shut up!” I snort, wanting to ask him how he knows so much about romance novels. “Keep fingering me, asshole,” I say because he’s stopped. He starts up again, hitting just the right spot. I let out a low moan. “But I’ll bite. Your cock is so hot and big, Daddy. I don’t know if it will fit in me.”

“You are very tight, princess,” he agrees, adding a third finger, pushing in and out of me so fast I see stars.

“And it looks like it will stretch me so well,” I whimper. “Can’t wait to suck it.”

Negan groans.

“Can I touch it now, please?” I whine, dangerously close to the edge.

“Not until you cum on Daddy’s hand. Go on, baby girl,” he tells me fondly. 

He fingers me so hard and so fast I lean back into him and cum with a small sob, and he doesn’t stop until I am an oversensitive, spasming mess. 

“N-negan!” I moan desperately, only a puddle of a human being at this point.

But even then he doesn’t stop, grinning a wicked grin, and I am riding over the edge again and I cum twice around his fingers as he hits that perfect spot inside of me, letting out a little scream.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Negan grins in my ear as my body stops its spasming. “That was so hot.”

“That’s the first time I’ve cum from you,” I remark, panting. “But not the first time I’ve cum because of you. That felt so good, Negan. Way better than when I touch myself. Can I touch you now?”

“Anything for my dirty girl. Go on,” he teases as I look into his dancing hazel-brown eyes. 

I reach down between my legs and stroke his throbbing cock and the soft flesh is hard as diamond. 

He groans deeply, smiling at me stupidly.

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for that,” he tells me. “Wanted it to be just right for you.”

“Me too,” I agree. “But it always would have been just right. Don’t you know?”

I spit into my hand and start working his cock and Negan moans appreciatively into my ear and my heart pounds deliciously.

“Feels so good, angel,” he whines in my ear. Precum is leaking down my fingers. The shaft and fat head are so swollen. I love when he calls me that.

“Can I put you in my mouth, Daddy?” I ask, reaching down to touch myself, even though I am so spent. Heat still surges between my legs.

“Are you sure, baby? Don’t wanna make you lift a finger,” he tells me seriously. “This is allegedly my apology to you.”

“Who said this was for your benefit?” I ask. “Plus maybe I like spoiling you too.”

“Well, aren’t you a goddamn sweetheart. If you insist…Fuck!” He groans as I get between his knees and bring the warm head to my mouth. “Shit, Y/N, I’m not gonna last if you keep sucking me like that. Taking me so well…” 

I am so wet between my legs. He tastes so good and those hot little moans and groans he makes against me are driving me insane. I take as much of his length as I can fit in my mouth which is about three-quarters. The rest I jerk with my hands.

“I’m close, baby,” Negan grunts. “God, just looking at you. Can’t remember the last time I was this fast to cumming. But watching you cum from my fingers alone, twice no less. That just tickles my fucking balls! Literally. Fuck!” he grunts. 

And just as he’s about to cum, I think, I pull off of him completely and squeeze his cock.

“Y/N?” he asks desperately, staring down at me, thrusting his cock into midair. “What the flying fuck—“

“Think you get to act like you’re leaving me and then cum? Dream on.” I announce, playing him at his own game, getting back at him from before. I let go of his cock. 

Negan starts to laugh, but then his face contorts into a look of utter reverence and he cums anyway, untouched, squirting cum all over my face. That asshole!

Looks like I fucked up the timing or maybe he’s just that in control of his body...Goddamn.

“Oh my god!” Negan laughs through panting, when he calms down a little, his mouth wide open. He looks awed, almost starstruck. “That wasn’t on purpose, I swear! You’re just that hot I couldn’t fucking help it I guess!” 

He throws his head back, snickering with laughter as I wipe cum out of my eye. 

“You’re so fucking adorable I can’t get enough of you. Literally. First, you give me an amazing blowjob, and then you think you can play my game? But you just weren’t fast enough, baby. I love it! I told you no one will ever be as bad as me. Oh, come on, lighten up.”

“Maybe I’m smiling under all this jizz…” I say. “You wouldn’t know though. Now, help clean me off, you complete motherfucker.”

His eyes soften down at me and he takes off his undershirt to clean me up. He pulls me up into his lap, against his bare hairy chest.

“You’re a sweetheart. Truly.” He tells me. I lean against him so tightly I can hear his heart beating, not wanting to ever let go. “That’s part of why you scare me so much. I’m sorry I was a dick, alright? That shit about sending you home was dumb of me to even suggest when I care about you as much as I do. I think I just don’t know how to deal with how I feel about you, Y/N. It’s new for me.”

“You’re also just a dick,” I point out. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Haven’t cum like that in ages,” he tells me seriously, his voice vibrating through his body against my ear. “Just from looking at someone like that. You’re so beautiful, baby. Can’t believe you thought you could play me! But God, you looked so pretty with my cum on your face,” he muses. “That image is going in the spank bank for sure. Even if you ditch me for my dick behavior. It’s gonna be in the motherfucking spank bank hall of fame.”

“You’re so gross,” I inform him. “And a dick and a jerk and an asshole, but somehow I still like you. So I guess I’ll take you back.”

“Who said you ever let me go? I’ve got you fuckin’ wrapped, baby.”

He leans down to kiss me long and hard and I positively melt into his mouth and I know he’s right.

“Negan!” Simon suddenly calls from another room. I look up and sit up straighter and so does Negan. “Bossman, we have a goddamn visitor. You’ll never guess who it is…”

A/n: Can you guess who it is???? Feedback please or just leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed!!!!!! Chapter 6 will be coming soon but I have to finish writing it and know that people actually want me to post it.

Chapter 6

Masterlist

#negan x you #negan #negan smith #my fic #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #negan/you #negan x reader #negan/reader #y/n grimes #rick grimes #negan x oc #the walking dead #twd negan #twd #negan smut #negan imagine #fanfiction #ao3 #twd simon

[historicallyaccuratecheese]

I’m now halfway through The Magnus Archives’ 1st season, so I thought it would be cool to just post my thoughts on each episode so far :). (Spoilers, I like all of them, and this podcast is going to be all I care about for a while.) Also NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!

Link to Masterpost (contains all of these thought posts)

- Episode 1, Anglerfish 🚬

Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh.

Really strong start, not the scariest episode so far but definitely unnerving, and it gives a good first impression and layer of intrigue. While the story is simple in comparison to the later ones, it was still enjoyable, and I was just appreciating the atmosphere and framing device of the episode as well.

- Episode 2, Do Not Open ⚰️

Statement of Joshua Gillespie, regarding his time in the possession of an apparently empty wooden casket.

This is still one of my favorites. The whole time I was on edge, and this was the first episode that really kept me up at night. I went from wanting to know what was inside the coffin desperately, to wanting to stay away from it as much as possible. Joshua’s insuring dread and creative solution to his problems was fantastic, and it ends with some intriguing plot threads being set up.

- Episode 3, Across The Street 📓

Statement of Amy Patel, regarding the alleged disappearance of her acquaintance Graham Folger.

I think I share a common sentiment when I say that Amy stalking Graham was almost as creepy as the actual horror lmao. Overall I don’t have that much to say about this one, but it was very enjoyable, and I feel really bad for Graham in retrospect :(.

- Episode 4, Pageturner 📕

Statement of Dominic Swain, regarding a book briefly in his possession in the winter of 2012.

I…feel like I should hold off on talking about this one for now. While it was definitely well written and creepy, it just seems to be so full of setup for future plot lines that I almost don’t feel like I can form a concise opinion on it until I really get what’s going on. Honestly, my only complaint with this episode is that maybe it’s setting up TOO much in one go, but I still had a good time with it overall.

- Episode 5, Thrown Away 🗑️

Statement of Kieran Woodward, regarding items recovered from the refuse of 93 Lancaster Road, Walthamstowe.

This one actually did a pretty good job at getting me to think about waste disposal workers lmao, I never really thought about them like that before. This one was just really creepy, but also kind of fun in a weird twisted way. It did a great job keeping me on edge as well.

- Episode 6, Squirm 🪱

Statement of Timothy Hodge, regarding his sexual encounter with Harriet Lee and her subsequent death.

I am simultaneously horrified, and unfortunately aroused by what happened here.

- Episode 7, The Piper 🔫

Statement of Staff Sgt. Clarence Berry, regarding his time serving with Wilfred Owen in the Great War.

Having an episode set nearly 100 years ago is a really fun idea, and it’s executed perfectly here. It was interesting how it also featured a real person, and I liked how the paranormal activity felt more metaphorical here, it really did feel like it was showcasing the horror of war.

- Episode 8, Burned Out 🌳

Statement of Ivo Lensik, regarding his experiences during the construction of a house on Hill Top Road, Oxford.

I found this one to be very nerve-wracking, since not only was the whole scenario with the tree just, like…three creepy things happening at once, but the fact that the statement was given by someone with schizophrenia did a good job making me question it’s validity, even though I’m certain it’s true after listening to a later statement. I also hope that I get to see how the history of the house is unveiled in the future.

- Episode 9, A Father’s Love 💡

Statement of Julia Montauk, regarding the actions and motivations of her father, the serial killer Robert Montauk.

This one made me feel really sad :(. I really felt Julia’s despair in this one (Jonathan Sims does such great voice acting for every statement btw, both the character and the actual person), and I was even more saddened by the implications of why Robert did what he did. If my assumptions are correct, then…SCREW THE MOTHER! It was also the first one that got me thinking about where exactly all of the paranormal stuff comes from, and later episodes only add to my theory that it’s all due to demons/cults/higher powers.

- Episode 10, Vampire Killer 🧛‍♂️

Statement of Trevor Herbert, regarding his life as a self-proclaimed vampire hunter.

Much like Episode 8, this one did a really good job at making me question the validity of the statement, although I became more sure of its truth a bit earlier. I also just love how nonchalant Trevor comes off as, compared to all of the other traumatized horror victims. (Also, I’m guessing that the name Trevor and the episode title are meant to be a Castlevania reference?) While vampires aren’t the most creative thing for an episode, at least in comparison to everything else, the beast-like execution here more than made up for it in my opinion.

- Episode 11, Dreamer 💭

Statement of Antonio Blake, regarding his recent dreams about Gertrude Robinson, previous Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

Yeah…Gertrude Robinson did not die a normal death. My guess is that she was caught by ✨the horrors✨, but I’ll wait and see. This was another very tense episode, with the prophetic dream world being really, REALLY creepy. I do hope we get to see more of “Antonio” in the future, as I think he could be quite important. (I also hope he gets punched for DUMPING GRAHAM IN HIS TIME OF NEED-)

- Episode 12, First Aid 🏥

Statement of Lesere Saraki, regarding a recent night-shift at St. Thomas Hospital, London.

OMG GERARD KEAY HI HI HI HI HOW ARE YOU!!! Yeah I audibly gasped when he showed up again, it was such a cool moment. Anyways, hospitals already creep me the fuck out so this was pretty effective. Definitely some great setup here, and it helped to make a bit more sense of Pageturner, now that I have a better idea of what Gerard’s whole deal is. It also added some good fuel to the whole cult idea, and my god this poor nurse. Having to deal with all of this in a single night sounds like hell.

- Episode 13, Alone 🌫️

Statement of Naomi Herne, regarding the events following the funeral of her fiancé, Evan Lukas. Statement taken direct from subject.

Having a new voice in this episode was really cool, and Katie Davison did an excellent job as Naomi! It was also cool to see how Jon interacts with other people, he was…nicer than expected. This episode honestly felt like it was calling me out, as I am also someone who’s confident in my independence, but if I was in Naomi’s place I would also probably be scared shitless. I really hope she’ll get a happy ending :(. Also, The Lukas family is quite intriguing, especially since we now know they have a connection to The Institute…

- Episode 14, Piecemeal 👆

Statement of Lee Rentoul, regarding the murder of his associate Paul Noriega.

Firstly, this is probably my favorite of Jon’s vocal deliveries. His performance of Lee Rentoul just feels perfect. (Once again, this applies to both the writer and the character, I’m genuinely convinced the latter is an ex-theatre kid.) Outside of that, THIS ONE CREEPED ME OUT. The body horror was very effective, with the only thing holding it back being the fact that Lee isn’t the most likable protagonist in the podcast, but if this happened to someone else I’d be even more upset. Still though, it was a very creative concept, and the whole vibe and execution of the episode made it great.

- Episode 15, Lost Johns’ Cave 🕯️

Statement of Laura Popham, regarding her experience exploring the Three Counties System of caves with her sister Alena Sanderson.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fu-

- Episode 16, Arachnophobia 🕷️

Statement of Carlos Vittery, regarding his arachnophobia and its manifestations.

The way they tackled the concept in the title was really well done. Arachnophobia is seen as an irrational fear by a lot of people, so having it portrayed as an effect of childhood trauma was a good call. And as someone who is not arachnophobic, this episode got me close to feeling that way. What ever force was making Carlos relive his trauma is a sick fuck. Also the cat was a real one, glad he survived the whole situation. (Also THE WORMS, HOLY SHIT IT’S THE SEX WORMS!!!)

- Episode 17, The Boneturner’s Tale 🦴

Statement of Sebastian Adekoya, regarding a new acquisition at Chiswick Library.

This episode really compelled me to get out the rubber bands connecting images lmao. I really liked all of the connections to past statements here, like the presence of another book from the library of Jurgen Leitner, to the mention of Micheal Crew. The body horror here was once again very creepy, (outside of the flat rat, that was morbidly funny), but my favorite part of the episode was the introduction of Elias, which was a humorous, but also very intriguing scene. Also, the themes of books containing power was great as well. Great stuff all around.

- Episode 18, The Man Upstairs 🥩

Statement of Christof Rudenko, regarding his interactions with a first floor resident of Welbeck House, Wandsworth.

…ew. Ok in all seriousness, this is probably my least favorite episode so far. Still very far from bad, but after all of the extremely interesting themes and plot threads, having an episode where the idea was just “What if a guy had a house covered in meat? Wouldn’t that be fucked up?”, felt just a little bit underwhelming. Which like, the fact that my least favorite episode’s biggest problem is that I find it slightly pales in comparison to previous ones is just a testament to how much I’ve been enjoying the podcast. Still though, there were definitely a few things I really liked. The reveal of the room was creepy (especially considering the meat that seemed…alive…), and as someone who has had to deal with upstairs neighbors making noise for hours during construction, this episode definitely scared me.

- Episode 19, Confession, and Episode 20, Desecrated Host ✝️

Statement of Father Edwin Burroughs, regarding his claimed demonic possession.

This, alongside Lost Johns’ Cave, was one (or I guess, two…) of those episodes that seriously fucked me up. While I am not religious, I have always had fears of how religion can negatively affect me and the people around me, despite the good that it seems to do for so many people. So seeing Edwin be charged for every “sin” he committed by a higher power that wishes to steal its faith, and then not get judged by it, but by the people around him for his one true sin, was absolutely haunting, and I hope he turns out ok in the end. Outside of the horror, the episodes were fantastic. Listening to the events of Episode 8 from Edwin’s perspective, and seeing how Ivo’s actions saved him, was really cool, and solidifies in my mind that Ivo’s experience was real. The connections to demonic magic and Latin script thickened, and it was overall just a great mid-season finale. In conclusion, I hope that Martin feels better soon, and if he isn’t actually sick and is being plagued by ✨the horrors✨, well then I hope he survives :).

Thank you for reading my silly little thoughts if you’ve made it this far, it really means a lot to me :). I’ll probably update this every time I finish half of a season, so hopefully my thoughts on episodes 21-40 will be here in the Reblogs soon. :)

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #Gertrude Robinson #elias bouchard #joshua gillespie #gerard keay #jurgen leitner #Ivo lensik #Edwin Burroughs #naomi herne #Julia Montauk #Robert Montauk

[padawansuggest]

Hey so I just realized a thing that might explain why I hate comments that aren’t. Like. Real comments. (Just emojis, asking for more, or saying chapter kudos, those aren’t real comments when that’s literally the entirety of the comment.)

Thing is. I am disabled. For nearly 20 years now, my biggest interaction with the world has been through fandom. I don’t leave my house much because I’m literally THAT disabled and I leave for like. Two hours MAX. Usually less than one. I don’t get to talk to many irl people. The most irl interaction I’ve had this year is with my neighbor who’s got a 7 month old and I made her a blanket and I made her 6 year old a scarf. It’s what I do, and it’s not much but that’s the most interaction I’ve had irl all year with someone that isn’t my father.

I have been interacting with the internet through fandom, tumblr, funny posts and instagram which I use 99% for my yarncraft (that’s my personal craft outside of video games and fandom, I make yarn and I crochet and sometimes knit, I sometimes weave, I do just about anything I can with yarn because it’s my only True Special Interest other than fandom) and that’s really. It.

That’s all I got. And I call these specific comments ‘the echo chamber’ because all they do is say the same thing over and over with no meaning. I want people to give me sincere comments on my fics, not because I DESERVE it, but because that’s REALLY one of the only interactions I have with the world. I’m sorry if the echo chamber comments are all you got, you don’t have to say shit tbh, but getting the echo chamber comments puts me in this fucked up mindset that nothing I say will ever be replied to. That nothing I do is worthy of interaction.

I’m still a human. I still want interaction with people. The echo chamber comments aren’t it, and they give me anxiety feeling like nothing I say is worthy of reaction, attention, existing. All I want is for people to realize that a sincere comment (even if it CONTAINS emojis or ‘chapter kudos’ as long as it’s not the whole damn comment) is so much more worthy to me, than it likely is to you, because that’s really all I got.

#comment etiquette

[whalesforhands]

it’s nearing 2024, so i want to say some pretty swell things but i put it under the cut bcs i get really cringey and im a crybaby and im embarrassed

hello everyone! thank you for following/reading/interacting with me for the past (nearly) 6 months! it’s been a joy to be able to write and have an audience, since this is the first time this ever happened. i even sometimes wonder how it’s possible for you all to even like my writing, haha. thank you for the follows, likes, comments and asks! believe me when i say that on breaks, i just scroll through and read past asks and comments to smile again.

thank you for all your patience, and i’m sorry i can’t write every suggestion and past request. it really is dependent on my own creativity and imagination :(

thank you to all my anons;

omori anon, twt bird anon, 🍊anon, 💫anon, ☀️anon, 🗣️anon, brush anon, my first ever anon (these are just ones i remember off the top of my head :)) of course, non-character anons and non-anons who have ever sent an ask ever, even people who have trickled in from AO3; i genuinely cannot say thank you enough! (even if you don’t remember me)

also, although i don’t know if the ‘regulars’ i see are comfortable with being mentioned (like full on username on blast call out) i just wanna say thank you to you, even if you’ve never sent an ask or anything. but do know that i do see you and very much like you like how you consistently like my posts; whether it be you only read fic posts or me just talking, whether the content may be on my kofi or tumblr, im very appreciative of you following and liking my content.

you all managed to bring me a lot of joy in my time spent here, and i’m very very happy if you would be willing to put up with me for another 6 months so that i can officially say i’ve been with you all for a year!

thank you very much, here’s to a 2024 that will make you find more enjoyable times for both you and me! ♥️🐳

#nvytalks #being cringe and sappy as i try not to cry

[wherethewaterstarts-andyouend]

Tag Game!!

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of these so I decided I’d start my own.

Name/Nickname: Diini

Age: 21

Zodiac: Gemini

Favorite Color: Crimson/maroon

How long have you been on Tumblr: Nearly 6 years?

Something you're currently into: Stardew Valley :3

Favorite Drink(s): Blue Powerade, Strawberries slushies from Sonic, and Mexican apple soda (I drink water along with everyone of these)

Last Googled thing: 'wizard stardew valley'

Favorite time of day: When everyone is asleep

Looking forward to: IDKHow's new album

Song stuck in your head: Rush E

Last song you listened to: Friday I'm In Love - The Cure

Three Songs:

- Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears

- Look at the Time by Sawyer Hill

- Infatuation by I Don't Know How But They Found Me

Random fact about you: I learned how to knit late 2022 and learned to crochet last May because I figured I might as well figure it out too lol

Tagging: @moneygoblin04 @nothingspecialherern @fetchingtears @shittingrocks @acaesic @acidgrime @burnt-sienna-soup-ladles @child-of-the-sea-and-sky @felineinabowtie @rebelwhodoesntknow and whoever else would like to join :)

#call me diini #tag game

[oneunexpected]

Happy TUC20! Last year, for the fifth anniversary of TUC Week, I wanted to create a playlist for every book in the series with one song per chapter. Well, I never got around for it, but when I saw @prophecyofgray's event I decided I’d use it as a second chance!

So, here’s my chapter-by-chapter playlist for Gregor the Overlander, with a brief description of why I chose each song. This one was tough, because so much of it is exposition, but I hope you enjoy and tune in to a couple of tracks during your (re)read! Click here to listen on Spotify. If you're gonna listen to anything, listen to Track 24, that's my favorite :)

1 - Could Be a Curse by Kaina - I almost went with Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” for this one, because I wanted to capture how cooped up Gregor feels, and I think both songs capture that feeling of wanting more out of your life than you’re getting. I went with Could Be a Curse because the line “What if I die here, holding my breath” reminds me of Gregor at this point — he’s spent the last few years of his life holding his breath, wondering about his father’s fate.

2 - Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake - Gregor and Boots meet the cockroaches and run to Regalia in this chapter. Cosmo Sheldrake’s music has such a unique and almost fantastical quality to it, and I thought this would be a good choice to represent how strange this new world is to Gregor and how quickly he’s whisked off into it.

3 - Uninvited by Alanis Morisette - This song goes hard. It was written for a movie about a fallen angel, so it captures the whole “I’m curious about you but also I don’t feel like you belong” dynamic Luxa and Gregor have in this chapter.

4 - Sound and Color by Alabama Shakes - “A new world hangs / Outside the window / Beautiful and strange.” Just another song I thought would be good for Gregor’s introduction to the Underland, especially with its line, “No more to see the setting of the sun.” Of course, Gregor’s only goal is to see the sun again.

5 - Plainsong by The Cure - I chose this song more for its sound than its lyrics. The shimmery, quiet chimes that begin the track give way to this explosion of synthy strings and bass, and I chose that to represent Gregor walking through the moths and seeing Regalia for the first time.

6 - Hotel California by The Eagles - Honestly I could not decide what song to use for this chapter. I nearly used the song I ended up using for chapter 10, but I went with this classic mostly for the line, “I had to find the passage back to the place I was before.” Gregor is realizing the fate of every other Overlander that falls, and he’s also beginning to realize he is something of a captive, so I think the song’s concept of a too-good-to-be-true place that traps all who enter fits well.

7 - Sinnerman by Nina Simone - One of the greatest songs ever, used here to try to replicate the chaos of Gregor on the run from the Regalians on the river, not knowing what danger waits for him.

8 - Come Away to the Water by Maroon 5 and Rozzi - The first of many tracks I stole from The Hunger Games soundtrack. Shoutout to Suzanne for reusing themes. This song is creepy, kind of charming, and intended to lure the listener to a slaughter — perfect for the gnawers, who in this chapter promise to hunt Gregor to the last rat, matching well with the song’s refrain, “We are coming for you.”

9 - Eight by Sleeping at Last - I was stumped on this one, so I turned to Sleeping at Last, whom everyone in the fandom was obsessed with before I joined tumblr. This chapter gives us the first glimpse behind Luxa’s walls as we learn of her parents’ fate. The lyrics “I was little, weak and perfectly naive / And I grew up too quick” match her very well, and frankly, they match Gregor, too.

10 - Run Daddy Run by Miranda Lambert - Another THG classic that fits too well. “Mama’s been crying in the kitchen / Sister’s been scared of the dark / I’ve been gathering the pieces of all these shattered hearts” represents Gregor’s family situation in the wake of his father’s disappearance all too well. In this chapter, Gregor finds out his dad is alive but held captive, and the chorus “Daddy, can you hear the devil drawing near? / Like a bullet from a gun, run, Daddy, run” fit the situation well for me.

11 - Baba O’Riley by The Who - Another chapter I was stumped by, but I ended up focusing on Gregor choosing to bring Boots on the journey for this track. I liked the line “don’t cry, don’t raise your eyes” for the idea of bringing a toddler on a deadly trek. This song depicts hope in a period of war, and I feel like this is the chapter where Gregor really begins to believe finding his dad is possible.

12 - Yellow Light by Of Monsters and Men - This is a good TUC song, through and through. I chose it for this chapter because of the line “Ignore all those big warning signs,” because this chapter has a lot of those. This is the first time we get a hint of Solovet’s true character, and it’s also the chapter where an inconsolable Nerissa foretells Henry will meet some fate worse than death.

13 - Electric Co. by U2 - U2 is my favorite band, so you’ll get a lot of them in these playlists. Sorry that I have the music taste of a 50-year-old man. Anyways, this chapter is where Luxa and Henry dare Gregor to jump off the side of the cliff, and also the chapter where Gregor learns Henry’s parents were killed by rats. “Boy, stupid boy / Don’t sit at the table / until you’re able to” reminded me of Gregor’s inability to hang with Luxa and Henry, but the whole song, which is about this young man careening out of control, reminded me of Henry.

14 - Cut the World by Anohni - This is the chapter where the questers have a discussion on whether or not weak individuals are worthy of protection, and Luxa is extremely passive on the topic. This is a beautiful song I almost saved for Marks of Secret because I think it’s a good song for her, and MoS is really her book in my eyes, but I decided to use it here. “For so long I’ve obeyed / That feminine decree / I’ve always contained / Your desire to hurt me / But when will I turn and cut the world” are good lyrics for Luxa, who is unwilling to take a stand here (but eventually does “cut the world” on behalf of those who can’t defend themselves in the fourth book, as we know). But I also like the song for the crawlers, who take abuse from every other species — Temp and Tick can hear this whole conversation about whether or not they’re worthy of living! — and survive regardless.

15 - Road Drum by Mozart Gabriel - This song has a strong beat, but it’s still pretty quiet, which I liked for the ring dance the crawlers perform. The song’s lyrics depict aid from spiders and foxes that the protagonist receives as they run from evil, and I liked the way that matched with Gregor splitting off from the group and running away from the battle with the gnawers and ultimately ends up in a spinner’s web.

16 - Roslyn by Bon Iver and St. Vincent - Song selected mostly for vibes, and also because I like the line “Wings wouldn’t help you down,” which is a little nose since Gregor’s imprisoned dozens of feet off the ground. This song’s kind of a bummer, which is a good enough fit since Gregor’s trapped wondering if all of his friends are dead and if he’ll ever be able to find his father, but it also has a pretty melody, hopefully a little similar to the sort of lullaby the spinners play to calm down Boots.

17 - Acrobat by U2 - Another Luxa song that I almost saved for Marks of Secret. It’s a little too on the nose, maybe, because this is the chapter where Luxa and Aurora the Coiler to allow everyone to escape. “And I must be an acrobat / To talk like this and act like that” fits Luxa well at this point in her character arc — a bratty 11-year-old who seems haughty and cold, only to have these moments where her brave, selfless core is revealed.

18 - We’re Going to be Friends by The White Stripes - this is a gentle song for a relatively gentle chapter, a sort of breath of fresh air. Gregor saving Luxa with root beer (and then letting her try it after) is a turning point in their relationship, and Boots pouring out a little for everyone to try is one of the most harmonious moments we get in the whole book.

19 - The House of the Rising Sun as performed by The Animals - “Oh mothers, tell your children / Not to do what I have done.” I love this song for Ripred. I love the way it sounds, and I love its lyrical content. Obviously, he’s not a man destitute in New Orleans, but he is certainly a cynical old rat who recognizes all the ways he’s gone wrong. In terms of regrets, it’s also a good song for Vikus, who is staring down his own mistakes in this chapter.

20 - Sympathy by Vampire Weekend - Ah, the mutual need song. Also the Gregor-Luxa-Ripred triumvirate song. “Enemies for centuries / Until there was a third” is pretty good for them, right? This is sort of a tongue-in-cheek piece about what we’re willing to do, and what we’re willing to look past, so long as we have a common enemy, so I think it’s perfect for Gregor and Ripred’s famous conversation, and also for the spiders joining the quest now that their backs are to the wall.

21 - Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls - This chapter was so tough for me. We got Gox drinking Treflex, we got Luxa talking about how she tells herself she’s gonna die every morning and Gregor realizing that’s not too different from what he does, we got a more in-depth description of bonding, and somehow I ended up with Iris, which I know has become kinda tacky. I thought a song about wanting someone to really understand you was fitting for a chapter about bonds, but also fitting for Luxa talking about how her parents’ death affected her.

22 - Little Dark Age by MGMT - Not really much to explain here. Every character is miserable in this chapter, and something about this song reminds me of Henry’s increasingly concerning behavior. “Forgiving who you are for what you stand to gain?” Sounds Henry-ish!

23 - 500 Miles by Peter, Paul and Mary - Tick’s death is a point of no return for Gregor in this whole series, the first major loss he experiences. Even beyond the grief of losing Tick, the situation in this chapter is so desolate, with Boots sick and all of the horrible things Gregor has witnessed finally catching up with him. “500 Miles” is about homesickness, but also recognizing that you can’t return, and the saddest line to me is “Lord, I can’t go home this way.” Gregor can’t go home, yet, either, since he hasn’t found his father.

24 - Until The End of the World by U2 - If you listen to any song here, PLEASE listen to this one. I made this whole series of playlists just to work this one in. It tells the story of Judas and Jesus, from Judas’ point of view, which is so, so perfect for Henry and his relationship with Ares and Luxa. I love the way this song sounds — I can just imagine those opening notes when Gregor decides what he’s going to do — but my favorite part is the outro. This technically happens in the next chapter, but “Waves of regret and waves of joy / I reached out for the one I tried to destroy / You / You said you’d wait until the end of the world” is such a perfect thing for Henry’s demise because of Ares’ decision to break the bond.

25 - King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men - “And as the world comes to an end / I’ll be there to hold your hand / Because you’re my king and I’m your lionheart” makes me cryyyyyy for Gregor and his dad in this chapter. Gregor’s been so brave for so long, and the reunion they have when his father finally becomes lucid again is the best moment in the book, even though scores of rats are waiting to tear them apart.

26 - Drowning Man by U2 - Another chapter, another U2 song, this one for Gregor bonding with Ares. The whole song is a good bonding song, but the lyrics “Take my hand / You know I’ll be there if you can / I’ll cross the skies for your love” remind me the most of their particular situation, down to Gregor begging Ares to recite the verse back.

27 - A Sort of Homecoming by U2 - Perhaps Prophecy of Bane will have less U2 songs. Good Lord. Anyways, I chose this song for “Oh don’t sorrow, no, don’t weep / For tonight, at last, I am coming home / I am coming home” and the whole “you’re scarred for life but at least you’ve made it home” vibe of this song as Gregor, his dad and Boots finally make it back to Grace.

#tuc20 #tuc20: gto #ruminations #gregor the overlander #underland chronicles

[eirenical]

2023 Tumblr Top 10

I’m sure to no one’s surprise, 8 of my 10 top posts this year were Mysterious Lotus Casebook meta, gifsets, or fic.  XD  The other two were about the Bishop from Les Mis, which got a double kick because I did this after his first chapter in the Brick readalong came up again this year and... a very personal post that I didn’t want to shove in people’s faces again so I took it off the end.

Anyway, I just wanted to take this moment to thank the MLCB fandom, because this is the most interaction (and by that I mean genuine conversation not just reblogs and likes) I’ve had with people in fandom in a long time and I have been having so much fun with you guys.  I have more fic and more meta (and if I have the energy, more gifsets) planned for this fandom in 2024, so stick around and by all means, come talk to me.  ;D 

1. 204 notes - Oct 13 2023

2. 196 notes - Sep 4 2023

3. 184 notes - Nov 5 2023

It's nearly two months after the Bicha poison has been purged from his system before Li Lianhua picks up a sword again.  He'll...

4. 142 notes - Jul 31 2023

The rest behind a cut because this is going to be very long otherwise. XD

5. 125 notes - Aug 26 2023

I’ve been thinking a lot about Fang Duobing and names.

6. 76 notes - Jan 1 2023

I always forget how much I love the Bishop until I’m reintroduced to him at the start of every readthrough of the Brick.

7. 68 notes - Aug 10 2023

8. 66 notes - Sep 11 2023

Having a lot of feels about Huli Jing tonight. Li Lianhua must have found him on the street, orphaned, abandoned, scrounging for...

9. 56 notes - Sep 4 2023

Created by TumblrTop10

#tumblrtop10 #mysterious lotus casebook #eirenical.gifsets #eirenical.fic #eirenical.meta #mlcb meta #mlcb fanfic #oh tumblr #seriously guys i love you #you're the best #^_^ #thank you for everything these last four months #here's to many many more!

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 18)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 10,316

Summary: As Javier and Horacio make a fresh start in Madrid, they attempt to come to terms with their past, present and future with some unexpected help.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Romantic/emotional sex, edging, PTSD symptoms, grief and parental loss, brief discussions of sexuality/coming out, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Ok, so I know I said I wasn't going to be posting for a while, but after some lovely comments I've had on Tumblr this past week, I thought I would show my appreciation by sharing this a bit earlier than anticipated ❤️

Chapter 19 is ready to go, so hopefully I can post that soon, as it's the second half of their Madrid adventures (I had to split it because it got too big for one chapter, oops).

Thank you once again to anyone still following this fic - old or new - I can't believe it's been over two years since I first started it. Never in a million years did I expect it to become, well, this lol. But we are very nearly there now!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested. 

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 18: One Day at a Time

It was the stillest part of the day, the city suspended somewhere between the dying embers of night and the cusp of dawn. The streets below saw parallel worlds collide as overindulgent revellers staggered alongside coffee-carrying workers who had drawn the short straw.

Neither Javier nor Horacio was a stranger to witnessing sunrise from both sides. But there was comfort in waking up to it rather than being caught unawares when sleep never came.

A raucous catfight had woken them, although the sparring partners had since gone their separate ways and restored calm to the neighbourhood.

Javier surveyed the aftermath from the French doors of the balcony, a pair of arms smoothly securing themselves around his waist, their fingers entwining over his stomach.

“Did I miss anything?” Horacio croaked, grogginess still heavy in his throat, his bare chest radiating welcomed warmth against Javier’s chilled back.

“Just the usual suspects. I know the ginger one lives opposite, but I think the black one must be a stray.”

“The same one that was out here the other day?” Horacio nodded towards their balcony, equipped with a table, two chairs, and a few hanging baskets and potted plants.

“Looked like it.”

“Maybe we should put some food out if it stops by again.” Memories of the stray he and Alejandra played their part in looking after sprung to Horacio's mind. Strangely enough, that had been a black cat too.

“Should I tell Luna she’s been replaced already?”

“Don’t you dare.” At least the teasing took Horacio’s mind off the fact he missed all two-legged and four-legged residents of the ranch tremendously, and according to reports from Chucho, the feeling was mutual.

It had only been weeks since they left Laredo, but the days stretched out longer now. It wasn’t that time dragged, but their pace of life had slowed again. The ranch was a vacation compared to Colombia, but jobs still needed to be done. Here though, they had no commitments.

The first week involved sorting out their apartment. It came fully furnished, but they needed basics like bedding, groceries and warmer clothes. Arriving in Madrid during the winter months was a shock to the system after their balmy Texan Christmas, a fact Horacio probably should have warned Javier about before they stepped off the plane in their short-sleeved shirts.

Not that Javier minded whenever the temperature dropped in the evening, and they would huddle on the couch in front of the electric fire, limbs draped over one another. There was no scent of mesquite wood this time, but that didn’t matter when shared body heat and tactility were more than enough to satisfy as they christened the furniture in their shared home.

The décor was all neutral colours but vibrant paintings of local landmarks and rural Spain hung on the bright white walls. A long corridor stretched from the entrance, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and separate living area branching off it. Despite the modest square footage, the high ceilings and large windows along the external wall made the space light and airy.

The apartment was still dark enough to protect them at this time of day, and semi-closed blinds covered the balcony doors from top to bottom. They could see out the hangings, especially if they were prised apart. But Javier had ensured on the first day they arrived that there was no chance of anyone from outside nosing in. He wasn’t taking any chances, even though that threat was left back in Colombia.

Now the commotion outside had died down, they basked in the peace of their embrace.

“It was the cats that woke you, wasn’t it?” Horacio asked after a contented silence. He had to check, even though there had been a marked improvement in their sleeping patterns lately.

“Yeah, it was. I slept well last night, actually.”

“Me too. Better now I’m getting used to the traffic again.”

“The ranch really makes you forget how fucking loud the city is.” Or maybe, now Javier thought about it, it was the ranch that was so fucking quiet. “I’m still waking up through the night sometimes, cats or no cats. But I guess that might just be getting used to this place.”

“You like it here, though?”

“Yeah, I do. I can see why you wanted to come back.”

“I only wanted to come back with you.” Horacio’s fingers traced idle patterns across the soft curve of Javier’s stomach.

A light shiver ran through Javier as he lolled his head back into the pillow of Horacio’s shoulder. “So you could do this, huh?”

Horacio hummed in agreement against Javier’s neck, his mouth working methodically back and forth as a hand wandered south in search of a trail of dark hair, skirting through the wiry strands.

“Well, it wasn’t for the sangria,” he scathed, his teeth scraping over Javier as though he would rather devour the man in his arms than a glass of that stuff. Maybe it was because they hadn’t drunk much alcohol since Javier returned from Colombia, but neither had taken to it. “And you don’t seem to be complaining.”

“There are worse ways to start the day.” Javier relaxed into Horacio’s hold, allowing himself to be manhandled because there was no rush. There never was anymore.

Plenty of early mornings had begun similarly. Sometimes one man would wake up to the calid pressure of a mouth around his cock, gradually allowing the slow burn of arousal to build whilst they were half-asleep. Other times they would spoon with one held inside the other, barely moving, vaguely dreaming but always on the brink of release.

Then there were times when slow and gentle weren't enough. They had mastered the art of keeping each other quiet, for their apartment walls weren’t the thickest. Not too much, though, because the rhythmic slapping of skin-on-skin or the crisp echo of a palm across the ass was part of the appeal.

But teasing strokes and languorous rolls of the hips were in order now. One hand pumped at an unhurried pace, Javier’s length fitting in Horacio’s grip as though they were made for each other. As though Horacio had every nerve ending and sweet spot memorised as he expertly massaged Javier’s frenulum, extracting a guttural moan that reverberated through their chests in tandem.

Horacio’s free hand mapped Javier’s skin, chasing goosebumps with the calloused pads of his fingers as he found friction at the cleft of Javier’s ass. Each touch and motion a tangible reminder he wasn’t here alone this time, that the solid form in his hold and the stubbled cheek grazing against his were real. That they belonged to each other, not as possessions but as mutual choices made again and again.

Javier luxuriated in a delirious limbo, teetering on the verge but never quite there, the need for release visceral in the pit of his stomach. Yet as he trembled and writhed, alternating between pouting his bottom lip and biting it, a part of him was willing to beg to be kept hanging. Because this was what he had wanted when they were separated by oceans and a misplaced sense of duty, and now he had it, he didn’t want to let it go.

Each twitch or convulsion only made Horacio pull Javier closer, gaining extra purchase with the firm grasp at his hip bone, grinding harder but not faster, lost in dragging the head of his cock in agonising circles, from side to side, then up and down, pausing to let it throb in time with their panting. Knowing he could probe further and give them what they needed, but then it would be game over.

So, they resisted, turning shallow breaths into deeper ones, Horacio ceasing movement whenever they neared the point of no return, reeling them back in like a wound-up coil, forcing them to admire the view below as they fought against every instinct in their bodies.

Javier allowed the balcony door to bear some of their weight with one hand splayed across the clinking blinds, pushing back a fraction just to make Horacio groan in his ear and seize the cross dangling from his neck. His other hand clutched Horacio’s arm, neck, shoulder, whichever part of him he could reach, grounding and anchoring them together.

Whenever they almost succumbed, memories of their time apart would re-focus them in the present; where their legs shook, and their toes curled at every new sensation rippling through their joined form, the anticipation of relief battling with remaining in equilibrium, daring each other to prolong the exquisite agony for as long as possible.

But resistance was inevitably futile. With several final jerks of the wrist and hips, they surrendered control, painting Javier with their release from both sides as they gave themselves over to the white-hot bliss cascading through their synapses, each spasm igniting and stoking flame after flame, consuming and burning until they almost blacked out.

Neither moved as the pink haze of the skyline broached the gaps in the blinds and blushed their fevered skin; the dawn air a perfect tonic to the blazing heat between them. A greeting from the light rather than a reluctant acknowledgement after outstaying their welcome in the dark.

Strong arms encased Javier at his front while a rhythmic beat drummed against his back, catching and soothing him in surroundings that were still relatively new. Steady, grounding, home.

“Good morning, by the way,” Horacio said between tender kisses along Javier’s shoulder.

“Hmm, certainly is a good morning.” Javier shifted to face Horacio, sweeping him up with an open-mouthed kiss as addictive as the first one they ever shared, and oh, how far they had come since then. “Is it too early for breakfast?”

“Not when we’ve built up an appetite.” Horacio nibbled at Javier’s lip to emphasise his hunger. “Although, maybe a shower before I make us some coffee?”

Javier nipped back before instigating another searing kiss, barely breaking it to speak again. “Sounds good to me.”

Nothing was particularly extraordinary about the idyllic scene they had started the morning off with. And yet that in itself was extraordinary. Not so long ago, all of this felt out of reach, something to aspire to or hope for, but not something feasible. But here they were, in their shared apartment, embarking on a new chapter together, taking another leap of faith. Not running away from the past but trying to break free from its shackles, one day at a time. 

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Once they had got their bearings in the first few weeks, they began to venture out bit by bit. First, it was walking around the city’s vast green parks, starting with the nearest and working further away from their apartment each time. Then cooking or takeaway turned into dining in a secluded bistro. And watching TV in the apartment became a leisurely stroll around a museum.

Horacio hadn’t felt much like sightseeing when he was here by himself. But things were different now. Everything was different now, even the city itself, from how the early morning light fell on the buildings to the hustle and bustle of Gran Vía. The crowds were still there in their droves. The shoppers and tourists, who would stop in the middle of the pavement with a street map sprawling across their arms, still needed to be sidestepped at the last second. But it was easier to ignore when Javier was by his side.

It was at this point that Horacio knew there was something he was going to have to do. Something he had been putting off, despite it being something he wanted to do. But that didn’t calm the nerves bubbling in his stomach as he took the familiar walk around the corner from their apartment building and down a cobbled side street. Javier had offered to come with him for moral support, but playing it safe seemed the best option, at least this time, just in case.

As he approached the glass door with its seasonal flower arrangements hanging below the red and gold calligraphic Café Romero lettering, it hit him how much his life had changed since he last visited, how much he and Javier had been through. So how reasonable was it to expect everything to be the same here? He swallowed hard as he turned the handle, the bell above the door jangling as it opened.

The interior looked the same as always. Caramel and beige walls complemented the variety of coffees on the menu and the lush green of potted plants decorating the shelves, in between photos of past and present generations of the Romero family. A large window ran along the front, providing extra lighting and an opportunity to people-watch on busier days.

Horacio could see no staff and only customers, but it was early, so the place hadn't filled up yet. In fact, his usual window seat in the corner was still free. Waves of nostalgia layered with relief rolled over him as he sat down facing the counter.

But it didn’t take long for the face he was looking for to appear from the kitchen carrying a fresh batch of napolitanas de chocolate.

A shriek of delight quickly followed once Señora Romero put down her baking tray and raised her head. She brought her hands to her face in surprise, gathering up her apron at the same time as it caught on her fingers. “Horacio?!”

The intonation of her voice suggested it was a question. But she was already crossing the floor of the café with her arms outstretched.

Horacio rose from his table, making it easier for her to scoop him into a hug reminiscent of the ones his Abuela Margarita gave him as a child.

“It’s good to see you, Señora Romero. I hope you’re well.”

She looked well, her silver hair still tied in a messy bun and her rounded figure and freshly stained apron a sign her passion for food hadn’t waned.

“All the better for seeing you.” She lightly squeezed his cheek as she took in his appearance. “Although you might have warned me, I’d have baked more of those milhojas you liked so much last time.”

“Sorry. I’ve not been back long. I’m still sorting out the apartment and trying to remember my way around.”

“Of course, of course. Rest your feet, and I’ll bring you something over. Your usual coffee?”

Horacio smiled at the fact she had remembered his order. “That’d be lovely, thank you.”

The coffee was as delicious as ever, much like the freshly made churros and accompanying hot chocolate, which Señora Romero gave him on the house despite his protests.

She updated Horacio on her family and how Luisa and her husband, Julián, had become parents since their wedding. Their new arrival, Tomás, meant Señora Romero still ran the café, with Luisa helping out occasionally until Tomás was at school.

Señora Romero rushed to grab some photos from behind the counter, showing off her latest grandson. She was in her element and every bit the doting Abuelita.

“Congratulations, I can see the family resemblance,” Horacio said, passing the photos back.

“I said the same to Luisa! He’s definitely got the Romero nose.” She gazed at the picture before shifting her attention back to Horacio. “So, what did I do to deserve the pleasure of your company?”

Horacio scoffed into his cup, creating ripples across the surface of his coffee as he took a sip. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from where we left off?”

Horacio hadn't been looking for sympathy, but naturally, Señora Romero supplied plenty of it, gasping, tutting, and consoling in all the appropriate places when he gave an abridged and redacted version of events since their last meeting.

He spoke more than was ideal about his injury and retirement from the CNP because, by comparison, it was safer ground than the inverted commas silently hugging every use of "friend" a mention of Javier brought.

“Oh, Horacio, my dear. You have been through the wars. How’s your shoulder doing now?”

“Okay, mostly. I still get twinges, but I know I’m lucky.”

“Lucky to have someone like Javier around as well, by the sounds of it.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Even if he had wanted to stop it, the reflexive smile spreading across Horacio’s face was irrepressible.

Señora Romero studied his features intently, beaming in return once she had finished. “And how was life on a ranch?”

“It was…good, actually. I know it’s not the CNP, but I liked the peace and quiet. And the routine. Something always needed doing or fixing.”

“It might not be the CNP, but that sounds much safer and simpler to me.”

“It was. It was good to feel useful again. Like I was making a difference, even if it wasn’t life or death.” Especially if it wasn’t, more like.

“I know you never talked much about it, but I could see how restless you were trapped behind a desk. You’re a man of action, Horacio. I don’t see that changing no matter which path you take.”

The café was busier now, meaning Horacio was left to finish his churros whilst Señora Romero dealt with the start of the breakfast rush.

As he dipped his last churro in the remnants of hot chocolate, it occurred to him that, once upon a time, his father would have been the central focus of this conversation. And, of course, he had wondered what his Papá would have made of his son living and working on a ranch in Texas, of all places. But it was also a moot point. It was an answer he would never get, regardless of how much he wrung his hands about the hypothetical possibility of disappointing his father.

This was about what was best for him and Javier now. The ranch had been their escape from the madness that was slowly killing them. Although Horacio never knew with absolute certainty what caused his Papá’s heart to fail, it was a plausible theory he overworked himself. And that irony sat more comfortably with Horacio these days. Because as much as his Papá had been a role model since Horacio was old enough to understand the word police, he was also a cautionary tale.

When the rush died down, Horacio helped clear some tables. It was the least he could do in exchange for words of wisdom and a complimentary breakfast.

But Señora Romero didn’t stop there and scuttled off behind the counter. She filled a box with an assortment of pastries and cakes, sealed the lid and handed it to Horacio as he moved towards the door.

“Here, my dear. Some more to keep you going. Enough for two, in fact.”

Horacio fumbled for a response beyond thank you as he accepted the box, wishing he could hide inside it as he sensed her eyes still on him.

Señora Romero’s hand lingered on his for a fraction longer than was customary for a simple goodbye.

He looked up to find the same head tilt and gentle smile he was met with in the apartment upstairs almost two years ago. When he was indirectly talking about Javier.

“I meant it when I said don’t be a stranger. You and Javier will always be welcome here.”

The sincerity in her eyes grew sharper, and she gripped his hand. In sympathy? Solidarity? Horacio wasn't sure.

But it put him at ease enough to reciprocate and ask a question now lodged in his throat with no option to swallow it back down. “How did you know?”

“Because there’s a glow about you, Horacio. A glow I remember from a long, long time ago. I might’ve forgotten a lot in my old age, but never that. Not even now it’s just me rattling around upstairs. It doesn’t have to fade, you know. Not if you don’t let it.”

It was a running theme for Horacio’s elders to leave him speechless like this. And it was all he could do to bob his head in acknowledgement, hoping he might be capable of such sage insights one day.

The bell above the door chimed again, signalling the end of their reunion as Señora Romero greeted her new customers, inviting them to sit wherever they liked.

“I think that’s my cue. But thank you, Señora Romero. For everything.”

“Any time. Take care, Horacio. And remember, my door’s always open.”

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Horacio dropped the box of delights on the kitchen counter, the fresh breeze and murmur of traffic revealing that Javier had moved from the bedroom to the balcony since he left.

Javier put the book he was reading down in favour of craning his neck over his shoulder to watch Horacio potter about the kitchen before biting the bullet. “So, how did it go?”

Horacio didn’t speak whilst he concentrated on transferring a couple of ensaimadas onto plates. He then joined Javier, sitting in the empty seat next to him as he offered a plate. “Better than I thought it would. She guessed about us. I didn’t tell her. Somehow she just…knew.”

“How did she take it?”

“I think we’ve got a free supply of these for life.”

They couldn’t help but laugh in unison, more from relief than anything else.

“See, I told you it’d be fine.”

“Yeah. It’s never gonna stop, though, is it?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Every time we meet someone.”

“I say it's nobody’s fucking business unless we decide it is.”

“I spoke to Alejandra yesterday. While you were in the shower.” Horacio paused at his announcement that might have appeared unconnected to their conversation, but Javier knew better. “I let her know I’m back here for now. I couldn’t tell her the rest, though.”

He focused on his plate, poking a fork at the crumbly layers of pastry, hoping to find his courage buried somewhere between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, stop that.” Javier forfeited his plate for leaning closer to Horacio, palm caressing his thigh. “Before Laredo, you said I should only tell Pops if I’m ready. So, there’s no rush, Horacio. Take all the time you need.”

Horacio entwined their fingers on his leg because if anyone understood his apprehension, it was Javier. “I know. I just hate keeping it from her after everything we’ve been through. She would always make me soup if I was sick. And she looked out for me after Papá was gone. She taught me Mamá’s sudado de pollo recipe because it was one of Papá’s favourites. I liked to think I was the man of the house, but she loved reminding me she was my older sister.”

“I bet she did. I saw that a lot with my parents and my Tías and Tíos. Never could decide if I’d have preferred brothers and sisters after they all got together.”

“That’s siblings for you. I didn’t want to shut her – or Mamá – out. But when things got crazy back home, I had no choice.”

“Same with Pops. The worse it got, the more I shut down. But he understood. And…I know I haven’t met them.” Yet, Javier wanted to add but thought better of it. “But they might too.”

“I know.”

“We’ll be okay whatever happens, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” Horacio finally let go of Javier’s hand, knowing if he held on any longer, he’d have given their neighbours something to gossip about.

Instead, he took another bite of his pastry and a swig of the half-drunk coffee from the table where Javier’s abandoned book lay. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Oh, just this.” Javier reached for his Mamá’s poetry book, the pages fluttering in the breeze, the superstitious remnants from his upbringing wanting to believe it was a sign of something other than the weather. “Before we left, I told Pops I wished she’d met you. I don’t know if she ever suspected anything about me, but…I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Maybe not. But for what it’s worth, I wish I’d met her too.”

It had always been a relief for Horacio that his father and Javier never crossed paths, but that was mostly a projection of his own fears. The truth was, he would never know if his Papá suspected anything about him, either.

Once they had finished their ensaimadas, Horacio washed up the plates and a few items waiting by the sink, a routine he performed countless times with Alejandra when they were just about tall enough to reach the taps; before any expectations of who or what he was supposed to be were placed on his shoulders. Memories flooded back of how they would squabble over who got to wash and dry. Although, of course, more often than not, his big sister would pull rank, and in hindsight, he smiled at the possibility that, all those years later, she, rather than their Papá, was what had made his job so appealing.

As he left the clean plates, cups, and cutlery to dry on the draining board, it dawned on him that Alejandra and his Mamá didn’t have to be the same story as his Papá. They didn’t need to be another unfinished, half-written story in which the ending would always elude him, haunt him, or hold him back. Not if Horacio didn’t leave it too late this time.

------------------------------------------------------

Whilst Horacio resumed his early morning runs, they were more like gentle jogs these days. It wasn’t that he had lost his stamina after being put through his paces back on the ranch, but he didn’t feel the need to charge ahead at full pelt anymore. He was more likely to go through a routine of strengthening exercises, to keep his right shoulder from seizing up, and for whenever they decided to head back to Laredo. If that was to become his full-time job, he couldn’t afford to be out of shape.

He left Javier in bed, with plans to meet him at Café Romero for breakfast. It was to be Javier’s first time meeting Señora Romero, which they were confident they had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t quell the butterflies dancing in their stomachs the night before.

It was why Horacio had gone for a run instead of lying awake restless, counting down the hours until he could get up. His muscle memory, rather than his wristwatch, estimated that by the time he jogged one of his usual routes that took him to the outskirts of Casa de Campo park and walked a few blocks to cool down, he would be ready for breakfast.

About three-quarters of the way through his run, having just exited the park, he heard the call of his name. He willed there to be another Horacio jogging passed at the same time, but when his eyes fell upon the source of the voice, he knew he was out of luck.

“Álvaro?” He didn’t know why he asked; he’d spent enough time with Álvaro Molina to recognise his voice anywhere.

Álvaro was a chief inspector in the Spanish CNP. Not a direct parallel to Horacio’s role in Colombia, but close enough. Although Álvaro was never based at the Consulate when Horacio was, they spent plenty of time in the same cross-departmental meetings.

He was a couple of inches taller than Horacio with hazel eyes and unruly dark brown curls that were more mottled with grey than their last meeting. At one time, Álvaro carried almost as much muscle as Horacio, but he had visibly lost weight, his face now gaunt and rough with days’ old stubble.

“How the hell are you?” A hand shook Horacio’s with vigour. “Better than last time, I bet, now that motherfucker’s in the ground.”

“You could say that.”

“What brings you back? They didn’t exile you again, did they?” Álvaro winked, knowing he was on friendly enough terms with Horacio to get away with it.

A scoff and roll of the eyes was Horacio’s response. “No. Actually, it was the other way round this time.”

“Oh? You are a dark horse. Always thought they’d have to force you into retirement when you’re old and grey.”

“Yeah, me too. But I guess things change.”

“Hmm, some more than others.”

“I take it there’s been no let-up in seizures after Medellín folded?”

“Not with Cali waiting in the wings, no.” There was a brittle laugh followed by a shift in Álvaro’s facial expression, the joviality from moments ago now gone and replaced with traces of sleep deprivation.

“That’s the trouble. You cut off one serpent’s head, and two more of the fuckers grow straight back.” Horacio’s words were loaded with a sting of venom at the mention of Cali, closely followed by thoughts of Los Pepes, Stechner and the CIA’s protection of Cali. How could they possibly win when the whole system was corrupt to the core?

“Tell me about it. Listen, I don’t suppose you’ve got time to grab a quick coffee? Hell knows I need one.”

Horacio calculated he had about 15 minutes maximum spare, so, it was doable if he drank fast and didn’t get too involved in shop talk that was no longer his remit.

“Okay, there’s a place just inside Casa de Campo. But you’re buying.”

“Always the cheapskate.”

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Javier glanced up from his newspaper to the clock on the wall. Horacio was technically late; by his own standards, that was. Javier wouldn’t even have noticed if it was anyone else.

He followed Horacio’s instructions on how to get here, even down to picking the window seat in the far corner of the café. It was empty when Javier arrived – five minutes early, which must be a first – so he sat and waited.

Not long after he took a seat, a lady too young to be Señora Romero came to greet him with a friendly smile, ready to take his order.

Javier went with a café solo for each of them, saving the food order for when Horacio arrived.

Even when speaking in short sentences, Javier was self-conscious of his accent here, sometimes forgetting to adjust his pronunciation or pick a different word than he was used to. Of course, it had been the same when he arrived in Colombia and Horacio in Texas. A cultural exchange that led to many late-night conversations – and the occasional argument – about dialect differences. But that was the versatility of the Spanish language.

The same waitress brought the drinks over, although an older woman had joined her who was now clearing the adjacent table. The family resemblance between the two women was undeniable, so Javier assumed this must be Señora Romero and…Luisa, did Horacio say? He kept quiet for now, just in case he was wrong. Nor did he want to steal Horacio’s thunder with introductions.

As Javier thanked Luisa and explained the second cup was for someone meeting him shortly, Señora Romero ceased wiping a cloth across the emptied table, her ears pricking up at an accent she didn’t hear too often.

Not that Javier noticed as his eyes darted to the door, up to the clock and down to the paper with a heavy sigh.

He got through one and a half news stories when Señora Romero made her move from watching Javier curiously from behind the counter to standing by his table.

“It’s not like him to be late, is it?”

Javier was startled out of his newspaper and looked up, where rich shades of chestnut and cinnamon collided for the first time. “How—?” was about all he managed to stutter out.

Señora Romero sat opposite Javier, where Horacio should have been sitting. “Ever since his first visit, he went straight for this table. It is a nice spot, though. He always read his papers and ordered a café solo every time.” She smiled affectionately at the coffee cups on the table like they were an old friend. “Plus, he told me about Laredo. So, I wasn’t expecting another Colombian accent.”

“I’m impressed. We could’ve done with more people like you in Colombia. And I was under strict instructions to pick this table. But you’re right; it’s not like him to be late.”

There was no doubt a logical explanation for Horacio’s absence. But Javier couldn’t stop his fingers from fidgeting around the handle of his cup or his knee from bouncing under the table and causing an earthquake.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s on his way, dear. Did he go for one of his pre-breakfast runs?”

There was something comforting about Señora Romero’s familiarity with Horacio’s routines, even though Javier had never met her before. It gave them a mutual talking point and a connection beyond the usual dry small talk. “Bingo.”

“Of course! He was one of my most loyal regulars. I did miss seeing him in here after he left.”

“He’s talked about you and this place a lot. So, I’d say the feeling’s mutual.”

“Bless you, my dear. I’m glad our paths crossed. But I’ve no doubt he ended up where he belonged.”

Heat bloomed in Javier’s face and chest as Señora Romero gave him a pointed look followed by a flash of a wink. And he couldn’t help but feel sheepish that he and Horacio had ever worried about her reaction in the first place.

It took his mind off things until his gaze fell back on the clock, and he saw another five minutes had passed. Where the fuck was he? No, Javier couldn’t think like that. It was stupid and unnecessary at this stage. He just needed to focus on the pleasant conversation he was having now. So, he tried again.

This time, he asked questions about Señora Romero’s family and, during a lull in the breakfast rush, was introduced to Luisa as a friend of Horacio’s. If Luisa suspected anything, she took it in the same stride as her mother.

Next came the family photos, including plenty of Tomás, naturally. An album's worth of photos was scattered across the table, allowing Señora Romero to guide Javier through each one as though she was delivering a presentation. But as someone with a large extended family, Javier didn’t mind and even interjected with anecdotes about his own relatives.

After a tilt of his head and a sip of his coffee, Javier brought the cup down to the photo-covered table with a sense of déjà vu. It took him out of the moment and forced him to close his eyes, trying to blink away his sudden change in mood. But then, a wave of cheap perfume filled his senses. And Señora Romero’s finger pointing at the pictures was younger and manicured. The photo she placed in his hand wasn’t the many generations of the Romero family posing in front of the café; it was one of the long-lens photos of Javier and Horacio.

He blinked hard enough to see spots, allowing his vision to gradually re-focus on the safety of the photo in his hand rather than the violating one burnt into his memory. He tried not to think about those images, and for the most part, he succeeded these days. But occasionally, his brain would taunt him, reminding him how paralysed he was by the possible consequences. By the fact he put Horacio in so much danger and couldn’t even tell him about it or be with him. By the fact he and Steve were glorified puppets to the likes of Stechner whilst the CIA was up to its neck in corruption.

“These, er, these are all beautiful,” he managed to get out, hoping that the last few seconds had gone unnoticed, as unlikely as that was.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else while you wait, dear?”

That was the next question Javier heard, but he couldn’t be sure if he had zoned out and missed a whole chunk of conversation.

"Er, no, thanks, I'm good."

Without meaning to, his eyes scanned between the clock and the door again, an irrational hope taking hold that if he stared at either long enough, he could make Horacio appear by sheer willpower alone. However, as the second hand on the clock ticked and ticked, he was back in that damn hospital bed. Waiting, waiting, waiting. That was all he could do, unable to get comfortable as each movement was a red-hot poker jabbing in his ribs. But he would take that any day over the crushing, suffocating, nauseating dread that weighed on his chest like a foreshadowing of death. Not his death, although it would have been in all but name if the pendulum of fate had swung the other way.

“Javier? Are you alright, my dear?”

Javier was back in the café, a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin as he tried to shove whatever the fuck that was back in its box. “Er, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Why don’t I pour us some lemonade upstairs once you’ve finished your coffee? I’ll ask Luisa to send Horacio up when he gets here.”

Javier expected his instincts to push him towards the door and back to the apartment, but they didn’t. Instead, they saw the genuine concern on Señora Romero’s face and the kindness in her gesture. They saw the glimmer of faded memories of his Mamá taking care of him, knowing this wasn’t the same, but also that it didn’t need to be. And so he did the only thing he could.

“That’d be good, thanks.”

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Álvaro brought over two coffees from the kiosk by the park entrance to a nearby seating area of tables and chairs. The previous day’s rain still clung to the stainless steel furniture and explained why there weren’t as many people around them as on a scorching hot day. But that worked in their favour.

They sat opposite each other across a table suffering from a wobbly leg, Horacio in his jogging pants and a somewhat sweaty t-shirt, and Álvaro apparently in yesterday's suit, shirt and skewwhiff tie, if their crumpled appearance and less than fresh aroma were anything to go by. A far cry from the pristine CNP-issued uniforms and tailored suits picked out by Álvaro’s wife their last meeting saw them wearing.

As Horacio took a sip of coffee, he noticed Álvaro reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and pull out a hip flask.

Álvaro lifted the plastic lid from his cup, poured a generous measure from the flask and offered the same to Horacio.

Horacio raised his hand and shook his head. “Bit early for me.”

They made small talk, Horacio managing to be as vague as possible regarding his reasons for living here again. “Taking a break in a beautiful city” and “Catching up with old friends” were about the gist of it. But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information the first time, so his stunted replies weren’t out of character.

Álvaro was equally brief about the details of his life, which was out of character now Horacio thought about it. Álvaro used to talk about his family as much as his work. His wife was his rock, his kids were his pride and joy, and his brother was progressing at pace through the military ranks. But this time, he confirmed they were doing well and left it at that before getting down to business.

“An anonymous tip-off recently fell into the DEA’s lap. Lots of juicy details about Cali. The gringos are working their way through the intel, and it flagged up more links to our old friends in Galicia. There were sightings of Pacho Herrera up there, plus some of his associates are based in Madrid. So that’s opened a huge fucking can of worms.”

Horacio had a terrible time trying to stifle a reaction to the mention of a tip-off. There was nothing 'anonymous' about it from the DEA’s point of view, not even when it came to the intel's delivery.

The last time he was here, the Galician traffickers were working with Escobar. And whilst Horacio’s redeployment was conducted from behind a desk for the majority, his colleagues had chewed his ear off about various Colombian names that came up in reports or wiretaps. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that the Spanish clans had moved on to Cali.

Álvaro lit a cigarette as he talked, offering up a second one from his almost-empty carton.

But Horacio declined, instead taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds promising. But Álvaro, Cali is a different beast to Medellín. They’re more discreet, professional, and they have powerful friends in high places.”

“I know. But we have to try, right? Look at Operación Nécora. Sooner or later, someone gets sloppy, drops the ball, turns on one of their own, or kills the wrong person. And then we win.”

Watching Álvaro chug back his Irish coffee in one hand with a smouldering cigarette perched in his other was like looking in a mirror to the past. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.

When Horacio was in the fray, it had been too easy to focus solely on the case in front of him, convincing himself it would all be over soon if he just shut down one more lab and seized one more kilo or wad of cash. Or tortured one more suspect. But it was never enough and never would be. He had been fighting a losing battle that had no likely ending in sight, even if the individuals and locations were a perpetual revolving door.

“I’m not sure there are winners in any of this,” he said, the resignation heavy in his tone.

“Shit, you really have changed.”

“Maybe.”

“Last time I saw you, you were raining fire and brimstone upon the narcos. What the fuck happened?”

“Do you know how many funerals I’ve been to, Álvaro? Or how many people I’ve killed? Because I don’t. I stopped counting. Then Escobar tried to have me killed – and nearly succeeded.”

“Woah, woah, what?”

“I took a bullet here,” Horacio gestured to his right shoulder, “and nearly bled out. The doctors said I was lucky I was brought in so fast.” Although Horacio knew a lot more than luck was involved.

“Shit, Horacio.”

“Yeah. So, it’s easy for you to keep fighting when you haven’t lost as many times as I have.”

“Because no one else could possibly have lost anything as well, right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sounded like it to me. And you’ve got no fucking idea.” Álvaro slammed his cup down on the table, the force of its impact splashing coffee droplets in all directions.

Horacio opted not to make a fuss but he could have sworn he saw the reflection of tears in Álvaro’s eyes as they focused on their drinks in silence. “Did something happen?”

“What gave it away?” Álvaro gestured towards himself, acknowledging his worse-for-wear state. He leaned his elbow on the table, head held in his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. “There was another bombing. Last June. An army transporter was targeted by 40 kilos of explosives left in a parked car. My brother, Jaime, was...he was there…and didn’t make it.”

“Fuck, Álvaro. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Except, in a roundabout way, he did have some idea. Because back in Colombia, it was Horacio who delivered such news to countless families like the Molinas.

“No, well, you wouldn’t.” He took out the hip flask again, draining whatever was left into his coffee cup and knocking it back. “Not least of all because I lied about him earlier. Sorry about that, by the way. Still not very good at this sort of thing.”

“No, of course. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Your dad was a cop too, right? Before he…passed away.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“I remember you telling me. It was about the only thing I got out of you, come to think of it.”

Half a rebellious smile broke through Horacio’s tightly pursed lips. “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing either.”

“But you are now?”

“Better than I was. Better now I’m not trying to be him. Now I realise he was as flawed as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, trying to follow in the footsteps of a high-achiever in the family will fuck you up for life. Or so I’ve heard.”

Horacio didn’t know a lot about Jaime but was aware he was 10 years older than Álvaro. From the way Álvaro talked, it was clear how much he hero-worshipped his big brother. And if anyone knew the pitfalls of such high pedestals, it was Horacio.

“Sounds familiar. As much as I’ve always missed him, I was glad he never saw me at my worst.”

“All I wanted was for Jaime to be proud of me, and I think he was.” Álvaro’s eyes lit up, and for the first time during their conversation, the wrinkles of his smile reached them. “But I’m not sure he’d even recognise me if he saw me now.”

“The paradox of grief.”

“What?”

Another smile crept over Horacio’s face. “Just something someone once said to me. Whatever you do, it’ll never feel enough now he’s gone.”

“Never thought of it like that. But it’s not just a dead man I’m letting down. My wife tried so hard with me; she really did. But…the nightmares started. They were always about trying to save Jaime, but I couldn’t. So I drank ‘til I was comatose. Then work got crazy and things spiralled. She didn’t think it was good for me to be around the kids, and well, I can’t argue with that.”

Álvaro unloaded a jumble of words in one fell swoop, catching Horacio off guard as he tried to take it all in. But it wasn’t as though it was unfamiliar territory for him. It wasn’t as though he had no experiences of his own to share, experiences he had only ever opened up to Javier about until now.

“That was my life, for a long time, without the wife and kids, obviously. But the nightmares and the drinking got bad after I...I accidentally killed someone I was sent to rescue.”

“Shit, Horacio. You never said anything when you were – wait a minute – is that why you were here in the first place?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Horacio let out a hollow laugh at the fact the death of Diana Turbay wasn’t his superiors’ red line. “I’m sure it didn’t help my cause, but the final straw came when I led a raid on a nightclub. We took down some high-level sicarios, but a bystander got caught in the crossfire.”

“Fuck. There were so many rumours about you, no one knew what to believe. I heard you took out Escobar’s cousin, but surely they wouldn’t exile a hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero, Álvaro.”

“Ha! So, it was true.”

Horacio said nothing, his silence giving Álvaro the answer he was looking for.

“You can’t tell me you’re sorry about that.”

“I’m not. And I don’t regret everything I did.” It was the truth. He wasn’t trying to atone for some of those fuckers getting what they deserved. They weren’t why he walked away. “But you know what they say…old sins cast long shadows. These things stay with you, whether you’re the one killing or it’s the people around you being killed.”

“So, what are you saying? That it’s too late for damaged goods like us?” There was a desperate crack in Álvaro’s voice as though he was looking to Horacio to confirm his fears and put him out of his misery once and for all.

“You probably don’t want to hear it right now, but…it doesn’t always have to be like this. It’s not easy, and it takes time, but it can get better.”

“You’re right. I didn’t want to hear that.” Álvaro kept his features neutral until he caught Horacio’s eye and they both laughed, because what else could they do?

“Neither did I, for years. Because it felt impossible. But no amount of punishing yourself will bring him back or change the past.”

“There’s quite a team set up now,” Álvaro continued after a long silence, as though he hadn’t heard a single word Horacio had said. “From your end, our end, the DEA, Interpol, the SVA. You name it, we’ve got fingers in the pie. And there’s always room for more.”

Álvaro looked at Horacio with great expectation, waiting for an answer to an unspoken question until he could wait no more. “Horacio, you know what it’s like more than most dealing with these people. And you remember how it was last time. Couldn’t so much as talk about the weather without it getting back to someone up there.”

That much was true. The situation in Galicia was eerily reminiscent of Medellín. Homegrown police taking bribes left, right and centre and passing on intel to the trafficking clans. Politicians’ and judges’ integrity in tatters because they, too, turned a blind eye. The Colombian cartels made Galicia their gateway into Europe. And their success was thanks to the layer upon layer of corruption that was allowed to exist.

“No.”

“Come on, at least think about it. There’d be none of that pen-pushing bullshit this time. You could be out in the field again, it’d be just like the old days back in—”

“Álvaro, I said no.” Horacio didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to with how his steely glare and steadfast jaw framed his face. “I’m done with it for good. End of story.”

Álvaro raised his arms in surrender, his second cigarette of their meeting now burning between his fingers. “Alright, alright, I get the message. Can’t blame me for asking now I know you’re back.” He raised the cigarette to his lips, regarding Horacio with increasing intrigue through the wisps of smoke hanging between them. “So, who is it, then?”

“What?”

“Whoever’s convinced you to quit and move here. Must be serious. And don’t lie because I know there’s someone.”

“Your interrogation skills need more work, Molina. And on that note, I better be going. You’re making me late for an appointment.”

“Nice deflection there, Carrillo. I’m just saying; they must be the love of your fucking life to give it all up.”

There was a scrape of metal against the floor as Horacio rose from his chair, not dignifying Álvaro’s prying with a response, even though it was the naked truth.

“Alright, fine, fine! I can take a hint. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.” Álvaro brought a hand to his lips, ‘zipping’ them closed with his thumb and forefinger.

Horacio sat back down with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Good for you, in fact. It’s hard enough to find someone like that in the first place, but to hold onto them and make it work? Nothing short of a fucking miracle. But you know where I am if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, but I won’t.”

“Thought you might say that.”

“If you ever change your mind, please think about what I said. You can’t run away from this. No matter how much you bury your head in your job. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I can’t make any promises, Horacio. You know how it is.”

Of course, he knew; that was precisely why he was saying it in the first place. But he also knew there was no point pushing it any further. “It was good to see you, Álvaro. And I am sorry about Jaime.”

“Me too. And er, thanks. For listening and everything. I really appreciate it. Although, I gotta ask, when did you get so fucking wise?”

Horacio laughed, assured there was no malice in Álvaro’s teasing, and because he had apparently accomplished what he was expecting to wait years, if not decades to do. “I’m afraid I can’t take all the credit.”

“Should’ve known. Good to see you, Horacio. Don’t leave it so long next time. And I hate to say it, but retirement already suits you.”

“Thanks, I think. Take care of yourself.”

They stood up from the table, deposited their empty cups in a nearby bin and walked back to the entrance that took them onto the main road.

After shaking hands, they went their separate ways, Horacio in one direction and Álvaro in the opposite.

It wasn’t long ago that Horacio lamented turning his back on the CNP. But as he broke into a run to mitigate his uncharacteristic lateness, he caught glimpses of familiar church spires towering over every other building. They had been a comforting backdrop to his guilt and shame, and whilst he would always carry them around for certain deeds, it wasn’t a place he ever wanted to revisit. And the next time his lapel pins found themselves between his fingers, or Trujillo still called him Colonel out of habit, he would be reminded it was okay to miss something but never want it back.

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Javier sat stiffly on Señora Romero’s floral sofa, clenching and unclenching his fists to distract himself from the creeping sense of embarrassment setting in.

Señora Romero joined him in the neighbouring chair, a tray of lemonade and a selection of pastries from downstairs placed between them on the table.

“Have you eaten anything this morning, dear?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, that won’t do. Here, take some. Don’t be shy.” She practically shoved the plate at Javier, stopping short of placing one of the pastries in his mouth.

“Thanks. And sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“From what Horacio told me, I’d say it’s understandable. For both of you.” Señora Romero gave the tall jug of lemonade a final stir, then poured it into two ice-filled tumblers, handing one to Javier and settling back in her chair.

Javier thanked her as he accepted a glass, wasting no time quenching his dry mouth.

“And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Señora Romero continued. “My country went from the Civil War to Franco for over three decades. Not to mention the violence in the Basque region, and the bombings here, of course. People don’t like to talk about it much, but the scars are still as plain as day.”

Javier wasn’t exactly an expert in Spanish history, but he knew the basics. And hearing them listed together suddenly made his experiences seem tame by comparison. Not that he thought for a second that was Señora Romero’s intention, but it gave him a large dose of perspective.

“I never talked to anyone before Horacio, to be honest. Same for him with me, but it took me longer to get there.”

“My husband rarely told me what he’d seen and done in the war. He thought I wouldn’t understand, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t. But we survived the same storm in the end, even though we were sometimes in different boats.”

“It was a while ‘til we were in the same boat. Even now, sometimes we’re not,” Javier said as his mind drifted with a smile to their conflicting views and priorities over the years.

In theory, it shouldn’t have gone the way it did. They may have shared the same broad goal in Colombia, but they came at it from different angles. They weren’t supposed to trust and understand each other more than anyone else. They weren’t supposed to walk away from their all-consuming careers for each other, and they certainly weren’t supposed to fall in love. But life had a funny way of working out.

As for their current situation, they were dealing with things in their own way and in their own time. It was never going to be something they could coordinate. But even so, it frustrated Javier when he spiralled seemingly out of nowhere. Except, was it really out of nowhere? It was all a blur now.

“In my experience, sometimes you can’t be,” Señora Romero said. “And sometimes, you won’t want to be. Sometimes, you float alongside each other in your own boats. And sometimes, it’s good enough just to sail in the same direction at different paces.”

“He’s never late. And I guess it’s force of habit to assume the worst.” Javier wasn’t expecting to say that, but it was like someone had just removed their foot from his chest. It was an admission to himself as much as Señora Romero, confirmation that it hadn’t been out of nowhere at all.

Señora Romero merely nodded, giving Javier the space to continue if he wanted to.

“On the night of the ambush, Steve – my partner – and I weren’t supposed to be there. I’m not sure we were ever supposed to be in Colombia, to be honest.”

Javier stopped to let out a sceptical sneer as snippets of his encounters with Stechner replayed in his head. For all he knew, Stechner could have orchestrated his entire career, manoeuvring him around like a pawn on a chessboard.

“But we disobeyed orders and followed Horacio anyway. And then we, er…we heard gunfire and screaming over the radio. It was the longest car journey of my life.” He took another sip of his drink and a deep breath, determined to finish now he’d started. “It was the same at the hospital and after the bombing here. Always waiting, but never knowing where he was or if he was okay.”

“Oh, Javier, my dear, it makes complete sense you would think the worst. I would be the same in your shoes. But you have to remember, he’s a civilian now. He’s not a target anymore. The ETA bombings here have been directed at the Spanish authorities.”

Señora Romero leaned forwards until her hand met Javier’s. Shades of chestnut connected with cinnamon again as he squeezed as a gesture of thanks. Neither appeared fazed by this being their first meeting, perhaps finding it easier because they simultaneously didn’t know much about each other but enough to no longer be strangers.

“And for what it’s worth,” she continued, “regardless of the rights or wrongs of your government’s involvement in foreign affairs, it seems you were exactly where you were supposed to be that night.”

Touché. He couldn’t argue with that, the irony apparent of Steve previously framing Javier’s need to follow Horacio as a warning rather than a calling.

“I may have only just met you, Javier, but I know what you did for Horacio that night was a brave act of love. Wanting to help is an honourable trait, don’t ever forget that. But you might find you’re not worrying yourself sick so much once you’re focused on helping others again. And someone out there will always need it, wherever life takes you next.”

Javier scoffed before gulping down the rest of his lemonade. “I think that’s the problem.”

Señora Romero’s hosting instincts kicked in as she re-filled Javier’s glass.

“Thanks. Horacio got out a year before me and settled in working on my Pop’s ranch. Way more than I ever did.” Javier cringed at some of the memories of him in his pre-police days attempting various jobs that Horacio took to like a duck to water, whereas he had floundered.

“Is that what he wants to do?”

“I think so. Which is great; he’s a natural. It suits him.”

“But you don’t know what’s next for you?”

“Not a clue.” Not a fucking clue was more accurate, but he caught himself just in time.

“Do you need to have it figured out yet?”

“Well, no, not yet. We’re okay financially for now. But I know it can’t last forever.”

“There’s plenty of time between now and forever, Javier.” Señora Romero lowered her voice as though she was letting him in on a coveted secret. “At your age, anyway. Less so at mine, but I take each day as it comes.”

“What’s that like?”

“There are good days and bad days. And bad weeks, months and years, come to think of it. Days when my body doesn’t do what my mind tells it to do. Days when my mind is frail, and my heart is sore. But on other days, I’ll spend time with the family. Or my piononos will come out better than they did last time. Or I’ll make new friends in unusual circumstances.” She winked in Javier’s direction. “I think the bad days are just part of life’s rich tapestry. Especially where healing wounds are concerned.”

Occasional reminders of the past – or bad days – scattered amongst the simple pleasures sounded suspiciously like their time in Madrid so far. But maybe that was okay. Maybe, that was part of the process of moving on with their lives. Maybe, progress was supposed to be subtle and non-linear, almost imperceptible unless you knew what you were looking for.

No sooner had Javier got his head around that prospect than there was a knock at the door followed by a heartfelt apology, given and accepted with a look as much as words.

Of course, Señora Romero had been right, and there was no life-or-death emergency to attend to. But any embarrassment on Javier’s part was overridden by the relief his fears were unfounded, and he would gladly take an anxious mind rather than the alternative.

Pulses returned to baseline as the trio talked, albeit Horacio’s for a different reason than Javier's.

Whilst Madrid wasn’t Laredo, they couldn’t take acceptance for granted wherever they were. But as they returned downstairs, where Señora Romero removed the ‘Reserved’ sign from their corner table and offered them yet another breakfast on the house, a weight lifted from Horacio’s shoulders. Because the first real friend he made here had welcomed him and Javier into her home and business with open arms.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[ask-de-writer]

Return to the Master Story Index

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SUBMARINE! 1812 an Alternate History

Chapter 6 : KRAKEN

(Part 4 of 5)

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5462 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.

Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

A hand bearing a glass of whisky emerged from the crowd. Only as he was taking it did Sir Lional notice that he was facing the sparkling eyes of Jean, Count du Coucy, Ambassador of France. It was a battle, but he kept his composure.

“Did you know of this?” he inquired, gesturing at the name-board.

“No,” said Jean. “I knew that the missiles were to be shown tonight and came for that. I also came to see my old school chum, Lt. Tecumsah. He should be ranked higher, you know.”

“Actually, I do know. I have followed his career with interest, because of his relationship to the President. He refuses to use that relationship for advancement, which is truly admirable, if somewhat foolish.”

“He said that you had been getting reports of Continental rocket experiments for nearly ten years. Do you already know what we are going to see tonight?”

“I confess to mystification. My agents have reported no missiles that could do what I know is being done. I nearly let my feelings sway me from my duty. That, I have never done before. Did you hear him threaten Great Britain itself? ”

“The Natives call him the Eagle and say that he does not lie. I would fear invasion, if I were in your place.”

They were interrupted by a liveried servant who announced loudly, “Gentlemen and Ladies, a demonstration has been set up in Freedom Square for your information and entertainment. Please come out to the square and observe it.”

People flocked out into the darkness of the square and found that a section had been roped off and lit with torches. The flames cast flickering light and shadows off four rockets of different sizes standing upright on launcher rails with guide tubes reaching above them. A Green Jacket Marine stood by them with a lit slow match.

Someone at the forefront of the crowd called out, “What are those things?”

Some other of the jostling mass piped up, “If they had guide sticks, I’d say that they were rockets! But you can’t make rockets as big as that ten foot monster! Congreve’s biggest ones are only five or six feet long. I’ve seen ‘em and I know how big they are.”

A hush fell over the crowd as President Arnold limped with his cane to the center of the roped area. It was obvious to all that his old leg wound from the second battle of Ontario was giving him pain again. He brought himself erect by sheer will power and addressed the crowd.

“You have all heard of our great success against the British Navy. Some of you have heard rumors that we had a secret weapon that we used to our great advantage. Some of those rumors had a grain of truth. As you all know, the British have been using the Congreve rocket to devastating effect. We have developed a few missiles of our own.” He gestured behind him at the rockets, the torch flames lending an almost diabolical look to his features.

“These have been fitted with pyrotechnic warheads for this demonstration. The smallest one here, is the Shrike. Its combat range is about nine hundred yards, and fifteen of them with their launcher can be carried by two men to any battlefield point of advantage.

“The next one, here, is the Hawk. Its range is about 2,500 yards and five of them and their launcher can be carried by two men, anyplace that two men can go on foot. They have interchangeable warheads. Concussion, incendiary, and shrapnel warheads can be delivered to any point in their range.

“This seven foot missile is the Eagle. One horse can carry six Eagles and their launcher to any place that you can get a horse. Their interchangeable warheads can be delivered up to seven miles.

“The Albatross is intended to lay siege to cities. Its warheads can be sent as far as fifteen miles. They need to be carried by wagon.

“You have now heard enough. See for yourselves what we have wrought. Sargent, send them up!”

The smoldering rope of the slow match was applied to the fuse of the Shrike and the Sargent disappeared in a cloud of smoke, lit briefly from within by the flame of the rocket’s exhaust. Suddenly, the rocket was a streak of fire headed for the zenith, trailing smoke. The flame went out and nothing more was seen for long seconds. A brilliant starburst of green filled the sky, followed shortly by the concussion of its detonation.

With innate showmanship, the Sargent launched the Hawk just as the Shrike’s burst filled the night sky. Its trail of flame and smoke rose up through the center of the green flower of sparks. It went out farther up than the Shrike had managed to get. Again, there was a pause of long seconds. Its red flare framed the Shrike’s green one. As the audience was going, “Ahhh!” the sound of the blast smote down, drowning everything.

The Eagle’s launch made a definite hissing roar as it streaked up, up, through both previous pyrotechnic stars. It seemed to dwindle against the heavens, finally winking out. Once again came the pause, longer this time. People were beginning to question whether it might be a dud, when it blasted a ring of blue into the night sky. It was ten long seconds before the sound reached the ground.

The Albatross launched with a bang, followed by a hissing scream that diminished as the missile climbed into the heavens. It left a choking cloud of sulfurous smoke behind. We did not actually see it burn out. It was out of sight by then. Over forty five seconds later its end was announced by a brilliant white flare. It was another forty seconds before the distant roar of its detonation came to us, not once, but many times, echoed off the hills around the town.

I had made it my business to be standing where I could observe Sir Lional. The faces of the crowd were filled with wonder and delight, some were thoughtful as they realized what they were seeing. Sir Lional understood perfectly what he had just seen and his face, unguarded for the moment, registered both shock and horror. It was a struggle for him to get his features under control. He turned to me.

“So, this is the truth of Cuttlefish? Lt. Tecumsah, I have rarely been duped before.” He actually held out his hand, which I shook. “I acknowledge a master.”

To be continued

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#Submarine! 1812 Chap 6 #Part 4 of 5) #Science Fiction #Alternate History #Written by De Writer

[rxin3akamallory]

Howdy!

(I am Taiga Aisaka irl lol)

I finally decided to make an intro on this account because it’s inconsistent as hell even though it’s my main one.

But yeah hello!

I’m Mallory (people call me Mal a lot) I’m a goofy ahh autistic 21 year old

She/Her are my preferred pronouns, but I’m okay with They/Them as well if it’s easier for you to use.

I’m biromantic/asexual

I’m not in college but I’ve been working for nearly a year now! It takes up half of my time but I’m still free decently often.

I like to draw, write, make OCs and self inserts, play video games, sing and listen to music. I sometimes post my art and characters occasionally but not often on here. (I should tho)

This is my main tumblr where I used to post strictly Finding Nemo related posts but my fixation had faded out since 2021 (I still love the movie and it’s sequel but it hasn’t been my main interest anymore)

Here are my other tumblrs if they’re interesting enough to take a look at.

Second tumblr: @rxin3srandomthoughts

Meme tumblr: @rxin3smemes

Aesthetic tumblr (kinda defunct now): @rxin3saesthetics

Stim tumblr (the one I use most often besides my main): @rxin3stims

I have a large DNI list on my stim tumblr, but I’ll put a general one here too. It’s also in my bio:

DNI if:

A nsfw/k!nk blog

Racist

Homophobic

Transphobic

Ablelist

And a personal one, if you romanticize serial k!ll3rs or sh00t3rs. Big on the latter because of personal trauma and because that monster has been romanticized here before and on other platforms on the internet and I find it not only disturbing and horrifying but also disrespectful to the victims, their families, and the survivors.

If you fit under any of this criteria, you will immediately be blocked.

A lot of my content is OC related, so here is a list of ‘em!!

Self Inserts (1)

Self Inserts (2)

Self Inserts (3)

Moodboards: 1, 2, 3

Self Insertmas 2023: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20, Day 21, Day 22, Day 23

Self Insert Birthday Countdown 2024: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, Day 10, Day 11, Day 12, Day 13, Day 14, Day 15, Day 16, Day 17, Day 18, Day 19, Day 20, Day 21, Day 22, Day 23, Day 24

I also have a lot of special interests and fixations! Here’s a “small” list of a majority of them to get to know me:

Non film/tv:

Tennessee (Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge specifically!) Literally my comfort place. I love when I get to visit sm!!)

OneRepublic (My favorite band!)

Littlest Pet Shop

Bunnies!

Film:

Wreck-It Ralph (only the first film)

Frozen (mainly only the first film)

Big Hero 6 (also the manga and the tv series)

Encanto

Finding Nemo/Finding Dory

Cars (1-3)

Onward

Guardians of the Galaxy (and the tv series and the 2021 game)

(Current fixation! Rocket is my bf fr /hj)

Jurassic Park/Jurassic World

The Florida Project

Madagascar (1-3)

Rise of the Guardians

Ice Age (1-4)

Rio (mainly the first film)

Sing (mainly Sing 2 only)

The Mario Movie (2023)

Vivo

The Muppets (specifically modern, 2011-2015)

TV:

The Fairly Oddparents (Seasons 1-5)

The Powerpuff Girls (1998 only)

The Office (US only)

My Little Pony (I haven’t finished it Friendship is Magic, I mainly fixate on the 2017 movie and the 2021 film from Gen 5)

Bluey

Fish Hooks

Green Eggs & Ham (Netflix)

Smiling Friends

Thomas and Friends (before CGI era)

The Peanuts (I didn’t know where to put it so it’s here lmao)

Video Games:

Animal Crossing (Mainly New Leaf and New Horizons)

Mario Kart (Mainly 7 and 8)

Mario Party (Mainly Superstars and Island Tour)

Animal Jam

Detroit: Become Human (My favorite!)

Cuphead (I never finished the show but I should)

BlazBlue (Mainly Chronophantasma and Crosstag Battle. And the anime Alter Memory)

Arcana Heart (Mainly 3 Love Max!!!)

Five Nights at Freddy’s (I don’t think it counts because I never played the actual games but I’ve watched so many play throughs)

Anime:

Studio Ghibli in general (I’ve not seen every film though)

Cardcaptor Sakura

Tokyo Mew Mew (I need to watch the reboot!)

Lucky Star

Toradora (my favorite!)

Madoka Magica (I need to finish Record! And I can’t wait for the next movie!)

Smile Precure (watched it because Glitter Force sucked)

Himouto! Umaru-Chan

The Quintessential Quintuplets

Rent-A Girlfriend

BNA: Brand New Animal

Fruits Basket

My Love Story

Ouran Highschool Hostclub

Love Chunibyo and Other Delusions

True Tears

Wotakoi: Love is hard for Otaku

Maid Sama

(There’s more but this is all I got in in my head rn)

Ask Answers!!

★

Well that’s pretty much it!

I hope you like my account where I occasionally post actual stuff and mainly reblog things from my interests lol

[mangedog]

I’m sorry to say it, but I have serious doubts about this protest working. I’ve been on this site for 5-6 years and was part of a blackout protest, and I’m here to say it did absolutely nothing. The management is near impossible to do, and not everyone—even those who follow you and can have a high chance of seeing the posts or reblogs of the posts warning of/explaining the blackout—will see it (several people I knew didn’t even see the posts until a day after the protest, and genuinely had no idea it was happening despite several reblogs of the subject and the silence I had the day of the protest), leading to a very poorly made and poorly executed protest that does untimely nothing. I’m also concerned about the fact that you don’t seem to have any sort of communication or semblance of management planned whatsoever, nor any solid game plan for this protest. I know you said you didn’t think that far ahead, but it’s concerning to see it reach so many people with so little game plan, especially when you seem very confident it’ll work despite all this under such a short time span. Tumblr also doesn’t work well when it comes to blackout protests period, going silent doesn’t change much, but raising a fuss does.

I know someone said that “complaining directly to staff doesn’t work” but I’d like to point out that it can! It just needs a lot of power behind it. There need to be a lot of people complaining (and complaining respectfully, being a dick likely results in stuff getting filtered out and ignored), and if there are, staff, despite their faults, will usually have to at least acknowledge the complaints being made. This happened back when they moved the profile button, in which so many people raised a fuss that they quickly backpedaled and put it back where it belonged. Sure, even the statement they made had it’s faults, but it did work and worked well enough to make them change their minds and revert the changes made. Blackout protesting won’t get us anywhere, but raising a fuss—and a big one at that—will.

Also, if I may add: the porn ban and tumblr live shouldn’t be included in the protest. Both are entirely outside user control. The porn ban has been explained: it’s entirely controlled by the TOS from Apple, Android/Google, and the countless advertisers. When they introduced Community Labels to combat some of the porn ban and allow (for the most part) non-sexualized nudity, they nearly got taken off of the Apple AppStore as a result, and I believe they rushed the labels to prevent this, hence why said labels were so buggy at first. Tumblr Live I’m 99% sure is under contract, and the only folks affected by it are in the US to my knowledge. Removing it entirely and/or adding a permanent snooze feature likely goes against the contract and would lead to legal trouble. I’m assuming it’s a 1 year contract, which means until we reach the 1 year anniversary of live being added, we literally can’t do anything to stop it from existing. Once we get towards that point (or staff brings up whether or not it should stay, if that happens before then), raising a big fuss over getting rid of it would be ideal, as the user feedback, on top of the lack of it being profitable, will likely make them decline renewing the contract and will result in them getting rid of live altogether.

in general, i agree with you. tbh my suggestion was just that, a suggestion, i just forgot i was posting on the anti reading comprehension website lol /joking. regardless, the point of a blackout is to signal to staff that users are unhappy. communicating directly with staff is the goal, and one that's already being worked towards (see my pinned masterpost)

and i also agree wrt the porn ban, & other people have also spoken about it. i just think that, with the introduction of community labels, porn posts should be allowed again if marked correctly

#dogpost #no bold #tumblr blackout #tumblr strike #tumblr protest

[therk900]

🌼September TC Challenge (Day 1-30)🌼

1 - Are you generally nervous around your tc, or are you more relaxed and comfortable around them? I find I’m more relaxed around them. I am a nervous wreck sometimes but those moments are rare!

2 - Is your tc an introvert or an extrovert? How about you? They are both extroverts while I’m an introvert 

3 - Does your tc use emojis or emoticons when communicating with you? If so, what have they used? if not, what do you think they’d use? S used emojis when he sent personal emails to me! Especially the “😊” emoji. B doesn’t really send emojis. If he did, it would most likely be the thumbs up one or the “😀” emoji

4 - What’s the biggest or most important thing your tc has taught you, ether in terms of life lessons or the subject matter of their class? B: Build my way up so I can do public speaking S: Don’t let shit get to my head!!

5 - Does your tc have a classroom / office, or are they “floating” (using a cart or something and moving from place to place)? What does their teaching space look like? B has an office and it's quite neat, with a couple books here and there. S has 2 offices since he teaches 2 subjects. I have seen one but I’m guessing the other one is neat since he is a neat person in general!

6 - What was your favourite assignment in your tc’s class and why? Are they a harsh grader? For B, I have 2 favourite projects! For one, we got make a homemade magazine about a topic. I got 80% on it! And for the 2nd one, we got to make a creative story which had to follow a simulator timeline of a movie we had watched as a class. I got a 70% on it! With S, we got to do a role play type thing! I got a 73% on it which was good

7 - Do you and your tc have any inside jokes? are they shared by other people (classmates, other teachers, etc) or is it just between you two? Not really

8 - If your tc was an animal, what animal would they be? I feel like S would be a deer and B would be a friendly bear

9 - How do you feel about being in the tcc? Are you afraid of getting caught, etc? Sometimes I am afraid of getting caught since a couple of friends uses Tumblr, so I try and be careful about what I post. But I like being in the tcc.

10 - How long have you been having teacher crushes? How many tc’s have you had in total, and how long have you been in the tcc? I've been liking teachers for 1 and a half years now. I’ve had 4 tc’s in total which is something. I’ve been in the tcc for nearly 2 years now

11 - Is your tc’s room close to the front of your school / campus, or is it more towards the back? Their offices are both at the front of the school which is convenient!

12- Are you shorter or taller than your tc? Both taller than me! S completely towers over me

13 -  does your tc have any pets at home? how many and what animals? B used to have a ginger cat

14 - Does your tc have a blackboard or a whiteboard in their room? What color chalk/marker do they use the most? They both use whiteboards and they mainly used black and red markers

15 - Besides your blog, do you vent about your feelings towards your tc in any other way? I have a mini diary that I use on my computer for things that I don’t put on here. I go more into depth about things there and read back on them every once in a while

16 - Are there any students you’re jealous of in terms of their relationship to your tc? Not really

17 - Imagine that you and your tc were born in the same year. How many days apart would your birthdays be? I would have no clue. Maybe a couple months apart

18 - Have you ever gotten in trouble with your tc? If so, what happened? Never have! Hopefully never will!

19 - Is your tc’s hair curly or straight, and is it short, medium, or long? Both of their hair is straight and short. B’s hair is slightly longer and a tiny bit wavier than S’ hair. 

20- what web browser does your tc use? what kind of phone/computer do they have? I think they both use a HP laptop, so the Microsoft windows web browser. As for phones, they both have apple phones, so safari or google

21- Are there any calendar dates that are special to you because of your tc? Not yet! 

22 - Do any celebrities or fictional characters look like or remind you of your tc? Kind of. There was this one guy on instagram who reminded me of S a tiny bit. There is someone that looks like B as well, but I don’t know who it was. Hopefully I remember soon!

23 - Is your tc’s room/office number even or odd? I have no idea

24 - What do you think sets your tc apart from other teachers at your school? Their personality and looks

25 - Do you like the teachers who are “neighbors” with your tc (that is teachers who have rooms next to your tc)? Yes but no. There are teachers in the same room as each other.

26 - Have you ever suspected someone you know irl of having a teacher crush (either on your tc or on a different teacher)? If so, have you ever confronted them about it? Not really

27 - Do you pass by your tc’s room or office on your way to class frequently? Do you see them around campus a lot? I see them around a lot, but I don’t pass their office tons. I pass B's office sometimes when i have classes in the same building as his office.

28 - Is teaching your tc’s first job, or did they have another job before being a teacher? Have they ever taught at another school before? I know that S has had other jobs before teaching at my school. I think it’s the same for B, but i'm not sure

29 - What things keep you happy and occupied over break when you miss your tc? If you’ve graduated or will no longer be seeing your tc in school, how are you handling the situation? I keep myself busy over the breaks by drawing or doing things on my laptop

30 - What is the sweetest thing they told you or did for you? B liking my drawings and S giving me life advise 

#September teacher crush challenge #male tc #tc #tc community #teacher #teacher crush #teacher x student #male teacher x female student #teacher crush blog #September tc challenge #male teacher crush #tc challenge #tc crush #teacher crush community #male teacher #crush on teacher #teacher and student #male tc crush #male tcc #student x teacher #tc male #tc feels #tc thoughts #tc vent #tcc thoughts #teacher confessions #teacher love #teacher crush confessions #teacher x reader #teachercrushcommunity

[justkeepwalkingnothinghere]

The Owl House: A show that has changed my life in a way nothing else has.

It’s been over a week since the finale aired. Over a week since we’ve had to say goodbye to a show that has more than likely changed animation. Saying goodbye and coming to terms with it has been painful, but I’ve been doing fairly well since the 8th, since the most emotional night of my life in recent memory. The finale has really made me reflect on these last 6 months. The last 6 months since I had watched the first episode, and changed the course of not just my life, but my brain chemistry as well. I have at last found a way to put my thoughts and love for this show into words, and have realized just what this incredible series means to me and what it has done for so, so many people. It makes me feel a certain happiness nothing has ever managed to give me, or at least nothing in a very long time, and I can’t wait to tell you all.

This is the story of my discovery and journey through a series like no other, and just how my life has changed because of it.

The Owl House. I still remember that rainy afternoon in mid-September when I watched my first video about it. I had heard about it before, but hadn’t really been too interested in it. Hard to believe, looking back. But on this fateful afternoon, my YouTube recommended would show me an out of context video, introduce me to a magical adventure, and be my first step on a path that would alter the next 6 months of my life and counting. Not the first time this has happened, and certainly not the last. First one video, then two, then a few animatics and Lumity compilations, and maybe one or two videos of Luz being the biggest bi disaster ever. All of them being from season 1, of course. No spoilers for me, thank you, YT.  The seeds of my obsession and hyperfixation were planted that day and already began to grow.

A few days go by, I watch the first episode and start dying from laughter from the first 30 seconds, and when I went in only for Lumity, I quickly knew I was going to experience so much more than that. A week later, I finally put my foot down and made my mom and I watch the first 6 episodes one day after school, and we never watched a single new episode without each other. We spend time with season 1, already on our way through a magical realm full of possibilities, we blow through season 2 with unbridled amazement, we cautiously watch Thanks to Them, the newest episode at the time, knowing it was the beginning of the end. We had already been through so much, and we were about to see much more.

I hop onto the fandom, excited to interact with fellow fans who are just as dedicated to this show than I am, excite to see all the fanart and the fics, the theories and the memes, the comedic mayhem that is fueled by a burning passion and love for a series, for a wide cast of characters, for a world so so special to most. I spend time on the subreddit, I join Tumblr and make some pals, and my love for The Owl House grows and grows and grows, bigger and bigger and bigger without restraint. I find my favorite characters, my favorite ships, my favorite episodes. Raine rises through my list of characters and lands their spot as favorite and the one I go to for comfort, right alongside Luz. Raeda and Lumity tie for the spot of my OTP, I slowly start shipping Gustholomule, I start writing my first TOH fic about Raeda, I found my people. People who are just as crazy for this fictional world and its cast of goofballs and weirdoes.

People that I can relate to, in a fandom that, for me, is unbelievably warm and welcoming, a million times better than nearly every other fandom I’m in. My love keeps burning brighter and brighter, I manage to connect with a few folks irl and find a Discord server full of wonderful people, all through this series. Never have I been this attached to anything before, never have I experienced something incredible like this. Usually, the shows I watch either ended years ago, still have years left in their lifespan, or I’m never that emotionally attached to hold onto it for long, or have any sort of reaction to it ending outside of “Oh well. Guess that’s it. Sad to see it go”, only to be fully recovered a couple of days later.

But not with Owl House. With TOH, it’s so, so much different, almost as if it’s a whole different species. I’ve latched onto it for months, not intending to let go for a long, long time, I spend hours and hours on Tumblr, the subreddit, and Discord every day talking about this show and info dumping to friends. The Owl House captures a happiness that not even Friends or SpongeBob can achieve, both being shows that have been special to me and always will be. Friends for just being a great show and playing a special part in my relationship with my mom, and SpongeBob for being such a major part of my childhood, a part that holds a large amount of nostalgia. That’s not to say that Friends and SpongeBob don’t make me happy, they really do, without a doubt, but don’t stand a chance against Owl House.

I was never able to pinpoint why Owl House is as special and important to me as it is, until after the finale. After Watching and Dreaming, I realized, it’s because it makes me feel seen. I relate to Luz more than any other fictional character in existence. I’m weird and nerdy on a daily basis, bisexual, neurodivergent, and have never felt like I fit in. I’ve always felt out of place in this world, even in places that are basically made for you to be like this, even in spots where my friends and I can hang out and be weird together. I’ve always seen her as a cartoon version of me, I see myself in her most of the time, and it’s why I cling to her a lot. Same thing goes for Raine, though it’s not as much, but still important, as a person with a crapton of social anxiety and a passion for music and the arts.

I feel seen through all of these characters, whether I see myself in them, or the situations they face and the emotions they feel. It’s incredible, really. And it’s not just me, I’ve seen this in practically the entire fandom. This world, the Demon Realm, makes all of us feel seen, and it’s amazing that a show is able to do that. That a show is able to make us feel in such a way that makes us come together to find and bond with each other. And then I realized something else. Everything about this series makes me unbelievably happy for one reason. It makes me happy and warm inside, like a place I know. Like a place that lets me be who I am around my family, no questions asked. This fandom and everyone in it makes me feel comfort.

It feels like home. Like I belong. It feels like a warm hug, like a kiss to the forehead, like a hot meal on a rainy day, like a nice bath or shower, or the smell of freshly washed bed sheets, like the warmth of clothes fresh out of the dryer, like cuddles after long day, like a nice piece of chocolate, like warm cookies from the oven, like a cup of coffee in the morning, like every single comfort you can think of. The music embodies this perfectly, the end credits more specifically. While the opening more or less feels like “Let the adventures begin!”, the end credits feels like coming home to family and friends, like a hug from the entire cast, like 2 simple words that, although simple, mean a lot to not just me, but many others: “Welcome home”.

In short, The Owl House is a legendary show that has changed history in many aspects, a show that has made millions of people feel seen and find who they are, made many feel like they belong, and has filled millions with a feeling of comfort. A feeling of comfort so strong, it’s the first thing plenty of us reach for when we need something to lean on, or a shoulder to cry on. When we just need a pick me up after a hard day, or when we just need a smile on our faces. It’s a series, a cast of wonderful characters, a magical, fictional world, and a massive fandom that welcomes us with open arms, and makes us happy like not much else can.

And if that isn’t an achievement to be proud of, then I don’t know what is.

#toh #the owl house #this show is so special to me that there are still a couple reasons for it that I have yet to find #I wrote this in an hour in GD while listening to LOTR my body is shaking from the emotions and I don’t regret a thing