#like...who are you? What have you done with the real Amos?

[hotchocolateandpillowforts]

“I’m for killing whoever needs killing but it ain’t gonna make you feel better.”--Amos Burton apparently.

#I can think my way around this quote given everything I know about him from the books #but it kind of sounds weird to the ear at first #like...who are you? What have you done with the real Amos? #*laughs* #I did make that joke on purpose #the expanse

[kiwisbell]

Las Mañanas || Chapter 5 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, reader no longer has a shitty husband(!!), mentions of sex work, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, oral sex (m and f receiving), guilt & shame, brief relationship angst, stakeouts, stechner is a dick, javi is an idiot for a while, premature ejaculation, makeup sex (actually makeup pussy-eating), chucho being peak dad, nightmares

word count: ~ 7.6k

a/n: communicate with your partners, people.

chapter five: love me until i love myself

They don't fight often. But when it happens, it's usually Javier’s fault. This time is no different. 

You could hardly call them fights. Sometimes he forgets he's allowed to share things with her, that he doesn't need to stay silent and mope the way he was used to doing before they met. Sometimes he catches himself smoking by the window when she's asleep because he's woken up and can’t go back, no matter how warm and soft she is beside him. She’ll wake up, too, sensing his absence—then she'll sit by the window with him and give him a good stare until he realises he can talk. He can open up. 

Sometimes he doesn't. It happens when he gets worked up, when he's been suffering through bureaucracy and red tape and evasive weasels. He doesn't want to burden her with that shit, so he buries it; he needs to feel it, to stew so he can get past it next time. But she doesn't take it. 

“Be honest with me,” she said, softly, sliding onto his lap in the chair by the window. “Is there anything I’ve done to make you feel like you can't tell me these things?”

It wasn't a vindictive question. It was a real one, full of genuine curiosity. And it made him feel like a total asshole. “No, baby. Fuck no.”

She pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. “We're partners,” she whispered against his skin. “It kills me to see you so down, honey. I know it's the job, but I hate knowing I can't help.”

Javier crushed his cigarette and pulled her in close, flush to his chest, while he blew out smoke. “You help me just by breathing, amor.”

“Talking takes breathing,” she said teasingly, nosing along his cheek. “You can talk to me, Javier. I know sometimes you don't want to, and that's okay, but what’s not okay is you shutting me out, ignoring me. I had enough of that when I was married.”

And that gentle scolding kicked some real fucking sense into him. “Shit,” he grunted, rubbing his hand over his face. “Shit, baby, I know. I’m sorry.” He cradled the back of her head and looked into her eyes. “I’ll talk.” He pulled her in and kissed her. She sighed into his mouth. 

He was a complete dumbass. He didn't deserve the way her body curved into his or her soft moans melted his bones. He didn't deserve the kindness of her reprimands when he'd been so fucking stupid. But, like she sensed his self-loathing creeping up, she pulled away and said, “I love you. Nothing’s going to change that. You’re not like him and you will never be like him. Te amo, vaquero.” She kissed him hard. “Te amo.”

This time, it feels worse. Los Pepes have him on edge, worried about when they'll inevitably turn, deciding she's a good target if he makes a wrong move. He’s in bed with narcos, while he sleeps next to the love of his life. It's the stupidest decision he's made in a long time, and it's a decision he made to keep the streets safer. 

He didn't know then that digging in deep would put her trust in him at risk. 

“Los Pepes will serve him justice,” says Don Berna with a mirthless laugh. “Ever in your service, Agent Peña.”

Javier sniffs. “You're in your own service.”

Tomorrow morning, Los Pepes will raid the home of Rodolfo Vargas, a trafficker recently recruited by the Medellín cartel to move drugs through his auto body shop. They're effective and efficient, and they're bloody as all hell. More violence isn't what Medellín needs, but it's what they'll get if they want any chance at taking down the cartel. It's not a rosy job, and Javier hates himself more and more for it each visit he makes with Berna. 

“Got a cigarette?”

It's a bait of a question. Javier’s clearly already smoking. It’s a test to see if he’s willing to stay and chat after their exchange. He isn't, but this means Berna’s got more to say. 

Javier passes him a cigarette, but he lets the man light it on his own. “That's one beautiful woman you keep on your arm, Peña,” says Berna good-naturedly. 

That gruff voice of his grates Javier’s ears and incites a vague panic. But his fury rings loud and clear. “I’ve seen many beautiful women in my life,” he says evenly. 

Don't you dare fucking talk about her. Leave her out of this. 

Berna’s laugh is a real goddamned smoker’s laugh. If Javier doesn't quit the way he’s been talking about, he'll sound like that before he’s forty. “It’s a nice little place she runs. Good coffee.” His eyes slide Javier's way. “Don't see a ring on her finger.”

“Do you have a point, Berna?” He can pass off the tightness in his jaw as his cheeks hollowing around his cigarette. But not for much longer. He's learned his limits when it comes to her; it doesn't take much taunting talk like this for him to show his hand. He needs to manoeuvre carefully. 

“No point, my friend,” says Berna. “It's good to see men like you happy. And with a woman like her”—he whistled—“I can see why you smile. Do you do this for her?”

Javier scoffs like he couldn't be bothered for such unmanly talk. “I came out here to smoke alone, you know. I do this because it's my job.”

“That's good to know.” Berna takes another drag. “Los Pepes will make Medellín safer for your girl.” 

Berna knows he's in Javier’s head. He's got the upper hand with the mention of her. He must have seen them together last night. Javier took her out to dinner. “Fuck you, and fuck your threats,” he says at last. “We have a deal, Berna. Aiming threats at her is the best way to break it.”

He crushes his cigarette and leaves in his truck. By the time he gets home, it's an hour later than he promised, and his body is tense enough to saw a plank of wood in half. She's still awake, as they promised so long ago, lounging on the couch while the TV drones a telenovela. She loves them. They're the kind of mindless drama she gets sucked into. The real-world shit has burned her one too many times. 

“Hi,” she says softly, sitting up and yawning. “Everything okay?”

And she isn't angry. Of course she's not angry; it's their deal that they stay awake for one another so they won't go to bed upset. It's perfectly reasonable. 

So Javier, like the moron he is, grunts and leaves for the bathroom without so much as a kiss hello. 

He splashes water onto his face and stares in the mirror as the seconds tick by. He turns the shower hot, hot enough to scald, and stands underneath the stream. He doesn't even wash himself. He just drowns in self-loathing until enough time has passed that he can call it a shower. 

When he leaves the bathroom, she's moved to the kitchen. He smells soup, and his stomach grumbles with hunger he didn't know he was feeling. He hasn't eaten since breakfast. 

Neither of them speaks until she places a bowl in front of him and sits down. “You had a hard day,” she says, looking him in the eye even as he feels too ashamed to meet hers. “I understand. It's unfair of you to treat me like I don’t.”

He knows. Fuck, he knows. She doesn't deserve this. But his brain won't let him pry his mouth open to let her in. It's like someone’s put a lock in his own head. He feels tight inside, his stomach a coil that won't snap. It’s not you. It’s. Not. You. I just can't stop hating myself and the things I do. I love you so fucking much. I need you to be safe. Know that. Please. 

He can't say any of it. “Everything’s fine,” he shoves out. 

Her lips purse. “You're scaring me, Javier. You're coming home late, and you're acting like I’m not here, and you look out the windows every five minutes. Is there someone coming for us? Do I need to be worried?”

“I told you,” he bites, “everything’s fine. I just—”

“Had a hard day.” She nods slowly, but that pinch of irritation in her eyes doesn't leave. “But it isn't fine. I think you know by now that I know you better than anyone. So what makes you think I’m going to leave this alone?”

“Nothing,” he says, and it snaps harsher in the quiet air than he meant it to. “Nothing makes me believe you'll leave it alone, because you never leave anything alone. You keep digging and digging and I don't want to fucking talk. Talking doesn't solve shit. So just leave. It. Alone.”

He doesn't even mean it. And he certainly doesn't mean to say it all to her. Never her. But he can't take it back, and now he sounds just like her ex-husband. 

Her face crumbles. She doesn't even look angry anymore; she just looks sad. She shuts down, pulls her hand back. “I’m going to eat downstairs with Connie,” she says, her voice breaking. “She’s alone tonight, too. I’ll let you think.” 

When she stands, she lifts her hand like she wants to touch his cheek the way she usually does when they stand from the dinner table. Javier chokes on every word he wants to say. He wants to stand up and grab her and pull her close, and he wants to let everything fall out while he begs her to stay. I can’t lose you. 

But he lets the door click softly shut behind him. 

He feels the bed dip a little after midnight. He's still awake when he feels her lips against his cheek, but he keeps his eyes closed. He's definitely still awake when he hears her sniffle quietly beside him, the sound muffled. She's facing away from him. 

~

They wake up at the same time, their eyes meeting in that slow, groggy way until they both remember where they are. Where they are. 

He opens his mouth, but she scrambles out of bed like a bomb went off and heads to the bathroom. 

“You should let me drive you,” he rasps when he leaves the bedroom to see her packing her purse for work. She's already dressed, fresh-faced and ready, but her eyes are sunken. 

She fakes a smile, and he notices the way her eyes don't fully meet his. She just looks at a spot above his brow. “I’m okay,” she says, too brightly to be real. “I’ll be safe. Have a—” She catches herself before she can say Have a good day. “I’ll see you after work. Love you.”

She leaves without letting him return it. Without a kiss good-bye. He deserves it all. She deserves to shove a knife straight into his chest and twist. It would dull the pain that rests there now. 

“I love you,” he says to the empty room. 

~

I’m going to fucking kill you. 

Nonono. Not him. Please, take me, not him. I love him. Please.

Not her. Leave her alone. I’ll fucking hunt you down. I’ll fucking kill you, I swear.

You’ll regret leaving me. I’ll make you watch him die. Then I’ll take you back. You’ll remember that you loved me.

She jolts awake from another nightmare. Her hand comes up to stifle her cries so she doesn't wake Javier.

Javier, who's lying next to her, his face gentle and serene with sleep, lips slightly parted, naked and holding her close. The morning light turns his face golden, and he's so peaceful she can't think to wake him just because she had a nightmare. So, she slips out from under his heavy arm, from his legs which are tangled with hers, and stumbles to the bathroom. She clicks the door gently shut and sinks to the floor so she can let herself cry.

Javier wakes when he feels her warmth slip away. He shuffles absentmindedly toward her side of the bed, eyes still closed, only to pout when her body isn't there for him to bury himself deep into. For a moment, he's just grumpy, but then he blinks himself awake and starts to feel uneasy. Like something is wrong.

The bathroom door is closed, but there are soft sniffles coming from within. Javier's heart spikes and he pushes open the door without thinking.

What he sees destroys him. She's sitting on the floor with her nightgown on, knees drawn up to her chest, leaning against the vanity. She scrambles to her feet when the door opens, wiping underneath her eyes aggressively. "Morning," she says weakly, trying to smile.

Javier smooths back her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"

His mere touch seems to set her off again. She grasps his wrists hard and sobs shudder through her body. "Bad—" She hiccups. "Bad dream. I'm sorry, this is stupid. Didn't mean to wake you. It’s late."

"It's morning, honey." He doesn't like the way the corners of her mouth pull down, the way her eyes shine with such misery. He especially doesn’t like that he put that look on her face when he refused to let her in. "Talk to me," he says softly. "¿Sí?"

She sniffles. "He made me watch you die. He killed you. I couldn't even look. I just wanted to die, too. I'm sorry. I'm..." She buries her face in her hands and begins to cry again. Javier's heart snaps.

"Ven aquí, cielito, ven aquí." He keeps on muttering to her while she wraps her arms around him and holds on tight, her nails digging into his back. He doesn't mind. "I'm here, baby," he says into her hair. "I've got you. I'm here. Not going anywhere."

She presses her face so deep into his body it's like she's trying to make them one person. “Can't lose you.” 

“Never gonna lose me,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Got a lot to stay alive for, hey?”

She sniffles and looks up at him. “I didn't deserve the way you talked to me that night.”

“No. You didn't. I’ve been a complete asshole.” He caresses her arms.

“Want to tell me why?” she offers. 

The unbreachable safe inside his head cracks open when she places her hand over his heart. “Fuck, baby, I just—you’re my life.” He breathes in and surprises himself when it stings, when he feels the hot prick of tears behind his eyes. “I say it all the time, but I can't lose you. I can’t. It would kill me. And what I’m doing—it's dangerous and stupid. It's something I never should have done. But I’m in deep, and if I make a wrong move…”

He's crying before he knows it, but he doesn't try to stop. He buries himself in her, holding her close and wetting the crook of her neck while her hands rub soothing circles over his back, his neck. “Javi,” she whispers, her own voice choked with tears. “It’s okay. We're okay. I’m all yours.”

She's babbling just as much as he was, but it feels so good, uncoiling the tight wire around his heart. “I just want to know that you trust us both enough to talk to me. That you trust us to fix things when they're wrong.”

“Wanna keep you away from all of it,” he huffs into her hair, grabbing a chunk of it just because it’s so soft. “Never want you to see another fuckin’ second of pain.”

“Vaquero,” she coos. “I lived a tough life when I came here. Made bad choices. I’ve seen pain and I’ll see more. But you’re the one who brought me out. You helped when you never had to. I loved you all the way back then, and I’ll love you no matter what you have to do.”

“How…” He chokes on the words, but forces them out anyway. “How can you say that when you don’t know?”

What he’s done, what is yet to come. The laws he’s broken, the people he’s cut a deal with.

She shakes her head. “I trusted you enough to put my life in your hands. I trust that you’re good. That’s all I know, Javier. I know you’re good.”

Their kiss is wet and salty with tears, but it feels like a bridge has mended. 

This is what happens when you love a person: you blame everyone in the world but them. You blame the world itself for opening up a rift between you. When it closes, you go to bed, and you rest your head upon their chest and feel the stitches where the edges were sewn back up. It will be okay. 

~

Lying in bed with his head on her chest, he tells her everything about Los Pepes. Her stomach plummets and her lips press together, but when he's done, she keeps on stroking his hair and she whispers, “Thank you.”

She's terrified for him. But he feels strangely lighter, falling slowly asleep on her as she hums a song she used to sing to her sister. Los Pepes is a speck that he can wipe off the window. This, here, with her, is the only clarity he's ever had. 

~

She's three orgasms in, and Javier just. Keeps. Going. 

She's going to be late for work. The morning sun spills over the bed, warming her naked, sweating skin, but she’s lost track of time. She's twisting her fingers into the pillow she grabbed two orgasms ago, holding it to her face when he pulls her clit into his mouth and sucks… making her come for a fourth fucking time. 

Her scream is raw and practically noiseless. She can barely see with the tears clouding her vision, but she seeks his face out, trying to bring herself back to reality. Her whole body is limp and useless, her thighs twitching as she comes down. 

He looks like he's in heaven. His eyes are open, their soft brown wide and seeking, making sure she's all right, not too stimulated. His hair is wild from her grip and his fingers are going to bruise her legs, but he looks so beautiful like this. He closes his eyes and groans when he tastes her cum, lapping around her clit and licking up into her, drinking it all down. She thinks she's going to black out. 

She tells him as much. He chuckles, which only makes her yelp from the stimulation at her clit as he returns to it, licking in aching circles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries. “Fuck, Javi, I can't… Feels too good… Fuck!”

He just keeps working her up until her whole body is trembling, her mind lifting free of its shackles once again as she crashes into Earth like a meteor, no more body, no more bed. She floats. 

She knows he's making up for the two days they barely spoke, but she can't be bothered to call him on it when she lost her ability to prod around her own brain hours ago. 

To his credit, he's always loved eating her out. It's like a sport for him, an addiction. He loves making her squirm, holding her by the thighs while he sends her head soaring into space. He loves tasting her, soaking his face with her, making her cry and moan until her throat rips raw. He's obsessed with her, wants to be possessed by her. And he's so hard he's leaking a constant stream on the sheets, grinding into the mattress when it gets too agonising. This is about her. 

It doesn't stop the wet, hot sensation underneath him as he sucks her clit into his mouth, a familiar shuddering crash knocking down each knob of his spine. He grunts, hips jerking into the bed. 

She comes for a sixth time before she taps him frantically on the hand and he lifts his head, resting his cheek on her thigh. Her eyes are staring up at the ceiling, her mouth open, chest heaving. She's sweating and her hair is a halo around her head. She's a vision. 

He shifts, crawling up the bed and rolling them over so she's on top of him, knowing she can barely support her own head. She hums on his chest but frowns when she wiggles her hips up against his. 

“You…”

“Yeah.” He pulls her in and kisses her hard, helping her centre herself in the world again. 

He came on the bed sheets. Without her touching him. 

“Mi vaquero,” she mumbles, kissing all over his face, her lips grazing every square inch from his jaw to his temples. “So good to me.”

He hushes her at that, grabbing her jaw and kissing her on the mouth again. He doesn't want to hear that. He's been terrible, fucking awful to her. But she's different this morning, already visibility lighter as she chirps about the bedroom, pulling on a sundress. He's old enough that his refractory period isn't what it was as a teenager, but his cock is already growing interested again as he watches her move about, her ass a beautiful sight in that dress. When she walks close to the bed, he pulls her back down on top of him. 

“I’m already late!” she laughs, playfully smacking his chest. He rolls over and pins her down, naked atop her. “Aye, viejo. You’ll hurt your back.”

“Don’t give a shit,” he murmurs, kissing down her jaw, throat, and collarbones with sloppy caresses of his tongue. “My fucking beautiful girl.”

She shrieks as his hands leave her wrists to drag down her waist. “Tickles!” She tangles her fingers in his hair and lifts his head up, grinning down at him with flushed cheeks. “Honey, if we don't get up now, we're not getting up at all.”

“Mmm.” He sinks his teeth playfully into her throat. 

“Vampiro,” she huffs, but he can feel her getting worked up, rolling her hips against his naked cock even though she’s already come six times. They roll again, and she's on top. A soft growl sounds through his throat when he sees his precum stain the front of her dress. The friction is fucking good. Javier’s mouth falls open and he loses his grip on her involuntarily when she pulls down the straps of her dress and exposes her breasts to him while she rides. “You can come like this, can’t you?” she pants, grinding against him.

He’s nodding frantically, but he can’t even hold his head up once she starts rolling her hips harder. “Sh—shit,” he whispers, reaching out for her hips to help her along. She whimpers. “Fuck, baby. Fuck, keep going. So good. Shit, sweetheart…”

Her head falls back against her shoulders, and he admires the smooth column of her throat as her mouth drops open and she cries out. Freezing on his cock, her whole body shudders, and she comes. “That’s it,” he bites out, “take what you need, amor.”

She’s grinding on him again before she comes down all the way, planting her hands on his chest. It doesn’t take long for him to come, too, baring his teeth and barely choking out, “Coming.”

She slides down his body and takes his cock in her hand, pumping until he begins to spurt his cum over his chest. He slams his hand down on the mattress and twists the sheets in his hand, eyes squeezing shut. They fly open immediately once he feels her hot mouth wrap around his cock and take the last few spurts down her throat. The sight alone prolongs his orgasm until his cum spills out of her mouth, dribbling down her chin. She swipes it up with her thumb and swallows it all down. Even softening, his cock still twitches in her hand. 

He swallows. “Christ.” His voice is raw. “I’m late.”

“We were late when you made me come the fourth time.” She kisses his cheek. “C’mon, viejo. Drive me to work—I’ll bring you something to eat on my break.”

She does. Javier is still looking down at his typewriter when Murphy cheers, lifting his coffee mug into the air. He’s on the phone. “Empanadas! Can I have some, sweetheart?”

Javier rips the receiver out of his hand. “Baby, why'd you call Steve instead of me?”

“You weren't answering your phone,” she says sweetly. 

“My phone hasn't rung.”

“Maybe I just wanted to bug you.” She’s grinning wickedly from the sound of her voice. “I’m talking with Penny if you wanna see me.”

He really does. He tosses the receiver back at Murphy, who keeps on talking to her while Javier makes his way downstairs to the front desk. She's in a different outfit because he stained her dress when he finished on it: a pair of jeans that show off her ass in a way that makes his eye twitch and one of his polos, tucked into her waistband. He's surprised he manages to refrain from pouncing on her like a cat when he reaches her. 

“Mi amor,” he whispers in her ear. “Long time, no see.”

She bites her lip, still holding the phone to her other ear. “Yeah, Steve. I’ll tell him. And you're both invited to dinner Saturday night. Yeah. No, no, don't worry about it. Yeah. Bye, Steve. Say hi to Connie for me.”

Javier holds her around the waist when he greets Penny, pushing his sunglasses down his nose and winking. The middle-aged receptionist blushes at him like she always does. His girl kisses him on the cheek and hands back the receiver to Penny. “Thank you, honey,” says the receptionist. 

She hands Javier a paper bag that's warm to the touch. “Yeah,” he says lowly, kissing her because he can, “thank you, honey.”

She looks up at him with doe’s eyes. “I’ve got an hour.”

That's what he likes to hear. Javier takes her hand and guides her upstairs, hoping to find an empty conference room for the pair of them to eat away from prying eyes. 

“Aren't you two a pair.”

Bill Stechner wanders out of the men’s bathroom and blocks their path down the hallway. She curls up close to Javier and wraps her hand around his arm. He's told her about this asshole. “Stechner. I've got lunch to eat.”

He doesn't budge. “So this is the infamous Señora Peña. Well, not yet, but I’m rooting for you. If only he would just get on with it, right?” His good-natured smile has a predatory gleam to it. 

She smiles politely. “Mr. Stechner.”

No Nice to meet you, the way she usually greets people. The man doesn’t look at Javier, keeping his eyes on his girl instead; it’s enough to heat up Javier’s blood a couple degrees. “I’d like a word, Mr. Peña,” he says.

“Told you,” he bites out. “Busy.”

“Wasn’t a request. The pretty lady can manage five minutes alone, right?” 

Javier feels his eye twitch. 

“Honey,” she says, “I think I’d like a kiss.”

And she pulls Javier down by the back of his neck, kissing him hard enough to bruise, right in front of Stechner. She pulls the sunglasses off his nose while their mouths are connected and places them atop her own head. Lost in the addictive sweetness that surrounds her at all times, Javier slants his mouth over hers and slips his tongue past her teeth. It takes an obnoxiously loud cough from Stechner for her to break away, smiling up at him like she's innocent, like she didn't ride the soul out of Javier this morning. 

“Your word with my husband can wait,” she tells Stechner. “I’m here on my lunch. Have a nice day, Mr. Stechner.”

She slips by him as he watches her with a vaguely amused sneer. Javier follows her, but Stechner claps him on the shoulder. “Good woman,” he says quietly. “Knows what's best for you. I’ll see you in my office when she's gone, yeah?” He walks down the hallway in the opposite direction, repeating the words “good woman” under his breath. 

Javier scoops up her hand and takes her into the closest empty conference room he can find. “Javi,” she says softly, “your nostrils are flaring.”

“Yeah.” He barely gets the word out before he's on her mouth again, a bruising kiss that lets him push all his need, all his desperation and tension, into her lungs. He wants to consume her. His brave, strong girl. The whirlwind. The calm when the gale dies down. She's everything, and he kisses her like it. 

He's devouring her, messy, sucking on her tongue and slipping his hands underneath her shirt. She stumbles against the table and he lifts her up onto it, staggering himself as he tries to find something to hold onto and chooses her instead: her face, her throat, her hips. 

He only pulls away because she's panting, desperate to suck in air, and he won't have her struggling for breath just yet. “Shit,” she gasps, prodding her lips with her finger. “Shit, honey, I didn't know you liked other people watching us that much.”

He nudges his nose against her cheek. He can't move away from her; he just keeps shifting closer, one leg between both of hers, his torso flush to her chest. He wants to become part of her. “So fucking good,” he mutters. “Making him look like an idiot. Showing him who I fuckin' belong to.”

“Mmm.” She drags her nails up the base of his neck and he bares his teeth against her skin. “You like that, vaquero? Kissing me in front of that asshole?”

He shifts his hands to her thighs just so he can squeeze her. “Yeah, I do. Most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. And all mine.”

“Siempre, Javier,” she breathes into his cheek. 

He grins, biting her jaw. “Don't think I didn't catch that, baby.”

“Catch what?” she asks coyly, sending blood rushing to his cock. 

“You called me your husband.”

“Did I?” She shrugs, wiggling against him and pulling him closer, somehow. “Oh, well. Felt like the right thing to say.”

He cannot cope with the amount of love inside him. It breaks him in two, cleaves him open at the chest and pulls his beating heart right out of it for her to see. To touch and hold and keep forever. He doesn't know how to tell her she owns the part of him that keeps him alive, so he kisses her again. “Mi amor,” he mumbles. “Mi esposa. Gonna marry you and keep you with me forever. Everyone’s gonna fuckin’ know it's you, baby.”

She giggles, a bit drunk from kissing him and bruising her lips. “Better work on that proposal, then, cowboy. My hour’s running out.”

“Not here,” he says. “I’m gonna do it properly. Romance you.”

She lifts a brow and places a hand on his chest. “Can’t do that on an empty stomach. Eat.”

They sit next to one another at the table and dig into her empanadas like they've never eaten a day in their lives. It feels true, given they missed breakfast to fuck. Her feet up on his lap, he rubs the bone of her ankle with his thumb. “He's a dick,” she says out of the blue. “He's entitled and he's dangerous. He's got too much power over you, Javi.”

He squeezes her ankle. “So do you, baby, but you don't see me complaining.”

She gives him a hard look. “I don't have anything to do with your job. He does.”

They can’t talk about Los Pepes here, not with the chance someone could overhear. But he knows her code, the way she knows his. Javier cups her cheek and traces her bottom lip with his thumb. “Wanna know what I know?” She nods, looking up at him with her softened, buttery eyes, the eyes that make his brain spout any nonsense as long as it makes her happy. “I know I don’t have shit if I don’t have you.”

She bites her lip to stop her smile. “Don’t let any of those guys out there hear you say that.”

“Those guys…” He leans forward slowly only to grab her thigh and pull her onto his lap. “… don’t have you. Don’t know how fuckin’ crazy you make a man.”

She hums, grasping his jaw in her hand. “Just one man.”

It makes him feel manic, primal, his head buzzing with desire. His blood is hot and his fingers squeeze her thighs hard enough to leave indents. He shifts to wrap his arm around her waist possessively. All of him feels possessive—he’s crawling with the itch to keep her close to him, bury himself in her, never let the world touch her the way it has before.

He breathes into her neck like it’s oxygen and he’s drowning. “Need to… Fuck, need…”

“Javi,” she says gently, her touch a cooling balm to his heated skin as she slips her hands under the collar of his shirt and presses down on his shoulders. It grounds him here, with her. “I need it, too, Javi. Need you all the time. But I have to go back to work.”

It’s a perfectly reasonable excuse. Her hour’s almost up. So he reacts reasonably: he shoves his face into her hair and huffs like a grumpy old dog. She laughs, exasperated. “Drive me back.”

“It’s a block away, baby.” He’s still grumbling against her, the need for her so intense he refuses to peel himself away.

She lifts a brow at him like she can’t believe he would dare to refuse her offer. “Drive me back,” she says again, “and take the long way around.”

He perks up, the dog who knows he’s going to the park. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, sliding off him and offering her hand. “I forgot to wear panties.”

He’s certain every single person in the building knows why they’re leaving together, but he doesn’t give a shit. He keeps his hand on her lower back and when they find a side street, he spreads her across the bench of his truck and buries his cock deep inside her. 

~

“Javi, your dad’s on the phone.”

He walks out of the shower with his hair still damp and shakes it over her when he meets her at the table. She yelps, smacking him on the shoulder. He just gets onto his knees so he’s at eye-level with her tits, on display in her unbuttoned blouse, and she has to grab hold of his hair to keep him away from them. 

“No, Chucho, he’s just got out of the shower. Of course he wants to talk to you!” She grins into the receiver. “No, he hasn’t done it yet. Of course I’m going to say yes; él es el amor de mi vida.” She looks down at him and winks. “I’ll put him on for you.”

He sits his ass on the floor so he can rest his cheek on her inner thigh, happily sandwiched between her legs and deliciously close to her lacy panties. “Hi, Pop,” he says, grabbing a cigarette off the table while he wedges the phone between his ear and her thigh, close to purring with the way she brushes through his hair with her fingers.

“Tu amor sounds more and more beautiful every time I talk to her,” says Chucho. “It’s a shame I barely know what she looks like.”

His father has been pressing Javier like an embosser on paper to take a break, visit him in Laredo. He wants to meet his future daughter-in-law so badly he keeps saying it’ll kill him. Javier lights his cigarette. “Pop—”

“There's plenty of room on the ranch,” he cuts in. “I’ve got the guest room made up.”

Javier lazily meets his girl’s eye. Guest room, he mouths. She bites down on her lip and shimmies a bit, her tits shaking against the silk of her shirt. He elects not to look away. “Yeah, Pop,” he says vaguely. “We're gonna visit. Make a vacation out of it.”

She leans down to speak into the receiver. “Make sure you put him to work, Mr. Peña.”

Javier’s too busy taking the opportunity to take a nipple between his teeth to retort. She huffs, smacking him gently upside the head. “Why do you think I invite him?” says Chucho. 

Javier asks about the calves and the crops (all thriving), and he asks how Chucho’s back is doing (about the same; back problems run in the family). She stands to make dinner while they're chatting about Laredo (the sheriff’s department's latest drug bust, the gossip about Chucho’s next-door neighbour a mile down the road and his latest affair). Javier follows her into the kitchen like a puppy, tucking the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he chops tomatoes. He’ll hand the phone to her when his father wants to talk to her, which is most of the time. 

What's for dinner, mija? How’s your mother doing? Do you know how to milk a cow?

Javier smiles. They've been making friends with one another since the first time Chucho asked him to put her on the phone. She’s it for me, Pop. 

Gonna give me grandkids?

He’ll just laugh and say, Talk to you next week. 

It's not that they haven't talked about it. They have—at length. But if they're going to try, it won't be while he's working against the most dangerous people in Colombia. 

When he sets down the phone, she slides her hand across his stomach. “That shirt,” she mutters. 

He looks down at her, lifting his brow. “This shirt,” he prompts. 

She slides her other hand up his arm, a ghost of a touch, and it's enough to send blood to his interested cock. It doesn't take much from her. “So sexy,” she hums, fisting the yellow polo by the collar. 

She has a unique appreciation for his wardrobe. Always says he's stuck in the ‘70s, that he owns one too many loud patterns for his own good, that he sticks out in his tight jeans. But Christ, she likes it. “Sure it's not the body, baby?” he asks, low and deep, abandoning the cutting board to slide his hands beneath her silk blouse and pull her mostly naked body to him. “Worked hard for it. Running over rooftops all day.”

“Oh, it's the body, all right.” She lifts up the hem of his shirt. “You’re so handsome. So strong. All mine.”

He's putty in her hands when she tells him he's handsome. She can shower him with affection and words and he'll melt, butter, pliable as she has her way with him. He likes it: knowing she sees him as strong, good, capable. Sees him as someone she wants to bee seen with all the time. 

And right now, she needs it. He's more than willing to give. She's hands and lips, feverish in the way she pulls his shirt up over his head and shucks her own blouse off. He has to brace his hands on the counter just so he doesn't keel over from the blood leaving his brain when she begins to kiss, lick, nibble all over. From his neck to his chest, all the way down to his stomach until she’s licking his aching hardness over his jeans. “Fuck,” he hisses, slamming his palm down on the countertop. He won't guide her. He wants her to take him the way she wants. But even like this, he's leaking, making a mess of himself. He goes white-blind for a moment when she takes his zipper between her teeth and tugs it down. 

“Jesus,” he groans to himself. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

He tries not to let his eyes cross. He really does. But she takes him into her wet, hot mouth after shucking his pants down his thighs like they owe her money. And he chokes on his own tongue with how fucking good it feels, his hips stuttering and his hands white-knuckling the counter. 

She slides her tongue around his head while she takes him down to her throat, licking along his veins and swallowing around his length. She sucks his cock as if she needs it to survive, and he just might die. 

Her hands caress his thighs as she moans around him, and then they migrate to his balls, reaching around to squeeze his ass just because she loves to, because she knows he’ll let her do anything when he’s this far gone. His head is fuzzy and he can't form a sentence; he just curses and says her name and curses some more. She keeps her eyes on him so he keeps his on her, and they become the only two people in the world. 

His hearing comes back in a rush, like emerging from underwater, when she takes him down to the base, her nose brushing the hairs at the base of his cock, and chokes in her excitement to swallow, to make him feel good. 

The word good isn't in his vocabulary when it comes to this. This is ecstasy. Javier shuts his eyes and even stumbles a little when he comes. She holds onto his thighs, keeping her mouth locked around him as he spurts every drop of his cum inside her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Mmmhmm,” she groans, eyes watery, mascara dribbling black tears down her cheeks. He reaches out to tangle his fingers in her hair just to hold onto something so he doesn't fall over. He just keeps coming until her cheeks expand and she pulls off; the last of his cum drips out onto her bruised lips. 

He wants to drop to his knees and propose right then and there when she opens her mouth to show the mess he made of her mouth, clearly awaiting his instructions. He collects himself enough to do two things: firstly, he remembers he cannot propose to her while her mouth is full of cum; second, he croaks out a barely-audible “Swallow.” She does. 

“Fucking…” He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, hoping to clear his vision. “Fucking… baby, I—”

She shakes her head and kisses his softening cock gently. It makes him twitch, but he's too spent to go again. “I know,” she says, her voice a bit raspy and ruined. She leans her head against his thigh and sighs happily.

He helps her to her feet, tucks himself back into his jeans, and kisses her hard. He pants against her cheek when he's done nibbling at her lips. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“So handsome,” she whispers, like it's a sufficient answer for her. “Just love you so much.”

“You're so”—he kisses a path along her cheek to her jaw—“fucking”—he bites down on the curve of her throat—“good to me. So good to me. Fuckin’ love you, mi alma.”

Usually, she's a giggling mess when he bites her like this. Mi vampiro, she'll say, indulging him with a hand at the back of his head. Now, she moans, body curving up against him. “Javi,” she breathes out. “Want you to watch me.”

“Shit. Shit, honey, is it my fuckin’ birthday?” He slips his hand around her waist, but she pulls back and smiles wickedly. 

“You can't touch.”

And there's the kicker.

He pouts down at her, and she presses her fingers to his lips before she slides them down her body, sweet and slow. It's rare they make dinner on time during nights like these. Tonight is no exception. 

~

When Javier proposes, it's private. 

He does it in their apartment because she doesn't like spectacles. Neither does he. It's just for them: the dinner he cooks, three courses he only knows how to perfect by being with her; the lilies he bought in bulk just to spread them around the place because she loves them so much; the way he tells her to close her eyes and she does, even though she's got a giddy grin on her face and knows what he's up to. 

She opens them and begins to cry nonetheless, seeing him on one knee at her feet. 

From the moment he walked into the café, he fell in love with her. He gained a friend and a partner in that little window of time that was only for them. He trusted her before he trusted himself. He feels like a teenager when he's with her, so excited to be in her company and giddy with the simplest touch; and he feels more like an adult than he ever has, knowing she’s the most important part of his life and he needs to cherish her, protect her. He loves her smile and her laugh. Her voice. Her eyes. Her kindness and her patience. Her smart mouth. The way she knows him long before he's figured it out himself. The way she can calm the storm in him with a whisper and a touch. He's difficult and grumpy, and she chooses him every time. He loves her so much it hurts. 

He tells her all of this. And then he asks her if she'll marry him, since it's customary. Even though they’ve been organising their documents and ensuring everything is in order for months, he still asks. She deserves to hear him ask.

She says yes. 

~

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#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

[happy-mokka]

Hi there.

I'd like to start with a warning first: Beware!

I'm rather new to tumblr, so if what will come next turns out to be total bs, I hope you all get out of this unscathed, forget we ever crossed paths and will be able to go on with your beautiful lives.

If you're still here, you'll about to hear the nice and accurate story of a guy that stumbled naively into a Good Omens binge watching weekend and came out forever changed.

Roughly 4 weeks ago I was asking friends what they were watching currently. I needed new material to turn to.

That's when it happened.

One of them casually brought up Good Omens on Prime. I should give it a try. Angels, demons. Terry Pratchett. Neil Gaiman.

Ok. I like fantasy. I like good story telling. I have an odd sense of bad humour.

I decided to give it a try.

To my eternal shame I have to confess, that until lately I hadn't read a single line written by both Pratchett and Gaiman.

I've read thousands of books. My love for them is so widely spread over all genres, that it simply did never happen. There was always some other book and author that came next.

Oh, how blind and ignorant I have been. I now clearly see the grave error of my ways.

If you can't forgive me, that's ok. I'm having a hard time myself doing so.

Be that as it may, I'm currently reading Good Omens and won't stop there. I promise.

Update notice 2024-04-23 I am now 5 books into Neil Gaimans works, currently reading this...

So, where was I? Right. Binge watch session of Good Omens season 1. Saturday evening. Around 9:30pm.

Episode 1 wasn't even running for 5 minutes and I was already sucked right into it.

Frances McDormand's God intro and the garden eden scenes. I was instantly in love.

Michael Sheen had already been one of my favorites. His first minutes as Aziraphale directly hit home.

David Tennant was familiar but I also hadn't been into Doctor Who, so it took another 5 minutes to also fall for Crowley...

The path was set and I started to deep dive in.

6 hours, 6 episodes, 1 Antichrist and 1 almost Armageddon later I crawled into bed on early Sunday morning to get at least a few hours of sleep. I fell asleep with an almost idiotic grin on my face and a feeling of deep content.

Only 5 hours later, technically still Sunday morning, I woke up, prepared a coffee infusion and switched the TV back on.

There were important deeds to be done. Episodes to be watched. I could sleep later.

Narrator: No, he would NOT sleep later...

I again immediately fell for the 2 celestials.

The slightly different arc, no dramatic catastrophe on the horizon, instead beautifully written side characters and wonderful new details on the two main protagonists...an evolving love story that had already been clearly visible in season 1...

And god, or Satan, HOW I LOVED JON HAMM as Jimbriel...

I again ended up binge watching the whole season, only interrupted by a few coffee and bathroom breaks.

6 hours later. The end credits were already over for like an eternity and I hadn't moved. Just sitting there, all goosebumps and teared-up.

I ate something. Had to. Don't really remember tasting anything or remembering what I actually had.

I was dumbstruck.

The friend that had suggested to start watching GOs, hadn't let out much more detail, so I hadn't been prepared in the least, for the emotional train wrecked state it had pushed me into.

Hours later I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning before work I just sent Tori Amos' Nightingale in Berkeley Park to my GOs friend followed by a ❤️, as a signal that I had watched it all and let her know that there was no need anymore to hold back with talking out of fear to spoiler me.

We had lunch together and spent the whole time rambling on our GOs induced emergency emotional state and the whole beauty of especially Gaiman's season 2.

The next days we kept randomly talking about GO before she pinpointed me to tumblr, in case I wanted to dare a real deep dive into GO fandom.

So here I am now. A week's passed. I've spent hours of reading so many amazing posts around here. So many eye-opening moments.

I'm not only speaking of all those perfect interpretations of GO and it's characters.

What impressed me so much more is the fabulous energy especially radiating from the queer community.

Update notice - 2024/04/10

Attention! This installation of base module "Sexuality" is currently being updated to a more flexible one...work in progress...

Not being queer, only having a few queer friends, I hadn't really realized, just how big a thing GO in general and season 2 in particular was for you.

I was raised to walk earth open-minded, to respect everyone, no matter of religion, gender, nationality and sexual orientation. This is so deep a part of my DNA and personality, that GO for me was mostly just a beautiful story about religion, the meaning of life and love.

2 immortals fall deeply in love, first into humanity, life on earth and then finally into one another, while trying to overcome all the madness of belonging to two opposing sides of the same medal.

A great parable on the pursuit of happiness. Skillfully written for the screen and perfectly casted and played.

Well that was then.

Now I see you and I have to thank you, for opening my mind even further.

For giving so much joy so generously, although every day is still a fight for your rights.

For giving me a space here among you and the chance to delve some more in beautiful minds and fanfiction.

So, if you're still here and reading this, maybe it was not all bs. Maybe it gave you some minutes of entertainment and distraction from every day's stress and problems.

It sure was for me.

I'll end this with some favorite Shakespeare quotes, although now I'm not so sure any more, if not some red haired demon might have actually written this...

"If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends."

#good omens #my story #thank you #loveislove #ineffable #nice and accurate #simple truths #confessions

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

so.... I just finished my first read through of Clementine Book Two and... spoilers below the cut, but what the hell did I just read?

I don't even know what rating I'd give this honestly?? It was certainly more enjoyable than Book One but probably not for the reasons intended..... 2/5 stars for now?? I think?

I guess my feelings about this second installment are... it feels like a very big missed opportunity.

The art style is significantly improved though the characters do still sometimes look like potatoes, but the environments? Lovely. Really makes me wish this was done in color but alas, the walking dead is allergic to color.

The story goes that Clementine, Ricca, Olivia, and their pet cat Dr Barnaby ended up crashing the plane in Canada... because if you'll recall from Book One, they all escaped in a plane after Georgia decided to be evil and murder Amos, then tried to murder everyone else.

So they're in Canada, and Clementine's leg got so infected due to lack of proper cleaning that she goes into a coma for a month... no really, she goes into a coma. But it's okay, because Ricca and Olivia manage to flag down a boat to help them. Clementine wakes up on this island, we're introduced to a whole new cast of characters, we see how the island works, all that.

I like the Island group. They're not as likable as the Ericson crew, or any of the groups from the games. But we've got:

Miss Morro: the "doctor" of the island

Emi: She saved them and brought them to the island.

John: Miss Morro's son

Amir: A kid who lost his arm because his father didn't believe him when he said a dog bit him and he was too little to fight getting it cut off. Also one of my favorites.

Shu-Fen: she's probably the most interesting of the new cast. She and her family were on vacation here on the island when the outbreak occurred, and since she's originally from Taiwan, she's slowly trying to piece together a map to see if it's possible to ever make it back home.

Ginette and Giles: elderly couple who only speak French.

Mercy: a little girl that Ginette and Giles take care of.

There's a lot more focus on emotional drama and trauma, which I don't mind, especially since we're not given any real antagonist... well, I guess the closet person to an antagonist is Miss Morro, but she's just kind of... an asshole? She's verbally and physically abusive with her son. She's petty. After Clementine and Ricca have a big fight, Miss Morro says things clearly meant to hurt Clementine, and imply that Clem's incapable of love.

Miss Morro used to be a pathologist who performed autopsies, and her whole thing is she spends all of her time in her little hut doing these autopsies on every walker the group kills, she documents everything, and then buries them. She prioritizes this over the living people of the group in a way that feels like she's trying to convince herself that she's a good person?

Honestly, I was waiting for the big reveal that she was actually doing science experiments on the walkers... but alas, that's what I mean when I say this book feels like a wasted opportunity.

But don't worry, we have more drama because guess what. No, really, take a guess at what was revealed part way through this book. Do it. Guess.

That's right, Olivia's pregnant.

Yep. Apparently she and Amos had sex in Book One, and now Olivia's pregnant.

But why, though?

Can I share my conspiracy? Imma share my conspiracy, I think Tillie's fucking with us now. I know I've said time and time again, "When you review the comic, leave Tillie out of it," but my tinfoil hat says she's getting the last laugh and honestly? .....I'm here for it, ngl. I don't have the fucks to care anymore.

Because c'mon. Another side character from Clementine's group having a baby that she'll have to help raise? If Olivia dies next book and Clem and Ricca have to raise that baby, I'm gonna laugh.

Oh my god, what if they name the baby Amos Junior...... AJ 2.0

do it, Tillie, doooo iiiiiit

what, no I'm not losing my mind shut up I am so normal about this

Anyway... Clementine even has this line of dialogue: "I've seen a baby born before, but it was so scary I blocked it out." You blocked it out??? Are we talking about Christa? or Rebecca?? If it's Rebecca, that means Clementine blocked out AJ's birth.

It's absurd, right? And Olivia is soooo uneducated about it! Clementine finds her in the lighthouse and Olivia tells her she got bit *because she felt something move inside of her*..... and then Olivia asked why it matters when she last had her period.... How the hell did she and Amos even figure out what to do, honestly.

Speaking of Amos, my hopes and dreams were crushed. He did not come back as a twist villain, he only came back as the voice of the dream sequences.

No Lee in this book, btw. Or AJ. Amos served that purpose this time and I am disappointed. I still refuse to believe he's actually dead, you gotta show me his dead body or his walker form. We still have one more book, I'm just saying. He could come back. I won't lose hope. It wouldn't be the most ridiculous thing to happen.

And I guess I should talk about Clementine and Ricca... y'know, I kept an open mind. I really did. I went into this wanting to ship it because it's pointless to go into this mad, y'know? I can't change it, there's nothing I can do about it. So I had high hopes that we would get more development on their romance and we did... it just wasn't good.

Clemricca isn't a very healthy relationship, nor is it entertaining. Clementine's fickle, Ricca's demanding. She tells Clementine that she's willing to wait for her since Clem's still hesitant about these feelings. But then they get into an argument and I just... here's the dialogue. I would show the actual pages but from what I've found, no one has actually uploaded the book yet and I don't have a means to do it myself but:

Clementine: I don't want you to think that anything is more important to me than you. Ricca: That's kind of how you made it sound. Clementine: What I meant to say was that I… I want this island to be safe for us. We can't do anything if we're dead. Ricca: What do you mean "do"? Kiss? Date? Talk about how we actually feel? The dead decide when that can happen? Clementine: … Ricca: I love you. And I'm pretty sure you love me too. But you're not making me feel loved. You're making me feel you just want to protect me or… Clementine: But I do want to protect you. It's all I ever think about. Every minute of every day. Ricca: I don't need saving, Clem. I need you to love me. And I need it to be always. It can't start and stop. Clementine: …I… Ricca, turning to leave: Oh my god, maybe this has all been in my head- Clementine: Ricca- Ricca: I get it, okay? Clementine: If I let… If I let myself… Ricca: Forget this. Clementine: You said you would wait for me! Ricca: That's not fair. You want me to wait for the impossible!? Clementine: No, I- Ricca: I'm done, Clem. Clementine: Ricca, don't go in yet, please, we can talk more- Ricca: What else is there to say?

I dunno, Ricca, what else is there to say? Because I'm speechless.

By the way, at this point they haven't even had their first kiss. They don't have that kiss until the very end of the book...... and then they have sex. I think?

Again... but why, though?

It's not explicit, nothing is shown, it's not really anything, it's just implied that it happens through dialogue and a "fade to black." I don't even know how to talk about it, and I keep questioning myself like, "IS that what's happening??" but again, it's not explicit or sexualized in any way, it just is and I don't know how I feel about it. Hopefully I can collect myself for the big review and properly discuss it because... I think I get what the story's going for with it, but I don't love that direction, y'know?

So much happens in this book that I haven't covered, like... so much happens, it's longer than Book One and there are more characters. There's a lot of bullshit, but it was honestly enjoyable for what it was until the ending... which the ending was a problem in Book One, too.

I haven't covered that big tragic ending yet, I'm saving that for my in-depth review. I don't know when that will be out, I want to read this a few more times and be thorough. If y'all have read it let me know your thoughts. I'm very interested to know what you thought of that ending, just... all of it, Chapter Seven onward.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go read a palate cleanser and to collect my thoughts.

#twdg #clementine book two #twdg clementine #y'all these comics are so far removed from the games #i'm laughing

[lutawolf]

Hi Luta,

I’m loving your thoughts, particularly around Love in the Air, which is currently living rent free in my head. I know you touched on it briefly in you Ep 1 & 2 recaps, but how much do you think Rain’s lack of romantic (and sexual) experience plays into his interactions with P’Payu and the sexual awakening he seems to be having. We know from his conversations with Sky, as well as his unrequited obsession with Ple, that he doesn’t have much if any real relationship experience with women. And despite his gushing over how handsome the stranger who changed his tire was, he has a fairly black and white (straight or gay) view of sexuality. He is ready to accuse Ple’s brother of being gay for admiring the mysterious Payu so much, while not recognising how his own gushing over what turns out to be the same person, would appear the same to outsiders.

I do find their exchange at P’Payu’s garage loft fascinating. Although Rain at this point still considers himself straight, there is a clear connection between the two that Rain is yet to truly verbalise. Despite barely knowing P’Payu beyond the legend and him rescuing Rain twice, Rain practically melts as P’Payu dries his hair - it’s no wonder that Payu reads that as an open invitation to test the waters of moving the relationship forward. And while I do think there is the seedlings of the No Kink there, a lot of those initial protestations on Rain’s part seem to be more gay panic. His body is clearly responding favourably to P’Payu’s touch, but his head is still very much in Straight mode, and he isn’t ready to acknowledge what Payu sees. I think this is why Payu backs off once Rain is able to get his head to control his body and hits Payu with the pillow - it’s Payu pulling back to make sure the relationship only moves forward once they are both in it, and clearly Rain isn’t ready at that point mentally, even if his unconscious actions indicate otherwise.

This ended up longer than expected but curious as to your thoughts.

Hey Amos!!!

I'm so glad you are enjoying my reviews. I really appreciate everyone taking the time to read them. Rain has had no sexual experience what so ever. That comes from the book, so we are going to assume it's true for the series until proven otherwise. Which in my opinion, it's actually been reinforced that he doesn't. I know how the scene came off in the cafeteria, but he is sitting right next to his best friend who he is very aware is gay. That gay best friend just smacks him in the head because he realizes this is an insert foot into mouth moment. So no, I don't see him as homophobic at all. He's just an an adorable white crayon.

Rain is on the attraction boat from the word go, when he sees Payu again at the frat party. What's more he actively goes after Payu. Payu sees this and tests prior to even getting to the bedroom. Not only has he already pegged him as a brat submissive but he is also aware of how innocent Rain is. The bedroom was a tease and push to get him where he wants. That's my opinion any way.

Like I've said a million times. This is art, turn the painting a certain way and someone else will see it differently. I see way more than a seedling of the No Kink and very little gay panic. Now he has panic in the general since. However, most of his panic is about being Dominated. He has likely always imagined himself as dominant but here is this not so nice guy just running right over him and it feels good. He is having a what the hell is wrong with me crisis. Just look at the bathroom scene. He got hard. Payu pushed him to getting hard and he didn't sit there having a freak out that a guy got him hard. If he was going to gay panic shouldn't he have done it then?

Thank you for writing and again thank you for reading my reviews. 💜💜💜

#love in the air the series #love in the air series #love in the air kink #luta opinions #luta question and answer #luta talks kink #coconuts mafia

[red-dead-do-over246]

Hello, would you be so kind to write for the prompt 254 with micah bell and male (preferred) or gender-neutral reader? I kinda imagined him saying that line after the reader confesses their feelings for him and he can't believe that someone might see him that way? Thank you <3

I can do my best!💖 I'm glad you're cool with gender-neutral because that's easiest for me

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Not a Monster

Confessing your feelings was one of the hardest moments in your life. However, for Micah Bell, it was accepting them.

#254 “Look at me and say it again.”

This was one of the toughest and most nerve-racking moments in your life.

You’ve been beaten, thrown in jail, nearly hanged, had a gun pointed at your face, and have even been mauled by a bear. But this was nothing in comparison to facing Micah Bell and telling him the one thing that’s been on your mind for a long time.

That you have feelings for him.

As you stepped towards him, each step made you feel sicker. Micah was not exactly someone who was approachable. He distanced himself from everyone, not wanting to form any sort of connections. He was a loner. 

“Y/N? What do ya need?” His voice caught your attention, and you realized that you walked right up to him. Once again, your heart was working faster than your brain. This was your moment. The moment you could finally be free of your secret feelings.

“Micah...I have something to tell you.” There was no avoiding it.

“Well, spit it out then.” He said, taking a drag of his cigarette, not seeming to really care what you had to say. You fumbled with your hands.

“I love you.” You said quickly, flustered beyond belief. You couldn’t even look at his face.

But you did see his cigarette drop to the ground.

Luckily, Micah still had enough sense left in him to quickly stomp it out before it started a fire. However, he still hadn’t responded to your words, and you were still too nervous to look up at him. What if he was angry?

Then, he finally spoke.

“Look at me and say it again.” Micah said sternly, and you thought he meant look him in eye. But he actually meant something entirely different.

He meant look at him, as a person.

Micah was not someone who expected someone to love him. Well, like that. He seemed to distant himself from others, and not wanting any form of relationship with anybody. However, when he spoke about his brother Amos, he seemed to sound almost...jealous. Like he wanted to be loved.

But others perceived him as a monster, so that’s what he became.

“I...I love you...” You said softly, moving to look him in the eye. Micah seemed to soften for what seemed like a second before shaking his head and tensing up again.

“No ya don’t.” He scoffed, moving to look away from you.

“I do.” You said strongly, balling your fists at your sides in irritation. Why can’t he just see and accept your feelings.

“I’m a monster, Y/N.” Micah said bitterly, looking back at you with a frown. However, you saw pain behind his eyes. He truly couldn’t accept the fact that another person had tender, real, human feelings for him.

He only accepted how the other members of the camp viewed him. As a monster.

“You’re not a monster.” You told him and he just seemed to almost shrink at those words. Like, he was struggling with this whole situation. Micah didn’t respond to your words and looked ready to be done with this whole conversation by slinking back to the edge of camp where no one could find him.

However, you took a risk and grabbed his hand.

“Micah, you ain’t no monster, and I’m gonna tell you why.” You said to him, squeezing his hand as you felt him trying to pull away. Micah seemed almost...afraid...like he didn’t want you to see him anymore.

“I would never allow myself to love a monster, and a monster would never hold my hand.” You added that last part with a grin, causing him to stop fighting your hold.

“You grabbed my hand Y/N.” Micah said with a bit of a smirk, and you moved to better lace his hand with your own.

“But it’s still there, ain’t it?” You asked him fondly, and you could see that his barriers were slowly being let down. He began to move his body, so it was closer to yours.

“I suppose so.” He said with a nervous chuckle, and you moved even closer to him. As much as you wanted to kiss him, you decided not to push your luck. Micah knows your feelings now and seems to accept them slightly.

So, you left it with just a kiss to his cheek.

The next day you saw him writing a letter. He seemed to be rather excited with how quick he was writing, but just who could he be writing to? Micah didn’t really have anyone to write to, so you decided to ask him.

“It’s just to my brother. I know he told me off...but I don’t care.” The outlaw said, flashing you a quick grin before returning to his scribbling. You decided to leave him to it, not needing to ask the details. 

But still, as you walked behind him, you glanced quickly and what you caught made you smile to yourself.

“I did it, Amos. I finally found someone who loved me. So, you can shove it up your...”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #micah bell #micah x reader #micah bell x reader #rdr2 micah bell

[knightsteapot]

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ SOME CONTEXT BEFORE READING

ANYTHING BEFORE SAYING "TE AMO" is a very short SMAU series with Jason Todd (Red Hood) and Reader (Latina anti-heroine).

Fluff, comedy, action, probably some spice... Yeah, most likely ehe.

First chapter

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ PROFILES

NILTAVA: In other words reader. Your past is a story for another time, you don't remember anything and sometimes it's better, especially when you're conscious you suffered after being kidnapped and transformed into a weapon. You never went back to your family, not even when the Justice League gave you the chance, no, that life wasn't yours anymore.

You were not a victim, not now, you solved the issue by yourself, you punished the people behind the whole damned project, you destroyed their lives as they destroyed yours. Batman wasn't happy about it, but what's done it's done. Maybe he pitied you enough to understand your reasons, who knows? At least him and his "family" were not as bad as you thought for the first time, no, actually the only one you wanted to punch was that cheeky bastard: Red Hood, he was always interfering with your plans, with your revenge, however, life works in mysterious ways... And now... Things are different.

After all the shit you went through and thanks to the person who took you out of hell itself: Jason Todd, you decided to become a hero but under your own rules, in general terms an anti-heroine, joining a nice group of misfits like you: the outlaws. You owed to Red Hood your new life, despite your conflicts at the beginning, what he did for you let you comprehend that kindness still existed in a twisted world like this. You were ready to follow that red helmet to the end of the world and back, but was it your way to repay his kindness or... was it something worse... like love?

BASIC DATA:

Codename: Niltava

Civilian Name: Ela/ Ella Flores

This is not your real name. You have a real name, the one given by your parents but it's long lost in your past, remembering it would condemn you to live a life full of grief and doubt that doesn't belong to you anyways. You let the batkids choose your new identity, you couldn't call yourself Niltava 24/7 did you?

Truth be told, you liked the fact that your name sounded good in spanish too. You disconnected yourself from your past but not from your roots.

Abilities: Combat and weapon mastery. You were brainwashed to be the perfect weapon and you indeed are.

Aura manipulation. After an expedition in your mercenary days, you made a contract with a goddess called Admena. Ancient goddess from a lost civilization, she said she's the goddess of primordial order but... Sometimes... You think chaos fits her better.

Extra: You use a a blue short wig when you're in your vigilante duty. Your secret identity is very important, exposing yourself so easily would be stupid.

MOREA: One of your best friends, you've been friends for around a year, an amateur witch who wants to become a high ranking heroine. Great power and ability to summon astral beings. You two met eachother working with the justice league dark in a very... Particular case.

BASIC DATA:

Codename: Morea

Civilian name: Katherine Simone

Abilities: Astral summoning. She can summon and control entities from the astral plane only if she's stronger than them, if not things can get complicated.

RED HOOD: Anti-hero and leader of the infamous outlaws. Ex-robin, won a round against death but came back with issues. Strong, smart, badass, intimidating outside... A heart of gold inside. Destiny made him discover Niltava's plan to take revenge, thought of her as the enemy, later understood what was really happening... Helped her as if his life depended on it. Got involved with his family again thanks to this. Doesn't really know if he likes it or not.

BASIC DATA:

Codename: Red Hood

Civilian name: Jason Peter Todd

Abilities: Combat, weapons and detective expertise. Extremely good doing what he does.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ EXTRAS

Artemis de Bana-Mighdall

Bizarro

Roy Harper

Batfam

#☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ knight of the peony #red hood #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #smau #batfam #artemis #Bizarro #batman imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd x Latina reader #DC latina!reader #redhood x latina!reader

[tani-b-art]

Maxine’s Baby: The Tyler Perry Story

Perry’s legacy in film, in Black American culture is imprinted. Generationally. What he’s done in the industry is groundbreaking. His non-traditional approach and method to all he’s accomplished is a testament to what we’ve always done as Black Americans when it comes to everything — having a seat at our own table we built. He broke the mold and shattered the glass ceiling. He truly has the Black American, ancestral lineage of perseverance running through his blood!

I also learned so much more about him and his relationship with his mother and his mother in general that I hadn’t known. Also, parts of him speaking about his mother connected a lot of why he has certain perspectives on life and relationships. The Black women in his life (his mother and aunt who is hero-like in my opinion for the type of action of love) truly played the biggest roles in his shaping as a young boy to becoming a man. We got an inside view of his mind and the journey of him becoming who he is.

Seeing the enormity of his success just is positively moving and stirring. I found myself super proud with the scenes of the grand opening of his ultimate studio! Those parts of the docu had me feeling like I could conquer anything. All of the studio grand opening touched my heart and made me smile tears of joy in the simple fact that he is the embodiment of our ancestors’ love, hope and courage. He built on what they started and I can feel them saying, “Well done.”

It’s moving and emotionally charging.

He also allowed us into the parts of his life as a father to his son. You can tell all that he does and is doing is to be able to give out the love he wished he could’ve gotten from the father-figure in now life. His relationship with his son is so beautiful.

The intimate portrait, bio styled documentary was a great watch. I definitely recommend.

Now….I must speak on the issues that I took with aspects of his footprint on the landscape of film.

Perry loses me when he says things like, “…what we’ve done to each other as Black people who are successful…”. He referenced the boycotting Amos ‘N’ Andy had received in its time along with Alice Walker’s The Color Purple. Amos ‘N’ Andy’s controversy: this show (was a TV adaptation of the radio sitcom of two white men who “adopted stereotypical dialect, intonations, and character traits that had been established in the blackface minstrel tradition in the 1800s”) came out in the midst of the Jim Crow era. An era we all know served to present imagery of Black Americans in racist propaganda replete with racist stereotypes and tropes. And the actors weren’t white men in blackface but actual Black men in these roles. Which is also the similar criticisms Perry’s Madea character receives.

The two shouldn’t be paralleled. Amos ‘N’ Andy was clearly stereotypical mockery (and no condemning the actors at the time) while Walker’s book is “inspired, in part, by a story that Walker's sister told her, about a love triangle involving their grandfather.” It is an account of real life experiences—a real depiction of what Black people, specifically Black women, were going through in the early 1900s in the Deep South. On the heels of freedom (this is post American slavery with the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation) yet still facing the aftershocks of “ending” slavery (racism has never ended), Black women still faced slave-like treatment from former plantation & slave owners and now sexism & patriarchal treatment from their partners (I say now not in a sense of this being completely new). All while gaining more freedom in their outspokenness for the domestic plights they faced with their significant others and demanding equal rights.

Walker’s book and the following film adaptation received backlash on account of the increasing fracture between Black women and Black men in a post “free” society.

Perry also mentioned the not so pleasant views Langston Hughes had with Zora Neale Hurston and her usage of the Black Southern dialect in her writings. That too is incomparable because again, she conveyed real life. These were not caricatures she fictionalized for comic relief.

(please leave Alice Walker and Zora Neale Hurston’s works alone in correlation to yours)

Or in an appearance from Killer Mike (in Perry’s documentary) alluding to the fact that other groups of people don’t take issue with the negative depictions of their people in film.

One — yes they have and do. Has he spoken to any other ethnic group to ask?

Two — yes, your core demographic, who is Black, will have the most dialogue regarding your work. Who else would? White people? No, because you don’t make art for them. Your work is rooted through the lens of Black Americans. Of course the biggest critique will come from us.

We have a very different relationship with our own country and the world at large. Centuries of ridicule in minstrel shows with not Black (because yes, it wasn’t only white people performing in blackface to mock us) people donning blackface or in film with dangerous propaganda that single-handedly created a racist, terrorist group (k k k). We are still dealing with the aftermath of these harmful depictions and are in constant corrective mode. It’s a continual action.

He spoke about intention as well. And while I don’t believe Perry’s intention of the Madea character (or any of his characters in his films, shows or plays—that’s a different conversation…among other talking points surrounding him can be discussed in an entirely separate talk) was to be problematic it is very damaging to the representation of Black American women — two things can exist. Especially considering all the negative portrayals and images of us over the many, many, many years in all forms of media that the character fits into (again no condemnation on any of the actresses at the time).

But with everything I’ve said, Madea will just always have a kindred connection with me.

I was first introduced to Tyler Perry years ago from a cousin who lent me a VHS of both “Madea’s Family Reunion: The Play” and “Diary of a Mad Black Woman: The Play”. And when Madea came across my screen in that loud shiny red funeral squirt suit, there was an instant likability! I laughed more than I had from anything scripted — in fact, his plays were the first time I had ever watched a stage play. And from then, I have always had a special place in my heart for his plays and for Madea! I purchased 6 DVDs of his plays afterwards and the “Diary” film while I was in my freshman year in college and those plays got me through my first year.

I am glad he’s since retired the character and opened a new chapter of the work he’s putting out but I can acknowledge that Madea and the work pre-Madea’s retirement has been and is a source of joy for me.

And I think that’s what Tyler wants to do with all that he does.

Bring us joy.

#Maxine’s Baby: The Tyler Perry Story #Tyler Perry #cinema #Black America #film talk #Black American cinema #film industry #Southern culture #Black tumblr #Black American culture #might be typos

[findusinaweek]

WIP Wordsearch Game I was tagged by @brasideios. Ah! Very lovely reading your snippets!

And I’m adding in little How This Works section because I was a bit confused: The tagger gives 5 words to whomever they tag to find within their WIPs. The next person posts snippets containing those words and chooses 5 random words for the following group to find in their own WIPs. My words were: Spare, situation, certain, real and question. 

I did not have the word “real” in any of my WIPS, so I skipped it.

Question and Situation:

These are in my WIP unnamed Chapter 2 for Home Is Where The Heart Is. I hate that name and I resent myself for posting something with such an uninspired and boring title. I have so much trouble writing Brasidas’ pov. Also, I’m increasingly realizing I don’t do well writing too far from my own experiences so writing a hurt/comfort sickfic sounded great while I had a fever but now that I’m better I'm thinking ‘....he was real sick. Like a dog. Brasidas is sad ‘bout it. Idk eventually they kiss.‘ which is not a fun fanfic.

He takes a horse, reasoning to himself it is for a quick getaway or to help with Alexios. Either way, he is sure the horse will be helpful. As he follows the bird’s flight, Brasidas wonders just how deeply his affections for the mistios lie. This is madness, and he knows it, to follow a bird out alone into the woods. The other soldiers know not to question him and his leadership has been solid. He has been dedicated. He knows it is foolish to let his personal feelings override his duty but he does not turn back to camp.

It is not the dark itself he fears, but the unknown. He worries about how to be prepared, but whether his uncertainty is for the current situation or for their whole relationship, he does not know.

Certain: This is from the Chapter 3 (Where I Lay My Head) for Home Is Where The Heart Is. If I could just skip to this chapter than I’d be able to finish this godforsaken fic much easier.

When he awakens again it is to a cloth on his brow. The touch is gentle and he manages to crack his eyes open this time. At first the light stings and he must squeeze his eyes shut again quickly but he is fairly certain this is a face he recognizes. Spare:

From I Don’t Want To Talk. They make up, ok, but I wanted to write Alexidas bickering.

Alexios might say he doesn’t want to talk but his mouth keeps moving. He grimaces, makes a face as if he has tasted something rotten. “What do you want me to do Brasidas? To pretend I agree with your order? Spare me, for one day. I’m not one of your men to command, and not even this” he leans in closer, licks his lips. “Not even this gives you the right to decide my every action”. Brasidas breathes in deeply, can smell a hint of the wine on Alexios’ breath. He gives the other man a moment, letting Alexios sort himself out. “I don’t owe you”, Alexios pauses to spit. “Or Sparta, not really”. Brasidas lets a breath go.

Ok! You guyses turn! Sorry if I’m tagging y’all too much lately @stressfulsloth, @aquila-v, anyone else who wants to! I think ever other fic writer I know has done this or been tagged recently. Of course, no pressure, meus amigues que eu amo <3

#tag game #wip snippet #thanks brasideios!

[empty-cryptid]

Bruno’s Hobby

Here’s a WIP with a dramatic Bruno:

“And then, his husband Ricardo finds him on the ground, bleeding. A tragedy! “What could possibly have happened!?” He gasps as he runs to his love.” Bruno falls backwards onto his red armchair with his hand on his forehead.

“Taking his husband in his arms, he cries, “Carlos! Who did this? I can’t lose you, corazón!” Bruno dramatically holds his hands up and looks up, his pose pleading with destiny.

“Carlos takes a fistful of his husband’s shirt. “It…was Juan… Te amo, mi amor.” He whispers before falling against his chest.” Bruno wipes a tear from his cheek. 

“Ricardo holds Carlos tightly, crying into his hair. “Te amo, mi corazón. Te amo.” Ricardo whispers into his neck. “NOO! Juan! I will find you! You will pay for this!!” Ricardo screams.” Bruno clenches his fists close to his heart, then dramatically falls to his knees. 

“AH!” Some hands clapping startled him out of his imagination and he fell backwards. 

“Wow, that was really good, Tío Bruno!” Mirabel praises.

“The rats really liked your performance too. They like acting out that scene.” Antonio informs him.

“...Are those real tears? Wow, you have to teach me how to do that!” Mirabel says.

Bruno is staring at the two intruders, completely stunned at the sudden presence and praise. 

“Um…Thanks? Real? Yeah…It’s a heartfelt scene, so sue me.” Bruno wipes his face and gets up off the floor. “What are you two doing in here anyway?”

“We came to get you for dinner, but your performance and the rats were so good, so we waited until you were done.” Mirabel explains.

“Oh.” Bruno replies. He turns to Antonio. “The rats really like this part?”

Antonio nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, they like your dramatic acting and the scene is so intense.” he says.

Bruno gives a lopsided smile. “They really like doing plays with me?”

Mirabel giggles at his funny grin of disbelief.

“Mmhmm!” Antonio confirms.

Bruno chuckles. “That’s great! Want to help me undress the rats before dinner?”

Antonio and Mirabel give him a hand with the rats and they all go down to dinner together.

On the way down, both of them ask to make a play together some time. Bruno, of course, can’t say no.

#encanto #my writing #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #antonio madrigal #fanfic #wip

[sucker-for-steven-with-v]

Babbling continues..5 🥳

Jake safely took you to the hospital and Frank followed.

You took a few days to wake up.

The smell was the first thing you sensed then it was a white ceiling. You slowly gained the conscious and realised you were at the hospital.

You saw Jake sitting on one side of your bed and on the other side, there was Frank. You were not hallucinating, Jake was real.

You were feeling relieved to see Jake again and for Frank, you felt guilty. You were not cheating on him but felt like you were cheating on him as you still love Jake.

"You got back Frank" You felt Jake's gaze on you but your eyes were focused on Frank.

"Yes, I am. Sorry couldn't come sooner"

"It is alright, you did not hurt yourself, did you?" You checked him to see if there are any injuries. No blood stains on the shirts and no bruises on the face or hands.

"No, not a single scratch" He bent over to kiss you then Jake softly pushed you back to bed.

"You should be lying down Y/N"

"They are safe here with me. You better scatter off" Frank did not like it a bit about Jake. Jake was his kind. A dangerous, violent and selfish jerk who will beat the shit out of anyone who is in their way.

"apártate de mi camino, idiota. (get out of my way, dick)"

"incazzare (piss off)"

Frank and Jake were now fighting like children. Staring and cussing at each other. Before the staring contest was turning into a real fight, You intervened.

"It is quite amusing to see two grown-ass men fighting like children. But you both better stop it unless you want to be hospitalised."

Frank and Jake were still frowning at each other but listened to you and sat down.

"Okay, Frank this is my Ex-boyfriend, Jake. Jake, this is my boyfriend, Frank."

"Mummy costume guy. I know him"

"Yeah ugly mercenary, I know you too."

"Exactly, how do you know each other?"

"Heard few things here and there. None of that was a good thing. Tell me why you are here, mummy boy"

"To get Mi Amo back, Bruto"

"Don't call her that, you had your chance and you failed. Move on cry baby" Frank was so offended by what Jake has called you.

Your heart was racing after hearing what Jake has said. You did not want the pain but you were wanting Jake. You were doing what Marc and Steven have done to you. It was not fair for Frank.

You felt so guilty. But you cannot burst out here to clear your conscious. You were rationalising your thoughts so you cannot do anything impulsive.

"I am very tired at the moment. I want both of you to leave for now. I cannot rest unless you guys give me the space"

You kicked them both out.

You need to think hard now. What you want to do, what you should do and how you would do.

@violet-19999 @sleepyamaya

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #the punisher x reader

[cdmagic1408]

Onward Fan Art Shout Out - 16

Theme: Post-It / Lunch Note Art

Seeing as school seems to be back in session for most people nowadays, this week's Onward fanart post shall focus on art in which school-related canvas are used!

Post-it notes, napkins, flashcards, paper lunch bags...all these items are things one would typically use for school, right? I mean you'd think, oh! post-it notes for giving yourself reminders or...flashcards to use to help you study for a test, napkins to clean your hands with, and paper lunch bags to hold your lunch in...

Well...all of the following 8 artists below chose to cleverly and creatively use those things for much more than that... 😉

Artists

enri_tsuno_pictures - as someone who's been doing practice sketches on flashcards herself lately, I'm first just gonna say that I relate to this piece a lot lol, but I also really love the style of Ian and Barley too! They're both soooooo cute! And I especially enjoy the way they colored them in, with color but also in adding detail!

sandwichbagadventure - this one's pretty unique because this artist drew either themselves or their kid as Ian, but it's very sweet! It's very clear to me that they love Onward in this household and that they see Ian as a hero which is really REALLY great to see! Also that's a very cute turtle in the bottom left corner! 🐢

daedally_done - can't get enough of the manticore after last week? Well here she is again! this artist's canvas was a napkin! Certainty not an easy texture to work with—thin, bumpy, see-through—so I commend whoever drew this for taking on that challenge and for utilizing one of Barley's special questing rules: using what you've got! I also love the use of only black and red pen here! it helps in giving a very clear, recognizable picture of Corey!

ladybagman - this one's actually two for the price of one because this artist has two kids! And they used two different art styles for both bags which is cool! The one on the left is absolutely adorable! I love the expressions on both the bros! And Ian's eyes and smile are just precious on the bag on the right! Also, for context, "te amo" is Spanish for "I love you", awwwww 🥹

ktrosemary - an awesome pencil drawing of Barley on a post-it note! Very nice use of shadow under his chin and above his eyes! I also really like how this artist used a variety of tones with their pencil to create different shades of black and gray!

alc_artchive - I love how the artist of his paper lunch bag used BOTH sides of the bag to draw and include Ian AND Barley. That's the great thing about paper lunch bags, they're three dimensional! So art doesn't only have to be limited to one side! Also LOVE how they used the Onward font to spell out their daughter's name!

davestl - I really love the way this artist colored Laurel's hair! It's colored pencil, but not filling it in completely with colored pencil gives off a really nice textured effect! The whole drawing is very well textured, actually...Laurel's skin looks phenomenal too! But her hair is probably my favorite part of this whole post-it note art, there's something about it that just shines! 😍

lovemom.and.dad_napkin_notes - this drawing of the Manticore is really well done! Like for real: the line work is just 👌 Also the napkin provides such a great background that didn't need to be drawn, which is awesome! Again, resourcefulness and using what you've got is absolutely the best!

#reblogs encouraged! #onward #fanart friday #fanart #not my art #onward fanart #pixar fanart #disney fanart #instagram art #pixar onward #pixar #disney pixar #cd’s onward fan art shout out #ofaso #cdmagic1408

[misspeculiar-principe]

4:10:17 = 31 or 13 = 4, Part 2

April 13, 2023 at 4:10pm PHT:

1 Corinthians 15:55-57

Isaiah 4:32 🤯

Mindsets

Trust God's Plan

Nothing Ahead of You

Isaiah 41:10

Read the Comments 🤔

Chase Jesus! 🏃🏻‍♀️

Jeremiah 33:3 ☎️

You're Not Delayed or Behind

Matthew 28:5-6

Christ's Work Alone

The Greatest Love Story in the Universe

Innate Immunity

Bible Memorization Bracelets

"Let Men See Me"

God's Not Mad at You

Stop Dreaming and Start Living

Hallelujah!

@4englishapp

Praying Over Your Sleep

Whatever You're Going Through Right Now

Psalm 18:28

John 3:16

5 Wounds of the Ego (and the Antidotes)

My Superpower

Matthew 19:4

Oahu, Hawaii, USA 🇺🇲

A Prayer for Anyone Who Is Dealing With Grief or Hopelessness

Silence

Falls

Proverbs 3:5-6

Jesus, I Need You ❤

Get Out of Your Own Way

3 Things You Need to Come to Terms With in Life

From a Male Perspective

Prayer Changes Things 🙏🏼

Action Orientation

Hell Is Real

Jesus Holding a Crown

Holy Saturday

John 8:12

John 15:13 🤟🏻

John 10:14

"Until He Makes You"

You Don't Have to Compete

10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord)

A Prayer for Your Family

Hugs Are Like Bandaids 🩹

The Hardest Thing 🌻

The Best Definition of Success

Every Single Day

It's Not Always Materialistic

La Chinoise (1967)

With All My Heart 🥰

Psalm 149:3 🕺🏻

Embrace Every Moment

Living Hope

You Got Jesus

Amos 5:15

Lord, Let Your Will Be Done 🙌🏼

Just a Gentle Reminder

Romans 15:13

Whatever You Are Going Through...

Your Life Is Like a Cake 🍰

John 15:12

Only Jesus 😉

Love in the Afternoon (1972)

1 Peter 2:2

Trust His Process

Grace Is Not Something You Can Earn

The Gospel

Jesus Is Alive! 🙇🏻‍♀️

April

Matthew 6:25-34

1 Peter 4:8

He Found Me

Guess the Movie 🌠

Glory Be to God ☝🏼

Oxygen

The Power of Little Money in a Man's Hand

Little Women (2019)

Groom's Jacket 🤵🏻‍♂️

Hey, God 🥺

You Are God's Gift 🎁

A Letter 💌

Daily Privilege

I Didn't Say "I Love You"

God Is Not in a Hurry (NEW)

1 Corinthians 1:18

What Is the Best Way to Break Down a Passage?

To My Best Friend

Philippians 4:6-7

One Step at a Time 👣

It's Not That Christians Want to Shove Jesus Down Your Throat...

Pray for Your Friends

Me When I See a Field

I Have a Message for You 🐸

Luke 1:37

Tarzan (1999)

[allthewritem0ves]

Fox in Socks: Prologue

It all began sixteen years ago

On a rainy night in Roundtown

Just to the east side of the village

Where it went down

A knock on the door

Had awoken a Mr. and Mrs. Fox

And on their welcome mat

Was a baby in a box

Just on their doorstep, Mr. Fernsby and his wife saw a baby Knox in a box, swaddled in a blanket, crying. As Mrs. Fernsby took the baby inside, Mr. Fernsby looked from side to side hoping to see who knocked and dipped. He saw nothing and it was too dark and rainy to be sure anyway, so he quickly headed back inside.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay”, Mrs. Fernsby whispered to the baby, lifting him out of his box. Her husband rejoined her.

The baby only barely calmed down; his bawling downgraded to light sobbing.

“There you go, sweetie. Feeling any better?”, Mrs. Fernsby asked in a soft voice. The baby Knox still had tears flowing.

Just then, their young fox pup came downstairs, rubbing his eyes. “Mom, Dad? What’s going on?”

“Someone left this baby outside on the doorstep, Franky”, his father told him.

“What?!” Franky comes closer and sees that his dad was telling the truth. “Oh, wow!”

Upon seeing Franky, the baby stopped crying at once. The two adults were enchanted. Mrs. Fernsby in particular looked from the infant to her son. Mr. Fernsby had a smile on his face.

“Come here, Franky”, he said, curling his finger at his son. The boy approached. It seemed the baby Knox started giggling with glee at his fellow youth. “Would you look at that?”, the father said with intrigue.

“Guess he’s staying in your room tonight, son”, the mother said.

“Seriously, Mom?”

“Yes, seriously!”

Young Franky was awfully reluctant to have a baby, especially one that was most likely missing by its real family, stay with him. Besides, it also unofficially gave Mom and Dad permission to bust into his room without knocking.

——

The next morning, Franky and his father printed some “missing child” posters that read:

-Infant Knox

-8 lbs.

-Yellow fur with pink ring around neck

Please call number below

Mr. Fernsby, who was named Amos, helped his wife, Astrid, with the baby Knox during the wait for calls. Franky, on the other hand, looked on with crossed arms, feeling envious. Despite being eight years old, he really wasn’t a fan of all the attention this stranger was getting from his mom and dad. All he could hope for was that the baby’s real parents would realize their mistake and pick their child back up.

Over the course of a week, no calls came in and Franky felt the baby was getting a little too comfortable in his house. If he wasn’t careful, the baby would feel attached to Mom and Dad and not want to go back to his real parents.

——

So far, the Fernsby's have had the baby in their home for over a month now. Franky had a sneaking suspicion that those parents were just finished with their baby through and through; he knew that he was.

He was sick of hearing the baby crying whenever he wet himself and his mom and dad bursting into the room to check up on him. He was sick of coming home from school everyday and his parents not letting him talk about his day because that baby was such an attention hog. He was sick of not being allowed to watch his own TV shows since Mom and Dad let the baby watch stupid programs about singing dinosaurs and aliens who had screens on their bellies. The only upside was that the baby was silent around him; the drawback, of course, was that he had to be by the baby’s side at all times.

Later that evening, his parents were talking at the dinner table after the meal was done.

“This is serious, Amos”, Astrid said. “No one’s called yet.”

“I know, hon. But…it does have me thinking.”

“What about?”

“Maybe we were meant to have him. Maybe he was put on our doorstep for a reason.”

“Are you saying that…we should legally adopt him?”

Amos nodded. “If his real parents didn’t love him, then we will.”

Amos and Astrid

Made adopting this baby their top priority

All they have to do is

Get permission from the right authority

——

“…And so, by the power invested in me, without the biological parents claiming the child, I hereby make this adoption binding!”, the judge proclaimed. “Mr. and Mrs. Fernsby, he’s all yours now.”

Not caring about the other people in the courthouse, Mrs. Fernsby made a fool of herself with how happy she was. Her husband followed her outside, their now legally-adopted son in his arms. “I promise you that Mommy, Franky and I will always love you. Our home is your home now. Our family is your family too; you’re one of us. Welcome to the family, Nate.”

Franky eyed Nate with what was now brotherly disdain.

Ah, don’t you worry, dear reader.

This is just a phase all brothers go through

Why, I believe young Franky here

Will grow to love Nate too

#fox in socks #fanfic #reimagined #adaptation #oc #canon character #named in the adaptation

[matfinishfuckstheworld]

haven't done enough 'self care' today been just zoomin zoomin zoomin doing chores most of the day (and socialising which is Good but tiring). so. entire meme time.

s/i meme :D

give us a quick run down of your s/i!!

mat finish is basically just my Ideal Self. they are a sadomasochistic hedonist, they are shameless, they are an assassin. all of these are somehow intrinsic to my identity because i've always loved hitmen and to me violence and sex have always been the same thing.

post a meme that describes your s/i.

where does your s/i live? do they aspire to move or are they content with where they are?

mat tends to travel the world and occupy wherever they need to. sometimes they will settle and be a cool city assassin who is tied to a specific mob or similar.

but often they struggle with commitment, just like me, and the natural ebb and flow of attention on their activities leads them to drift around more. it's a necessity more than a choice.

often it's the f/o that makes them want to settle down anywhere.

what's a song that describes your s/i? even better if you have a playlist!

okay here is a random one from their playlist.

leather by tori amos is so good because it is so sexy and so tragic.

i think that sense of seeking sensation in a dizzying way but ultimately falling victim to wanting to be loved tender. it's the thing that is 'missing' for them (not for everyone! just for them).

thats their inherent contradiction.

what is your s/i's profession?

mat is an assassin, but as stated, it tends to be fairly random as to how and what subset. i put them everywhere because most of my fandoms are crime-themed or crime-adjacent, so it is easy to stick them just about anywhere.

what does your s/i have most in common with you? what's different about them?

we both want to fuck the same people lol. we are both desperate for affection.

as for differences... i do not murder people!!! but i am i would say a work in progress who is trying to learn to be less hurtful to the people in my life, and i feel a great amount of guilt for the way i have been in the past. perhaps thats why ive always had an affinity for villainous characters and why i take such a sick pleasure in punishing mat for their extreme and unambiguous crimes.

mat has a higher pain tolerance (and pain/arousal threshold) than i ever could. i'm the kind of person who it takes a few tries to get what i need done at the doctors and thats if i manage at all. i want tattoos someday but i am nervous about wasting my deposit if it's too much for me. so mat is wish fulfilment in that aspect. they are resilient in such a twisted way and i would much prefer that to what i am now. i am soooo drawn to violence and to the idea of having my mind and body made into a canvas for someone elses designs and abuse. but i can't actually do that. :(

as psychological masochists we are about equal, but there's only so much that mp3s can do to my addled brain whereas mat gets real horrible people who want to get inside their mind and do horrible and irreversible things to break them down.

if your s/i was an animal, what would they be?

tricky to say. i think they are dog-coded. this is counter to me as i think i'm pretty cat-coded lol. but call them a good boy and you can see the wagging tail in their eyes!!!

maybe they could be a wolf. (i think so too.) stereotyped as an independent and brutal predator, but actually dependent on the protection of those around them.

how did you get the idea for your s/i's backstory?

mat was originally a vbros oc because i wanted a venturesona who could fuck rusty and brock lol. and there are such sexually charged assassins in the vbros universe. so it was a natural fit for my interests. i decided that because herr trigger was just such a fun design and concept (he literally fucks his guns and i am SUCH a gunfucker.), he was an ideal mentor for them, but generally outside of vbros canon they have a similar figure - a dangerous mentor they are raised by and who is responsible for the death of their parents, someone who is unerringly confident, sexually perverted but without involving them ('daddy needs his alone time with his ak-47 ok why don't you go outside and play with the ice machine'), someone they are all mixed up about - they look up to them, they want to be with them, they want to be them.

mat was intended to be that kind of deconstructive, 'where are they now' look at a specific child hero subtype the way that rusty is that for johnny qu3st. specifically, they are the trained killer girl who is all grown up and had so much transmasc swag that they weren't a girl actually and has a MULTITUDE of intimacy problems that they try to pave over with sensation and sick thrills.

give us an example s/i outfit (or describe it).

mat's signature look is all black. turtleneck + bondage harness that serves no actual purpose except to signal their perversion. big coat that they look a little too small for only further emphasised by the skintight rest of their ensemble. boots! boots.

what are some of your s/i's major skills?

well you see. they are very good at killing people. also masochism-as-superpower allowing them to withstand torture. very silly. but sexy.

what is your s/i afraid of?

their few extreme sources of pleasure becoming dulled over time until the only thing left is to fucking die.

they envy their marks, a lot.

if you had to compare your s/i to an already existing fictional character, who would it be?

well, given their first name and backstory, obviously mat is strongly inspired by math1lda lando. i have... difficult feelings about the film she originates from. i watched it constantly as a child while daydreaming about escaping my own abusive situation some similar way. being swept off my feet by a killer with a heart of gold and granted the power to execute my own revenge against everyone who ever wronged me. and falling in love with my killer mentor too even though they will never love me back.

then i found out about the backstory of why besson wrote that film, and what happened to portman during/after filming, and also i mean i only ever watched the european cut, and it all left such a disgusting taste in my mouth. i felt lied to even though all of the subtext was right there, but i was a kid! i didn't know better! so i guess i was eager to reclaim the feelings i had for the movie as a kid and rewrite them in a way that didn't have a genuinely harmful context.

the roles portman has done as an adult contributed to mat too, at least unconsciously. bl4ck swan is queer psychosexual fodder and it doomed me. and i mean, lé0n is not her only intimate fucked up mentor-mentee movie. v 4 vendetta is too. regardless of how you feel about the changes from the comic, that movie was sooooo much for me as a kid. the mindgames, the transformation through torture, the violent subversion, trans energy of becoming v (even though it was actually the comic that followed through on that properly) it was so formative to everything i value today.

this is the first time i have actually addressed their original inspiration publicly. it's a can of worms i was hesitant to open. in the same sense that vbros played with the kid hero archetypes and made them all fucked up adults with weird proclivities, mat is an expression of just another kid archetype in media, grown up and fucked up. so, in the same sense that rusty is so much more than just grown-up johnny quest, i would ask that mat is not seen as literally mathilda, because... they're not, and i think if they were, that would only be perpetuating the harm of the movie.

mat takes some cues from mathilda, but she wasn't their only inspiration. mat is ultimately just... me. they are the me that looked upon dizzying adolescence (spending most of it as a 'teenage girl') and suddenly being seen as a sex object with decreasingly safe clothing and behaviour options and the victim blaming terror of sexual assault and pregnancy being drummed into me and having nothing but abusive relationships as a model for romance. as an adult, i tried to carve out my own sexuality and vulnerability in a way that wasn't so fucking uncomfortable. i wanted to accept objectification and assault but in a degendered form, in a form that could also be tough-guy masculinity as much as it could also be the penetrability we inexplicably (well, explicably but we would be here all night) read as feminine. mat is the culmination of all of that work and psychodrama and i am rather pleased with how they have turned out and transcended their initial inspiration.

has your s/i's story changed since you created them or has it stayed relatively the same?

the basic premise has stayed the same, but they have different versions for different universes. so, of course vbros has canon characters to take the roles of people in their backstory, and i've been building up their dc version, manikin, solely to selfship with hugo, and then there's their psychon4uts version in the grulovian mob, at odds with the titular organisation.

[cinnamon-phrog]

I'm,,, not really feeling so good right now.

See, there's this guy, who I'll call... John Doe becuase his real name is just as generic.

So, John is a bastard. He gets away with everything. Students hate him, teachers hate him, he makes fun of everyone and harrasses everyone at my school. Everyone weaker than him.

Same goes for his three friends. The only friends he has. They are almost as bad.

He pushed me into a metal gate, once. And pushed me while I was walking back to class.

I told a stff member, but they said they just couldn't do anything about it. He just does his own thing.

And, since my school is a 'Special School', he doesn't get punished or expelled for his behaviour.

He bullies children relentlessly. Screams and yells and acts like a bratty child and ENJOYS it. He knows the power he has over everyone. He knows he won't get punished for his actions. So do his friends.

That's why they target me.

It started, becuase I used to be friends with one of John's three friends when I was like 12.

I was a bit of a bossy kid, always wanting to play specefic games. And I wasn't at all in tune with others' emotions.

As we grew more distant, he begun to resent me.

Made it his life goal to make my life at school a misery.

So he befriended John Doe and the two others.

I only fought back like. Once or twice.

And do you know who got in trouble? Do you know who got called a bully?

Me.

I was told by my foster carer at the time that to deserve this much hate I'd had to have done something awful, but when I tried to tell her how awful they were making my life and how I felt, she said: "wElL hOw Do YoU kNoW tHeY dOn'T fEeL tHe SaMe??? YOU COULD'VE RUINED THEIR LIVES, TOO!"

But I never.

I haven't done shit. I was a bossy little child years ago. That was it.

Everyone seems to judge me for who I was as a child, before my foster carer knocked my bad behaviour right out of me.

I was a brat til I was 10. After that age I hadn't been out of line for real since then. I've been blamed for a lot of bad shit by my fc, but that's it. I never really did any of the things she's ever accused me of. She never beleives me.

But I think she's beggining to beleive that John Doe and his friends are just a bunch of little shits.

What's brought on my rant today is this:

See, there's a unisex toliet stall right by my classroom. I'd use the girl's one but there's always somebody else there and I never liked public bathrooms.

So I went in.

And then I heard John Does' inconic hiyena cackling and knew I was done for.

His friend always sits outside in the corridors, and I heard him inform John about my whereabouts in the toliet stall.

His cackling grew louder.

He pounded his fists on the door. I was scared.

I knew he couldn't comer in, I'd locked the door. But I was worried what would happen if I'd stepped out.

So I took my time.

Then, the door vibrated and crahed loudly as John Doe thew a chair at it, still laughing. He threw it again.

Why didn't a teacher come? I hear you say.

Well, as established, nobody really gives a shit about what John does. So he's allowed to wonder the corridors as he pleases.

Also, all the teachers ans staff were bussling about with this new stupid thing they're calling 'enrichment clubs', so the corridors were bassically a ghost town and, in my school, at least, the sounds of crashing and banging are not unusual.

I knew I had to staep out of the stall eventually.

But I was so fucking scared.

I was worried that, as soon as I stepped out, the last thing I'd see would be those stupid plastic blue chairs flying towards me.

So I waited.

When I stepped out, there was John Doe. Smirking and laughing with his friend.

The chair was strewn on the floor next to me.

It's a good thing my classroom was next to the bathroom stall, and it's a miracle that a staff member and one of my friends were in there, or fuck knows what might've happened.

I was now on the verge of tears.

I told the staff member what had happened. I knew it wouldn't amount to anything, but he was my favourite teacher and even if he couldn't do anything, I trusted him the most becuase he always believes me.

He went to give John Doe a 'talking too', which is just a small "Oh hello there Mr. Doe sir, will you please refraim from phycological torture of you fellow peer please? No? Okay, have a nice day! :)"

It makes me sick that people like this exist.

That peiople like to do this to other human beings.

I know there are a lot worse people out there, but John Doe has gotta be one of the worst people I know.

I wanted to cry so badly right there. No matter what I tell anyone, they can't do anything. "Oh, Lexie, just ignore them." They FOLLOW me.

"Oh, Lexie, you're overreacting!" oh yeah making a student feel worthless about this kinda situation is BRILLIANT well done absolutely killer teaching skills no wonder suicide in teens is higher now.

"Oh, Lexie, maybe they just have a crush on you!" THEY ARE TEENS. THEY ARE DOING THIS FOR THE SOUL PURPOUS OF MAKING PEOPLE'S LIVES A MISERY. THAT IS THE UTMOST WORST EXCUSSE FOR NOT DOING SHIT ALL ABOUT THIS SITUATION.

By the way, I'm not trying to get anyone's attention. I'm not trying to get you sll to go "Oh, pity poor luttle Lexie who can't do shit about her life right now."

I hate being that kind of person.

I hate making people feel sorry for me.

I just wanted to wriote this out, feel what I wanted to feel, say what I've wanted to say for a very long time.

Before, I wanted to cry.

Now, I want to fucking scream.

I only have a couple more years at this school. I've made it this long, I can do a couple more years.

Let's just hope I don't get rammed by a chair in the meantime.

#cw vent #tw vent