#but the fact it’s so far and out of state got me 😬😬

[25ticupsinacupboard]

I wanna know how in the world I ended up getting a letter from a college in New Jersey when I live nowhere even close to there

[luffyvace]

Her brook Idk if your req are closed so read this at your convenience 🙏

I wanted to ask for a male harpy reader strawhat hc or if not just hc with luffy, more specifically based off a bird with heavy feathers like a snowy owl cause I’d love to imagine that he complains about the heat a lot and wonders why he’s sweating more then usual but it’s just luffy hugging his legs cus he’s so soft

Love your work brook 🙏☺️

nope! Still open lovely anon<3

when I tell you I did NOT know what a harpy was 🤦‍♀️ I had to do research for accuracy 😅😋

but don’t worry it’s all good I’ll be more than happy to do your request!

I’m telling you right here right now luffy would most definitely be interested in a reader like this!! You know how many unique animals and such he tried to recruit into the crew that weren’t even human?? 😂💗

and thank you!! I’m so happy you enjoy my headcanons :) that makes me very happy!

Okay I’m just saying…….like chopper…if you look more animal than human….his first thought is to eat you

”you think he tastes good?” 😋

😭😭

IT JUST IS !!

moving on…♡

He thinks your wings are really cool

I mean a 6.5 ft wing span…….I do too!!

definitely wanted to measure them to check after he learned that

to which he got himself wrapped up in the measuring tape

Both you and luffy eat “strange” animals

such as sloths, monkeys, porcupines, squirrels, opossums, armadillo’s, anteaters and sometimes parrots…..other birds too 😋🍴

No animal is safe 😭

every island you go to the two of you immediately start scouting for whatever variety of yummy foods you could find

”I’ve got news for you two—normal people don’t eat those animals”

- Nami ♡

it taste absolutely delicious to you!!

honestly you probably got Luffy into eating them

which so funny because he already loves eating all types of weird things

which is probably why he was so easy to convince him to eat it too

like he would normally see a monkey and go oh cool a monkey!

but now….😈😈

not all the time tho

mostly when he’s hungry

……….so I guess I lied, yes all the time 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️

he saw you eating a armadillo with some sloth on the side and was like

oooo I gotta try that 🤪🤪

you might dislike for cats seeing as though a harpy’s predator is a jaguar

Least baby harpy’s anyway…

still! 😠

it’s good for you that the sunny is big once y’all upgrade from merry

it has plenty of rooms with shade for you, since a harpy’s natural habitat is rainforests

and they mainly stay in the shade anyway :)

franky probably had a room built that simulates a rainforest for your comfort 💕

like how he simulated the grass

once Luffy found out harpy��s are rare to find and you found the tori tori no mi - model: harpy- it was pretty much settled for you to join the crew :)

like he loves rare stuff!

it’s like treasure!

and you know darn well a pirate will fight for his treasure! 😼

you use your high pitch bird call to reunite the strawhats whenever you guys get separated (which is like- every time you go on an adventure 😀 besides the point-)

it’s loud enough and ranges far enough to the point where it’s more efficient than yelling

very much so comes in handy when your in danger too

also not to mention luffy is 100% gonna wanna fly on your back since you have wings

he probably won’t even ask

he’ll just rocket onto your back while your flying one day and refuse to get off cuz it’s fun

it likely ends with him spotting something cool, telling you to go over to it and getting you two into trouble

just be ready for the

😬😁 ✊😠 💥💥 😖😓

sequence again

flying also comes in handy when saving the strawhat’s BUTT!

You and Robin like 🦅🦅

LOLLL

but no fr you literally just swoop in and save the day 🦸

SUPERRRRRRR M/N!! *super man pose* better yet *franky pose*

Zoro will also appreciate it if you catch him while falling because I swear that man is always getting smacked around-

same with Nami 🧡

another time

Robin was stating facts about harpy’s when the strawhats first met you, and you were confirming

she mentioned that they typically lived 35-45 years (but she was talking about the ANIMAL.)

Luffy—of course—mistook this

“WHAAAT?! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME OUR NEW NAKAMA’S GONNA DIE SOON?!”

*Nami steps in*

”CALM DOWN IDIOT THATS NOT WHAT SHE SAID!!” 💥💥

“……..and besides..! M/n’s not an animal! He’s still a person you know?! Sheesh…..of course he’s gonna live the lifespan of a human”

Sanji will of course cook any animal of your request into your meal

if it’s more nutritious for you—then certainly he’ll do so!

he always prioritizes nutritional value in his meals, and thats different for everybody!

Luffy however….he will get annoyed with 😂

”GO AWAY STUPID *kicks across room* YOU DONT NEED THIS TO SURVIVE! THIS IS FOR M/N!”

your like one of the few men in his life Sanji doesn’t hate

okay I know that was more harpy facts related so now I’ll get into the scenario you mentioned 😅💗

Luffy uses you for warmth in the winter (all the strawhats do)

like chopper ;P

especially with your large and soft wings

”M/n…spread your wings out..we need your warmth..”

-Zoro

you’ve been complaining about the heat all day

You felt like you were ON FIRE.

like seriously?! What was gon on today?!

it’s not like birds need to shed……so why are you burning up!??

”mmmm…your so warm M/n!”

”LUFFY?!”

”shishishishishi!”

”no wonder I felt heavier than usual!! Get off me Luffy!”

”awwhhhh WHYYYYYY?”

”what?! Why?! Because I’m burning up! I already have all these feathers! You’ve got to get off of me Luffy!”

*whines* “but mmmmm/nnnnnn! Your so waaaarrrrm!”

*sighs and face palms* *attempts to pry him off*

“noooooo m/nnnnnn! I don’t waaaaanna get ooofff!!”

Luffy practically had you in a literal choke hold

he was not about to let you go.

and you know he’s got himself wrapped alllllll the way around 😂😂

once again thank you for the compliment my dear!!

Hopefully I did your hcs justice and that you enjoyed them! <3

[kittyball23]

hi again!! can u make a lil AU fanfic where it takes place at the time after branch sees floyd in the diamond prison, and they feel very sad and miss each other after branch leaves, so they end up singing "teardrops on my guitar" by taylor swift about each other with a few lyric changes such as one to be "i laugh cause it's just so funny" and the name "drew" in the song is replaced with "branch" and "floyd"? oh, and the girl in the song can be referencing to poppy too. if you're busy with another fanfic, i understand! thank you <33

Hi! I finished this - and I apologize in advance if some of the changed lyrics are cringe 😅😬

Teardrops (a Trolls fanfic)

Despite Branch’s physical presence within the caterbus - his girlfriend by his side and Tiny Diamond at the wheel - it was his mind that was a grand distance away.

The situation couldn’t exactly be helped - he’d known this from the start. There wasn’t much he could do without the Family Harmony breaking the diamond imprisonment. And the plan hadn’t been thought of much aside from actually infiltrating the Rage Dome and reaching Floyd. This little fact had made itself obvious when they’d arrived and done little more than have a brief reunion.

But just because it had been brief didn’t mean that it hadn’t been meaningful. No, in fact, it very much was.

And the fact that it was is what brought the blue Troll to his troubled state. He couldn’t forget the way his brother’s face lit when he saw him, nor the warmth that blossomed within his own chest for his own joy at seeing him too. And Branch was very much delighted when Floyd had realized that he was a man and not a baby anymore, unlike their older brothers’ beliefs. But he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Floyd was the bro who had always known him best. Which is why he’d known that Branch would remain in grave danger should he have stayed behind.

Still though, hardly a minute’s time for a reunion was certainly not enough to make up for the twenty-plus years absence, and he missed him dearly.

So, as Tiny Diamond maneuvered Rhonda throughout the hallways of the Rage Dome and Poppy comforted the still teary-eyed Crimp, Branch comforted himself in the manner that Floyd had told him of years prior: by singing.

“Floyd looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see

That I want and I'm needing everything that we should be…”

__________________________________________

Naturally, Floyd missed Branch as well. He’d sang to himself quietly plenty of times before within the diamond imprisonment.

And so, tuning out his other brothers’ argumentative words, and Velvet and Veneer’s excited chatter as they made their way to the racecar that would bring them to the Rage Dome’s red carpet, he lamented a tune.

“I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about

And she's got everything that I have to live without…”

He hadn’t caught Branch’s companion’s name, but with the assumption that his little bro was now a man, the pink-haired Troll who’d come to assist in the rescue was likely his brother’s girlfriend. He wouldn’t know of how they’d met, but he did know that she probably had been by Branch’s side far longer than himself. A tinge of jealousy pricked at him - envy for the time she had gotten to know him as he was now - but Floyd cast it away to sing some more.

“Branch talks to me, and we find that we’re still so chummy

And I’m glad to see that he’s all I ever thought he’d be…”

Time had passed, it was true, but the magenta-haired Troll was delighted to find that Branch was still elated to see him. His brother was truly grown now, and it was something that filled Floyd with great pride.

__________________________________________

Branch, on the other hand, wished he could say the same for Floyd’s condition. His older brother was looking quite sickly within the imprisonment, oddly transparent and hair streaked with white.

“He said I had to go, but it just isn’t right,

I wonder if he knows I thought of him for many nights…”

He’d told his brother he wasn’t leaving without him, and yet he did. While it was apparent that there were no better options in the rush of the moment, it still wasn’t sitting well with Branch. Emotion poured into the last verse of his song as a result.

“He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar

The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star

He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do…”

When Branch was finished, letting the last notes linger off into the air, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. The song helped him feel a little better, but he wouldn’t feel true relief until he knew his brother was freed. He felt a hand pat him on his back, and looked up to see Poppy. She flashed him a gentle smile of reassurance, and he reciprocated along with a small nod, focusing back on the mission and what they had to do next. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but somehow and in some way he would ensure that Floyd - and the rest of their brothers that had been wrongly captured - would come out of this fix safe and sound.

[scienceoftheidiot]

Hi! So I'm going to catch up on the latest chapter of All The Hope asap, but do you mind sharing some of the inspirations and thought processes you had behind writing this story? :D

Aahh don't worry about catching up, the fic is there and not going away, read when you can 🥰

I'm so sorry this is going to be... Extremely long... 😬😬😬 oops 😅

Sooo there are a number of thought processes I've gone through when writing this specific fic! I'll try to explain while being not too spoilery 😅

(Edit : in case anyone wants to read the fic, you can find it here : All the hope that I lost, you have found)

First, as I say in the notes of the fic, I had the idea of this because I had already written a fic where Roy didn't get healed after Promised Day and stayed blind, but in this one it was understood in the background that Grumman had pressured the other generals so he'd be able to keep him.

The result is a fic where, inbetween the lines, Roy has a LOT of pressure on himself, has to go through rehab and at the same time has to prove he can still be kept in the army - which means the frat laws still apply, and neither he nor Riza have much brain power left to try and address this, which makes for a weird power imbalance and Roy not knowing where he stands and what he wants out of the relationship (which. Is what backfires at the beginning, because, he in fact, knows very well, and what he wants is NOT nurse Riza 🙃). So the whole setting is different.

I still like this fic, and many things that happen in it, but it's pretty unrealistic even by FMA standards, lol (I also forgot to take into account that Havoc himself would need a lot of rehab before he comes back 😅), and I wanted to explore the other, more realistic option imo, that Roy wouldn't be kept in the army's ranks.

Because with Roy out of the army, so many things can actually work better.

Of course the obvious, and what Roy realizes himself in the first chapter, is that the frat laws don't apply. More on that later.

But there's also the fact that Roy, as a General (Grumman would definitely not leave him a Colonel after Promised Day at least in part because so many generals have died 😅), would have overseen Ishval's restauration from afar, and not be hands on. Because he'd have a lot of work, he'd probably be appointed to be the head of East Command at the very least (Grumman even talks about it in the manga), and while Roy this way can ensure there's enough funds and men and help going and he would have been far more able to pull money from the state and rich people of Amestris to fund the restauration, he would also be way too precious to be allowed to just roam around Ishval helping rebuild.

Basically, in post Promised Day Amestris, an able bodied General Mustang who wouldn't use alchemy much is far more precious to the army than an overpowered, but blind Roy. Not only do I like to pull the rug from under his feet because I'm just evil like that, I like how he's never been that powerful, and yet. While there's a lot of talk about how Amestris is pretty good at accepting disability (no meta from me there, I don't have much to say), it's stated plainly a couple of times that unless they can be fit with an automail, disabled soldiers are no use. See Havoc. Anyway that's the way I followed, because even with Grumman on top, the army stays the army, and the army is not a nice institution. At least Roy and Havoc got a pension 🤷🏻‍♀️ I don't think they could have expected much more.

So overall, politically speaking, having Roy stay in the army is interesting, but action wise a little less. Alchemy wise, too. Because I want Roy to use his new overpowered alchemy (he will !!! And not only to transmute tea, spoons and squeaky door hinges, lol)(this fic is very slow aaab I am sorry), and if he's not on the field or only as a last resort against some incredibly powerful enemy.... That's not of my interest. (Keep in mind that's just MY train of thoughts, lol, I am not dissing any fic that does that. I want to read them. Lol). And to be honest I don't see any other reason that just being kicked out where Roy would leave the army (in manga/BH. In 03 I have different ideas but this reply is already soooo long).

Another point is that I wanted to explore Royai as an established couple, but still stay within the lines of the original story. And here I have the perfect setting : no frat laws anymore, they needed each other to basically survive during and right after Promised Day, and I had them make this deal that if Riza helps Roy, she has to let him help her, too. In this fic, the result of Promised Day is that now they are codependent more than ever, and I wanted to explore that, how their relationship shifts but in the end stays the same, and how it helps them move on.

It's definitely NOT a sane way to recover IRL, I know lol, but I think for them there is no other way. Their lives are already so entwined, it couldn't work differently in this specific case.

Last but not least : I'm an angst monster. Taking everything from Roy and fucking up Riza? Yes please let me play with that 😈 How is someone as stubborn and ambitious as Roy going to deal with having his ambitions crushed, and his autonomy seriously hampered? How is Riza going to deal with what was basically her goal by procuration disappearing, and her job radically changing? How are they both going to go on? Together, of course. And as I had Roy say himself in the fic, maybe they can allow themselves that, even if it's temporary, because, well. They don't have much else left. And it's not hurting anybody so why not.

So with this as a (clearly not as defined at the time) base I went on and then the events just clicked.

However. I want to say a couple of things about this fic, more in a logistics way :

First, the number of chapters is a lie. I have hastily cut all the "conjoined" chapters I had in half to get a rough number, but in fact there are some chapters that I keep as one, some that I divided that I had not planned on dividing. So take the number of chapters as an indication that the fic is mostly written and almost finished, but it won't be 27 chapters for real. How many ? No idea lol. Probably more around 20 judging by how it's going.

Also. This fic is only the beginning of Roy and Riza's journey, be it together or to rebuild Ishval. It will end with the (nice!) big event that was already foreshadowed, leaving a lot to do still. But if I find the strength to write yet another crazy long fic, there will be a second part (ok uh. Second part is already 20K long and has a rough outline. I don't write linearly lol).

This whole fic btw is also there for two reasons : 1) considering I am (have been for YEARS) writing an original novel with a blind main character I just HAD to try and write blind Roy, couldn't pass on that, and 2) I have an incredible enabler in the person of @qs63 who just pushes me, gives me lots of inspiration, and reads all I write and is just so supportive, and who is a great writer herself - we even wrote a whole fic together, and it was A BLAST. This fic wouldn't be there without her because I didn't want to just write yet another blind Roy fic and she persuaded me the idea was good. And now I think it's one of the best I've been working on (with the one we wrote together, lol).

Aaaanyway sorry this is a lot of rambling and thoughts and this was very long, but thank you so so much for asking about this fic. I just love to talk about it and read how people feel about it ❤️❤️❤️ thanks !

[still-a-morosexual-help]

hi hiiii!! I didn't know you got into twst! and the fact you got to book 5 already surprises me since i got stuck on riddle's overblot fight for a month 😭

anyway highway, may i ask your thoughts on ace and deuce, if it's alright with you! :'

I actually finished book 5 'bout 3 days ago and I'm in a state of 'well now what :/ '

Anyone know when 6 is coming out?

I'm IN LOVE with MC's friend group, particularly the dumb and dumber, buy one get one free, double act that is ace & deuce. They're besties but they also think about killing each other twice a day. It's genuinely distressing to see one without the other. They're also such good friends to MC? And I really like how they all started out together. Love 'em both but Deuce has got a special place in my heart <3

Also here's my overall thoughts that I need to get out;

Leona may be a dick but he's so pretty it's nauseating

Idia makes Levi look like a party animal - that's....that's insane right?

Speaking of om!, the twst characters make the OM! characters look like well-adjusted, stable, functioning individuals

Love that there's a rule about how you can't use magic to fight at school when the students are actively trying to kill each other at least thrice a week

Hate hate hate the mickey mouse thing, he moved close to the screen at one point and my whole body jerked back

Loved the scarabia book but on a pillow in their dorm's common room there's a little patch that looks like m*ckey's head and i couldn't take my eyes off it the the entire time. It felt like a threat.

Whenever I see Malleus's "I'm afraid of losing you" line all I can think about is that tweet about balancing your entire mental health on the continued survival of an animal with a far smaller lifespan than you

Also can't get enough of what they did with his character design, you can't make Malleus look and sound and act like that - in a way that screams mystery and danger and then turn him into a pretty chill guy who's really kind of a dork who info dumps about gargoyles and adores his little tamagotchi and has cake based childhood trauma and arrives hours early whenever he's invited to something because he gets so excited about it and would do anything to make his foster dad(!!!????) and little human bestie happy. Im shaking. They said 'looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll who could definitely still kill you' and they were so right for it

Rook's like...in love with Vil, right?

This is the second time I made an oc specially for a game and then had the game add some throw away detail that worked so well with my specific mc? (1:) named my OM! MC 'Eliza' short for E-Lizard/A-Lizard - Mammon's favourite possession ended up becoming the chocolate lizard keychain he bought with MC. (2:) Figured I should finally break away from ocs/mcs all having naturally dark hair - so made one with orange hair, gave them a couple pale pink highlights for funsies - 3 books later Floyd starts calling MC 'Lil' Shrimpy' and I realise their hair is the colour of boiled shrimp😬🤡

I'm in love with Epel's natural accent??

All these books are a lesson in why you don't let your cat eat random shit off the ground jfc

Anyway I had alot of fun! Shoutout to everyone who recommended this for giving me another hyperfixation!!

[the-lancasters]

A selection of the correspondence between Robert and Alexandra over the last 18 months

AN: Trying something a bit different with the narrative style! 😬 Their relationship has been slowly growing in the background but haven't actually seen each other since the wedding.

Previous| Beginning  | Next

Transcript under the cut

Dear Alexandra,

I hope you were serious about writing those letters, unfortunately it is the most reliable form of communication out here on the ship - the internet is terrible and with 300 crew members trying to contact their loved ones…well lets just say it can turn into an all out brawl sometimes. Being a prince gives me no special privileges on this ship - it's actually something I love most about serving. I'm not Prince Robert, I’m just Lieutenant Lancaster.

Re-adjusting to life on board after the wedding has been interesting - but it always is after I go home for any length of time.

The guys gave me shit for all the fancy dinners and dancing - they all watched the wedding broadcast on board apparently and said that my hat was 2 degrees off centre. Like they could tell from a live feed!

I enjoyed showing you Lancaster Palace in my last days on shore, it's a special place to me. Kissing you in the moonlight at the music pavilion will stay with me for a very long time.

Robert

Dear Robert,

I was half convinced you were joking about the letter writing, but I am glad to be proved wrong for once! Things have really quietened down here - Charles and Vic have left for their honeymoon, and the city is going back to normal after the frenzy of events.

It's surreal going back to my little job after being a part of something so massive. I think my colleagues now look at me differently. They haven’t been all jokes like yours, more like there's this invisible wall that has come down between us. I think they see me as ‘different’ now. Even though they already knew that my father is the Earl of Winslow! I guess it's a bit more real for them now.

I also enjoyed the personal tour of Lancaster Palace. It's quickly becoming special to me too.

Alexandra

Dear Alexandra,

I'm sorry to hear things are awkward at your job. Would it help finding a new place? I remember you saying that there was only so far you could go at this charity organisation and that a bigger one would give you more space to grow.

I can sympathise with the whole ‘looking at you differently’ thing. But in my experience they often settle down soon and remember that you are actually a person, and more than a picture on TV..

Robert Robert,

I did it! I got the job at the Global Women in Business Foundation! I start in two weeks and it cannot come soon enough. The people here are still not gone back to the prewedding state like you promised and I'm looking forward to escaping the staring.

I don’t know how much you see of the news out there but Vic is coming under some heavy criticism at the moment and I don’t know how she keeps that smile on her face during engagements. I went to visit her and she's pretty distraught.

No one seems to be helping her - is this normal? I don’t know what to do.

Alexandra

Alexandra,

I'm sorry to hear that Victoria is struggling, I know that it can’t be easy coming into this particular family. I'm also concerned about the fact that she doesn’t have any support. I’ve contacted Charles to see what the hell is going on. From my experience the staff around you make or break you as a royal. So tell her to get going on that part and the rest should follow.

Robert

Robert,

That was some sage advice you gave. And I don’t know what you said to Charles but all of a sudden the roadblocks seemed to clear! I don’t know if Charles was the roadblock but someone was and he may have just pushed them aside. Whatever the reason - thank you. Victoria seems more like her old self again.

Things are going well at the foundation, I've managed to even make a couple of friends! Which is helpful since Vic isn’t exactly free for after work drinks anymore.

Have they told you yet about your next leave? Maybe we could have dinner?

Love, Alex

Dear Alex,

Dinner with you sounds like the most perfect thing in the world to me right now. But it doesn’t look like I'll be back this year. My mother is, of course, devastated that I won’t be home for Christmas. It's her favourite time of year, and with Victoria being pregnant she seems to have put the ‘perfect family’ lever in overdrive.

Maybe she is over compensating for all the Christmas' that we would spend in separate parts of Sanderton House. Margaret and I would hide up in the nursery and bribe one of the maids to bring us snacks while we played board games.

So while dinner is off the cards, for a while at least, maybe I could call you? We will be in port next week and with most guys going on shore I will actually have a chance at having a semi-private phone call.

Love, Robert

Dear Robert,

I will be waiting by the phone!

Love, Alex

[diaperedfitzypoo]

So I love looking at all the beautiful women/ ABDL/Diapered women! I love the ones who mess and look so cute and comfortable in their diaper!

I guess you can say I'm addicted to it. So bad I use to have over 6000 screen shots saved...😒😬🫨😓 I'm only a shamed of the fact I am taking up so much space with nonsense I can pretty much look at any time.

I see so many of the same pictures over and over. Other people re posting pictures I seen back in the late 90s, when it was hardly a known fetish. The early 2000s... or even reposting other people's pictures on here...

I feel like I have seen a majority of ABDL photos throughout the years...

Point being saving screen shots is pointless and a qast of data and space...

Not to mention incriminating to my personal life.

I just got a new phone and I'm not taking any screen shots. I'm done with it! I won't post other people's pictures from their profile no matter how much I love them!

I need to communicate and message the beautiful women who post on here that I follow.

I'm pretty shy and am nervous, I feel like a weirdo or a perv when I try to comment, so I just try to compliment and be brief.

Sometimes I really wish I could really open up and talk to a real AB women or just a DL.

Not a mommy! I don't know how many ti.es I need to post saying this! NOT LOOKING FOR A FAKE ASS MOMMY! YOU ALL WHO TRY TO FOLLOW ME AND TRY TO MESSAGE ME, NONE OF YOU HAVE BEEN REAL. You might actually want to be an abdl mommy but you all are scam artists. I'm not paying for some one who lives across the USA in far different states to pretend to be a mommy and tell me what to do.

I'm not a full-time diaper wearer, even tho I really widh i could be! I'm very personable about my fettish. Only maybe 8 or 9 people I know personally know about my fetish, and none of them really say anything or judge me. They realized how upset I get when they put me on blast in front of people. Like I'm supposed to admit, I like wearing diapers to the general public? No! That's the worst ever because I know just about everyone around everywhere I have lived.

Trinity County Northern California is a small place where all my family live, and everyone knows everyone literally.

Klamath Falls Oregon also small town where everyone around would judge you and talk crap.

Eugen Oregon was a much bigger place where I would have loved to be diapered in public. I'd definitely go out in public there in a diaper. I'd go not as a sissy or a big baby boy, but I'd go out in a big, thick diapered butt and plastic covers in public. That would be fun to do every once in a while. Too bad I never got to be my weird self in one of the weirdest places in the USA. Eugene Oregon is one of my favorite places I have ever lived. Even tho I was homeless while I lived there and stayed at the mission. It was an experience to be a part of for sure. I recommend any ABDL to go there at least for a vacation and stay diapered the whole time. I guess that on my bucket list to go back and experience the city being a part of the weirdness and to embrace the weirdness that is Eugene Oregon

Sacramento California/ Davis California

Sacramento is one where I did go out diapered in public a few times, but it was nerv wracking, especially North Sacramento I didn't ever wear a diaper out in public, I'd get shot for being a weirdo white guy. Downtown Sacramento around the state Capitol building, I'd go diapered under my pants or shorts out in public, but there are stranger people walking around, like furries in full costumes, around in the day. That would be embarrassing. But I give them props they are much more brave than I.

Davis California is a popping college town just southwest of Sacramento. It's known for its university, UC Davis. It's a pretty town I went around in a diaper a few times. I went out to a bar diapered one night with my best friend. He had no idea I was wearing abwet soaked diaper almost the whole time. I was hoping that a kinky collage girl would notice my bulging bum or even my piss soaked front. But no one noticed. With that, tho I was actually relieved because I didn't want my best friend to know about my fetish. He might know about it. IDK if he ever found out or if he knows that this fetishism exists.

Last is Lake Havasu City Arizona

Lake Havasu is the hottest city in the USA, FACTS! I went to high school here. I moved back here for a job that I have had for two years, I loved that job. The best job I have ever had in my life. I got paid what I was worth there. I was making great money. However, that ended quite abruptly. I'm still struggling from that loss. I have lived in a few places out here and had lost them due to bad alcoholic roommates, both the places I lived . The first place I lived was with my old best friend from high school and his budy Corey, who had issues with me. He had control issues and was jealous of my relationship with my old best friend. Now my old best friend knows that I love diapers and I would order lots of ABDL stuff. Like different types of diapers, I only drempt of wearing and using. Baby cloths. Ckear Plastic diaper cover, a few passifiers, and a footie that is way too hot to wear here, but it's so comfy to wear three diapers all at once and my plastic cover. I'd wear them around the house. It's the only time where I felt completely comfortable in my diapers, completely diapered around my roommates. The roommates Corey and his gf didn't care or make fun of me. In fact, Corey's girlfriend was supportive about my fetish and thought it was kinda cute. They would bring my packages in for me. But after we had a falling out, I had to move out. I became homeless.

Here, I am now living on the streets of the hottest city in the USA, struggling to find work and some stability. I just want to live a normal life.

So, my next place I'm aiming to move to is Las Vegas Nevada. Where there are lots of opportunities for work. I have old friends that live there that I want to be around. Lots of good music, great shows to go to, concerts that I'll not miss ever again! But most of all, I have a new girlfriend. I just started dating, kinda... we have known each other since high school, so over 20 years we have known each other, we went to our first big metal show together. It was epic! Her and I talk about that concert all the time since we have reconnected. She is the first girlfriend I have had in around 6 or 7 years, and I'm stoked about having her say yes to being mine. She has already told me one of her kinks she wants to be pinned down by me aggressively and for me to have my way with her. She said she knows it's a fucked up fantasy to want to feel like she's being forced to do whatever I want to her to do. She wants to feel abused and used. It's her fantasy who am I to say no, I won't do that for her. I absolutely aim to please my partner. I don't get off unless they do. Unless diapers are involved. Then I cum a lot in my diapers. But that fun won't come for a while. I want to be sure that I have her full trust, and I hers before I attempt to let her see me in a diaper or even tell her about it. I might start much smaller of a fetish like start with pee. I'd like her to piss all over me. From there, we can move on to diapers. I'm going to make her my dream baby's girl, 100% she will like it eventually. She is already ready to do kinky things with me. I'm looking forward to building our relationship.

Also, living in Vegas will be cool as hell because I can go out diapered in public 100%. No nervousness what so ever. I'm really, really looking forward to going out at night fully diapered, maybe even wearing multiple diapers all at once out down the strip with plastic covers, maybe. Unfortunately, the adult diaper store, I was just informed the other day that it's getting closed down...😭🥺😭🥺😭😣😖🤧😭🤧🥺🥺😭 waaaahhhh, that was number one on my ABDL bucket list. Now it's going to be closed by the time I save up money to move up to Las Vegas. Sad days🥺😭🤧🥺😫😭🥺🤧

I hope my girlfriend likes them the same way as I do, or Is willing to try to like them. Atleast for me.

I'm not into men in any way!

All my photos on my simple page on here are actually me.

It seems abdl men love my photos, fine I'm glad to share and that some people like them. Man or woman.

But I like women!

So, on this last note, please any woman who might actually read my post... I'm really an ass person, and I want to talk to real people.

Thanks for reading this I hope it reaches the right people.

[im-no-jedi]

MLWTBB: Why The Hell Are You Bleeding?! (A Oneshot)

Part 10 of the “My Life With The Bad Batch” series, a (mostly) canon compliant self-insert story set in “The Bad Batch”  

rated: T warnings: blood, injury, kissing, suggestive themes relationships: Hunter/self-insert chapter word count: 1500+ words

✨MLWTBB masterlist✨

summary: Hannah returns to her apartment to find Hunter in a surprising state and helps him mend in more ways than one.

notes: I wrote this well over a year ago during a period of writer’s block, before I had even finished the first MLWTBB story! I used a prompt list by the same person who made the one I used for this other oneshot I wrote (believe it or not, this was prompt 69 hehe). this was also (technically) my first instance of mentioning Chaze, so you can blame this story for his existence 😝

A/N: this story has not been proofread by anyone other than myself. so apologies for any uncaught errors 😬

______________________________________________________________

Most people spend their days off resting and relaxing, away from any sort of work, but Hannah’s days off were usually spent in the market. It was one of the only times she could manage to get things for herself as opposed to whatever Cid requested of her. Occasionally, she could get one or more of the Bad Batch to go shopping for her, but as far as Hannah knew, they hadn’t yet returned from their current mission. Thankfully, Hannah didn’t mind shopping, so it wasn’t a big deal that she was spending yet another off day in the markets of Ord Mantell. Most of the shopkeepers were familiar with her by that point, so her anxiety didn’t bother her as much anymore either. In fact, the day was going fairly well so far.

After her shopping was finished for the day, Hannah trekked back to her apartment, once again lamenting how many stairs there were to climb. She hated stairs, but especially when her arms were full of groceries. Even more irritating was how she had to set all her stuff down just to unlock her door. To her surprise though, the door was already unlocked when she got there. She grumbled for a moment about unnecessarily setting everything down, but then realized how strange it was for her door to be unlocked at all. Hopefully it was either Cid or one of the boys who had left the door unlocked...

Cautiously, Hannah opened the door to see if anyone was inside. Almost immediately, she let out a sigh of relief as she quickly spotted a familiar man wearing a red bandana standing in her kitchen. He seemed almost surprised to see her. 

“Oh good, it’s just you,” Hannah said as she started gathering up the groceries she’d left on the floor. “I got worried for a second. You know how I am.” Arms now full of stuff, Hannah hit the button to shut the door with her elbow. “You normally lock the door behind you, that’s weird.” She huffed as she plopped all her bags onto the kitchen counter and promptly began pulling things out of them as she asked some questions. “How long have you been here? When did you guys get back? Did the mission go well? Where’s the others at?” 

As Hannah spoke, she glanced up at her partner a few times to gauge any sort of reaction from him, but he was oddly silent. In fact, he hadn’t budged since she’d come inside the apartment, which was an extremely unusual thing. He hadn’t even said hello to her yet. He was just standing there, by the sink, firmly clutching a towel in one of his hands. A poorly hidden grimace was on his face to boot.

“Uhh, Hunter? Everything ok, babe?” Hannah asked, giving him a concerned look. 

Hunter cleared his throat and responded, “I’m fine.” The tone of his voice and body language said otherwise though. Hannah knew him well enough to know when something was up. 

“You sure?” she asked again, quirking an eyebrow. 

Hunter just nodded in reply. He seemed to almost be hiding the towel now.

It was silent for a moment before Hannah put her hands on her hips and squinted at her partner suspiciously. “Can you help me put this stuff away then?” Hunter never turned down an opportunity to help Hannah if she needed it. Whatever his response was about to be would tell her everything she needed to know.

Hunter’s eyes widened briefly before he said anything. “Sure, just gimme a sec, I gotta... deal with something first.”

A surprisingly forward response. But Hannah was still suspicious. Especially after Hunter started slowly walking, almost limping towards the refresher, still clutching that towel at his side. She also now noticed his chest armor laying on the floor, almost like it had been tossed there instead of carefully placed like it normally was. A small, pained hissing noise escaped Hunter’s mouth as he walked away.

Hannah had seen enough. She practically marched over to Hunter and managed to rip the towel out of his hand with ease, causing him to yelp. Then Hannah gasped so hard, she almost choked. The towel in her hands was stained red, along with the side of Hunter’s blacks. She didn’t know whether to get mad or cry. 

“Hunter!! Why the hell are you bleeding!?”

The man in question grimaced and placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder, almost leaning against her for support. “Please don’t yell...”

A brief moment of panic before Hannah wrapped an arm around her partner and began leading him into the refresher. She propped him up against the sink, gave a quick look over his injured side, and started frantically looking for her med kit. 

“Start talking mister, what in the galaxy happened??”

Hunter sighed through his grimace. “You remember that prick that was always comin’ on to you at the parlor a while back?”

Hannah’s eyes widened. A certain Mirialan with a fancy speeder bike immediately came to mind, and she could already tell where this was going. “Oh boy...”

“I caught him poking around here earlier,” Hunter continued. “We all stopped by after comin’ back from the mission, but you weren’t home. I offered to stay and let the others know when ya got back.” He let out a pained hiss as Hannah started blotting up some more blood on his side. “Heard someone I didn’t recognize come up the stairs and found the kriffing jerk just hangin’ out, like he was waiting for ya to come back.” Another pained hiss as Hannah continued to clean his side. “Has he ever come around here before?” 

Hannah shook her head before informing Hunter that he would have to take the top of his blacks off so she could clean his wound better. She helped him unbutton the collar on the top as he continued his story. 

“Well, don’t worry, he won’t ever come around here again, I made sure of that.”

Hannah practically dropped the cleaning cloth in her hand. “Oh my gosh Hunter, did you kill him?!”

“No no no,” Hunter reassured her, snickering. “Although it’d be deserving at this point.”

Hannah couldn’t argue with that.

“No, all I did was rough him up enough that he’d think I would kill him if he ever came around here again. Which I will. Especially after he--”

Hannah suddenly gasped loudly. She had helped Hunter get the top of his suit off by this point and could see his injury better. A decent slash wound ran across his side, still slightly bleeding.

“Yeah, after he did that.”

“He did this?!” Hannah exclaimed.

“With my own knife to boot,” Hunter scoffed. “Still dunno how he did it, the bastard...”

It was at this point that Hannah realized just how hurt Hunter actually was. Not just from the wound, but the entire experience. That’s why he hadn’t said anything before and why he was trying to hide it. He was ashamed. Any anger Hannah had felt towards him completely faded, and she was now overcome with love and pity for her partner. 

“Oh honey... I’m sorry.” She gently grabbed Hunter’s face and gave him a loving kiss on the cheek. Hunter couldn’t bring himself to look at her, even as she continued to softly pepper his face with kisses. 

It was mostly silent from that point forward as Hannah helped clean and bandage Hunter’s wound. She knew there wasn’t much she could say to break Hunter out of his stupor, as much as she wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault and that it wasn’t a big deal that he’d gotten hurt like that. 

Once his wound was completely covered, Hunter finally was able to look his beloved in the face and thanked her solemnly. 

Hannah returned the thanks by smiling warmly at him and giving him a proper kiss. “Sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

“Nah, ya had every right to,” Hunter replied. “I shouldn’t’ve tried to hide from you.”

“Yeah, you weren’t doing a very good job either,” Hannah said with a laugh. 

Hunter returned the laugh and agreed, adding, “I’m kinda glad it was you and not one of the others, honestly...”

“Oh, I’m sure Omega or Echo would’ve reamed you out even harder than I did.” Hannah laughed again. “They still will, I’m sure.”

Hunter sighed. “Yeah... think I’ll wait a bit longer to go get them now.”

“Fine with me,” Hannah said, wrapping her arms around Hunter’s neck. “More time for us to catch up and... stuff.” She smirked and began giving him kisses along his jawline, up to his ear, causing him to catch his breath and physically shudder. 

“By the way,” she whispered into his ear. “As reckless as it was, I think it’s really hot that you beat a guy up for me, and I’m kinda disappointed I missed it.” She continued to kiss him, going from his ear to down his neck, with him also continuing to shiver and moan.

“Hannah... love...”

“Yes, handsome?”

“As much as I want this right now... I’m... still bleeding...”

A pause.

All that was heard after that was the sound of Hannah’s snorts and cackles.

[annikuh]

bruh my partner said he was worried about me because I’m obsessed with cl*ne h*gh and topher because “obsessions are unhealthy” and he’s acting like this is so bizarre for me & i almost laughed in his face. i was like bruh do you KNOW me???? im literally John UnhealthyObsession.

[[strange vent below, I just need to overshare here bc I have far too much to talk abt in therapy tomorrow and not enough time for all of it & this is so stupid that i literally refuse to waste time on it. this a no-judgement zone, if u judge me, ur ableist and I’m dispatching assassins to ur home]]

man’s talking abt “unhealthy obsession” meanwhile:

i got so obsessed with charles manson & squeaky fromme that they became my entire personality. i dyed my hair red for like four years bc of squeaky. i got a tattoo for squeaky. ive read a disturbing amount of books about both of them. I own handwritten letters from both of them. i can think of two separate occasions when I almost ruined a holiday and started swinging on a family member bc they were talking inaccurate shit about these two.

same goes for the several other similar figures I’m obsessed with. I have an entire WALL of memorabilia from/of them, costing truly hundreds of dollars (this is cool to me but apparently highly disturbing to everyone else). I have a copy of Jeffrey Dahmer’s fucking psych reports. I have a fucking piece of fabric used to make the shrouds the heavens gate cult members put over themselves. I’ve written 10+ page papers about some of these mfs. I turn into a feral animal when any of them are brought up, ready with too much knowledge and a desire to fact-check and rant and soapbox. I literally became so obsessed with all of these people i got a degree about it.

when i was 17 i became so obsessed with this one boy that i would sit at my desk for hours writing about him, just straight up filling pages and pages of a journal about him over and over again (this was actually TRUE mental illness i literally reread the pages later on and cried bc it was so sad and scary how out of my mind I was LOL😬). i bought a similar jacket to one he had so i could pretend it was his (this is actually my iconic army jacket; reclaimed). i literally did nothing but think and talk about him for probably at least a year and a half (& I STILL freak a little on the odd occasion that i see him, just on reflex).

I AM LITERALLY SO OBSESSED WITH MY PARTNER TOO HELLO? I talk about him so much and post so many pictures of him that he doesn’t even have to introduce himself to people bc they already know him from me. I live my entire life based around him in ways far too numerous to list and he knows it.

& there is SO much more. so it’s just a little bit funny that he’s worried that i like CH and topher too much bc i talk and think about it all the time; & bc i like to wear the gay little red hat from my topher costume (bc it’s “unhealthy to cosplay as a character all the time” meanwhile im constantly walking around with the riddler symbol on my army jacket and my clear glasses and he doesn’t see anything wrong with it; girl that’s almost full cosplay). compared to some of the aforementioned things above, im living quite the normal life.

like boy clearly you do not understand the depths of my obsession. i have been crazy for many years. your concerns about this issue here are exaggerated and misplaced. all of what im doing now is 100x healthier than anything else i have done or could be doing, especially given the strange mental state I’ve been in. he needs to thank his lucky stars, imo.

“unhealthy” sir this is highly abnormal at worst, let me cook‼️

[writefightandflightclub]

All out of smokes: Javier Peña x fem!reader

A story about coping mechanisms, and the things we hold on to when we can’t let go.

Summary: their denial can only last as long as the pack of cigarettes.

Author’s note:

I had a strong vision for this one, and I have no idea if I pulled it off. 😬

The POV follows the cigarette. (I really wanted to try something new and push myself!) 🤔

This is my first time (properly) writing Javi. 🤯

It’s a slow burn story, so not a lot “happens”. Think of it as chain smoking a whole pack with your fave DEA agent. 😁

This took a long time, so I will extra appreciate any RBs, comments, and feedback. TIA 🧡

I’m not 100% happy with this and know it could be improved, but if I don’t post it now I never will, so here goes. If it tanks, so be it. Sometimes we gotta take a risk + be vulnerable. 😅

Warnings: smoking (lots); alcohol; law / drug enforcement; blood / death mentions (off camera but harked back to); canon typical mentions of violence; canon typical mentions of sex work; unhealthy coping mechanisms; mild sexual themes / innuendos etc.; please correct me if any of my time period / location / character references are bullshit – I did my best but it’s possible I fucked up.

Word count: 7k(ish)

Rating: MATURE. (No smut.)

GIF: @barnesdjarin​ Moodboard: me Tagging: @pedrostories

We find them nestled at a corner table for two in the dingy yet characterful bar.

The bar is quite obviously positioned as a local date stop – a fact the man and woman have neglected to notice, even as their own table is cast adrift in a sea of dreamy-eyed couples. The man – whose liquid brown eyes are settled unerringly on the woman in a manner far from romantic - is not paying sufficient attention to his surroundings to clock it.

He’s usually paying very close attention – to everything; but not tonight.

The woman in question is -a little too deliberately- preoccupied with the drained glass of guaro atop her palm, idly tinkling the ice cubes and watching the pattern of their rotation intently. Her nostrils flare as the faint whiff of anise filters up to her with the motion.

The scent usually calms her; but not tonight.

Together, they are sharp angles and knitted brows. Jaded looks and tense limbs. They are concealed weapons and scuffed leather jackets and shirts with fresh sweat stains amidst a sea of carefully chosen dresses and smart shirts. They are barricades in a sea of falling walls. They are silence in a cacophony of amiable chatter.

Suffice to say, the pair’s presence is at starks odds with the ambience.

This is not a date.

This is not a couple in love, nor is this a pair about to embark on it.

No. These two don’t even look like they’re in the market to fuck. Hell, right now, they don’t even look friendly.

So, a casual observer may wonder, in fact, what they are doing here at all. Regardless though of how they got here, here they are, and both of them are too stubborn to back out now.

“You shouldn’t come in tomorrow,” the man states abruptly as he concludes his study of the woman, his body settled back into the sling of his wooden chair, his arms folded behind his head, taking up space.

There’s something there. Something, tying them together. A reason they are here. Something familiar and habitual even in the way they insist on remaining strangers.

The woman sighs and discards her emptied glass on the table, and suddenly the man is leaning in, pushing his own half-filled glass towards her with the back of his hand as if it’s a peace offering. Ironic, perhaps, given their daily lives are filled with nothing of the sort.

The woman scowls at him even as she accepts the drink, swilling the whiskey around her mouth and screwing her face up as it boils down her throat, smoky and peaty and unpleasant.

“You should take a day. I’ll cover for you.” His voice is deep and and rich - the flavour of cask-strength whiskey, and the gravelly sound amidst the sickly, lilting hubbub of her environs is rough enough to pervade her stupor, scraping her and making her raw. She reacts only with her eyes, lifting her gaze without moving her head until she fixes a half-moon stare on him, irises the shape of sliced limes beneath her lashes and every bit as bitter, pith readied on her tongue.

She fixes her study on the man, lifting her chin and titling her shoulders squarely toward him. And, as she does so, she dismisses the haunted expression from her face with an authority her ghosts appear to obey, and lands a steely gaze on her living counterpart instead.

“A day to make everything alright? Is that about to cut it, Peña?”

He appears unphased, his deep brown eyes sparkling gently, like ice cubes awash in a glass of decanted rich dark spirit.

Another sigh. Another grimace. The woman’s eyes narrow, and her denim-clad knee begins an incessant, restless bounce beneath the table, sending faint tremors into its surface; glasses clinking as they vibrate closer to one another, the upheaval drawing them together.

Trauma drawing them together.

Ah.

She huffs out a held breath in frustration and reaches -as if it is a compulsion- to fish the carton of smokes from her jacket pocket. She looks perturbed as she does so, perhaps by the tell-tale tremor in her hand. It is borne of residual adrenaline, no doubt, and yet it risks vindicating the man by revealing that, indeed; she shouldn’t. Shouldn’t come in tomorrow.

By the time the cigarette finds its way between her fingers, her eyes are haunted all over again, by things she would clearly rather forget.

A drink would usually be enough to forget; but not tonight.

***

You always did think better with a cigarette in your hand, ever since you picked-up the habit. The distraction - the familiar, somatic nature of it, offers you a certain ability to ground yourself.

And now, as soon as you pinch the smoke in between your fingertips, throwing the carton into the centre of the table, you realise.

You realise why Javi drove you here, to this bar. Why he swerved left instead of the usual right to your shared apartment block.

Javier Peña wants something.

Why else would he do you a favour?

That he does – want, that is- is not unusual, per se. The man is forever working an angle, after all. Forever chasing his wants. You therefore can’t help but wonder what purpose his offer – that he’ll cover for you - is intended to serve. Can’t help but wonder what ploy his favour is precursor to this time.

Yes, you are all too familiar with Javi’s favours. In fact, you’re keeping a thorough scoresheet, and you’re certainly not about to go into debt just because you’re… rattled.

Sometimes, it’s a little thing, sure - he wants to bum a cigarette, or wants to beg forgiveness for the carnal noises filtering through the thin walls from his apartment to yours, often keeping you awake through his most amorous nights. Sometimes, it’s a big thing - the man seeking the kind of favour that could shake a whole damn nation if shit happened to go sideways. 

You huff out a small chuckle. It is rather bizarre, you muse, that no matter the scale of the favour, the upshot is usually the same; Javi’s favours, whether big or small, typically involve you conveniently “forgetting” something you heard, and -more often than not- satisfying his nicotine craving into the bargain.

Speaking of nicotine: you bring the cigarette to your lips, that unfortunate tremor still present in your hand as you do so.

Well - there was a lot of blood.

Your eyes dart around the interior of the bar as a cold sweat shivers up your neck and a gulp simultaneously trails down it. You try and fail to swallow your heart, attempting to push it from your mouth and back into the cavity of your chest where it belongs, along with those gratifying lungfuls of smoke.

You’re spooked. You’re fucking spooked and you’re annoyed at yourself for it. This tremble is an all too visible display of weakness; one that you are loathe for Javi to be privy to. Equally, though, it is evidence you know this practised agent will not miss, as the man coolly watches you fumble the cigarette to your lips, your thumb raking over the rough metal wheel of your cheap-ass plastic lighter.

Christ. Why does he choose this moment to pay me some fucking attention?

“You could use my tub if you’d like,” he says idly -even as you’ve half-forgotten what he’s prattling about already.

His brown eyes are glinting and lit, even in the dark ambience of this bar, the air hazy - all rosy reddened light and seedy smoke swirls. The background croon of boleros over the speakers sucks you deep into their sorrow like you are drowning. “Have a soak while I’m on base?”

You scoff. A sad chuck of smoke through your teeth.

What the shit is this? Sympathy? You fumble for any other goddamn motive for Javi’s sudden interest in your personal hygiene and you come-up empty handed. Fuck. You think you’d even rather have him hit on you than this.

He looks at you from beneath his lashes, his expression unreadable. Neutral, even. “Your apartment just has that shitty little shower - right?”

“Would you cut the small talk, Peña,” you complain, with the cigarette now bobbing between your lips. “It doesn’t suit you.” Your tone is as harsh as bitters, but, you suppose, Javi is like a fine whiskey, and is therefore capable of mixing well with someone who cultivates a disagreeable edge.  That doesn’t mean he’s going to roll over though. His own flavour is plenty full-bodied. He knows how to handle you.

He grunts. “I bet you’d love to finally shut me up, wouldn’t you?”  

“Yes. Shut up,” you request. “That would be perfect.” Meanwhile, the skin under your collar suddenly spikes hotter than you might care to admit as you contemplate a few ways of how you might shut him up.

When your smoke finally catches after a few urgent scuffs of the lighter with your thumb and you suck that tiny, ashen sun to life, you take a long, deep drag, your eyes poring over Javi, your mouth forming a plush “o” as smoke bellows out of you.

It’s not lost on you that Javi fails to hold your gaze right then - the man looking briefly down at his lap and away from your steely stare. You’ve come to learn this much about him, over your months with the DEA so far - Javi is fearless in the face of danger, and he’s hardly shy; but occasionally, you catch him shrinking back from you.

Usually, when that happens, you understand why. Can read his hand before he’s played it; but not tonight. Tonight, you’re off your game. You don’t quite know what he wants. What he hopes to gain from this exchange.

So, instead of wondering, you ignore him, ripping your eyes away to gaze out of the window, and you continue to lose yourself in your habits and your vices - the only coping strategy you have left. Your eyes close in relief as you puff on your smoke, the spot of orange like a tiny sun behind clouds as the smoke eddies between you, tendrils of ghost grey winding around your bodies.

The shroud of smoke gives a grey pallor to Javi’s lightly-lined brown skin, and it makes him look as haunted as you feel. Despite the differences between you, it’s not a leap to guess that you share many of the same ghosts. And, this time, when your eyes inevitably meet his again, it is your turn to tear your gaze away – to retreat from the recognition you find dwelling there.

You consider it then – how much he knows of your pain. You wonder how many nights he’s had like this. Feeling… rattled.

Did he curl himself into the bathtub, trying to wash away horrors that permeated deeper than the water could? Did it help? Is that why he wishes the same for you? Did it fail? Is that why he pities you?

Take a day, huh, Peña?

Is a day all it takes? A day, to try to forget things you’ll never get over given a lifetime? 

As you ponder this, meanwhile, Javi sits there quietly. He sits there until -it looks like- his tongue burns in his mouth from staying silent. Eventually, his jaw saws to the side, causing his lower lip to jut forward. Still, you don’t feel much remorse for the fact he’s put out, if you’re honest. Being rude to a colleague is hardly the worst thing you’ve done today, is it? Why pretend?

So, instead, you remain stony faced and sour. As if you hadn’t just been working this case together for months. As if he hadn’t been by your side for the bust. As if he hadn’t picked you up off the floor and held you while your chest wracked with gentle sobs. Hadn’t drawn you to one side and had Carrillo’s men vacate the room so that you didn’t have to show that weakness to anyone else but him.

As though he hadn’t dragged you to a bar you don’t even want to be in rather than leaving you to your vices alone.

So, this time, when his gaze trails softly over the shiner of a bruise developing on your cheekbone, with the empathy of someone who you know has felt exactly what you’re feeling, you soften.

You soften, almost all the way, and so naturally you lash out to compensate. “Had a good look, huh? Christ, Peña. Can I help you with something?”

Javi shuffles aggravatedly and kicks back into the sling of his chair, folding his arms behind his head once more. His brown eyes look you up and down without giving anything much away as he fumbles for a cigarette – which he hopes is nestled behind his ear - and comes up lacking.

“A smoke would be fucking A.”

That’s it then? That’s all? He dragged you here to smoke and chat shit?

Plausible, almost. But it doesn’t quite check out. See, to Javi, words are tools. Mechanisms he can use to get what he needs out of people, and he uses them precisely. He has lots of mechanisms for that. His charm, his smarts, and his looks too.

You’ve seen the agent in action often enough to know this; if he’s charming you, he’s undoubtedly either angling to fuck you or fuck you over, and you might not even know which is coming. You trust him - near enough. It’s true that Javi is a man of his word, in many ways. About as moral as it gets – at least, as moral as it gets after a slew of compromises and concessions. After any number of bad things good men end up having to do.

You can count on his word, for sure though. It’s just his words, plural, that you have to watch out for - and you are on guard.

Contemplating this, you take another drawn-out drag on your smoke, just to spite him. Revelling deliberately in your silence.  

Javi is silent too, simply flexing his arms agitatedly behind his head. His red shirt is riding up over his stomach and you feign disinterest in the slow inch and reveal of his skin, of a subtle display of dark brown hair peeking above his belted jeans. However - you note reluctantly- that your heart is very much back in your chest rather than your throat, pounding away against your rib cage as he stretches out in front of you.

Javi looks you up and down again, as if mulling over what on earth to do with you. You half expect him to throw in the towel now and drive you home rightaway. Decide you’re not worth the hassle. That would be less cruel than his pity, at least. His pity, you want least of all.

Picking up on your agitation - your bouncing leg and the flare of your nostrils, the quickened succession of breaths as you puff on your cigarette, Javi dips his chin and raises his eyebrows at you until they meet his brown mop of hair, swept asymmetrically over his forehead. The ends of odd strands are still clinging to his skin, plastered down and damp with sweat. 

Looking at him like that sends your blood fleeting through your veins like a series of darts, your pulse sudden and sharp and intrusive even in your own body.

It’s no good.

You’re still far too fresh from the kill. The adrenalin still turning to vapour on your bodies.

The crash will inevitably come later; but you’re not there yet, and there’s a hell of a way to go. 

Beneath his veneer of lightness and his measured sips of whiskey and his banal conversation about anything except what happened, you can tell Javi is just as tightly wound. And you’d venture that you’re not exactly helping.

You’re surprised he’s even stuck it out this long.

Honestl? You would have expected him to be elsewhere, fucking the residual energy out of him, like usual.

Well. Maybe he’s on to something with that.

“For real. Why are we here? What do you want, hmm?” you venture, with an uptick of your chin in his direction, your expression hardening as you provoke him further, and fuck the consequences. “You want me to fucking monologue?”

In response though, Javi shuffles in his chair, leaning forward again. His leather jacket creaks as his elbow bends, thumb lifting to skim slowly along his plush bottom lip.

His brown eyes are pooling with intensity, and you feel suddenly as if his silence might be as dangerous as his words. There is something about his silence. Something about the deep darkness of his eyes that swallows you. Something that compels you to share yourself with him, as if he is a bottomless pit for all of your secrets, and all of a sudden, you wish he would have kept talking.

You don’t share. As a rule. That’s why Javi is so dangerous to you. Like a vice. Compelling you to tip over into dissecting and sharing and divulging. Fuck, it’s almost no wonder that the man walks around the city to find people throwing secrets at his feet before he has to ask. Javi is the sort of man who can make you feel like your secrets would be safe with him.

However, Javi doesn’t keep secrets. Not really. He uses them. Uses them for leverage.

You don’t want anyone to have that much leverage over you.

Not ever again.

Especially not him.

“Come on, Javier,” you bite, losing patience. “Why the pity party, hmm? We all know you open your mouth and your wallet for precisely one reason. To get what you want out of people. So, out with it. What are you angling for from me?”

It’s harsh, but not because it’s far from the truth; rather, because it is vanishingly close to it.

Still, despite your attack, Javi leans forwards, his brows knitting together as he ponders your barbed assessment, resting his forearms on the table and watching you take another sweet drag. “There are some other things I use my mouth for, cariño, quite expertly. But that’s between me and the fine ladies of my local brothel.”

You have to give it to the man, but his comment and his lack of cruelty both catch you off-guard.

He’s a funny fucker, this one. A kind one, deep down, despite all the shit you give him. You forget that sometimes, amidst everything. Kindness feels rare here. Your own laugh feels alien out of your mouth on occasion. Sometimes, Javi is the only one who can remind you of the sound.

You’d never admit it to him, but Javi feels like safety to you sometimes. A cocoon. A sanctuary. A place to hide from all of... this. True, he’s not much of a shelter, and he’s certainly not yours exclusively, but he’s all you’ve got besides booze and smokes out here. In fact, the soothing sound of the rain outside and the double whiskey and the nicotine and him are almost enough to dull the edge – to blunt your edges. When you bring the tip of your smoke to your lips for another drag, your hand has almost entirely stopped tremoring. Almost.

Javi’s eyes burn like tiny suns as he watches you fill your lungs, with envy.

“Bumming a smoke,” he finally announces, since he’s tired of waiting for you to offer, and he flips open the carton you discarded on the table, only to find it empty. He’s growing visibly twitchy without his hit, and you’re not entirely heartless yet; so, in an act of pure selflessness, you release your vice from your lips, presenting the butt to him, pressed between your forefingers like a peace offering.

Ironic, really, given that in any other circumstance, you doubt you and Javi would be at war at all. In fact, you think, in another life, it could have been so easy.

You’re not sure what he wants, but for now, you’ll happily oblige him with a small favour.

You usually keep score of what you he owes you; but not tonight.

***

Javi pauses in surprise before accepting your offering.

He searches your eyes for any kind of play, but finds none.

Your eyes are usually as fiery and alive as the tip of your cigarette and just as addictive to him, even if you don’t realise it. But right now, they are ashen. They are obscured by a veil of smoke, and by another veil of settled ash which he doubts could be so easily ushered aside.

Obligingly, and because he needs to calm his stress levels, Javi takes a grateful drag on the cigarette as its offered, his moustache and his lips brushing the pads of your fingers as his mouth settles around the tip. You watch him with interest as he inhales a few quick puffs in succession until you nod for him to take it, and he nimbly replaces your fingers on the shaft with his own, the momentary contact of your skin on his sending a sizzle through his veins.

Javi’s eyes close in unfiltered relief as he suckles more deeply on the death stick, the smoke billowing from his hawkish nose moments later as he releases his full breath.

That’s better. A little, at least.

Sure; you both know it’s bad for you, but it’s hardly any worse than the bullets which whizz within inches of you on the daily. Besides, if you’re destined for a quick, thankless death you may as well smoke your way to a slow one.

Javi fills his lungs again. Studies you. Briefly wonders whether this excursion was a mistake. You’re both covered in sweat and blood still. He should have driven right back to your shared apartment complex, and yet, he had taken a swift left instead of right.

He had brought you here, but you both had stayed. Now, here the two of you are, looking and sounding and acting like you want to leave but, curiously, neither of you making any move to go. In Javi’s mind, that speaks volumes. 

There’s something here. Something drawing you together. Whether it is something more than the trauma remains to be seen.

Even so, Javi could easily regret this whole deal. He has a nice bourbon in his apartment which would be much better company than a spiky colleague. In fact, he looks at you through the pillar of smoke – pissed off and shaken up and closed off, and his thigh muscles twitch as he considers standing, drawing this failed attempt at comfort to a close. In the next moment though, a rowdy bunch enter the bar and with the sudden bang from a flung door you flinch, your head whipping towards the noise and your eyes wet with fear and he just…. can’t. He just can’t leave you.

But, he does at least stand.

You look back at him as he does so, your eyes soft for the first time this evening as they fall on him. Your eyes tell him something. Something he recognises. That, maybe, as much as you may wish to hide your emotions behind a closed door, you maybe don’t wish to be alone when it shuts.

Usually, that’s how you might prefer to handle things - alone; but seemingly, not tonight.

You hug your arms around yourself and look up at him with a silent yet deafening plea, and, Javi is entirely sure that he’s about to suggest driving you home, but then the words out of his mouth aren’t that at all. “Can I get you another drink?”

He waits for some ire but that doesn’t come either. Instead, you nod in resignation, and he takes one more steadying drag of that cigarette before passing it back to you.

He’d usually be fucking away his own problems; but not tonight.

Tonight he will attend to yours - even if you’re not all the way happy about it.

***

The cigarette travels back to your mouth, and even as you dip your wrist to flick ash into the tray, Javi’s gaze lingers on your lips as you tip your chin up, making another “o” for your smoky exhale. This obvious attention sends another kind of tremor through you. A faint pulse you think you could recognise given a little more time and a little more whiskey.

You tick up an eyebrow, the way he’s looking at you feeling revelatory, and you search his face brazenly. Watch the tip of his tongue fleeting out over that dip in his lower lip you definitely shouldn’t know about. Shouldn’t have paid so much attention to these past months. 

With no real motive, your eyes skim over Javi’s long and lean form too, over the shape his body makes in that fucking offensive pink shirt, slinky slim hips and tapered waist leading up to broad shoulders and down to long denim-clad legs.

His shirt is still damp with sweat. If you peeled it off him it would cling to his skin, you imagine. He would feel clammy beneath your touch.

There would be worse things, for sure.

Worse things than losing yourself in him. Worse things you could do.

Hell, you’ve done worse things already. Worse things today.

“Okay,” you answer. “I’ll have one more drink.”

You bounce your leg under the table, and you lean forward in your seat, unconsciously chasing him as he nods once and retreats towards the bar. The sudden distance from him makes you feel decidedly anxious – a rolling wave in the pit of your belly- and your eyes skim the bar for threats as you rub out your smoke, the tiny sun finally eclipsed.

***

When Javier returns to the table the cigarette is extinguished, and the light in the woman’s eyes has gone out too. He sets a tinkling glass of whisky down before her, and she downs it without tasting it, replacing one fire with another, shuddering as it burns down into her middle.

Javier is a little more measured than her, however, and takes a long, slow, savouring sip before setting his glass down, condensation pooling against his unmoving fingers.

He inhales a breath. He’s about to open his fucking mouth, and evidently, the woman doesn’t like that one bit.

“Fuck, Javi. Don’t talk,” she bristles, a palm raised in the air. “Just... don’t, okay? Save it for someone who gets paid to listen. I don’t want to hear it.”

Despite everything, despite her barbs, Javier can’t help but smile now. He knows the familiar weight of her blows and, by now, he knows he can take the beating. “Are you this charming with your informants, sugar?”

The woman doesn’t hear Javier poke fun, however. Instead, she is very suddenly staring down at her shirt cuff, poking out from beneath her leather jacket, eyes transfixed and nails suddenly scratching at a stubborn speck of blood there, eyes instantly as wet and glassy as his drink.

It’s not her blood.

His voice drops into his throat, and softens to a whisper. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

Wrong move, Javier.

It is a pattern by now.

When he becomes soft, she doubles-down on being hard. Triples down on it.

“For fuck’s sake, Javi. What are we gonna talk about, huh?” the woman hisses, loud enough for the patrons at the table over the way to turn and look. “About what happened today? About what I did? How none of this is making a damned bit of difference?” Her voice is cracking like shocked ice, creaking under the weight of her own vitriol.

She is turbulent and spiralling, as though he swirls her in a glass atop his palm – excites her as he remains still. Indeed, the man swallows and licks his lips, stoic in the face of the woman’s impassioned questioning. He does not respond, but instead, he fiddles a fresh cigarette from his shirt pocket, somehow bartered, evidently, on his short trip between the table and the bar and back again. “Alright,” he soothes, his voice a low, slow rumble. “Catch me shutting up.”

And, as good as his word, the man remains quiet as he places the cigarette between his lips, the round barrel of it perfectly settled in the dip in his lower lip and his eyes never leaving her. His hands primed for… something, as if he might need to catch her somehow, even as she folds her arms and beds down more adamantly into her chair with a concessionary huff.

Javier remains wordless, and he lights his cigarette and sucks to stoke the embers with quick, frenzied puffs - followed by one long, sizzling drag.

Then, returning the favour, he flips his hand and offers the filter-end to the woman.

She scowls.

***

As you dip forward to take a hit, thanking your lucky stars that your colleague can charm the last smoke out of any poor bastard’s packet, he calls you out – that silence, as ever, short-lived. “You only open your mouth to smoke and cuss me out, or have your lips got other uses too?”

You watch his lips curl into a tentative smile.

Evidently he’s given up on whatever he was attempting before, and has reverted to his natural state. Flirtatious. Snarky. Javi usually is - flirty with you - but without any true intent behind it. Besides, you’re hardly the type to blow hot air up his ass, so it’s not as though he’d have gotten very far with you, even if he’d wanted to. However, there’s seemingly a little more behind it tonight. There’s enough intention, at least, that a heat sears into the centre of you. Enough for you to have the passing thought that Javi is the kind of guy you’d pick-up in a bar and fuck all night long, all being normal. 

But - you remind yourself – things aren’t normal. Here, things are pretty exceptional.

This place makes exceptional the fucking rule.

Maybe that shouldn’t stop you though. Maybe the fact that things are blowing up in your face – that they’re totally fucked - is the perfect reason to let off a little steam.

Javi even says himself that you work too hard -  and that’s coming from the man who never stops.

Still, it’s not as though Javi can be relied upon for objective assessments of work/life boundaries now, is it? He most definitely brings his work home with him. After all, you kinda have to when you fuck informants for your job; unlike paperwork, that’s an assignment which is much less easily completed in the office. 

I bet he’s copulated on someone’s desk though. All those late nights and a rotation of pretty, fawning typists? No doubt about it at all.  

“I don’t want to talk, Javi. I don’t want to talk and I don’t want to flirt. I just want to smoke.”

There are still ghosts surrounding you, reaching for you with cold hands.

The cigarette becomes near lifeless in your hands, burning down to a long pillar of ash, but still, Javi stays.

***

You relinquish the smoke before it burns down to a butt, and Javi takes an absent-minded puff, smoke curling around his hawkish nose and sculpted face.

He wants to make you talk, but more than that, he wants to make you forget. He could, he thinks, even if only for a moment, if he let his ill-advised instincts take over. There are ways he could take your mind off of things – all tongue and wet slide and spilling salt.

As he counts the ways he could cleanse your mind of any thought but him, his hands feel primed again, as if readying to touch you, and he is more than grateful that he has a smoke to keep his hands busy in other ways instead.

He knows not to go there with you. He knows, somehow, that you’re not a one time deal. That if he got a taste he’d want to chain smoke you- would come out of it addicted. Javi’s pretty sure he doesn’t need any more vices to add to his collection. So, he pushes those kinda thoughts aside – the kind that he’d have to pray about on Sundays, and focusses on what you really need to help you forget. On the ways that aren’t for his benefit too, because contrary to what you seem to think he doesn’t always want something from you. Sometimes he only wants to give. 

He wants to give you peace of mind. He would, if only he could.

He wants to tell you it wasn’t your fault. That shit happens. That you didn’t make any mistakes – but that would only be half true, and Javi refuses to patronise you. And so, he wants to tell you that you made a call, and that it wasn’t right - but it was the right one out of the hand you were dealt today.

The best of a shitty situation.

He wants to tell you that he understands… but Javi doesn’t exactly talk about his feelings either. He simply fucks them deeper, into dark places. Shit – he likes to feel like he has some control over something. A man would lose it here, without that.

Most of all though, Javi wants to forget too.

Wants to forget that look on your face when your hands were bathed in red.

There was so much blood.

He puts his hand on top of yours and its cold from the glass, his grasp like a ghost, and so, you whip your arm away from his, eyes sunken and sinking further like hollow graves.

No more.

Enough. Enough of this.

“Come on,” Javi says, tapping your arm with the back of his hand, prematurely stubbing out his cigarette with a pinch of his fingers, staining his tips ashy, and pocketing the half-length for later as he stands. “We’re getting out of here.”

***

“Come on where?” the woman asks, even as she’s already in motion, already moving towards his side.

“For a drive.”

“I’ve had too many whiskeys,” she says, shaking her head and massaging her temples with the pads of her forefingers.

“Yeah, I know,” Javier says, bumping his shoulder against hers amiably. “You drank most of mine.” Then, he scoops up the keys up from the table. “I’ll be good to drive. Come on, let’s go,” Javier says with finality, and, pressing his hand to the space in-between her shoulder blades he guides her on ahead of him.

This is still not a date. That much is obvious.

But the way Javier’s arm loops around her protectively, and the way his eyes do a careful sweep of the bar and its exterior to check no harm is about to befall her, hints at the fact there is something here.

These two may not be in the market to fuck, and they may not even be friendly, but there is something keeping them together. The sad thing is, whatever is bringing them together might just be the very same thing which is keeping them far apart.

All the same, Javier’s hand stays at the woman’s back until she is safely slotted into the passenger side of the car, rain from the heavens beating down onto them and quickening their journey to the parked vehicle.

Once inside, Javi leans across and fishes a crumpled, flattened packet of cigarettes from the glovebox, just one stick remaining inside and all bent out of shape. He smooths it and fiddles it in-between his lips, unlit, before he hastens the car away from its spot, trundling around the narrow streets – a clear direction in mind.

The woman, meanwhile, folds her arms and tips her face towards the window, watching the city streets slip by.

She doesn’t think to ask where they are going, and so Javier does not think to say.

Therefore, the drive passes in silence, and when Javier reaches the place he has in mind, he pulls up and parks.

He has driven them up in elevation, and now they sit above the city, looking down on it, with hazy, bedraggled views for miles. This far from the cacophony and bustle, and amidst the soothing churn of rain against the dirt ground, for once, the city even looks peaceful.

For once, the woman’s face even has a look of peace too as she looks over it.

Javier seemingly discounts the views, in favour of looking at his passenger.

As he looks longer, his throat bobs around a hard swallow, and without the need for steering any longer, his hands twitch restlessly on the wheel. And so, as if it is more than habit, he fishes the lighter from his pocket and scuffs the cigarette bobbing between his lips to life.

***

“I know you like the rain,” Jav says, winding the window down to let the curtain of smoke escape, watching it be sucked out into the cool night as rain drums soporifically all around.

When he looks back at you, he can’t help but smile, as he observes that you look pissed off all over again.

Figures.

You don’t like anyone knowing anything about you. Not even your predilection for a downpour; but, Javi’s good - a little too good - at getting secrets out of people, after all. It’s what he does. True, that the details of your idiosyncrasies, classified as they are, can’t bring governments to their knees; but sometimes they could sink him, he thinks.

He expects you to bite back at him for daring to know you, but your fire is all burned out. You are settled ash now.

And, therefore, you finally give a little.

“It makes me feel safe,” you say, folding your arms and looking straight ahead, out through the windscreen and across the expanse of flickering city lights below you, visible through the mire of rain. “Everyone rushes to get inside,” you say softly, and as much as Javi likes your bite – fuck, he is altogether captivated by your softness. You laugh sadly and shake your head. “You know. It’s my favourite time to walk around the city? Because I think, how can anything bad be happening now? Doesn’t everyone just want to get inside and stay dry? Who would kill someone while it’s raining.” It breaks Javi’s heart that your voice cracks in two then.

It breaks his heart that it’s bullshit. That when it’s raining, the violence doesn’t stop. That the blood will simply be washed away a little faster. That the bad things will happen a little more undercover.

Javi had wanted to talk. He’d wanted to make you talk, but now that he faces the very real possibility of conversation, he very suddenly has nothing to say.

Nothing seems like it will be enough.

Greeted by his silence once again you loll your head, rolling it on the seat headrest until you look Javi in the eyes, your own lighting like a struck match as your faces turn toward each other.

It is all he can do to keep breathing as you look at him like that. To nod and to take a deep, desperate drag of the cigarette, a flutter of ash drifting down on to his jeans.

Your gaze drops with it, to his thigh, where his right palm rests atop the taut blue denim. Where his hands are primed and ready. To catch you, if you need it. To touch you, if you want it.

Truthfully?

Javi always chain smokes around you. Could be the stress of the job, sure; but another part of him thinks it’s the only way he can keep his hands and his lips busy, otherwise they’d be on you. His hands would find your skin – every bit as moreish and addicting as this vice.

And finally he gives a little too. 

“I honestly don’t know,” Javi begins, his voice deep and scuffed like unpolished leather, the onset of his voice causing you to turn your stare swiftly back to the horizon. “I don’t know if we’re making a fucking difference. But trying has to count for something, right?” 

You hum, thoughtfully.

Maybe.

You shrug with one shoulder, without dropping your gaze from the city below. But you do suck in a sharp breath for courage and reach for Javi’s hand -where it is settled on his thigh - and you give it a squeeze. In return, Javi closes his fingers around you tightly, and the action squeezes his chest just as tightly.

Then, with a sigh – wordlessly - he passes the burning cigarette to you. 

This time, you don’t scowl.

*** 

You hum in gratitude and fumble the cigarette from his fingers, and as soon as Javi’s hands are once again without an occupation, he fishes in his jacket for the half-stick he’d pocketed for later back at the bar.

He lights it from your own, your faces dipping together until your heat catches against his, and you each sit, smoking your tiny suns in the car side by side, like a mirror image of the lit headlights before you, which shine outward into the dull night. Together, you listen to the rain and pretend like there is no death in the city before you. That there is no blood on your hands.

It is a lie, but sometimes the truth can become too much - especially when your profession is to relentlessly seek it.

Eventually, after a succession of drawn out moments and even longer drawn out drags, you scrub the last cigarette out with a roll of your fingers into the foil tray on the dash.

Javi swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his corded neck. 

“Oh oh. We’re all out of smokes,” you say as you stub the tiny fire out, looking at Javi like he’s suddenly see through. Your words feel loaded. As though the inevitability of the next most obvious vice to partake in is positively glaring.

You’re not wrong, perhaps.

Javi’s gaze becomes heavy, and drops to your lips as if suddenly burdened.

Your voice suddenly becomes heavier too. Laden with something else you crave. “Well? What are we still doing here, Peña? What is it that you want?” 

Why, in the midst of all the shit is he dealing with shit from you? What does he hope to gain?

Then, Javi looks at you. Really looks at you. He drags his tongue along his lower lip, and his eyes flit all over your face, drinking you in like you’re a measure of whiskey.

But then, with a smile which only reaches his eyes, he surprises you. “Not a damn thing, sweetheart.”

Perhaps he doesn’t want to take anything from you. Perhaps he thinks you’ve given enough.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to hide your disappointment. After all - it’s a shame, if he doesn’t want anything. Because, if you’re honest? Tonight, you want something from him.

Fortunately, despite your best efforts to achieve the contrary, Javi knows you a little better than you might care to admit. You’re far from strangers. And, your partner asks you levelly: “You still keeping count of favours?”

You huff out air. “Hmm. Something like that.”

“Alright,” Javi nods, mulling things over quickly in that solid tactical head of his. Thinking how best to negotiate this one. Luckily, he has a flair for that sort of thing. He thinks you may even agree to his proposition. “Well. How about we make a deal - don’t owe each other anything? How about from now on we just take care of each other, and then call it even?”

Despite everything, you can’t help but smile.

Now there’s one hell of a peace offering. You hum softly, in apparent consideration.

“Okay, Javi,” you breathe, a soft, grateful smile finally claiming your plush lips. “Now. Would you take me the fuck home?”

And so, Javi starts up the car, and steers you back through the sleepy, rain-shined streets, yellowed lights glancing off quivering pools of water and making the whole city appear as though it is carpeted with stars.

Then, with a broad, protective hand at your back, Javi walks you to your apartment door. Gets you home safe.

You stand and face him as he languishes against the frame, all long and lean and a quick goodnight and long goodbye readied on his lips.

But for once, you opt not to shut him out.

Yes - you’d usually be alone when your door closes behind you.

But not tonight.

THE END

(Hope you enjoyed this! If you liked it and want more, I’ve written a small, self-indulgent epilogue to this. So, if you liked this story please do pester me as I could maybe be convinced to post it! For now, I wanted to leave it to the reader’s imagination what happens after that door shuts. I’d love to hear your thoughts about that and what you thought of this fic in general. Any feedback and shares will be HUGELY appreciated as this is different to what I would usually write. Thanks so much for reading!)

[billsfangearring]

I've really enjoyed reading these posts today—thanks for kicking things off and making this lovely banner, @efkgirldetective! I thought it would be fun to do one myself even though I'm not a fic writer. (Yet? See Goal 1. 😬)

Goal 1: Publish my first fic.

I will almost certainly regret stating this publicly, but I've got about 1,200 words written of my first fic. It's a First War Remus/Sirius fic that probably won't be most people's cup of tea, but it's the story that started bouncing around in my head this fall that eventually drove me to give this whole fic-writing thing a shot. (Lessons learned so far: Plotting is hard! Atmosphere is easy! I use too many similes!) Since I'm in it now, feel free to ask me how I'm doing with this and hold me accountable—@consistentsquash and @the-dream-team have already been doing a good job at occasionally prodding me about my snail-like progress.

Goal 2: Publish four more of my Wolfstar Yearbook rec lists.

For those who don't know, I've been putting together rec lists of my favorite five or so Wolfstar fics completed in each year, starting with 2003 (the publication year of the oldest fic I'd ever read). I cranked out five of these in less than three months over the summer and kind of burned myself out on the pairing and those posts for a few months. I think aiming to post one every three months is a sustainable goal given other things I want/need to do next year.

Goal 3: Publish at least one non-Wolfstar rec list.

I'd really like to do some sort of Jily rec list, maybe sticking with my M.O. of reviewing older fics that aren't as well-known now. I can also think of a few other pairings/themes that I conceivably could do a list for. I already have a multi-pairing time travel rec list that was well-received on Reddit, but I haven't posted it here because it doesn't really fit my tumblr "brand," to the extent that I have one. I may post that over here too at some point, but it won't count toward this goal.

Goal 4: Publish another deep-dive single fic rec.

My excessively long review of The Last Enemy series by @chdarling was an interesting challenge this fall. I'd never written an in-depth review like that before, and the fact that TLE is a WIP series with a pretty intricate plot added another layer of difficulty. I had a lot of fun analyzing it in more depth though, so I'd like to set a goal for myself to do another one of these if something else speaks to me in 2022.

Goal 5: Consistently leave comments on works I enjoy.

It took me 15 years of silently reading fic before I mustered up the courage and effort to leave my first comment. I've tried really hard these past six months to make commenting more of a habit, and I'm happy to say I've managed to build some momentum! Part of this process for me personally has been giving myself permission to not do the absolute most with every comment—they don't have to be beautifully articulate and insightful to mean something to the author and make me feel happy about leaving one. Lowering that self-imposed barrier to entry has been really helpful for me to get better at commenting. I want to keep working on this in 2022.

I think most of the authors I follow on here have already been tagged. As a reccer/reviewer myself, I'm going to tag some fic rec blogs I've appreciated this year instead. Zero pressure to do this, of course, but I'd love to hear your 2022 goals for your reviews if you have any you'd like to share! @consistentsquash @wolfstarwarehouse @wolfstarlibrarian @wolfstarhaven Anyone else who wants to participate should consider this an open invitation too!

[badchildofthefamily]

Rengoku Kyojuro x reader(requested 💛)

• It was one of the mission kyojuro was assigned when he first met the you.

• (again this is not the mugan train guys💀 remember this-)

• you were on your way to visit your grandma and Aunt who lives far from your village and you were already late and didn't see the train number ( I don't know if there is supposed to be a train number 💀I'm so done for-)

• being the dumb sparrow you are,(sorry>×<)

you took the wrong train😂

•you realize this when you were already halfway and you thought 'this isn't the same way mom used to take me-🤔....wait-😶'

•when you asked the already annoyed TC about it and he snapped “HA kids these days are so annoying! Don't even know how to travel so fucking annoying"

• that's when you loose your calm composure but quickly regained it cause you don't wanna cause any scene more than this.

•you thought to yourself “such a fucking annoying old Siberian son of a penguin shit"-

• “Sir" you said with all the politeness left in you-“ Please care to tell me that is this the train 3?"☺️( I swear people behind you sitting could hear your fingers cracking 💀😬)

• Since you asked more politely this time he answered in annoyance “NO YOU GOT ON THE WRONG TRAIN, THIS IS TRAIN NUMBER 4"

•'Such an old bastard! Wish I could just Cha Cha real smooth throw him from a bridge BUT! no y/n you can't do this!!'

•you quickly thanked him and bowed (even if you don't want to-) and sat back thinking you'll just get off on next station.

•You were enjoying the scenery, green Fields, farmers working, kids playing etc- when you suddenly feel a presence of someone. ANDDDD...it was the flame Hashira 🔥(btw there were not many people aboard)

•Kyojuro's pov:-

He was assigned to the village where y/n's grandma lives as there were reports that some demons were lurking around.

Yes he saw the whole TC and your shit argument. He wanted to help cause the TC doesn't look in a good mood to help the young lady(you).

He also doesn't like the language and tone the TC was using and was about to interfere between but you once again asked him with a polite voice.

After you went to you seat pouting.

He Chuckled lightly and decided to approach you.

Seeing your (h/c) coloured silky hair braided swaying slightly with the wind blowing ,(e/c) coloured eyes scanning the beautiful scenery outside,light tinted cheeks that matches with your lips,and a light colored kimono you're wearing (damn-) with a small bag maded him thinking that he had never seen such a unique beautiful and simple girl, with the fact that when your eyes met his, giving him a small smile with it, he was easily attracted and take steps towards you from the middle of the way he was stupidly standing admiring you.

•(also when you saw him standing there looking at you with such a wide owl eyes😩🔥- you swear you can feel how hot and warm he might be because of his Aura)(damn y/n no smut thoughts here❌💀, or I'll send you to horny jail-🔨)

•that THAT small look exchange felt like hours but you both break from the hipnotized state and realized he was sitting in front of you.

• you looked at his strange clothes and thought that it's kind of a uniform but brushed the thought away thinking it's not your business and it's not so Polite to stare at some strange man.

• but it can't be helped 😩😩😖

•he took his katana and placed it behind him.

•you two still exchange (or steal) glances.😏

• after awhile, you were taking a little nap cause there was still some time

• kyojuro was getting hungry and took out his bento and started eating....you know what happens after he eat......uh.... We

UMAI!! he shouted, which gave you a good small attack👁️💧👄💧👁️

•Seeing your shocked pickachu face😮 made him regret a little but he of course apologize and introduce himself “ my apologies miss, my name is Rengoku Kyojuro,....I suppose I Disturbed your peaceful little nap..."he said as he scratches his nap

•he knows what he did and was embarrassed with a little blush cause he found you cute(>////<).

•hearing he deep bold and confident voice made you shiver like-😳

•Annnnddddddd.... that's how you two got to know each other.

This is so cringe(>//∆//<)

[writingwife-83]

Got one for you! (Though not sure if you are still open for them). "Sherlock, why are we at Moriarty's grave?"

Ok so I just decided to pop onto tumblr on the chrome browser and I saw I had something in my inbox and found this. Idk how long this has been here, seeing as this blog is deactivated! 😬 (EDIT- whoa now that I posted the ask it’s showing as an anon but it was not when I found it in my inbox) Gotta love tumblr, cuz according to the app my inbox is completely empty! 🙄 Anyway, here’s a little sherlolly thing set in the realm of TST, since I feel bad now…

Paying Respects

Molly walked through the bit of snow on the ground, following his much larger footprints but of course still managing to sufficiently soak the hem of her trousers. He hadn’t been very talkative that day, but had simply requested her help with cases since John and Mary were busy with some sort of obstetrician appointment. He was eager to get back to Being Sherlock Holmes, and she was more than elated to know he was staying in London instead of being exiled and likely killed, and so she naturally said she’d help with whatever he needed. No matter that it was on her only full day off that week.

Keeping busy had also proved to be for the best since her messy breakup.

Sherlock finally stopped once he reached the far corner of the cemetery, and Molly came to a stop beside him as well. He used his foot to clear some of the leaves and snow and dirt away, revealing the inscription on a small stone marker, which Molly read and triggered an instant chill to run down her spine.

“Sherlock, why are we at Moriarty’s grave?” Molly peered up at his profile. “You’re not still…are you still worried that he’s…”

“Oh no, he’s most definitely dead,” Sherlock stated without hesitation. “Blew his own brains out. No coming back from that.”

Molly nodded, looking down at the very simple marker and feeling a bit comforted. Not that he’d answered her question, and so she tried again.

“So then, why are we here?”

He paused a long while before finally opening his mouth. “Suppose I wanted to pay my respects, now that I’ve proven to myself that he’s truly gone. He was, after all, rather impressive. He nearly outsmarted me.”

Molly smirked. “Nearly, eh? High praise.”

He turned and looked directly into her eyes, no hint of sarcasm as he spoke. “He also helped me see everything that really mattered. He may not have seen it all, but to me it had never been clearer.”

Unable to look away, Molly gulped, giving him a small smile. “I suppose that does tend to happen. When there’s danger or a crisis, that’s when we find out what our true priorities are.”

“Exactly,” he agreed softly, then shifted his gaze back to the frosty ground, releasing a heavy breath. “I only wish that every evil I encounter might miss some of the things…people…that I hold dear, thereby keeping them safe.”

Molly shrugged. “But if you’re facing off against evil, anyone who truly cares about you wouldn’t choose to hide in safety. We’d rather be right there on the battlefield…with you.”

Sherlock turned back to her, a depth in his eyes as he slowly shook his head. “There may come a day you regret that sentiment, Molly Hooper.”

She looked back to the grave marker and let out a short laugh. “I doubt it. Like you said, Jim Moriarty did remind us of our priorities. I certainly know where mine are.”

Reaching down, before she could think better of it, her gloved hand found his, threading their fingers together and squeezing. To her surprise, he did the same in return, and he didn’t even let go when they began walking. In fact, he kept firm hold on her hand until they’d reached the street and it was time to get a cab and finally get to the cases on his list for that day.

Molly hadn’t any idea what the future would bring and whether there would be more evil to face, but in that moment she felt like she had everything she needed. Right in the palm of her hand.

[discotreque]

Disco 4.03: Choose to Live

I mean, wow. Where to even begin about an episode that gave me almost everything I’ve always wanted from this show but never thought I’d actually get? It’s been three days and I’m still in a mild (but pleasant!) state of shock.

Well—let’s start with a sexy starship, as usual.

And then spoilers:

I don’t think I’ve said yet that I really like the President. I had low expectations because, well, it’s Star Trek—Federation politicians and Starfleet admirals tend to be clueless obstructionists at best, outright villains at worst—so I assumed she’d have either a transparently corrupt ulterior motive, or some bullshit strawman arguments for Michael Burnham to knock down with lazy writing because she’s the protagonist, dammit! (I feel like Kirk and sometimes even Sisko got those punching-bag antagonists a lot.)

I definitely wasn’t expecting her to have valid criticisms of Michael’s established character flaws, or a space-faring, working-class-coded background, or the unconditional respect and support of Admiral Vance. Michael’s arc this season is obviously to overcome those flaws and go from good captain to great captain, and it seems like President Rillak’s contribution to that arc is going to be less “antagonistic obstacle to overcome” and more “firm but more or less compassionate source of hard truths,” not to mention an education in the political-maneuvering side of leadership.

And let’s face it: on the long and impressive list of Michael Burnham’s skills, politics does fall pretty close to the bottom.

 ***

Everything with Tilly so far this season is fascinating to me. It’s not so much an atypical story about someone working on their mental health; it’s just that those stories usually deal with something specific and discrete: Depression™, or Anxiety™, or Trauma™. I don’t see as many stories about knowing something’s wrong, something vague and hard to pin down but extremely real, and needing to figure out what’s wrong before you can even start thinking about how to fix it.

Personally, I have mixed feelings about “get out of your comfort zone” as general advice. For one thing, just because discomfort can lead to growth doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to, and plenty of growth and healing can happen in a comfortable setting—some, in fact, even requires it. For another, I spent 30+ years finding my comfort zone, motherfucker—I’m not leaving without a damn good reason.

Anyway, “here are these characters you love modelling healthy behaviour and relationships” is a really specific kind of fan service—and speaking as that specific kind of fan, I’m slightly baffled but entirely thrilled.

(Still waiting for Tilly to make a touching personal connection with somebody on an away mission who doesn’t end up immediately dead. 😬)

J’vini’s scheme didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I appreciated that it wasn’t a problem to be solved with violence or technobabble (notice they never explained exactly how Tilly sabotaged the engines, nor what Michael did to fix the cryo chambers—or even what was wrong with them in the first place, lol), but good old logic, teamwork, and talking things out.

 ***

Another pleasant surprise this week was how much they gave Book. He had something to contribute (eyewitness evidence of the Dark McGuffin Anomaly), something to pursue (at least a tiny bit of closure about his family), and relationships to build (with both Stamets and, most unexpectedly, President T’Rina)—all with Michael nowhere to be seen, except at the very beginning and very end.

Book having more to do than just be the captain’s boyfriend (which, don’t get me wrong, I also enjoy watching) gives me hope that Gray will also get interesting things to do this season separate from Adira—and again, that relationship is adorable and precious; I just want to see both those kids do more than be adorable and precious together.

I really didn’t need the fake suspense of whether Gray would download into his new body. Like, obviously he was going to wake up, give me a break. Even if this show had the guts to kill off another LGBT character (and it might not, lmao) he wouldn’t just… fizzle out like that. It would have been less insulting to the audience if it were a nearly sure thing, just painfully slow—Adira’s a teenager, after all; they’re going to have a hard time waiting, with or without the manufactured angst, and then we’d still get that lovely darts scene with Culber in the lovely new piano bar set.

Oh yeah, that. I don’t know or care why the ship suddenly has a piano bar—though if I had to guess, I’d guess it was Zora’s idea—I just want to see it in every single episode from now on, because that is a gorgeous set, daaaaamn.

 ***

Speaking of Culber, this show is so devoted to everyone getting their share of emotional support this season that even though he’s officially the ship’s counsellor now, we see him being supported and encouraged in turn by Saru.

I heard Doug Jones say in an interview that he’d love, just once, to play e.g. the protagonist’s dad in a Hallmark movie, dispensing sage holiday wisdom in a sweater vest—and, obviously, no prosthetic makeup. Saru is… definitely not that, lmao, but at least he’s getting to flex that fatherly advice.

 ***

And then that last scene with Michael and Book lying in bed was really beautiful, and reduced me to a blubbering mess. Which you’d think I’d be used to by now.

Brighter times next week? Unlikely. :(

[risingsouls]

[Apparently, it’s just OOC day (sorry to people waiting on replies 😬), but at least half(?) of those posts counting this one are about my characters.

Nappa gets me emotional. And like this isn’t the first time, but damn. So, for context, I was writing the latest chapter of the fic and, long story short, got into a conversation with Lea ( @synthetixviola​ ) about the dragonballs and how they were (and weren’t) used between the Saiyans’ arrival and after Namek. If you keep up even with just this blog, you’ll know that I took a page out of TFS’s book and had Nappa be revived via the technicality of the fact that Vegeta was working for Frieza technically when he killed Nappa, and the wish made on Earth’s dragonballs revived everyone killed by Frieza and his men (I know that at least some translations if not all actually have Popo specify on Namek but listen; I do what I want here if that wasn’t clear enough already).

Anyway, those of you who know about Lila know that she’s from East City, which is where Nappa and Vegeta landed. Somewhere along the line, Lea had mentioned that the people of East City were never wished back. Since I was doing research (and having a near crisis about plot holes and inconsistencies which is normal; this one was solved, though), I saw that, by the logic I applied to Nappa, the people of East City should have been revived for at least my story which put a damper on a conversation they were going to have. Until Lea brought this idea up:

Wasn’t Nappa working for Vegeta? Could you technically use that? For a minute, I was like, nah I don’t think that really sticks but then I considered it more and was like...You know what? That absolutely could work simply because of who Nappa is, his history, etc., and it’s fucking emotional when you think about it that way.

Basically, by going with this idea, it’s basically stating that Nappa’s loyalty to Vegeta and the Saiyan race (what was left of it from the physical Saiyans left to what he could maintain of their culture and lifestyle) was far stronger than his loyalty to Frieza. And at first, and I had this half typed out to Lea before I erased tf out of it, I was like, “I don’t know if that would work because, due to self-preservation, Nappa would likely follow Frieza’s orders over Vegeta’s.” But...I don’t think that’s true. I think if it ever came down to it, even if it meant his death, Nappa would have maintained his loyalty to Vegeta and, by proxy, the Saiyans. And, since it was Shenron making this distinction, this is basically a god CONFIRMING just how deep Nappa’s loyalty for Vegeta and his race went. Which is bad news for East City but damn. Damn, Nappa, you’re not supposed to have this kind of depth what gives???

But seriously, I’ve always loved exploring the depth Nappa could and should have had. He’s a character in a very interesting position and, as usual, we don’t really get to see how that manifests. The Saiyans may have been employed by Frieza and the Cold Empire, both the army as a whole before the planet was destroyed and the OG Squad, but Nappa’s (and, I imagine, MANY older Saiyans’) allegiance was ALWAYS to the Saiyan race and the crown until his dying breath (fucking Vegeta), and damn does that fucking hit. Man had it fucking rough.]

[mxddyhero]

JUZA FOR THE ASK GAME and also banri please!! Thx in advance

AHHH,, THANK YOU!!! 💕💞 gonna do em as two separate posts for ease!! ^^/

In reference to this post !! (feel free to send an ask!)

Character: juza hyodo

Favourite thing about them

Oh gosh,, where to start. I love his dedication to and passion for acting. Especially after Fallen Blood when he realised that he isn't at fault for how he was treated and that being himself is not a negative, after years of being shunned, and that his drive can take him so far without having to do anything different. I love how he's a big softie - he cares so much about his fellow troupemates and family!! When he bought muku an entire chocolate cake just to do something nice and let the rest of mankai share it with them ough... ♡ I love how even despite his insecurities and uncertainty, he still tries his damned hardest at every performance because that's all he's ever wanted. I love his fashion sense (yes, even the sandals fight me), how it progressed from pretty dark, unassuming colours and pretty loose and breathable because he didn't wanna draw any unnecessary attention in fear of drawing fights but allowed him room should he absolutely need to defend himself to more casual, colourful and comfortable clothes because he has mankai around him now (think the HAGT fit). I love his whole design actually,, he has pretty eyes and lovely hair and how his colour scheme is the non-binary flag (I'm biased). I love that he opens his heart so quickly to the mankai members once he realises that they accept him for who he is - that he goes to school with tenma and taichi, and he'll go for bike rides with omi and cares so much about sakyo he'll follow him around to make sure he's okay. Everything about juza hyodo is wonderful.

Least favourite thing about them

Nothing he is, in fact, perfect. (/j, king please stop leaving your dirty laundry out in your room. Banri doesn't often have good points, but I know this man uses 19 in one body wash/shampoo/conditioner on top of being one of the shortest bath takers and i think he needs to not do that)

Favourite line

brOTP

O HIGH BOYS SUPREMACY !!! Him, taichi and tenma just all play so well off of each other and i would die for them all. I also really love omi and juzas dynamic, how omi encourages juza to do his best (Fallen Blood still got me crying) and juza allows omi to grieve and heal and assure him that he's a good friend. They're very sweet besties. I'd love love love to see more Juza and Guy interactions?? Not sure whether jp has explored any of that BUT I think two dudes who have had to repress a large part of themselves for a lot of their lives finally finding acceptance and comfort would be super interesting to explore. The way they both had duties to their family in a way and had to leave to protect them is just. Ough. Let them go fishing together or smth idk.

OTP

Me juban juban juban juban-

Fr,, this ship is so good and i love it so much. The enemies to lovers, the rivals, the "It's your fault I finally found something that gets me fired up", the "muse" of it all ough..

nOTP

Omi and juza. Listen, I know its technically okay in jp with ages and stuff,, but it still kinda makes me 😬 also the fact juza also looks and acts exactly like omis best friend who passed is just a lil too much for me. I see it much more as a mentor kinda thing, Omi getting a chance to rectify the mistakes he made in his youth to try to steer juza onto the path he wants aough..

Random headcanon

AMBIDEXTROUS JUZA,, I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. I swear I had more but I forgor ♡

Unpopular opinion

The entire fandom loves juza understandably because really who wouldn't, but popular fanon juza who's just a himbo who loves sweets and banri is. Not it. Like you can have him as a shallow character and that's okay but stating with your whole chest that's all he is makes me go insane bonkers absolutely crazy.

Song I associate them with

So so many ... I'll name a few ...

Cheerios and Chocolate Milk by Theo Kandel

Starjumper by Bad Suns

Tired Eyes and Heavy Hearts by The Gospel Youth

Nights Like These by The Ghost Club

Confidence by Oscar Scheller

Favourite pic of them

This is literally my favourite image ever he's just so fucking head empty ♡ when this card came to en I saved up enough for 5 ten pulls, he didn't come home and my roommate got 2 copies in his first 10 pull 😐 but! Event reward gems came through and I actually managed to get one before it shut down ♡

TY AGAIN GOMPER FOR THE ASK ILY 💞