#its fucking triggering for people and creepy

[annatartastic]

Seriously people learn to post your fics under a read more or something. When I go to Ewan’s tag I want to see posts about him and not scroll past billion of fics that aren’t under a read more. Also people thirsting on him from his disturbing movie where he plays a literal r*pist by posting gifs of his scenes DONT DO IT???

[hey-its-me-rolly-polly]

I truly hate being so obsessive abt shit that probably doesn't even matter.

but what if it does.

[anonymouscheeses]

Obvious shit I noticed part 3 (spoilers for welcome to heaven)

Look at her! "Teehee"

Also she's nervous! Foreshadowing omg 🤯

STICKERS! Two pride stickers and a cute donut. Gives me an idea to draw Chaggie at a donut shop while everything is burning down <3 (I'll probably do it but if any artist wants to as well go ahead!)

*CHOKES ON COFFEE* I LOVE THEM. I'M SORRY I GET SO GIDDY WHEN THEY HAVE EVEN THE SMALLEST INTERACTION BUT UGHHH I NEED MORE, IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH 🙏🙏

KISSY! MWA! *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*

Vivzie give me more, moar now. MOAR

DAMN. SHE CAN THROW- or maybe it just exaggerates the perspective in this frame but still- ZAMNNN

Cherri x Sir Pentious fans RISE UP.

I wasn't ever really a fan of it myself but I always thought it was CUTE. Like 3 seconds before this part I was already begging for them to kiss 😭

More foreshadowing!

AAAAAA CREEPY BIRD THINGS!!!

Oh wait- Sera's hot and Emily's already adorable

If heaven don't look like what this is in the show, I DONT WANT IT! (THATS A JOKE PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME)

JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND VAGGIE!! Can I just say how much I love Vaggie's face expressions? Not just here but like all the time. She's just made to be so exaggerated, out of all of them I thought it would be Charlie who would have the most dramatic faces but Vaggie wins it for me. I JUST GIGGLE SO HARD WHEN SHE LOOKS LIKE THIS BAHAHAH

Okay yeah. It's very obvious now. Vaggie is definitely an ex-exterminator. They don't close in on Charlie here so it's made to subtly nudge the attention to Vaggie. HOW DID THEY IMMEDIATELY NOTICE IT WAS HER THO??

Hot-

That's it.

SHARE THAT MOTHUSSY GIRL-

YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE GREW OUT ALL OF THAT HAIR?!? YEAH ITS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE THEN BUT STILL AJJSJD.

But overall the design is pretty meh. I always loved the idea of short hair Vaggie and even have seen art of it but it's just yknow, alright. Reminds me of Cassandra from Tangled: the series. IM LISTENING TO ONE OF THE SONGS RIGHT NOW HELPPP

THIS SCENE HERE! WOOOOO! SO GLAD WE KNOW WHEN AND WHERE THEY FIRST MET!! Wish we got it extended tho. And also probably push it to next episode so it would have a better impact(atleast I think thats when they'll have the duet). BUT WHATEVER SOMETHING IS BETTER THAN NOTHING! or uh whatever

Vaggie must've been a bit terrified at first. The only sinner she ever sent mercy to was a child. Then to see someone who to her is an adult sinner who just looks really human, that must be crazy. BUT THEN IF SHE WAS TOLD THAT CHARLIE WAS ACTUALLY THE PRINCESS OF HELL? HOOOO, LOCK IN AND STEAL HER. THAT'S SOME WATTPAD SHIT. Also, I wonder how long Charlie thought of redeeming sinners. It would make sense to be after meeting Vaggie, since it could have been a wake up call to the fact not all sinners are bad people. Even though Vaggie isn't a sinner technically, Charlie didn't know that at the time. But maybe Charlie was always like this but just needed to meet someone who could start her dream with her. Long rant uhhh

Haha penis 🫵

SCRAP WHATEVER I SAID IN THE FIRST PART. THEY PROBABLY DO FUCK- OR DONT?? I DONT KNOW- ANYWAY LESBIAN SEX (BOTTOM TEXT). WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH??? SOMEONE PULL THE TRIGGER.

Lute looks like a basic asf anime gorl. Adam doesn't ever take his helmet off, or maybe he just can't. OH HE'S DOING THE GAY SIGN 💅💅 Very appropriate for what he's saying

Mentor, apprentice. I love that Husk is just trying to help Angel grow but isn't going to force him into it if he doesn't want to.

Im not a fan of huskerdust and think they'd be better friends as I can't imagine a relationship with them at all. But it's still nice and they are supportive of eachother so that's like- yknow. Basic rules. Or something like that. (HELP. I ruined it all at the last part)

I- girl- WHY IS SHE GROWLING?? GRR GRR RR (INSERT TWILIGHT SAGA HERE)

VAGGIE'S FACE. SENDS ME. WHO GAVE HER THESE OVERDRAMATIC EXPRESSIONS, I APPLAUD YOU RGAGAGA

Ooo... I didnt like this part at all... Instead of making the choice she just runs off. Then because the plot demands it, Adam says nothing. Kinda whish she atleast avoided the question, maybe in some way that would require actual thinking? For a character like Vaggie, she could choose either way and it feel like it's still her. If she chose to protect Charlie's dream, she would still be perfectly loyal to her but in the act of so would reveal a secret that could harm their relationship(which does happen at the end but that's because the plot wanted it like that). If she chose to side with Adam, she'd be hurting Charlie emotionally, sure, but it would keep a secret that could make Charlie see Vaggie less than who she is to her already(atleast what Vaggie might think would happen). Imo it should've been her deciding to protect Charlie, since it would mean she's devoted to her at all times.

ANOTHER THING! IF SHE COULDN'T MAKE THE CHOICE, THAT IS SOMETHING INTERESTING TO GO INTO. Maybe it could go deeper into how Vaggie doesn't know who she is without Charlie. So when she has a choice to make, like here, she can't do it without feeling the need to ask Charlie. BUT NOOO, YA HAD TO GO WITH THIS!! Wow. That was a long ass rant. Wtf 😭

Maybe I'm a dumbass. Maybe they'll talk about that next episode, but still, atleast touch on it a bit to not seem rushed?

Angel looking out for his kids like a mom. We always did need the motherly figure, the one closest to that being Charlie but girl needs a mother in her life too(damn, wait, I did her so dirty).

Huh, so why does it work here then? 🤨🤨 if it was said in the contract that Valentino can do whatever he wants only in the studio, then why is this the exception? 🤨🤨

Yes I'm stupid. Why do you ask? (No genuinely what's happening here)

OH ITS THE IMAGE! I really like Sera so far, hope we get more of her soon or in season 2.

Now that we know the context of this, yeah, that's fucking insane. And badass. WOMEN.

HMM. THATS STRANGE. DID YOU NOT FOR ONCE THINK THERE COULD BE A POSSIBILITY SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN AN ANGEL? Okay I probably wouldn't either but I have an excuse, I'm an idiot. Some girl with a standing out outfit, with one eye, looks unusually human, right after/during the extermination... that's pretty solid ass proof. But I'm dumb so don't take anything i say seriously :D

Imagine this. No- shit. Just-

JUST LOOK! THEY ARE SO CUTE! EVEN THOUGH CRAZY SHIT IS HAPPENING.

*SWEATS*

Vaggie is DESPERATE. PLEADING. That's obvious yeah, but don't mind me I had nothing to say for the last 3 images I just thought they were cool

I mean. Slay I guess. 😍💅

Do all the exterminators look similar or is it just Lute and Vaggie? 🤨

Even though Vaggie and Charlie may be going through this horrible thing with a hard punch in the gut, but Vaggie is always going to comfort her and I just think that's so adorable.

Also Adam looks like a chicken hah.

Everyone fears to be like Lucifer. If they don't do bad things they believe are for the greater good and make sacrifices that put them higher than those in hell, they could themselves be fallen. It's really interesting but I don't know if it's going to be fleshed out enough with the amount of episodes left. Which also worries me about everything else that still hasn't be concluded. There's gonna be loose strings I just know it. Hopefully though they rather do that then rush everything out y'know?

I want the next episode to be mostly focused on Vaggie and Charlie's relationship and the healing of what happened. Not for the entire episode of course, it would feel drawn out if it did, but atleast address the problem for the first like I would say 10 minutes? Then the rest would focus on one or two loose threads while also having Vaggie and Charlie acting upon moving on. That's just my idea but yeah-

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I have been openly living as a trans man for some years now. And I'm at a point where it doesn't take up so much mental space anymore.

Don't get me wrong: I certainly do not mean "it doesn't matter anymore" here. I am not a "just call me whatever pronouns, I do not care" person and I don't think I ever will be. Nothing wrong with feeling that way, it's just not how I feel. Being adressed with my name and my pronouns is still important for my mental well-being, and it still triggers feelings of dysphoria when people misgender me.

Even apart from misgendering: My identity is still important, and it always will be! Being trans is not some small thing that loses its importance over time. It's who I am. Being a man - and having grown up in a society that told me I wasn't - influences the way I experience everything in my life (from my self-image to my relationships with others to... well, everything).

What I do mean here is: Before coming out to others, and also before coming out to myself and accepting myself as a man, there were naturally a lot of questions running circles in my brain. Why do I feel so sad when adults tells me I'll grow into a woman? Why does it cause me so much stress when mom tells me to put on a dress? Why does it make me so euphoric to use masculine scents? When I try to picture myself kissing a boy, why do I see two boys? Ah, I just learned trans people exist, why does this fascinate me so much that I can't stop thinking about it? Am I creepy for being so fascinated by them? I'm older now, why is that sad feeling not going away? Why is it only getting worse now that I have "grown into a woman"? Why do I keep getting this horrified feeling that I took a wrong route somewhere and was never meant to arrive at "woman"? Wait... could this mean I am trans? Is it too late to realize I am trans at my age? Can I really be trans when the whole thought of even just considering surgery feels overwhelming and scary? Will I ever be ready to actually come out as trans? I really want to get married some day, could I even find love as a trans person? Can I ever be happy in a relationship if I hide who I am? Can I go on living in the closet? Okay, I am trans and want to come out, is it safe to do that? Will my family still love me? Will I ever be brave enough to come out to people outside of my immediate circle? Will people take me seriously? Will people hate me? Will I regret coming out? What if I fuck up my life?

Well, I came out and the world didn't end. All these questions, I either found answers to them or they just dissolved over time - and that frees up a lot of energy and mental space. The space that was occupied by these questions and concerns is now available to me again.

I do not wonder if I am a man anymore. I just am one. It has become something that is just self-evident to me. It goes without saying - or without conciously spending time thinking about it. Of course I am a man, of course I am Oliver. Who else would I be?

We all have a limited amount of things we can focus on, and many trans people share this experience that over time they do not need to focus so much on it anymnore. But this is not unique to the process of figuring out you are trans - in the sense that a cis gay, bi, ace etc. person could also relate to this, but also in entirely non-lgbt-specific ways. Think about a person prepping for an important exam for example. A lot of their energy and mental space will be tied up in exam related questions... which obviously will not be a permanent state. After the exam, they will naturally no longer by preoccupied by wondering how the exam will go!

I'm telling you all this because one of you asked me if I struggled with coming to terms with being a trans man - and this is my very long way of saying: Yes, I did (and it's pretty normal to do! It's a really big realization about yourself!) but struggling isn't a permanent state.

You'll find answers to some questions, some questions will just fade away. You'll figure things out.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[loliwrites]

August: Nice Girls Don't Stay For Breakfast

part one of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader  ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother!reader [child won’t play a massive role], canon compliant gun violence [starts with a snippet from s1e7], mention of canon compliant violence against women [javi remembers helena], terrible exes, mention of past relationship abuse [nothing specific or graphic], creepy guys [not javi], sassy chucho, alcohol consumption, brief SMUT, car sex, unprotected p in v sex, post-sex photos, cigarettes [are bad for you], javi’s gonna make a good girl dad, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 7.3k (woof, sorry. there was a lot of exposition to get out) ⇢ series masterlist  ⇢ a/n: switching pov’s in this one. very excited to share this series with y’all & would love to know what you think about it! as always, i’ve done my best to tag the warnings, let me know if you think i’ve missed one.

Two shots. One right after the other. That’s all it took before he managed to get his first shot off. Well, that and the sound of lead whizzing by his head. Clear and present threats to his life trying to break skin and shatter bone. In another lifetime maybe he’d have been a little faster. A little quicker to the trigger. When out on raids like this, he wasn’t sure why his finger wasn’t perpetually in a half pulled position anyway. What use was it trying to take these guys alive? They shot first and asked questions second. Why didn’t he? If they had no qualms killing a DEA agent, why’d he take precautions to save that of a sicario?

These are fanciful thoughts. Ones you can only think about after the fact. Ones only after you’ve almost had your life ended, when your adrenaline has played its role – when you’re no longer running through the streets of Medellín, praying that when you round the corner, some guy with a .38 isn’t going to clock you in the head. Bullseye.

Those are thoughts that have to come later because running after a guy nicknamed ‘Sure Shot’ doesn’t instill one with a whole lot of confidence that he’s going to get out of this alive. Hell, maybe it’s lucky Poison fired the first two shots through the window. Maybe it was fate that he’d had those couple seconds to shoot back and make a run for it before Sure Shot lifted his handgun. 

Not that anything that followed was lucky.

Murphy had gone after Poison. He’d run after Sure Shot, who, while on the run, seemed to disregard his nickname and the fact that he had a weapon in his hands. Before they’d separated too much, he could hear shots ringing off and knew Murphy wasn’t having the same experience with Poison. Rather unfortunately, the streets were crowded with people going about their daily lives, put right in the middle of the action through no fault of their own other than the misfortune of their geography. They were making it hard for him to keep pace. And should things go even more amiss, they would become collateral damage.

He rolled his ankle once while propelling himself over a wall. When he landed, he knew he fucked up. Not as spry and nimble as he used to be. And surely not as much as the man he was chasing. But they were leaving the crowds. Dodging the busy streets and trading them in for back alleys which left them virtually alone. That was when it really all went to hell. He’d gotten Sure Shot pinned in his crosshairs. One could call it a perfect sting operation as Sure Shot slid his gun over. But if there had been one thing Javier Peña had learned being in Colombia, it was that he should never count on being lucky, especially when it came to anything Pablo Escobar related. Because money spoke, but it spoke louder in the slums. 

And the child that had arrived pointing a handgun at him, demanding Sure Shot be let go? Sometimes twenty dollars looked too damn good. And to a child who’d been exposed to cartel violence for the entirety of his life; being handed a gun with the money was like a dream come true. They weren’t playing cowboys and indians. They were playing policía y sicarios.

Up until that point, the worst thing he ever had to do was point his government issued sidearm at that child. He didn’t know it at the time, but that would eventually lose its place on his growing list of ‘worst things he’d done’. He couldn’t even blame the kid who was only acting in favor of a hero, so he added it to the list of reasons to hate Escobar.

Javi blinked. He was no longer in Bogotá or Medellín, but in Laredo, Texas. His hometown. Gone were the days of chasing someone down and being shot at, for now at least. Now his days consisted of helping his dad out on the ranch or DEA desk work. That was the one perk to Laredo. It sat right up against the US, Mexico border with an international airport a stone's throw away on the Mexico side, in Nuevo Laredo. It was just the right place for a DEA field office to set up and watch drugs try to enter the US. But it was also the place Javi had run from. The first chance he got, despite conversations with his father about how he could run but he might not like what he found. Truth was, he didn’t. The world outside Laredo was… pretty terrible. But he never regretted leaving. There had been some remorse there for what had happened with Lorraine, but never regret. 

Javier closed his mouth and swallowed. It had run dry in his moment of blacking out. Honestly, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten into a car wreck. He rested his arm on the car door and drummed his fingers against the hot metal. It had spent the better half of the day baking in the sun while he sat at border watch. Now it’d bake a little longer while he helped fix a fence on his dad’s ranch. 

He glanced out his window, squinting despite the sunglasses over his eyes and had to do a quick double take. You gotta be kidding me. Going along the sidewalk, arms swinging haphazardly, a little girl walked all by herself. She couldn’t have been more than six. Pigtails bounced with each step she took. Little Mary Jane shoes buckled over white socks, a navy blue and white checkered dress. She looked entirely out of place in the horribly country town. An innocent little creature in a world full of wolves. And as Javi continued to watch her, slowing down to accommodate for a red light but also to keep in line with her, he saw the wolves start to come out. The little girl remained oblivious to all of it, as a child who doesn’t know the world is full of evil would. A stark contrast to a lot of the children in Colombia. 

Though she was able to continue on her way without notice of the world around her, Javi couldn’t. Not as she passed a group of boys on bikes – probably only a few years older than her – and how they tugged on her pigtails when she walked by. She waved her hands at them, brushing them out of her ringlets, the permanent smile not leaving her face for a second. The boys followed her for a few steps after she passed, probably thinking she’d pay them some attention if they teased her loud enough. But the moment they were behind her and no longer in her line of vision, it was like she had forgotten they’d ever been alive. Not once did she turn around to them, and finding this game now boring, the boys turned back and pedaled away. But those boys were the least of her worries. Sure, the boys were annoying but they proved to be no real threat. Kids didn’t carry guns here like they did in Medellín. At least, Javi didn’t think they did.

There was, however, a real threat. Or one Javi perceived to be a real threat. He doubted the little angel realized she was walking through a potential lion’s den. Now fully stopped at the red light, he kept his focus squarely on her. He didn’t want to think too hard about how useless he was while actually in his car, but regardless, he continued to watch. She skipped past a group of three men. Using the profiling skills the DEA had drilled into him, he figured these guys were around his age, though a little worse for wear. Each had a cigarette hanging from their lips and beer bellies hanging from beneath shirts. And every single one watched the little girl pass by. The conversation the men had been having stopped almost immediately, and gave way to what could best be described as ogling. Only once did one of the men manage to tear his eyes away to glance up and down the street. As if fully realizing this little angel was indeed alone they all started to chuckle.

The red light had thwarted the little girl’s advance. She reached up on tip toes and pressed her tiny fingers against the metal pedestrian button. Traffic in front of her and the group of men behind her, she was trapped in the middle. Javi almost thought he’d just continue on his way. That girl’s parents had made the decision to let their child walk alone. Prey to the world. And he had responsibilities to get through. His dad would tear him a new one if he was late. The fence had to be fixed by nightfall to keep coyotes from killing the chickens. He really thought he’d go on his way.

But they whistled at her.

And though not in the way Javi had been guilty of doing to a hooker or two, but in a way of trying to get her attention in lieu of candy. They whistled at her. And he prayed she’d continue to ignore the world around her. For just a second more.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Javi tore his eyes away from her long enough to look over his right shoulder, make sure he was in the clear, and then broke a few traffic laws to get to the curb. He threw his car in park, mumbled another profanity to himself, and got out of his car. Even breaking a few more laws to cross the street as the light turned green. But he had to get to her. Maybe to the public, he looked no better than the guys who had whistled at her. But he knew himself. He trusted himself a helluva lot more than he trusted those guys. So dodging traffic, he ran to her side of the street as the men advanced toward her. Despite the light now showing the little walking man, giving her the right of way, she didn’t move from the curb. Just stared at the street as Javi approached, “muñequita!”

The sound of his voice was enough to get the men to pivot on their heels and walk away from her. Javi was glad about that. He didn’t want to try to go up against three beer bellies. But the sound of his voice hadn’t been enough to get her attention. He tried again, now stepping up onto the curb beside her, “muñequita.”

Finally she looked at him. Hands clasped in front of her, head tilted back, and big, brown, soulful eyes looked up into his. The smile still on her face. Painfully unaware of the world around her. “Muñequita, where’re you going all by yourself?”

“Home,” she lifted one hand and pointed straight ahead.

Javi looked in the direction of her hand, finding that the light had already turned red again. He reached past her and hit the metal button again. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s working!” the little voice chirped. High-pitched and very clear. Obviously, strange man, mommy is working.

“What about your dad? Where’s he?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Javi pursed his lips and nodded. He must’ve been out of the picture. Surely wasn’t the first deadbeat dad in the world. Javier crouched down, wincing, and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. “It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself, muñequita. Can I drive you home?”

The little girl shook her head but the smile remained, “mommy said not to get in stranger’s cars.”

“That’s right. Your mommy’s very smart.” He looked back at the streetlight. It had turned green for them again. “Can I walk you home, then?”

She nodded enthusiastically, probably just happy to have a ‘friend’ along for the walk that she could muse too. So Javi stepped off the curb and started crossing the street. But when he looked down to ask her if she knew her address, he found that she wasn’t beside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and found her standing on the edge of the curb. Her arm outstretched. Her delicate little hand opening and closing in his direction. Help, help, help. He took a breath and lowered his head sheepishly, he should’ve known, and made the few steps back to her. With his hand held open, she slotted hers in it and jumped off the curb with flair, skipping along to keep up with him.

It melted his heart. This sweet, little creature. A Lamb of God. And though she wasn’t pointing a gun at his face, she reminded him a lot of that little Colombian boy in Medellín. That boy had been given a gun and left alone. Sent to do the work of a drug lord who was far too willing to sacrifice a child’s life as long as it wasn’t his own. And this one… what was to become of this angelita left alone? If the crimes he’d seen committed against children in Colombia hadn’t been bad enough, the crimes he witnessed against women had been. At that moment, looking down at the little girl, Javier only thought of Helena. He wondered where she was. Where she ended up. Had she gotten to America? Had it been kind to her?

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Javi knocked on the front door and took a step back. He glanced down at the little girl, her hand still firmly gripping his. She hadn’t let go of it since they crossed the street. It also wasn’t the only thing she didn’t stop doing on the rest of the walk. She hadn’t stopped talking. About the clouds, every dog they passed, her school friends and their first grade-sized drama. He’d learned she was five and a quarter and one of the youngest in her class. Her favorite color was purple. And she liked her scooter because she was afraid of her bike.

And above all, she did not seem concerned that there was no answer at her house. Javi knocked again, but the girl pulled her hand out of his and ran back down the porch step, down the small paved path, and cut across to the lawn. Javi immediately turned and went after her, taking a couple steps in her direction before he slowed down when he saw what she had set out to do. Crouched down, singing to herself, she plucked a flower from the grass and came skipping back to him.

“Look!” She thrust the tiny flower in his direction.

He glanced at it, shifting his focus between the little, yellow flower and her. “Wow,” he feigned excitement.

She tugged on his hand again, “‘s a buttercup! Sit, I want to see if you’re good!”

Javi took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, wondering if anyone had seen him arrive with her. If they were suspicious as to what some random man was doing with a little child that wasn’t his. But she tugged on his hand again so he sat on the step and she curled in closer to him, resting her free hand on his leg.

“See!” She held the flower beneath her chin, “‘f’it glows lellow, that means you’re good!” She grinned and got impossibly closer to him. “Is it lellow?”

He ducked his head and spotted a faint colorful glow on her chin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the sun was reflecting it. “Yeah, it’s yellow,”

“I’m good!” She shrieked and reached her hand towards Javi’s face, “lemme see if it’s lellow for you,”

Javier stretched his neck, raising his chin to give her access to the spot she needed for her experiment. There was a little pause, the petals brushing against the bottom of his chin as she inspected it. His eyes locked on her, watching.

“It is!”

She yanked her hand away and Javi lowered his chin, a new, wide grin spread across his face. “I’m good?” he asked, looping his arm around her back when she flung the flower away and scooted in closer to him.

The little girl nodded and opened her mouth to say something else but her attention was quickly diverted when a set of tires crackled along the gravel driveway. She hopped to her feet excitedly, but stayed planted beside Javier, her hand clutching his leg to steady herself.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Panic set in at the sight of an unknown man sitting, waiting at your house. The panic turned heart-stopping when you saw that that unknown man had his arm wrapped around your young daughter. Worse, he seemed to be smiling… beaming… at her. As if he’d found the greatest of prizes. Though his smile did vanish upon the sound of your tires crunching along the gravel driveway.

And the way you exited your car? With speed you didn’t know was in you. The story you’d heard about a mama bear instinct kicking in, in times of crisis had never exposed itself as fiercely as it did in this moment. It had only come in shades of gray before. Now it was full on technicolor. You were seeing it in living color and it felt as though you’d been removed from your body, floating above it all, getting a bird’s eye view. The way this man stood clutching onto your daughter’s hand, and the way she hesitated to obey your command to get away from him in order to give him a hug around the leg. A bitterness rose in your throat and only slightly settled when she finally bounded toward you. Still from your bird’s eye view, it was as if you watched yourself inspect her for harm done but found none. And temporarily satisfied, you suggested she carry on to the backyard. A gated safe haven and more importantly, far, far away from the strange, mustached man, staring at you both. 

She obliged, as she always did. She was an angel. And after your ex – her father – all but split at the pregnancy announcement, an angel was exactly what you needed. The expectation was never that you’d become a single parent, but you figured it was a better option than sticking around with that deadbeat. Which, as you approached the stranger on your porch, made you wonder… where was that deadbeat? It was his day to pick her up from school. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spat, now in killing distance if you so pleased to do to this guy. “So help me, I will cut off your dick and balls, put it on a pike, and march it through town! She’s five for fuck’s sake!”

Javi to his credit, not particularly known for his abundant patience, didn’t yell back. Didn’t fly off the handle in a fit of anger. Didn’t even let his expression show the slightest hint of sorrow. In fact, he had a smile on his face. And if that didn’t piss you the hell off even more. 

“Is this your thing? You follow a little girl home, scoop her up, and poof! She vanishes. You fuck right off.”

Smile still plastered on his face, clearly finding some form of enjoyment from this spectacle you were putting on. But when the rampage simmered down, awaiting an answer, he lifted his hand, palm turned upward in an invitation to embrace yours, and grinned a little wider, “Javier Peña, DEA.”

You scoffed, staring his hand down and crossing your arms over your chest, “you think it’s better that you’re a cop? One bad apple…”

He rested his hands on his hips, “technically a Fed. For drug enforcement. And as far as I know, she didn’t have any coke-laced lollipops on her.”

You opened your mouth for another smart response, anything to show that you had the upper hand here. Concerning your kin. On your property. But Javi took a step forward, effectively forcing you back off the singular porch step, and there he stood towering over you, on the high ground. Though he would’ve towered over you anyway, even had you been on equal footing.

“If I were a cop, I’d be lecturin’ you about how it’s irresponsible to let your child walk home alone. And worse that she’s only five, as you so generously pointed out. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, you need to be worryin’ about the fuckin’ group of men whistling at her. Tryna get her attention.” He stepped off the porch, now on even ground with you, and just as suspected, he towered over you. Broad shoulders straining against a button-down cotton shirt, square jaw and strong nose to boot. “You don’t have to believe this, but I’m the best thing that could’ve walked into your daughter’s life today. ‘cause in my line of work, I have seen kids go poof. And for the little girls, they’re lucky if they go poof. It’s usually a helluva lot better than the alternative,”

Despite the height difference, you stepped closer, coming face to chest. Doing your best threatening glare. “If I see you around my daughter again, I will parade your severed penis around town like it’s a fourth of July float. Do not fucking try me, Javier Peña,”

It wasn’t until you let yourself inside the house and slammed the door behind you, that the smile returned to Javi’s face and he crossed through the front yard to get back to the sidewalk. While talk about one’s severed penis was rarely a reason to smile, it was one of the least violent things that he’d been threatened with and he figured that sort of punishment was far better than the kind that he’d watched Los Pepes commit in Colombia. And, yes, the cause had been just – in the effort to take down Pablo Escobar. But he knew the ease with which Los Pepes murdered sicarios in Medellín would one day be turned against him. They would have found a justification for his murder. And that, mixed with the fact that what he was doing was definitely illegal, was the reason he was back in Laredo. And the reason he’d been able to keep the muñequita safe today. 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

He knew he wouldn’t make it to Chucho’s ranch before sundown. No chance. And his dad, also not particularly known for his patience (at least where it concerned his son), wasn’t bound to be too pleased about his son’s absence today. Hopefully he’d managed to fix the fence without him.

Javier’s suspicions proved to be correct when he pulled up his father’s long, dirt driveway and came upon the main house just as Chucho and his longtime ranch hand, Pancho, were stepping out the front door. For the second time that day, Javi found himself murmuring, “fuck,” beneath his breath.

Headlights illuminated the two older gentlemen, who still donned their boots, cowboy hats, and dusty jeans from their laborious day. Javi threw the car in park nearly before he hit the brakes, surely stripping the gears, and hopped out of the cab, ready to plead his case.

Chucho held up his hand. The wrinkles etched deep in his skin after decades of hard work in the sun. “No mames!” He shook his head and muttered to himself, “pinche naco. You owe Pancho a couple beers.” The elder Peña rounded to the driver side of his truck with Pancho letting himself into the passenger side. But before he fully entered the cab, Chucho looked back at Javi with a shout, “meet us at the Tack Room!”

The Tack Room. One of a handful of watering holes in town that boasted a kitschy barn theme. But it had the distinction of being the only one that was actually in an old barn. It had been transformed into the bar in Chucho’s young adulthood, and it had been his go-to place ever since Javier could remember. It was nothing fancy. Just a small town dive. Truly a place for locals though it wasn’t as if Laredo had much tourist appeal. Drinks were cheap. Domestic beers hovered around a buck. The food was greasy. Perfect for soaking up the alcohol already consumed and making patrons believe they could tolerate more. To Chucho it was home away from home, and to Javier, it was the place he’d gotten hooked on cigarettes. And places like it had been the reason he’d been so keen on leaving town as soon as he could. In a town as small as this, the local dives harbored three types of people:

The townsfolk who gossiped and got into everyone’s business.

The rancheros who never thought about leaving town.

And the deadbeats who never even tried.

And he’d gone to school with a lot of those in column number three. It was the bubble. People settled down here with jobs that barely paid the bills. They got married and started families. Those kids grew up, and never having the care, ambition, or opportunity to venture outside of southern Texas, stayed put. They fell in line with the work they’d watched their parents do and eventually started having babies of their own. And the cycle continued. All Javier knew was he had to get the hell out of there. So he did… despite the lump of guilt in his stomach about leaving his aging father behind. And when leaving brought him all the way to Colombia, Javi never thought he’d step foot in The Tack Room ever again.

It never failed to smell like sweat, burnt oil, and sawdust. A unique odor that all but singed his nose hairs and left him thinking his sense of smell would forever be compromised. The taste of Tecate didn’t even help. Not even the second one they were all on.

“Did you get the fence up, dad?” Javier asked, side-eyeing the girls at the next table over. If they weren’t old classmates or old girlfriends, he’d have a chance at warming up his bed tonight. They both looked like strangers to him. He could take his pick… or perhaps get both.

“No thanks to you, pendejo.”

“Alright, pop,” He took another sip from his pint glass. “I said I was sorry. I got held up, what do you want from me?”

Chucho lifted his cowboy hat off his head and smoothed out his hair before placing the hat back on. “Don’t think askin’ my son to stick to his word is too much. Instead Pancho has to help and his back’s–” Chucho interrupted himself. Then, looking past his son, and with a tone that dripped soft saccharine, “hola, chiquita!”

“Hola, Chucho!”

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

The day hadn’t been great to say the least. No day in Laredo was great but thanks to a deadbeat baby daddy and an even deader-beat judge, it was where you were holed up. Traded in San Antonio for it and cursed yourself everyday. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t any getting out of Laredo. Not for you. Not for any of the townies you’d come to recognize. Everyone just stayed put. The reason as to why hadn’t yet revealed itself. There wasn’t anything great in Laredo.

Well maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

A deadbeat baby daddy for an ex was the reason you were here but without him you wouldn’t have had actual sunshine for a daughter. How she ended up like that while being genetically half of him, you’d never know. But if having chosen a different guy meant you’d never had her, it’s a mistake you would’ve made over and over and over again. She was just about the greatest thing ever planted on God’s green earth. 

And your job wasn’t so bad. Your first job, at least. There was some sort of cruel irony that job number one was as a clerk in the same courthouse where that deadbeat judge had told you it’d be “beneficial for the girl to grow up around her father”. He obviously didn’t know, or care to learn, just how terrible that guy was. Truthfully anyone – literally anyone – would be better off not being around him. But clerking was a job nonetheless. One with a steady schedule and pay. Easy to plan life around. Not like the second job. 

Very few good arguments could be made for The Tack Room. And even less for being a bartender there. Originally you thought a small town bar only full of locals meant that everyone would treat you kindly. But you learned people were pretty much dicks anywhere you went in the world. See, a small town bar full of locals meant that the patrons started to get a little too comfortable. And since no respectable woman would be caught dead drinking at The Tack Room, it meant the place was full with large, aggressively masculine men, who’d spent the day working in the sun or bumming it on the couch while their woman brought everything to the table. And those large, aggressively masculine men, when given liquid courage, started to think they were God’s gift to humanity. Glorified machines to move their penises from one room to another. A normal shift meant being catcalled, grabbed, hugged, or pinched more times than you had fingers. The other girls blushed and cowered and took that behavior. They were raised here – worse, they’d known some of the older men who were now pinching their asses, as children. 

Not you. You could thank your deadbeat ex for that. No man was ever going to lay a hand on you like that again.

“Hola chiquita!” The soundwaves drifted in your direction, wrapping the sing-song lilt around your atmosphere, and settling warm in your chest.

Actually, there was one good thing about The Tack Room. Chucho Peña. A quiet, aging gentleman from a bygone era; he was an unforeseen light. He’d liked you since the day he met you a year or so back, here at the bar. First shift, carrying a tray of empty beer bottles, Pepe Hernandez (that asshole) grabbed you by the back pocket of your jeans, pulled you back into him until you were seated in his lap and while he thought he was hung like a horse, you realized he was working with a chode. You told him as such – something mean and cutting since he’d already been rude with you – and instead of quietly nursing his bruised ego, he cocked a fist back and tried to take a swing.

Another thing to thank your deadbeat ex for. He taught you that fists were fast but your reflexes could be faster. You dropped the tray, beer bottles crashing to the sawdust floor, and dodged his hand. He may’ve missed but you never did. Landed one punch straight to his nose. With the commotion, you could hear your boss rumbling, coming out from the kitchen to see what the matter was. And before you knew it your little unforeseen light, Chucho Peña, was beside you. He nudged you out of the way and stood over Pepe.

Your eyes widened at Chucho, but your boss arrived at the scene you’d created but Chucho was taking credit for. He wanted to holler and cuss someone out. Crack some skulls for causing a ruckus. But finding Chucho (who, you’d later found out, had given your now boss his first ranching job as a teenager), your boss backed down and kicked Pepe out.

That first night, Chucho had given you his classic Peña wink and introduced himself. He didn’t like men around acting like fools and making his beer taste bad. But he liked you. Liked your grit. Your guts. And maybe because he knew you could rip him apart, he always treated you extra nice. To make up for the fact that no one else did.

“Hola, Chucho!” You yelled back over the noise of the bar.

“Ven acá! Come meet my boy,”

You handed your purse to the bartendress behind the already crowded bar and got an apron from her in return. Wrapped it around your waist and tied it tightly around your waist on your way over to the table Chucho and Pancho were sitting at. Chucho had mentioned his son only a couple times in passing. You got the sense it was a sensitive subject and never cared to pry too much. 

But this son… your blood ran cold at the sight of him. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, clean shaven save for the mustache…

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Out of all the faces he imagined coming up to the table per his father’s offering, he never guessed it’d be you. And that fact made a little chuckle erupt from his throat when he held out his hand for an introduction you didn’t need.

“Hey, chiquita,” he smirked, all charm and nerve. Even more pleased with himself when you shoved your hand into his and told him your actual name.

But less pleased after you practically ignored him after that. Only spent a couple minutes making small talk with Chucho, trying to remain polite despite wanting to get the fuck away from his son. Maybe one day you’d fill the elder Peña in on how his son was caught with a five year old.

After you politely excused yourself from the table so you could get to work, and Javier realized he’d been practically silent the entire time, he glanced at his dad and found him gearing up for a ribbing.

“Didn’t you used to have game with the ladies?” Chucho grinned and took a sip of his beer.

“She’s not my type,” Javi grumbled.

“Ah ha. You mean she’d take a bit of work,” Chucho nodded, easing his cowboy hat back out of his eyes. “Son, it’s the women like that, that you gotta hold on to,”

Javi shook his head absently, trying to write off his dad’s comments. But he still spent the rest of the night glancing back at the bar every now and again to get a glimpse of you. He wondered how much “work” it’d take him until you bent for him just like every other woman. To his dismay, you didn’t come back to the table the rest of the night. Instead, another waitress made the rounds and filled up the beers. She didn’t seem to have any problem with him. She’d be an easy one to get. But his dad’s words rang in his ears, and despite the waitress putting in a mighty effort to get his attention, he just kept looking back at you.

Until about midnight when he needed to close out. That waitress had stopped coming around when Chucho and Pancho left and she realized she wasn’t going to get any attention from him. He stood from the table and wandered over to the bar, pulling his leather billfold out of his wallet. Foot propped up on the kick step beneath the bar, and forearms on the wood bar top, he smiled when you made eye contact with him, practically forced to help him.

“Closing out?” you asked, noncommittally. 

He nodded affirmatively, waiting until you were back in front of him with the printed tab before he asked, “who’s watchin’ your kid now?”

And you could deck him. Really could. Put some serious thought into it. But he seemed to catch on that his little joke wasn’t too funny.

“Sorry,” he bowed and slid his credit card over to you.

You ran his card, taking deep breaths so that when you turned around to face him, you wouldn’t be seeing complete red. It worked just a bit, and when you turned to hand the bill back to him, you only saw shades of dark pink. “Chucho never mentioned his son was DEA. Sounds like a lie,”

Javier smiled again. While he slid his credit card back into his wallet, he simultaneously slid out the badge that got him into the local office. Presenting it to you and adding the same blank expression on his face as his picture on the badge, he figured you believed him.

“She talked about you all day,” you shook your head and ran a towel over the bar to wipe away lingering condensation. It gave you something to do other than get lost in his eyes. “The buttercups told her you were good,”

“Not sure who taught her that, but buttercups aren’t very good judges of character,”

“I did,”

He pressed his lips together and leaned a little closer to the bar. “Well, they’re not. But they didn’t lie,”

You nodded, relenting. “Then I guess I should thank you. And apologize for that stuff about severing your penis and marching it through town,”

“Trust me, I’m sure you’re not the only woman in Laredo interested in separating me from my penis,”

“It does some damage, doesn’t it?”

A flush worked its way up to Javi’s cheeks and he laughed softly. He figured he’d let that one go without response. Your brain could imagine for itself what kind of damage he could do.

“I’m off in a half hour. If you stick around, I can show you how sorry I am,”

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

Maybe this not so great day was turning around. That’s the only explanation you could think of as to why you were currently seated on Javi’s lap in the passenger seat of your car, knees planted on either side of his waist, pressing against the coarse seat fabric. Tight t-shirt pushed up as far as it would go with your arms still in the sleeves. High enough for your breasts to be exposed; lace bra hiding the last bit of skin you had to offer. His hands had a crushing hold on your hips, rocking your body along his length. He was perpetually bottomed out, the lack of space giving no chance for reprieve. You brought one hand to the back of his neck while the other flung up and pressed against the roof of the car, trying to keep yourself down despite your body involuntarily inching away from him. Not that the confines of the space, or his grip on you, would let you get too far.

“C’mon, give it to me,” he growled with a labored breath.

A moan ripped through your chest and throat. Thighs quivered around Javi’s hips, which he undoubtedly felt because a chuckle rumbled past his lips and into the space between you both. You lowered your head, looking down into his eyes which were already boring into your soul.

“Already?”

“Shut up, Peña,”

He snapped his hips upward, where the head of his cock pressed against your cervix, searching for entry into a depth your body couldn’t accommodate. But entry wasn’t the ultimate goal, it was just to prove to you that he could. So he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you pinned to him where every movement of your body on his created friction against your clit. 

“Javi, querida. It’s Javi,”

Your head lolled forward and tucked into his neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses. Despite you being on top of him, he seemed to be everywhere. His body encompassed yours like a weighted blanket. Arms snaked around you to keep you close, as if you had any intention of furthering yourself from the pleasure he was giving you. “Javi,” his name lingered on your lips, singing two syllables that had never sounded so sweet. “I’m gonna come,” you gasped into his neck, closing your mouth and suckling gently on his skin.

He smiled and licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of your mouth on his neck. Anything to not give in to the feeling of your anatomy squeezing him within an inch of his life. He didn’t need you to tell him you were close; he could tell. “I feel it. Feel you pulling me deeper,” he lowered his head closer to your ear, his arm doing most of the work to keep your body in its steady rhythm, thrusting along him. “Go on, soak me. Give me your best,”

“Javi, Javi,” you panted. Then quickly, your head was pulled away from his neck. Both his hands cupped around your cheeks, forcing you to look down into his heads. 

You tried to lose the eye contact by squeezing your eyes shut, but Javi shook you to attention. “Let me see those eyes when you come all over me,”

Eyes snapped open, pleading. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth slack. Javi lifted his hips to meet the shifting of your body and that’s when you went rigid. Hands curling into fists and shaking. Your body jerked on top of him, an otherworldly cry erupting through you. He held on tight, leaning over and biting into your shoulder as you continued to tremble through your high. The breath hitched in your throat and it took a few seconds before a new deep lungful air entered your body. By that point, Javier was flexing and shaking beneath you.

“Where–shit–”

He knew you heard him too late. No doubt the throbbing of the pulse in your ears had blocked off the rest of the world. Unable to hear anything over the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins and the shattered cry coming out of your throat. So that by the time you did hear his question, it was too late. And Javi, just as he wasn’t known for his patience, also wasn’t known for his restraint – and yet somehow had the presence of mind and the wherewithal to physically lift you off his member just seconds before he came with a groan; thick spend coating his stomach.

You stared at it, watching the droplets create a line down toward the base of his cock, slaves to gravity. Only when he wrapped a large paw over your thigh and gave it a squeeze, did you blink and look back into his eyes.

“Good?” He asked in the same moment you leaned forward, finding himself face first in your breasts, “hello,” he smirked against your skin and bit into the fleshy mounds.

You squealed, searching blindly in the backseat with your hand before your fingertips found what they’d be looking for. And pulling back, with your free hand latching onto Javi’s hair and giving it a playful tug, you produced a Polaroid camera.

“‘S’that for?” he cocked his head to the side. 

But you didn’t answer him. Just quickly held it up to your eye, peered through the viewfinder and snapped the photo.

“Hey!” He snatched the photo away as it printed, currently just a gray square, waiting for the final image to appear. “What is this? Blackmail? You take pictures of all your conquests,”

You laughed and grabbed the photo right back, placing it in your bra and lowering your shirt. “You’re not that special, Peña,” 

Leaning back while still on his lap to create more distance for the camera, you held it back up to your eye and inspected the frame. This time his face didn’t make the cut, but his chest, down to his stomach still donning his come with his member laid back against it did. Along with your bare thighs straddling him, one of his hands still had real estate on your skin. You snapped that picture, too, and flipped it over to its blank side. With a pen in the center console courtesy of The Tack Room, you wrote your number and handed the picture to Javi.  He was out of your car before the thing had even finished developing. And in the darkness of the parking lot, he wouldn’t have been able to see the image even if it had been. A cigarette was in his mouth by the time you peeled out of the lot, and his nerves were settling with the overhead lights in his car flicking on. That was when he saw just what you’d snapped the second time. Two bodies. Anonymous. His cock rested limp against his stomach. Your legs secured around his hips. And a phone number on the back with the instruction, call me, Peña.

[too-deviant]

idk if you’d be comfortable writing this but I was wondering if you could whip up an Aphrodite!reader who’s fed up with her beauty. She stops attending school and stays the full term at camp which makes Luke confused. So she tells him about how random dudes would hit on her and be creepy at her school or something. She’d prolly join him with Kronos bc she wants to feel respected for once. Would be such an angsty but filled with femme rage although totally cool if you choose not to write this~ Just wanted to share it with someone 💛

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader

Summary: Maybe you didn't want to be beautiful anymore.

Content: pretty angsty, brief mentions of male harassment but nothing explicit or triggering, again sorry for the wait i had w block pls forgive me. also not proofread sorry yall its been a rough week.

You were only faintly aware of the noise around you.

The chatter of the city was a mere buzz in the back of your head as you marched down the street. It amazed you, really, just how unbelievably dickish mortal boys could be. This one in particular; Mike Schwartz, a five foot something jock who sat on the bench at every game. He’d been a bother in your life since you started high school. Back then, you took the endless prospects as a compliment – you truly were your mother’s daughter. It was a boost to your weak teenage confidence. 

But as the years went by, the constant asking for your hand became an irritant. Especially when they couldn’t get the hint – at fourteen, turning down guys felt amazing, but when those same guys kept coming back for more, it made your eye twitch. Couldn’t they take the first no, tuck their tail between their legs and fuck off?

Apparently not. 

After four years of putting up with it, you were done. Storming out of the cafeteria, grabbing all your things, hailing a cab and getting the hell outta dodge. Maybe you should’ve stopped to think — called your dad, taken a few deep breaths. But the harder you thought about it, after trying not to for so many years, you came to the conclusion that you would’ve ended up here anyway. 

Here being the peak of HalfBlood Hill in the middle of September. It was only slightly unusual, because when you usually arrive at the start of summer you get to watch the crowds of arrivals setting up shop at camp. Now, however, it was fairly desolate. Less people, you knew. 

It was also a split second shock when you stepped across the border and felt the drastic change in weather. From the cool breeze of the autumn air to the warm summery spring that camp was in year-round. A shift that made you pause, but you kept on down the hill anyway. 

Chiron was waiting for you on the porch of the Big House, and without so much as a word, gestured for you to follow him inside. He was fairly understanding of your situation, but made you Iris Message your dad and tell him of your decision. He, too, was more glad you were safe than angry you ran off. 

“We can talk about this when you feel like talking.” He’d said. 

So you’d done it. Finally, you’d gotten yourself away from the hey hot stuffs and the you seeing anyone baby?s. You were back at camp, you were where you were most happy. 

But you weren’t happy. 

Being a year-rounder, you’d discovered, was a lot less busy than being a summer camper. You got more days off, longer breaks between activities. You found yourself spending more time in your own company; something you never really got to do before. Most of the time you were with your siblings, or your mortal friends, or you were being hounded by some frat boy and their friends.

It took a minute to get used to the loneliness, but you did. You explored camp, found places you hadn’t seen before. A cute clearing near a stream on the east side of the forest, or a Satyr sanctuary on the far end of the beach. You read more books, you trained a little harder, you perfected six new hairstyles on your little sister Elena and Annabeth from the Athena Cabin. 

And yet, you were still pissed off. 

“Why?” 

Luke Castellan was a name everyone knew in this little corner of Long Island. One of the oldest campers, head counsellor of the rowdiest cabin, token tour guide for the new kids. Oh, and the best swordsman camp had seen in, like, three centuries. He was cute, that much you’d heard all around your cabin. But you’d never really held a solid conversation with him until you became a year-rounder. The fewer people around, the more you run into him. 

You’d been practising a few neat tricks with a dagger when he spotted you. Said he was there to train himself for once and that you wouldn’t even notice he was there. You did, though. Especially when he took his shirt off twenty minutes in. 

You shared a water break, he asked you why you’d transferred to being a year rounder, and you indulge him in the story. He was super nice about it too, which made you angry. Was Luke the only nice guy on the planet? 

“But at least you’re happier now, right?” He’d said. You weren’t, you told him that much. He gave you this knowing look you’d never seen on him before, and asked Why?

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I love it here, I do. But I shouldn’t have to uproot my entire life and bring it here just to get some semblance of peace. I shouldn’t have to give up my education, my friends, my dad, just so I don’t have to get harassed every day. It’s not even like my mom gave me anything to help combat it, either. She just made me beautiful and told me to deal with the consequences! I mean,” You let out a weak chuckle, holding up the dagger you’d been toying with, “This was a birthday present from a friend in Cabin Six. Not even my mother, who is a warrior herself, could bother sending me a weapon. They really don’t give two shits about us, do they?” 

He’d parted his lips, eyes shining with something, and looked at you through his bottom lashes, “No. They don’t.”

You and Luke grew closer after that. A lot closer. By the time summer rolled around and the rest of the campers returned, you were inseparable. Many rumours spread but you two ignored them in favour of sneaking into that clearing you’d found and talking in whispers about your hatred for the gods. Who cared if they could hear you? Let them. 

It was Luke who had come up with the idea to steal the bolt. A quick job, in and out, and maybe then they’d listen to what you’d have to say. But they didn’t — they did exactly what they always did and risked the lives of two young demigods and a satyr just because they couldn’t be bothered doing it themselves. Selfish — that’s what they were. They didn’t care about anyone —

“ — but themselves!” You glared at Thalia, who stood before you atop Mount Tamalpais with her spear in your direction. “I mean, look at your dad. He didn’t care enough to stop the monsters from killing you, oh, but it’s okay because he turned you into a damn tree!”

“This isn’t the way!” Annabeth yelled from afar. Her hair was twisted in a style you’d taught her how to do that first year as a year-rounder. It broke your heart that she couldn’t see how right you and Luke were. 

“Curse them, Thalia.” You said plainly, holding up your dagger. Half mortal metal, half celestial bronze. A gift from Luke. “Curse your father and his children. His brothers. Curse them all like they deserve to be cursed! They deserve to be toppled.”

 You tilted your head, looking at them all. Luke and your army were heading steadily up the mountain. If you could convince them now, there wouldn’t need to be a battle. 

“Where are they now, huh?” You raised both your arms, “You’re fighting for your life against a titan on a mountain and the only god who came to help out was Artemis? And that’s just because she was here already.” You scoffed out a laugh, “You should thank us, really, for taking her. Had we not, you’d be dead already.” 

Annabeth watched. You were unrecognisable in that moment — your face streaked with dirt and blood, curled into a dark sneer that any of your siblings would berate you for because of the wrinkles you’d get. You didn’t seem to care all that much, though. Not when Thalia was lunging for you and attempting to pull you out of the rage you were in. Not when her spear and shield were no match for your measly dagger and you went toppling down the mountain. 

The next time any of them saw you was in Manhattan — after believing you to be dead for a year and a half, it came as a shock when you emerged from the crowd of monsters. Your hair was hacked short, and one of your legs had been replaced with a bronze prosthetic. You fought with a ruthlessness none of them had seen in you before, whether it be because you were on the losing side or because Luke had given his body to the Lord of Time before you had the chance to tell him you loved him. You were still angry, and even if you hated Kronos, you didn’t hate him nearly as much as you hated the gods. 

When Luke died, you were kneeled beside him. Your face was dirty, your hair was knotty, and there was a dent in your bronze leg. He lifted a hand to your face, “I’m sorry to have to say this, but…you’re sorta beautiful.”

“Sorta?”

He grinned, and then he died, and you were filled with such unbridled rage that you pushed yourself down to the ground of Manhattan and tore through Kronos’ army with fire in your eyes, not stopping until Apollo got rid of your sight and forced you to calm down. You didn’t know if you’d ever be calm, since the only person who ever understood you just died in your arms, but you dropped your dagger and stomped your way back up to Olympus like a bratty child anyway. 

Zeus didn’t punish you for what you did, but he did say he’d be keeping a firm eye on you. You joined the hunters, much to your mothers disdain, and didn’t ever allow yourself to look back.

[eph3merall]

18+ content, smut, stalker!matt / don't proceed to read if stalking is a triggering concept to you.

☆ . . . matt knew it was wrong. gaining your trust was just so easy, though, he couldn't help himself. really. you were sweet and naïve, and how could he not take advantage of that when you were just the prettiest thing ever as well?

it's why he finds his tongue prodding his cheek as a big ringed hand slides one of your drawers open to reveal the pretty laid out panties. cute pastels, neutrals, some flashy, lace reds as well. he's biting down on his tongue to stop the groan suddenly clawing up his throat.

matt wasn't in a rush, no. he'd driven you to a party earlier with your girlfriends, albeit a little reluctant since there would be guys there. worse comes to worse, he can track your phone anyways.

sliding the black backpack off his shoulders and letting it drop to your carpeted floor, he unzips a smaller pocket to fumble for the pairs of panties he bought a few days back. two pink and white pairs in the exact brand and style, because he couldn't have you finding out what he was doing, right? that'd be such a shame.

sure, it's freaky and creepy and some people would call him psychotic.

swapping out the neatly lines up pairs in your drawer with the ones he bought just a few days ago, he stashes them in the pocket of his backpack—not before bringing a pair up to his face to sniff them though.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip to stifle the groan building up, even though he's alone in your room. taking a few steps towards your bed, matt sits himself onto the edge of it.

soon enough though, his cock is straining hard against his boxers and sweatpants just from the smell of your sheets and pillows. once his junk is free, a tortured groan leaves his lips once he's starting to pump at it—pre cum already leaking from his slit.

he can't help his free hand reaching for a pair of your panties, pressing them up to his face to sniff at them. his hand works in fruition for the release he's suddenly craving so badly.

god, he's crazy.

yeah, it's wrong and all but fuck matt feels so good. without a second thought in his head he's bringing your panties down to shoot his load into the crotch area of the fabric. chest heaving and tongue swiping over now dry lips, he's sighing heavily.

blue eyes come into focus some more, and he's quick to clean his hand up. washing them and making sure he didn't get any of his cum on your carpeted floors or his own clothes—then stuffing the messy scrap of fabric back into a pocket of his backpack.

slinging both straps over his shoulders, his hood finds placement back on the mess of brunette curls on his head. he's leaning over your bed to fix it—replicating the wrinkles and messy corners. fluffing up your pillows and making sure everything is in place and all perfect.

even if you wouldn't notice, he shouldn't risk it. after how far matt's come? yeah, no. blue eyes take a sweep over your room to make sure nothing is in the wrong place or order, nodding to himself and running a hand through his hair as he slips out of your room.

walking to his car he parked in your driveway, he slides his phone from his pocket once he's in the drivers seat of his car. he just couldn't help but scroll through the album of photos he had saved of you, a slow smile spreading on his face with each scroll. you were so pretty, it made him sick. and also a little hard again.

starting his car out of your driveway, matt pulls up your number.

"hey. y'ready for me to come pick you up yet or nah?"

fun fact. this wasnt gonna be the og writing, draft ended up not saving the first time and i was SO mad. bc the first draft (in my own opinion bc no one else has read it) was so good and UGH am i horribly upset it didnt save. this vers is a lil shorter i remember but hopefully its enjoyable!! after that vers not saving i wanted to give up on writing this but.

stalker!matt prompt/idea (?) lowkey from @sturnioz (pretty girl please lmk if you dont want me tagging you <33)!!! sort of? maybe??? idk. its 3 am im really tired :/

do we fw stalker!matt bcs im thinking of writing him a fic lols.

not proofread as always... i wrote this while listening to faye webster, mac demarco, n the smiths n idk how to feel about that bc this was filthy

—

©eph3merall 2024

[bobgasm]

fatal attraction | r.r [dark]

pairing: robert reynolds [sentry] x f!reader word count: 3650 warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], sex pollen, dark themes, violence/abuse, non con/dub-con, forced penetration, degradation, multiple orgasms/orgasm denial, biting, choking, knife play/blood, spanking/slapping,

summary: sex pollen, sex pollen, sex pollen. aka: in which you've been dosed

author’s note: ahh, marvel fandom, how i've missed you. you may remember me as baezen, your local carter baizen slut, or even buchonians, a terror to the fandom even back then. everyone say "we missed you, steph" 🤭

oneshot | masterlist | ao3

The scraping of metal against concrete alerts you to a new presence. Your strength has been zapped, barely able to lift your head off the small cot you’ve been lying in for days, weeks even. You lost track of how long you’ve been held captive. The minimal light you did see was from the overhead fluorescents as guards came by to check on you.

Food was scarce. They fed you minimally, knowing if you were well fed and hydrated the chance of you fighting back would increase. So they’d kept you borderline starved, dehydrated to the point your lips were cracked and your head throbbed. Any time they brought down water, it was only a small plastic cupful, never enough to satiate. Never enough to keep you going, but enough that it kept your body functioning.

Even when you asked for more, begged and pleaded with whoever had the job of giving you more water, they never followed through. Agreeing just to shut you up, the disappearing for god knows how long. 

The guard spoke lowly in a language you couldn’t translate. Whether it was because it was a language you didn’t understand, or because you were too tired to put in the effort to try harder, you weren’t sure. Judging by the harsh tone exchanged by the men stationed outside your room, it wasn’t good.

You were desperately holding out hope that the team would find you. That they’d bust through the compound wrecking all kinds of havoc. Every loud bang had you hoping that it was them, that they’d been able to track your location to its last known point.

The thick concrete walls stopped you from being able to use your powers. If you had more energy, more water, you knew you’d be able to reach out to someone. Bucky hated whenever you communicated with your powers, years of mind control was triggering whenever you spoke inside his head. He was out. Yelena also didn’t like it, the slightly older woman finding it creepy. Though you knew if it really came down to it, she’d get over it. She was a maybe. 

Alexei found it thrilling, often more intrigued by your voice being in his head. He got too distracted by the trick, going off on a tangent about how cool and different your abilities were. He was also out.

Ava was your best bet, but that was if you could penetrate the fortress you were held in. You knew it was more than concrete, something stronger that stopped your abilities from working at a distance or even up close.

You’d tried your first day in the cell. Trying to manipulate one of your guards into leading you outside, but he’d just grinned and slammed the door of your cell. Your cage. It had thrown you for a loop that he hadn’t been able to fall for your tricks. The one thing you could always count on was your ability to convince people to do something you wanted them to. Your mind was a weapon, and your captors knew exactly how to weaken you. Knew exactly how to make you doubt your abilities.

You hadn’t been part of the Thunderbolts for long, but the time you had spent with them had been interesting. This mission, the one where you’d been incapacitated and taken hostage, was up there as one of the worst missions. Most of them were decent, where you actually had enough intel and could subdue the intended culprits. Gone are the fucking days, though. 

You wished this mission had been like those – quick and easy, and a hell of a lot cleaner. 

There’s a whirring overhead, the small fan on the roof or your cell humming to life. You watch it spin, your eyes used to the darkness by now. The smell hits you first, a scent unfamiliar to you but you’re too tired to care. Too tired to do anything but continue to breathe in whatever the fuck they’re feeding into your cell. Too tired to try and hold your breath for fear of what’s to come.

At this point in time, whatever they had planned was only going to make you wish you were dead. For now, all you could do was breathe and hope for the easy way out.

It starts as a warmth to your skin. A low and slow heat that tickles your cheeks before bursting to life in your chest. The warmth coursed throughout your entirety, blossoming further down in your abdomen. 

The ache felt never ending.

The deep seated desire was lodged inside you and growing fervently. Bubbling just below the surface, desperate to be released.

You’d never felt like this before. Whatever you’d been dosed with coursed through your veins, causing you to writhe on the bed trying to placate the feeling. Urging it to subside, to give you any kind of reprieve. 

Every time you rubbed your thighs together the sensation amplified, sending you into a frenzy. It felt so good, but it wasn’t helping. It was only amplifying the sensation. You felt like your body was in overdrive and nothing was helping.

Your pulse raced, pounding in your ears. You panted, hands fisting the thin mattress on the cot as you forced your legs apart, fighting against whatever was in your system.

“Fighting only makes it worse.”

The voice was eerie, distant. You couldn’t tell if the person it belonged to was in your cell with you, or if it had come through the speakers on the wall. 

You’re gasping for breath as desire flows throughout your body. The voice is right, though. Fighting it only makes it worse, but attempting to soothe the ache just heightens everything you feel. You’re in a bind and not in a good way. 

Your eyes fly open as you feel a hand against your face, fingers stroking down your skin before they wrap around your neck. Your own hands fly to their wrist, trying to pry the fingers free. All it makes them do is squeeze tighter as their other hand forces your legs apart.

You gasp, unable to speak as your oxygen is slowly cut off. The person cups your sex over your tactical gear, roughly groping you, but the whole body ache you’re experiencing lessens slightly. Instead of a protest, your body reacts graciously, hips bucking against the person’s hand.

“I knew that was what you needed,” the voice taunts and lessens their grip on your neck. You gasp heavily, drawing breath into your lungs as the dizziness dissipates from your mind.

 It allows you a moment of clarity. The person is a man, he’s real, and he’s touching you. You want him to stop, want him to leave. You don’t know him, you don’t want him. But it feels so good. The ache is still there with a vengeance, but now you know how to soothe it. You can take care of yourself, right?

Wrong. 

The hand that was around your neck connects with your cheek, a loud slap echoing around the concreted cell.

“Fuck you,” you spit vehemently, launching yourself to your feet and taking a fighting stance. 

If you were in your right mind, you’d have seen his hand reach out. Feel it wrap around your ankle. You’re shoved up against the wall, the cot creaking as he climbs up onto it and uses his body weight to keep you pinned.

A whimper falls past your lips, his hand roughly gripping your face. You swear you can see a smirk on his face as he presses his body against yours, rolling his hips so you can feel just how aroused he is. You spit at him, disgusted, but your hands are useless. Your body is betraying your mind, so desperate for a release you refuse to give to this man. 

You force yourself to fight, to spit in his face and throw a punch. It takes all of your strength, but you do it. You fail to see the punch he throws back, connecting with your jaw. 

“Stupid whore,” he spits and you swear you can hear a smile in his voice. “It’s going to be fun breaking you in.”

You stagger along the wall, knowing this is the fight of your life, but your limbs are heavy and desire is calling to you like a traitorous bitch. You feel him grab your hair, slamming you into the concrete with a force that has you reeling. 

You feel sluggish, like you’re moving in slow motion. You know that’s not the case. You know it’s whatever is coursing through your veins, some kind of virus. If you had more of your wits about you, you’d know it wasn’t a virus. No virus makes you wildly, insatiably horny. 

Your fingers scrape against concrete desperately, trying to grab a hold of something. Anything. A scream is caught in your throat as he drags your face along the wall, skin catching against the raised, jagged pieces that overhang the otherwise smooth wall. 

He laughs as you flail, tripping over your own feet as he throws you back down onto the cot. You barely have time to recover as he smacks you once more, this time on the other cheek. He tsk’s, gripping your hands in one of his and pinning them above your head. 

“I promise you’re going to enjoy this, kitten.” 

His lips brush over your ear and you pull it back before headbutting him as hard as you can, his legs either side of yours, keeping them pinned. 

He chuckles, your head having only connected with his jaw with nowhere near enough force to injure. At this point, you’re only hurting yourself. 

You feel the cold sting of metal pierce your stomach, the sharp point likely drawing blood as it slices through your shirt. The material is tight against your skin and you scream as it continues to dig into your stomach. It doesn’t feel deep enough to disembowel you, but it’s still not pleasant. The knife pierces and drags through your skin, moving higher, the blade slicing through your bra, nipping at your neck as the last of your shirt is sliced open.

You whimper as he bites the handle of the knife, his hand roughly groping your breasts as he hums, his hand gliding through the blood slickening your skin. It makes your stomach churn, but as he tweaks your nipples, you fail to care. Arching into his touch despite desperately not wanting to.

A pleased gasp falls past your lips and he chuckles once again, gripping the knife and shuffling back so he can cut your pants off you. He pins your knees to the cot, the blade pressing into the flesh over your pubic bone. You hiss as it pierces the skin and he drags it down, cutting away your tactical pants while narrowly missing your sex. 

Still, your body is on fire, aroused by even the possibility of that happening. Of his blade knicking your most delicate flesh. You moan loudly, unabashedly. It only seems to spur him on even more.

He groans appreciatively, maneuvering you so he can pull your clothes off. Leaving your pants bunched at your ankles, but ridding you of your shirt completely. As he either forgets to pin your hands down, or skips over it completely, you take the chance to claw at him. Raking your nails down his face.

His fist connects with your face again. “Get me some handcuffs for this slut,” he growls as you cradle your face, continuing to fight him off as best as you can. It’s clear he has you at a disadvantage, your body continuing to crave a release it seems will be by his hand. Or his cock.

Metal clangs as he catches the restraints, cuffing one hand to the metal frame of the cot before forcing your other into it as well. You buck your hips, desperate to try and continue to fight. Desperate, desperate, desperate.

You’re dripping with arousal. Blood and sweat and grime coat your skin. The ache flowing through your body is crippling. You feel exhausted, beaten and bruised. You know this is only going to get worse, but you’re not in any position to do anything about it. You can’t fight anymore, so you submit.

He drags his fingers through your slickened folds, spreading your lips and robbing his fingers over your swollen clit. You whimper and buck your hips, a desperate “no, please,” falling past your lips.

“I’m only trying to help,” he says condescendingly. “You want me to help, I know you do. I can smell your arousal.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, your whimper betraying you as you feel the knife pressed against the underside of your breast.

He tuts disapprovingly. “You know you want this. Be a good girl and take it.”

He moves the knife to rest against the base of your throat, your pulse spiking and body stilling in response. He seems to like that, you think. Your stomach churns as his hand returns between your legs.

“Stop,” you plead but it’s futile.

He ignores you, slipping two fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan lowly in response, trying to fight the pleasure that relieves the painful ache. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but you know it’s pointless. You know he’s going to take what he wants, and you try to find a happy place to disappear to. You try to steel your mind to block out the assault that’s taking place, but your mind isn’t the weapon it usually is. The pleasure coursing through you renders you powerless to his ministrations. The way his fingers fuck into you, grazing over that spot inside you that has you writhing and gasping. 

“You can cum, kitten,” he goads you. Your body is convulsing in response, pleasure bursting through you and relieving the pain you'd been feeling. 

You moan heartily, feeling it rip through your chest and burst from your lips. 

The ache is still there, still heavy on your soul. A constant reminder that he did this to you, that he’s the one bringing you pleasure despite the hell you’re in.

He adds a third finger, continuing to fuck into you. Stretching you, bringing you over the edge a second time with no chance of protest before your moans were tearing their way from your throat yet again.

You panted heavily, nipples painfully hard. With each breath the tip of the knife dug into your skin a little bit more, but you felt wild. Overwhelmed. Your body was on fire and he was the extinguisher. He was also the ignition source, the reason you were even in this predicament at all. 

“There she is, my complacent little whore,” he praises, stroking your face appreciatively. “Shame what happened to your face.” He tuts disapprovingly, gripping your jaw as he turns your head from side to side. 

You grit your teeth, anger flaring that quickly subsides as he readjusts his hold on the knife. The blade pierced your neck a little more, a little deeper. It’s close to your windpipe, any deeper and you know it’s game over. You know it’s a slow, painful death as you choke on your own blood.

It’s smarter not to fight. 

It’s smarter to just take whatever he gives you next.

“Please,” you whimper. “It hurts so much.”

He’s slowly rubbing your clit, alternating between rolling his fingers over your sensitive, swollen bundle of nerves and slipping his fingers back inside your needy little cunt.

The pleasure starts to build again, the ache turning into something more. Something feral. Primal. 

You whimper as he withdraws his fingers, the blade no longer pressed against your neck. You’re about to complain, about to beg, but you hear the sound of his zipper being tugged down. You feel the bed jostle as you assume he’s removing his pants. His weight no longer pins your legs to the bed and you take the chance to pull your knees to your chest before kicking out at him, hearing him grunt as he lands heavily on his back on the cold concrete floor. The knife clinks as it falls from his hand, disappearing into the darkness.

“I’ll fuck the fight right out of you, whore,” he snarls, his hands gripping your ankles before he straddles your legs again. “You start to cum, I stop. Let the pollen drive you fucking insane. You’re just a little toy for me to play with. I tried to help you, I did. You won’t submit to me and let me take it? I’ll force my way into your needy little cunt. I’ll fuck you with my knife and gut you from the inside out. Is that what you want, hm?”

You shudder, swallowing hard as arousal pools between your legs again. The ache is back with a vengeance, but his words start to sink in.

Pollen. That’s what you’ve been dosed with. That’s what came in through the vents. No wonder you’re wild with desire. Feral with it.

He slides his hand up your torso, spearing your blood around your body. Dipping his fingers into the wounds he’s caused you, making you cry out. His laughter is wicked, fingers sliding around your neck and squeezing as you clamp your legs shut, refusing to give him access. He grunts, wedging his knee between your thighs. Spanking your pussy as he forces your legs open. 

“You’re going to take my cock,” he growls and you feel your head spinning once again. His grip on your neck tight, making it harder to draw breath. Your heart is hammering away in your chest, hips bucking as you feel him pinch your clit harshly.

“Please don’t, please don’t.”

It’s useless. You don’t even know why you tried. You’d only wasted valuable breath. 

You pull at the handcuffs, trying to twist your body away from him, but he’s everywhere. The tip of his cock spreads you open and he’s seated inside you with one harsh thrust. You’re seeing stars, whimpering and struggling and gasping for breath. Praying to whatever God might be listening that someone will come and save you, because it’s obvious you can’t save yourself.

He’s thick and heavy and stretching your needy cunt more than his fingers ever could. Reaching places inside you that have you trying to blink spots from your vision. And he takes you with force, without a care for how you’re feeling. You deserve it, after all. You’re just a warm, wet hole for him to use, just like he told you.

You feel yourself fading, feel yourself struggling to hold onto reality, but it seems as though he wants you conscious. Wants you aware of everything he’s doing to you, because his hand is gone from your throat and your breathing is jagged. It hurts with each inhale, unable to find solace. Unable to find any good with this situation.

Until your body starts to betray you again. Your hips buck as your walls clamp down around his thick cock.

“You greedy little bitch,” he tuts, slipping from your sopping cunt with a sickening squelch. You hear his hand moving against his cock, leaning back in his knees as he keeps your legs open. “You lost the right to cum when you kicked me in the chest.”

You whimper despite your best efforts. Hips bucking up into nothing, desperate for release.

“Please, please,” you beg. “I’ll be good. I can be good. Please, oh fuck. Please.”

You sound desperate. You don’t recognise yourself. You almost cry in frustration, the pleasure subsiding and turning into that god awful ache that won’t go away.

“That’s it, beg like the greedy little cockslut I know you are,” he says. Praises. “Tell me how badly you need my cock. How badly you need to cum. How good I make you feel.”

You cry out in frustration, a broken sob falling past your lips. “I need your cock so badly. Please, please let me cum on your cock. You make me feel so good. Fuck, make  it stop hurting please. Please, fuck, oh please.”

You feel him at your entrance once again, thrusting into you without warning. Your arms strain as you pull against the handcuffs, metal biting into your wrists. His thrusts are fast and rough, grunting as he seeks his own high. His fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, using you for leverage.

You gasp and moan, body floating. Mind wandering. It feels so good– he feels so good. Taking and taking and taking without a care for you and your own needs. He’s giving you what you asked for. What your body craves, but he’s not going out of his way to make you cum again. That’s all on you.

You feel it building, your toes curling in your boots. Your legs hiking higher up his back, trying to angle him where you need him. Feeling his cock press against your cervix has you seeing stars, has your body reacting before you even realise what’s happening. Your orgasm crashing into you so violently, so desperately. You don’t even feel his thrusts grow sloppy. You don’t hear him telling you he’s “gonna flood this greedy little cunt.” You don’t feel him biting down on your neck, but you feel him push your head to the side. His fingers hooked into your mouth, hand pressed against your cheek as he pins you in place. As he cums without a care in the world for you or how he forced his way into your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother to uncuff you as he slides out of you. Doesn’t care to do anything except leave without so much as a look behind him. He does, however, stop to pick up his knife. 

God forbid he leave you with a fighting chance to escape. 

tagging some people who showed an interest in sentry fics: @hangmanapologist @cumholland @sebsxphia @sorchathered @attapullman

[angelic-ambedo]

The Weirdest Fucking Movies I've Ever seen Pt. 1

Okay so I sort of champion myself as a lover of weird movies. And it's funny because regardless of how many I've seen, every time I watch a weird movie I genuinely feel as if it is the weirdest movie I've ever seen in my life.

So, I decided to make a list which compiles all of said weird movies and then a description of why I find each so uniquely weird. If you find any of these descriptions or titles intriguing, I recommend you seek these movies out, because a weird movie = a good life ya know so yeah

If you have more weird movies please please recommend them im hungry for new crazy cinema bebesssss

Eraserhead (1977) - genuinely makes no sense.

Coherence (2013) - trippy scientifically interesting thriller

Some Velvet Morning (2013) - abusive cat n mouse relationship

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) - emotional violence

Greener Grass (2019) - let's shame suburbia!

Trash Humpers (2009) - people fucking the trash...?

Julien Donkey-Boy (1999) - mental illness be so sad and trippy

Gummo (1997) - literal photo album of a dysfunctional town

Slaughtered Vomit Dolls (2006) - bulimia PSA in disguise

Black Bear (2020) - art seeps into the "real" world

Begotten (1990) - god kills himself

Trouble Every Day (2001) - eating people presented as...a turn on?

Baise-Moi (2000) - punk feminist murderous women are sick and society sux

Palindromes (2004) - one character is played by a ton of different actors of different ages, races, and sexes

964 Pinocchio (1991) - so much vomit, even more cyberpunk lobotomy sex machine madness

Meet the Feebles (1989) - the muppets give each other STDs and commit mass murder

In the Realm of the Senses (1976) - a torrid, pornographic affair used to escape the horrors of a war-torn world

Enter the Void (2009) - going to the past, present, and future, POV shots that include blinking, going inside the body, taboo themes with a psychedelic style

Love (2015) - horny pseudo-porno about a misogynistic asshole who somehow pulls hot, sexually adventurous women

Climax (2018) - LSD fueled nightmare

Pink Flamingos (1972) - a competition to be the "filthiest person alive" (spoiler alert: the cool drag queen wins)

Vivarium (2019) - Suburbia is still creepy, guys

Be My Cat: A Film for Anne (2015) - can we please stop having erotomania like celebrities aren't into u babe :(

No No Nooky TV (1987) - Computers being cool and saying "boobs" and "clit"

The Piano Teacher (2001) - unsafe nonconsensual bdsm and sexual repression is...no. please no.

The Night Porter (1974) - stockholm syndrome and wild bdsm stuff with postwar themes

Belle de Jour (1967) - more bdsm themes

Titane (2021) - woman fucks a car and gets pregnant

Daisies (1966) - two girls cut up pickles and destroy the patriarchy

Creep 1 and 2 (2014, 2017) - murder has never been this funny

Garbanzo Gas (2007) - a human cow gets an all-expenses paid trip to a motel before it hits the slaughterhouse

Melancholie der Engel (2009) - ew.

In Our Garden (2002) - old men dicks + weirdest dialogue I've ever heard in my life

The Rehearsal (TV series) (2022) - this is the ultimate weirdest thing ever and I don't know how else to categorize it.

Trigger Warnings (all of these movies are weird/fucked up but some of them contain actual fucked up stuff that like. happened in real life. so below are the triggers for that kind of stuff. All of these films are genuine films, not the gore stuff the internet produces, but some of them because of the country/time period/transgressiveness include content that is inappropriate and/or ethically unacceptable, so I've included those movies below)

Baise-Moi - unsimulated sex scenes which includes SA scenes that actors consented to but characters did not. this proves a feminist point but is still incredibly upsetting and stayed with me for a while as there are close ups and its awful.

In the Realm of the Senses - Please look into this one more before you watch it, I'm not going to describe things in detail because it makes me so uncomfortable but there are some scenes that involve young actors that should not ethically have been in the situations they were put in. The movie is exceptionally well made and from what I know globally respected so I don't know why they had to ruin it for me but whatever.

Pink Flamingos - One infamous scene involves an actual chicken death. It was the early 70s (long time ago and no PETA) and they apparently ate the chicken afterward, so I felt less immoral about this one but still gross.

Melancholie der Engel - okay please genuinely never watch this movie unless you're super into traumatizing yourself and are very desensitized I guess. There's a ton of actual animal abuse in very very graphic/unnecessarily disturbing shock type situations. There's other bad unsimulated stuff but this is the worst of it from what I know.

Love and Meet the Feebles contain scenes that are transphobic and/or racist, which is gross. Slaughtered Vomit Dolls was made by a very bad person. A bunch of the movies also have unsimulated sex stuff, I don't know if that makes anyone uncomfortable but if it does I'm just putting it out there.

[localratman]

skybound Thoughts

sooo uh, im thinking about doing a rewrite of ninjago skybound.

im currently rewatching it because of this, and in case i never get around to actually writing anything, im gonna word-vomit onto this hellsite (affectionate) cuz im having Thoughts.

quick tangent though, skybound seems very similar to danny phantom (at least in how the fandom treats it) in the sense that, when you actually watch it, it's pretty tame and honestly kinda shit. but then you dig deeper. and you see the Implications and Possibilities, and suddenly it has you by the throat with all the ways this could have gone if it wasn't a kids show.

like, in skybound you get genuine torture and creepy implications on nadakhan's part (seriously, get away from jay and nya you fucking creep), and while it's never really explored since, y'know, kids show, it makes nadakhan one of the best and most terrifying villains i personally have watched in ninjago.

anyway, here are a couple of things i've been toying with in terms of a possible rewrite:

one thing im thinking about taking from various other fics i've seen (i think its mainly shown in bending but never breaking, which is an absolutely amazing fic and you should go read it but MIND THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS PLEASE) is jay learning to use the electricity in his body, though obviously not painlessly

bonus points for his elemental power getting royally fucked up once/if the vengestone is removed, but in the sense of suddenly he is completely overwhelmed and his power is so much stronger and its a danger to both himself and others

queerplatonic jaya: i think in this season especially, nya felt very aroace coded (i might just be projecting as i myself am aroace, but that's the vibe i got) and so for a skybound rewrite nya and jay would have a serious conversation about how nya doesn't feel that way for anyone, even if she *does* really like jay

just general angst and torture

id rewrite jays obsession with nya, specifically his first wish (if i dont just jump right into him being on misfortunes keep)

i think id like to do something more with delara than just her being some dead girlfriend. i.e.: i'd make her fucking unhinged and the kind of person that would fall in love with and support nadakhan.

i really liked @cotidianoseeder's idea for canary!jay, so possibly something in that direction

i also really like it when people keep serpentine aspects in jays character, so some of that as well

fuck it, make him inhuman, y'know?

i'd age everyone up i think (i dunno how old they are in skybound, but a 17 minimum would be in my rewrite)

OH! i'd put bruiseshipping as a romantic relationship cuz i love them

nya would make the final wish, since a big part of her character would be forging her own story and taking control of her own life

zanes falcon would survive cuz i love that fucking bird

echo would be taken off the island post-rewind

what do y'all think??? i keep having more ideas, i might post them

[fazedlight]

Dreams (Nia character study/brainia)

It started with a dinosaur. 

A… purple dinosaur.

Of all the things for a teenager to have recurring dreams about, Nia couldn’t fathom for the life of her why Barney was haunting her. Sometimes his green spots would overwhelm him, or glow white - other times, he’d be completely blue. She’d watch in bewilderment before waking up.

Then he started showing up playing the theme song on some sort of flute - I love you, you love me - and she felt like she was going insane.

---

The sleepless nights were starting to get in the way.

All she wanted to do was write about fashion - to share with the world how this form of self-expression was so inherent to being alive, to help people understand that how we present ourselves was an art form in its own right.

All she wanted to do was impress reporter Kara Danvers. Yet there she was, complaining about coffee on her clothes to a stranger who turned out to be her idol, only to later fall asleep at her desk.

Why am I like this?

---

She didn’t catch the name of the man in the pizza shop. Truth was, she was entirely too pissed off about the whole incident to think that far ahead, and her sleep-deprived brain was too exhausted to make the swerve from thinking about the pizza shop owner’s bigotry to figuring out how to flirt with a stranger.

But she did feel a tug of interest that day, and she was kicking herself in the aftermath. Why did I tell him to find me?, she lamented, I should’ve just given him my number.

The mystery didn’t last long, as the stranger reappeared - A friend of Kara’s? Small world - rattling off her address and phone number and other personal details as he reached for a scone. “Why didn’t you call?” Nia asked, laughing.

“You told me to find you, not call you.”

Nia smiled. Another person might’ve found the response creepy, but she found it oddly charming.

---

The dreams were only getting worse. Random shapes and images, or moments that would repeat in real life the next day, or horrific happenings that Nia prayed weren’t real.

Still, the cracks in her shell didn’t start appearing until she found Kara Danvers knocking at her door. Somehow, the blonde’s calm and compassionate demeanor finally let Nia open up - and so Kara became the first person Nia told about her suspicions, that the dreamer powers had come to her. What will Maeve think?, Nia lamented.

Nia wilted under Kara’s optimism, realizing the blonde thought far too much of her abilities. “My dreams aren’t like you think,” Nia asserted. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”

But Kara had a solution for that, too. Brainy strolled in - calling her by an old traditional naltorian name, which Nia found astonishingly odd - and offered to help her.

What surprised her most - more than Kara’s compassion or Brainy’s ability to trigger her dreams - was that she had been able to help in the fight against Agent Liberty.

She supposed that was something.

---

That was not the first date she had expected.

In fact, it hadn’t been a date at all, which had left her in a rather dour mood.

Me? A superhero?, Nia thought, reflecting on Brainy’s proposal. That’s crazy.

---

Someone brought coffee for the team at Catco. One was even her go-to sugar-free vanilla latte. 

That wasn’t the part that bothered her. What bothered her was the “Barney” written on the cup. Suddenly those dreams she hadn’t thought of in years came back to her. Like the dinosaur? “Who’s Barney?” she asked to the room.

“Barney Fife,” Brainy said, “is my name among humans.”

Fife? Like a flute? The damn psychedelic dinosaur flashed in her mind, and she suddenly realized why it would at times shift from blue or green. Oh for fuck’s sake.

---

There was no more running from it.

She dreamt of spiders and black ink and poison. And then her mother had died, and she was forced to reveal herself to save the town. As Maeve bitterly threw her biology in her face, Nia found herself feeling more alone than she had ever been. There’s no turning back now, she mourned.

Life will never be simple again.

---

She couldn’t believe that her idol - in the form of reporter Kara Danvers - could also be Supergirl.

Stranger still was realizing the weight that Kara had on her shoulders, the secrets she carried. Nia had never thought about the burden of heroism, but she supposed she was going to find it out first hand. “Help me train,” she asked Brainy.

It became a burning desire, to honor her mother and heritage - something she could hold onto in the face of her mother’s death and her sister’s rejection. The walls she had built up to avoid even acknowledging her powers seemed to collapse in one fell stroke, and she found herself pushing to the edges of what was possible as the dreamer. Far too quickly, she knew, but if she could just be useful…

But that wasn’t in Brainy’s syllabus. It wasn’t the pace she should be training at. “And now you’re astral projecting,” Brainy said, “That jumps months of training.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Nia murmured, “I just… I move too fast because that’s what I do.”

“That’s what heroes do,” Brainy asserted, “Leaping before one looks is part of the job description.”

Nia eyed him curiously, realizing she had misread the situation. Brainy wasn’t frustrated. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that was admiration in his eyes.

---

She thought things were going well. Until James ended up in the hospital. What use are these powers if I can’t even keep my friends from getting shot?, Nia thought.

She watched as Brainy’s own guilt ate at him, his own fears bubbling to the surface - how he couldn’t protect James, how he almost couldn’t save Kara, how he didn’t want to become the evil mastermind that his family was hoping for.

She kissed him.

But Brainy broke away. “You and I can never be together,” he said. It didn’t really make sense, but all Nia could do was watch him leave. Sometimes a dream is just a dream.

---

“What are you doing?!” Nia asked, as Brainy locked her up again. What’s going on with you?

“You have to go through the portal,” Brainy said nonchalantly. “Once you’re on the other side, astral project.”

“Brainy,” Nia shouted,  “You can’t do this-”

She continued calling his name as he closed the container… but he was gone.

---

She had faked her own kidnapping, then gotten actually kidnapped when she was abandoned by Brainy, then finally managed to astral project and pass on a message - ending up facing a reactor in the middle of gearing up to commit a genocide against her mentor’s people.

It was not a good day.

Nia sprinted to the other side of the reactor, ignoring Brainy’s statistical analysis as she forced a surge of power in the hopes of matching J’onn, trying to overwhelm the reactor into shutting down.

She could hear Brainy, hear the odd cadence of his voice change, going from the cold facade that he had adapted when he locked her into the container, to a confused series of mumbles about Socrates and Monty Python, until he finally seemed to snap.“Stop! Stop what you’re doing!” Brainy shouted desperately, his cadence sounding normal again. “What you’re doing doesn’t make any sense!”

That’s what heroes do, Nia thought as she struggled, unable to reply to him as she focused on pumping energy into the reactor. Leaping before one looks is part of the job description.

She couldn’t move from her spot, couldn’t check the progress of the reactor. She could only try to cause as much power to surge as she could, knowing that J’onn was just across the way, trying to do the same. Is this where we die?, she wondered briefly. Will we save Argo?

The mystery didn’t last, not as Brainy’s words began to break through again. “You’re amazing!,” he shouted, and she almost smiled through gritted teeth. It’s working, she thought, we’re winning. “You’re astounding!” Brainy continued to shout, the joy rising in his voice as he paced. “You’re astazing, Nia Nal… and I love you.”

It was then that the sparks became overwhelming, and all three of them collapsed onto the floor as the reactor blew. The core is self-destructing, she thought gratefully, trying to catch her breath.

Nia turned to Brainy, and was surprised to find him looking overwhelmed. He smiled back warmly. “When this is over,” he said, “I would like to ask you on a proper date.”

Nia’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“I have not asked yet,” he clarified, rising to his feet. “Back to battle?”

Nia bit back a smile. “Of course.”

---

Nia collapsed onto her couch. What a day, she thought, reflecting on the superfriends’ debriefing. “Not every day is like this one,” J’onn had said.

The dizzying moment of the evening had definitely been when Kara - the person she looked up to most, both as a reporter and a neophyte vigilante - had pulled her aside. “Thank you for saving my people,” the kryptonian had said.

Nia smiled at the memory.

She heard a knock at the door, and groaned slightly as she dragged herself off her couch. Maybe that’s the pizza I ordered, she thought, but she felt the briefest flash of a dream - that damn dinosaur again.

She opened the door, finding Brainy on the other side, holding a bouquet of roses. “I am proposing we spend an evening together,” he said, as Nia smiled and took the flowers. “I am thinking of dinner, and… a movie,” he continued dramatically. “Nia Nal, would you go on a date with me?”

Nia grinned. “Yes.”

[ms-all-sunday]

w7 robin is creepy. most creepy thing about her is how she refuses to react to any of it. like the most creepy reveal ive ever seen in anything is that robin doesnt even need to be put in seastone handcuffs to listen to the government. shes either completely nonreacting in a way that makes you feel intensely uncomfortable or reacting like she's seen a monster right in front of her that you cant see but shes convinced is there.

when i call robin creepy in water 7 im doing it with the knowledge shes coming off as creepy because she has personality disorders and ptsd, and shes in a triggering situation for her that is partially her fault and partially the governments, (like i genuinely think w7 is the best possible representation of being triggered ive ever seen, i really do fucking intensely relate to robin.)

i think the reason i feel so comfortable in calling her creepy on this blog despite the fact i have never been comfortable doing so in reference to any other character with that level of trauma is that the reason she's creepy in water 7 is not from a point of alienation?

i always used to think "having a mentally ill person be bad means they get nagito komaedaed" and what i meant by that is they get alienated from the narrative. its a thought i had specifically after seeing persona 5s akechi play out (that game should on paper be way more sympathetic and not alienating towards akechi than it is) and it was the best representation ive seen of someone being bad and mentally ill that i had seen up until that point, but he still gets nagito komaedaed.

as in, i feel he gets alienated from the audiences perspective and you are supposed to view him as a horror monster rather than a character. akechi is kind of like progressive nagito komaeda.

so when i call robin creepy, i mean that in the sense i don't think her perspective gets alienated from the audience. (in the nagito komaeda way) i think you're supposed to always view her as a friend and someone close to you. which i think is where the good horror comes from in regards to how she acts in water 7. you fundamentally couldn't have the horror of her situation impact you as much as it does in w7, without the understanding extended to her.

the story water 7 is about a lot of things, but most of them can be captured in "when mentally ill people do bad things because they're mentally ill" and i struggle really bad when i'm perceived as creepy or monstrous because of how i act in regards to my mental illness, being able to conceptualize someone seeing me as creepy even when they love me and are close to me or even because of it helps with that a lot. and there's naunce to it too, because in canon robin also has people perceiving her as a literal demon child and that from other people is coming from a horrible place.

this also leads me into how great of a title "demon child" is for her, because she allows herself to be defined by that trauma for the majority of her life and the title reflects that. both how she lets other people define her by it and herself.

[fictionfixations]

LMAO ZEN (doesnt it happen for everyones routes though? i havent done like another story yet tho)

anyway before i get into talking about jumin (as the route im on rn) i wanted to wonder

yknow how certain things happen but only on someones route?

like zen has the echo girl thing, idk what yoosung has i forgor but i think jaehee had that one project??? that got her interested in like coffee stuff? jumin has the arranged marriage?? and seven has like. well. the hacker stuff.

but it never gets mentioned on someone elses route ? i dont think? i feel like itd be more cooler if it was all happening at once as like little references (but either something they can handle or cant handle outside of the route. just like maybe a vague mention of trouble to interest the player in that route, while still making sense from like a timeline standpoint???)

like. people doing things but its not because youre the one pushing it towards that. i like that more. and im curious how chaotic itd be

anyway

JUMIN. (disclaimer: I dont like him)

WARNING i start venting in this post. theres only one mention of a triggering thing (which is warned before the actual vent part but i dont want to put here to bring the mood down more cause in all honesty im over it. im just kind of projecting.)

i think ive said before how i can understand the liking of possessive partners

but. okay maybe its just that i dont like jumin as much as the others but. this is kinda way too much. or maybe its that i value my own independence a whole lot or maybe its because i really dont like the thing with his cat (and i LIKE cats. so giving me a character who likes cats and making me not like them??? ahgeiudhf)

like 'dont leave or ill go insane and make your face known everywhere so i can find you again' like the fuck no w h y CAN I LEAVE

I want to leave i dont care if i get the bad ending get me out of here 😭 (actually i think the bad ending mightve been if we encouraged being compared to like his cat and like. was willing to stay forever.)

e w NO like CHILL

maybe. im. being too extreme. and im just too on edge. but like. can you not. i am not your property?? i am not an object??

now LISTEN i understand marking. like like yknow biting and so and so as like a claim over your partner. and now that? thats hot and i like that. but thats ONLY for the bedroom there comes a point where too much of a thing is a bad thing

ALSO we've known each other how many days has it been. eight?? WE've known each other EIGHT days dont be horny bonk

g o o d . this is good.

STOP. dont talk like you know whats best for a person. like its some thing that'll happen, not a what if.

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. now if he was being more weird id say go home but hes. OKAY. ish. now. like hes trying. and anyway getting him to not do it takes time. and also this is a game of romance fantasies where creepy shit gets played off as kinky or something. (not a jab towards mysme its just the kind of thing its trying to do which can result in uncomfortable parts if you take off your rose-tinted glasses of wOAH ROmANCE. its expected since ppl think certain things are hot when in reality its kind of very not that great)

…CAN I GO HOME???? like BRUH im not gonna accept you just cause you do so and so

why does this feel like a 'nice guy'. maybe this is my bad because this is making me really want to leave buth gdiuhfuih

trigger warning. i vent. mention of kermit sewer slide but nothing actual.

ive been pushing the 'stay here to help jumin feel more calm' but. i do also need to prioritize my own well being and my well being is not happy here rn 😭 (on a serious note though while its important to be there for your partner, its NOT a good thing to give everything to make sure your partners okay, because y'all are equals and as you help them stand they need to help you stand too or you'll collapse under all that and it really wont be a good time. im telling you its very draining. and why i promote the idea of get your shit together before you get with someone because there comes a point where you can be too dependent on your partner which isnt good for you or for them [and they can feel hesitant to express their feelings because they dont want to hurt you, or hesitant to do anything too stressful because theyre like that support pillar for them, and they dont want to do anything that causes otherwise because they dont want their partner to get hurt. it can also mean they go along with what the other wants even if they dont really want to because they dont want to hurt them. am i projecting? ithink im projecting. cause like. ive been there. and honestly i think it kind of fucked me up cause there was like a power imbalance in that one was significantly more fragile and vulnerable then the other, which made me feel like i should be going along with it because i didnt want them to be hurt when they didnt have anyone else they could rely on but me. [i tried to get them to make more friends cause relying on a single person is very unhealthy but no dice] but that also meant that they didnt respect my boundaries or respect me when i say no and instead just gave off excuses to make me change my mind or made me feel like i had to do what they wanted or theyd deliberately hurt themself. so.. it was a lot. anyway it really fucked me up cause i felt like i was in the wrong for not going along with it. blah blah blah. we split. i genuinely have no idea if it was true or not but they'd started saying things to make me feel bad and just not a fun time at all. they were probably in a really dark time in their life but im gonna be honest. i dont know in what scenario its okay to go 'im gonna kermit sewer slide if you dont [blah blah blah]'. so yknow. and this is not really the same but it still feels the same in walking all over boundaries and lines and is especially why i do not like this character a bit. yay trauma.])

i might actually get a bad ending because i. really dont like this.

[slocumjoe]

PLeaLSE gage headcanons LITERALLY ANYTHING fluffy I BEG

*cracks knuckles*

Separated into normal, shippy, and miserable. Everything nasty is below the big red banner.

Will whistle at songbirds when he sees them, if its safe to do so/won't attract anything. Knows a lot of different calls/songs. One of the few times a random person will see him genuinely smile, is when he gets a back-and-forth with the little things.

Have said before, but enjoys whittling. Crotchety asshole, but he did it to make toys for his younger siblings (of which he had a lot) and friends. If a kid wanders up while he's doing it, curious, will offer to teach them how and gives them whatever it becomes. He doesn't need it, it's just wood. But it seems a waste to just chuck all that work in a bush or whatever.

Knows how to be helpful in a kitchen/campfire/general cooking affairs. Also said this before, was a mama's boy, and always helped her around the house. Very good knifework. Has a habit of going 'behind' whenever he's...well, behind someone while cooking. Their kitchen was small and god forbid you bump into Ma and she spills something.

Knows a lot about creepy-crawlies. Dislikes your standard wasteland bugs, but spiders, bees, ants, stick bugs, etc, from the Old World? Like snakes, very into them. Would be the type to approach arachnaphobes with his hands closed, telling them to guess what he had. It would be nothing. But you wouldn't know that from his grin.

Related, good with animals. He was raised on a farm, after all. Likes most of them. Out of all of the other companions, Dogmeat is the one he likes the most.

Also have said before, but will keep an eye on a buddy/associate/whatever if they're drunk. Like, Gage won't let you walk off with a stranger while you're pissed. And he certainly won't let a stranger walk off with you, if you catch my drift. He hates alcohol and alcohol drinkers, but fuck, he doesn't want that kind of shit happening. It's a remenent of being the eldest child, gotta look out for everyone even if they're pissing you off.

shippy stuff

Extremely physical, but reserved. Won't initiate anything, not even to hold hands. Rarely acts like he needs/enjoys it. It takes time for Gage to be open like that, visibly affectionate. Once he is, though, clingy. Cuddle-every-night kind of guy, doesn't understand why you'd sleep in the same bed if not touching.

Cat-like. Will kinda...nuzzle, bump their foreheads together, lean his head on theirs, etc. If this is brought up he will stop doing it forever.

Will fall asleep if given a massage. Gage would let someone touch him like that only if he trusts them more than himself. Its not a much bigger leap for him to fall asleep with his back to them.

Preferred sleeping position is laying on his partner in some capacity, either on their shoulder, chest, stomach...again, cat-like. Not often he initiates affection, but once he does, personal space is a foreign concept.

Hug-from-behinder

All of these have something to do with sleeping, you might notice. Gage does not let people see him sleep, know where he does it. The ultimate sign of trust from Gage is being unconscious around them. And if he wakes up unharmed, unfucked with? It would take a fucking lot for that person to lose his loyalty and love. They're basically married now.

Seriously, Gage doesn't do 'downtime'. He can't relax like that. It's his partner's presence that helps him feel safe enough to rest for the sake of resting. Doing nothing is more meaningful to Gage than doing anything. Gage is always going, or planning his 'going'. Getting him to stop is a triumph.

Will share food with them. Have half of this fruit, eat the rest of this stew, finish these eggs for him. Won't even realize he's doing it. Gage is kind of a control freak, always wants to make sure everything is running well, taken care of.

His partner helping him shave his hair. Just consider that. Consider them with their hand on his jaw, tilting his head. His stubble scratches their fingers. Their hand is so close to his throat, they could feel his slow pulse with one little movement. In their other palm is a razor. They stand behind him, diligently scraping. His eye is closed, his own hands idle in his lap. Maybe someone talks, maybe they don't. The bathroom is small and the door is closed, and Porter Gage gives them sharp metal and bares his throat.

^ this is the lewdest, vilest, indecent, most embarrassing thing I've ever written, and I once wrote a fic where character A was described as using character B's prostate as a "character V deserves better" button.

❗trigger warnings start here❗

S/A victim and will not recognize, acknowledge, process, or accept it

Part of the thing with Conner...Gage says how Conner made him feel, how closely they worked together. Even if you get that story out of him, he's not going to mention just how close they would get.

Same thing happened with Colter. Gage always wants to be close to the boss, the guy making the choices. He thinks its of his own volition with Colter—but either way, Conner and Colter got theirs. Regardless how Gage felt about it.

Had something of a drinking problem when he was younger. Did it mostly to feel mature, adult. This stopped when he joined his second raider gang, after the Conner incident.

Every so often, has an episode of some kind. Angry, manic, depressed, paranoid—its very rare but Gage gets into these spells that last about a month. They usually involve him looking over his shoulder, so to speak, looking at the path he took to get where he is. Looking at the shadow he has and the demons in it. Thats largely why Gage is a workaholic, always going. If he stops, he might glance at all of the shit he's been through, and he loses his mind for a while. No one knows, it's wholly private. Gets through his day normally. Its all in his head, no external expression. Nothing in his face, his tone, movement, behavior...you couldn't never see it. You'd only know if he told you. God knows he wouldn't.

Another thing he won't acknowledge—misses his family. Absolute fucking liar, he was really close to them before bailing out of the blue one night. He didn't think about it until he almost died to Conner, and had that one moment where he seriously regretted leaving, and wanted to go home. He rarely ever thinks about his family, and even more rare does he recognize the empty hole in his chest as homesickness. When he does, has one of those episodes.

These episodes end with Gage hardening even further. He shaves off a little more of his humanity each time, whatever he considers a weakness. Its just like whittling.

His emotional walls are a two-way street—it keeps everyone else out to protect himself, but it also cages him. Build up enough walls, you have a labyrinth. You'll lose your way around eventually. If not found by a Sole, or anyone else who befriends and gets close to him, Gage would end in a bad fucking place. Whether dead or alive, he would barely be a person. Just a husk with no rhyme or reason to what it did, running purely on autopilot. He's a raider, so he raids things. No thought of survival or anything like that anymore. Mechanically going through each day until he eventually died. He's about 3/4s of the way through this internal withering at the time of the Nuka World DLC.

[thankyouforthev3n0m]

Aye, it's DubDaddy on the track

Not a rapper, but I thought I'd have a crack

Another song, another bar, another stack

We keep coming back now we're picking up the slack

Get laid, get paid, gatorade

Trigger treats sweet but can't beat the blade

It's Halloween bitch it's time to get made

You better lock up or you're gonna get slayed

Aye the boys are comin in

Got lit last night on the cherry gin

Smokin gas, eating ass, now committing sin

We going large like Amy Schumer's second chin

Hey everybody my name is JoshDub

When I don't do crime I talk shit at the club

I like corona no lime and having a tug

I get my bread no crust cause you know I'm a thug

It's Halloween, my girl cook and clean

Doing flips in the sheets, call that trick and treat

In the back of a Bentley and we got on rings

Riding in the streets shouting scary things

The Boys in town and we hunting clowns

Couple Kings with a couple crowns (dank memes)

Scaring kids while we're blowing clouds

It's Mully in the back and your bitch is getting ploughed

It's spooky and cold on this dreadful night

But we got some beauties in our sight

We love the shadows, and fear the light

But we'll steal your girl with one quick bite

On Halloween you can hear many sounds

Some screaming, some crying in the background

But if I see some kind of creepy clown

Oh you better believe it's going down

All the witches they be on me, with glee

When I walk up in a room its a party

Got no reflection but there's one thing you can see

All competition running scared as they should be

Never giving out our secrets I'm like (hush hush)

Wiping away all the haters like a (brush brush)

We be stealing all your candy in a (rush rush)

Dropping songs and videos that always (crush crush)

Got these demons in my head overwhelming me with fear and dread

(Dread dread dread)

Screaming in my bed, keep me grinding till I'm dead

(Dead dead dead)

Spirits in my mind come to visit me from time to time

(Time time time)

People say I'm sick but I swear to God I'm fine

(I'm fine, I'm fine)

Trick or Treat, excuse me what the fuck is this?

Candy corn, Bit O Honey, one Hershey Kiss

Que no sabes que me dicen el Mexorcist

If you don't know who I am, then I'll tell you what it is

Got a blanket to protect me and a wooden cross

I sprinkle holy water to show demons who's boss

I make videos to scare all the kiddos

And I'll exorcise your Tia with a bag of hot Cheetos

I shook Freddy Kruger's hand

Grow harder than the grudge

Make Pennywise float too

And give Huggy Wuggy a hug

I got good at hide and seek

You can always ask the fed

I put poison in your goat

Now that chupacabras dead

I live in the States, born in Monterey

Got a gringa by my side

She can cook some frijoles

I cross the border and la migra said

'hey, come on down but you just can't stay'

Running and hiding and walking and fighting

You don't got the papers to even be trying

To say it was easy then I would be lying

Soy un inmigrante con gran corazón

empeze recojiendo la bazura de tu escalon

Y ahora ocupo la pantallo de tu abitación

Asta parece yo tomo gasolina.

Te incendió con mi rap eso es pura adrenalina

Mi tierra la extraño nunca olvidare mi casa

Un saludo para todos mis latinos y mi raza

Now give me the Reeses cup bitch

Yada yada yada yada, something bout a square

New meme Juice Box bout to go Blair

Like the Witch, that's the sitch

Halloween night bout to wake up in a ditch.

And I'm stacking up dinero

Got this young man feeling like George Romero

Pick the bone clean always saw it in the tarots

Dig a little deeper boy you almost skipped the marrow

I don't really know

I don't really know

Yada yada

Yada yada

My goldfish took a little holiday

Left me feeling sour like that Minute Maid

One day he said he want to go to outer space

So I made a little rocket outta Gatorade bottles

Catch your grandma at the Walmart

And she gonna catch the fade

I don't really give a fuck

Im just tryna get paid

I'll smoke your grandad too

If he even looks my way

I'll kick your little sister

In her motherfucking face

That's that shit you learn in Florida

When you smoking K2

Hold that shit up in my chest

Boy I'm bout to turn blue

Im might mosey down to Target

Man and buy me that canoe

@jadest0ne

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 42

It's 1967! Doctor Who has started on the telly, look.

But! We are jumping in with our... second? third? episode of the Flux, so Whittaker, Yaz and Dan are trying to deal with a universe that just got munched while dog people save Earth and Division are being shadowy paymasters. Last time we saw this, we saw the Doctor be delivered by weeping angels and then met her breathtakingly well-acted adopted Mam, and it turned out she runs Division and also was the one who actually triggered the Flux ready to move to another universe, while Yaz and Dan ran around in the 1910s with a fabulous professor called Eustacius Jericho.

This episode, we meet Jericho seemingly for the first time with an angel-possessed psychic called Claire, in a 1967 village. What an odd choice. Almost as though we are watching this in a very stupid order.

I FUCKING LOVE THIS EPISODE THOUGH

It's an angel episode!!! And a good one!!! The last one we saw was the Angels Take Manhattan, which is contemptible shite that makes zero sense. But this one! It's fucking fantastic. It's proper creepy horror from start to finish - in spite of being in the middle of a six-part story, there's little arc plot beyond a very small handful of scenes. Otherwise, after an unexplained start where a weeping angel is somehow in the TARDIS and hijacking it, we are treated to the tale of a village called St Hilary in Cowbridge Medderton in Devon the night its inhabitants all mysteriously vanish without trace, leaving it to be taken over by the military as a locked camp in the future. One woman in the village knows it's coming, and is desperately trying to warn people, but no one is listening; but, it emerges that this also happened to the village in 1901.

Why? Because angels send the inhabitants back to 1901.

And then back in 1901, do the same thing there, too; and anyone who is sent back more than once dies.

WHICH IS INTERESTING GIVEN THAT THEY SUPPOSEDLY COULD SET UP A "BATTERY FARM" IN MANHATTAN AND SEND PEOPLE BACK REPEATEDLY NO I WILL NEVER BE OVER THE LORE BREAKING OF THAT EPISODE-

Anyway, this one's great. Tonnes of tense, creepy horror, and trying to run away while yelling "DON'T BLINK", although they could all do with working on their teamwork in this field, to be honest. Like, if there are two of you, maybe one of you do the angel observing and not blinking and the other do the looking where you're both fucking going and guiding? Maybe? Maybe that's a good idea? Maybe trade off who's doing which job? Maybe don't all try staring and walking backwards at the same time, thus stumbling into each other/more angels? Really atmospheric, though, proper tense. Also, new lore introduced! Whatever holds the image of an angel can itself become an angel, with a lot of energy on their part. This makes The Angels Take Manhattan even more deeply stupid, since the Statue of Liberty is possibly the most photographed statue in the world, but okay.

Anyway. Claire the psychic is from the present day, but is possessed by a fugitive angel that's on the run from Division. The others are trying to capture it. She gets sent to 1967 by one, but the one possessing her is hiding inside her. Yaz and Dan get whipped back to 1901 while looking for a lost 10 year old called Peggy, who it emerges has been angelled, and also becomes the old woman who knew this was coming in 1967. The whole village, it seems, has been "quantum extracted" - pulled out of space/time to extract the fugitive. While fleeing, Jericho gets angelled and lands with Yaz and Dan, which explains why he was running around the 1910s with them before.

But, the angels take the Doctor instead of the rogue one. We know that bit! We saw that last time.

Meanwhile, some minor arc - Vinder the beautiful man is still searching for Bel. Bel, though, finds her way to a planet that supposedly offers 'salvation', a woman who arrives to take survivors away to a safe haven from the Flux. Turns out it's the beautiful geode lady though. She takes the survivors into Passenger, which is an endless prison. Bel saves an ungrateful man from this, and then swans off into the universe to stop it, so well done her.

LET'S TALK ABOUT JERICHO THOUGH I love him. I love him very much. Kevin McNally plays a fucking blinder with him. Oddly, watching the show in this order really made us feel the horror and impact of the First World War, but not so much WW2 - I think the forays into it were mostly either played for laughs (punching Hitler) or jingoistic tedium about sucking off Churchill, with no real sense of the impact at all. But Jericho has a great little monologue at one point, after the Doctor admires how his scientist mind wants to understand things, and so doesn't stop to be scared. "I was one of the first British soldiers into Belsen after the War," he says. "If you think a few stone statues will destroy my equilibrium, you are mistaken." He also has a spectacular moment where multiple angels suddenly break into the room, and he squares the fuck up to them with all the gravitas and power and titanium-spined energy of David before Goliath and commands them "You stop right there. You are observed, and that is my power over you."

God fucking damn it. Incredible. What a character, what an actor, what lines. Ugh. Perfect.

Anyway, plot threads! Let's see. I mean we have LOTS of planets that have disappeared. Maybe that's the Flux? That seems logical; when Bel reaches the ungrateful man, he tells her that the planet they're on is the last, most intact one in the sector ("A third of a sun, quarter of a moon, half a planet"). Um, the TARDIS is sort of broken/not working again, but then we start the episode with an angel piloting it somehow, so... is that why? And, why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?

Fortunately, we don't need to add any plot threads about Division, because that's already been resolved. This watch order is stupid.

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. The Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact). NEW INFO: is this the Flux?

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (unless she’s Missy. Nope: she is definitely not blown up)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again. NEW INFO: NOPE, back to not working.)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)

Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?)

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri (NEW INFO: not anymore, somehow)

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory? How did she forget a Dalek invasion?

Is Rory plastic or not?

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras?

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather?

How did Nardole die?

When does Bill get Cyberman-ed and die?

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name?

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

What’s happening with the bees?

What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?

What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?

What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”

If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?

How did the rest of the Time Lords die?

How and why did Amy melt?

What’s the question that will make silence fall?

Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?

How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?

How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?

What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?

Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?

What happened with the space whale?

When does Rory defend Amy for 2000 years?

How does the Doctor survive River

How does he erase himself from history

Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?

When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?

What’s with the weird crack in the wall and is it affecting memories?

Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead?

Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?

Why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?