#tatuaje family

[mire-tattoo-santako]

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[josecabiativa]

🖤 Tatuaje de abuela #tattoo #ink #inked #grandmother #love #tattoolove #family #familytattoo #tatuajes #realistic #black #blackandgrey #popular #reel #viral #instattoo (en Tattoo Academy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpBs7_etcjQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[needletems]

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[greensagephase]

Making Tamales with Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x FemaleReader

Summary: You make the first batch of tamales for the season with Miguel.

Word Count: 1,909

Warnings: Reader knows or at least understands Spanish; Reader knows how to make tamales; Miguel talks in Spanish a bit but translations will be provided at the end (italicized); teasing and smug Miguel; It's alluded Miguel and reader did it at the end

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As soon as Miguel feels the first chill of the season, he tells you it’s time to make tamales. You agree with him, of course, so the two of you plan an afternoon to make them. Miguel and you prep the kitchen. You have all the ingredients and supplies out from the leaves to the masa, the filling that the two of you prepped, and other items like the big pot where they’ll be cooked.

Miguel takes charge of preparing the masa. It only seems right as his large hands can get it just right and much quicker than you and your smaller hands. Of course, it also helps that this man is like a walking furnace, which means his warmth is perfect to help the melted lard mix in with the masa. His playlist is playing in the background, which is composed of music that he grew up listening to and that will help keep both of your spirits up as you make the tamales because he knows how exhausting it can get after twenty minutes of working. Thankfully, he has upbeat songs like those from Joan Sebastian such as “Tatuajes,” Bronco’s “Que No Quede Huella,” and Los Angeles Azules’s “Como Te Voy a Olvidar.” You notice Miguel bopping his head as he prepares the masa, his lips moving as he sings silently to the songs, which you can’t blame him for because he’s playing iconic bops.

Meanwhile, you prepare the leaves. You soak them in warm water in a large bowl, making sure to sink them with your hands so the top ones get covered, too. You dump the water out a few times, making sure the leaves are clean before you leave them to fully soak. You prep the pot and the containers you’ll be putting the tamales in as you make them before you put them in the pot.

At last, Miguel tells you the masa is ready so the two of you start. You’ve seen other methods on social media, but Miguel and you stick to the traditional method using spoons. The two of you take a seat and start and well, this is where the peace starts fading because the two of you start to get competitive. If you grew up making tamales with all your family pitching in to help “para terminar más pronto,” you know how competitive it can get with who prepares the most leaves. And of course, for you and Miguel, it’s no exception as you both grew up competing with your relatives.

Neither of you say it but you can tell. Miguel casually looks at the stack of leaves with masa you have ready. He grins to himself, knowing that he has at least three more than you when he looks at his taller stack. You notice his grin and force yourself to hide a frown, thinking it’s unfair. With his large hand, Miguel can cover more ground. He doesn’t have to turn the leaf on his hand so many times like you to cover the same amount of space even if the leaf is the same size.

You speed up, casually, of course. You don’t want to tip Miguel off. You want to win this, even though it’s silly, especially when you see his little grin like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“With this speed we’ll be done in no time, preciosa,” he says, trying to sound neutral but oh, you know when Miguel is teasing and he’s definitely teasing you right now.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, knowing that will only give him more satisfaction. So instead, you nod and smile.

“I hope so. You know how the first batch of the season always hits different,” you reply as you pick up another leaf and quickly grab a spoonful of the masa. Your movements are fast and experienced as you spread the masa over the leaf evenly, but it still takes you double the time it takes Miguel to get one done.

And you’re not as slick as you think you are. Neither of you are. You both know you’re in an unofficial competition with each other now. The playlist Miguel has playing in the background is kind of forgotten at this point even when a song that you both enjoy is playing. You’re both focused on beating each other, though Miguel isn’t really worried, and you can tell. He feels so comfortable with his progress that he slows down, preparing the leaves in a calmer manner, unlike you.

It just makes him grin as he steals glances at you. And just when it looks like you’re about to tie up with him, Miguel picks up the speed again, whistling as he does so to whatever song is on now. It gets on your nerves, but you keep a neutral face despite knowing he’s doing it to annoy you. You pick up another leaf and grab a spoonful of the masa once again, wincing as the spoon makes contact with the finger you’ve been supporting it with this whole time. You can already feel the skin tender and sore, a sign that tomorrow you’ll have a full-on blister if not by tonight before you go to bed.

Miguel’s eyebrows furrow as he notices you wince. He puts his leaf and spoon down and walks around the table to you. You continue to spread the masa over the leaf, still trying to beat him when he takes your hand, the one that’s been holding the spoon the entire time. You begin to protest but he hushes you as he leans forward, bringing your hand to his face. You sigh agitated and look at him. Miguel is looking at your finger before he rubs his thumb over the sored area gently. He meets your eyes and gives you a small grin as he does so.

“How about I take care of the rest, preciosa? You can start on the filling with what we have already,” he suggests quietly.

You’re about to decline but he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing the tender and sore skin of your finger, while meeting your eyes. You shut up and sigh. You’re competitive but you know when to admit defeat. You nod.

“Fine. I’ll do the filling,” you mutter and retrieve your hand after he kisses your finger again.

“Muy bien,” Miguel replies, giving you a grin and kissing your cheek before he returns to his spot.

So, you finish making the tamales by putting the filling in them as Miguel finishes using the masa. And yes, you’re a little upset. Just because you know when to admit defeat doesn’t mean you aren’t a little sored about it. You always beat your relatives growing up, so you’re not used to losing this competition.

After putting the tamales in the pot together, Miguel and you clean the kitchen. You head to the living room and lie down on one of the couches once you’re done with your part, knowing it’s going to be about an hour before the tamales are ready. You turn on the tv, still feeling upset as you switch channels. Not long after, Miguel walks out of the kitchen drying his hands with a towel since he volunteered to wash dishes, which just made you feel crappy because he always volunteers to wash dishes to spare your hands from the harsh dish soap but especially today due to your sored finger; his kindness is like salt to the wound, and yeah, maybe you’re being a little dramatic but who cares.

He approaches you, throwing the towel over his shoulder before he stands behind the couch. He peers down at you, noticing the pout as you switch channels, and grins. He knows you’re sored over losing even if it was a friendly competition. He leans down on the couch and caresses your face with the back of his hand.

“¿Sigues enojada, preciosa?” he asks in a whisper.

Your pout becomes more noticeable as you turn to look up at him, meeting his red eyes. You stare at him, unable to stop yourself from feeling a little breathless at the sight of his face. You cuss internally because it’s so unfair for this man to look this good after making tamales. Some strands of hair hang over his forehead and he has a bit of powder flour on his cheek from when he was first prepping the masa. You lift your hand to his face and wipe it off gently.

“I wasn’t upset,” you reply, clearly lying, as you retrieve your hand from his face but Miguel grabs it before it’s away from his reach. He brings it to his face.

“Ah, okay,” he answers with a grin. “That’s good to hear. I thought you were a little sore back then. And not just from your finger.”

You snatch your hand from his grip and turn away from him, facing the tv and ignoring him. Miguel chuckles lightly at your reaction, clearly amused. He walks around the couch to the front and before you can protest, Miguel is over you. He has no problem moving you to his liking, placing you between his legs before he lies down on you.

“Miguel! Seriously?” you say trying to move but your efforts are useless when it comes to Miguel, who settles on top of you with ease. You sigh annoyed even though you’re in no discomfort because Miguel knows exactly how to position himself to avoid crushing you.

So, you just lay underneath him and turn your face to the tv as an effort to at least ignore him, though that’s a very challenging task because the man is on top of you and now his mouth is on your neck, peppering your skin with kisses.

“Andale, preciosa. Don’t be upset with me. We have a whole hour before the tamales are ready. You can’t avoid me. You can’t even leave the house. You know the rule. We both put the tamales in the pot, and you know what they say,” Miguel says, planting a kiss on your neck at the end of each sentence. “¿No queremos tamales pintos, verdad?”

You try very hard to ignore him but his warm breath, his lips on your neck, the weight of his body over yours keeping you in place always does something to you. And Miguel knows it. So, he uses it to his advantage. He continues to kiss your neck, eventually escalating to biting your neck gently, which instantly has you closing your eyes and whimpering underneath him.

Needless to say, the tamales weren’t the only thing that got a filling, and thankfully the two of you remembered to check on them once the hour passed by. You concluded the evening by eating some delicious tamales, definitely needing the energy after so much work.

As the two of you eat tamales, Miguel leans closer to your face and pecks your cheek.

“The first batch of the season definitely hits different,” he whispers with a grin, causing you to roll your eyes at him but now that you have food in your system and took out your annoyance on him, you grin back.

“I don’t know how but I’m beating you next time. So be ready,” you answer.

“Preciosa, I’ll help you win as long as I get to have you and tamales at the end.”

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Translation for italicized words: Masa - dough para terminar más pronto - to finish sooner preciosa - beautiful muy bien - very good ¿sigues enojada, preciosa? - still mad, beautiful? Andale, preciosa - come on, beautiful ¿No queremos tamales pintos, verdad? - we don't want painted tamales, right?; "pintos" is used here in place of "raw" (there are several myths (my family and I have never tested any) about tamales getting "painted," which means that some parts are cooked and others uncooked for different reasons, one of them being that the person who prepare the dough or the people who put them in the pot can't leave the house). _____

My family and I made our first batch of tamales this week and I just got inspired by it. Imagining Miguel mixing the masa got me in my feelings. 🥺 This is just based on my experience but other people who make tamales may have a different method(s)!

[pearlsinmyhair]

༄ breath of venus ༄

chapter six ~ eye of the storm

summary: venus bullies lopez a little. she and mansk have another moment. quaritch and venus find a little bit of calm. quaritch and lyle start to coparent. venus speaks spanish.

word count: 5.4k

warnings: cursing en español

authors note: ok guys, i’m so sorry if this spanish is not up to par. i cross referenced so many different sources, especially about the use of ‘chocha.’ remember how venus patted lyle’s head when she was a baby?

glossary

¿hablás español? - (do) you speak spanish?

Sí, lo estudié durante muchos años. Sin embargo, mi acento está fuera de práctica. - yes, i studied it for many years. however, my accent is out of practice.

Tu acento está bien. Sólo un poco rígido. - your accent is fine. just a little stiff.

Tus tatuajes son un farol, ¿verdad? - your tattoos are a bluff, right?

¿Qúe? - what?

chocha - pussy

eres terrible, niña - you are terrible, girl

Y eres crédulo. - and you are gullible

“all sins are attempts to fill voids.” - simone weil

“I don’t believe you.” said Ja from the bank of the spring they had stopped at. Venus was knee deep in said spring cooling off, and she laughed softly at his words.

“You can refuse to believe it. That doesn’t mean that it is not true.” she replied as she waded to the sand. “I swear to you, on all that I hold dear, that they are like my siblings.”

They had been traveling non-stop for nearly two weeks now, and their bodies ached with cramps and knots that never seemed to ease. It was Venus’s suggestion that they stop.

She knew the area by description, not experience. The Omatikaya had close connections with the Tawkami due to the latter clan’s trading outposts and routes. As tsakarem, Venus was given the responsibility of diplomacy and hospitality and was charged with greeting the visitors. Neteyam occasionally accompanied her, but his age made him quick to annoyance and uneasy with the tentative nature of alliance. She had not seen a trader since before the war, and she personally believed that they had hidden, at least from the Omatikaya and other clans of close proximity to Bridgehead.

Many of the marines had taken the opportunity to empty their packs and wash clothes. Venus even showed them some plants they could use to clean, not wanting to pollute the stream with the harsh soap they carried.

Quaritch notably did not participate, instead keeping watch whilst leaning against a nearby tree. He seemed determined to disassociate from anything Venus involved herself in, and it was beginning to irk her.

“What are their names, then?” Zdog butt in, and Venus waved a dismissive hand at her.

“It’s my turn now. You’ll have to save your question.”

It took three days for someone to break the silence of the group as they traveled. Quaritch had given Venus a throat comm and ear piece, but there hadn’t been much talking besides orders and directions. It was Lopez who had snapped whatever invisible tension that rested between her and the recombinants when he suggested a game.

It was simple: Venus and the squad would each have five questions that they would ask a day. Ten questions total over the span of twenty-four hours. He called it ‘trade’. Quaritch called it a waste of time. But they had tried it anyway, and it was working so far.

The squad had already asked her two questions: the one at which Ja showed disbelief of was if she had animal mounts besides her ikran. She had explained Pali, and then added that she had a close familial bond with a few thanators.

Venus pulled her songcord from beside her ear as she asked her question.

“Can I see your tattoos?”

She figured that it wasn’t too much to ask.

That was another rule: no deep questions. None that would entail revealing secrets, at least, both personal and war related. Said rule had been instilled by none other than the grumpy Colonel not twenty feet from where she stood.

Most of the squad had removed their tops to rinse off, so she got a pretty good view of most of their tattoos. The few that hadn’t stripped were Ja, Mansk, and Quaritch.

Zdog went first. The female recombinant hadn’t exactly minded taking off her shirt and standing in a sports bra. Next to Venus you look like a nun, Brown had joked. Venus whacked him with her tail and Z whipped his shoulder with her rolled up tank.

Unlike most of the others, Zdog’s tattoos were colored, and she even allowed the girl to trace the honeycomb-like structures across her arm. When her finger wandered to the snake with the inscription of ‘deathless’ on its scales, she met Z’s eyes and raised a brow.

The woman just chuckled, and Venus moved to the others. She deliberately saved Quaritch and Wainfleet for last. She lingered at Mansk, whose tattoo was covered by his shirt. He had flipped his sunglasses atop his head, showing his different colored irises.

“Eventually.” she said to him, referring to his covered tattoo. He nodded. “Eventually.”

When she moved on to Lopez, she had to bite back a grin. She had been waiting for this moment for some time now.

There was a human woman that had stayed after the war. She was beautiful, with dark curly hair and bronze skin, and her voice tilted with an accent that sounded delightful to young Venus’s ears.

The woman’s name was Lilliana, and she was one of the first avatars who interacted with her without fearing Neytiri’s wrath. Venus grew attracted to her and often went with her to the avatar tent, something that Neytiri greatly appreciated when she had Neteyam and Kiri, with Lo’ak on the way.

It was there that she got introduced to Reggaeton. She could still remember the moment that she heard the strings of a guitar and the bump of electronic bass when she was seven.

Long story short, she demanded that Lilliana teach her spanish, mostly so she could sing it, and partially so she could understand. Norm was able to procure language books and work pages while Lilliana helped instruct her and fill the gaps.

And it was for that reason that she easily translated the tattoo inked across Lopez’s chest.

Sepulturero.

She had nearly curled her lip in disgust when she first saw it, but then she decided that the irony of it was amusing.

“Gravedigger.” she uttered as she stood in front of Lopez, studying the way the word arched under his collarbones.

He raised a brow, eyes widening in slight shock. “¿Hablas español?” he asked softly.

“Sí, lo estudié durante muchos años. Sin embargo, mi acento está fuera de práctica.” she said as she shifted her attention to the tatted brass knuckles on his hand.

“Tu acento está bien. Sólo un poco rígido.”

She nodded at his words. As much as she’d love to sit and talk with him, she had much more pressing matters to attend to.

“Tus tatuajes son un farol, ¿verdad?” she said, allowing her voice to rise slightly in volume. The marines conversations had died down, now attuned to the way that Lopez’s expression shifted from surprise to anger at her words.

“¿Qué?” he questioned, his eyes hardening as her face shifted towards amusement.

“Your tattoos, they must be a bluff. There is a saying from a human book: any man who says ‘I am king’ is no king. I believe it to be the same with these markings. Why would you need to write it on your skin if your actions did not already prove them true?”

Lopez practically snarled at her, but this was not the first time that a man taller and older than her had shown such hubris. Having brothers honed her skills at humbling others, and she applied them when needed.

She smiled up at Lopez mockingly, cocking her head to the side in a silent challenge.

This was a common occurance between them. Lopez was the only one who truly entertained her antics, so she pestered him when she needed to let off steam. Be that through ikran chases or arm wrestling or death diving.

She knew she had touched a nerve, but she had learned Lopez’s emotions well. He was pissed, yes, but he wouldnt hurt her. He frequently insulted her back, so this verbal repertoire was relatively tame.

It was Quaritch’s insistence upon her stopping that angered her. And now was no different.

“Venus, Lopez, knock it off.” he called from the shade. Venus’s tail lashed as she glared over her shoulder at the Colonel. Every time she had any semblance of relaxation or fun, he was breathing down the back of her neck, treating her like she was some spoiled brat that he’d been stuck with.

Lopez followed his orders, though he shoulder checked Venus as he passed. It was that action that made her realize that she may have bruised his ego a bit more than intended, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

These were her captors, after all. She had no need to feel sorry for them.

At least, not about immature insults about tattoos.

She carefully removed the woven jewelry from around her waist as she stepped to the water once more. She set the strands and her armbands down on her bag before she reached up and untied her chocker from her neck.

She passed the piece to Ja, explaining how each little dark point was a claw or a tooth from one of her siblings when they were babies, and his eyebrows shifted up as he handled it with care, studying the necklace.

Venus walked over to a ledge that wasn’t far from where Lopez and Brown were now conversing good naturedly. Lopez’s shoulders still knit from her insults, and she smiled to herself. She checked to make sure that the water was deep enough as she stood on the edge of the rock.

She turned to them and took a deep breathe, recalling what Lilliana had always said.

‘If a boy or a man every gets a big head, you set him right. you plant your feet in the ground, turn to him, and call him una-‘

“chocha.”

Lopez turned to her so quick that she barely had time to squeak before he leapt at her, tackling her right into the water below.

For a moment there was nothing but splashing and churning white, and the recombinants watched in amusement as a blue foot appeared before slipping below the surface. When the water calmed and neither Venus nor Lopez rose to the surface, that amusement turned to slight panic.

“They’re gonna drown each other.” said Brown, who leaned over the edge to gaze into the deep water below. Due to their blue skin, he couldn’t pick out any figures. “They won’t drown each other. Venus will drown Lopez.” said Z confidently.

The soldiers turned to the woman, and she simply raised an eyebrow. “She’s really very strong, and she’s lived here for longer than we have. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t underestimate her.”

Quaritch walked up to look over the ledge, standing next to Brown.

“Ten seconds and we’re going in to get them.” he said, brow knitting as he too searched to no avail.

“We? Who’s we?” called Lyle, who stepped towards the bank of the river. “I’m not going to get Lopez’s sorry ass if he drowns. He tackled her, so he’s going to face the consequences.”

“Since when is everyone so confident in the kids skills at drowning people?” Quaritch asked, smirking at Lyle. His corporal looked to him with his head cocked to the side.

“If you paid attention to her, you’d not-“

Before he could finish his sentence, Lopez burst from the water, coughing and sputtering like a drowned cat. He looked like one, too, wet and pissed off. For a moment, the squad waited with baited breath for Venus to emerge.

“Im right here.” came a voice from one of the pools behind them.

And there she was, squeezing water from her hair like she had gone for a nice swim rather than wrestling a marine a foot taller than her.

Zdog was the first to break the silence.

“Who won?”

Venus flashed her canines in a quirked smile.

“Who do you think?”

Zdog fist bumped her, and Quaritch scowled. Z’s ears folded back, backing down, but Venus seemed to rise under his glower.

“He tackled me.” she said as she walked past him, making sure to sling some water from her hair onto his back.

She stepped to Lopez, who was catching his breath on his back on the sand. She reached out a hand.

“Eres terrible, niña.” he said as he took it. Venus pulled him up with a smile. “Y eres crédulo.” she replied.

As he walked away to his pack to get a clean shirt, Venus turned back to the Colonel and Wainfleet.

She wasn’t surprised by Quaritch’s tight jaw or tense posture, no. It was Wainfleet’s look of disappointment that seemed to cool her blood, but she became irritated just as quickly. What right did he have to be disappointed at her?

She simply scoffed and moved to a patch of sun to dry off and comb through her hair, refusing to acknowledge anyone for the rest of their time at the spring.

༄

Venus shifted against the bark of the tree, thinking that when she got the chance, she was going to hibernate on her mat at home.

While she never had qualms about sleeping in trees, constantly doing so was taking a toll on her spine. She practically had to wring herself out every morning to stretch, and the cracking that ensued made her cringe.

But being a hostage wasn’t a luxury, so she took it in stride. There were worse things.

Mansk had taken first watch, sitting a few feet from where she was. His sunglasses sat in his lap, so she was able to study his face. The way that his ears flicked told her that he knew she was looking.

“What are their names?” he asked, voice quiet as to not disturb some of the sleeping soldiers.

Of course he had remembered. Mansk paid close attention to things around him, and he must have mentally saved Z-dog’s question for later.

His eyes shifted to meet hers, and this time she didn’t shy away. He had grown comfortable with her over the past days, peeling back the layers that he concealed himself with as a defense mechanism.

Under all the stoicism was uncertainty and some insecurity. While they hid it well, the recombinants were not happy with their body switch. Venus could empathize: if she woke up in a human body tomorrow, she’d be devastated. So she didn’t push them to talk too much about the change.

She tilted her chin in question, and he gestured for her to come closer. She did, scooting her butt until she sat beside him, listening to his breathing as she thought of her answer.

She registered that Quaritch was awake and listening, though he tried to pretend otherwise. His ears pricked up, swerving to listen to their conversation as his eyes remained closed.

“There were five in the litter.” she said softly. “But only three live. A boy, Armua, died when the sky people returned, burned up in the fire of the ships thrusters. And a girl, Wa’su, died giving birth to her first litter.”

Mansk hummed, looking down at her without fully turning. She was thankful for it. While the wound of Wa’sus death had healed, Armua was still fresh. She remembered searching for him for weeks. He had been the one that was closest to her, having territory not far from the villiage.

She had found nothing but ash.

Some of the marines had risen now, woken by their voices. Lyle yawned widely as he shifted to look at them. Quaritch had given up his little ruse and took a sip of water before handing the flask to Lyle.

“The three are Tamar, Salínu, and Ke’muntxa.” she said, turning to address them as well.

Brown’s ears pricked up. “No mate.” he translated, and Venus’s brows raised in surprise. So they had been listening to her language lessons.

“Yes. She’s a female thanator who lives not too far from here. We flew over part of her territory. She’s the eldest of the group, though not by much. She is my favorite.”

“And she has no mate?” asked Mansk.

“Nope. She rejects every male that tries, fighting them and chasing them off her territory.” Venus answered, smiling fondly at the memory of her sister chasing her brothers away from her, viciously protective from a young age.

Lyle smirked. “Remind you of yourself?”

Venus’s smile sharpened. “Piss off.”

He raised his hands in a ‘I surrender’ gesture, laughing softly. “Just saying. I don’t see you with a mate either, V.”

Something about him smiling made her soften, like the grip around her chest loosened slightly. Lyle had all but ignored her this whole time, outright refusing to talk about the first three years of her life and the last three of his.

She couldn’t exactly blame him. It wasn’t the conversation to have lightly over their comms, but still. The way he looked at her, with his brow furrowed and words behind his eyes, hadn’t exactly helped the tension.

This was the first time that he really spoke to her, looking directly at her and smiling. He joked easily with the others, even the Colonel. But with her, he was distant and cold, only acknowledging her when necessary.

But just as quickly as the mask slipped off, he put it back on, and the warmth of his eyes vanished. Her smiled dropped as well, and she retreated back to lean against the tree. She settled back, and Mansk’s arm brushed hers softly.

She looked to Quaritch, meeting eyes with him. “I meant to tell you earlier, but we’ll be traveling straight through Tamar’s territory. He’s highly aggressive and very protective, so we may want to remain above ground for as long as we can.”

Quaritch nodded, laying back down on his back, stiff as a board. He didn’t like taking advice from Venus, but he was learning that her knowledge was useful when it came to protecting his squad. It was a silent truce of giving him morsels of information and him taking it like a child forced to swallow medicine herbs.

She watched him for a while, and after a few moments his eyes turned to meet hers. The shift in his face was barely visible, but his ears dropped, jaw relaxing as his eyes softened. It was odd to see his inner turmoil, and if Venus had been any less aware of others emotions she would have missed it entirely.

He broke the staring contest first, and she looked away.

The rest of the soldiers settled down, burying themselves in their packs to try and get some sleep before their own watch shift came.

She turned back to Mansk, opening her mouth when-

“Lights out, Venus.” came Quaritch’s low but stern voice, and her tail flicked irritatedly as she turned to look at him.

“You’re not my father.” she uttered, so low that only he and Mansk heard. Mansk inhaled sharply, pointedly turning his face away from whatever father-daughter confrontation was happening.

Quaritch leaned up once more to look squarely at her. “Fine, kid. I’m not, but I am the person in charge of keeping you in line. So get in your pack before I make you.” he practically hissed. Venus barred her teeth, ready to bite back when Lyle’s sleepy voice interrupted.

“Quaritch, let her do her thing. She’ll be fine.”

Venus turned to him, surprised at the casual ignorance of authority. Lyle was feircely loyal to Quaritch, following and respecting his orders always. But now he interviened on her bahalf?

Lyle’s eyes shifted to meet hers before glancing at Mansk, then back once more.

He winked.

Oh, Great Mother.

Her ears burned viciously and heat prickled the back of her neck.

Quaritch glared at the corporal before sighing and rolling over so that his back faced them.

She glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed what just transpired, but everyone seemed asleep.

Seemed.

She leaned back against the truck of the tree, giving Mansk a disbeliving look. His shoulders shifted in a silent laugh, and she bumped her elbow against his in mock annoyance.

Mansk was…easy. Quiet. Now that she knew him, she hesitated to call him shy. He was more contemplative, not as brazen or cocky as the others. He could be when he got loose enough, but most of the time he was wound tighter than a bow string.

And she had made it her mission to loosen it. She didn’t know why.

Well, maybe she did.

“Your turn.” came his opening.

She reached up and rolled the beads of her song cord thoughtfully as she debated. She had two more questions to ask per Lopez’s rules.

“How old are you, really?”

Mansk leaned his head back to look up at the stars just peaking through the leaves. The stretch moved his shirt slightly, and Venus took a moment to admire the peek of his chest tattoo that poked through.

“Well, I was sent to Pandora when I was sixteen.”

Her eyes snapped up to look at his face. “That hardly sounds ethical.” she replied tentatively.

He hummed thoughtfully, putting the memories together in his mind. “I had an aunt who was pretty high up in the RDA, and she personally recommended me to the Colonel. I needed the money, so I took the offer. When I got to Hellsgate, I was technically twenty-one, but no one ages in cryo sleep. I was on there for four years before I died.”

“Twenty.” she murmured, thinking it over. How it would feel to have lost all that time but at the same time having no repercussions for it.

“Is it the same feeling now, having been gone for sixteen years?” she asked.

Mansk’s ears lowered, and she immediately regretted asking. But as soon as she opened her mouth to apologize, Mansk lifted a hand, silencing her.

“Kind of. I know that it should feel like a gap, but it feels like i was asleep. But then…that man isn’t me. I just house his memories.” he replied, and Venus had to fight the urge again to reach to him.

So that was how they felt? Like corpses, carrying on someone else’s lives.

She supposed that was what an avatar was. A vessel.

But they were not avatars. There was no body in the distance piloting them.

Words sat on the tip of her tongue, begging to fill the quiet between them. But she clenched her jaw and held them in.

Instead, she gently took Mansk’s raised hand.

He flinched, the touch unexpected, but she just cradled his hand in the palms of hers, spreading the fingers and studying them.

A beat of silence, only filled by the soft breathing of the soldiers around them, all asleep.

Mansk’s question filled the air without him having to say it.

What are you doing?

She didn’t answer it, instead tracing the lines that flowed down to his wrist. He shivered as her fingertips traced his veins. She pressed her thumb against the center of his hand, and his fingers curled reflexively.

“You are not him.” was all she said before she let the hand go. He retracted it slowly to his lap. Only then did she notice that he had fully turned to her and that their knees were brushing.

“I used my last two questions. You have two to ask.”

She didn’t look up into his eyes, she was afraid of what she might see in them.

It is much harder to kill something when you see it, granddaughter.

But sometimes it needs to be killed, regardless of its thoughts.

You have much to learn.

“How do you know english so well?”

Ah.

“My father always suspected, at least a little, that the war was not over. It was for that reason that he kept his english sharp. And as the eldest, I learned it as well. I understood it could be useful diplomatically.” she murmured, gesturing between them as if to say ‘see?’.

“And my vocabulary comes from reading and speaking to the scientists that stayed back. I love books, but I had to use a magnifying glass to see the letters without holding the pages up to my face.” she chuckled, swallowing awkwardly as silence filled the space between them again.

The thing about Mansk was that when he thought, you could feel it. Like a cloud of static enveloping you if you were close enough. And with his breath teasing the hairs on her forehead, she was easily close enough.

She studied the camo of his pants, tracing the designs with her eyes as he put the words together in his head.

“Why are you doing this?”

She looked up at that, only to be met with Mansk’s heterochromic irises.

The intensity of the stare made her swallow, and she was once again hit with the same feeling of being seen that she had tried to ignore weeks before.

“Doing what?” she asked, trying to play innocent.

“Talking to us, teaching us, warning us.” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

It was a question that had haunted her many sleepless nights. A fight of her heart and her morals. They are the enemy, they are people. They are redeemable, they will never be uncorrupt. She had not yet solved it.

So she answered honestly.

“I don’t know.”

His eyebrows knit at her response, and she could tell that he was unsatisfied with that answer. But he didn’t push it. Instead, he reached forward and gently traced his thumb along the veins at her wrist.

“Let me know when you do.” he said, with a note of finality that let her know that the conversation was over.

She let out a breath of air as she stood, unsettled with it. But she went to Quaritch’s bag, where he kept a spare bed roll for her.

“No complaining, you hear me?” he had said as he handed it to her.

She was grateful for it, but she decided to mess with him a bit. “Does Ardmore know that you took an additional roll for the savage girl?”

His eyes hardened, and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mumbling something about “taking the high ground” as he stalked away.

The only available space around was next to Wainfleet. Otherwise, she’d have to climb, but the her head swam with exhaustion in a way that suggested certain death if she even tried to get higher up.

So she unrolled her pack along one of the intertwined branches and laid down, determined to get as much shut eye before sunrise.

As she stared up at the sky, Lyle rolled over, wide awake and bright eyed.

“That was a fucking train wreck.” he said, and she had to fight the urge to slap him. “You talk to everyone you’re interested like that?”

“Oh and i’m sure you were a real lady killer back in your day, huh. It’s not like that, anyway.” she responded, voice low as she turned to face him.

His smile was sharp. “Oh sure. And i’m still spry enough to kick you off that branch.”

“You won’t. You like me too much.” she said, chuckling.

The weight of her words thudded in her chest, too late to take them back.

He looked…frozen. Like he had been caught by a predator in the forest, deciding if he should run or fight.

She didn’t know exactly how long they stared at each other, but it was long enough for her stress to turn into frustration.

Now or never.

She reached her hand forward and set it on top of his head.

It was ludicrous, borderline comical as she sat up on her elbow with her hand on top of a killer marines bald head.

When he didn’t slap her palm away, or bite an insult, or kick her off the branch, she opened her mouth to speak.

“I’m her, Lyle. She’s still here.” she murmured, watching his expression carefully.

The moisture pooling in his eyes must have been a trick of her eyesight and the light of the bioluminescence around them.

She swallowed, pulled her hand away, and rolled so that her back faced him, begging the Great Mother to give her the sweet mercy of sleep.

༄

She awoke to the soft cooing of an ikran.

Her eyes fluttered as she took in her surroundings, checking each bed roll to see who was here.

The only one missing was Quaritch.

Go figure. He had taken the last watch, pressured by the others to get some rest. Now, as the sun began to rise over the horizon, she found herself searching for the man she was so determined to avoid.

The cooing sound rose through the branches again, and Venus stood to follow it to one of the branches on the opposite side of the tree.

She had instructed the recombinants on what branches to sleep on, and she had deliberately made sure that they slept on the side opposite the rising sun.

She rounded the tree trunk to find Quaritch trying to give Cupcake a tumpasuk.

She let out a soft whistle to alert them of her presence, and their heads both snapped to her. Cupcake let out a low hiss as she took a step forward, and Quaritch turned to the ikran and tutted her.

She watched as his ears suddenly shot forward, and he reached a hand to her.

Ah, so he had been paying attention to her and Mansk at Bridgehead.

She carefully grabbed his forearm, allowing him to pull her to Cupcake. The ikran hissed again before sniffing at her. She let out a snort of approval, and Venus raised her hand.

Cupcake snapped at her halfheartedly, but Venus had dealt with temperamental banshees all her life. She carefully slid her hand past the orange comb at the base of her jaw, finding the dip of skin along the underside of her head and itching.

Cupcake’s head dropped against her chest with a soft squeal, nudging her in a silent demand for more. She looked at Quaritch to find him staring at her wide eyed.

“How come she acts like a hardass to me, but shes all sweet with you?” he said softly, the question mostly rhetorical.

“Because i’m listening to her.” she responded anyway, rubbing her hands along the various divots that were hard for the ikran to scratch. She carefully grabbed the banshee by her chin and turned her to Quaritch, gesturing for him to continue her actions. When he did so, the banshee cooed gratefully.

“I was trying to feed her.” he told her as she settled down next to him, and she studied the fruit that he showed her.

She smiled. “Ikran do not eat tumpasuk. They prefer meat, always.” The colonel rolled his eyes.

She watched him try to bond with Cupcake, but there was something wrong.

“You’re hesitating to fully become one with her. It is why you struggle when you fly.” she said, resting a hand to his bicep to get him to stop. He turned to her in surprise at the touch, but she was already sliding under Cupcake’s neck to stand by her side.

She gestured for Quaritch to follow, pressing her ear to the banshee’s ribs. “Feel her breath, and then breathe with her. Start to become one with her before you even make tsaheylu.”

Quaritch did as she instructed hesitantly, pressing his own cheek to Cupcakes skin, feeling the pattern of her breath before trying to match it.

In and out.

She felt the coils of the ikran’s muscles loosen, and she gradually relaxed against her rider. Quaritch himself seemed less tense. Or, as less tense as he could possibly get.

“When you are ready, make the bond gently. Allow yourself to really feel her thoughts, her lungs, her strength.” she whispered as Cupcake lowered her queue to Quaritch.

The colonel brought his braid over his shoulder and carefully made tsaheylu. The ikran shuddered, and he whispered little reassurances. Venus watched as Quaritch slowly unfurled, allowing his mind to fuse with his ikran’s.

She had instructed many before him, but the change in him was the most drastic of all. His shoulders dipped, and she watched as the pairs breathing became simultaneous and connected.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, but after what seemed like a century Quaritch opened his eyes.

“I’m still not letting you indoctrinate me into your little insurgency, kid.” he grunted, still pressing his face against Cupcake.

She sighed in mock disappointment. “I know.” she said, taking a step around the ikran back to the trunk. “But it was worth a shot.”

As she began to round the corner, Quaritch called out to her.

She turned, wondering if he was going to insult her.

“Thank you.” was all he said, and Venus nodded, retreating to the rest of the squad to wake them up.

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taglist:

@xstarsmvxz @lisedanie @avatar4eva

[virtuouswhitehatorganization]

Tatuaje (Villainous Oc)

Name: Itzae Canul

Age: Born in the 40's (still looks like she's 20)

Ethnicity: Mexican with Mayan Ancestry

DOB: January 30th

Headcannon Voice Actor: Chelsea Rendon (English); Rossy Aguirre (Spanish)

Sexuality: Straight

Affiliations: Black Hat Organization

Abilities: Power to manipulate and generate tattoos; Eternal youth ; Hand to hand Combat

Residence: Marin City (currently); Merida, Mexico (birthplace)

Occupation: Villain; Tattoo artist

Relatives: Salvaje/Jaime Hidalgo (father-deceased); Itzae Canul (mother-deceased); Junjaw (stepfather-deceased);Coyote/Brian Z. Romero (younger-half brother); Kitsune/Kyubi Noriko(younger half-sister); numerous half-siblings

Personality: She is a loud, rude, sarcastic, deadly, competitive, short-tempered, cynical, confident, arrogant, and considerably aggressive person who also exhibits a wild temperament. She believes in brute force and coercion to get her way. She also is a heavy drinker and is unapologetic about it. She is humorous and witty, and she can be quite a talker when she is not mad. She can be quite sadistic and merciless to opponents that get in her way. She also can be a flirt and tends to tease people who take her interest. Despite her rough nature, she has a hidden soft side when she realizes she has siblings. She begins showing how much her earlier life has affected her and how much she tries to hide under her tough girl act. She often has a tendency of teasing them both by calling Coyote "little brother" (even though he dwarfs her) and Kitsune "little sister" (while pinching her cheeks). However, she does show her care for them is genuine and grows to be close to them both out of the siblings she found. She grows to have a protective streak over them even if they are capable of handling themselves. However, she does find care in all the siblings she's found and will be willing to get along with them due to their shared blood. She also hates Smiledon and swears him as an enemy for trying to kill her and all her fellow siblings due to them being children of his brother, while also pretending at first he was a caring uncle type to them. She has a skeptical side of people's motives due to her cynical nature and can feel if something is off about them. She also in many ways resent her father for leaving her mother pregnant and as a result having to deal with an abusive stepfather, who she still loathes to this day. She also takes pride in her status as a tattoo artist and considers it work of art. She often will show off her work and present it to others. She often likes advertising side job as an art to villains and for family even gives discounts.

Background: She is the daughter of Salvaje and a Yuctan Mayan woman, Nare Canul, born in the 1940’s. Her mother had a brief fling with Salvaje and then left her. Her mother then married her stepfather, Junjaw, who was abusive to both and in a rage killed her mother at twenty years old when he felt she wasn’t respecting him. A while after her mother’s death, she found tattoo ink that was blessed by the Mayan god of tattoos, Acat, she then tried them on and gained the powers of tattoos and stopped aging. To take vengeance on her mother’ death, she killed her stepfather. She then became a villain while also doing tattoo work on the side. She eventually became a Black Hat Organization member.

* She wears skimpy clothing so it's easier for her tattoos to come out.

* She has worked with Bloodhound but it was a teamwork of convenience and they both buttheads. She's worked with people like Humiko and gets along with them a bit better.

* Due to still looking her 20's, she's sometimes mistaken for Coyote's younger sister.

* She's inspired by Acat from Maya and the Three and Revy from Black Lagoon.

* She's worked for many big name bosses like King Cassino and Miss Valdoom.

* She knows Spanish, English, and Yucatec Maya.

* Even though Kitsune is a hero, she doesn't care and just treats her sister like.

* Even if they are heroes, she will protect them if they have connections with her siblings Green Rod being her little brother's girlfriend and her sister's friend.

Created through https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1532707

[kayime]

lets speculate 😬😂🤭_just for fun

🔺

of course momo names SHAN "mountain"

HE family crest_part of it, ders triangle in it_looks like triangle shape, maybe...🙈

we know momo likes it, yes! sandwiches (he tian rank second 😬)

bonus:

triangle earing

[toxicsoulsblog]

Nu stiu…

Nu stiu unde o sa ma duca viata sau ce o sa fac. Nu stiu ce o sa fie maine sau peste un an. Ma simt singura pe zi ce trece desi sunt inconjurata de multi oameni ce ma iubesc… Eu nu ma mai simt iubita, nu mi mai gasesc locul de cand nu mai esti tu. Sunt in intuneric, asta stiu, m am pierdut acolo si nu vad o cale de iesire, nu pot vedea lumina, nu pot sa mi controlez teama, caci mi e teamă de acest intuneric. Am un suflet gol, o privire rece si ma ascund dupa niste glume tampite pe care le fac zi de zi. Zi de zi ma mint si imi pun un zambet pe fata doar de “decor” e ca si cum mi as pune un machiaj pe fata ca sa fiu mai frumoasa, insa eu stiu ca nu sunt… zambesc insa stiu ca nu sunt bine :) Arat lumii ca nu mi este frica, ca mi este bine si ca sunt ok cu ce mi se intampla… doar eu stiu adevarul, doar eu stiu cat ma doare, doar eu stiu cat de defecta sunt si cat de mult imi doresc ca acea iubire de sine sa creasca pe zi ce trece si sa uit de tot ca sa ma pun pe mine pe primul loc, odata si pentru totdeauna, sa ma iubesc la nesfârșit. Crezi in zodii? Eu am inceput sa cred, sunt zodia gemeni si din cate am inteles, nativii din gemeni se tem de singurătate, asa e dar acum depinde si de persoana, eu de exemplu cand imi fac o relație, persoana respectivă devine lumea mea, o fac prioritara in viata mea si imi dedic tot timpul pentru acea persoana, imi devine prieten, familie, psiholog etc. Când persoana respectivă dispare din viata mea, automat eu ma simt singura, desi am mai spus si o repet, sunt inconjurata de multi oameni dragi mie. Atat de complicata si diferita ma simt de restul, modul meu de suferinta e incontrolabil, stres si panica, regret si furie, de atatea ori imi calc peste orgoliu si ajung sa ma umilesc pentru acea persoana… ca sa ce? Pana la urma nu le pasa, cand te umilești si te injosesti chiar nu le pasa, poti sa mori pentru ei caci nu le pasa.. Nu stiu ce logica are aceasta postare dar asta am simtit sa scriu si nu mai zic ca simt o gramada de chestii si le as scrie pe toate ba chiar as incepe o carte ca la cate m a supus viata asta… ma mir de cum mai traiesc cu o asa mentalitate. Ma gandesc ca o sa fie bine si la mine si ca toate astea o sa treaca, ca singuratatea asta pe care o simt nu o sa fie pana la nesfârșit. Ma gandesc ca ce e al meu e pus deoparte si ca cele bune urmeaza sa vina si crede ma ca astept cu nerăbdare acea zi in care o sa răsuflu usurata si o sa zic “ am trecut si peste asta, inca traiesc si sunt chiar bine, nu am facut nici o prostie pe care sa o regret mai apoi” O sa vina, pe o parte am incredere desi sunt cum sunt acum, desi gandesc atat de negativ… totusi mi am facut un tatuaj si pentru asta e si acolo unde am vrut sa fie facut, ca atunci cand ma uit in oglinda si l privesc, sa mi crească incredere in mine si sa mi spun ca ma iubesc atat de mult incat nu are rost sa mi iau viata pentru ca cineva nu a stiut sa ma prețuiască si ca acum ma face sa sufar. O sa se așeze lucrurile si la mine dar astept sa treaca o perioada, astept sa rasara soarele meu care se tot ascunde, imi spune “nu e momentul, toate la timpul lor, Madalina”, si eu am incredere ca asa o sa fie. De la “ nu stiu” am ajuns la “ am incredere ca o sa fie bine , Din “ nu stiu” o sa iasa “ uite unde am ajuns, sunt bine si fericita”. Ma iubesc dar momentan nu stiu… nu stiu cum sa trec peste…….

[tsunami-subastas]

2019

OLA 7/ Estrella Mergá

Nació en 1990 en Villa Constitución. Vive en Rosario desde el 2009, donde se mudó cuando empezó a estudiar Bellas Artes. Actualmente es docente de arte en una escuela primaria, realiza ilustraciones, tatuajes y forma parte del colectivo Cuadrilla feminista. En 2016 publicó el fanzine “Cuzco” con la editorial EMR. Algunas de las muestras en las que participó fueron “Los Accidentes” en el Centro Cultural Recoleta y “Corazones Solitarios” en fundación OSDE. Actualmente está exponiendo en la muestra “Jardines y otras desventuras” en el Museo del Humor, Bs As.

[migratingisaright]

MANEK

-¿Quién eres? ¿Desde dónde y hacia dónde migraste?

Mi nombre es Camila "Mane", soy hija, hermana y compañera. Me gustan los procesos creativos, los graffitis sucios y fluidos, los tatuajes oscuros y el sonido intenso. El mate amargo y la comida hecha con cariño.

He migrado desde Moreno, mi ciudad natal, en el oeste de Gran Buenos Aires, Argentina, al sur de Brasil en la península de Bombinhas, desde muy niña dónde parte de mi familia paterna decidió mudarse en busca de otra calidad de vida. Ya van más de quince años viajando de Moreno a Bombinhas y viceversa, generalmente trabajando los veranos en Brasil y los inviernos en Argentina.

-Who are you? From where and where did you migrate?

My name is Camila "Mane", I am a daughter, sister and partner. I like creative processes, dirty and fluid graffiti, dark tattoos and intense sound. Bitter mate and food made with love.

I have migrated from Moreno, my hometown, in the west of Greater Buenos Aires, Argentina, to the south of Brazil on the Bombinhas peninsula, since I was a child where part of my paternal family decided to move in search of another quality of life. They have been traveling from Moreno to Bombinhas and vice versa for more than fifteen years, generally working summers in Brazil and winters in Argentina.

-¿Qué es la migración para ti?

En 2019 viajamos por primera vez a Chile con un amigo a fin de nuevas experiencias, conexiones y pintar mucho graffiti. Personalmente viaje sin expectativas pero con disposición para todo lo que se presente, y creo que eso hace que uno se sorprenda con lo vivido. Siempre creí que en otros destinos había algo para mí y así encontré una casa en iquique, cómo en Bombinhas como en Moreno. Por eso creo que migrar es jugar de local en dónde sea que esté.

-What is migration for you?

In 2019 we traveled to Chile for the first time with a friend for new experiences, connections and painting a lot of graffiti. Personally, I travel without expectations but with a willingness for everything that comes my way, and I think that makes one surprised by what is experienced. I always believed that there was something for me in other destinations and that's how I found a house in Iquique, both in Bombinhas and in Moreno. That's why I think migrating is playing locally wherever you are.

-Relata la experiencia más difícil en tu vida migrante. Relata la experiencia más hermosa en tu vida migrante.

Tuve malas experiencias que me enseñaron a dónde no volver a pisar y con quien no volver a caminar. Pero no me arrepiento de nada. Experiencias hermosas no puedo quedarme solo con una. Todas han sido momentos compartidos con personas que guardo en mi corazón. Ver el atardecer en la playa de Canto Grande con amigos, que mi viejo me despierte para ver el amanecer el día de mi cumpleaños, festejar el cumpleaños de un amigo con toda la banda en la playa con parrilla, copete y graffiti, son momentos que me vienen a la mente ahora.

-Relate the most difficult experience in your migrant life. Tell about the most beautiful experience in your migrant life.

I had bad experiences that taught me where not to step again and who not to walk with again. But I don't regret anything. Beautiful experiences, I can't stop at just one. They have all been moments shared with people I keep in my heart. Watching the sunset on Canto Grande beach with friends, having my old man wake me up to see the sunrise on my birthday, celebrating a friend's birthday with the whole band on the beach with a grill, pompadour and graffiti, are moments that They come to mind now.

-¿Qué extrañas de tu lugar de origen?

Algo que extraño de mi tierra natal es que mi mamá me despierte para tomar mate juntas en la mañana y escuchar la lluvia en el techo de mi habitación. Caminar por mi barrio haciendo el recorrido de los graffitis.

-What do you miss about your place of origin?

Something I miss about my homeland is that my mother wakes me up to drink mate together in the morning and listen to the rain on the ceiling of my room. Walk through my neighborhood doing the graffiti tour.

- ¿Qué mensaje le dejarías a la gente que piensa en migrar o está en ello, y que hoy lee tus palabras?

A la persona que esté leyendo esto y piensa en migrar le diría que el único tiempo perdido es el tiempo que se demora en decidir si hacer o no hacer a base del miedo. No puedo evitar pensar en la carta " El Loco" que para mí siempre es una carta motivadora. Si no me hubiese animado a salir de dónde estaba nunca habría vivido las experiencias que me hacen ser quien soy ni estaría reflexionando hoy día sobre ello. Anímese amigx!  

- What message would you leave for people who are thinking about migrating or are doing so, and who read your words today?

To the person who is reading this and is thinking about migrating, I would say that the only time lost is the time it takes to decide whether to do or not to do something based on fear. I can't help but think about the letter "El Loco" which for me is always a motivational letter. If I had not encouraged myself to get out of where I was, I would never have lived the experiences that make me who I am nor would I be reflecting on them today. Cheer up friends!

[mire-tattoo-santako]

Tortuga 🐢 #tortuga #tattootortugas #tortugatattoo #tortugas #summer #baby #family #love #blue #tat #tattooideas #tatoo #tattoos #tattooist#tattoowomen#tattoogirls#tatuajes #tatuajespequeños #tatuajesdelicados #colortattoos#tatuajesacolor #tatuadora#santacolomadegramenet#tattoobarcelona #tatuajesfemeninos #tatuajesmujeres #tatuajesespaña #tattooideasforgirls #tattooideasforwomen#turttle (en Arte Tattoo 2.0 the art factory) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfbqAfkMw4x/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Renacer, Revivir, Repetir

by ScapeSystem

Hubo una vez un imperio construido sobre la prosperidad y las promesas de un futuro mejor.

Había una vez un joven príncipe, aún sin alas, que miraba por la ventana de su habitación y deseaba que el mundo se inclinara a su favor.

Había una vez dos hermanos y un padre que se desesperaban por la muerte del menor.

Había una vez un niño, y en su línea de sangre estaba la del Fénix, y cuando obtuvo sus alas, ardieron con el mismo fuego que se marchitó en su corazón mientras yacía en su celda, escuchando a los captores que yacían en el suelo. otro lado de las barras delgadas.

Había una vez un príncipe adulto, que ya no era un niño, cuyo fuego hacía tiempo que se había apagado, cuya esperanza hacía tiempo que se había desvanecido junto con la de sus parientes. Quien se sentó en su celda y escuchó las llamadas de la Muerte mientras sus plumas se convertían en polvo a su alrededor.

Había una vez otro niño, otro príncipe, otra mitad.

Una vez hubo un tatuaje de una abeja que brillaba dorada en su muñeca y sueños de risas que sonaban en sus oídos de personas olvidadas hace mucho tiempo. Esta es su historia.

Words: 7910, Chapters: 1/3, Language: Español

Series: Part 1 of Trilogia RRR

Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF, Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen

Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo, Dave | Technoblade, Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Platonic Soulmates, Yeah it's only platonic you fuckers quit shipping Tommy and Tubbo, Best Friends For Life, phoenix au, Lots of death <3, Wings, Avariel, Phoenixes, More tags will be added when needed, The major character death is...necessary, poor Tommy keeps getting kidnapped in my fics, when will i stop, HAHA never, Blood, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I am not good at writing fluff okay, Family Dynamics, Sleepy Bois Incorperated, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, F1NN5TER (Video Blogging RPF) uses all pronouns

[obyink]

Tatuajul zilei din salonul Oby INK înfățișează un tablou de familie cu o poveste emoționantă 🥰 Busola de la bază reprezintă căutarea, cea care a l-a ghidat pe client către descoperirea singurului lucru care îl menține pe drumul corect - familia 💕 În partea de sus, familia clientului este ilustrată printr-o reprezentare a iubirii și unității lor. Indiferent de cât de lung sau dificil poate părea drumul parcurs, el este hotărât să-l străbată alături de soția și fiul său, fiindu-le alături în toate momentele 👏 #tatuaje #tatuaj #iasi https://instagr.am/p/CvKSeajMiL5/

[theice-onpluto]

Hei, dragilor, astăzi am decis să prind și eu curaj, fiind inspirată de videoclipul făcut de Marilu, și să vă spun povestea mea despre oameni care au încercat și încearcă să-mi taie aripile.

Recomand videoul!

Așadar, încă de mică am fost crescută într-o familie tradițională, în care bărbatul aduce suma mare de bani în casă și femeia se ocupă de copil, cu toate că până la o vârstă am fost crescută de bunicii mei, pe care îi iubesc din tot sufletul. Pe partea tatălui mai am o bunică, dar nu am relații bune deloc cu ea ( e genul acela de soacră care se bagă undr nu-i fierbe oala și vrea să distrugă) .

Tata este tipul de bărbat ușor îngrădit, care crede în conspirații politice și urăște tot ce înseamnă nou și evoluție, dar măcar are un suflet bun. Cu toate acestea, presiunea pe umerii mei a fost mare. Mama mea însă mi-a fost o bună prietenă și încă îmi este aliat. Tot ea s-a ocupat de educația mea.

Prima mea relație, prima mea traumă, prima mea dezamăgire, momentul în care am simțit că sunt bisexuală... Ei nu le știu. Cel puțin tata nu știe.

De-a lungul timpului, tata a lovit în oamenii care își fac tatuaje, cu toate că iubitul meu era lângă el și avea și el tatuaj, a lovit în femeile care se vopsesc, când eu eram vopsită, a lovit în ideea mea de afacere și nu mai spun de părerea lui despre persoanele de altă orientare. E prost de gură și e tata. M-am certat adesea cu el, dar degeaba. Generația lor (nu toată, dar o parte consistentă) e spălată pe creier. Tradiții și obiceiuri sociale, îndepărtate de cultură, ci apropiate spre ură și îngrădire a libertății pe care omul o are ca drept fundamental. Suntem născuți să fim liberi.

Acestea sunt la rândul lor traume și pentru el, date din generație în generație, care se vor opri, și promit, la mine.

[filipport]

Family First! To mega uczucie kiedy przychodzicie do mnie po tak ważne dla Was tatuaże. Wykonane w @kult.tattoo Zapisy/Booking: ⚓️DM 📞Tel: 12 422 05 36 📧E-mail: kultkrk@gmail.com ___ #filipport #kulttattoo #tattoodesign #portrait #art #handmade #tattooidea #tattoo #tattoos #realistictattoo #art #ink #tattooartist #tattoolife #tatuaje #portraittattoo #portret #tatuaggio #tattoopeople #tattoodesign #blackandgray #tattoostyle #krakow #blackports #krakowtattoo #tatuatori #familytattoo (w: Kraków, Poland) https://www.instagram.com/p/CopyahlIXCV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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