Lisiasty

Xe/Xem, Poland, Ang/Pol

[lisiastq]

Carlos Oliveira's admirer (Carlos x Orginal Male Character)

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ Note: This is part 2 (part 1) through Carlos's eyes!

(Ao3) A bit like Reader x Character, but instead of Y/N it's my character's name or surname. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

────୨ৎ────

No one's into Aleksander "Raise Capela," maybe just one person, but whatever. A shorter, introverted guy. Washed, dark pink hair with dark roots visible, a calm, sleepy gaze with bags under his eyes, and the icing on the cake are the piercings in his ears and face. Oh, how Carlos is tempted to bite one of his piercings and pull them out, especially snake bites or industrial. He learned the names so he wouldn't look like an idiot when he finally spoke to him. And three, not to mention his body, numerous tattoos and scars, which he would gladly kiss and protect the boy so he wouldn't have any more. Like a knight on horseback, he would slay all his demons. How? He doesn't know, but he'll figure it out! He'd grab him by the body and pull him close, never letting go. He also dreams of learning his true style of dressing, not his work style. After a bag full of pins and keychains, he expects something that stands out. Something he can proudly say, "This is my beloved," which is everything. How he dreams of it. Has he mentioned how much he'd love to hear his nerdy ramblings? Whether it's about cybersecurity issues or his interests? He knows one: Formula 1. He recognized one of the drivers on the pin because he tried watching it, but it's not his thing. He more or less knows he watches various anime and plays video games. He hopes he'll listen to him compare them to video game characters or call him cute nicknames in Polish. (Or insults and curses… Or moans?)

He's afraid of one, his friend. He knows him, he works as a mechanic, and it's because of him that Raise is here. He knows they definitely have something in common: their shared dinners, those gentle touches and quiet words that make the younger one laugh or blush. He tried to find out on his own if there's anything more serious between them, but he's learned as much as he knows. His friend's name, that he helped him get the job, where he lives, what kind of car he has, that he gives Raise a ride to work and home, so they live close by. Probably, because he never managed to check his private information because he would have to go to the IT building, and they guard it worse there than they guard soldiers' data. He tried to find out from some people who work there, usually women…Most women. However, it didn't work out because they were either not interested in him or were blindly attracted to him. He doesn't plan on trying with men because even they won't leave their offices, and it's quite rude when eating in the cafeteria. Although Capela does go out a bit because he doesn't work long enough to absorb their routine, he's slowly doing it, which terrifies him. Do they have to work every free moment? It's called workaholism, and this one will cure him of that! He'll spend every free moment with him, gossiping about how awful his job is, over black coffee for himself, of course, and instant coffee with a little milk and sugar for him. And to top it off, a caramel cake that tastes and looks like sourdough, something like a brownie, but worse. He'll bake it for him and keep trying until he hears it's better than the ones from Poland. Oh, he has to talk to him sometime before he loses his chance…

-Did you hear that Aleksander? Raise?, Nevermind, he want to quit his job? - woman asked, interrupting his inner thoughts. Firstly, she had no right to disgrace his native name, and secondly, wait, what?

-What do you mean he wants to quit? - he asked, surprised, and in his head he prayed he hadn't said it too loudly.

-He had a fight with the manager and threatened to leave, but he didn't care. I'm telling you because you seem very interested in him. It'll probably be better for everyone, he won't have to bother them here, and the rest won't have to pretend to like and tolerate him. I heard that…

And here Carlos stopped listening because he knew it was just a problem, that he wasn't talking. He hated the rumors about his future boyfriend. How was he leaving? Where? Why? What were they fighting about? He had to find out right here and now, and maybe take him in his house. He excused himself to the woman and approached the man who looked so beautiful in the afternoon sun, oh, with the cash register and the laptop. When he came at his table, he forgot how to speak and what wanted to say.

-Hey Raise, if I'm not mistaken, do you have a moment? My phone's been freezing, and you're so into it, so you won't help me?

Stupid Carlos, he was supposed to say his native name, he was learning to pronounce it after all! He'd still look even more of an idiot than that phone excuse.

-Sure, sit down - he replied, grabbing his bag from the chair.

Oh Jesus, that accent that mutilates English words and makes him unsure if he's saying them correctly. Please, let him finally kiss him and take him to bed so he can speak broken English.

[sunlightb]

VALERIA GARZA X READER

Warnings: Institutional & social homophobia, murder, kidnapping, firearms, and cartel/organized crime environment.

Note: Features dark romance, morally grey themes, and a tragic atmosphere. Reader discretion is advised (+18).

This is part two and there will be a part three.

Part one

Valeria would be 27 now. Every year on her birthday, you buy a small chocolate cake and light a candle. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people are in your life, she left a void that nothing can fill.

If only you had been braver, if only you hadn't run away…

If you had stayed, maybe she wouldn't have enlisted. There are many "what ifs," but "what if" doesn't exist.

Today you're back in the place you swore you'd never set foot in again.

Las Almas.

It's not the same place anymore. It's still a stupid, godforsaken town, only now the drug cartels seem to have taken over.

The streets are emptier, there are abandoned houses covered in graffiti with boarded-up windows, and armed men where children used to play soccer. They're the same children who played there, only now they have guns.

You're here because your father died.

Apparently, he took out a loan and was stupid enough not to pay it back. You don't mess with the narcos, and he thought he was so clever.

Your mother still can't look at you, this time for a different reason. She's resentful because you ran away ten years ago, and she still hasn't gotten over it. Your brothers barely speak to you; your mother filled their heads with lies about you, and you haven't seen your younger sister. No one will tell you where she is.

You notice it on the third day.

A man has been following you since you arrived; anxiety gnaws at your chest. He follows you to your mother's house, to the hotel where you're staying, to the restaurants you visit, and everywhere you go.

You're everywhere except your mother's house.

Everyone is walking behind the hearse in the sun. Your black clothes are only making you feel hotter. At the cemetery, you see a woman in the distance, dressed entirely in black, with short, shoulder-length hair, but you can't see her face; it's covered by a semi-transparent black cloth. There are two men beside her.

You don't know who she is. You simply place a bouquet of flowers your brothers forced you to buy on the gravestone and leave before anyone can stop you.

You walk past the woman, whose scent is familiar, a smell you'd recognize anywhere.

Not a random perfume you could buy at any store, something more specific. A scent that couldn't be recreated.

You don't turn around, you can't get your hopes up. Maybe it's just someone with a similar scent.

You can't help it.

You turn around, the woman has her back to you now, but you'll recognize that tattoo above her elbow anywhere. It's faded now, the ink looks old, as if it hasn't been touched up, but you know it.

After all, you did the design. In a chemistry class years ago, you played with your markers and drew a phoenix on Valeria's arm. The next day, and every day after, she wore long sleeves to hide it from the prefects.

"Valeria?"

Her name barely leaves your lips, but you lose sight of her as everyone starts pouring out of the cemetery. Even now, years later, society still keeps you away from her.

You never see her again. No matter how much you search, you start to believe it was a hallucination. As you said goodbye to your father at his funeral, your mind conjured up a vivid image of Valeria, her face covered because you don't know what she looked like as she aged.

At the same time, you know she was there; you smelled her.

You draw the phoenix from her tattoo in your notebooks, but it never looks right.

It's like you're chasing ghosts. It gets to the point where it keeps you up at night.

After another horrible night of insomnia, you look at the clock.

5 AM

Okay… sure.

You kick off the covers and get up to get dressed. If you weren't going to sleep, at least you could go for a run or see how much the town has changed since you left.

You walk for hours; the sun is at its brightest and highest point.

You head toward the mountains, where you and Valeria used to hide, where years ago you buried a wooden box with locks of her hair and photographs at the base of a tree.

“Hey, muchacha. Where are you going, mija? It's really bad over there… the drug cartels took over that land a long time ago.”

You turn to see the man sitting on the sidewalk with a cooler next to him outside a grocery store. You're near the last houses in town before reaching the mountains.

“What?”

As you get closer, you realize it's Don Salome, an old friend of your grandfather. He doesn't recognize you. Why would he? You were too young when you ran away; that scared little girl is nothing anymore.

“Don’t go there. They don’t ask questions, they just shoot. Doña Cristi’s son went there looking for work in the other town… they shot him. You should have seen what they did to him, the poor guy looked like a sieve.”

God. The violence really did grow like a poisonous ivy…

“Thanks for letting me know, sir. I’m just… I’m just going to walk. I don’t want any trouble.”

“It’s not that. If they see you, they’ll think you’re in the army or something. They’ll kill you.”

“Oh, well, then I’ll go home. Thanks for letting me know, Uncle Salome.”

He’s not your uncle, not really. But he was so close that it was practically as if he were.

As you walk away, you think you hear him whisper your name in surprise.

You don't return until later that night. In the early hours of the morning.

You only want your box, the box you two shared. There are no photos of Valeria, you don't have any; your little phone from those years didn't have a camera. At the town fair, there was a stall that took photos and turned them into keychains for twenty pesos.

You gave the man one hundred pesos; he gave you two photos and a keychain.

In the mountains, there are no lights, nothing but the moon to illuminate the way, and it's not enough.

You carry a small flashlight in addition to your phone. Your body remembers the path as if it were muscle memory; you remember it even though more than ten years have passed.

You haven't even gone halfway when you see it in the distance.

A beautiful house rises on the hill.

A beautiful house, but surrounded by armed men.

A hand grabs your bicep too tightly, dragging you closer to the armed men.

You struggle with whoever is grabbing you, obviously, but they're stronger and bigger than you.

Too fast, you end up with a sack over your head and everything goes black.

You hear people talking above your head, but you can't understand what they're saying.

Maybe you have tinnitus, or maybe the blood is rushing through your ears—you don't know.

They move you from place to place until you don't know where you are, you can't see, you can't hear. They've deprived you of your senses.

“What are you doing, idiots?”

Valeria enters the interrogation room. González called her, saying her soul had disappeared, that he'd lost sight of her.

Later, Ayala called, saying they had a soldier or a voyeur in custody—a woman.

It wasn't hard for her to put two and two together.

Her soul had always been very curious.

“Ma'am, we found this woman wandering around; she had a camera.”

Valeria snatches the supposed camera from one of her men.

It's a square flashlight, and she realizes it's actually a purple power bank covered in stickers.

It looks feminine, almost childish, and the contrast between the dried blood under her fingernails and the pastel purple color is ridiculous.

She closes her eyes and counts to three. Sometimes she wondered why she kept recruiting idiots.

“Where is she?”

“This way, ma'am.”

She hears a couple of men celebrating behind her. Apparently, they're excited by the live executions and torture.

They're so bloodthirsty it's disgusting, but she can't get rid of them. The business is sustained by the people who keep it running.

When she arrives at the room where her beloved is, the first thing she notices is the bruise on her right bicep and the blood running from her slightly swollen nose.

"Who the hell hit her?"

Her beloved is injured and unconscious.

González enters the room behind Valeria.

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry, I… I was watching her from across the street at the hostel where she's staying. She must have left through the back door…"

Valeria doesn't want to hear his excuses; she's seeing red at the sight of her beloved like this.

She pulls the pistol from her waistband and fires near the man's head. The bullet grazed her ear, drawing blood, and left a hole in the wooden door.

González stops speaking, stops moving, even stops breathing.

She clenches her jaw. Then she lowers the gun.

“Get out of here before I change my mind. Everyone go. NOW!”

Her men, too terrified to stay, flee. They practically trample each other.

Firing inside a closed room was never a good idea. Valeria avoided it most of the time, but sometimes it was necessary.

The room now smelled of gunpowder, and her ears rang from the gunshot as she moved closer to her soul.

Each step she took in her direction brought her clarity; she could inhale her scent.

She smelled like home.

She knelt and swiftly untied her from the chair. Her beloved's body collapsed against her, offering no resistance.

She is so happy to be strong now, to be able to carry her without difficulty.

So many years in the army, longing and yearning to have her close, to protect her.

The gods heard her prayers.

Death heard her and gave her the greatest gift in the world.

Now she has her woman back, and she will die before they are separated.

Now she has the power to burn the entire town, as she wanted to do years ago, and she will not hesitate.

English is not my first language and I apologize if there are any mistakes.

Taglist. @reverendrae

[lisiastq]

Carlos Oliveira's admirer (Carlos x Orginal Male Character)

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ Note: This is part 1 through my character's eyes! (part 2) (Ao3) ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

────୨ৎ──── In my opinion, Carlos Oliveira has a great chance in a relationship. Be it with women or men. Look at him. I know he'd surely receive as much love and attention as the universe is wide from this humble young man who's blindly staring at him. His eyes light up like a deer staring into headlights as he walks past. Usually, the greeting drives him crazy. After all, he's some kind of god, not a human! Of course, he'd gladly follow this man's religion. The most devoted to Oliveira's god.

For a long time, he's dreamed of those muscular arms wrapping around his waist and never letting go. He could also wrap them around his neck… He wouldn't be offended if his stubble tickled when he kissed him. He's most curious about what it's like to sit on his lap. His powerfully muscled thighs, which with the slightest effort could crush his skull. The worst part is that is afraid to speak to him. What if the soldier rejects him and laughs at him? He'll tell his friends and be a laughingstock for the rest of his life. Of course, there's such a thing as changing jobs, but not seeing Carlos hurts more.

That's why he's stuck; knows everything about him, yet nothing at the same time. He doesn't know how soft his hair or muscles is to the touch.

The mystery of the world, what Carlos Oliveira smells like up close without perfume, or what his skin tastes like.

Thus pondered the poor cybersecurity boy as he sipped his third coffee of the day, and it's only lunchtime! He stared at his beloved, to whom another woman had attached herself.

Oh, if only you knew, dear boy, that he's imagining you instead of that woman.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[lisiastq]

This is my 4th year here... Can I tell you about my OC? And yumeships

[miloraccoon]

Were langdon and vamp whitaker cause i miss them.

Everyone in the ER was a creature on some sort, they had a few humans on staff but not many. They accommodate the best they can, blood snacks for vamps, nights off for weres, people with wings get ample breaks to stretch their wings properly.

So of course langdon only works days, the risk of him being too feral to work at night. While whitaker.. never took any blood from the snack stash, barely had fangs, was pale but that was the only sign he wasnt human.

Langdon could smell that he wasnt human. Hed watch him from a distances for any give aways. It wasnt until one day when whitake looks more out of it, hes sweating and stumbling. Langdon beats anyone else to his side as he drags him to an exam room , his wolf ears shifting to listen around them "whats going on with you-" he snaps a bit.

Whitaker fell against him "..'m just hungry.." hr mumbles and reachs to tug at langdons scrubs "just a little.. sorry.." he mumbles befire reaching to bite down.

He was barely aware of what he was doing. His dull fangs digging into the skin on langdons shoulders but wasnt able to punction it to feed- shoving langdon away "go away now- you suck" he whines.

Langdon blinks and tilts his head "what the hell was that? Were you trying to drink my bllod?" He asked and leans down to look at whitakers face

"Im sorry im just- hungry and i cant think straight- shouldnt have bitten you-" he rubs his head and tries to turns away as langdon suddenly grabs his jaw and pushes his fingers into his mouth.

"You dont have proper fangs? They are shaved down?" He rubs his finger tip on the teeth.

Whitaker looks up at him and tries to talk "hggh! Ehhg mmk!" He flushes a bit red.

Langdon pulls back quickly "shit sorry- look i can get you a blood bag if you want-" and reaches to sanitise his hands.

"No- i hate them- taste like shit- i just xcant feed properly- parents got mad when they flund out id been turned.. then had them shaved down to hide it.." he looks off "i need fresh blood when i feed- i usually try to live feed once a month.. just didnt have anyone this month.."

Langdon stares at him like he was speaking riddles "i can.. bite myself to make me bleed if you need, wolf fangs are sharp.." he mumbles "and i heal quickly.."

"Youd.. do that for me..?"

"Yeah.. only for you.."

He mutters before reaching to nip his skin on his forearm then held it out ofr whitaker. Who latched onto him and started sucking, a quick feed but he was already feeling more sound of mind. And langdon couldnt stop his tail wagging behind him as he watched whitaker.

Then they do this again every week and slowly develope a relationship, something something whitaker draining him so much he cant even get hard when they try to have sex without getting so light headed he almost faints. And whitaker whos body can actually take werewolf langdon during full moons because vampire bodys are so resilient. Yepppp

[kirsssche]

golden boys

[saintemarvel]

Power's gotta get back in the hands of the people. And we'll do it, you'll see.

(CYBERPUNK 2077)

[bluegiragi]

a good difference. (part 3 coming soon)

early access on patreon

[boschs-owl]

😎🤝🏻😎

(this sketch gave me huge anxiety)

[makai-soorai]

Boziu uwielbiam ich ;-;

Grubas Walaszek dobrze dziś nakarmił...

[lisiastq]

SO 30GB CYBERPUNK 2077 UPDATE BUT STILL NO ROMANCE WITH VIKTOR OR EL CAPITAN? Bro, I have so many ideas that I'll learn to program(It's not like I'm learning this) and make a mod for it

[lisiastq]

Bro couldnt find a Javier Escuella MLM and Had to step up😔🙏🏼

And you are welcome, I will try to post regularly because unfortunately my English barrier is getting the better of me😭💔 If not, I'll change this account to post photos from CP77 like on my other Twitter/hj. If you don't mind poor English and the level of writing from Wattpad, I invite you to stay🔥

[lisiastq]

How Do you pronounce your pronounce and how does It work?

In Polish I use them "zrobiłxm instead of zrobiłam or zrobiłem" (Translation: I did"). In English, I use all pronouns(But if you argue about using Xe/xem, for example, "Xe did something" or something like that). Want to use she/her? Use, he/him? Go ahead. (In Polish I use all pronouns the same way because xe/xem works better in writing than in pronunciation)(And so everyone uses whatever they want when writing or talking to me, so I don't limit myself because I feel good in all of them) I hope you understand(⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

[lisiastq]

Javier Escuella x Male Reader

Note: These are my first headcanons, and English isn't my first language, so I apologize. Just my night notes.

Words: 816 Tags: fluff, a bit of angst

For anyone who wants a little soft Javier for another man

☆ Javier in private is the nicest person you could ever wish for when the moonlight sets brightly or you manage to get some privacy from a tough cowboy he turns into a liquid teenager stupidly in love with his boyfriend. Fleeting kisses whenever possible, a gentle touch, whether it's a hand brushing against yours, or those thick fingers squeezing your waist while you talk to someone. Of course, he'll dismiss it, that it's just a joke.

☆ Unfortunately, in 1899, homosexuality was punishable by death, but he didn't care; if it were outed, he'd proudly admit it. There's nothing more romantic than dying with your lover by your side, yet he is a romantic. The first person he'd tell about his relationship with you would definitely be John. Those two bastards are close, so they share gossip. I'm looking for advice on how to manage a relationship, or how to cope with the whims of my "wife." I might also try to subtly ask Arthur how to be a better romantic.

☆ Even if his guitar is on fire, if you ask him not to tell anyone, he won't, or his guitar will be fed with this information. Same with the relationship. He'll ask you if he can tell John and Arthur, but he knows it's best not to tell Micah. That bastard doesn't deserve it.

☆ He writes songs for you and plays them around the campfire, knowing that only you know the message. Whenever he comes up with a new idea, he'll tell you about it, translate the lyrics, and play them around the campfire especially for you. A brief eye-to-eye contact, a subtle smile of the lovesick mutt, and he returns his gaze to the guitar so as not to confuse the notes for "mi miel".

☆ Coming back injured or sick from a raid or "trip"? Prepare yourself for an overprotective Javier Escuela like you've never seen before. This bastard will bring food to bed, play various notes to improve your mood and chase away boredom. He won't even be afraid to kiss you, what does he care about bacteria and germs when his boyfriend is suffering and deserves a kiss on the forehead, then on the nose, and finally on the lips.

☆ He'll be ashamed at first and won't intervene well when he discovers he's falling in love with you. A foolish fool is devoted to religion and thinks it's a sin for a man to love a beautiful man. Chin up, he'll love living in this sin. He'll wonder if he should take the leap, and he will. Now he's the happiest man in the world.

☆ When you choose Arthur's side, his heart will break, he understands, but seeing his love leave and not being able to say goodbye hurts even more. He'll be furious that you didn't stay with him, and later he'll regret not going with you. He'll regret being devoted to Dutch, or not forcing you to stay. After some time, he will pray for you to meet and he will be able to fix it, and if not, for health, happiness and other stupid things that a loving boy can wish for his lifelong love.

☆ Once you choose Dutch's side he will change, you will notice it, he will become distant, rough and less emotional, there will be fewer people left in the gang and the same privacy. You miss it when you remind him of it and he rejects you. You decide to leave, giving him the choice: he comes with you, or it's over. He's so stupid with his "I'm committed to Dutch" thing. You leave without him, and he'll live with the memory of not giving you a proper goodbye.

☆ What if he goes with you? He'll realize there's no point in being with Dutch? He planned to take you to Mexico, remember? Oh, you'll live on the outskirts, a wooden house decorated with plants, a small yard, and white fence. Do you know how happy he is to finally have you all to himself? He doesn't have to hide the fact that you're just a friend? He can sleep with you peacefully and not worry about anyone finding out. Every day he gets up a little earlier to make coffee for you and himself, and when you sometimes wake up in his shirt after a tender night, he kisses your forehead, slightly sore, and pulls you closer to him. And so it goes, whether it's a good night's sleep or not. This bastard loves you, and you love him more, or maybe he loves you more? No one knows. You both love each other deeply.

[lisiastq]

Always Javier Escuella x Fem!Reader never Javier Escuella x Male!Reader, Why is there so little MlM?😭 I'm headcanoning that he's bi, but his religion doesn't allow him to show it off.💔 I'll write something myself soon... Always fucking, never calm

[partypoison13]

erm.. guys..? i MIGHt have a new hyperfixation…

[whatupcherry]

i think about Valeria’s back and shoulders way to much, i want to chew on her arms.

i <3 muscular women