Cindy loved poppies, and I often thought of her and snapped a picture to send her when I walked past a cluster of the California poppies that grow here where I live. They will always make me think of her.
Cindy (@keeper0fthestars) passed away this morning after a lengthy and serious illness. Her husband shared the news directly with a few of her fandom friends and asked us to help share it more widely.
I am heartbroken to lose my sweet, funny, smart, talented-off-the-charts, passionate, and always supportive friend. Her presence was so bright and warm, I think even people who never spoke to her one-on-one here could feel it and will be touched by this loss. She was an inspiration and a role model to me and I feel so lucky to have gotten to know her and spend time with her online over the last couple years. I don’t know what more to say right now other than that I loved her and I will miss her so, so much. I wish I had sent her more flowers.
Please keep Cindy’s family in your thoughts as they grieve this devastating loss.
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Hello friends. As a lot of you have heard, our community lost one of its leading lights yesterday. Cindy, @keeper0fthestars, passed away after a long, hard-fought battle with cancer. It’s still so hard to believe our warm, kind, smart, funny, talented and endlessly encouraging friend is gone.
If you are seeing this news for the first time, I’m so sorry. Know that you are not alone in your grief and while of course we can’t fathom the loss her family is dealing with, we loved her too and our own grief is very real. Hold your friends and loved ones closer today, literally or metaphorically. I know I am, and I know I learned how from Cindy.
She touched so many of our lives here. Welcoming new fans and creators with open arms and a kind word. Encouraging fledgling writers to take the plunge. Laughing and crying with us, even when she was fighting like hell.
Some of her friends have been in touch with her family, offering support and sharing news. I know people have been looking for ways to support her family, share how much we loved Cindy, and come together to mourn this staggering loss. If you would like to be tagged in any updates, whether about sharing kind messages with them, or potentially donating to a charity in her name, please let me know and I will do my best to provide that.
I’m tagging a few people in no particular order here but feel free to share so this can reach everyone. ✨
Would you be able to give us some expert insight on which Pedro boy you think is the best kisser? Or maybe a top 3 (if applicable)?
It’s for science. 💜
Cindy! You have made my fucking month asking me this question!
I have many opinions about this. (No surprise there, I am sure.) My 'best kisser' criteria:
Sensuality
Engagement with their partner
Passion
My #1 is Oberyn Martell, without question. He is so focused on sensual pleasure and his partner's pleasure, kissing him would be a full body, full senses, full physical- and emotional- pleasure experience. Not sure I would ever be able to kiss anyone else if I had kissed Oberyn. Spoiled for life!
#2 is Javier Peña. Javier is here for a good time, not a long time, but fuck, it's a good time. His sensuousness and passion are off the charts, and he is down whenever, wherever, you need him to be. He is not as in tune with you as Oberyn would be, and sometimes it WILL be more about his needs than yours, but when he's made you come for the 3rd time, you don't mind. Javier uses his body, not his words, and his body is aching and screaming for you. His kisses do the translation work. Also, he bites. 🥵
#3: Francisco Morales. We don't see him kiss anyone, but we see him with high emotional intelligence towards his friends and the situations they are in, and I believe that would translate into emotional intelligence about his partner's needs, and he would be very much about making sure you are both enjoying yourselves, and in tune with each others' pleasure. Just...sigh. It would be so good.
Honorable mention:
Marcus Pike. He's just so damn sweet and cute and earnest. He'd make you feel treasured and safe and beloved, and that passion for you would be sustained, not just in the moment; anyone can be passionate for 20 minutes, but for Marcus, it's 24/7, and he expresses himself physically but gently, with your consent. You'll never want for either sweet or passionate kisses with Marcus.
Thank you, Cindy!! I loved thinking through this. What about you??
Many of you have already heard that we’ve lost our beloved @keeper0fthestars. I knew this day was coming, but that just never makes it hurt any less, does it?
Cindy was one of my first friends when I joined Tumblr seven years ago (she was peonies-and-poppies then, and I never see either of those flowers without thinking of her). From the moment I met her, I’ve looked up to her as a friend, writer, wife, mother, and human being. She had an incredible gift with words and an understated, effortless coolness that I always admired and could only aspire to. Her kindness, humor, grace, and generosity of spirit were unmatched, even when she was dealing with the worst of her diagnosis. Any words I’ve got feel so inadequate to describe how much she meant to me, but her friendship is one of the best gifts this site ever gave me and I’m so, so grateful that I was lucky enough to have existed at the same time she did.
I realized I’ve never been on Tumblr without Cindy, and now I don’t really know how.
Rest easy, my friend, and know how deeply loved and missed you are. ❤️
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Me looking at your Marcus M + phone sex 👀👀👀👀 if you have a spare crumb for us pretty please 😍
👀👀👀
Basic premise: you tell Marcus you've never had a partner who's really gotten into phone sex and been creative with it. He's quiet, considering, and the idea seems forgotten until he's away at a work conference and calls you.
I don't have anything written out for it yet other than some short thots, but just know he's going to be incredibly vocal and descriptive and full of praise.
"Put your phone up to that wet little pussy of yours, I need to hear it."
You oblige and he moans openly through the crackle of the receiver, almost like he's there looking between your legs and your toes curl at the filth in his voice.
If it hasn’t already been spoken for: 2. ‘Come back to me.’
- with any character of your choice -
Hello, @keeper0fthestars! I chose Javi for this one. Hope you enjoy!
Distant Conversations on Repeat
Words: 873
“Come back to me.” - Javier Peña x Reader
Set post-Narcos S3
..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..
Your apartment feels empty each Saturday night.
Like it’s void of something—a presence, a figure, a person with a soft, deep voice and warm eyes hidden behind hardness.
The television releases quiet sounds and voices in the background. The news is nearly mundane these days with no more than a few minutes spent on the drug war that had overwhelmed the channel for years. There’s no more Escobar, no more Herrera, no more Rodriguez brothers.
And with that, well, there’s no more Javi—in Laredo, at least.
The light of the Laredo moon streams through the window, the apartment cloaked in darkness otherwise. In another life, Javi would be sitting across from you, never having left for Colombia. The lights would be on, and a meal prepared with the combined love of two friends would be sprawled out between the two of you.
Sure, sometimes there would be a drunken kiss in preparation for a drunken fuck, but at the end of the day, Saturday nights are just comfort, just company—until recently.
“Hey, Javi,” you would now say softly every week or two. The two words would be said into the cold plastic of a telephone, meant for someone thousands of miles away. “Where are you now?”
Hanoi, Phnom Penh, Bangkok.
The flurry of places always dizzy you. He’d set out into the world with no more than a single phone call to those he was closest to, not even as a question, only as a simple act of informing.
Jakarta, Colombo, Agra.
“You’ve got me thinking you’re gonna stay out there forever, Javi.”
The repeated words of past distant conversations echo in your head as you make yourself a cup of tea, the hardwood floors cold on your feet.
Aleppo, Amman, Cairo.
Settling on the couch, you change it from the news to some other television show that happens to be on, none of the words floating through the air even remotely reaching you.
“How are things back home?” he’d ask during every call. A courtesy, not a genuine query.
“Fine.” Same answer each time.
Midnight turns as you glance at the clock on the wall. With this new hour, this would be Javi’s sixth month away.
You understand. Of course you do.
You can’t imagine what it must be like to be haunted by the bodies, blood, and violence of Colombia. To only be able find solace in the most unfamiliar of cities on the other side of the globe.
What it must be like to come home to the States and simply be reminded that this is the country that had sent him there in the first place. That this is the government that had pulled and influenced so many strings down there.
But in all honesty…you just want him to come back.
..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..
“Hey, Javi.” Your fingers are delicately wrapped around the phone’s handle, bracing yourself against the wall.
“Querida,” he greets. It’s as if there’s a smile in his tone, one you haven’t heard in years.
“Still in Cairo?”
“Alexandria now.”
You shake your head, a smile on your lips even as you sink to the floor in dejection. “Your…your father misses you,” you say hesitantly. And so do I. Your palms press into the floor, grounding yourself. “I saw him last week.”
“I’ll call him later,” Javier responds, and if there had been a happiness to his voice in the first place, it’s gone now, clouded by guilt that he poorly keeps hidden.
Silence passes. A silence in which you hope he’ll mention something of returning or even considering such a thing.
Perhaps if it’d been another day, you’d feel bad for spoiling his mood. But as the silence drags on, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore.
“You’ve gotta come home at some point,” you finally bite out, a desperation peeking through. “You can’t run forever, Javi.”
He shifts uncomfortably on the other end of the line.
You’ve finally said it, the words that had been lurking behind every conversation, veiled in superficial conversations on the things he’d done and seen overseas.
“Your father really does miss you…y’know,” you continue, a new bitterness to your voice that has the potential to injure him. “You scared him when you were down in Colombia. He missed you then, and he misses you now.”
You scared me when you were down in Colombia. I missed you then, and I miss you now.
“Cariño, I…”
His words trail off, and it seems as if nothing is planned to follow.
“Javi?” you finally ask, wondering if he’s even still on the line.
“I will come back…eventually.” He lets out a sigh, perhaps burying his face in his hands like he always does. “Of course I will.”
“And when will that be?”
A thud sounds—him letting his head fall back against a wall. “I’ll call you again next week, okay?”
“Jav—“ The beginnings of his name die on your lips as he hangs up.
A breath of pure frustration and hatred leaves you as you rest your forehead on your knees, repeating five words over and over in your head like a mantra, syllables to keep you sane, sounds to stop tears from slipping out.
