needafantasyforthis

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I thought that the 2 chapter is ready to be posted on AO3 but then I decided to add more colors….

@ficwip word is ‘Plan’

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They came to their favorite pub down the street behind the office, half an hour before closing. They never came here that late.

“Two pints of anything, please, we don’t really care,” ordered River.

“Tough day?” asked a young woman behind the bar.

“An old rat in a trash bin has much more interesting life and perspective plans for the future,” said Louisa.

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Taking a shower is so underrated. Best ideas always come into a head while you’re taking a shower. I just can imagine how much time a real writers spend there

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characters apologizing for things they have no control over. mumbling sorry while losing consciousness. feeling ashamed of a bleeding wound. embarrassed when an infection sets in. deep seated feverish guilt when they need to be carried, when their legs won't keep them upright anymore and they lean heavy on a friend, slurring apologies..........

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Alright! Could wait until I finish it

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Couldn’t resist… leave this little snippet for the fic I’m gonna finish in a few days

———

“Standish. Come back to Slough House,” said the unkempt figure that looked like Lamb from the darkest corner of her flat when she silently closed the bedroom door with River sleeping behind it and came to the living room.

“Oh, come on, Jackson, you’re still here,” Catherine rolled her eyes and continued putting things she took out back on its places, not glancing at Lamb like he wasn’t there. “Be silent, River’s sleeping.”

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That sweet moment when you’ve been stagnating with writing for nearly a month, having no idea how to continue and finally you can’t stop writing!!!!! Jesus Christ thank you!

I’ll finish the whole (another stupid) story and post all the chapters on AO3. Don’t wanna torture you, just let you know there’s Lamb and Catherine take care of River at Catherine’s home. Meow :3

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JACK LOWDEN in “The Gold” Season 2

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I wanted to add to this fic River singing alone in his car but didn’t know what songs would suit him.

AND THEN THIS HAPPENED. I fucking love this!!! :D easter egg to Saoirse. (River’s a bit drunk here)

———

An hour and a half later they said goodbye to each other, sat in their cars and headed for home.

River was driving slowly, he loved enjoying late evenings in London, almost nights, when there’s no one outside, just a few cars and a couple of drunk people. He felt calmness for the first time in months.

“…Psycho killer, Qu’est-ce que c’est? Fa, fa, fa, fa— what the f—,” he abruptly applied the brakes, stopped next to a pub he was passing by and muffled the radio.

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OKAY BUT LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING ME

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and finally we got something after AGES!!! WE ARE SO BACK

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Summer finally!! That means the new season is very soon heheheheheheh

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I wonder if Slough House has a group text that is mostly just Catherine sending out reminders and Roddy sending unfunny memes/possibly selfies and the only time Lamb has ever actually used it is the few times that he’s had to call Blake’s Grave.

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Stuck with this draft but anyway I like it so far. Hope I’ll continue it soon

“…temperature-wise still reasonably mild and feeling quite humid certainly through the morning…” the silent TV broadcast interrupted the discussion of two people.

It was the early morning when Lamb came to Catherine to ask her back to Slough House.

“Come on, Standish, I know you wanna back. My office looks awful, these pricks don’t know how to work, there’s no one to buy me a bottle of whiskey. There’s a mess. Don’t be such a—” Lamb abruptly shut up when someone loudly knocked on the entrance door.

Catherine wasn’t waiting for anyone, Lamb had been here for the past 10 minutes, her neighbors are usually at work this time of the day (and she was still unemployed because of Lamb, begging her to come back), River has his own copy of keys and he usually tells her if he is about to come here.

Behind the door’s glass she could see the blurred tall but not massive man’s figure, he was leaning on the doorpost with his arm.

“Ah. That’s River,” said Catherine. He must have had no time to let her know he’s coming.

“Right— wait, why the fuck he is not in Slough House?” shouted Lamb from the kitchen but she didn’t hear him.

Sometimes River comes to help her, to ask for help or just spend some nice time here. He needed a loving family all his life, and she became his family. She appreciated this and made her best to make him feel like home.

“Hi, Cathe—” she has no time to greet his bloodied figure in response before he collapsed on her doorstep.

“River!” screamed Catherine when he fell unconscious in a front of her.

“What’s g— get off!” Lamb pushed Standish away and sat rapidly on his senile knees to check River’s pulse. It was steady and not so fast, “fucking hell, does he actually have days without any troubles?”

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Me literally right now. I wanted Lamb came to Catherine’s flat during the story so it could be more DrAmA but it was better to start a story with them… chatting (arguing) under the tv sounds….. lovely isn’t it

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He’s running, again. Not River, though

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Spent the morning with more writing for yesterday’s drabble.

Needed more Shirley in my life, so I made her suffer a little and wanted her to make River suffer. Hell yeah. *goes back to work*

The next time he woke up there were extra two persons in the room, turned to Shirley’s bed and with their backs to him. His vision was blurred but he could see Shirley’s outline, surrounded by these people in a medicine clothes. He could hear Shirley, swearing but she sounded weak and certainly couldn’t fight with them.

“Mr. Cartwright, welcome back,” one of them turned to him cause he made word-alike noises, “don’t do any sudden movements, you both are in the hospital. Do you remember anything?”

The same question. He could answer the same way - honk, but now he remembered more. His car, Shirley next to him, eating crisps and grumbling about everything, then the hit, the pain, the sirens, the saving blackness.

“Yeah— yeah, I d’ remember th’ crash,” mumbled River and wanted to observe himself as much as possible. He was afraid to find out something terrible so he just left this idea and instead of that turned his pounding head to Shirley, “how is she?”

“You both are as much fine as you could be in that case. Now rest, you’re both concussed, we’ll back later to check you again. Your friends will come tomorrow,” said the doctor and both men left the room.

Shirley was silent but he could hear her disgruntled puffing.

“Shirley?” asked River in the silence, looking at the ceiling with eyes opened. His head pulsated.

“Uh?” she answered.

“Um… how do you feel?” this sounded awkwardly but he meant it sincerely.

“Fucking fine. Better than yours,” she pointed at his right leg, “I doubt you can back to your favorite hobby - running and pushing people - that soon.”

What the hell she’s talking about?

He took the courage to look at his leg. Legs. Well, nothing is separated. But his knee, judging by the abundance of bandages, knew much better times. He was aware how knee injuries may impact on a life. Even a harmless knee injury may have serious consequences. Fuck this. Shirley’s condition is better than his and this is more important now.

“D’ya remember wha’ happened?” she asked while he was examining his body state, “I wish I could beat him up but he was so fucking dead before that. Brains on the road, you know. Don’t envy him,” she sighed with a little disgust. Her voice was hoarse.

“Christ, without details, please. The last I remember is the red car out of fucking nowhere. And us, lying in the car, surrounded by your uneaten crisps,” he didn’t want to continue the self-examination now and turned back to Shirley.

His vision slowly became not that blurred and he could clearly see her bruised left side of the face, possible stitches under a gauze on a temple, left shoulder bandaged all over her upper body. They both had emergency surgeries. She took the main impact to the left side and she was lucky to stay alive and not even much hurt. She still looked like… Shirley? And she was so fucking furious about the fact she couldn’t use her arm at all. His fault. He could have seen the red car.

“How long have we been here?” he didn’t like the silence and asked her another one question.

“Fuck do I know? It’s still the summer, though,” she shrugged with the one good shoulder, “I wanna sleep, so you shut up. You look rumpled, by the way,” she gave him another glance and shut her eyes.

“Right, ‘kay,” he answered but she pretended that didn’t hear him so he turned head back to continue staring and at the white ceiling, “…you threatened Catherine to break her arm,” he suddenly broke the silence again and suppressed the laugh.

“I’ll break yours ‘f you won’t shut the fuck up now,” she sounded sleepy now but it didn’t bother her to threaten him. They were both lying on their backs with eyes shut.

“…Lamb suggested to slap me,” he said that to himself out loud with confusion but it had woken Shirley up and made her upright, she hissed but didn’t stop - the IV in the right arm dug deeper into vein.

“What the fucking wrong with ya…” River had no time to answer her before she took the apple from the bedside table and throw it at him. She got to his ribs and that’s how he found out about another injury.

“Sorry if it hurts but could you back to sleep too? I’m surprised that you’re not tired given your fucking painful injury and tons of fucking morphine inside your veins,” she pushed the button to call the nurse to change the IV, “fucking stupid.”

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My first word game with @ficwip , it’s actually funny! I wanna expand the story now hehe

“…River, do you hear me?” familiar woman’s voice asked him.

“Uh?”

“…’f u try to tch me ‘nce ‘gain I’ll— fcking break ur ‘rm,” that was somebody’s muffled swearing speech. Like Shirley’s, but she sounded… hangovered? And more threatening than usual.

“I’ll call the nurse, Shirley is woke up too,” whispered old woman’s voice to someone. Looks like this was said to her.

“River?” the same soft and silent woman’s voice embraced his mind again.

“Oh, come on, slap him, he’s not that injured,” the only voice River could recognize without a doubt now. Why need to be slapped? Who’s injured?

“Very charming. I would let you slap him but I’m not sure if he will ever be useful after that,” the same woman’s voice, “just be patient, nurse will check him now after Shirley.”

Eyes still heavy, he can’t open even the one eye. He can’t move, the body feels like a stone. But he can make sounds. Coughing, mumbling, groaning.

“River, you hear me? It is Louisa. Shirley is fine, you are fine. You both fine,” he could feel her warm touch to his hand, “just let me know if you remember something.”

“…th’ honk,” the only thing he finally could say and went back to unconsciousness.