#also nope i do not know any spanish actually except of just a few words

[arisu-alisa-alice]

𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕠𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕨𝕒𝕞𝕡

[thomaslightwood]

“What if Paris was the first time we’d met?” || Thomastair University AU

I wrote this because 1) anxiety and 2) the idea of what would happen if Thomas and Alastair had met for the first time in Paris is killing my soul so here you go

•

Thomas closed his notebook with a sigh.

“I know you want to say it,” Thomas grounded.

Lucie looked at him with big innocent eyes. “Say what?”

Thomas rolled his eyes.

Lucie smiled at him and while they both stood up, she said with a grin, “Okay, I will say it. I told you not to drink last night. I told you.”

Thomas signed again. “Yeah, you did. In my defense, that guy was cute and I was nervous!”

“No excuses!”

“Mr. Lightwood.”

Thomas stopped on the exit and looked at the professor. “Yes, Mrs. Jahanshah?”

Sona Jahanshah handed him a list. “Your paper. I wished to give it to you yesterday but well.” You weren't here was left unsaid but they both knew what she meant.

Thomas felt ashamed. His Farsi class was his favorite and Mrs. Jahanshah was an awesome woman. Strict and rarely allowing compromises but amazing teacher. Thomas didn't want to let her down by missing her classes to get drunk. Especially on the second day of the new semester.

He hesitatingly took the paper and looked at it. A small smile appeared on his face.

“Thank you Mrs. Jahanshah,” he said. He hurried to Lucie who was waiting for him at the door.

“Well?” she raised an eyebrow.

Thomas grinned but only said, “Nothing.”

“Come on, let me see!”

“Nope.”

Lucie tried to grab it from him but she was too small compared to him. And in general. In the end she gave up but said this wasn't the end.

“One day I will read your work, Thomas Alexander Lightwood, remember my words.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said with a smile.

Together they left the university and went to the near coffee shop where they were supposed to meet with Lucie's friend, Cordelia.

Thomas was a little jealous how Lucie could find a soulmate so fast. It has never been so easy to Thomas. It will never be. Maybe he was just too awkward. Sometimes he felt like his insecurities were written all over his face.

Lucie's smile widened. “There she is. It seems her brother is also here.”

•

“I have work,” Alastair said.

“We all have,” Cordelia said.

“Okay, I have a lot of work.”

“Come on,” Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “You should take a rest from time to time. Or else your brain would explode.”

“Sure,” Alastair said sarcastically. “Tell me again, why am I here? To rest? By meeting people?”

“It's just Lucie! And one of her friends, Thomas, who is a really adorable guy. It would be fine!”

Alastair wasn't convinced but didn't say anything. Cordelia was determined to make him talk with people for some reason.

“Oh, I see Lucie. She's right there.”

Alastair followed his sister's look. He spotted her friend, Lucie Herondale, a small but lively girl. They have spoken a few times but Alastair didn't really know anything about her except the things Cordelia told him.

Next to Lucie was a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a shy smile that was laughing at something Lucie said.

Alastair felt like someone kicked him in the stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You didn't tell me your friend is so cute.”

Cordelia blinked at him and smiled playfully. “I didn't know he is your type.”

“He is now,” Alastair stated.

Cordelia couldn't help but grin.

“Fuck,” Alastair said again looking at Thomas.

•

Thomas and Lucie sat on the table with Cordelia and Alastair. He was introduced to the Cordelia's brother and Thomas got worried he'd do something stupid and would make fool of himself in front of the beautiful guy next to him and-

Thomas forced himself not to space out too much but to listen to what the rest were talking about. He did his best to join the conversation but it wasn't easy to concentrate.

At some point Alastair said he's going to the bathroom and Cordelia went to ask for more coffee. Thomas breathed out and turned to Lucie.

“Why didn't you tell me your friend's brother is so cute? You know I don't know how to act around cute guys!”

“You are doing just fine,” Lucie said, trying to calm him down.

“Well, I was drowning in anxiety. But... I think it was sort of... the normal anxiety?”

“You mean...”

At this moment Cordelia returned to the table and Lucie didn't finish her sentence. Thomas was grateful. He was diagnosed with social anxiety and didn't feel comfortable talking about it in front of strangers. Only a few close to him people knew and Thomas did not want too many people to find out about it. It made him, well, anxious.

When Alastair got back he said he should hurry up for his next lecture and said goodbye. Thomas was a little disappointed.

Cordelia, Lucie and he had almost an hour until their next class so they remained in the cafe. Thomas wanted to know more about Alastair Carstairs but he thought asking Cordelia may look creepy and out of place. He may ask Lucie to do it. Or he himself to ask. Some day.

•

Thomas was nervous. It was his first time in a new class where he didn't know anyone (he didn't know many people in the university as a whole but still).

As he entered the room he tried to calm down. Took a deep breath. His anxiety was still there but after Thomas took his seat he felt like he wouldn't get an anxiety attack in front of the whole class and will survive this. Probably.

He prepared to take notes, took out a few pens (just in case) and tried to breath normally. He reminded himself no one was paying attention to him. There were a lot of people in the room, he was just another guy in it. It was going to be fine.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

Thomas turned to the person talking to him and blinked. Alastair Carstrais.

“Sure,” Thomas said after a second.

Alastair smiled a little and Thomas couldn't help it - he returned the smile.

“The room is just so full. I was worried there weren't any left seats.”

The room was indeed full. Thomas was happy he got here early so he could sit at a place he liked.

“Cordelia didn't mention you like history.”

“Cordelia is awesome but I'm not very close with her,” Thomas said. “And I'm a little bit of history buff,” he admitted.

“Enough history buff to take a class for it, it seems,” Alastair said with a small smile.

Thomas laughed. “Yes, apparently.”

The professor walked into the room and it got quiet.

Thomas listened with interest to the lecture, taking detailed notes. But he was also excited because of the person sitting next to him.

•

Thomas wasn't sure how much time had passed but he knew he was hungry.

“Hey,” Thomas turned to Alastair who had a little strange expression as he said this. “Wanna, like- I mean if you're not busy, to have lunch with me? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time?”

Thomas' stomach did a flip but it was a good kind of flip, nervous and excited.

“I would be happy to have lunch together.”

Alastair smiled. It was a real, warm smile. “Okay.”

They went out of the university and Alastair said he knew a good place in the area. Thomas followed, careful to remember the way to it. He may need to come here again, hopefully.

As they sat, menus appeared in front of them almost immediately. Thomas ordered tea, Alastair - coffee until they waited for the food.

They talked about the lecture. It was about the history of the Ancient Near East. Alastair was half Persian and Thomas was fascinated to hear a few curious history facts about the Persian culture from him.

“I admit,” Alastair said. “My love of the Persian stories and songs is influenced by my mother. Sometimes she says it's her duty as a teacher to tell us, Cordelia and I, as much as she could about our heritage. Which of course has nothing to do with her profession but we don't say anything," Alastair laughed a little.

“Your mother is a teacher?” Thomas said curiously.

“Yes, for a few years now. She's a professor here.”

Thomas' eyes widened. “Wait, your mother is Sona Jahanshah?”

“The same,” Alastair said before drinking from his coffee.

“Whoa,” Thomas said with a smile. “I should have thought about it earlier. You have the same eyes.”

Alastair's eyes sparkled at this. He looked amused. “Most people would say we share the same temper not eyes.”

“This too,” Thomas laughed.

The conversation went in different directions a few times. They found out they share a great love for music. That Alastair's favorite book is The Prince by Machiavelli. Thomas in returned said his is Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ. They promised to read each other's favorite books because they haven't read it before. Thomas found out Alastair can play a piano and sing. Thomas wanted to hear him.

“What made you choose to come to France?” Thomas asked at some point.

“It's mainly because me and Cordelia wanted to study here. Paris is one of the cities where we were the happiest. So we moved here.”

Thomas wanted to ask about his father but he knew from Lucie Cordelia and Alastair's father was a sensitive topic so Thomas decides to leave it alone.

“How about you? Are you a big fan of France?”

“Not exactly,” Thomas laughed nervously. “Actually, coming to France doesn't seem very wise. My father wanted me to go study in Spain or Wales. Which would be logical because I know Spanish and Welsh. My father has connections in Spain and Lucie's father is Welsh. I started to learn French only a year ago. But...” Thomas tried his best to explained it. When he was saying it out aloud it sounded like a stupid decision but it makes sense Thomas' head. “It's about the university. The history of this city. I admire it. Lucie and I talked about it and our parents let us study here only because they know we're together.”

The waiter came to serve them the food and Thomas paused. He even didn't remember ordering a second time.

“You probably think I'm silly," Thomas said, feeling stupid.

“No, no," Alastair shook his head. “Not at all. I think I understand.”

Thomas looked at his eyes. He believed him.

“Also, you speak Spanish, Welsh and learn Farsi and French? I'm impressed.”

Thomas smiled a little shyly at that. He didn't mind compliments but coming from Alastair felt different.

The time was passing and they barely noticed. They both missed their lectures but as much as it was unusual for Thomas he barely cared. He did not regret the time spent with Alastair.

They exchanged numbers and social media. Alastair promised to send him more book recommendations. Thomas kept smiling the whole day.

•

the tree: sorry luce i can't have lunch with you today

small bean: ooooh, and why is this, little john?

the tree: i'm just not hungry

small bean: yeah yeah and i'm cinderella

small bean: are you seeing someone? someone dark haired maybe?? 👀

Thomas blushed a little and put his phone back into the pocket without answering.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Thomas followed Alastair through the exit and together left the university.

They sat in the same place as the last time. Even on the same table. Thomas liked that.

“Okay, I suggest not to miss our lecturers this time,” Alastair said.

“Agreed,” Thomas said, laughing. “I can't survive this class only on Lucie's notes.”

They talked about books. They both have read each other's favorite book now and had thoughts to share. Alastair passionately talked about one quatrains of Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ while Thomas was eating from his toast. Since he left London he has forgotten the pleasure of talking about books with someone who was as much investigated in it as Thomas.

Same as the last time the conversation went in different directions. They talked a little about themselves.

“I miss my friends and family,” Thomas admitted. “We were always together, very close to each other. It was weird at first when I came here, without them being around.”

“Tell me about them.”

With almost every other person Thomas would think they were trying to make small talk. Alastair though, Thomas knew, didn't speak things he doesn't mean.

So Thomas told him. He told him about his sisters but not much about Barbara who had passed away because he felt like this was too personal. About the Merry Thieves and a little bit about how they're families were friends.

In return Alastair told him about the cities he had traveled to and what he likes about them, which places were beautiful, the history of them. After his parents' divorce when Alastair was almost 18, he, Cordelia and Sona moved to Paris because the siblings wanted to study here.

They could talk for many more hours but an alarm sharply interrupted them. It was Alastair's phone. He shut it down.

“This is for me. My lecture starts after ten minutes.”

“Oh,” Thomas couldn't hide his disappointment. “Okay.”

“Hey, do you want... to meet tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday?” Thomas said, confused. “We don't have classes.”

“I know,” a strange look appeared on Alastair's face. Thomas in shock realized it was nervousness. “Actually, I... I’m asking you to go on a date with me.”

Thomas' heart skipped a beat. It was impossible to stop the smile on his face.

“Okay.”

•

“You're nervous.”

“I am not,” Alastair said defensively. Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Try not to freak out too much. He's just a guy.”

“A guy with a cute smile.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia laughed. “But you're cute too.”

Alastair frowned at her. “Don't you have homework?”

“I have,” she admitted. “But I also have a brother who has a date.”

Alastair sighed. “He is far from the first guy I have a date with.”

“But he's the first after you-know-who.”

Alastair shook his head. “His name is not a trigger. You can say it. And it doesn't matter. It was a long time ago.”

It wasn't too long ago and Alastair maybe wasn't too happy about his situation with Charles but Cordelia didn't need to know this.

Alastair out on his shoes and coat. The weather wasn't too chilly.

“Actually, I meant... Doesn't matter,” Cordelia said. “Just have fun, remember he is just a guy as nervous as you and don't break his heart because he's Lucie's friend and I like her.”

Alastair couldn't help it but smile. He kissed his sister's forehead and went out.

•

Thomas saw Alastair coming and tried not to look too anxious or look if his clothes were okay. 

And he tried his best not to stare at the gorgeous view Alastair was.

Alastair led them on the way to the place he had in mind. It was far from the center, in a small alley that had one beautiful fountain. As they entered the small restaurant Alastair said a few words to the staff member and she immediately led them to their table.

It wasn't what Thomas imagined. They went upstairs. This floor was definitely emptier than the first one - the tables were farther from one another, with only a couple of people on them.

Their table was on the balcony. Thomas' breath stopped when he saw the view. He barely noticed as they sat and the waiter put menus in front of them.

Paris was beautiful during the night. The city of lights. The Eiffel Tower stood gold and sparkling.

“It's beautiful,” Thomas said and turned to Alastair. He caught him staring at Thomas with a smile on his lips. 

“It really is,” Alastair said and also looked at the view before opening his menu. “I got lucky to reserve a table here. Part of which was that my mother and the owner are good friends,” Alastair laughed.

Thomas smiled and also opened his menu. “So. What do you recommend?”

Alastair carefully scanned the page he was on. “The toast is awesome. And the desserts are unique. Here is the best tiramisu in Paris.”

“You really like coffee, don't you?” Thomas said with a smile.

“Yes,” Alastair said. “I admit, I do love coffee a hella lot.”

Soon the waiter came to take their orders. After he left, Thomas said, “I'm curious about something. How did you come out? Wait, are you out to your family? Is this a sensitive topic? Oh god, I'm so-”

“It's okay,” Alastair laughed. “Do you always ask every guy such questions on the first date?” he teased.

Thomas blushed a little. “Well. Sometimes,” he cleared throat. “Anyway! Answer my question. Or don't if you don't want to.”

“I'll answer,” Alastair said, trying to hide a smile.“I came out to Cordelia first, a few years ago. Then she convinced me that coming out to Mâmân wouldn't be a disaster. And she was right. It was difficult at first. But it's mostly fine right now.”

The waiter came with their drinks - ginger beer for Thomas and black decaffeinated coffee for Alastair. 

“How about you?” Alastair asked after they were alone again. “Are you out?”

“I am kind of out to my family and friends too, yes.”

“Kind of?” Alastair arched the eyebrow.

“It's a funny story actually,” Thomas said. “At first, one of my cousins, Anna, came out as non-binary lesbian. Not long after this Matthew, one of my best friends, came out as bi. And you see, in some way they cleared the path for me. When I came out no one was even surprised. I think they kind of expected everyone to come out as gay at some point,” Thomas laughed.

He didn't mention how sickly anxious he was to come out because he was worried his parents would react bad. Or how he worried his friends and sisters won't understand. Or the irrational, freezing fear to let even one person know something so personal about him. 

They talked more about London. Alastair said he was there only once but would like to visit again. They joked that Lucie would drag Cordelia there for the first holiday that appears.

At some point they started to talk about Paris. Which museums they have visited so far. Alastair was scandalized Thomas hasn't visited the Louvre yet. They agreed they should go to one museum together some day.

It was a beautiful night, warm, with a nice breeze. They talked for long, so long they were the only ones left in the restaurant. In another time, in another life the same was happening. They were both different people, with different pasts and so different memories, unsaid words and broken hearts. But as the city of light was watching over them tonight they had this sweet memory, echoing through the centuries.

[proud-and-defiant]

Hello my dude! You asked for requests so

You got any headcanons 👀

You have made the mistake of being broad with your request and now you’re gonna get me dumping as much as possible HFJDJF

Jack

He’s Mexican! In modern AUs he’s a second generation immigrant, his mother being the first generation immigrant.

His father can’t speak Spanish and never bothered to learn, but he was taught by his mom

More often then not when he can’t think of the correct word in Spanish he’ll snap or tap on his arm, and give the Spanish word til he can think of the correct equivalent

He plays guitar. That’s it. He just plays guitar

Que the sappy love songs

Santa Fe was a lullaby sung by his mom! (Modified obviously but yeah)

✨bisexual disaster✨

In pretty much any AU he’s got the mindset of “I’m absolutely supportive of the LGBTQ+ community, except for I’m not allowed to be apart of it. Nope. No way”

This man needs to sleep, insomnia is not treating him well

He’s a very emotional artist. He draws and paints what makes him happy rather then trying to study it and make it a career (although he absolutely wouldn’t mind it, he wants to keep it fun rather then a job)

✨He owns a truck and it’s name is Betsy✨

Yes he names his vehicles

HE NEEDS A HUG

He’s very physically affectionate, thrives off of it

Anxiety, depression, ADHD

Mother Medda!!

David

Oh gosh give this boy a break please

For one, no he is not the “uwu anxious mom friend” and it always makes me irrationally angry seeing him portrayed like that HHHH

He’s not anxious, he’s calculated and logical. If there’s a low chance of something working out he’s going to speak up about it

The boy has a mouth. He’s not afraid to speak his mind if it’s the right situation.

He’s witty, won’t hesitate to call people out on their bs, and is pretty opinionated

In modern AUs he’s quick to come out, and he does so in freshman year. Hasn’t looked back since

His love language is absolutely quality time. He doesn’t need to be talking or doing something around his partner. Just being around them and being in their company is enough

He is the definition of the gifted burnt out kid. Please give this boy a break he needs one

Tall,, tall man,, very tall

In a modern AU he has piercings. I will not budge on this ever

Katherine

BOY OH BOY

KATHERINE MY BELOVED

Also a bisexual disaster

She’s been out to her father since her sophomore year!

Very opinionated, very pushy, she will not take your bs for one second

She will make you take a nap if you need it. Take care of yourself. This is a rule.

She and Davey paint their nails together, they are forever best friends

Katherine and Sarah,, you already know

Give her water, she will not remember to drink hydrate for weeks

Writing is her forte!

Honestly she’s probably a theatre kid let’s be completely honest

Albert

MY FAVORITE REDHEAD

He’s never been out to his family, and gets out the first chance he gets

He actually has a really big family! A lot of younger brothers and sisters as well as a few older brothers, and uh,, yeah they don’t get along

Ralbert supremacy (and that is all on @tarantulas4davey )

He’s autistic! He’s very heavy on masking and he wears himself out constantly because of it

Very bad sensory issues. It’s not helpful when he lives in such a big and loud household

Do not brush his hair. It will frizz

He’s not really good with his words when it comes to affection and tends to lean towards physical affection instead

Please give him a hug he needs it

Needs to keep his hands busy! More often then not he’s tapping on his arms or legs, or fidgeting with whatever he can

Car guy car guy Albert

He works miracles with any car

Jack will bring his truck to him consistently. The entire thing could be falling apart and he’d be able to fix it

He can’t stand not following through with his plans and promises. If he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it no matter what it takes

Race

BLONDE BOY!! BLONDE BOY TIME

The fact that people stereotype him as “dumb” hurts me

He’s amazing at math. He can calculate large sums in his head easily and absolutely loves it since it’s very straightforward. There’s only one specific answer that you can get, so that’s what makes it so great to him

He doesn’t really smoke even if he does have a cigar. It’s mostly for stinking purposes. He likes to fiddle with it a lot

If he doesn’t have his cigar he has to be doing something with his hands. Cards, dice, anything

He is the most physically affectionate of all the newsies. He’s always the one to start the affection, whether it’s giving them a pat on the back, chest, giving them a hug, etc

He’s the emotional support at this point

Very aggressive positivity

He’s very competitive! Loves some good competition, which is why you can constantly find him betting

He will not back down from a challenge ever, please don’t bet with him to do something stupid cause he will do it

Denny’s trips at 1 AM

[fanfoolishness]

Interview with a Fic Writer

Tagged by @novantinuum, thank you!

__

How many works do you have on AO3?

242 works. The actual fuck??? Wow, me. Of course, this does span about 9 years, so I guess that's not that insane?

What’s your total word count on AO3

549,737! But that averages out to only 2271 words per story, haha. You got me! I think I have less than 10 fics that have more than 1 chapter. I love one-shots, what can I say?

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Oh, you want to get into this? All right. We'll get into this:

The X-Files, proto-fandom, ur-fandom, first OTP ever... yeah, 15-year-old me went. WILD. Many horrible Mulder/Scully stories, and some Doggett/Scully and character study stories as well. Mostly not very good, but with occasional flashes of decent writing. Really had a difficult time writing romantic feelings between 30+ year-olds given a) I did not date in high school and b) was 17 and not an emotionally stunted FBI agent.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - not a huge volume of stories, but definitely some very angsty Spuffy and Spike tales.

Harry Potter - just one published fic (Lupin grieving Sirius), and one with Snape and Harry having a heart to heart I could never quite get right.

Then came the dark times (vet school) where I was exhausted and hard at work for a few years and I thought, horribly, I might have outgrown fandom. Thank god for...

X-Men First Class and the undying love of Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr! I'd never fallen for a slash ship before but my god I fell hard for this one and wrote my first fandom smut and my first real AU (mutants with zombies) that I never finished.

Then.... let's see...

Quantum Leap drabbles!

Two Avatar the Last Airbender fics!

Agents of SHIELD fics, mostly focused on Coulson and FitzSimmons, and super angsty.

Bioshock Infinite sads (god I love writing the sad bad dad)!

And then the juggernauts of Mass Effect (my longest fic to date with 30 chapters!) and Dragon Age, which were endlessly productive and are still productive given the variety of different protagonists you can create, different choices, and different relationships to canon characters. I'm still working on a Hawke/Varric fic in the back of my mind here.

There's one random Gravity Falls fic (wish I could have got a little more obsessed with it, or gotten into it while it aired) of Stan sads, and one tiny Avengers ficlet of a sad Tony and Peter.

There's one Wheel of Time fic! Dammit I wanted Rand and Tam to reunite so much sooner than they did.

40-odd Steven Universe fics! So many SU fics!

One random Schitt's Creek fic of David and Patrick!

And finally, The Mandalorian, with 47 fics. Phew!!!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The Invitation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin finds himself in dreams that seem realer than real, reminding him of his loss, but he begins to find a sense of hope again. A promise is kept.

2. The Outstretched Hand, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin is a man of action, but sometimes, the quiet finds its way in. Din reckons with the aftermath of the events of Chapter 14, the Tragedy. (My very first Mando fic!)

3. Not the Sentimental Type, Steven Universe. Priyanka Maheswaran has long prided herself on keeping her emotions in check. But a mother's love can only grow, and sometimes it expands to people she never anticipated. Like the Universe boy.

4. Translation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages. Some might have thought the Child had no language at all. Din Djarin and the Child grow to understand each other.

5. Full Disclosure, Steven Universe. Just as the world begins to recover from Spinel's attack, Steven starts having nightmares. The more he ignores his fears, the worse they become, until he's left with no other choice but to ask for help. (My thoughts on what would drive Steven Universe Future, and I wasn't far off.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I really try to! Even sometimes years later if I realize I've missed some. I appreciate each and every one, and have definitely made friendships through comments <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, hell... I'm too lazy to link these but if anyone wants to read them let me know or find them on my AO3!

A Stopped Clock from Bioshock Infinite has Booker DeWitt ravaged by Korsakoff's amnesia from his long-standing alcoholism. Is Columbia real or imagined? Hard to say.

The Viscount's Way shows Varric Tethras having become his parent, and a cruel, hard viscount of Kirkwall.

Songs in the Key of Red shows how Cullen fared under the dark future in Redcliffe in DAI, and they write happy endings, don't they? shows what happened to Varric. Both horribly depressing in different ways!

Two by Two, Hands of Blue shows a not unexpected end to lyrium addiction :( Poor Cullen, he got a lot of angsty developments, didn't he?

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

Never really got into crossovers or AUs. Just... meh for me!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I don't think so.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Charles/Erik, Shepard/Garrus, Shepard/Liara, Shepard/Tali, a mess of different f/f femShep drabbles, and most of my Dragon Age pairings have gotten sexytimes. On the other hand I helped start the NoRomo Mando tag for the Mandalorian to help find non-pairing Mandalorian content. Depends on the pairing and the fandom, for sure.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, thank goodness!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so! There used to be a Spanish-language wiki linking to some of my old X-Files stories XD

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but friends and I definitely will beta each others' things to help with sticky points.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ALL-TIME? Just, why? So many ships I loved in years past turned out to have pretty damn problematic elements I didn't see at the time, so it's hard to say... Mulder/Scully actually has a ton of issues, Buffy/Spike obviously has issues... so maybe Hawke/Varric (except not canon!) or Garrus/Shepard or Brosca/Alistair.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Still need to finish my Hawke/Varric fic for after Adamant! I have 3 chapters written that I haven't posted. Maybe posting them will help inspire me....

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and POV writing from different characters; I feel fantastic writing Steven and Greg, though totally at sea trying to write from Connie's POV, randomly. But I think my dialogue and emotional beats are what people tend to tune in for. When I do write romance, it's usually very sweet and silly and pulled from life. I also love writing nature scenes and settings to help establish mood. Mood and emotion and catharsis are my bread and butter, and I like my poetic prose.

What are your writing weaknesses?

What the hell is a long, well-thought-out plot? Like what even is that???? My longest fic with 30 chapters is basically "Shepard has PTSD and hangs out with her crew. They have some funerals." THAT'S IT. How the heck people actually come up with plot that ties into the lore of a fandom I genuinely have no idea and it's the biggest thing that's held me back from finishing original work. I can come up with a setting and characters and then trying to make them do stuff that's more than just talking to other characters and deepening their relationships with them... how the fuck???

I also definitely have 10-20 words that I am in constant danger of reusing like every other paragraph, LOL!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't speak any other languages so I always avoid it as much as possible. I've seen people describe sign differently in fics and picked one way to depict it that made sense to me for Grogu, but that's about it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, of course!

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Towards Another Day, the tale of how Cullen went from being a templar in Kirkwall to commander of the Inquisition, is definitely up there.

Reverberations is one of my rare multi-chaptered fics and one of my favorite for the catharsis at the end. It makes me tear up every time. 5 times Din and Grogu encounter the Dark Side, and one time they find the Light.

Either a world for the birds (Steven develops a closer relationship with his Uncle Andy, learning birdwatching along the way) or on the subject of rocks (Steven and Jasper finally reach a peace) might take the prize for favorite SU fic.

__

Tagging (if you’re super bored and would like a fun thing to do) fellow writers:

@lastwordbeforetheend, @runrundoyourstuff, @honestlyhufflepuff, @art3mys, and @fake-starwars-fan if you would like to play!

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 2)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Papi

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Summary: After a night of karaoke, Barba teaches you some Spanish, gives you some slightly patronizing advice, and follows you up to your hotel room. (Lo siento por mi español. Por favor dime si cometí algún error!)

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warning: NSFW/18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk.

For @thatesqcrush​’s kink bingo!

6,089 words

“So… Rafael Barba,” you changed the subject away from today’s trial. His failure to get a conviction had sent him into such a steep emotional spiral he cried in your arms at the bar, despite having just met you an hour ago. “That’s Spanish, right?”

The vulnerability in his eyes flattened. “Cuban,” he said, already bracing for the “but you don’t look Latino” comments, or worse, something about rafts or cigars. Instead your eyes got wide like he just ripped off a mask and revealed himself to be David Bowie.

“Cool!”

“I… guess?” There were eighty thousand Cuban-Americans living in New York, but sure.

“Hablar… I mean, hablas español?”

“Sí, lo hablo,” he answered with wry amusement, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You chewed your lip in thought before slowly saying, “Aprendí un poco de español en la escuela, y lo me gusta mucho.”

His brow raised. You actually knew more than he expected, which is to say, you could string more than two words together. “Not bad. Toda mi familia es de Cuba, así que el español es mi lengua materna. Soy el primer estadounidense.”

He spoke faster, at a natural pace, expecting you to follow, but when your eyes glazed over and you awkwardly squeaked out, “...Qué?” it became clear you did not, in fact, speak Spanish.

“Let’s stick to English,” he grimaced.

You whined in disappointment. “But that was so hot! Please? Un poco más. Dime algo en español!”

“Algo.”

An unflattering snort erupted from your nostrils, and you started giggling like a manic school girl. Barba shook his head with second-hand embarrassment, though a smile crept over his lips as you continued struggling to contain yourself, pleased at how well his bad joke had gone over.

“Come on, teach me something,” you pouted, leaning towards him, pushing your chest out. “Por favor… papi?”

He choked on his drink so hard burning whisky shot up his nose. “Ay, dios!” He pounded his chest and ordered a water. “OK, OK, bueno,” he put up his hands in defeat. “Hablaré en español. Solo para ti, mamita. Te gusta?”

“Mucho, papi.” You were taking advantage of calling him that now that you’d seen his reaction. He didn’t nearly die this time, but a red blush was sweeping up his neck under his shirt collar. Emboldened, he leaned toward you, eyes heavily lidded as he flirtatiously held your gaze.

“Tienes novio?”

“A husband? Do I look married?” you flipped your ringless left hand back and front and worried about your age.

He laughed, raising a hand to his forehead with his palm shading his eyes. “That would be esposo.”

“Oh. Right.” Your face darkened. “No, yo soy… single.”

“Estás soltera,” he prompted.

“Ah, gracias. Estoy soltera. Y tú?” you tilted your face down shyly and looked up at him through your lashes. “Tienes esposo? O novia?”

“Nope,” he popped the p, staring into the empty bottom of his scotch glass and wishing he hadn’t decided to cut himself off. The sip of water he took was boring and not numbly soothing at all. He had been single for a depressingly long time, in fact.

“Muy bien,” you smiled with delight, and he suddenly realized his years of failure at relationships were, tonight, a positive. It was the answer a very beautiful woman was hoping for. He may have been suffering from a string of humiliating losses, but winning you over reawakened his cocky self-assurance.

“Acércate.” He curled his finger to beckon you closer, and you swung onto his lap. God, you were so close. Your body fit so perfectly in his arms and you smelled like strawberry lemonade from that cocktail. Before he could help it, he was kissing you again. Softer and a little less desperate this time. A little more… something else. He just met you, but the way you made him feel cared about was stronger than he had ever felt, depressing as that was to admit. The one time he had put his whole heart into a relationship, he’d had it shattered so badly he was still picking up the pieces. Since then, he chose relationships that were mutually guarded, partners he knew he would never connect with, and who didn’t expect anything back. Barba did not open up to people. He’d never let himself cry on anyone before, except his abuelita. He must have been extremely drunk to let his guard down so much, but he pushed the realization out of mind as your fingers curled through his hair around the back of his head and pulled him deeper, your strawberry tongue slipping between his bitter lips. He wanted this. He needed it. He felt so close to you, so right—that was all that mattered.

He started whispering to you in Spanish between kisses, phrases you couldn’t understand, some that you got the gist of. He cringed a little at your attempts to reply in his first language, but kissed you more softly each time. You were trying, at least. You were trying very hard to understand a piece of him. The phrases he murmured against your lips grew progressively more filthy, which your keen ears picked up on even if you weren’t entirely sure what they meant.

“Como se dice, ‘fuck me harder’?” you asked in a low voice full of lust, fingers tightening against his scalp.

“...damelo más duro,” he said with a shudder. His cock twitched and he wondered if you’d noticed the growing erection pressed against your thigh as you sat in his lap. What you would think. But you must have noticed, and you weren’t moving to get away from him.

“Damelo duro, papi,” you purred, leaning to say it into his ear, your breath warm and tickling.

He swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. Barba, always so eloquent under pressure in court, could barely form words to express a coherent thought. You were just joking. You must have been. To you it was a foreign language, and it didn’t sound like a real request to your ears. This was just a flirty game, teaching you naughty Spanish. “Y-you are… getting into dangerous territory here,” he tried to laugh jokingly, but his throat was dry. He swallowed again.

You lowered your voice and your eyelids. “I mean it,” you whispered against the shell of his ear. To punctuate your point, you rolled your hips, deliberately grinding your inner thigh against his forming erection. He was so wildly aroused with alcohol he thought he would come right there, but its effects were also preventing him from getting completely hard yet, something he should probably have been concerned about, but wasn’t.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he said, voice strained with urgency. “I would very much like to go somewhere immediately and fuck your brains out, please. If that’s… alright with you.”

***

The streets of Midtown were as bright and crowded as they were during the day, just a little less hurried—except for two people. You held Barba’s large hand, long elegant fingers laced with yours, laughing giddily in the warm summer air as you raced toward your hotel, stopping only to desperately kiss each other, fingers in each other’s hair, reigniting the flames that pulled you together.

Barba broke away panting, his lips wet with your saliva. The fresh air had a sobering effect, and something serious occurred to him. He had been animated and outgoing all night at the bar, but he suddenly very much resembled the shrewd lawyer whose picture you had seen in a news article. You felt like you’d been called to the principal’s office under the severity of his gaze, waiting for whatever it was he had to say.

“Did you take any pictures of us together?”

“I… might have taken a few selfies,” you admitted, terrified you’d committed a heinous faux pas.

“Good,” he said. “Do you have location data enabled? You should send those to someone you trust, along with the time you left the bar, and where we’re going.”

Gears in your head turned slowly to put together an intelligible response. You opened your mouth and declared, “...whuh?”

“You’re out drinking alone, taking a stranger home!” he gripped your shoulders as if to shake you. “Do you know how many cases never get off the ground because there’s no ID, no proof the victim and assailant were ever in the same room? Those photos would establish a timeline and a suspect, and would be enough for a warrant. Do you know what I would give to have evidence like that in every case? A lot more rapists would go to jail.”

“Are you… saying you’re a rapist?” you said slowly, cocking your head.

He stiffened, mentally replaying his own words. His eyes darted to the side, up, down, and three other directions in rapid succession. “N-no… But you have no way of knowing that. You’re too trusting. No matter how charming someone seems, it’s better to be paranoid and take precautions.”

“Uh-huh. Real charming. You know, it’s creepy telling someone that right before you’re going to sleep with them. How do you say that in Spanish?”

He groaned and looked so crestfallen it impressed upon you how much horror he must deal with every day, prosecuting special victims cases in the big city. How much that weighed on him and made him see nothing but worst-case scenarios around every corner. It didn’t seem so strange now that he was single—it must be impossible to connect with anyone when you live like that.

“I just… want you to be safe,” he said quietly, eyes down. A swelling of sympathy flooded your heart, and formed a lump in your throat. Before you could think twice, you’d pulled him into your arms.

“I feel very safe with you, Rafael.” Your words drew a tiny, strangled noise from his chest, and his grip around you tightened.

The mood had shifted catastrophically, to the point that it seemed unlikely a one-night stand was in your future any longer. Barba walked slowly by your side, lost in reflective silence. Sex or no, you invited him up to your hotel room. You would never get enough of being around him, and couldn’t bear to say goodbye, even if you were only sitting up talking of somber issues late into the night.

But by the time the elevator doors closed, leaving you completely alone together for the first time, your libidos overpowered the gloom and his hands were all over your body, his mouth hot and fervent against your throat. You moaned wantonly, confident in the privacy the elevator afforded as it whisked you upward toward the eleventh floor. You slipped your hands inside his jacket, feeling his solid pectoral muscles stretching his shirt, and he cupped a hand between your legs, kneading the crotch of your pants. Even through your jeans, it sparked a fire that sizzled through your whole body. You pulled at his back, drawing more of his weight against you.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Several cleaning ladies stared unimpressed as you and Barba quickly unhanded each other, stood straighter, and tried to pretend you were dignified professionals just riding an elevator together and definitely not almost having sex in there.

They were far more used to seeing this sort of thing than you were, judging by their almost bored eye rolls, but as you passed them on your way into the hall, one of them muttered something in rapid Spanish that made the other women giggle and Barba trip over his feet, face neon red, and look down at the front of his pants which were sporting a very conspicuous tent.

“Madre de Dios,” he groaned.

Shoulders convulsing with laughter, you took his arm and led him to room, uh… You fumbled in your purse for your room key with the number written on it.

“This is my first time doing this,” you confessed as the magnetic lock clicked and the light on the door changed from red to green.

“Having sex?”

“With someone I just met. In a bar!” you teased, turning the handle.

Part of you wondered when both of you were going to wake up and realize you were acting like horny teenagers—that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you hoped you wouldn’t, at least not until morning. You weren’t nervous. If you had been introspective that night, that would have surprised you the most. The whole confident, sexy Mimi Márquez, Out Tonight act was just a character you put on for karaoke to get psyched up and out of your shell. If you had been questioning yourself, you would have wondered how a shy good girl was having a one-night stand with a handsome Manhattan lawyer wearing a suit that cost more than your mortgage and not having an anxiety attack. But you weren’t questioning yourself, and you weren’t nervous. You looked in his intelligent eyes that were as pale as the underside of a silver maple leaf or dark as a dense hemlock grove depending on the lighting, and you simply wanted him.

***

He followed you into the dark hotel room, which was disappointingly small and shoddy for how expensive it was, so you left the lights off to preserve some mystery. The city glowed through the window brighter than a full moon, anyway. Barba pulled off his suit jacket, tossing it recklessly aside as he prowled toward you. Almost immediately, he thought better of this and found the heap of designer fabric on the floor next to the sandals you had kicked off, picked it up, smoothed it out, and carefully folded it over the back of an office chair at the little desk. He removed his tie and did the same.

You grinned behind your hand. Changing tunes so quickly from ravenously horny to prim—it didn’t surprise you that a guy who dressed as sharply as he did would have his priorities on wrinkle-avoidance even in the heat of the moment. It might have rubbed you as snobbish if it wasn’t so funny.

When he returned to you, his back was to the window, so you couldn’t make out the expression on his shadowed face, but the silhouettes of his shoulders were tense and his voice sheepish as if expecting a rebuke. “Sorry. I couldn’t leave it there. It’s a Brioni and—”

You slid your fingers under the pink-striped suspenders at both shoulders, closed your fists around them, and tugged. He lurched forward, and you caught his lips with yours. Letting out a surprised moan, he closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around you, grateful you weren’t accusing him of vanity. You held firm to the elastic bands like a leash on him, pulling him closer when you wanted to deepen the contact until he was so enraptured he needed no extra encouragement to shove his tongue between your lips as they parted, his hands roaming your sides, your hair, and over the swell of your bottom, grabbing a handful.

“You really do… have the best ass… below 14th street,” he said devilishly, in between crushing his hungry mouth against yours.

Running down the length of his suspenders, your hands took a tour of his entire torso, enjoying the firm bulk of his chest, and the softness of his belly. You liked that there was something to love there. Gym rats with nothing but hard muscle were painfully dull. His stomach twitched ticklishly at your probing touch and he broke away from your lips to protest, so you continued your suspender tour all the way to the bottom, where the leather straps attached the elastic bands to his pants. His hips rocked forward, and his clothed cock pressed into your thigh. You let out a sultry breath and pushed your own hips back against him, lining him up against your clit to ignite a burning, tempting pressure between you. You couldn’t even kiss him. Your mouth hung slack, and all you could focus on was the friction of his hard cock against your aching cunt. You had to get out of these clothes.

“Bed. Now,” you huffed.

“Yeah.”

As he toed off his leather shoes, you slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and were slightly disappointed this did not immediately make his pants fall off. He climbed on top of the blanket, and you climbed onto his lap, throwing a leg over his hips.

An impressively sized hand with a vein meandering across it curled around that tempting leg, palming the tight denim stretched over your thighs. The hand rode up, found the bottom hem of your blouse and dove under it. You shivered as warm fingertips crested over your jeans and found your waiting skin.

“Are you okay with this?” he rasped, eyes flicking across your face.

“Keep going,” you nodded, the prickles of your skin screaming in protest at the thought that he might stop. His hand worked up your side, exploring new territory under your shirt. Every point of contact sent warm waves vibrating out to your most intimate parts. You lowered your mouth to his and your lips melted against his, pussy soaking through your underwear as you felt his body respond beneath you. His clever fingers found the band of your bra and inched over the fabric.

“Is this alright?” he paused his advance to check in again.

You leaned close and whispered, “I want you to touch me, papi,” darting your tongue just below his ear, and rolling your hips over his cock again. “Touch me everywhere.”

He growled, deep and throaty and thick with lust, his own hips bucking up to grind himself against yours. With your carte blanche permission given, a switch flipped inside him and he dove in, roughly palming your breasts with both hands, rolling the fat and finding your hardened nipples through your bra cups. Even through the thicker fabric, his thumbs circled and pinched the sensitive peaks hard enough that you whimpered with every sensation. Your hips were moving without your leave, desperately driving against his cock while your hands quickly worked to unbutton the front of your shirt. He had become an animal, his eyes unfocused, breathing heavy, lost in voracious need.

“S-slow down,” you tried asking, wondering if he would—if he could at this point, despite all his earlier talk of consent.

His hands were off you in an instant, and he was apologizing and asking if you were OK.

“Just testing your off switch,” you smirked as you finished the final button, and your blouse opened up. Marveling at the man beneath your legs, you unhooked the front clasp of your bra and felt his cock stir at the naked sight of you. Any lingering uncertainty was gone—you managed to score the most principled lay in all of New York sitting by himself in a karaoke bar, and you trusted him completely. “Since I already know your on switch, don’t I papi?”

He swore in Spanish, some excitingly lusty expressions you would have to take note of later.

“What was it again? Cómo se dice...” you teased, tapping your index finger against your lips in thought. You watched his pupils widen as you pinched your finger between your teeth. “Oh yeah. Damelo, papi. Damelo duro.”

Hearing those words from your perfect sensuous lips drove him wild. Grabbing your hips, he rolled you onto your back, swapping positions. His fevered mouth pressed wet kisses all over your exposed skin, heated breath dancing over your neck as his tongue flicked out to taste you. You reached down to curl your fingers into his thick, dark hair. He pushed your breasts, which had fallen to the sides, back together and ran his tongue through the cleavage. You drew in a sharp breath. “Just like that, papi,” you moaned. He took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over it until your cunt was pulsating and your breath coming out in hard, ragged whimpers, then pinched it between his teeth, drawing a yelp of pleasure mixed with pain. You yanked at his hair and your hips bucked jerkily. Your core ached with emptiness, longing to be filled by his cock. You wrapped your legs around his lower back and pulled his hips down against you to feel more of him. The strangled noises in his throat were practically feral as his clothed sex rutted up against you, valiantly striving to be inside you through your pants. His mouth sloppily devoured your breasts until they were burned raw from his stubble.

He released your nipple with a wet noise and sat up to free his straining erection from his pants. The latching mechanism didn’t seem particularly hard, but after nearly a minute of fumbling he had made very little progress, and you held up a hand and told him to stop.

He whined and gave you puppy dog eyes, but did as you asked. “Is this another test?”

“No. It’s just… those pants are not that complicated.”

His head tipped in confusion.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” You were tipsy yourself, but considering you could at least manage buttons, you had a sudden, sinking realization that he was far more incapacitated than you. He was so well-spoken and thoughtful you hadn’t noticed, but he was a lawyer—staying controlled and eloquent was his job. You might have been drunk, but he was drunk drunk. “If we have sex right now I think that would make me a predator.”

He frowned, cock still straining against the binds of his pants. “Technically, in New York state, being intoxicated does not invalidate sexual consent.”

“Don’t you lawyer this! I don’t care what’s technically legal—you are way too drunk. And I don’t want you waking up with regrets.”

His shoulders fell, because he knew you were right. It was a law he considered a glaring loophole, and he admired you for doing the right thing, but ¡maldita sea! he wished you were just a little less ethical. Deep down he knew he wouldn’t be doing this if he were in full command of himself tonight. But that was why he was so desperate to do it now. He would never let himself go again, not for a long time, and he would miss out on experiencing an intense—if ultimately not real—connection with someone. He would miss out on getting to be with you.

“Well...” you hesitated, watching the disappointment in his eyes displace what had moments ago been confidence and excitement, and tormented by your own unsatisfied ache. “I mean, we can still fool around, right?”

He laid his body down alongside you, his breath still coming in hot, shallow pants. His comforting weight settling beside you on the soft hotel mattress stirred up the coiling insistent heat between your legs. “Is this OK?” he whispered, voice heavy with lust. Blood pounded in your ears as his hand slipped under your waistband.

“Y-yeah, that’s OK,” you nodded. A compromise. It wasn’t sex. Technically.

Trapped tightly between your skin and your jeans, his fingers reached your slit, spreading it with surprising deftness to find your clit. Waves of pleasure exploded through your body as he pressed an irresistible finger to it, making your thighs spasm and lift off the mattress as you bit back a sinful cry. You were almost screaming from just one touch. The sound of throbbing blood in your ears was deafening, and your cunt throbbed in time with it to an unbearable tempo. God, you wanted him to fuck you with his cock.

He drew in a shaking breath as he observed your response, his lust-clouded eyes boring into you with a hint of the keen perceptiveness he used in court. He risked probing deeper, pushing a long digit farther into your panties, dragging it through your pussylips as you squirmed beneath him, then drew it back, dripping, to circle your clit, and smiled as you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep a neighbor-waking vocalization in check. You were soaking wet for him, and it made his erection strain jealously against the closure of his slacks. It had been too long, since he’d allowed himself time for anything other than work. It was almost unbearable having someone moan for him and not be able to fuck them. But you said no, so he focused on what you would allow him to do—on giving you the most earthshaking orgasm you’d ever experienced.

The tightness of your jeans was too restrictive, and you quickly unbuttoned them and zipped them down. “My papi’s fingers feel so good,” you groaned. “I want more of them.”

“You feel… so good,” he answered, lowering his mouth to yours for a fervent, but surprisingly tender kiss as he moved his fingertips over your swollen, stimulated cunt. He traced over your dripping entrance, and pressed in just the tip of one finger, leaving you gasping for more. He withdrew from your pants and brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes closing as he savored it. “You taste good, too,” he whispered low and gravelly, almost a growl, though not one you would describe as predatory. There was no danger lurking behind those perceptive eyes—the thrill he gave you had a different source. Your tongue darted over his, dipping into his mouth to taste yourself on his broad tongue.

“Is papi going to fuck me with those fingers?” you challenged, enjoying the way his breath hitched every time you called him that. You’d heard it in passing and knew it was something like calling him “daddy,” but you’d never expected it to have such a big effect.

He helped you pull your jeans down below the swell of you ass, not bothering to take them all the way off and interrupt your pleasure any longer. Once he had all the access he needed, he plunged his fingers into you. He observed carefully, gauging your reaction in the way the slick walls of your cunt gripped and twitched around him, and the tone and frequency of your pleading moans. When one finger wasn’t enough, he added a second, satisfied with his judgment as you cried out and arched against him, your hands gripping the blanket at the stretch. “Te gusta, mamita?” he purred, but you were too breathless to give an answer except a throaty carnal whimper.

Adapting himself to your responses, he alternated penetrating you with his fingers and teasing your clit, kissing you hot and fierce, ramping up his intensity to draw louder and louder cries, leaving a trail of wet bruises down your neck. Curling his fingers inside you, he hit a sweet spot that made your legs begin to tremble. You wailed uninhibited and raw, too overwhelmed with pleasure to try to rile him with another “papi.” He sucked your pulse point under your ear, savoring the feeling of your blood racing beneath his lips. Knowing how turned you were, how much he was affecting you was so deliciously invigorating to his ego. As easily as he could command a courtroom, he’d never had the same confidence in his body. Past lovers would say he had perfect technique, but no soul, no intuition for what a they needed—but here you were, cunt twitching on his fingers, moaning over and over for him.

Your eyes kept closing to focus on what he was doing between your thighs, but when they opened you saw how intensely he was watching you. The arousal on his face as he watched was intoxicating. You had never seen such anyone look at you with such wanton lust, and it heightened your excitement.

“Rafael… Raf—oh, fuck,” you hissed, jerking your hips up to deepen the penetration. “Keep going... deeper!”

“Dime, ‘más profundo,’” he ordered softly, but confidently.

“M-más profundo, papi.”

“Eres buena estudiante,” he praised, a smile lighting his eyes as he sank his fingers deeper with enthusiasm. You were getting close, the fire singing between your thighs blossoming outward through your entire body but always coiling tighter in your core, building an unbearable tension that threatened to break you. He rocked his hips, and the heat twisted tighter at the feeling of his iron-hard cock grinding against you.

You squeezed your hand between your two bodies, groping blindly down his stomach until you found his pants and the massive tent he was pushing into your leg. You grasped the hard outline of his cock, squeezing it and working it through his clothes. He drew a sharp breath and for a moment the rhythmic thrusting of his fingers stuttered and paused. His hemlock-green eyes were black with arousal as they examined you. Then he rocked his hips, thrusting into your palm with a low groan, and his fingers pumped into you again with renewed vigor.

“Que buena chica eres… Just like that,” he croaked. His breathing was growing ragged, he was starting to fall apart with your hand working his cock.

He adjusted his weight to free his other hand, stroking the side of your face as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. His thumb kneaded your cheeks as they smiled against his mouth and went slack with lust. His mouth wandered lower, teasing your collar bone with light nips to make you yelp and sigh, then bending to take a mouthful of breast. He withdrew his two slick fingers from the depths of your cunt and circled your clit slowly, gently—then fast and rough as he sucked at a hardened nipple, drawing a shattered gasp from your throat. You rubbed his cock frantically, trying to repay some small amount of the pleasure he was giving you. When he plunged his fingers back inside, he added a third, and you moaned at the added fullness—at being stuffed tight, almost too much for you to handle, an intense pleasure threaded through with pain.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried out, eyes rolling back as you felt your climax build, every nerve ending in your body on fire.

“Is that a good fuck, or a bad fuck?”

“Good,” you stammered, barely holding yourself together. “Don’t stop, papi, I’m almost there.” The hint of pain faded into pure bliss as you imagined it was his cock splitting you open.

His eyes gleamed wickedly as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, watching you come undone with every stroke. This horrible week, he had felt so helpless, useless. It made him doubt himself. But this—this he had control over. Your body. Your arousal. Everything that had fallen apart wasn’t his fault; it was because of circumstances outside his authority to influence. When he was given complete control, this was his effect. He could get any result he wanted, elicit any twitch of your cunt, any moan from your lips, and have you singing in ecstasy just from his fingers. Imagine if you let him fuck you, the songs he could have you singing then.

He angled his hand so his palm was rubbing against your clit as he thrust, and he could tell you were riding the edge of the precipice by the helpless mewling whimpers pouring from your lips with increased fervor, how your walls began to invite him deeper, taking more of him until he was buried three knuckles deep and you were still bucking your hips to intensify each thrust, starving for more. His own hips began rocking at a frantic pace into your hand.

“Rafael… Oh, Rafael,” you moaned. You loved the shape of his name in your mouth. It was like you weren’t even strangers, the more you said it. For him, it would have been too personal for a casual hookup most nights, but for some reason it turned him on even more than when you called him papi.

“Ven conmigo,” he urged softly, his hips stroking at a delirious pace that did not match his calm tone. You didn’t recognize what it meant, but the sound of Spanish rolling over his tongue mixed with the wet lewd noises of his fingers fucking you drove you to the edge.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna...” Your voice broke.

He ducked his head back to your chest and drew a nipple between his teeth, sucking hard just as you came over the precipice and pushing you off it with a violent shove until you wailed out loud, careening into a free-fall steeper and farther than you’d prepared for, your back arching and your walls crashing around his fingers, clenching and convulsing around them.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me.” You could hear the lawyer in his voice—controlled, assertive. Not quite a command, but your eyes fluttered open obediently. Holding eye contact while your body was being rocked by wave upon wave of fierce climax was too intimate, but he repeated his request low and soft as a tiger’s purr. Your met his gaze and held it. The look of lust on his face, his lips softly parted, lower lip quivering, renewed the strength of your orgasm and sent another shockwave coursing through you.

He kept pumping into you through your orgasm, riding out the aftershocks, until your legs were shaking and weak. The sensation of you coming on his fingers turned him on so much, he only needed to rock into your hand once more, flick his tongue over your breast, and he lost control. He was not vocal as you were as his thighs trembled with his own release, but his hips slowed, and then stopped, their desperate thrusting, and you felt a warm, wet spot soak through the front of his pants. Your gasping cries were stochastic and desperate now, overstimulated—you pushed his hand out of your underwear to stop his relentless fingers, and he rolled off of you heavily.

Laying back on the soft pile of hotel pillows, he slowed his breathing, then sucked his fingers clean one by one with a lascivious growl of pleasure. You watched him, shivering with fascination, and he glanced back at you with a piercing gaze. “I want to fuck you next time. Por favor, déjame a cogerte.”

Next time. You turned away, your cheeks burning up. You never assumed there would be a next time to this, but your heart wouldn’t stop beating at the thought.

“Next time sounds good. That was…” You turned back to praise him, but his eyes were already closed, and a light snore was emanating from his nose. “...Amazing, you lightweight.”

The dizzying effect of all the booze was catching up alarmingly quickly now that you were spent. After the strenuous effort of tugging the blanket out from under Barba so you could tuck it over him, you were completely worn out, and within a minute you were fast asleep as well, cuddled under his arm, your chests rising and falling in unison.

[x0401x]

Los Amigos

A short story from Tsujimura-sensei’s site for Henry’s birthday. Was actually published months ago, but I decided to post the translation today to celebrate the date. As always, feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases.

T/N: To the Spanish speakers reading this, I know that the lyrics of the happy birthday song aren’t quite right, but that’s how Tsujimura-sensei translated them. She’s trying, guys. She’s trying. _(:’з」∠)_

Someone from the distant past once said, “You come to know who your real friends are as you grow older”. Shimomura Haruyoshi’s actual feelings were that he didn’t want to know.

In short, he thought, this means one thing: although you meet a relatively large amount of people when you’re young, you only manage to keep in touch with a few of them after you get tossed about by time, by society and by individual people. This was nothing but a general theory, and he wished he could retort with a “that’s none of your business”.

Having left Japan and come to the remote countryside of Spain, he had but a handful of “friends” who he could keep in touch with. His days of being chased by lessons that seemed to keep on rushing and rushing no matter how fast he went were fulfilling, and though the presence of his school mates who played music with him in the same institute was stuffy, if he let himself go even just a little easy, he would be attacked by a sense of loneliness. It felt as if he were alone in the world and was doing things frantically.

“That’s why I’m really grateful to you, Enrique.”

“That aside, it would be great if you could improve your English a bit more.”

“English is hard... I’m already buried up to the neck with Spanish; my head would burst if I tried to study English too. It’d burn up, dude, burn up.”

“Ooh. That would be a problem.”

“Right? So let’s talk in Japanese and Spanish.”

“But if we do that, your English won’t improve. Just as you gave me assignments in Japanese, I gave you assignments in English. It’s okay, you can do it. I believe in you.”

“Enrique, you’re surprisingly spartan.”

“Not at all. Compared to my step-brother, I go as easy as it can get.”

“How many assignments does your step-brother give?”

“Let’s see... firstly, he would make you do a three-minute speech. After that, he would comment and make you do another speech based on it. And then comment again.”

“Oeeh. My mistake. Enrique-sama-sama. I like my curry sweet.”

“I like any kind of curry. Now, please do your best.”

Haruyoshi Shimomura fidgeted in front of the video call screen, and after hesitatingly saying, “All right, all right”, he slapped his cheeks as if he had made up his mind.

“Eh... I’m gonna do last time’s task, ‘short speech’.”

When prompted with a “go ahead” the young man began to speak.

His dream was to become a guitarist. There were many types of guitarists, but his goal was to become a guitarist who could do live concerts in Japan. He also wanted to invite his family and friends to his concerts. He would be happy if they could listen to his music and enjoy themselves.

That was it.

After saying this much, the young man’s words trailed off.

“Eh~, we still have quite a bit of time left, so for the rest, I’m going to do a ‘speech’ now,” saying so, Shimomura Haruyoshi reached his hand outside of the screen and took his guitar. And then, while playing the strings, he began to sing.

Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you I hope this year will be Good for you, Enrique Happy birthday to you

As he finished singing Cumpleaños Feliz, he put away his guitar and clapped his hands.

The blond man on the other side of the screen was bewildered. “Why...?”

“‘Why’, you ask? Today’s your birthday, ain’t it? November 9th.”

“Forgive me if I forgot, but when did I tell you that?”

The young man smiled back at the man who asked him in English as politely as usual, except a little quick. “I asked for a telephone game. When I went to that party, I wanted to ask a lot of stuff since I had gone through the trouble, but we didn’t have much time to talk in the end, right? I wanted to at least ask about your birthday.”

The one that the young man had asked about it to was not the birthday person himself, but instead an old friend of his who had organized the party, Nakata Seigi. After saying, “Wait a bit”, Nakata Seigi went to ask his employer, who prided himself in a refined beauty that resembled Mount Fuji at the break of dawn, and then quickly came back with the information.

“My bad for asking it without telling you. But I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Do you know what my relationship with that person is?”

“Eh? With Nakata’s boss? Nope, nope; you a client of his?” While saying that he should have asked how Richard knew his birthday, Shimomura Haruyoshi gave himself a forehead slap.

As Enrique smiled and said nothing but “is that so”, he once again expressed gratitude for the courteous celebration of his birthday. The Asian young man shook his head with a “no biggie, no biggie”.

“Y’know, I... I’m aware that I’ve walked a thorny road when it comes to building up relationships with other people, and it’s not like I’m gonna be in Spain forever, but even if I go back to Japan, I also don’t think I’m gonna settle there forever. Even if people say that ‘you come to know who your real friends are as you get older’, it’s just a matter of having less friends with time, isn’t it? That’s why,” Shimomura Haruyoshi laughed, “Enrique, thanks a lot. I’m grateful to you. Thanks for being my friend. When you seem to be having fun, I have fun too.”

Enrique made a completely exhausted face, then gave an embarrassed-looking, bashful smile after moment and applauded him. “That was a wonderful speech.”

“Ah, the one just now? It counted as a speech? Lucky me.”

“Haruyoshi... you are... pretty frivolous... sometimes.”

“Sorry, sorry. Wait, Enrique, when did you learn such a difficult word in Japanese?”

“I read it in a book.”

And so, Enrique began speaking in English once again. He talked about not knowing the saying “you come to know who your real friends are as you get older”, but he knew the following words.

Shimomura didn’t understand very well the proverb that he recited torrentially from memory. He was only able to catch the words “friendship”, “wine” and “milk”.

As he titled his head with a “so, in short, what do you mean?”, Enrique gave an elder-like smile and said in Spanish, “‘Friendship is like wine. Raw when new, ripened with age, the true old man’s milk and restorative cordial’ - these are the words of Thomas Jefferson, one of the presidents of the United States.”

“A brewing of friendship, huh.”

“There are no true or fake friends. Friends are just friends. They’re not an universal medicine that can solve anything, be it uncertainties towards the future, homesickness or other such things. But I believe they’re something limitlessly similar to that. Haruyoshi, please cheer up. We are music pals. I’m here with you.”

Shimomura gave a strained smile. He, who had the natural disposition of a youngest child, was fond of the sometimes fastidiously straightforward side of this man named Enrique. If anything, he was the sort of companion that made Shimomura want to follow him.

“Thanks, Enrique. I feel like I’m gonna cry. I’m counting on you from now on too.”

“Same here; please take... care of me.”

“Hehe.”

And so, the two brought the language study to a close and moved on to talking about briefing sessions for new songs like usual. “By the way, about those Yakuza-like lines used for threats that I had to teach you a while ago, why on earth did you want to know something like that, and surely you didn’t actually have to use them, right?” was a question that Shimomura Haruyoshi forgot to ask.

[unintentionalgenius]

ok @ongreenergrasses tagged me to do this and that's how I know we're made for each other bc tagging me in things is my love language

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 20, but 13 of those shouldn't count because they're Sherlock and I am not that person anymore

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? ok I had hopes that there was some way to do this besides doing, you know, math. but. it's 169,674

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  shockingly, #1 is Death and John Watson; or, Five Times John Watson Met Death and the One Time He Died at 615 kudos. If you'd asked me what was going to top this list I never in a million years would have said this one. I might have to re-read this now.

What I would have said actually comes in at #2, the (almost complete, dear g-d I'm so close) Come then, and be broken at 376 kudos.

#3 my beloved, my eldest daughter of a fic, Put Away Childish Things at 223.

#4 is astoundingly another Sherlock fic, this one creatively titled Five Times John Woke Up to Sherlock and One Time He Didn't (it's not bullying if it's past me I'm making fun of, right?).

#5 is a tie, with 60 kudos each, but they're part of the same series: A Great Man and Something Like Beginning, from my Sherlock kidfic (and incidentally how i met Hayls in the first place!).

I'm really committed to preserving my ~journey~ as a writer, but the outsized prevalence of Sherlock fic on my profile is making me question that decision. I feel like it's false advertising for who I am as a person now. 😅

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! It might not be in a timely fashion, and honestly sometimes I feel weird about it, but I do go through and answer a few at a time when I have a few minutes.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I refuse to re-read the Sherlock fic just to confirm, but I think Childish Things wins by a landslide anyway. Fic where John or Sherlock died was a dime a dozen back in the day whereas "[a genderswapped] stiles helps peter kill her best friend" is still a very particular, unique twist of the knife.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? this is probably going to be that Sherlock kidfic verse!

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? I absolutely do not write crossovers. No offense to anyone who does, but I simply do not understand the appeal.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? It was less about the fic and more about the fact that I pointed out 911 has some copaganda elements via a fic's tags, but yes.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? I now, as of literally the most recent chapter of the most recent work I posted, have to admit that I do technically write smut. It's super cerebral, feely smut, but you do read two people having sex, so like. guilty.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think I have written any fics worth stealing but if it's happened I don't know about it

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope! I have co-written things in Real Life and I honestly don't think I have anyone that I would want to write fic with like that. HOWEVER I do have a beloved sounding board in @ragequilt

13. What’s your all time favorite ship? i literally cannot answer this, there is no way I can say decisively

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I had this fic from when the first of the new star wars movies came out where everyone thinks poe is dead, so finn has to become a person on his own, essentially, rather than being taught/hand-held by poe which I felt like I was seeing a lot in fic. The whole thing was epistolary, a diary that finn's therapist had him start keeping, which he then started writing to Poe. That's pretty firmly abandoned at this point, but it still haunts me and I wish I had finished it.

15. What are your writing strengths? Hayls once told me I'm really good at dialogue, and I actually think that's true. I'm also pretty good at atmosphere, I think, though no one has ever said exactly that. I do think I'm good at characterization, and that for me is really tied to how I do dialogue. I would honestly accept any commentary anyone wants to offer on the subject, though

16. What are your writing weaknesses? PLOT. not like, emotional arcs or a character's journey or whatever but. the ticky little nuts and bolts of how we get from a to z, especially when it requires a tight plot of external action. I always think about myself as (to quote @ragequilt here) someone who writes hurt/comfort, not casefic, and this is why. I'm rarely interested in writing the finer details of a mystery or an extravagant plot full of courtly intrigue. I'm probably bad at other things, too, but this is the one that stands out like a glaring neon sign to me.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I think in almost every case it's not necessary UNLESS it's being done for effect - that is, if I intentionally want the reader not to know what's said. Otherwise, I'm just going to put the switch to french/spanish/hebrew/arabic/mandarin in the narration. One exception to this for me, which is really just a sub-clause under the "only for effect" rule, is when I'm writing canonically bilingual characters who would employ words or phrases in both their languages in the same sentence. Some of this is characterization - Eddie Diaz speaks Spanish or Spanglish around his family; someone writing me wouldn't be writing me properly if they didn't write the Hebrew/Yiddish/English patois that I speak in Jewish spaces. I don't want my writing to read like the over-translated subtitles you sometimes see where loan words are translated, thereby rendering the subtitles actually less intelligible. It's a delicate balance and I wouldn't guarantee I get it write all the time, especially when it comes to not othering a character I'm writing. (also @ hayls I am one of those people who always/almost always says Hashem instead of g-d 😂 for me it's a way of making sure people don't think I'm talking about Christian God™️) You will notice, though, that I do have a tipping point implicitly delineated here - if someone is speaking another language for whole sentences, I'm just going to put that in the narration; single words or phrases will be written as spoken.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Sherlock (womp womp)

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? I've never written Destiel fic, and while at this point you might be wondering what on earth there is left to say via fic about that pairing, I have a lil thing bubbling around in my brain about bodily autonomy vs. trauma vs. helping someone not suffer from their trauma while violating whatever the brain equivalent is of bodily autonomy.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? whyyyy would you ask someone this, it's like asking someone to pick a favorite child. the answer will change tomorrow, but right now I think it's the still-WIP sequel to Childish Things, A Twisted Thing Cannot Be Made Straight. It's got fun witchy!Stiles, buckets of angst but also lots of fun pack shenanigans in flashbacks, lots of me working out my own feelings about childbirth and raising children, ambiguous relationships, belated grappling with trauma, and also a satisfyingly bloody climax. There are some scenes there that still give me chills to read, and I wrote them.

@ragequilt I want to see yours!

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

Writing Tag Game

I was tagged by @janelevy, thanks for the tag 💗💗

20 questions, Writer’s Edition:

(answers under the cut)

How many works do you have on AO3?

19!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

38,913 (holy fuck... what?)

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

on ao3 only, 10. they're marvel cinematic universe, zoey's extraordinary playlist, loki (2021), avengers - all media types, the 100 by kass morgan, knives out (2019), the 100 (tv), cloak and dagger (2018), the avengers (marvel movies), and spooksville (tv) (clearly some repeats here)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

you were all I wanted (and what I almost didn't get) (knives out)

I Really Like You (Even If You're a Pain in My Ass) (the 100)

time, curious time (gave me no compasses, gave me no signs) (loki & mcu)

the right or a clue (I wouldn’t know if I knew) (loki & avengers & mcu)

an indentation in the shape of you (your mark on me, a golden tattoo) (loki & mcu)

(i don't understand that last one considering it's less than 105 words)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i try! i get overwhelmed easily and comments can feel overwhelming for me, but i do really try! it's just a nice thing, plus i like to interact with my readers. there's only one fic where i'm just... not going to touch the comments

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

oof um... probably Vivaldi, Four Seasons: Spring and Steve Rogers, but i have a few angsty ending fics

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

probably Coffee and Cakes (But Not Coffee Cakes) or basorexia

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

not on ao3. but back when i had fanfiction.net my friend and i were gonna collaborate on a lab rats: elite force x the big bang theory fic. basically, it was that crossover, but they were also gonna crossover with other disney channel shows (ex. kickin' it, girl meets world, etc.) it never got past the first chapter kjdhsjfkg thank g.od

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

yes actually. i don't think it was for my actual fic, just the pairing it was for (zimon), but it was under my fic (and under another person's fic bc it was the same person reviewing) so it felt like hate. either way, i just laughed at it tbh

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

no. the closest thing i got with smut was in basorexia and it was pretty vague

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no, and i hope to god i never do. it seems like a nightmare to have happen and i feel awful for anyone who has

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope! though i'd be super, super honored if someone ever wanted to

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, but i'd be down to!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

oh,,, probably Romanogers. That was like... the first real marvel/mcu ship i got super into and i still super adore them. should've been canon

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

um... published wip... probably You Make Me Live Now, Honey (You’re My Best Friend). it's just something i got invested in for a while, and then i kinda burned out on it. i don't think i'm gonna update it or write anything for it again, at least not for a while. as for unpublished... literally so many, i'm not gonna bother listing any of them

What are your writing strengths?

i'm sorry to be an idiot, but i legitimately have no clue

What are your writing weaknesses?

procrastination. i have several more, but procrastination is just the biggest

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i cannot speak any languages other than english, except for a few phrases in french, spanish, hebrew, and yiddish. i've tried my hand at hebrew and yiddish in I’ve never been in those places... and Take My Hand (Wreck My Plans) is almost certainly going to have (badly google translated) irish, scottish gaelic, and hebrew appear in the future. there's already some irish in song form in it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

on ao3, zoey's extraordinary playlist. but my first actual fandom was girl meets world. it was some... dumb rucas fanfic that i think is actually still up... i really wanted my first fic to mighty med, but... i mean... still a disney show

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

oh my god, my absolute favorite fic i've ever written is I’ve never been in those places... it's just... such a deeply personal fic to me, there's so much of myself in, of my experiences, and my emotions. just... nothing tops it for me. it's the one fic i'm not going to respond to comments on, probably ever. if i had to choose a second, probably Coffee and Cakes (But Not Coffee Cakes) bc it's just so damn fluffy and despite the fact it's my first fic and horrendously outdated in canon, i honestly think it holds up pretty well.

tagging: @wannabe-etymologist, @nivuwrites, anyone else who potentially wants to do this! (no pressure!)

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Jailhouse Job

leverage 3.01

I love how they opened up s3 with all of their “codenames”/job titles

- - - - -

Hardison: Cameras are watching yesterday's footage. Locking down... which elevator?

[Elevator Shaft]

Parker: Huh? What? Oh, um, um, yes, I-I'm a go for elevator one.

[Courthouse Hallway]

Hardison: Were you asleep?

[Elevator Shaft]

Parker: It's very peaceful up here. Besides, I sleep better upside down.

(Parker is wearing her rigs, hanging upside down, elevator rises)

I adore her, okay + SHE SLEEPS BETTER UPSIDE DOWN ??? !!!

- - - - -

(Nate walks into the elevator with two men, one armed, the other the one whose gun Sophie stole. Parker jumps on the top of the elevator, opens it, and tasers both men before picking the lock on Nate’s cuffs)

Nate: You know, you could have just taken the keys off the guy's belt.

Parker: Eh, this is faster.

parker LOVES tasering people + it’s faster for her to pick a lock than to look for keys

- - - - -

(Hardison is walking along the sidewalk checking his phone, setting off car alarms)

Guard: What the hell?

(the guards at the door go to check, and Eliot disarms them, knocking one into traffic. Sophie pulls up in a car and just as Nate and Parker exit the building)

eliot’s F A C E when he accidentally makes the guy get hit by a car LMFAO

- - - - -

when it goes from “nate’s apartment” to “leverage hq”

- - - - -

Eliot: Spanish soap opera.

Hardison: Oh, yeah. Check it out, man. Look, it turns out Pepe's twin brother Peppi is actually Guadalupe's baby's daddy.

Eliot: Seriously?

headcanon: hardison and eliot were watching it earlier and eliot says “really” because god spanish soap operas are so dramatic

- - - - -

(Parker comes in with a bag over her shoulder)

Eliot: He doesn’t want to do it.

Parker: Oh, but I love jumping on elevators.

Hardison: I know.

Parker: This is my special elevator rig he got me for Christmas

we LOVE to see that nate (and sophie ?) get their children presents for christmas

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, look, Nate, you took the fall for us, so...

Hardison: After you lied to us. He's a liar.

Eliot: You took the fall for us. You went to jail so we wouldn't have to. We get that, so we're square. But now you got to let us get you out of prison.

Parker: But if we're gonna do that...

Hardison: And not all of us are convinced that we should.

Parker: Then we have to hit you at your next hearing. That prison's escape-proof.

Nate: Guys, no.

hardison is salty but eliot forgives him for the most part

+

I love it when the ot3 sits together

(also I take note when they’re in the same frame in these posts in case I (or anyone else) wants to reference when they are together for gif and or fanvid purposes)

- - - - -

Nate: I committed a crime, I got caught, and now I am gonna serve my time.

Sophie: Nate, what kind of world would it be if everybody that committed a silly little crime went to prison, huh? Complete madness. (Parker scoffs, Hardison makes an incredulous gesture with his hands)

- - - - -

Hardison: Okay, you know... You know what? Fine, Nate.

[Leverage HQ]

Hardison: We're still out here. We're doing the job. We help people nobody else helps. That's important. You want to stay around and miss out just because you got to figure out your guilty conscience, that's your loss.

Nate: Yeah, Hardison, I wa...

(Hardison severs the connection)

- - - - -

Worth: I am not a warden. I am CEO of National Prison Properties. I built this company, five prisons, from the ground up.

(The Italian laughs and lights a lighter)

Italian: Impressive. (lights a cigarette) You know what they say... That Rome was not built in a single day. But it burned in one. (blows out the lighter)

BADASS

- - - - -

(Billy pushes a cart of books through the room)

Billy (to Nate): Hey.

Nate: Hey.

Billy: Seamus Heaney. That Irish guy you asked for. (hands him a book)

Nate: Oh, excellent. Wow, thanks... Billy, right?

Billy: Uh, yeah.

Nate: Well, thank you. This could not have been easy to find.

Billy: Well, you seemed pretty down. And we got to stand up for each other, right?

Nate: Yeah. You're all right, Billy.

Billy: Yeah. Wish the judge thought so. (pushes cart away)

Nate: Yeah, I appreciate it

- - - - -

(Nate watches as Billy leaves the room, followed by some tough looking inmates)

Nate: I think something's happening.

Bellows: Thanks for your input. You can move on now.

(Nate follows them out of the common area)

prisons are the fucking worst but PRIVATE PRISONS are double that and john rogers agrees and that’s yet another reason why I love him

- - - - -

hardison tried taking up making a model helicopter in his spare time. cute

+ hardison likes to use the word hinky

- - - - -

Nate (puts hand on Billy’s shoulder): I'm sorry.

Billy: For what?

(Nate stabs Billy in the side)

Billy: Oh, sh...

(Billy falls to the floor, holding his side)

Nate: Oh. Uh, Hardison, why don't you gather the team and get me background checks on the... on the warden?

Billy: You stabbed me!

Nate: Oh, come on, just... just a little. It's... it's fine

this is the same as the “lightly stabbed” meme

- - - - -

Worth: The US has the fastest growing prison population in the world. Well, it's like the real-estate boom.

(Hardison plugs a flash drive into Worth’s computer)

Worth: Except, of course, the problem with real estate... You eventually run out of land. You never run out of people to put in prison.

Hardison: Hmm. We haven't had much success with private prisons concept in England. Our investment firm has large real-estate holdings for construction of facilities.

Worth: You see, any yahoo can lay some concrete and throw up some razor wire. The profit comes in proper management.

(Hardison looks at his phone, which is accessing Worth’s computer)

Worth: For example, the big money for us is in prison labor.

Hardison: Sorry?

Worth: Goods and services made by prisoners in America. $2 billion a year. One out of every five office chairs and desks "Made in America", made by convicts. And those jobs are not going to the Chinese. Bottom's up

john rogers was calling this bullshit out in like 2010 and still NOBODY LISTENS

- - - - -

(two guards are standing outside the room Billy and Nate are in)

Billy: Man, is this really the best plan?

Nate: Listen, the infirmary's under lockdown. There's cameras on both sides of the door, extra guards because of the pharmaceuticals. It's the safest place in the prison, really

- - - - -

Eliot (to guard): Abernathy, MD.

eliot still uses this alias that he picked up for The Rashomon Job

- - - - -

Eliot: We can just... well, you know what? It's fine. Just right in here, sir. And please have a seat.

(Nate sits in the chair and Eliot lays it back)

Eliot: It's just in case the guards come in. (buckles restraints on Nate’s wrists) Restraints. Here's an infirmary manual. (turns the light on Nate’s face and picks up a drill)

Nate: That's, uh, for the... for the guards, right?

Eliot: You know what I usually do, Nate, to people that run a con on their own team? Almost get people killed 'cause they're out of control?

Nate: Are we okay, Eliot?

(Eliot puts down the drill and plugs in a flash drive, typing on the keyboard. Images come up on the monitor)

eliot is mostly over it but would he ever give up a chance to fuck with him? nope.

- - - - -

[Judge’s Office]

Sophie: Key card and checkbook.

Parker: Keys and appointment book. Ooh, and this? (holds up keys) Safe deposit box key.

Sophie: Ooh, I love a secret.

(Sophie sits down at desk while Parker gets started on the safe)

COMPETENT WOMEN

- - - - -

Hardison: Yeah. See, Rockford can't drop below 70% occupancy. If they do, they lose their state funding. No state money, they close. And they came very close two years ago.

[Nate’s Cell]

Nate: Hmm. So, private prisons are like the hotel business. They live and die on occupancy, head count. Now, Worth wasn't gonna lose $100 million in profit just 'cause he didn't have enough hard-cases to fill the prison, so he puts a few judges on the arm to send him non-violent offenders, easy prisoners to supervise.

[Leverage HQ]

Parker: Yeah, but why these people?

Eliot: Because they're citizens. 'Cause they're honest, middle-class citizens. These are the people, they don't want to cause any trouble. They can't afford a lawyer, so if some judge sends them away, well, yes, sir. They were taught to trust the courts. They believe in the system

- - - - -

[Leverage HQ]

(Parker wearing a robe standing in front of a green screen, trying to pose. At one point she does a duck face.)

Sophie: You remember what I showed you. Just try some different-different shapes and-and-and that pout that we talked about. Ohh, no, not that one. (to Hardison) I didn't show her that.

Sophie: Kind of... just, you know, just relax. Try one up, one down. Maybe... So...

(Parker continues to pose)

Sophie: Ooh, yeah. Shoot that.

(Hardison snaps photos)

Sophie: Ooh, I like that. That's gonna work.

(Sophie uses the remote to place Parker into a photo of Worth)

Sophie: Okay. Yes.

Hardison: Looks good.

Sophie: I can work with that.

(Parker drops her clothes to the floor)

Hardison: Whoa. Oh! Whoa.

Sophie: Parker!

Hardison: Why am I looking away

this scene is iconic lmfao

also hardison you’re not looking because you’re a goddamn GENTLEMAN and we love you for it

+ she takes off all her clothes and puts on a baret LMFAO

- - - - -

parker and hardison smiling at each other as they map out the prison

+

THEY CLASP HANDS HAPPILY

- - - - -

Parker: Who's Sophie?

Hardison: You remember, we're not supposed to use her real name with, uh...

Parker: Right, Nate hasn't earned it yet. Forgot. Sophie. Sophie. So-phie. So-o-o-phie. Sophie. S-s-s-sophie. Sophie

we love parker trying to act cool and normal and fumble about it. she’s baby

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, we cut that wire.

Hardison: No. No, look, once a lockdown is called, all these sensors go hot and those door bolts drop into place.

Parker: I got it! The furnace room. There's no sensors because it's too hot. They crawl straight down along the heating pipes until they reach the sewage system. Ha ha!

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Now, Parker, it's a 150 degrees in there.

[Leverage HQ]

Parker: The average human can withstand that for 27 seconds.

(Hardison and Eliot look away)

Parker: What? Come on

the ot3 is trying your honor

also parker is adorable playing with the model helicopter remote while laying down on the table

- - - - -

Worth: Then fire them. What's the use of being non-union if I can't fire people?

GROSS

- - - - -

Nate: Parker, please tell me you're at Hardison's new van.

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Yeah, it's really nice.

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Did you bring it?

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Wait, are we doing that now?

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Yeah, we're gonna breaking out right now.

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Yes! (gets into van)

SHES SO EXCITED + she likes the new van!!!

- - - - -

Nate: A little sloppy.

Eliot: New glasses. (takes them off and looks at them)

OKAY SO DOES HE NEED GLASSES OR NOT ???

also he did the lil flip thing with the security guard nightstick

- - - - -

Computer: Lockdown.

Nate: Okay. (pushes door open and holds up a folded piece of paper) Newspaper folded eight times can support a ton of weight. Come on.

(they head down the hall)

- - - - -

Sophie: Motion sensor. Nate.

Nate: Steam's filling up now.

[Prison Kitchen]

(Nate walks slowly toward exit)

Nate: Motion sensor beat.

[Freezer]

(Nate enters and grabs a plastic bag, draping it around him)

[Leverage HQ]

Sophie: Breathe.

[Prison Mechanical Room]

(Nate pushes out a grate and enters the room, the bag covered in ice)

Nate: And heat sensor cleared. Last stop.

(throws off bag and exits the room)

- - - - -

parker was having so much fun with the model helicopter I love it

- - - - -

Hardison: You, yeah. Ha. See, I like this. I like when we pretend to kiss.

Parker: "Pretend"?

Hardison: Heeeey

- - - - -

Nate: What about my team?

Italian: They lead dangerous lives. Thieves die all the time.

Nate (steps close to her): Now that you should not have said.

Italian: I don't know. You seem highly motivated. (walks away)

- - - - -

Sophie: Damien Moreau? Are you out of your mind? Nobody touches Moreau!

Hardison: Nate, Moreau finances the Sicilians, the Russian mafia, the Colombian cartels.

Eliot: Yeah, he moves money for the North Koreans, stolen artifacts for Iraq, nuclear materials for Iran.

Hardison: Moreau is The Big Bad. He is the central bank for international crime.

Parker: N-nate, these files are CIA, FBI, Mossad, Japanese Security

poor eliot this season is gonna be Rough™ for him :(

- - - - -

Sophie: She's blackmailing us?

Nate: She's... she's... she's sort of... Yeah. Yeah.

Parker: Sucks to be on the wrong side of that, finally.

- - - - -

Eliot: We can't go straight at a guy like Moreau. They'll vaporize us.

ELIOT was the one that finally gave in and gave up some information on how to go at this. eliot. because he knows moreau. he knows how that man works. so he knows he has to be the one to start the conversation, even though he hates it with every fiber of his being.

[sephiwhore]

Ok but literally all the cyberpunk oc questions? LETS GO CHOOM!!! -thosetwistedtales

Bet you didn’t think I’d actually do it >:3 Okay well I technically didn’t, I did skip some of them cause I couldn’t think of anything, I’d already answered it, or the answer was just “no”.

Without further ado I present, All The Questions about Tess, answered under the cut!

— BASICS

full name: Tess Valere

birthday: She has no idea, and for most of her life she didn’t even know birthdays were a thing

gender and pronouns: Female, she/her

nicknames or aliases: V (obviously), her surrogate brother called her Tessa

sexuality: a big ol bisexual

ethnicity: a big ol white girl

affiliations [corporation/gang/themselves/etc]: she grew up on the streets of Heywood, so certain Valentinos would help her out now and again. She’s nowhere near loyal to them, but she’ll try to avoid killing them during jobs

what languages do they speak?: English, conversational Spanish, and she knows a handful of Japanese words

— PERSONALITY

alignment: Chaotic Good, but she dabbles in Chaotic Neutral

color(s) you associate with them: cyan and black and after Johnny comes into her life, red

theme song: Unbreakable by Fireflight

what heavenly virtue would you assign them? Humility

what deadly sin would you assign them? Wrath

what is their biggest strength? Sheer fucking perseverence, mostly fueled by spite

what is their biggest fear? Losing the people she loves, because throughout her life those have been few and far between and she’s lost a good number of them

what is their biggest weakness? Again, the people she loves

are they confident in their abilities? Oh you bet your ass she is, so confident that she stormed Arasaka Tower with nothing but her revolver and her cyberdeck

what is their opinion on cybernetics? They’re a necessary evil. Her brother dealt with cyberpsychosis so in a way she resents cybernetics, but she also knows that you won’t get far as a merc in Night City without a few implants

do they have a good sense of humor? Yes, very dry and sarcastic

how do they cry? When she cries it’s either from rage or panic, very little in between

how do they laugh? Quite subdued, usually the most you’ll get out of her is a hearty chuckle. Very rarely does she go into a full laughing fit

do they smoke? She started smoking after Johnny popped up in her head cause she felt bad for his situation (after she stopped hating him anyway) and figured she could give him this one thing. And now she smokes like a chimney.

do they drink? She’s been dealing with alcohol dependence and borderline alcoholism for half of her life

what kind of drunk are they? As she drinks more it progresses from pretty chill, then VERY affectionate, and then Fightey

do they take any drugs? She knows how she is with alcohol so she avoids drugs like the plague

— COMBAT

preferred weapon: For close/mid-range, a nice beefy revolver (Overture) or Johnny’s Malorian. Long range, a sniper rifle.

combat style [stealth/melee/brute force/etc] Depending on the environment, it’s either stealth with a silenced pistol and lots of quickhacks, a John Wick style headshots-galore shootout, or sniping from a distance

primary stats [ex: intellect] Intelligence and Reflexes

biggest weakness in combat: She sometimes forgets to watch her back, and tends to ignore injuries and see the fight through when retreating would probably be the best course of action

threaten or charm? Depends on the target, she’s great at both

lethal or non-lethal? For corpos, the more malicious gangs (Tygers, Animals, 6th Street), or anyone who has hurt innocents, full lethal. If she’s just infiltrating a warehouse full of workers, non-lethal

leave quietly or send a message? She sends a message WHILE leaving quietly

strategy or improvise? Improvise

— APPEARANCE

hair style and color [is it natural? do they change it a lot?] She has synthhair so she can change the style and color at will (I have no idea if that’s how it actually works but I say it is) but she usually sticks to come kind of short sideshave/undercut in some shade of blue.

eye color: Natural eye color is green, but she usually has black scleras with a red circle

height: I had her at 5’8 until yesterday when I realized ya know what, I want a tall girl. So she’s 6 feet.

describe their body type: Skinny, small tiddies, but still fairly curvy

describe their style: Dark colors, leather jackets, lots of boots (also Johnny’s tank top and aviators)

do they wear makeup? Very smudgey eyeliner. Her upper lip is tattooed black and she usually leaves the bottom one bare

tattoos? any significant ones? Lots of tattoos that I haven’t figured out yet, except fir a modified version of the Valentinos neck tattoo, the V being to honor her brother Ven (she took on the name V to honor him too)

scars? Random ones here and there from random gunshots, stabbings, and other work-related injuries

piercings? A bunch that I can’t remember off the top of my head

cybernetics? Gorilla arms, the charge jump ankle ones, eventually she gets synth lungs as a preventative measure cause of the whole smoking thing

— FAVORITES

favorite place in night city: The streets of Heywood because they’re home to her, despite all the awful memories growing up. After Johnny comes along, she starts to like high places, and she loves to hang out on the patio outside Kerry’s house

favorite tv show and/or movie: She loves horror movies, except ghost one cause she doesn’t believe in ghosts so she just finds them dumb

favorite vehicle. do they prefer cars or motorcycles? Vastly prefers motorcycles, she hasn’t really driven a car much since she was a teenager. Her favorite is Jackie’s Arch.

favorite food: She sees food solely as a source of fuel, she will eat whatever is easiest

favorite drink: Tequila

favorite song: Black Dog :3

favorite type of weather: She LOVES the rain (but the water kind, not the acid kind)

favorite radio station: Vexelstrom, and then Morro Rock cause Samurai :3

favorite pastime: Working out, shooting ranges, Jackie and Vik got her into occasional boxing

— RELATIONSHIPS

what are their parents like? what kind of relationship do they have with your character? She had no memory of her parents and assumes they’re both dead

do they have any other family members? what kind of relationship do they have? She has a “brother”, who she knew only as Vendetta (or V). He found her on the streets and took her in when she was 10, and raised her from then on until he “died” 12 years later. Their relationship was great, despite the fact that he was not a very nice person to everyone else but her. 

who is their closest friend? Of course Jackie, and then Kerry (and Johnny ofc)

who are their other friends if they have them? Nope! :D

what are their exes like? any significant ones? She’s never really had a serious relationship, mostly just flings and acquaintances-with-benefits

are they in a relationship? with who and how is it going? Johnny! And it’s uh. Well, ya know.

who are their enemies? She has a passionate hatred for whichever corpo makes cyberpsychosis medication, and for Max Tac cause she sees them as responsible for the loss of her brother. And of course Arasaka.

have they ever lost anyone important to them? Her brother, Jackie, Johnny

would they betray their own morals for their loved ones? Abso-fucking-lutely

have they ever sacrificed something for someone they care about? if so, what? In one of my two canons for her, she gives Johnny her body

— BACKGROUND

where did they grow up in night city? if not from night city, where are they from? The streets of Heywood, then in a shitty apartment in Heywood

how would you describe their childhood? Miserable

were they well-off, poor or somewhere in between when growing up? After Ven took her in, they did have an apartment but because he needed monthly baloperidol (cyberpsycho meds) injections, they were quite poor

what kind of education did they receive? The only real education she ever got was “how to shoot a gun”

what is the biggest lesson they learned growing up? Everything and everyone in the world is going to try its best to destroy you. Destroy it first.

what is their happiest memory? A few weeks after Ven took her in and and it finally hit her, this was real, she had a home, someone that cared for her, and she never had to go hungry again,

what is their most painful memory? Watching her brother, in the middle of a psychotic break, being gunned down. After that it would be saying goodbye to Johnny (in the canon where that happens)

have they kept any meaningful mementos from their past? One of the revolvers she owns was given to her by her brother, and all of her piercings and a couple of her tattoos were done by him so they’re mementos, in a way

is there anything they would change about their past? She would do anything to save her brother.

[fahhhhq]

Similar but Worlds Apart

Fandom: Narcos + Statesman: Golden Circle

Pairing: Reader x Javier Peña (for now)

Warning: Umm cussing? Is that a thing? Don’t we all say ‘fuck’ by now? Aren’t we all adults here? No? Well I don’t know what you’re doing reading fanfics about Pedro Pascal’s sexy ass if you’re not allowed to curse.

Words: 2.6k (is that a lot? I hope not)

INITIAL SUMMARY: Your heart aches for someone who no one has seen for weeks, but when you get new intel about their whereabouts, you’re on your way to Colombia to follow up, but you’re stunned by what you find.

You got called into your boss’s office and your stomach sank. He hadn’t given you anything to go by and you were going crazy. There was finally news. You entered his massive office, instantly smelling the musky smell of the wood of his furniture.

“We got new intel, a location,” Champ said looking at you with a hint of worry in his eyes.

You felt your stomach drop. “Where?”

“Colombia…” He sat back and stared at you intensely.

“Fuck... What the fuck would he be doing in Colombia?” You said grabbing the folder from Champ’s desk that had the intel he was talking about.

You read it over, sitting down when you saw a picture of him. There was a knot in your throat.

You missed him like crazy.

“Your flight leaves in three hours. Go get your things ready, a car will pick you up. Also, I want you to let me know immediately if you find or see anything, ok?” you shook your head and he shooed you out of his office.

You turned to leave but stopped mid-way. “Thank you for letting me go, Champ.” You said turning to him, feeling hot tears blur your eyes.

“I know what this means to you, Y/n. I know you’ll bring him home”

You smiled through the knot that not only was in your throat but in your stomach, “You can count on me.”

------------

The whole flight to Colombia you were a nervous wreck, your leg bouncing up and down until the muscles in your calf burned. This wasn’t just any “mission,” this was your life. He was your life. And there was no way you were going to let him down.

��          “A donde?” The taxi driver asked you where you wanted to go when you settled in the backseat. You gave him a paper with the address you were to stay at. You relaxed, watching the Colombian people flourish around laughing and dancing. It was carnaval season, so the streets were filled with tourists and locals in colorful clothes and music. But you couldn’t smile or be happy for them, you were cheerless. You just wanted to find him and go back home.

You arrived at your temporary apartment building and handed the taxi driver a generous tip, “Muchas gracias.” He helped you with your luggage and then he was on his way. You were grateful that you were fluent in Spanish because this is where it was going to come in handy.

It was already past midnight when you entered your new apartment. Exhaustion creeped up, but you didn't care. You arranged all the intel you had on your kitchen table, you were going to find him, even if it was the last thing you did.

After a long night of studying the city that you were in, and where he was spotted, you finally caught up on some much-needed sleep. You dreamt with him, hugging him, kissing him, inhaling his intoxicating scent. But immediately felt sad when you woke and realized that it wasn’t real. You got up, showered and went out to buy some groceries, and to know the town you were going to spend the next few days or weeks in.

After a day of scouting out the places where he was seen, you were exhausted, not physically, but mentally. You walked to a little family restaurant that was near your building, one you had passed by earlier that day. You walked into the little shack and smiled at the lady that was working as a waitress and hostess.

“Hola, nomas tu?” She asked if it was going to be just me, but in a tone that you could only describe as motherly. A tone you hadn’t heard since you were but a child.

“Si, nomas yo,” you smiled at her telling her that it was indeed just going to be you tonight and she walked you to a little homey booth in the back of the restaurant. She handed you the menu and you happily took it. Your stomach was growling at you angrily because with everything going on, you had forgotten to nourish your body and now it was lashing out. The restaurant smelled wonderful and it only made you salivate even more.

“Tomate tu tiempo, ahora vengo,” the lady said to take your time and left you so you could look over the menu. You looked over the menu once, twice, already getting frustrated that you couldn’t figure out what to eat. But your stomach felt weird, like butterflies were having a damn party in there. You knew it wasn’t just your hunger, it was something else.

You looked up from the menu, feeling like someone was watching you, but no one was. I mean, you were a damn Statesman agent, you would have caught a whiff of something if something was off, but it wasn’t. It was just you, you guessed.

But then you turned to the front of the diner and lost your breath and your stomach dropped. It was him, you had found him without actually looking for him. You were stumped. You couldn’t move. His beautiful, big brown eyes bore into you. Making you slightly moan. His jaw was perfectly square, his lips slightly pouty like you loved, the moustache that you loved perfectly fitting his beautiful face.

But it wasn’t him. This was a different man. A man that looked like him.

He looked away from you and talked to the lady that had attended you. She smiled and told him to seat himself, like if he was a regular. He walked to the booth in front of you and sat facing you. But not looking at you. You couldn’t look away. What was happening?

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Maybe you were imagining things.

Nope. No, you weren't.

You opened your eyes and he was now staring at you with a small smile. But you looked at the menu instantly. You felt your cheeks turn red, so you lifted the menu to cover your face. Who does that? You felt awkward, shy, nervous. You just wanted to eat and get the hell out of there, but you only felt angrier cause you still didn't know what to eat.

“Get the sancocho or the arepas. They’re the best in town here.” You heard a low, rough voice coming from the other side of your menu.

Please don’t be talking to me. Please don’t be talking to me!

You lowered your menu from your view and only uncovered your eyes. He had taken off his jacket. He wore a short sleeve sky-blue shirt with a few buttons open that not only accentuated his strong neck, but his olive skin. He looked damn hot.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” he said smiling, looking at his own menu and then at you.

“Uhh,” that’s the only thing that came out of your mouth.

“Que va a ser?” The lady said asked out of the blue, making you jump a little. You just hoped he hadn’t seen that.

You looked at her and then spoke, “Me da el sancocho y una coca?” You ordered what the guy suggested. What the hell right, it’s not like you were just starving and were onlu hoping that the food was as good as he said or you were going to kill a bitch.

She smiled and nodded taking your menu. She walked to the guy’s table and asked him what he too wanted, he said, “Lo mismo pero con una Modelo.” He ordered what he recommended to you, but with the exception of a beer. Now you were wondering if you should have ordered one instead of a coke, because your nerves weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

Now that the lady had taken your menu there was nothing helping you block your view. Damn it.

“You're new here,” he said taking you out of your trance.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, “Umm, yeah. Here on business.”

“Oh,” he said, bobbing his head up and down. Gosh, he was delicious. But what were you thinking, you had someone. But was it bad if he looked like your someone?

“And you?” You asked.

He smiled, “I work here.”

You looked around and waved your hand, “Here? Doesn’t seem like your style.”

He grinned and showcased his straight teeth, “No, not here here. At the embassy.” You remembered seeing the embassy when you went on a trip around town. It wasn’t far from your house, maybe half a mile away.

“Oh, ok, that’s a better fit,” you smiled.

“Is this your first time in Colombia?” He said not taking his eyes off of you while he drank his Modelo.

“Yeah,” You nodded then looked over to the lady that was about to bring you your dinner, your mouth watering. The lady placed the bowl of sancocho in front of you and you almost drooled. It smelled amazing. She then went to the guy’s table and placed his bowl in front of him.

You could feel his smoldering gaze eyeing you as you took a bite of your food. And in order to not look at him, you just closed your eyes and enjoyed the flavors of chicken and spices bursting in your mouth. You must admit, you did groan a little. And you weren't even ashamed of it.

“Its good, huh?” He said. You opened your eyes and he was smiling. So, you smiled, too.

You nodded, “I’m part Mexican, so sancocho is not really part of our culture.”

“I feel you; I wouldn’t trade my tacos and burritos for anything,” he concurred. “But this sancocho is something else.”

“We have that in common,” you said as you ate another spoonful of the succulent sancocho. “And yes, yes, it is.”

Both of you ate in comfortable silence. Each one of you glancing at each other when you came up from eating. It looked like he wanted to keep talking to you but hesitated because of how much you were enjoying your meal.

When you finished, you pushed the plate forward and leaned back. He had already finished minutes ago and was just sitting there, throwing glances at you while he drank another beer. The lady approached you and left your check on the table. You automatically grabbed money and gave it to her. You stood to leave and turned to the guy.

“Uh, thanks for the advice. I guess I’ll see you around because I’ll be coming here again,” you smiled and started to leave but before you even take a step forward, he spoke.

“You're welcome,” he said then downed his beer and stood, leaving a small wad of dollar pesos on the table. “You know it’s not safe to be walking around at this time of the night alone, right? Especially someone like you,” he motioned to your face and body.

You raised a brow, “Someone like me? What, it looks like I can’t defend myself?”

He chuckled, “By appearances, not so much. But I can be wrong. I’ve been wrong a lot of times in my life.”

“And this is one of those times,” you smiled and then turned, lifting the back of your shirt and revealing to him the gun you had hiding behind your jeans. “Never underestimate a girl with pretty makeup.”

He laughed and lifted his hands in a protective matter, “Woah, ok, point taken. Still, I’d feel better if I walked you back to your place. I promise I’m not a stalker, I just know what goes around out there at night, and it’s not good.”

You pondered his request. You didn't feel anything uneasy about him. There was something about his eyes that made you feel safe. Like his eyes did so many other times. You even felt a connection that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was because he looked so much like your guy that you wanted to trust him. And for a weird fucking reason, you did.

You took a deep breath, knowing that he was right. You didn't know the city yet and even if you could take a guy down with one hand tied behind your back, you didn't want to chance it, so you turned to him and nodded, “Fine, but if you try something, I won’t hesitate on shooting your kneecaps. Comprende, amigo?”

He grinned and nodded, leading you out into the warm balmy night. The streets were still scattered with people even if it was close to midnight.

“My name is Javier, Javier Peña,” he extended his hand.

You shake it, “Nice to meet you, Javier. I’m Y/FL/n.” You feel a surge of energy travel your body as you feel the warmth of his hand. Making you feel perplexed by the reaction your body was taking. A feeling only one other man has ever made you experience. And you could see that he had a similar reaction, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, hard.

He cleared his throat, “Do you live far from here?”

You shook your head, “No, like two blocks down south. And you?”

“Same.”

“So, what do you do at the embassy?” You ask, making small talk so the walk home isn't so awkward.

“Oh, you know…” he says casually.

You shake your head looking at him, “No, I don’t know.”

“I work for the DEA. So, if you're a drug dealer, let me know so I can take you in right now,” he smiles looking at you quizzingly.  

You laugh and roll your eyes, “Like I’d tell you now.”

He laughes, “You don’t seem like the type either way, even if you're carrying an Eagle pistol…” Javier gives you a questioningly look.

You just laugh, enjoying the witty banter being thrown between each other. It was easy.

You roll your eyes and give a small chuckle, “Ok, fine, I’ll tell you the truth, I work for a really, really secret spy organization.” You say kidding but not kidding.

He raises an eyebrow, smirking, “Oh, yeah?”

You nod, “Mhm, and our code names are based off alcoholic beverages.”

“And what’s your super-secret spy name?” Javier asks still smirking.

You shrug, “I’m obviously Agent Vino.”

He grins, “Obviously?”

“Well I can sometimes be sweet like a nice refreshing Moscato, or sometimes I can be sensual like a good pinot noir, or I can be like Chardonnay and be intense and strong,” you say confidently.

He seems surprised, “I like that. I don’t know you, but by first impressions that name fits you well. Now, what other agents are there?”

“Let me see…” You pretend to think about it, “Well there’s Agent Champagne, Agent Whiskey, Agent Tequila, Agent Ginger Ale, among others, obviously.”

He raises an eyebrow, “That’s quite the list. What do you think my name would be?”

You look at him, thinking it through, and only one name is coming to mind, but that one is already taken, which the only other option you can think of is the matching alternative, but not the same. “You’d be Agent Scotch.”

He stops a bit, looks at you with an amused look and then continues to walk beside you, “That’s one of my favorite drinks, apart from whiskey.”

You die internally, of course it is. “Im a good judge of character, what can I say?” you shrug.

“Now why would I be Agent Scotch?” He seems entertained.

Because you’re exactly like my Agent Whiskey…

You know sadness and worry is written all over your face, so you quickly discard those thoughts. “You’re very smooth, that’s for sure, but like scotch you’re also mature, and you only get better with age. And you have a bite to you that stays with a person even way after they’ve experienced you...”

He stops and looks at you with something like admiration and wonder, “You really are something.”

You stop and turn to Javier, seeing so much of your Whiskey, but seeing someone so different. Someone unique. “Yeah?”

Javier beamed, staring at you, and he wasn’t only making eye contact with you, but it was something else. Like he was penetrating you, baring you, figuring you out. Scaring you but enticing you, nonetheless. Almost making you forget why you were really in Colombia in the first place.

You were in BIG trouble…

Taggity-Tags: @shikin83 @readsalot73 @otherthingsinhead @batata-elegante​ @maryan028​ @stxriss​ @fleurdemiel145​ 

[connorandersons-blog]

To the Library

Rating: Explicit Word count: 3,576 Warnings: explicit content Ship: Markus/Connor AU: Human Chapter 2/5

-----------------------

Markus goes to the library a week later. He hadn't finished with his book, but Carl was. He had eagerly taken the book from Carl's hands, ignoring Carl's pointed looks.

 When he got there he expected Connor to be behind the desk, but he wasn't there. Markus felt his heart sink as he placed the book in the return pile.

 He might as well look around. Maybe he would find something intriguing to read. He took his time walking around, pulling out a few books to read their summaries before putting them back.

 He went to walk around the corner and jumped when he saw Connor sitting in a chair, reading a book. His feet were pulled up, and he had black full-rimmed glasses on. His curly hair fell into his face and wore a soft-looking cable knit black turtleneck.

 He looks simultaneously adorable and sexy as fuck like that. Oh fuck. He's totally fucked. He really hopes Connor is at least a little gay, and single, otherwise he knows he's going to hurt his heart. Apparently, he made some type of noise because Connor glances up from his book.

 "Markus! Did you need any help?" He asks, putting his legs back onto the ground. He had texted Connor but he wasn't sure what was appropriate to send, so he always kept it short.

 Connor grabbed a bookmark and put it in the book, which wow, was Les Misérables and it looked like it was the actual version in French.

 "You're… you were actually reading that?" He asks, walking over. Connor glances at the book, flipping it over in his hands.

"Oh, yeah. I hadn't gotten the time before, but yeah. Amanda, she made sure we were able to learn any language we want. I learned French, German, Spanish, Latin, and Russian. Oh! Also ASL." Holy fuck. He was sure his jaw was on the ground.

This man was smart enough to be literally anything he wanted, and he was here working at a library, reading a book most people didn't even attempt to read.

"That… wow. That's really impressive, Connor." Markus said, sitting down in a chair close to him.

He ducks his head again, and Markus is getting to the point where he wants to keep making him have that reaction. "Amanda taught us early so it was easy, nothing truly impressive."

Markus shakes his head. How could he not see how impressive that was? It didn't matter when he learned, he retained the information even after all these years. "Trust me, it's impressive."

"I… thank you, Markus." He says, looking at him through his lashes. Wow, his eyes were so stunning and now he really wanted to see him on his-nope! Nope, he is not thinking about that. Not in a library.

"Of course, I was wondering, do you have any books you'd recommend reading?" Connor quickly stood up and pulled Markus up too by his hand. He probably didn't even realize he was still holding his (ugh, probably sweaty) hand as he dragged him through the library. Well, dragged isn't the right word as he was doing his best to keep up, but gladly following along.

"Ok, so the first is technically not for adults, but the humor is amazing and generally flies right over kids." He says, pulling down a book- Artemis Fowl- still not letting Markus go. Apparently, he's getting more than one book as Connor leads him around, explaining some as he pulls them out.

Markus laughs as he's pulled and watches as the stack of books grow taller. It isn't actually that many books, but it's incredible how enthusiastic he is.

Once Connor seems to be done he leads them back to where he left his own book. He lets go of Markus to set the stack of books on a table, then picks up his own book. He sits down again, pulling his legs under him. "I know that's a lot, and you don't have to check them all out."

There are seven books in all and Markus is most definitely going to at least attempt to read all of them, even if it meant renewing them.

"No, this is wonderful; I look forward to reading all of them." He glances through all of them before picking up the shortest one. "I hope you don't mind if I read with you."

"No! Of course, feel free. The Artemis Fowl series has always been a favorite of mine." Connor said, flipping open his book. "Oh, I never asked, do you speak any languages other than English?"

Markus flips to the first page of the book, taking in the worn feeling of it. "Not really. I know a few things in French and a few in Latin, but that's just what I learned from Carl."

Connor smiled and nodded. "Du siehst umwerfend aus." Connor said, before quickly looking down at his book.

Oh, he really wanted to know what that meant. "I… that was German, right? What does it mean?"

"Oh, um it means to enjoy your book." Connor's face flushed and he puts his nose back into a book. He has a feeling that's not what he actually said, but he doesn't know any German to dispute it.

"Thank you, I'm sure I will." He starts reading the first page. He has to admit, it's incredibly easy to follow. The humor is dry and makes him crackle. The first time he does it, he glances up and sees Connor staring at him. They both quickly look back to their books.

He gets lost in the book and reads almost half of it before his phone rings. He jumps practically out of his skin. He fumbles for a bit before pulling his phone out. He sighs when he sees it's a message from Carl. He isn't upset that Carl messaged him, but he is that he'll have to leave.

"Ah, I need to get home, well to Carl's." He definitely considered Carl's place home more than anywhere else had been. They both stand and Markus grabs his stack of books.

"I'm not technically working, but I can still check you out," Connor says, taking the books when they get to the desk. He scrunches up his face as he types something into the computer then scans the books. "I gave you the six weeks employees get but don't tell," he fake whispers.

Markus snorts and puts a finger up to his lips. "Your secret is safe with me." He took the books and waved at Connor before leaving.

______________________________________________________________

"Markus!" Connor panted, arching his back. Markus reached out and covered Connor's mouth with his hand.

"Shh, you gotta be quiet baby, or we'll be caught." He whispered but didn't let up at all. He set a steady, but quick pace with his hips, matching the same with his hand stroking Connor's length.

They were in the back part of the library, where they hopefully wouldn't get caught. Connor was wearing the same thing from when he gave him all those books, but his glasses were skewed and his hair was completely tousled. He looked fucking amazing like this.

Connor whined into his hand, pushing back into him. He wanted to hear him so badly, but maybe once they were alone.

The sound of skin hitting skin was obscene in such a quiet place. He could smell the old books, but he couldn't focus on anything but Connor.

He leaned forward and kissed the back of Connor's neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. He wanted to absolutely wreck him; he wanted him to not be able to walk straight for a week.

"Connor, you're so beautiful. So beautiful, and all for me." He mumbled. Connor's eyes watered from so much stimulation. He could feel how close they both were. So, so fucking close.

Markus jerked awake, sitting up. His eyes were wide as he looked around his dark room, panting. He groaned and flopped back onto his bed. This wasn't the first time he had that particular dream, but each time ended the same.

He reached down and didn't bother opening his eyes as he stroked himself. He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until he came so it was better to get it over with.

He imagined Connor on his knees, looking up at him with those stunning brown eyes. "Fuck," he groaned, spilling into his hand.

Markus was supposed to go to the library today to bring back Carl's book, but this would make it so much harder (no pun intended). He didn't know how he could face Connor after thinking about him like that.

He rolls over and digs through his drawers finding his wipes. He cleans himself up, and checks his phone, squinting when the brightness is too high.

To Connor: 

I'll be there tomorrow

     [Read, 9:19 pm] 

                                                                                                        To Markus:

                                                                                                     I can't wait! ☺️

                                                                                                 [Read, 9:20 pm]

 Ugh, how could he be so cute? Even his typing was cute! It was completely unfair. What had he done to deserve this kind of torture?

He had a feeling he was at least somewhat gay, especially since Carl seemed to be trying to get them together. He probably knew more about Connor than Markus did, though he wouldn't tell him.

He checked the time and groaned again, dropping his phone on his chest. It was way too early to get up, but he doubted he'd be able to sleep again. He should at least try, though.

Before he knows it his alarm is going off and he honestly feels like crying. He hadn't gotten any more sleep, and he couldn't stop thinking about Connor.

He slowly sat up and got ready for the day. He lived with Carl so it wasn't like he had to drive to work, so he got more time in bed than he would have otherwise.

He gave Carl his medicine and breakfast before the man waved him off. Markus huffed and grabbed the book before taking the bus to the library.

It was a much warmer day than it had been in a while, and Markus basked in the sunlight. He loved raining days but there was something so comforting about the sun coming out after days of rain. It was like he could feel how alive the world was, and it just made him livelier.

He walks in and before he can even say hello Connor is up and beside him. He's wearing a sweater vest again with a white button-up, but the sleeves are rolled up, and Markus is sure he's dying. He's not wearing his glasses but his hair is mostly pushed back out of his face, except for a few curls that seemed to do whatever they want.

"Markus! How are you?" He asks, smiling widely. Markus leans over and drops the book in the return bin, but feels his heart stop when doing so brings him close to Connor. His mind flashes to the dream and he quickly leans back.

"Not too bad, didn't get much sleep last night, you?" They start their walk around the library. At some point, he'd get the next book Carl wanted, but for now, he just enjoyed Connor's company.

Connor gave a sympathetic hum, "neither did I. Today has been lovely, though. The weather is much better than before. I'm planning on taking Sumo for a walk later."

"Sumo?"

Connor's eyes light up and he bounces more as he walks. Overall he looks even more adorable. "He's Hank's dog. When I was a detective Hank was my partner, and he's basically a father to me now. Amanda never let us have pets, and I really like dogs so I go over to Hank's a lot." Ah, that did sound like Stern. She could be an exceedingly uptight woman from what he's heard.

"Sumo is Saint Bernard! He's basically a giant teddy bear, though he likes to lay completely on me." Connor says, sighing happily.

Markus chuckled and shook his head, imagining a big dog lying on Connor while he was splayed out on the ground. "He sounds adorable." So do you, he wanted to add but bit his tongue.

Connor quickly nods. "He is! I like dogs. Well, all animals honestly. I've got a fish at home, Trichogaster Laliu, or most commonly known, a Dwarf Gourami." Leave it to Connor to know the scientific name for it.

"Carl has parakeets, but I never got to have pets growing up." Well, that wasn't completely true, he did but it never lasted long.

"Oh? Were your parents strict too?" Connor asks, swaying his arms and accidentally brushing against Markus's.

Markus is so tempted to just take his hand but decides against it. He was a very tactile person, so holding hands between friends weren't uncommon for him. However, he didn't know if Connor was open to that.

"Ah, not always? I… I grew up in the foster system. Eleven foster families in all, but I aged out." He remembered the day and how much it hurt, knowing he wasn't wanted. "Carl, he found me and took me in. He paid for my college and now I take care of him." He smiled. He honestly owed his life to Carl.

Connor's eyes go wide. "Oh, I'm sorry. Caelum and I got adopted pretty quickly, but I remember how hard it had been." He wondered if they ever would have met if Connor hadn't been adopted.

Markus shrugs. Sure it had been hard but now he has the life he always dreamed about. He had someone who cared about where he was, or if he ate enough. He had his friends, and now he had a very huge crush on a very adorable man.

"It's fine, I'm happy now. Are you?" He honestly didn't mean to ask something so deep, but it just slipped out.

Connor hummed and thought for a moment. "I think I am. I loved being a detective, but I also love this," he motions around to the library. "Sometimes if Hank can't figure a case out he'll ask me. There's always room for improvement, but that's just life."

He couldn't agree more. To him, the purpose of life was to grow. If you became stagnant then the ability to become happy disappeared.

"I hope this isn't offensive… but from what I've heard about Stern, she doesn't seem the type to think being a librarian is an actual job." She was a strict woman but he knew she always just wanted the best for those she cared about.

Connor chuckles. "Yeah, but I still consult for the dpd and even sometimes the FBI if they need me. At first, she thought this wasn't acceptable at all, but I guess she saw how at peace I am. I get the best of both worlds doing this."

Holy fuck. He worked with the FBI and said it like it was nothing. "How old are you?" Wow, that came out wrong. Thankfully Connor just laughed.

"I'm twenty-five, but technically I'm six." Apparently, Markus's confusion shows on his face. "Leap-year baby."

"Leap-year baby and a twin, what are the odds of that?" He really didn't think Connor would have an answer.

"There's a one in 1,461 chance of having a leap day birthday. The odds of twins are one in 67 times the odds of being born on February 29, which comes out to one in 97,887." His jaw was definitely on the ground.

"Though, because we are identical the odds go up to one in 365,250. So, I am exceedingly rare in that case." Connor shrugged.

"That and you're a genius." Markus points out. Connor blushed and ducks his head. He grins and bumps their shoulders together. Connor's eyes widen and he actually brings a hand up to cover his face. Hm, interesting but also adorable.

"Oh, I was wondering if you have Odes by John Keats. Carl wants to read it." Connor sighs, he's probably glad for the subject change.

He stood for a moment and glances around before nodding to himself. "If we do, it'll be this way." Connor reaches out and gently touches Markus's arm, but he doesn't hold onto him like before. He really wished he would.

Connor finds the area and looks around. Oh goodness, they are definitely in the back of the library and it's almost the exact same as his dream.

Connor crouches down, and runs his fingers against the books, squinting at them a bit. He obviously still works out and Markus would very much like to feel those thighs. They practically stretch his pants to their limit and it's driving him insane.

Then, of course, Connor makes it worse. He doesn't know why, but Connor turns to him without standing and looks up at him, smiling softly. He really, really needed him to stand back up soon, or he was going to have a very obvious problem.

Thankfully Connor doesn't stare at him for long (even though it feels like an eternity). He finds the book and stands up in one fluid motion. That did make him wonder, how had he been injured badly enough to have to retire so early? He had stated that he loved being a detective, so it wasn't for want to stop, and he just took the chance.

This time he doesn't hand Markus the book, he just holds onto it. "Do you want to get coffee?" Connor blurts out. "I-I mean, they have a small coffee shop upstairs. We can get some if you want. Or, if you have the time. Sorry." Connor cringed at himself, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

"Ah, I'd love to, but I should be getting back to Carl. I'll treat you to one another time. Or, well… there's this new Cafe opening, we could go there if you'd like." He's ready to apologize too but Connor quickly glances up and nods.

His grin is so bright it's blinding, but Markus can't seem to look away. "I'd love to! I heard about that but didn't have a reason to go."

"How about," he paused, mentally going over his schedule, "Thursday at two? We can do it earlier if you want."

By then they were at the desk again and Connor scanned the book. "Two works, it's a date!" He smiled handing him the book and card back.

Markus fumbled but tried to play it off with a chuckle. He probably didn't mean it like that, but fuck he hoped he did.

He is almost jogging away, mostly to stop himself from saying something stupid. He considers just walking home but decides to take the bus. He didn't need to have to take another shower today.

He's definitely more calmed down by the time he gets home, but his mind was still racing. Connor definitely hadn't meant it like that. No, he couldn't. It was just coffee. Just two guys, who are friends, getting coffee. Totally nothing else. Nope, nada.

He feeds the parakeets and looks around for Carl. He notices the lights are on in the studio, so he goes there. It wasn't odd for either one of them to spend most of the day there.

Carl is working on the huge painting that he'd been painting for over three weeks now. Even now, it was incredibly striking, unfinished. Carl looked down at him and then back to the painting. Markus stands back, taking it all in. He was always stunned at Carl's work, even when he couldn't quite get it.

The moment Carl could he had given Markus a paintbrush. At first, Markus had just painted the world around him as it was. Carl had taught him to paint what he saw, yes, but what he felt about it.

He definitely wasn't the best, even after all this time, but he still enjoyed painting, especially with Carl. Though, it seemed Carl was already one step ahead of him.

An easel was set up, along with a blank canvas for him. He knew what he wanted to paint before even picking up his pencil to sketch it out.

He loved the sound of the pencil against the canvas, though he often had to take a step back, look it over and fix the problems. Some people could just paint, but Markus preferred to be able to actually see it first before he put any paint on the canvas.

He hadn't even realized Carl had stopped painting until he heard him from behind. "Oh my god."

Markus let his hand drop as he looked at the sketch. It was definitely his best work so far and he hadn't even started painting yet.

It wasn't even that exquisite, definitely not as good as Carl's, but even still. It had so much emotion in it that you could overlook any mistakes.

"I… I probably should have asked him if I could paint him first." Markus mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

Carl quickly shakes his head, "no, this is amazing." Carl rolls closer eyes wide. Markus can't help but agree. Drawing Connor was the easiest thing he'd ever drawn, and he didn't know why. Well… that wasn't completely true but he wasn't going to think about it.

He was definitely not thinking about that as he picked up a paintbrush, and he wasn't thinking about it as he started to paint. 

[the-most-beautiful-broom]

50 questions you’ve never been asked

Thanks for the tag @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold this is a fun one!

What is the colour of your hairbrush? sooo i actually don’t own a hairbrush because curls but i have a green detangler comb that sits in my shower, if that counts

Name a food you never eat? i like chocolate and i like ice cream, but chocolate ice cream is a no for me

Are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold, likely because i refuse to wear socks if i’m not wearing shoes

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? coming up with a caption for an insta post for when my friend Rose comes to new york--i’m really pleased with myself on this one: we’ll go to East Harlem and we’ll take a pic in front of a mural or something and my caption shall be (drumroll) there is a Rose in Spanish Harlem 

What is your favourite candy bar? i like any of lindt’s solid chocolate bars

Have you ever been to a professional sports event? yeah! lots of hockey when i was still in dallas, and Padres games when I was still in San Diego

What is the last thing you said out loud? “so if no one has anything else, I’m happy to give y’all fourteen minutes of your day back.”

What is your favourite ice cream? ben and jerry’s cherry garcia

What was the last thing you had to drink? hot water

Do you like your wallet? haha nope, i’m so ambivalent about it, it’s big enough to hold everything and small enough to fit in multiple purses so it’s perfectly comfortable but it’s not like ooo cute 

What was the last thing you ate? soooo this is me realizing i haven’t eaten anything today? last night i had some cake i made over the weekend

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? not last weekend or even recently in general...i have been on the hunt for a vintage leather bomber jacket; i had one in college and i daily regret donating it 

The last sporting event you watched? probably a baylor game, last fall

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? so. there’s this brand of specialty popcorn called popcornopolis and they make one called ‘zebra’ and it’s caramel corn drizzled with white and milk chocolate 

Who is the last person you sent a text message to? my sister

Ever go camping? as a kid, for sure. my dad was an eagle scout so he was into it...it’s not my favorite or like it can be done

Do you take vitamins? supplements, so like red clover or magnesium

Do you go to church every Sunday? lol every Sabbath I do

Do you have a tan? nope and i’m bitter

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? pizza, veggie chinese options aren’t the best

Do you drink your soda with a straw? nope but i’m also that pretentious person that pours soda into a glass instead of drinking from the can or bottle

What colour socks do you usually wear? i got a bunch of ankle socks from old navy last summer, they’re pastel colored with different dogs haha

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i don’t have a car anymore rip

What terrifies you? lots of anxieties, few terrors? terrors is a strong word. like...dying alone, for sure, something happening to my friends/family and being helpless to stop it...nothing revolutionary

Look to your left, what do you see? a dress that i borrowed a lot from one of my friend that she just sent me because she was cleaning out her closet and thought of me

What chore do you hate? sweeping/swiffering the floor

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? i mostly just blush, it’s a mess

What’s your favourite soda? Dr. Pepper or fresca

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus? fast food isn’t really a thing in new york...when I was in texas, i’d do drive thru if it was just me, but if i was with someone, we’d go in. but like really the only place i can think of is in n out

Who’s the last person you talked to? it was a conference call for work lol

Favourite cut of beef? oof so now i’m that annoying vegetarian is this the second time it’s come up? back in the day, it would’ve been a filet mignon 

Last song you listened to? anything by dermot kennedy; he’s been on loop for like weeks now

Last book you read? Gone Girl, finally

Favourite day of the week? Saturdays or sundays

Can you say the alphabet backwards? i cannot and i also cannot say that i have any desire to

How do you like your coffee? i’m an espresso girl so either an oat milk latte or an americano

Favourite pair of shoes? white sneakers, any brand, as long as they’re a little dirty

The time you normally go to sleep? these days it’s been 3am i’m doing great

The time you normally get up? around 8:40am

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? genuinely good with either

How many blankets on your bed? two

Describe your kitchen plates: brooklyn-sized--cheap counters, small stove, sensitive oven, tall

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? i don’t drink woohoo

Do you play cards? i never learned except for one disastrous occasion where my ex tried to teach me poker but i learned to shuffle because i don’t like being inept/having to ask someone else to do it

What colour is your car? no car! new york city baby

Can you change a tire? lol no definitely not

Favourite job you’ve ever had? when i was in college i worked as an RA in the dorms, and i loved that. getting to be a safe space, plan events, looking out for girls and decorating our hall--i lived in the same building for four years! 

How did you get your biggest scar? when i was like 2, i tripped over the back of a rocking chair and split my head open, so i have a scar through my right eyebrow

What did you do today that made someone else happy? tagged a bunch of gals i used to go to school with in something on instagram, reminding them how much they mean to me and have taught me :) 

kath, this was so great! tagging @thelittlefanpire @dylanobrienisbatman @nightbleeder and anyone else assume you’re tagged bc i want to know all these things about you ♥

[purplesurveys]

735

Hola, hablas espanol? Un poco. Haha most of my Spanish is based off of context clues from similar words and phrases that we have in Filipino, and the very basic lessons I’ve gotten from Duolingo if that even counts, so I most likely would not survive a conversation. Overall though, I can read Spanish much more quickly and better than I can listen to/speak it. Music is playing right now, isn't it? What song? No but for some reason I have the OST of one of the Mario Kart 8 tracks playing in my head. Do you use AIM? What's your screen name? No, I didn’t really catch that era anymore. How many cell phones have you gone through in your life? I had two of the classic Nokia phones, a flip phone, a hand-me-down from my dad, two iPhone 5S, and my current iPhone 8 so that makes it a total of seven. Do you have a little sister? What's her name? Yeah. We’ve always called her Nina at home but for some reason she chose to go with her full first name in school and everywhere else, so it’s always a source of confusion when her friends and I are in the same room and we call her different names hahaha.

Who was the last person you screamed at? Why were you screaming? I think my mom? I was filming my dad doing one of the Tiktok dances (yep, my parents are into Tiktok lmaooooo) but my mom blocked the camera at some point so I jokingly yelled at her to go away. Can you crack your joints? Which ones? Just my fingers, which is all I ever feel like cracking anyway. What's your favorite name for a guy? And a girl? I repeat my fave girls’ names too much on this damn site, y’all know at least one of them by now. I don’t really think of boys’ names but I suppose my current favorite is Miguel. Are you good at answering trick questions? I don’t really encounter them a lot so I wouldn’t know. Do you use Myspace or Facebook? Or both? I don’t use Myspace/was never addicted to it the way I am to like Twitter now. I do use Facebook for various reasons – to stay connected to family, to be updated with announcements from school, to communicate for work, and to share memes hahahaha. Do you need spellcheck in order to spell things correctly? Not really. Sometimes I’ll Google a word before typing it out to be 100% sure but it’s only usually for words that are commonly misspelled, like ‘occasionally.’ Do you do too many surveys? How many have you done today? I don’t know if taking them daily counts as taking them too much but to be fair I only take one to three surveys a day. I definitely take much fewer surveys than I did, like, seven years ago when I would fill out ten a day. Have you ever changed yourself to impress someone? Who? I remember trying to like bands like The Summer Set, You Me At Six, The Maine, We Came As Romans, This Century, etc in Grade 6 because all the cooler, hipster kids liked them. UGH thinking about how I acted during that period is so cringe because I never even liked any of the fucking music but I tried so hard to, lmao. There were only three bands I ended up genuinely enjoying: All Time Low, Sleeping With Sirens, and We Are the In Crowd. After that I stopped paying attention to what people liked. Who was the last person you gave up on? Why did you give up on them? I think it was Macy. She has changed a lot and it’s obvious we are not as close as before and when we do talk it’s mostly awkward small talk. I don’t know what happened along the way, but I just hope she’s happy. What was the last thing you printed? Is there even ink in your printer? I usually have stuff printed in school because with my dad not being home most of the time, my mom and brother never printing anything, and my sister living in a dorm, it doesn’t seem worth it to keep buying ink just for me. The last thing I printed was a news article I needed to turn in for business writing class. What's your favorite number? Is there any reason that's your favorite? 4. I honestly liked it initially because it’s Beyoncé’s favorite number so I just stuck with that answer for the longest time haha. What kind of shampoo do you use? Does it smell amazing? It’s one of the Dove shampoos. It’s nothing life-changing but seeing as it’s a hair care product, it of course smells nice and decent.   Do you go to concerts? What was the last one you attended? Not a lot. I save my attendance for my absolute favorites which means that so far I’ve been to two Paramore shows and one One Direction show. I make sure they’re bigger, more mainstream acts that don’t happen in the Philippines a lot because it’s my dad who pays, and I wanna make sure what I’m asking him to treat me to is gonna be a super super worth it experience, if that makes sense. Have you ever had a conversation with someone through bulletins? I don’t think so. Do you shop online? With your own credit card, or someone else's? I have food delivered from online but I barely buy other stuff online. I use cash on delivery since I don’t own any kind of card. Who's your best friend? How long have you known each other? I’ve known Angela for 15 years and Gab for 9. Who was your first boyfriend/girlfriend? Why did you break up? She freaked out and thought we were rushing too much at 17, which she was right about. Have you ever gotten your nails done? Or do you get them done regularly? Never but Gabie keeps telling me that we should have a nail day hahahaha. Idk, I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of someone working on my fingers or toes or any part of my body. Have you been outside yet today? What were you doing? Sure. I stepped out into our backyard to walk my dog for a few minutes in the afternoon; in the evening my family and I had dinner on our rooftop which is technically a part of outside. Tell me about the last thing that made you laugh until it hurt. It was one of the more recent segments from a Korean reality show I watch. It’s not gonna be funny if I narrate it lmao but suffice it to say it’s a show about kids and their dads, and the kid that I watched in particular is exceptionally smart for his age and says a lot of witty things. One of the things he said was bullseye for me and I ended up nearly screaming in laughter at 3 AM. When was the last time you got a new bed? Is your bed comfy? 2008. We never changed my bed from when we first moved here. Yes, I’d say it is. What kind of games did you play on the playground when you were younger? I loved playing at the sandbox because I found the texture really fun to touch and play with; I also liked the swing and the trapeze bars.

Have you ever buried a time capsule with a friend? Did you dig it up yet? Nope. I find them very interesting though. Tell me one thing you'd like to change in 2010. There's gotta be something. That was a whole-ass decade ago, holy shit. I don’t remember what I sought for 2010 back in 2009 but I imagine one of them is for me to find a friend to be with because it was in 2010 that two of my closest friends, Andi and Angel, both migrated to New Zealand and Canada. Spoiler alert: I didn’t, and I was sad the entire year. Do you have or want any tattoos? Of what? Yes. The only design I can think of right now is my dog’s pawprint. Do you remember the first time you ever drove a car? Who were you with? Yeah, it was in my parents’ old Mitsubishi Lancer. I was with my mom and I drove too close to curbs/walls the entire time haha. Do any of your friends drink excess amounts of alcohol? Do you? JM drank a lot at the start of the quarantine to the point that I started to get worried, but I think he’s lessened his intake in the last few weeks. Other than him I don’t know anyone with a drinking problem. I certainly don’t have one. What color is your favorite hoodie? When did you get it? Hoodies aren’t really my thing so I don’t have a favorite one. How many pairs of shoes do you have? Are they under your bed? Around 10-15 would be a safe guess. They’re in a shoe rack in a bodega-like space underneath our stairs. What exactly is under your bed? Is it a mess? Not a mess. I just have my old WWE magazines and other various magazines that I collected as a teenager with Beyoncé and Kristen Stewart on the cover stored in two large containers. Have you ever been in handcuffs? Why, exactly? Not by the police, lol byeeeeeeeeeeee What's your favorite thing to do when drunk? Would you do this sober? I join games a lot more and I’m generally friendlier and louder. I can be the first two when I’m sober, just a lot more reserved. When was the last time you bled? What happened? I caught a mosquito sucking blood off of my knee a week ago. Have you ever had to be put to sleep at a hospital? Why? Nope. Do you actually have a calendar on your wall? What are the pictures of? I do not. When are you planning on moving out of your parents' house? In 2-3 years when I’ve saved enough, probably. I’m itching to do it as soon as I can though. Tell me about your day today. :) It was my parents’ 23rd wedding anniversary so we had a bigger brunch that consisted of pancit Malabon, several sticks of barbecue, sisig, and various kakanin to celebrate. The afternoon was uneventful and I just spent most of it brushing up on my Spanish lessons hah, then I had a quick siesta; then for dinner we had burgers from a local place that recently opened again while the quarantine is ongoing. Are you a fan of dogs? Do you have any pets? I LOVE dogs, except for chihuahuas which I genuinely am unable to start liking because of (most of) their personalities. I will definitely care for one if I see them starving at a road but ugh idk, I just like all other dogs a lot more. And I know there are cuddly and behaved chihuahuas out there but I’ve simply seen more feisty ones and since then it’s been hard to have my mind changed about them. Who was the last person in your family to graduate high school? Was it you? My sister graduated in 2018. Have you ever been on a cruise? How many? Where did they go? Yeah, just once, for my 18th birthday. I went to China, Japan, and South Korea.

[sunlightbabe]

look both ways | part three | rami

pairing: joe mazzello x reader a/n: here’s chapter three of the lovingly nicnkamed ‘hot mess reader’ fic!! special shoutout to loml lena for her help with this one <3 you can read part one here and part two here

Rami read. Lucy drinks coffee. Reader visits a friend. As always, let me know what you think!

The cafe is pleasantly quiet this early in the morning. There's no one else inside the small space, save for the baristas working behind the counter, which means Rami gets to pick where to sit instead of being stuck with the first available table. With his book in one hand and his coffee in the other, his morning is shaping up to be pretty perfect. Well, almost perfect.

Picking a table tucked into the furthest corner of the room, Rami swirls his straw around in his iced coffee, eyeing it wearily as the ice cubes audibly clink together. He's been ordering the same thing for months now and this? This is not his usual order. This looks different.

He takes a hesitant sip and frowns almost immediately. Yeah, definitely not what he ordered. This is far too bitter and there isn't nearly enough ice- the solution is to go up to the counter and let the barista know that some sort of mistake has been made, he knows this. But people make mistakes. It's not a big deal. Rami would rather deal with his bad coffee than trouble the nice person behind the counter.

And who knows, maybe he'll get used to it? Rami tries another sip, smaller this time, and suppresses a shiver. Nope, still gross.

Moving his tongue around his mouth to try and get rid of the lingering, sharp taste, Rami pushes his cup away from him and towards the other end of the table. He wonders if one of the girls will drink it. He knows Lucy likes her drinks flavored stronger than he does and that if she doesn't want it, you'll probably take it. You never turn down anything free, especially if it's edible. Or drinkable, in this case.

With one last glance towards his drink, Rami flips open his book and settles more comfortably in his seat. He knows he should be more productive with his free time, that he should be working on homework or doing one of the readings for his classes, but he can't be bothered to reach for his laptop, tucked away in his bag on the seat next to him.

Rami finds it all too easy to get sucked in. He reads and reads, the pages flipping easily under his fingers as his eyes move from one sentence to the next. He's only dimly aware that the cafe has gotten more crowded as the morning continues on and he stops reading just long enough to shoot Lucy an incredibly delayed text to see if she wants to meet up with him at the cafe and grab something to eat together.

He shoots you a similar text a moment later- a useless gesture, really, because of course you're invited too- and turns his attention back to his book. He's able to read a few more pages before his phone buzzes with a reply but Rami doesn't check it right away. Just one more page.

Except one page turns to two, then three, then five, and then he's almost two thirds of the way done with the entire book.

A pair of cold hands unexpectedly slide across his shoulders and slip under the collar of his shirt. He jumps a little in his seat, snapping out of his reading-induced, pseudo-hypnotic trance, but his eyes never leave the page.

"Sorry love, didn't mean to startle you," Lucy says and he can feel her rest her chin on top of his head.

" 's alright," he says with a little smile, even though she's currently sapping the warmth out of him. The things he puts up with for love.

"What are you reading about?"

"Moss." Rami flips the page- he's almost done, just one more paragraph before the chapter ends. "Did you know that Spanish Moss is actually a flowering plant? It's more closely related to pineapple than actual moss."

Lucy hums, pulls her hands out from his shirt, and loosely wraps her arms around his shoulders.

The book he's reading is about more than just moss. It talks about botanical sciences, yes, but it's also full of personal essays about the author's life and culture, a collection of stories and memories and past reflections. It's scientific poetry. He doesn't elaborate on any of this, choosing instead to finish his reading with rapt attention. He figures he can tell Lucy all about it later, preferably once he actually finishes reading the entire thing.

The chapter ends and Rami gently closes the book. He tilts his head back to look up at Lucy who, in turn, lifts her chin off of his head.

"Hi," he says simply with a warm smile, unable to look away from the way her hair falls so perfectly around her face as she looks down at him.

"Hello."

"Sorry I didn't hear you coming," Rami says as Lucy presses a gentle kiss against his forehead before pulling away to sit beside him. He runs his hand through his hair, fingers carding through the soft curls, fixing and fluffing it up from where Lucy unintentionally flattened it. "Kinda got absorbed in my reading."

"It's alright." Lucy moves his backpack to the floor and shifts her chair closer until their knees touch under the table. "I figured that was the case when I texted you to let you know that we were running a bit late and you never got back to me."

Rami takes in the circles under her eyes and the tenseness of her shoulders. "Everything okay?"

Lucy waves her hand vaguely in the air. "Yeah, just, you know. Looking for keys and wallets and the like after a night out is always an adventure."

"Ah." Rami looks at the empty spots across the table and then takes a quick glance around the room. "Speaking of adventure, where's our favorite party girl?"

"Throwing up in the bathroom, hopefully. She was complaining about feeling nauseous the whole ride here."

"Poor thing," Rami says with a sympathetic frown. He eyes the small hallway leading to the bathrooms before turning his attention back to Lucy. She looks exhausted, which is typical for the morning after a night out, but there's something off about her. Maybe it's the way she's slouching in her seat or how she has this slightly glazed look to her eyes. Rami hums to himself and gently nudges her foot with his own until she looks away from the general hustle and bustle of the cafe and looks back at him.

“Rough night?" he asks, inclining his head to the side a little as he watches her.

Lucy doesn't answer right away. Rami patiently waits, eyes flickering over her face. She looks dead on her feet- or ass since technically she was sitting, not standing- and yet she's still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. Without a word, and without looking away from her, he reaches for his pushed aside drink and slides it in-front of her.

The smile Lucy flashes him is small and soft and makes his heart do this strange, almost leaping thing in his chest. He disgusts himself sometimes with just how much he loves her.

"Rough is... an understatement," Lucy finally answers, playing with the straw for a moment. "I didn't sleep. At all."

Well, that explains why she looks so damn tired. Rami hums quietly as Lucy takes a sip of the coffee. She hardly bats an eye at it and wordlessly offers it back to him. Rami declines with a slight shake of his head.

Lucy looks like she's about to say something else, but instead she takes another lengthier sip. As she chugs the coffee down, Rami looks over towards the bathrooms once again and catches sight of you just as you walk into the main cafe.

Wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of sunglasses that cover up most of your face, you look like the picture definition of a hangover. You shuffle over to their table, sit down across from him and Lucy, and promptly rest your head and arms on the table.

"You doing okay there champ?" Rami says, trying to keep the laughter from his voice. He fails.

You merely grunt in reply. Rami's been drinking with you enough times to know just how much alcohol it really takes to make you this miserable the morning after. He feels for you, truly.

"I don't think you're going to get much sleep here," he points out after a quiet moment passes in which you don't respond or even move. Next to him, Lucy finishes off her coffee, straw slurping quietly against the bottom of the cup. Rami leans across the table and pinches the sleeve of the sweatshirt you're wearing between his thumb and forefinger. "... is this mine?"

"It's comfy," comes your muffled reply. He snorts and wonders just how long ago Lucy stole it, knowing you very likely stole it from her closet in turn. Or maybe you stole it from his apartment yourself? He doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

Rami leans back in his seat and eyes you and Lucy, a curious look creasing his forehead. "What the hell happened last night? I haven't seen you two this bad in a long time."

('A long time' being just earlier that year, at the reception for Lucy's sister's wedding. Open bars were dangerous.)

"Do you want to tell him or should I?" Lucy asks casually. You raise your head just enough to meet her gaze and even though your sunglasses completely cover your eyes, Rami can only imagine the glare you're giving her.

He's expecting the worse, which could be anything given your track record, but even with his active imagination and his knowledge of your past drunken shenanigans, he's not expecting the words that come out of your mouth.

"I got hit by a car last night."

Rami blinks and wonders if he heard you correctly. He looks between you and Lucy, waiting for the punchline, for one of you to crack a smile and break and laugh as your joke falls apart. But that doesn't happen. You keep your head rested on the table and Lucy looks back at him with an arched eyebrow, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You... got hit by a car last night," Rami repeats slowly. Lucy nods her head and you simply groan.

Rami scrubs a hand down his face. "That's... shitty." It's scary and Rami's head fills with violent, awful images of what could have happened. Although- "Although you're here now, so I'm guessing it wasn't too severe? What did the doctors say?"

"I don't know," Lucy says, voice sounding a little strained, "seeing as how we didn't go to the hospital last night."

"What."

"Oh my fucking god- I'm fine," you say with an exasperated little noise as you finally raise your head completely off the table. "It was- it was nothing, okay? It was just a little bump."

"From a car. A car hit you last night," Lucy argues.

"Yeah, barely. It was a light tap, I barely felt it."

"Jesus christ," Rami mutters under his breath. He's not even sure what to do or say. He knows that you should go to the hospital, or at least visit one of the nursing students on campus or something, but he knows you're stubborn and he knows without a doubt that you and Lucy have certainly already had this argument. Judging by the fact that you were here and not waiting in the emergency room, he knows you won. "Did either of you get the license plate number?"

"What for? To press charges?" you ask with a scoff.

Lucy shakes her head and rests her chin against her hand. "The driver didn't even stop. Just kept on driving by."

"Jesus christ," Rami repeats. Anxiety blooms all too familiarly in his chest and he gets why Lucy wasn't able to sleep at all the night prior.

"Rami, I'm fine. Seriously. If there was an issue, I'd go to the hospital," you say in an attempt to comfort him, reaching across the table to rest your hand on his arm. "But I feel- okay, I feel like shit, but that's because I drank enough to fill a bath tub last night."

Rami's torn. He wants to believe you, because of course he wants you to be okay, but he remembers how you slipped down the stairs last year and held off on going to the hospital until almost a week later, when your ankle was still black and blue, and even then, Lucy had to force you to go if memory served correctly.

You were a disaster magnet.

"You are one lucky bastard, you know that, right?" Rami says with a small, fond shake of his head. You simply beam at him.

"Lucky or not, I still think you should take it easy the next couple of days. Better safe than sorry," Lucy says as she settles her crossed arms on the table.

"Don't worry, I will. Besides, I don't think I have any-" You cut yourself off with a small hum. "Actually... shit, I had plans for like, tonight. What time is it?"

"Almost 1:00," Rami says after checking his phone. Was it really that late? He had been there at the cafe for much longer than he thought. Rami's phone buzzes as he receives a few texts from his friend Joe but he ignores them for the time being- he assumes he's asking for help with homework, judging on the first few words of the text preview that flash across the screen. Homework can wait.

You rhythmically tap your fingers against the table with a soft hum. "I promised Gwil that I'd help him look over some papers for Fletch's class."

"Wait, he's working with Fletcher? I thought he was TAing for McCarten?" Lucy asks.

"I think he's doing both," Rami says with a shrug. It sounded like a lot of work to him, personally, but if anyone could pull it off, it'd be Gwil. "If you explained the situation, I think he'd understand."

You shrug and lean further back in your chair. "No, yeah, he totally would. I'm just thinking-"

"Nothing good ever comes of that," Lucy teases under her breath. Rami snorts and wonders if you even heard her, but then you playfully flip her off and that answers that.

"I'm just thinking that it's not as if I'll be doing anything strenuous. I'll just be sitting there reading over some essays, but my god, my head's killing me. I feel like I could sleep for a week... so I should just re-schedule it?" The infliction in your voice makes it sound like you're asking if that's what you should do. Rami's never been prouder.

Rami leans over and rests his head on Lucy's shoulder before letting out a wistful sigh. "She's growing up so fast."

"Bite me."

"I remember when she was just yea high," Lucy says with an exaggerated sniffle, motioning a few feet off the ground with her hand.

With a groan louder than necessary for his and Lucy's benefit, he's sure, you push your chair away from the table and stand up. Lucy giggles and Rami smirks as he straightens back up and watches you carefully, worried for a second that you're just going to collapse in sudden pain. That doesn't happen, thankfully.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To find Gwil and let him know I can't make it tonight." You elaborate further before Rami can even ask. "I dropped my phone after the accident last night and now it won't turn on."

"Do you want to use mine?" Rami offers. He's pretty sure he has Gwil's number saved in his phone somewhere. His phone lights up with another text from Joe and Rami closes the notification before offering it to you, but you just shake your head.

"Nah, I'll be fine. He's usually at the library around this time and it's a quick walk from here. I feel like I need to get up and stretch around anyways, ya know? I get all stiff if I just sit around for too long."

Maybe you have a point. Maybe the fresh air will do you some good. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?" Lucy asks, reaching into her bag for her keys, but you're already walking away.

"I'll see you at home!" And with that, you walk out the door.

Lucy practically deflates the moment you leave the cafe, resting her head against Rami with a tired little groan. Rami reaches a hand over to gently pat her knee.

"I'm going to go gray before I hit 30, I just know it," she laments quietly. "I love her dearly but she stresses me out so much- a car Rami! She got hit by a car and just- just walked it off!"

"Is it really that surprising? She has a talent for walking away from accidents unscathed. Remember that time she fell off my balcony?" To be fair, his apartment was only on the second floor, and you had fallen right into the hedges. He vividly remembers your arm poking out through the leaves, giving him a thumbs up to let him know that you were okay.

"... No?"

Rami gives Lucy a quizzical look. "The night I locked myself out of my apartment? She climbed onto the balcony to unlock one of the windows-"

"Hold on a second, is that how she got poison ivy all over her back last summer?"

It hits Rami then that Lucy wasn't there for that particular adventure. She did, after all, have the extra key to his apartment. If she had been there, they wouldn't have had to resort to Mission Impossible-esque methods of getting inside.

And he has a vague, fuzzy memory of the two of you promising to never tell Lucy about what happened. Well.

Rami's not sure what to say next, words dying before they can even form properly in his head, but thankfully, he doesn't have to say anything. Lucy shakes her head a little and mumbles something that sounds like "I'm too hungover for this" before leaning against him even further, practically using him as a pillow. Rami doesn't mind.

On the table, his phone lights up again. Another text from Joe.

Trying not to jostle Lucy around, who he thinks might genuinely be trying to take a nap at this point, he reaches for his phone to read the texts.

Rami can feel his eyes widen with each text he reads. He re-reads them to make sure that he's not losing his mind and when it becomes apparent that he's not, he shakes Lucy's shoulder.

"Honey, we- we need to go to the library. Right now."

tag list: @bensrhapsody @honimello @lap-of-the-gods @myguardianmailman @killer-queen-xo if you want to be tagged in future chapters, you can drop an ask or leave a comment!

[sozotohakai]

15 QUESTIONS, 15 MUTUALS

Tagged by @moon--wake​ (thank you!)

⭑ are you named after anyone ?  

Technically yes, my mom was raised Christian though she grew apart from the religion itself (but not from her belief in God and angels), and when she learned she was getting a daughter (which she had desired but until me didn’t get), she named be Christelle, to be written like this (rather than Kristel for example), and it can be read as Christ+elle (elle being french she). This works perfectly for me too as it shortens to Chris, which is a more gender neutral name, which is rather fun considering mom wouldn’t have known back then I would realize I’m non binary.

Fun fact: my middle name is the same name from an aunt if I recall correctly, one of the few people from my father’s side of the family that mom did like.

⭑ when was the last time you cried ?  

This weekend, there was Doctor Who on TV and there was the episode with Doctor Donna so if you know it you know it’s the ending that made me cry. It didn’t help my mind start going “Yooo super angst Wangxian” and I yelled NOPE. Long story short: the episode deals with how the only way to save someone is to erase all memories of the time spend together (including meeting) and how they can’t come into contact with anything that could lowkey remind of said times. Now I’m not okay thinking of how the theme of having forgotten is heavy in DGM ouch.

⭑ do you have kids ?  

Nope, unless you count characters I created we always joke that with mom, they’re her grandchildren.

⭑ do you use sarcasm a lot ?  

Depends, it can come out of me at random times, its more likely to happen if I’m playing; or if I’m lacking sleep.

⭑ what’s the first thing you notice about people ?  

That is a good question...   It can vary? But mostly I feel like I take right away into the overall appearance, like... either to recognize them, or store them in my mind so I can hope to recognize them later. I don’t really (or not often) stop at a detail, it’s just, get a reading of the general appearance of someone. After that I pay attention to expressions and how they speak (which is funny to say since I have trouble with eye contact half the time).

⭑ what’s your eye color ?  

Brown

⭑ scary movie or happy ending ?

Happy ending, though tbh, I do kind of love scary movie, it’s just that I have troubles actually watching.

⭑ any special talents ?

Uuuuu, I guess, I’ve been told I’m good at emotional empathy? I’ve been able to know when someone felt low just by how they would write. That’s, I believe, the main reason I find my way with words (when I have time to think) because it’s heavily based on my empathy mixed with experience. Like, I feel so much what someone else is feeling, and that’s why I can come with up with words for them and their situation.

⭑ where were you born ?  

France

⭑ what are your hobbies ?  

Writing, reading, playing games, listening to music, watching videos (Markiplier, React, MMD&Vocaloid stuff, AMV&Anime mix videos, sometimes bloopers and funny stuff).

⭑ do you have any pets ?

I don’t, but my brother and his dad have a cat so he’s like my pet. His name is Grisou (gris = grey so it’s totally a cute naming of his fur colour), he’s playful and seems to view any approach as a signal to play (aka paw at you and try to nip), though he’ll get cuddly at times from what I heard. For my part, we’ve got this ritual that I’ll slowly approach my fingers so he sniffs them (unless I see him about to paw/bite so I dont even try), he lets me pet his head a tiny bit, and then I leave him alone. So he doesn’t try to paw or claw or nip at me because he knows I’ve learned to tell if he’s okay with an approach and when I should stop.

(Fun fact: one time he kind of accidentally hurt my leg, despite my pants he dug fangs and claws too deep and I ended up with a few cuts that bled, I was a bit scared that day and for the next few times I saw him, then I kind of hesitantly start to approach him again, and I think he picked up on it and that’s why he’s a bit more patient with me? I’m the only person he doesn’t straight up claw or paw or nip at, and the few times he does, it’s slow, and/or light).

⭑ what tattoos / piercings / body mods do you have ?  

None, sometimes I get the thought of having tattoos, but I’m not sure I’ll ever follow through. But probably if I did, I would got with a small tattoo first just to like, see? I once thought about wolf tattoo, but tbh if I get a tattoo one day, it’ll be a dragon. Oh gosh yeah, a small tattoo of an eastern dragon circling my wrist or maybe higher like close to elbow level, maybe on both side. And after that if I’d have the courage, a western dragon in the back (with feathers wing, I love my dragons with feather wings).

⭑ how tall are you ?  

5 ‘7~ I don’t think I’m that tall, but I’m amused because it seems like I’m taller than most of my friends. My brother is even taller than me, he’s 6′/6′1. Or because I’m squinting at the conversion, I’m ~172 cm (and he’s ~185 cm).

⭑ dream job ?

What I’m doing right now, which is work as an independant/freelance writer. Lemme be shameless for a tiny bit and link to my site too, since. Kind of fit with the question.

What’s funny is that, as a child, when it first start to float around, what will you be later, I loved dinosaurs so I thought, I’ll become a paleontologist. I stayed on this path until college, I could feel in me something off, there was nothing else that I could see myself do, so I stick to it, but in college I truly felt how much I just didn’t see myself become a scientist. And it’s totally all thanks to mom and my bro that I realized, hey, writer can be a job too. Then came the hilarious realization that I’ve always been writing or reading, mostly in/for school, but at the end of middle school I discovered fanfics and I never stopped writing&reading those since then (and later rping was added).

⭑ favorite subject at school?  

I’ve always enjoyed literature (no surprise here) though to be precise, here in France the subject is called “Français” and is a mix of learning grammar&spelling&punctuation, then all kind of things like analyzing books and poems. It was, in fact, a bit rarer to actually write a story ourself, as it was more about learning the french language and what is expressed in books. But in elementary school I did have a teacher that gave us a homework that was literally just “write a story” and I got an almost perfect mark (in my teacher word: the only reason you didnt was for the grammar&etc mistakes”). While in my mom words, years later, “that was the moment I knew you would become a writer”.

I also adored learning English, I think I do love learning languages in general, but the other languages I tried to learn (Latin for one year, Spanish), the teachers were... not helping. The Latin one was, bless her, good but boring (my mom literally almost fell asleep in a teacher-student meeting, face to face); and my first spanish one had no authority and we barely learned anything, so the next one had to try catching up, but it left me (and those who had come from the same class) with very shaky basics and next to no motivation except just have marks above or equal to average. Compared to those, English was made fun to learn, and then it also got associated with my mind with tons of things (fics, subbed animes, being able to talk with friends).

Tagging: @ask-cross-marian @avellaturortem @shensheng-aoman @xueyaang @crowleiii @illusiive @manadcampbellrpblog @crystallizecrimsonbutterfly if you want to!