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ruby-red-inky-blue · 1 year

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Carrie watches Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 15-20 aka “Let’s go down the line, what’s everyone afraid of?”

back with part two of my chaotic list of personal highlights that i wrote down pretty much for myself exclusively. Full of SO many spoilers, you’ve been warned

Blast from the Passed

Murph’s godawful luck with the dice is peak comedy in this episode, first he immediately volunteers to roll for the whole table?? why would you do that?? and then Riz says a cringey line, shoots at someone right in front of him, misses, rolls a nat 20 to hide, and sits in his hiding place agonising over how embarrassing that was

Johnny Spells making a two second entry onto the playing field

“one D4 for gay spit” “Aaaagh! Love wins! It’s fear, it’s out of fear, it’s a horrifying realisation for him.”

Adaine getting caught in the jocks’ weird group huddle and Riz acting like she’s in mortal danger from it

“Where in this city is your father, boy?” “In a room, with a bunch of goblins!”

Brennan’s face when he goes for his coffee forgetting he spit a candy die into it like twenty minutes earlier

“Remember me, Daybreak? I shoot him.”

the entire chaos surrounding Riz getting stuffed into a cannon but especially Fig (or Emily?) yelling “no, take me with him, he can’t go alone!” and “Can I roll to see if he’s having a good time?” “Who, Bill Seacaster? Yeah, he’s having a blast!”

“Tracker jumps, 69!” Gorgug, with audible desperation: “I’m in the same square!”

Murph now being the default roller for the lair check and the entire table cheering for him

he rolls a nat one, gets to re-roll with Fig’s last luck point, and rolls a nat two

My Green Heaven

“Well, The Ball is a lil’ angel so...”

Ally’s complete incapability to remember the elven names and Brennan’s slowly mounting annoyance with it

Riz waking up in his father’s arms and instantly panicking that he might get dropped my heart

also the first full sentence he says to his long-lost father is “I got a bunch of tattoos mum is going to be so mad at me”

honestly in all of these emotional scenes I am Lou and Lou is me

“We’re in heaven! Is this what not having anxiety is like? This is crazy, my heart... is just beating like what I assume a normal person’s heart would!”

his dad told all his colleagues about Riz’s freshman year adventures :(

“On behalf of the Association for Divine Wrath please accept this memorial that your death at the hand of Emperor of the Red Waste was avenged by Your son, Riz Gukgak” “Don’t even talk to me until I’ve had my death avenged”!!!

“People got it sexually from having sex, dad!!” *voice cracks* *sweating profusely* “I thought heaven fixed this stuff!”

“I met your mum when I was 27 years old. You get what I’m saying?” “...I’m like fifteen, I don’t know how old you are, I just know that you’re old.”

I love how Murph is the one who has to singlehandedly shoulder the lore-heavy plot parts because he’s the best at keeping it all straight in his head, but also the one who will suddenly make the least sensible leaps in logic and then not. budge. no matter how many times Brennan gently tries to shoo him away from that path. He is so stuck on this angle that Riz’s father slept with Kalina which... just the logistics of that would be so many hoops to jump through

that said, a fifteen year-old with some complex feelings about his own sexuality fully fixating on this STD angle is probably the most accurate thing that could have happened

“It’s just not... happening yet. Not just the act is not happening, but the wanting it is not... And my friends are all super horny.” “Kiddo, if it never happens, that’s also okay. There’s a lot to life to enjoy and you already matter a lot to your friends and a lot to your family.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For the 847th time this week I am so upset mainstream media isn’t like this

“Work is an act of love” yeah cool can we pump the breaks on this rollercoaster I’m gonna need a lot of lore or a lot of Hilda Hilda-type shenanigans to recover from all that

let me use this moment to say how brilliantly paced this campaign is because Brennan launches into a lore dump immediately after this

“He’s dating mum. But he’s like... he‘s always getting trapped in gems, it’s kinda pathetic.”

Emily and Siobhan silently figuring out a plot point by gesturing across the table

“Well, I’ve got some pretty powerful friends, so...” Riz is so precious

Adaine wanting to save the wrapping paper :(

“TO WAR! Or, to market, but then TO WAR!”

“I’m so happy you have chosen to spend time with my daughter. It’s an incredible improvement over previous partners, if you were to chart it on a graph, a truly incredible spike...”

Siobhan’s face when Fig asks why everyone knows about her and Ayda!

Just. Ayda.

“How did Gilear take it?” “I don’t know, he was very adult about it, but he also is an adult so...” “I’m sorry, I came in way too hot with the little gift card.”

“Tell me all the least important stuff.” I’m *crying*

Zac is deeply underrated as a player, he pulls the most incredible conclusions or minute details out of the hat and never gets any credit for it because he plays loveable dumbasses

Ally’s plan to defeat the big bad by going viral with another seafood party

thrilling online banking content

The Forest of the Nightmare King

“Just upload it as like, ASMR: Puddle” “Like a Laurel/Yanny type thing”

ahhh fuck this is so creepy? The unicorn? nopenopenope no thank you

Fearful Symmetry

“Oh no, he’s making a face. Which one of Brennan’s faces is that?” hard same, Lou.

Zac is such a treasure: “I don’t want to take these stones! I don’t want any of this!” Also once again he’s making by far the smartest choices

“If we take these drugs and cast fear to push us into a bad trip?” Well this all sounds like a great idea

“Riz’s greatest fear is to not have a plan so I’m just gonna run into the woods. Not even gonna take the drugs, because that would be a plan.”

Adaine abandoning her support animal AND her anxiety meds is physically painful. stop I’m so attached to these kids

oh boy, the Baron scene. Yikes yikes yikes

the incredibly cooky accent is such a weird effect, it’s so dumb and so funny but laughing at it feels like a hysterical terror kind of laugh it is SO fucked up

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Brennan accidentally hits the absolute rawest deepest fear I’ve ever experienced as I’m working through my own shit and it is physically nauseating to watch this moment even though I know every word of it, “the years will go by and everyone will find someone that matters more to them than you” because. that’s it right. it’s not even that they’ll abandon you. it’s just that you’ll end up caring more about them than they care about you. you have all this love and only your friends to give it to but they all find partners who are now receiving most of theirs. and you can’t even blame them because they’re doing nothing wrong.

I do love that they’ve gone for this because this is such a particular fear. It’s not a crushing thing, it’s a creeping thing. It’s more a despair than a fear? Like it’s more an absence of hope than a presence of fear and I think that is really interesting to put as like a deeper layer of fear

Riz trying to get out of this specifically by pulling apart the logic of the mirages he’s seeing is on brand (but also this is the one moment where you can tell this probably isn’t a thing Murph or Brennan had to work through themselves, because that wouldn’t fucking help. It’s the concept that’s terrifying, the individual hypothetical partners are completely interchangeable. The correct [worse] response from Baron to this argument would have been just a shrug and a “yes, maybe your friends don’t want these people. But they want someone. Your ideal world where you’re all just together will never be enough for them.”).

“Okay, let’s go down the line, what’s everyone afraid of?” “That’s the most Brennan thing I’ve ever heard.”

Oh good Zac is going for Imposter Syndrome yeah this whole episode is just going to go great for me mentally

Adaine :( nonono this is painful

Fantastic, so I’m just gonna be deeply personally attacked by everyone’s fears except for Fabian and Kristen then. Good good

Gorgug is truly just. the best of the good beans. “Well, I think I’m gonna give it a try” what a champ

oh GOD the sexy rat is back this is a trip

“I take comfort in seeing all my friends there, making out. Not in a weird way.” “Like what amount of comfort?” “A normal amount!”

“.......Is my greatest fear sleeping on the job? I’m so lame!” and the look of complete disgust on Murph’s face

Fig stumbling onto this horrific village full of weird trapped bodies and finding one alive and immediately just going “Hi hello do you need help?” is so pure

the sheer JOY on Brennan’s face when he finally gets to get back at Emily for the Hilda Hilda from 22 Hilda Street and 22 Hilda Boulevard bullshit

Fig and Ayda :( but also “I sit down to write the song She Likes Me For Me, which doesn’t exist in this universe yet.”

"I do not know why I was so easy to discard” holy SHIT Ms Thompson

Spring Break! I Believe In You! Part 1

gotta love the title

Ally’s terrible metaphors

Kristen punches a god

the Abernant sisters :( Siobhan is incredible in these scenes

“Wizards don’t have goddamn cures. We don’t care about other people!”

“Adaine, your father is dead as he leaves the ground” GOOD. We love to see that.

Adaine offering her sister a bunk bed in her tower room :(

“I’m a D8, babe”

oh god is this all riding on a Murph attack roll they are doomed

GILEAR???

“I HAVE NO PRIDE” oh this is brilliant I am wheezing

“You have fully James Bond-ed yourself out of these bonds”

the worst two people fail the roll to not look at Gilear’s junk. poetic cinema.

“Your grandfather made this sword, Fabian! He’s... really good at swords! Slow, but good!”

“I think death is the ultimate mystery! I think it’s fine that she’s dead!”

“Gorgug, you are not related to Ayda in any way. Not your mum, not your dad. Not even a cousin, probably.”

Spring Break! I Believe In You! Part 2

“Every time Kristen and I are together something terrible happens. Team Rizten is 0 for 3.”

more riveting online banking content

Emily weaponising Brennan’s worldbuilding against him

“I feel deep down in my heart that I, too, am a low-quality child.”

the dig at that weird Legolas cgi move in Two Towers

every time Brennan calls the guys “baby” is an absolute delight

Adaine and Fabian thirsting over Riz without his newsboy cap

Murph stealing Emily’s incredibly cool move (with a double disclaimer)

“If you want to use a bonus action to disengage, you could.” “I... I need the bonus action to live.”

paramour/succubus, “Mr. The Insatiable”

hall of fame of worrying lines from Brennan: “Okay, first (!!) let me know when you drop, ‘cause you’re gonna drop.”

The PapaRizzi, when you throw a mirror at someone and shoot them (and livestream it)

“Mission accomplished, dad” Riz is so cringe I love him

“Adaine, how would you feel if I potentially killed your mum?” “I would be HONOURED”

Ally’s clutch nat 20 and Brennan’s “what the fuuuck EVERY SEASON!”

“I think you should start planning for this.” “Brennan, just cry now. Just get it out.” “I actually, I... I don’t know what to do.” “I wish we were all in one room so we could be like running around!”

“Are my bones six hundred years old for real?”

Ally’s character walking up to a god and asking if the god is okay

“I would follow you... is it too early for that? This feels like a weird first date.”

Brennan is forcing Ally to make up deities on the spot again

“I love them all, Riz the most, we already know this, Adaine has my finger in her pocket, these are all my closest friends.”

“Wait, we still need the crown for our grade!”

“If I dream it, would it be real?” Brennan, dead-eyed with a forced serene smile: “Yes, in your heart. Let’s move on.”

Adaine’s mum being chased through the forest by the Vands

“I’m broke.” “We might be making ad revenue at this point!”

None of them get Brennan’s insinuation that Chungledown Bim followed them into the fucking forest

“Hey Aguefort, remember I ordered the most magnificient thing you could ever make? Turns out you already made it, so I take that back.”

A final shout-out to Garthy O’Brien’s accent, and their whole deal

Oh, the reveal, the reveal!

“My sister is sort of wanted for quite a lot of crimes in Solace...”

Jawbone and Adaine :(

Riz gives a slide show for his mother

“In return for the spell that I killed my father with, I wrote you Ayda’s comprehend subtext.”

Adaine being bad at knowing when people are flirting and Fig being bad at flirting because she’s imitating Kristen who is an aggressive desaster flirter

oh no the tattoos

#carrie watches #fantasy high #dimension 20 #boy what a ride #ngl posting this partially in the hope of making someone read the name 'chungledown bim' without any context #fantasy high sophomore year #lgbtq+#asexuality #intrepid heroes

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 3

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Javier being kind of an asshole, allusions to sex, a ~moment~ in the bathtub, mention of PTSD and trauma, food mention, drink mention, ...feelings?

Word count: 4200

Author’s Note: It’s been so long! I’m sorry. It’s been pretty hectic and I’ve been doing my best to wrap up my other series’ and complete requests. I appreciate you all for sticking around and asking for updates on this chapter. I’ve mentioned it a few times, but PIFTL is very difficult to write. It deals with very sensitive issues and so not only can it be mentally draining to write, it takes a lot of time to research and edit. I won’t give up on this series though. I adore this story and can’t wait to share it all with you.

Pain Is For The Living Masterlist

* Reblogs appreciated and my ko-fi is linked in my bio if you wish to support my writing!

Nina pushed off Javi quicker than a bullet leaving a gun, grabbing a blanket from her bed and wrapping it around her naked body. “What the fuck Javier?” she spat.

Jesus Christ -- Javier had never made that mistake before. Moaning someone else’s name? He was better than that. It took him a moment to just process what happened, Nina’s yelling and accusations only a blur in the background. “Who is she, Javier?” Nina questioned, her tone venomous. That was enough to snap the agent out of his thoughts. Her cold eyes burned like wildfire as she glared at him. “Who. Is. She?”

“Uh…” Javier racked his brains to try and figure out a way he’d be able to save this situation. But the longer he took to answer Nina’s question, the more infuriated she got. “Informant.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. You’d agreed to help him. But whether or not you’d actually be able to provide Javier with any relevant information was a different ordeal in itself.

“You’re still sleeping with your informants?” Nina gasped a little, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disappointment. “Why am I not surprised?”

Javier sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling himself off Nina’s bed and grabbing his denim jeans that had been previously discarded on the floor. “C’mon Ni, don’t get jealous now. We haven’t been together for like, a year.” Javier hummed, zipping up his pants. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to locate his shirt. Maybe there was no fixing this. For a split second, he’d forgotten why things had ended with Nina, but now it was becoming clear again. He just had to get outta there. He needed air, and a smoke.

“I let you cum inside of me and you moan out another woman’s name!” Nina exclaimed, shaking her fists in the air. “Javier Peña I fucking hate you!”

Javier offered Nina a small shrug of his shoulders before finding his shirt and buttoning it up. “I’ll see you around Ni.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Called him seventeen times Con, he’s taking the piss.” Steve grimaced, aggressively flicking to the next page of the Bogotá local newspaper.

“Will you just calm down? He’s our friend. We’re doing him a favour. He'll be back soon,” Connie sighed, glancing back over to you, where you had been sleeping on the sofa for the past two and a half hours. “She sleeps better than our Liv,” Connie noted. “Wish we could sleep as well as that.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “I’ll go check on Liv.” He announced at the mention of his daughter. He’d put her down for a nap about an hour ago in Javier’s bedroom.

“No honey, I’ll go. You keep working on your crossword,” Connie giggled before pointing her index finger into one of the blank squares. “Fourteen down: Los huevos revueltos.”

“I would’ve got that,” Steve huffed, scrambling to write the answer down. He definitely would not have. The Spanish puzzle was made for infants and yet he was still struggling.

“Whatever Murph.” Connie rolled her eyes, leaving the table where they were both sitting at.

The second she left the room, you woke up in a cold sweat, feeling dizzy and shaking from a nightmare you didn’t want to remember. Your cheeks were wet, tear stained and goose pimples pricked at your arms. You checked your surroundings in a fluster, not recognising the brown leather couch you were laying on, or the oak wood coffee table in front of you, or even the television pushed against the cream coloured walls. A man with blonde hair and mustache raced over to you, and dropped to his knees, holding you by your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” The man quizzed, his blue eyes searching to meet yours. You were horrified, the feeling of an unfamiliar man grabbing you like this. You screamed in terror, and defensively dug your fingernails into his skin. The man yelped out and stumbled back from you, hitting the coffee table in the process. “Fuck-- shit-- ow--” He gasped. “Connie!” he called. “Connie, she's awake!”

The way he yelled and screamed your name... it was like you were some kind of monster. You hated it.

The sound of footsteps padding into the living room alerted you, and a woman, not much older than you, knelt down in front of you. But unlike the man, she knew well enough to keep her distance. “Hi sweetheart, are you alright? I’m Connie, don’t be afraid. You’re okay.” she assured you, her voice sweet like honey.

“Where am I?” you choked out, tears filling your eyes.

Connie hesitated for a moment. “She doesn’t remember where she is?” Steve asked Connie with concern, scratching the back of his neck as he pulled himself together and shuffled over to you. Taking a note out of Connie’s book, he kept his distance. Connie briefly explained to her husband how your behaviour right now actually made a lot of sense, and how victims of PTSD can often have ‘memory blanks’.

“Darling, I’m Connie Murphy. I’m a nurse. And this is my husband Steve. Steve is DEA. He’s friends with Javier Peña. You know that name, right? Javier Peña.” She repeated his name slow and steady, allowing you to take your time to process the words. Javier Peña. Just like that, a wave of calmness washed over you. His name felt like home. It felt like safety.

“I know Javi.” you whispered in admittance, shuffling around on the sofa. You could feel your lips trembling. It was strange. You were new to Bogotá, and you didn’t really have any friends, other than the late Rosa. And well, Javier too. He was a client, sure, but he was always kind and gentle with you, unlike your other customers. You’d like to think of him as a friend. Right now, he was the only person you had.

“This is Javier’s place. He’s going to watch over you for a little while, okay?” Connie explained. “We are your friends and we’re not going to hurt you. I promise,” the lady soothed. She turned to Steve. “Bring over Olivia.”

“What-- why?” Steve quizzed, his eyebrows furrowing together in bewilderment.

“She needs to know she can trust us. Bring over Olivia,” Begrudgingly following his wife’s instruction, a wary Steve stood up and padded into Javier’s bedroom where Olivia had been left to sleep in a small, transportable crib. He picked up his daughter and carried her into the living room. “This is my daughter Olivia,” Connie told you quietly, smoothing out Olivia’s black hair. “She’s one year old. Would you like to hold her?”

“Connie are you fucking crazy?” Steve snapped.

“I’m a fucking nurse Steve, I know what I’m doing.” Connie hissed back, taking Olivia from her father. She looked back over to you and her deep frown turned into a comforting smile as she slowly handed you the baby. Connie’s hands never left Olivia, and she made an effort to support her head as you cradled the sleeping baby in your arms.

Holding Olivia Murphy gave you a feeling of responsibility. If Steve and Connie were dangerous, they would never have shown you their daughter, let alone allow you to hold her in your arms. You contemplated everything and although it was hard, you decided that you probably could trust them. Still, it raised the question: “Where is Javi?”

Steve shook his head incredulously and stood up, grabbing the phone from one of the side tables and dialling his partner’s number again. You didn’t know what was wrong with the blonde haired agent, but you got the impression that he did not want to be here.

“Steve is going to call him, again. He went to get groceries. I’m sure he won’t be long.” Connie informed softly, and you nodded your head.

“Your baby is adorable,” you announced quietly and Connie smiled, thankful you were beginning to talk a little more. Seemingly, you’d calmed down, which meant Connie’s comforting approach had worked.

“She’s a real gem, isn’t she?”

Javier was just a couple of blocks away when his carphone began to ring. He eyed up the display and read the ‘17 missed calls’, cursing under his breath. He clicked the accept button and continued to drive.

“Javier Peña. You prick.”

“Hi bestie.” Javier grinned, shaking his head at Steve’s introduction. Typical.

“You left us here for three fucking hours with some random girl -- who, by the way, is incredibly unstable, Javier. I don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, but I’m not here for it. Where the fuck have you been? No, forget that. You better be home in the next ten minutes and you better have the ingredients for my fucking paella.” Steve growled before angrily slamming the phone down on the hook.

Javier couldn’t help but chuckle. Steve Murphy was ever the drama queen.

As he drove down the street, he made one final attempt to shrug off what had happened with Nina. Okay, yeah, saying your name was a little uncalled for. But she always got so needy and possessive -- even when she had no reason to be. Nina and Javier weren’t exclusive and hadn’t been for a long time, so, what was her deal?

What was even more concerning to Javi, was the fact he said your name in the first place. Nina looked rather similar to you. Not identical, but from a distance, there was a chance she could’ve been mistaken. Only, when he was pounding into her from behind, he wasn’t at a distance. In fact he couldn’t have been any closer, and yet he still said your name. He was really struggling to justify it.

Sure, he’d been thinking about you when he was inside of her. But was that really so bad? You were clearly on his mind, and Javier just pinned that down to the fact he’d been out all day investigating the crime scene at the brothel. He’d been with you, he’d held you and comforted you. Fuck, even before noon he had been fucking your mouth. It wasn’t exactly unreasonable…

But moaning out your name… shit, could Javier really get past that? Was there any way to justify that -- other than the blatant and glaring honest reason that Javier refused to admit. He wouldn’t even let his mind go there. Whatever, it was fine. He was home now. The end of a long day.

Javier grabbed the groceries from the back of his car and buzzed himself into the DEA apartment block where he and Steve were living. Making his way over to his apartment, he opened the front door and set the brown paper bag of ingredients down on the kitchen counter. When he got home, Connie was just finishing up painting your nails a beautiful sea blue gel colour. She turned around and she looked up at Javier. Your eyes, however, were already fixated on him the second he entered the room.

“Where’s Steve?” Javier asked, diverting his gaze from the two women and continuing to unpack the food.

“He went home. He’s pissed, Javi.” Connie admitted, shaking her head in annoyance and placing the pot of nail polish on the coffee table. She walked into the open space kitchen and nudged the agent.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Javier muttered, stacking the canned goods into a cupboard.

“I’m going home, but don’t think we’ve forgotten about the paella. Steve wants that fucking paella,” Connie chastised. Javier nodded his head but remained silent as he emptied his bag of shopping. “Unbelievable.” Connie scoffed incredulously, and opened the front door before slamming it behind her.

“Thanks Con!” Javier called, but there was no telling if she even heard.

Javier was half way through putting his shopping away when he heard your meek and softly spoken voice call his name in a questioning tone. His dark eyes looked over at you. You were sitting upright on the sofa and his face softened. Stopping what he was doing, he neglected the bag of groceries and padded into the living room to sit down next to you.

“Hi.” Javier murmured, crossing his legs and adjusting the crochet blanket that was covering your lap.

“Hi.” you replied, feeling somewhat shy and slightly nervous, for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“How are you feeling?” Javier asked, bringing himself to look at you.

“Um,” you fumbled at the blanket and thought for a moment. It was a loaded question. Other than the overwhelming feeling of distress and helplessness, you decided to give the agent a simple answer. “Well rested. A little thirsty.”

Javier nodded. “How would you feel about taking a bath?”

You swallowed back a knot in your throat that you hadn’t even realised was there in the first place. “...Do I smell?” you asked, You stretched out and gave your underarms a sniff, prompting Javier to burst out into laughter. Shit, had you always been that adorable? Your nose scrunched up at the distinct smell of dried up blood on your clothes and your shoulders slumped sadly. Javi, noticing your change in demeanor, gently lifted up the blanket and wrapped it around your body.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed. “Believe me, I get stinky too. It happens. Let me help you take a bath. Come with me.”

Taking his hand, Javier navigated you towards the bathroom. It was a small boxy room with barely any space to move around, and yet, to your surprise, it fit a bathtub. Javier twisted the faucet, and the tap began to run warm water. He picked up a bottle of bubble bath and a tub of salts. “I have a bad back,” Javier told you. “These salts really help me relax. And the bubbles are nice too.”

You nodded with a smile. As he emptied the contents into the tub, you watched the products swirl into a colourful abyss. “It smells like you.” you uttered, without really thinking about the weight of your words. Javier said nothing, and you both sat by the side of the tub in comfortable silence, watching as it filled up. He occasionally dipped his hand in the water, checking the temperature.

“Will you be okay?” Javier asked you, taking out a towel and folding it up on top of the toilet seat.

You weren’t really sure, but you nodded your head anyway. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up again. “Actually, Javi, could you stay?”

Javier fumbled a little but smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

Javier had seen you naked countless times due to the nature of your job but for some reason, this time, it felt different. He’d never had a woman use his bathtub before, let alone be requested to stay in her presence as she got undressed and stepped inside. You slipped out of your sultry, blood stained dress and let it pool to the floor. Javi’s mouth parted as he took in your naked form under the amber tinted bathroom lights.

You stepped inside the tub and almost slipped over, but Javier, as quick as lightning, grabbed your arm and steadied you. “Sorry,” he muttered, and your hand slid into his. As your fingers interlocked, you felt something. It was like a bolt of electricity, running up your arm, and judging by Javier’s reaction, he could feel it too. “I should’ve warned you. It can be a little slippery.”

You giggled and tried to tear yourself from Javi’s grip, but he didn’t let go of you once. Instead, he helped you sit down comfortably amongst the bubbles and aromatic hot water. You moaned, feeling your body become indulged and your muscles soften. You smiled and laid back, the bubbles fizzing around your neck and chin, and Javier felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed your lips curl into a smile. It was the smile he would kill to see, and he hadn’t even realised how much he missed it.

“Just relax,” Javier soothed. “I’ll be back faster than you can count to ten.”

Javier ran into the kitchen and took a glass from one of the cupboards before racing back to the bathroom. Kneeling down by the side of the tub, he dipped the glass into the water, filling it up, and gently emptied it down your hair.

“Close your eyes,” he requested, continuing to wet your hair ample enough until it was ready to be shampooed. Taking the bottle of his musky scented shampoo, Javier squirted the thick liquid into your scalp and began to massage it in. You couldn’t believe how gentle he was, and how he was taking his time with you. You’d never in a million years imagine Javier Peña being like this, or acting this intimate, with any woman -- especially not you. To be honest, his own behaviours were even coming to shock Javier. But he just let his instincts take over. He wanted to protect you and make sure you knew just how safe you were. That was the most important thing on his mind.

Once he rinsed your hair, he grabbed some soap and a sponge, handing them to you. “Do you uh-- uh-- do you think you can wash your own body?” He asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together. “If not, that’s okay. I can help. But--”

You smiled and rested a wet hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay Javi. I’ll be fine.” you promised, taking the sponge from him.

“I’m going to find you some clothes to change into.” He told you. “Shout if you need me. I won’t be long.”

And he stuck by his word. Javier raked through his drawers and picked out a pale yellow button down shirt that he hadn’t worn in a few years and a pair of boxer shorts. Padding back into the bathroom, he presented you with them. “It’s not much but it’s all I have,” he told you. “I’m sure Con will take you out shopping at some point. Or we can hop on back to your place tomorrow to grab some of your stuff,” You smiled and stood up, making sure to be careful not to slip this time. Javier held out the towel for you and wrapped you in it. “I’ll leave you to get dried.”

When Javier went back into the kitchen, he figured he should put the rest of the groceries away, only to notice that the once frozen paella ingredients had become defrosted and been rendered completely useless. “Shit.” Javier cursed, pushing them to one side and running a hand through his hair. Looks like after all of this, he couldn’t make paella tonight. He knew he was about to get an earful from Steve at work tomorrow.

“Do you like pizza?” Javier called, rummaging around for a take-out menu and grabbing his phone from the counter.

“I do!” you called back, buttoning up Javier’s shirt and wrapping a towel around your head.

When you padded into the kitchen, dressed in Javi’s clothes, the agent felt his throat dry up. You were a sight to behold. You smelt distinctly like him, but you already looked one thousand times better now that you were clean and comfortable. You felt better, too. It was amazing what a bath could do to you. You shimmied onto one of the bar stools Javier kept by the counter and rest your elbows against the laminate. Javier passed you the menu so you could look over the dishes.

You agreed on a simple chilli pizza, which was one of Javier’s favourites anyway. Javi called the deli and asked for a large, planning on sharing it with you. Remembering that you’d mentioned you were thirsty, he poured you a glass of water and handed it your way.

“Steve is gonna be so mad at me tomorrow,” Javier chuckled, rubbing his temple. You peeked up from the glass that you nursed and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I promised him paella and I’m not gonna be able to make it tonight. Not only that but he’s gonna ask me where I’ve been. He’ll know I wasn’t out getting groceries for three hours.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together and tilted your head. “Three hours? Where were you?”

Javier paused and absent-mindedly brushed a finger along his mustache. “I bumped into an ex at the store. Went back to her place and-- you know.”

Your eyes fell back into your glass of water. “Oh.”

Javier picked at his short fingernails and another sigh left his lips. “Shit, I just--” he shook his head. “Made a mistake. A very big mistake.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yeah, that would probably be for the best but how could he even begin to tell you what happened, when you were part of the problem? Javier figured it might even scare you away. “It doesn’t matter… she’s just…” Javier scratched his head. “She’s fine. It’s a ‘me’ problem, I think.”

The doorbell rang and Javier was grateful for the interruption. He paid the pizza delivery guy and sent the stone bake on the table.

“It looks good,” you smiled. “I’ve never had Colombian pizza.”

Javier’s jaw dropped. “You--?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Dulzura, how long have you lived here?”

“A month,” you grinned, with a mouthful of pizza. “Tastes good.”

After you’d finished eating, it had gotten pretty late. You and Javier exchanged small talk, learning little things about each other. You liked it a lot. He had always been an enigma to you, and even though he offered little information, it was still something, and you appreciated that a lot.

“It’s been a difficult day,” Javier noted, folding the pizza box and throwing it away to be recycled. “You should take my bed.”

“No,” you insisted. “I’m fine on the sofa. Honestly.”

Javier sighed. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the sofa any longer. You’ll get back ache.”

“Then I’ll just use your bath salts.” You smirked in retaliation. Javier laughed and you relished the way small crinkles appeared in the corner of his honey coloured eyes.

“Please, take my bed.” Javier said, staring at you pointedly. His eyebrows were raised and his strong arms were crossed over his chest.

You were about to argue further but truthfully, sleeping in a bed tonight sounded like exactly what you needed. You took a few steps closer to Javier, a pool of butterflies swirling in your stomach as you broke any distance between you both. You wanted to kiss his lips so desperately, taste him once again. It was only earlier today you’d had your lips wrapped around his cock, and yet, so much had happened in between then and now. You wondered if Javier was thinking about it too.

“Get some sleep, hermosa.”

Your eyes were completely trained on his soft pink lips. You wanted to kiss-- you just wanted to kiss him. Just one kiss. Just one-- you leaned in and shut your eyes, and neared him, closer and closer... but Javier stepped away.

And you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

“Nothing personal,” he told you. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Nothing personal? How were you meant to accept that? You had literally sucked him off just a few hours ago and now he wouldn’t even grace you with a kiss? Maybe Rosa was right; you shouldn’t form crushes on clients. Especially not Javier Peña. You’d only get hurt. You tugged on the sleeves of his button down shirt and balled your fingers into a fist, trying to ignore the pain in your chest.

Without uttering a word, not even a ‘goodnight’, you sulked away and into his bedroom.

Javier wanted to shout out. He didn’t want you to be mad at him, or even upset. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. It took him all the strength he could muster to deny you of that kiss. Your perfect lips looked so soft and delicate and if Javier could have it his way, he would’ve taken you in that very moment.

But you were more than just a sex worker now. You were a compliance in the hunt to catch Escobar -- and he had to be careful. No matter what, he couldn’t risk losing track of the bigger picture.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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iwillbeinmynest · 3 years

Text

Safer Behind It - Newt x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: Well here it is my first Maze Runner fic! Hopefully y'all like it, or at least don’t hate it. This is based on moments from The Scorch Trials (book). Bold words are direct quotes from the book. I do not take any credit for Dashner’s work.

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes/Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of violence, mentions of trauma (from the maze), some fluff and angst if you look hard enough.

Masterlist

Jorge found them after the lightning storm. Eleven new faces in the building on the outskirts of town. You listened as Jorge gave them the rundown of how things were going to go. When he called for the rest of you, you followed Brenda close.

You and Brenda hadn’t known each other too long but she was good and you trusted Jorge more than anything.

One of the new kids- a boy with dark hair- asked for a few minutes with Jorge.

“Me and you,” The kid begged. He stood over another boy who looked like he had been fried by lightning. Maybe he had, that storm was brutal.

“Ten minutes. Alone. That’s all I ask.” He went on.

You were surprised when Jorge agreed. He must have seen something in the kid you didn’t.

He told you and the others to watch this new group and to kill them if they made any moves. You knew he was being dramatic, adding the threat of death to remind the other Cranks behind you that he was in charge.

One of the boys you were supposed to be watching caught your eye. He was blonde and thin. He had a limp - you’d noticed it as he walked over and checked on the others in his group.

Brenda caught you staring at him. “Careful, Y/N.” She said quietly so the Cranks couldn’t hear her.

You rolled your eyes. “I can handle myself.”

“He’s not gonna like it if you don’t keep up the facade.”

“What’s he gonna do, have you run me through?” You tested.

You saw the twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “Just don’t be stupid.”

You tugged up on the thin, tan, scarf that covered your nose and mouth. You didn’t like it to be down.

You walked over to the limping boy. You say boy, but really he was near your age if not a bit older. “You need to sit down,” you told him.

He looked at you carefully. “I’m just making sure these guys are alright.”

His voice sounded funny but you kinda liked it.

“I’m not going to ask again.” you drew the makeshift dagger you had from where it usually was sheathed at your lower back.

He sighed but sat on the hard concrete next to the fried boy. He pulled a knee to his chest and mumbled, “Bloody shank girl.”

You smirked at that.

“What’s your name?” You asked him.

He looked up at you and there was no hiding the annoyance in his eyes. “Newt.”

“Newt?” You almost laughed. “Like the lizard?”

The boy next to him chuckled.

“No.” Newt huffed. “Like Issac Newton.”

“I think I like my reason better, lizard boy.”

“Hey!” One of the Cranks behind you caught your attention. It was an older man, you didn’t know his name but you knew you didn’t like him. “What are you talkin’ so much about?”

“None of your business, old man.” You turned to him and left no room for him to think you might be afraid of him, which you weren’t.

“Back off, Murph.” Brenda said calmly as she whacked the flat side of her machete on his chest. “Let her have some fun before we rip them to shreds.”

It seemed to tide him over and he walked away but not before he stared you down again.

You rolled your eyes when his back was turned and exhaled a silent groan. You looked to Brenda.

She had her eyebrows raised and was clearly waiting for you to say,

“Thank you.” You muttered.

“Mhm.” She grinned. You knew she’d never say it out loud but she was starting you like having you around.

You turned back to Newt and crouched down, your sharpened letter opener gripped tightly in your hand. “So, tell me, Newt, What brings you out into the Scorch?”

“Don’t tell her klunk, dude.” The burnt boy said with spunk.

“I bet you’re the fun one.” You teased him, “You look like garbage. What happened to you?”

“He got struck by lightning,” Newt answered, “Or close to it anyways.”

“Yikes.” You responded. You’d been right.

“Didn’t even hurt.” He lied.

“Shuck off, Minho. You’re not fooling anyone.” Newt rolled his eyes.

“Screw you, man.” Minho all but pouted.

“Why do you cover your face?” Newt asked, ignoring his friend. “No sun in here.”

You paused but tried to cover it and said, “So you don’t get distracted by how pretty I am.”

He smirked at that.

He had a nice smile. It lit up his eyes.

You stood up quickly and walked back to Brenda. Why did you care what his smile was like?

“You good?” She asked low again.

“Fine.” You lied. Actually you were scared by how much you were starting to like Newt. No sense in hurting yourself by getting attached.

Jorge and the dark haired boy reappeared from down the back hall.

Jorge told everyone that he, Brenda and yourself were going to take these few to get some food and that you’d all meet back up at the tower.

You didn’t know what he was planning but it had to be something, because he was putting on quite a show. He mentioned cutting off Minho’s fingers for punching him earlier and you honestly thought he might be serious about that part.

The other Cranks left and you walked behind Brenda as she led the way to the tunnels where you had hid the stash of food.

You helped pass out cans of food and watched as Brenda sat by Thomas - you’d recently learned his name.

You looked around, wondering where to settle amongst these new boys and found Newt looking at you.

“Here goes nothin’” you muttered to yourself beneath your mask.

You made your way over and sat against the wall beside him.

“Enjoying the meal?” You asked. He sure looked like he was.

He nodded, mouth full of cold beans.

“When was the last time you ate?” You realized that he, and everyone else that he’d come with, were eating like they’d been starved.

“Not but a few days ago,” He said when he’d finally swallowed. “But we were out in that bloody heat for so long.” His eyes stared into nothing for a moment and you could tell he was reliving something awful.

“How long were you actually out there?”

“Three, four, five days,” he asked himself. “I’m not sure.”

“Where did you come from?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He returned to the present and out of the bad memories he’d been replaying. You watched him plaster on a smirk.

There was that smile again. You were glad your cheeks were covered because you were pretty sure you were blushing.

“Do I get to ask you any?”

You nodded, “Sure.”

“Why do you wear that over your face?” He repeated.

“Why do you care?”

His head ticked to the side. You’d asked another question.

You relented. “I already told you.”

“But we both know that wasn’t the truth.” He said before taking another bite.

You sombered and sighed. You were trying to find the words.

“I only partly lied.” You finally said.

Newt stopped eating and shocked you with what he said next. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business if you don’t want to talk about it.”

It was so...considerate of him to say that. It had been a long time since anyone other that Jorge was considerate to you. Even Brenda was harsh when you’d met her and she still makes comments about it.

The look in your eyes must have revealed something to him.

“You really don’t have to tell me.”

For some reason you did, though. Maybe it was his soft voice, maybe it was the random kindness he’d displayed, but suddenly, you wanted to show him. Almost like a test to see if he was genuinely kind at heart.

You slipped your index finger under the cloth near your nose but before you pulled it down you said, “Just...brace yourself.”

You pulled the mask down below your chin, revealing the angry red scar that ran from your upper lip, just below your nose, all the way to your ear, which had a notch missing from it.

Newt barely flinched. He just looked at you.

Your scar had healed thick which made it distort your lip slightly.

“When I was first sent here, after finding out I had the Flare, a crank attacked me with a shard of glass. He got me pretty good but Jorge was there and he saved me. He couldn’t do much to make me look better, though.” You pulled your mask back up. “Most people just stare at it, instead of me. So, I cover it up.”

“You shouldn’t.” He offered a hint of a smile as he switched to his second can of food. “Nothing wrong with the way you look.”

You sat stunned.

“I broke my leg in three places. That’s why I have a limp. Do you only see the limp when you look at me?” He asked.

You shook your head, unable to think of anything to say.

He shrugged his shoulders. “See?”

You bit down a smile that threatened to spread across your mouth. Good thing your mask was on.

“I’m sorry I called you lizard boy.” You felt bad for teasing him, now.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been called worse.”

The two of you sat in silence for a short while. Then, you wondered something.

“What’s a shank?”

He chuckled, “Just something we say. Why?”

“Back in the building you called me a ‘bloody shank girl’.”

His cheeks flushed and he stared down at the can he was eating from. “Sorry.”

“So, shank isn’t nice then?”

“Depends…” He smirked, almost embarrassed he’d said that about you.

“And here I thought you were soft.”

He looked at you. “Nope, just wrong on occasion.”

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You suddenly realized you’d never told him your name and now you wanted him to know it. To say it.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He paused a moment before adding, “ I have a feeling I won’t regret it.” He glanced over at you again.

“You won’t.” You promised.

* * * * * * * *

TMR Tags:

@mo320

#tmr #the maze runner #the scorch trials #newt x reader #reader x newt #new muse #tmr newt imagine #tmr newt x reader #tmr thomas #tmr minho #brenda #jorge

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

The Gift (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Gift Rating: PG-13 Length: 2200 Warnings: None. Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in January 1997. This is part of the “big angst” that will be covered over this weekend and Monday. Summary: Reader considers the gift Javier gave her.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501@fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim@amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @ct-arc-5555 @cable-kenobi

“Do I really want to open this can of worms?” You questioned, running your hand over the subtle curve of your stomach. “I think your daddy really wants me to.” You sighed heavily and sank back in your office chair. Your gaze flickered towards the stack of manila envelopes sitting on top of your file sorter. They had been sitting, right there, since your first day back after Laredo.

You had gotten Javier an engraved ring; the day you met, your birthdate, his, Josie’s, and enough room for the new baby’s birthdate. Javier had gotten you a stack of FOIA’d files from the DEA. Every mention of your name on the Pablo Escobar case. Every contribution you made to the Cali Cartel investigation. Buried within that bundle of files was also, as Javier had explained, incriminating evidence that the DEA had intentionally concealed your efforts.

Swallowing thickly, you pulled one of the files off the sorter. You bent the metal clasp straight and pulled it open. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you stared down at the painfully familiar letter heading.

Colombia felt like a lifetime ago.

That last year with the DEA had been a living hell.

Working for the Miami PD had been a breath of fresh air. You had a team that supported you, supervisors who respected you and valued you… You never had that with the DEA. Javier and Steve had been the only two at the DEA who seemed to give a shit what you said. You spent your entire career working five times harder than every man, only to get an eighth of the credit.

Or none.

You got up out of your chair, heading over to shut the door to your office, pulling the blinds shut on the little glass window. You sank back down in your seat, staring at the stack of neatly stacked papers that had been tucked into the folder.

Five folders symbolized the culmination of years of effort. From 1987 to 1993.

You leaned forward and pressed the speaker button on your desk phone, before clicking the speed dial button for Javier’s office. It rang once before he picked up, his voice exactly what you needed to hear right then. “Hello?”

“Hey, Javi.”

“Hey baby, I was just thinking about you.” Javier said warmly. “What’s up?”

“I finally opened the files and... “ You laughed quietly, “I guess I’m a little hormonal right now.” You rubbed under your eyes as you looked down at the top sheet of paper. “Just seeing my name and the DEA is… blast from the past.”

“You were the best goddamn agent they ever had in Colombia. And you know it.”

“Of course I know it.” You rolled your eyes. “I had to put up with you and Murph. I had to be good.”

“You took down Carlos Lehder on your second day, baby. Do you have any idea how many years that asshole spent evading US forces? Second day and you fucking bag him. How many years has it been? Cause I’m still proud of you for that.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his praise. Your fingers trembled as you flipped through the pages. “What were you thinking that night?”

“Hmm?”

“At the bar. I still remember this look you had… I couldn’t figure it out.” You recalled, brows furrowed as you flipped to a page of reports that had Javier’s horrible handwriting printed between the margins.

“You really wanna know?”

“Sure.” You looked towards the phone. “Was it good?”

“Well, yeah.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and chuckled. “What do you think I was thinking about, baby?”

“I figured as much.” You grinned, rubbing at the back of your neck as you settled back in your chair. “Damn… jealous since day one. Javier, have you always had a heart?”

“If you hadn’t been so fucking… you.” Javi huffed softly.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you shuffled through the pages, you could hear the soft inhale and exhales coming from him on the other side of the line. You wished he were there with you, flipping through years of work together. But he’d gifted them to you to do with as you wished.

“You trust this journalist?”

“He uncovered the whole Tailhook Convention scandal.” Javier sighed heavily. “And that was a shit show.”

“Yeah. I remember reading about it.” Trust the Pentagon to try to cover up a massive sexual assault scandal among their good ole boys. “So he’s good. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, but… is my story even that important?”

“Baby…”

“I’m just one agent that got royally fucked over by the DEA. Doesn’t it seem a little narcissistic to think I’m so important that I need to have my name printed?”

“Steve told me.”

“Told you what?”

Your heart sank.

Javier sighed. “After you left the bar that night. I didn’t realize what he was doing, but in hindsight… I get it now.” He was silent for a moment, before he continued. “You wanted to make a name for yourself. That’s what you told him, right?”

“I mean… Yeah.” You tucked the files back into the folder and reached for the second, peeling it open and dumping them out. There was a stack of square photos with a rubber band wrapped around them. Pictures from stakeouts, late nights… Steve was always documenting everything. He loved that goddamn camera.

They always had to go into the case files, except for a few you had stolen. “I mean… that’s why I volunteered for Colombia. No one else was crazy enough to go there and I thought… that’s my shot.”

“And it was. You could’ve had it all, baby. But I—”

“Were the best partner a girl could ask for, Javi. You and Steve were so good at your jobs.” You smiled wistfully down at a picture of the three of you. You had Javier’s aviators on and were wedged in between the two of them. “I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything. I don’t need my name in the history books.”

“But what about everyone else? What about Josie and the baby? What if they want to follow in their mother’s footsteps.”

“God, I hope they don’t want to be DEA.” You laughed, “Good parents don’t let their kids grow up to be feds.”

“You’re avoiding the topic.”

“If we start this, we have no idea where it’ll go, Javi. An article like this… it’ll have ramifications.” You cautioned. “Everything with the DEA comes at a cost.”

“This was your dream.” Javier pressed. “They cut you out. Completely. You know it, I know it, Steve knows it…” He sighed heavily. “Just call the guy. See where he wants to take this. He already knows the jist of this shit.”

“I know.” You sat the photos aside and went through a stack of neatly typed notes that you had taken towards the end of the case. Some of the last stakeouts the three of you went on together. Good memories. Really good memories.

“What do we do, Javi? Do we tell them everything? You, me… the kids? There’s a lot more to this story than just me being cut out.” You pushed your fingers through your hair. “And Steve…”

“Knows what I got you for Christmas. He helped me get them FOIA’d.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and you wished you could see his face. “He’s willing to burn the place down, baby. Just say the word.”

“What is he going to do?” You questioned. “They’ve got two little girls.”

“He’s got plans to open his own consulting firm. He’s playing it by ear.” Javier told you, “He’s not thrilled with the DEA either.” He sighed heavily, “I’ve got this faculty meeting in a couple minutes, but… Do you want to meet for lunch at Demetrio?”

You tucked the files back away in the envelope, picking up the business card with the journalist’s name on it. “Yeah. Lunch sounds like a good idea. I think I’m gonna call this guy…”

“I’m proud of you.”

“I know you are.”

——

You passed your menu to the waiter, offering him a polite smile, “I’ll just do the omelet. You can put the sausage on a side plate for him.”

“Something besides water?”

“Hot tea. Breakfast.” You looked towards Javier who was still mulling over the menu. “You know you like their Monte Cristo, just order that.”

“I’m not sure if I want sweet.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck.

“The spicy eggs were good.” You recalled, taking the menu from him and looking it over. “Spicy Morning.” You pointed it out to Javier. “Something like that?” You gave the waiter a sympathetic smile.

“I’ll do the empanada special.” Javier finally decided, “Coffee instead of tea.”

You rolled your eyes after the waiter left, “Really? I thought you hate how their empanadas were made.”

He shrugged, scratching at his jaw. “I’m willing to give them a second chance.” Javier looked towards you then, “Are we going to do this?”

“I think I’m ready.” You chewed on your bottom lip as you reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I called him. We spoke a little and… I felt good about it?”

Javier held your gaze, “You can stop at any time.”

“I know I can, but… I do think this is the right thing to do. Someone has to stop it, right? And I mean… They’ve got assholes like Chris working for them, but me? I get the ax? It’s bullshit.” You squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, “So it was a good Christmas gift?”

You laughed, “I know I didn’t seem very appreciative.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “But I am.”

God were you glad he had suggested exchanging gifts in private. Opening a box to find a stack of manila envelopes containing the sum of your efforts in Colombia had not been your ideal gift. It was one of the few times you’d raised your voice — and you couldn’t really do that with Chucho sleeping down the hall.

It wasn’t until Javier gave you the chance to calm down that you realized just how profound the gift had been. Two years ago you had come completely unglued because of the DEA. Finding out that your name had been struck from every file had been a painful realization. Javier had listened to you, remembered it, and worked to find a way to rectify it.

If you had any doubts about how he felt about you, that gift would’ve made it abundantly clear. But you knew how he felt about you, about the life you shared with him. It had been a remarkably thoughtful gift.

“I’m just scared.” You admitted to him, rubbing your lips together thoughtfully. “We both know what happens when you go up against the government. They are ruthless.”

“I know, baby.” Javi squeezed your hand three times, before you both had to make room for the waiter’s return with the drinks. He sat Javier’s coffee down in front of him and your tea in front of you.

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re good, thank you.” You smiled, before looking back to Javier. “You know, when I got into the government — the DEA — I never pictured myself going down this path. Calling journalists, setting up tell-alls.” You curled your fingers around your mug,

“When I went to Colombia, I didn’t think I’d come home with a family.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck as he took a sip of coffee.

You nudge his foot under the table. “Me neither.” You shook your head with a laugh. “We should fuck with them next Christmas. Send the Bogotá office a Christmas card with the four of us.” You stroked the curve of your belly. “The reporter had a lot of questions about us.”

“Really?”

You nodded with a sheepish grin. “I guess the human interest side of the story has some appeal.” You tapped your foot against his ankle. “I’m sure there will be scrutiny about us. We work together for what? Five years? Did nothing really happen before Steve left?” You rolled your eyes.

“We had tremendous self-control.” Javier chuckled, shaking his head as he scratched at the side of his jaw. “You don’t think they’d believe that?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “The thought of living in a fishbowl is a little terrifying. I already had the DEA turning over every aspect of my life.” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, looking away.

“How bad did it get?”

“Oh, they looked to see if I had any impropriety prior to Colombia. But,” You snapped your fingers and shot finger guns at Javier. “You were the only partner I was ever involved with… well, I mean Lance was working with the DEA. Does he count?”

Javier rocked his jaw and huffed. “I don’t think he counts.”

“That’s because you don’t like thinking about me with him.” You raised your brows, giving him a look. “I should probably call him and tell him about this article.”

“Do you talk?”

You shook your head, “Not since that day he was at the office. But I don’t want him blindsided.” You brushed the topic aside. “Are we really ready to face Colombia like this, Javi? I mean, this isn’t something small. This is The Washington Post… front page.”

“I’m ready if you’re ready, baby.”

“I think I am.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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29-pieces · 5 years

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The Sword and the Shield

Unapologetic self-indulgent BAMF Aziraphale fanfic :)

~*~

The Sword and the Shield

Crowley has only seen Aziraphale do this once before.

The evening had been a pleasant one up until that point. Crowley enjoys not having to hide themselves anymore, now that Heaven and Hell have decided to leave them alone. The cry for help splitting the night air isn’t one they could have ignored, though, and that’s how the demon and the angel have found themselves here, on a poorly lit road staring down the barrels of a couple pistols. The men on the other side of those pistols are clearly angry that the pair haven’t hurried to excuse themselves yet.

“Keep walking, grandpa!” one of them shouts at Aziraphale, pressing the gun into the angel’s cheek. “Or eat a bullet!“

But a third man stands just behind the other two, mid kidnapping, so they aren’t going anywhere. The young woman he’s got around the middle is kicking and screaming and sobbing, fighting with all she’s got to not be thrown into the back of the van she’s being helplessly dragged towards. If they get her in that van, Crowley is sure she’ll never be heard from again. He’s sure their plans for her are more evil than anything he would have ever dreamed up on his evilest day.

The three men have ignored Aziraphale’s demand that they release her. Before the night is over, they’ll wish they’d done as the angel commanded.

"I said,” Aziraphale repeats, normally good-natured voice now low and dangerous, “let the young lady go. I must warn you, I will not ask a third time."

"We ain’t got time for this,” the man holding the woman snarls. Crowley has surmised this is the ringleader of the group. “Arnie, shoot the grandpa. Murph…"

The one pointing the gun at Crowley cocks his head, waiting for the command. Crowley is still and silent, unconcerned. He knows something the humans don’t.

The ringleader’s eyes rake over Crowley and his mouth twists into a lewd smirk. "Not Red,” he decides. “Grab that one to take wiv us. I can sell a body like that, eh, Red? There’s a market for all kinds."

Still Crowley doesn’t move. He considers snapping his fingers and breaking this man’s neck, but he’s felt the shift in the air. Aziraphale hasn’t shown a bit of shock at the gun in his face, like he had in the church in World War Two. He hasn’t made a single comment about the inconvenience of discorporation, like he had in the cell during the French Revolution.

What he has done is clench his fists. There’s a crackle in the air, a charged intensity that wasn’t there before. Crowley can read the signs. And he knows how this is going to end.

The angel doesn’t twitch as Arnie grabs him by the front of his coat, tapping Aziraphale’s lips with the gun.

"Open your mouth,” the man commands with a cruel glint in his eyes, the kind that Hell can’t compete with because humans have more capacity for evil than demons.

But he’s still just a human and he doesn’t know the mistake he’s made, and it’s already too late. So Crowley doesn’t move to help either himself or the angel because there’s no need.

Aziraphale’s eyes are brighter now but his face has darkened, the contrast growing until he’s a pillar of glowing light and shadow. Somewhere overhead, thunder rumbles a deep, guttural growl. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.

The gun begins to glow as well, hotter and fiercer until Arnie drops it with a yelp, clutching his burned hand while his partner does the same. Arnie’s eyes whip back up to Aziraphale, who hasn’t moved.

“What-”

“Crowley,” the angel says, quite calmly. Somehow, his calm is even more intimidating than a raging fury would be. He’s in perfect control.

“Mm?"

"Take the young woman."

All three of the men seem to be struggling to move now, grunting and straining against the invisible force that holds them. Crowley tilts his head in Aziraphale’s direction.

"Angel… are you sure?” Not that the woman shouldn’t be protected, of course she’ll have to be. But if Crowley handles that, then the other part of the job falls to Aziraphale, and this is an ugly business.

Aziraphale closes his eyes and takes a breath. Crowley will wait; he doesn’t mind doing the dirty work to spare the angel the trouble. But then Aziraphale opens his eyes again, and they’re flooded with dazzling white light that illuminate the area and draw baffled, nervous curses from the three men.

“Quite sure."

Crowley nods, accepting the answer. He regards the woman, surrounded by men who would force her to be a commodity for men. Before approaching, he gives himself a shake. By the time he reaches her, his spiked red hair is in soft, loose curls; his jeans have become a smart skirt and tights. His glasses have gone several shades darker, just to be safe, and he speaks to her in the same gentle, effeminate voice as Nanny Ashtoreth.

"Come, dear,” he murmurs, plucking the struggling girl from the grasping arms of her frozen kidnapper. “You’re safe now, there there. They’ll not come near you ever again."

She’s sobbing but the shift in his appearance makes her feel safer, as intended, and she clings to Crowley as he pulls her further back, away from the men. He angles the young woman the other direction, putting himself between her and the others.

"What is this?” the ringleader shouts, paralyzed but for his eyes and voice. “What are you?"

"I am the angel Aziraphale."

Thunder rumbles again and even Crowley feels goosebumps. The young woman inhales sharply, looking between the man with the glowing eyes and the rescuer she’s clinging to. Crowley nods at her unasked question.

"Real live angel,” he assures her. “He’ll take care of them.” Really he ought to get the girl away from here, but he also isn’t sure he wants to leave Aziraphale like this. Not because the angel is any danger, quite the reverse, but because Aziraphale will need him afterwards.

“You’re not,” Arnie blusters, eyes flicking down to the gun he clearly longs to scoop back up. “There’s no such thing! They’re not real, I tell you!"

A wind picks up from nowhere; Aziraphale’s coat billows around him. His internal glow is so bright now that the shadows are gone. The street might as well be in the full light of day from Aziraphale’s power, a dazzling figure with a grim face. His eyes are pools of radiance but his brow is furrowed. This is not a war the men will survive.

And now his head turns to Arnie. Crowley’s sharp nose tells him the man has wet himself.

"Confess your sins,” Aziraphale commands. He doesn’t raise his voice, as soft as ever, but the words are full of glass shards and the edges of holy blades, and the baying of hounds. The angel raises his hand and Arnie sinks to his knees.

“Please, it wasn’t me!” Arnie is blubbering, tears streaking down his face. “It was Kev’s idea. It’s his operation."

"Arnie, shut your mouth!” the ringleader roars.

“Tell me what you have done."

And he does. Every detail, how he lures their victims in with false promises, how they organize the sales. Maybe he thinks it will save him. Maybe he’s compelled by the angel’s power. It doesn’t matter, because in the end, Arnie collapses to the ground and he doesn’t move again.

Aziraphale burns brighter.

And then he turns to Murph, the man who’d dared point a gun at Crowley.

"Confess your sins."

"I’m not telling you anything!” Murph seethes, and it’s not a wise decision.

The angel’s fists clench tighter as Crowley cradles the girl’s head against his shoulder, shielding her gaze from Aziraphale, who shines like the sun and could do just as much damage. Above them, lightning cracks the sky, thunder booming loud enough that Crowley feels it reverberate in his chest.

“It won’t hurt you,” he whispers to the woman they’ve rescued. “Don’t be afraid.” Huh. Who would have ever thought the whole ‘be not afraid’ line would be his responsibility? He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, the kind that had always soothed Warlock when he was frightened by a storm.

Aziraphale hasn’t moved but somehow he’s standing in front of Murph. This time when he speaks, his voice is the thunder.

“Confess.” And wings erupt from his back, crackling in the electric heat.

The human breaks down, collapsing in a heap of soiled pants and groveling as he tries to grab Aziraphale’s legs. “You’re not real,” he groans. “You’re not real, you’re not real…"

"I assure you, I am. How many others have you taken?"

"Murph, don’t you dare say a word,” the ringleader snarls.

But Murph has finally realized the one he ought to be afraid of isn’t Kev, it’s the radiant warrior they shouldn’t have challenged. With terrified sobs and many pleas, he tells them about the warehouse in the seedy part of town where seventeen more women are being kept for the “industry”.

“I repent, I repent!” he clamors once he’s revealed all. “Angels, ain’t- ain’t they supposed to show mercy?"

Crowley wants to roll his eyes. This man hasn’t been reading the right Bible.

"Mercy belongs to God,” the angel intones as the wind picks up power, and in his fists he’s holding fire. “And tonight, I am not God’s mercy."

He raises his head.

"I’m her sword."

Murph collapses in a heap, cold and still.

It’s Kev’s turn, but his face is set in a sneer and he shakes his head as much as he’s able. "I ain’t scared of you."

Aziraphale is standing before him. "Yes,” he replies, lightning crackling out from his body, the power of Heaven channeled through his angelic form. “You are."

The woman shaking in Crowley’s arms clings tighter to him, but she’s moving her head as though to raise it. He quickly sets a hand on the back of her neck to cradle her in closer.

"No, dear,” he murmurs in the same soft, feminine voice, shielding her from the blinding light bursting from the angel in golden plumes. “Don’t look. It’ll only hurt your eyes."

She sniffles and nods, burrowing her face in the folds of his coat. "Are you another angel like him?” she questions, barely audible with her face hidden.

Crowley watches Aziraphale, who stands with wind billowing in his coat and lightning crackling over blinding wings, with fists clenching to bring the rumbling thunder, with eyes lit with white hot power and an expression of ethereal rage. Crowley doesn’t know when Aziraphale’s feet left the ground but he’s hovering.

“There are no other angels like him,” he replies.

Crowley has only seen Aziraphale do this once before. It was 1945, in a bunker in Berlin. No one had survived that one, either.

“Confess your sins.” His mouth didn’t even move this time. He’s the thunder in the night and the electricity in the air.

Kev shakes his head, clenching his jaw.

The mighty wings flap, just once, and Kev is on his knees. Aziraphale raises his fists that still hold flames.

“Crowley."

The demon nods, tucking his chin over the young woman’s head and adjusting so his back is solidly to the angel. He closes his own eyes, clenching them tight. "We’re good, angel."

He doesn’t see exactly what happens because that would likely kill him and they aren’t taking that chance. He only knows the light becomes so bright that he can see it from behind his lids, with his back turned, even through the dark glasses. He knows that Kev is looking at Heaven. He knows Heaven will burn away all that is evil and he knows that once the evil is gone there won’t be anything left, because that’s all Kev is.

Crowley thinks Kevin might have screamed, but the sizzling lightning and the roaring of wind is loud enough to cover the sound.

Then everything goes silent and still. It’s over. Crowley peels his eyes open and twists to see Aziraphale looking down at the three humans. His wings are gone, the glow receded so the scene has fallen back into darkness. Crowley would have relished killing these men, but even in the shadows he can see there’s no glee on the angel’s face, no righteous delight at smiting down evil. There’s only anger and disappointment.

The angel looks over his shoulder, not at Crowley and the girl, but at something the demon hasn’t seen yet.

"You may have them now if you wish."

I THOUGHT I MIGHT HAVE WORK HERE TONIGHT.

Ugh, that voice. Crowley protectively holds the girl, but the figure in dark robes isn’t here for her. Death glides past them, standing beside Aziraphale. He looks down at the humans as well.

SHALL I FINISH THEM OFF?

"I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do. Is it their time, or will you spare them?” the angel asks.

If it was possible for a skull to grin, Death would be doing so.

TO CONTINUE LIVING NOW WOULD BE CRUEL. YOU HAVE REMOVED THEIR EVIL AND NOW THERE IS NOTHING LEFT. THEY WOULD LIVE AS NOTHING.

“Indeed."

BUT THERE IS TORMENT ENOUGH WHERE THEY ARE GOING. I SHALL TAKE THEM WITH ME. FAREWELL, ANGEL AZIRAPHALE, GUARDIAN OF THE EASTERN GATE.

And then there is nothing but Crowley and Aziraphale, and a still trembling girl.

There is work to do now. They will have to return the woman to her family. They will have to find the warehouse with the others and free them as well.

And then they will have to drink. Crowley knows the angel can barely stand to kill even an insect, not that he himself had actually killed the humans. He will need some company for a while, and Crowley will provide that.

It is far too easy, Crowley reflects, to mistake Aziraphale as a helpless, hand-wringing bookshop keeper. It is far too easy, he thinks as he remembers Arnie pressing the gun to the angel’s face, to think him weak, prey. It is far too easy to forget he’s an angel who had carried a flaming sword and protected the first humans when the world was new.

It is far too easy to forget what that means.

Aziraphale chooses the appearance he gives, gentle and warm and full of hope and miracles instead of the power and wrath he carries in equal measure. It’s the role that suits him best. He’s love and hope incarnate. But he’s still an angel.

A good angel.

And demons run when a good angel goes to war.

#good omens #bamf aziraphale #protective crowley #will post to AO3 when I have a minute #fanfiction #oneshot #long post #the sword and the shield

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calsyee · 4 years

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@transmanscottsummers tagged me in this ‘about’ thing and while i don’t normally do these, he doesn’t usually tag me in them, so i figured i’d do it this time. i apologize in advance as this is a long post and i’m on mobile. also, i’m sorry to the people i’ve tagged, please don’t feel obligated to do this.

Nickname: Murph, Murf, and, notably, Shnen. No, I will not explain.

Zodiac Sign: Aries Sun, Taurus Moon, Sag Rising.

Height: 4’10”. Compact bastard.

Last Google Search: Uhhhh something Stardew Valley related because SV has eaten my life.

Song in My Head: “Queen of the Rodeo” by Orville Peck. Really, just, Orville Peck’s entire discography right now.

Followers: 110

Following: 102

Amount I Sleep: Hard to say. Theoretically I get about six hours, but in the grip of a hyperfixation the location of those hours can and will vary if I don’t have external structure requiring me to leave the house. I am...suffering...under quarantine, as a result, as I’ve hyperfixated on Stardew Valley and I haven’t gone to sleep before 2 a.m. for more than a week. Help me.

Lucky Numbers: 13, 7, and 1307. I was born on April 13th, and turned 13 on a Friday the 13th, and legend has it that my half birthday, 10/13, is the anniversary of the Friday the Thirteenth that saw the forcible disbanding of the Knights Templar in 1307 under the authority of King Phillip the Fair of France (“Fair” because he was blond, he was kind of a dick).

Dream Job: I want to be the mole person who lives in the walls at Marvel HQ and crosschecks comics for continuity and tells Jonathan Hickman that 3 years is just not a long enough span of time to have everything from 2003 to 2019 happening in comics, don’t say ‘3 years’ and then be surprised when it breaks somebody’s suspension of disbelief in your comic book whose plot arc hinges around the documented passage of time.

(if i can, in ten minutes, point out that

even just using canonical six month timeskips and character birthdays that were explicit about the age they were turning, you have to have at least five and a half years pass between the Genoshan genocide and the birth of the nation of Krakoa, and that’s without taking into account actual events happening in between the three six month timeskips I can name off the top my head, so, realistically, six or seven years need to have passed since Genosha, at minimum,

ya done fucked up, my dude.)

((quentin quire is 19+ years old and i will fight you on this))

Currently Wearing: white grey and beige plaid pajama pants and a bright pink “Genosha is For Lovers” t-shirt my partner made because they love me even though I’m a nerd who wants to yell continuity facts at comic authors for a living.

Favorite Songs: Uh this is too hard so I’m gonna go with favorite music videos instead, so, currently, “Summertime” by Orville Peck, “Born to Die” by Lana del Rey, “Judas,” “Marry the Night,” “You and I,” and “Stupid Love” all by Lady Gaga, “Formation” by Beyoncé, and “Ride” by Lana Del Rey would be on this list if not for the the basic “white-girl-wears-native-war-bonnet” bullshit toward the end. Damnit, Lana, why’d you have to do that shit to me?

Favorite Instrument: If you put a well-played fiddle part in a country song, I am here for it. “Devil Went Down to Georgia” owns my entire ass and I am not afraid to admit it.

Favorite Authors: JRR Tolkien, Chris Claremont, Louise & Walt Simonson (shut up, comic writers count, a comic book is a book so fuck you)

Aesthetic: I rocket between “Wolverinecore,” “casual friday Lex Luthor,” “mobster on vacation in Vegas or Miami,” and “background extra in a low-budget gonzo sci-fi movie.” Basically, if Orville Peck, Lil Nas X, or Hozier have been seen wearing something, I have probably looked at it and gone hm, yes, I will steal that look.

Tagging: @morethanonepage @orchidbreezefc @lickthatbattery @nonbinaryscottsummers

#holy shit this post got long #sorry about the digression in the middle i’m just really mad #quentin quire is not sixteen years old jonathan #about the murf #and i apologize to the folks i just tagged in this

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thenightling · 4 years

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The Dodged Bullet

Warning: This is deliberately bad!

The dodged bullet:

The following is the horrific notion of what would have happened if The CW, Fox, or Syfy adapted Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman instead of Netflix. This is going to poke fun of common tropes of Fox and CW shows. See if you can spot them all.

I am going to deliberately write this very, very badly.

The generically attractive young man in his early-twenties walked toward the crime scene. He wore a long leather jacket, designer sneakers, expensive brand-name jeans, and a stylish and perfectly fitted black polo style shirt under the jacket. It was rumpled but just so as to hint at what a great body he had under it. He had thick, dark brown hair. Brown eyes, a smoldering gaze and a dazzling smile. He’s Caucasian and generically attractive. He’s thin but not rake thin, more like sexy male model thin. He’s got muscle tone.

At the moment he looked stoic, hands resting in his pockets. He crosses the yellow crime scene tape without anyone stopping him. No one questions his presence but he is not invisible. This is “grounded” in reality, folks.

The Sandman solves crimes! The Sandman is a private investigator with a secret. He is a real Sandman! Hidden in his jacket is a leather pouch which will probably get used maybe once or twice an episode (budgetary reasons). And he gets confused by certain social cues and pop culture references but otherwise he��s just a generic hot guy.

He’s probably portrayed by a Tom Mison type. He might be American. There’s an English accent but it’s so slight (so hidden by Americanisms) that it’s almost undetectable. He approaches the pretty, ninety-pound, college age female detective with perfect, blond hair. She looks up at him.

“Hey, Murphy.” She says in a friendly tone. Yes, Murphy is his alias. She thinks he’s just eccentric and thinks he’s The Sandman but he gets results!

“Detective Walker.” He smiled with obvious affection. He crushes on her, pines for her. But she mustn’t ever know the truth. It is forbidden for one of his kind to be with a mortal. Even if she is a Vortex. And her great power may one day destroy the world… or save it! That’s the real reason he was here, to watch her. He had never expected to fall in love with her…

The show has almost no scenes in The Dreaming and when there are it’s about 90% CG over green screen, like the Enchanted Forest sets of Once Upon a Time, or the under-whelming Hell of Lucifer. There’s probably a throne room with a starry night sky behind it, and an under-whelming “vast” library on par with Belle’s library in Once Upon a Time that will be shown very rarely.

“We’ve got another one.” She said gravely. “Eyes torn out. Pretty girl. Whoever this creep is- this predator must be stopped!” The implication here is the victims are all damsels who have been targeted by an evil man targeting them for misogynistic reasons. But don’t worry! The show is totally not sexist! Detective Rose Walker kicks ass! And in season four she’ll be raising her own long-lost little brother! Even though it’ll take her at least five seasons to learn Murphy’s secret (if she ever does).

“I thought the ‘me too’ movement would have at least reduced some of this.” She said with a shake of her head in disappointment at the world.

The line of dialogue doesn’t actually really make sense under easy scrutiny. Why would “Me too” actually make a serial killer reconsider his life choices? Oh, well, the audience doesn’t have enough time to question it.

“Me too?” The adorable, awkward, pretty “Murphy” questions.

“Boy! Where have you been? In a cave?” “Actually I was trapped inside a prison cell for a hundred and five years and before that I resided in another dimension.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not this again. Tell me you can at least figure something out with your ‘Dream powers’” she said cynically. He might have been insane and socially inept but he got results!

Morpheus knelt down next to the body and placed his hands on the corpse. There isn’t even any SFX for this. He’s just sensing something. He grunts in a sexy portrayal of sexy CW level pain.

“What? What is it?”

“I think I know who did this…”

“Who?”

“Corinthian…”

(Opening credits here. Maybe the opening riff of Enter Sandman by Metallica. No, wait, Fox and CW can’t afford that. It’s Mr. Sandman by the Charlottes! It kills the mood but everyone knows the song. You’ll be sick of it by episode five if you weren’t already. And it will get a LOT of use since the song is cheap / practically public domain.)

The next scene is not present day. It’s a flashback. And by flashback I mean a hastily put together set in Vancouver Canada. It’s probably someone’s private stables being passed off as a medieval village. No, wait. Its eighteenth century. There’s a sexy other character wearing slightly anachronistic style sunglasses hiding his eyes (No CG here, the production team figures the glasses are enough). In fact his eyes might not even be weird at all. He just likes sunglasses! There, that’s better, no wasted money here. He’s wearing a badly fitted white wig over white hair.

“My king,” the sunglassed man says with a bow. We have to be blunt for our easily distracted audience, so there’s the reminder that this is the dream king. “Thank you for letting me accompany you to the waking world. There are such delicious things here.”

“Yes, the food is rather pleasant.” Morpheus replies. His costume is decently fitted but obviously borrowed from another show, possibly a left over from Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Those props and some period costumes still get use. Isn’t Morpheus adorably oblivious, though?

Morpheus is wearing a dark blue frock coat and lace. His trousers are exceptionally tight to show off the actor’s perfect ass.

The Corinthian’s costume is cream colored. There was a behind the scenes fight and as small victory for the one crew member who actually read Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman in getting the cream outfit. Others working on the show wanted the costume to be black to make it more obvious he was the bad guy.

An attractive, tall, black man (probably American), under the age of thirty, is behind Morpheus. This is his loyal manservant, Lucien. But it’s totally not racist making the dreaming librarian / butler black when the show hasn’t had any black characters yet. No, it’s inclusive!

The attractive black man speaks. “My Lord, I think he intends to do harm to the mortals here.”

“Nonsense, Lucien. I’m certain it’s fine.”

The Corinthian wandered away from his master and he soon drags off attractive young female into an alley, hand over her mouth. No, The Corinthian isn’t gay anymore in this version. But it’s okay. Hob Gadling, Morpheus’ immortal friend (who now runs a bar for some reason) is gay! He’s very gay. In fact that’s the extent of his entire personality. But isn’t this diverse and inclusive?! And there’s no more problematic gay nightmare, even though in the original comics The Corinthian gets uncreated and the second Corinthian is a relatively decent guy for a nightmare.

After some persuasion Morpheus finally listens to Lucien and walks down into the alley. He stops in his tracks when he sees The Corinthian has killed the girl and his licking his fingers, having obviously already eaten her eyeballs (gotta keep that TV-14 rating!) He lets out a gasp. “Corinthian, what have you done?”

We cut back to present day and “Murphy” is walking into the bar owned by his friend, Hob Gadling . Hob sees him and smiles. “Murph, oh, honey, you look like Hell! Come sit down and tell me all about it. You know I love juicy gossip.” He says in a naisly, lisping voice.

Imagine this scene was written by some very straight guy whose only exposure to gay people were 1990s Will and Grace reruns.

Hob places a shot glass in front of Morpheus and Morpheus downs it quickly. “Have you seen Matthew?”

Matthew was Morpheus’ straight human friend and roommate. He had learned Morpheus’ secret in the pilot episode when Morpheus rescued him from a car accident using his dream magick. Ha! And you thought we’d have talking birds in this thing. Lol! No! Grounded, remember?

“Matt? Oh, sweetie, you can do better than him. I keep telling you, he’s just not your type.”

Morpheus raises an eyebrow but says nothing about the implication about his sexual identity. There will be a LOT of queer baiting on this show without confirmation in regard to his sexuality.

“I need to talk to him. One of my nightmares is loose in the city.” You can tell this was written by a New Yorker because they take for granted “The City” to mean New York.

“One of your Nightmares? Why couldn’t it be one of those sexy wet dreams?” Get it? Because if the character’s gay he has to always be horny!!! Ha-freakin’ –ha.

(Please know I don’t actually feel this way. I’m mocking bad TV writing. This whole thing is a spoof.)

There’s an awkward pause intended for the viewers to laugh.

“I don’t believe any water nymphs have escaped The Dream dimension.” Morpheus replied in confusion.

He calls it The Dream Dimension in the show because “The Dreaming” didn’t sound hip enough according to some executive.

“I’m afraid it’s The Corinthian. So now I have two problems.”

Hob nodded sympathetically. “The detective you might have to kill…”

“And now this.” This is an idiot proofed recap for people turning on the show late or just watching it in passing while doing other things or playing on their phone. CW does this sort of in-story forced, shoe-horned exposition all the time.

The episode plays out a little bit like an episode of Lucifer mashed into an episode of True Blood.

While they’re trying to find the killer, Detective Rose Walker meets Murphy’s roommate, Matthew, and the two hit it off while chatting about Murphy’s weirdness. They decide to start to date. As Morpheus has feelings for Rose that he won’t admit to this causes a strain between him and Matthew Raven (There’s that bird reference! What? That should be Lucien’s last name? Naw!) And between him and Rose Walker.

Morpheus lashes out rather than admit to what he is truly angry at and he and Matthew argue over something petty and this leads to recovering alcoholic Matthew to start drinking again as sad music begins to play.

Morpheus eventually finds The Corinthian and is forced to destroy him. He had to kill his own creation so he is kneeling in angst crying prettily while the sand left over from the uncreation slides through his fingers. Some new female cover of Queen’s Who Wants to live Forever? Is playing in the background. The original version is “too old” and too expensive for use. So here’s a very generic sounding cover done in a style that makes it blend in with every other pop song played during the forty five minute mark of a CW show’s run time (including commercial breaks).

The song plays as we cut to Matthew drinking alone sexily in an alley. He’s sweaty and wet, but he just looks like a wet fashion model. Morpheus is sexy crying over the sand that was the Corinthian, and Rose going to sleep prettily in her bed, no bed head here. Oh, and she sleeps in perfect makeup! There’s no scene where she even remotely looks like she’s out of makeup.

She’s having strange dreams but they look pretty mundane. Like real-world mundane. It’s her living room set that we probably saw a few minutes ago, just dimmer lighting and some haze to make it clear this is a dream. Because even with a show about The Dream Lord, dreams have to have an old fashioned camera fringe haze. Murphy is there with his back to her. He looks sad. He turns to look at her and she gasps. She sees a star (lense flare) from Murphy’s eyes in the dream as he looks at her in surprise like he wasn’t expecting her to see him. She wakes up with a gasp, and everyone in her apartment building also wakes up at the same time, signifying that their dreams were connected.

And so ends what was probably the third episode of CW (or Fox’s) The Sandman.

And that is pretty much how CW or Fox would have done The Sandman.

#The Sandman fan fiction #The Dodged Bullet

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johnandrasjaqobis · 5 years

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Find-the-Word tag

@elizabethsyson tagged me in things and sometimes I remember to do them (and like to pretend I’m a much more consistent writer than I actually am)

plus I like this game

I got given silent, sun, breath/breathe, and fear/afraid. And as per usual I will use spacecapades since it is my one actual original thing

(literally the second paragraph of the entire thing for the first word nice)

In Jarek’s experience, shopping centers were never supposed to be this eerie.

Since this kind rarely had any sort of set hours of operation — or, rather, they just never actually closed — the only time they were really silent was in the lull between the finished construction and the actual opening.

And, apparently, in the middle of a bomb threat.

***

There was a short pause. Haskan’s eyes had narrowed for a moment, and then she laughed sharply.

“Always the same, huh, Murph?” she said. “Can’t shake that even with that badge of yours.” She sat back down with a sigh. “I don’t know anything right now. We get plenty of complaints, plenty of vague threats. That’s just government around here. I’ll have a look back through some of the more...specific ones. Ask around. If I find something, I can let you know. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but sun take them, I do not appreciate someone blowing up my tunnels.”

***

Jarek was already getting out of breath from the walk, his shoulders weighed down by the slightly higher gravity. That didn’t seem like something people would get used to quickly, but it wasn’t like he had any personal experience with it before now.

***

The startled voices behind him didn’t register as much more than noise, and the sound of warning from one of the men holding rifles wasn’t anything important.

Isobel’s voice cut through it all like a razor:

“Stop.”

Donny felt his breath catch as he froze. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus while the all-too-familiar fear set in. There hadn’t been an episode in ages, he had been on his meds, he’d been dealing with it, and one damn word might bring that all crashing down around him.

SO for whoever wants to do the thing (be it original stuff or fanfic or whatever I love it all I will give uhhhh Hurt, near, run/running, and water

and my nemesis, tagging people (pls do it if you want to even if I don’t think to tag you, I love dumb writing games like this) @michiopa @keycchan @flannelshirtandjeans @genocidershodan @galtori @deprofundisclamoadte @absentlyabbie

#writing #spacecapades

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motherbuilt-blog · 6 years

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Drabble for @ragingicarus

She is older than her goodbye video and it shows in the way she looks. Hair is going grey and wrinkles starting to form showing it had been a while since their last talk. She has been in Monty’s updates and a few videos. This was the first video she’d made for Murphy since that goodbye though.

“Hey there stranger I bet you thought that the last video was all you got but you’re special enough I figured you deserve a sequel.” She lets out a laugh at her comment though tears start to fall as she laughs.

“I thought that video was all I was gonna give you but a few days ago I had a seizure. A few things had been happening leading up to it symptoms and shit. It’s all stuff that happened to my grandmother when she had a brain tumor. I know brain tumor big scary words but I’m okay it’s not pain it’s other stuff like my vision getting blurry or memory loss. “ She tries to explain though she stops letting out a bit of a laugh.

“Sorry I’m rambling it’s just all scary to say. I’m not afraid of dying I miss Roma, Mbege, Peter, and all the others so much I’m ready to be with them. I’m just scared of forgetting our memories of what I wanted to say. Thinking about the things I’d lose from my mind made me realize I had things I wanted to get off my chest before I forgot it all.”

She pauses for a moment and wipes away a few tears. “I really hope you’re alone I should have said that sooner sorry. I just I need to tell you things and I don’t want my daughter or any of our space family here for it. I just want it to be the two of us I would have done it face to face but I don’t think I have it in me to do this face to face.”

She pauses again and takes in a breath. “I told you I love you and I do but I was also in love with you. I think a part of me always was even as little kids who teased and stole each others toys. I didn’t realize it for a long time not until we kissed up on the ring. Kissing you I realized I had spent a lifetime in love with you. Part of me wishes I had told you but I am happy that I didn’t tell you now that I think back to it. It didn’t feel fair to Mbege who I loved them and still love now. It didn’t feel fair to Emori even if you weren’t together at the time. She is my family my beautiful sister that I love so much.”

Lou turns her head for a moment and wipes away a few tears. It’s not as bad as she thought it would be but she has been crying though most of it. “Sometimes I like to think in some other universe in another life we had our chance. We had our little life together and our happy ending it just wasn’t this one.In this life I got my beautiful girl and of course Mbege who I am ready to see I miss him so much. You- god you have Emori she’s perfect I love her so much she’s so pretty and smart she’s so perfect for you. I hope you two live beautiful lives together and that a long long time from now you can tell me how beautiful your lives were when we meet agai

“I know that tree of eden shit was never your thing but I do believe it. I believe we will meet again and be so happy all of us. Just don’t let that be before you’ve lived a long life okay? I miss you but I don’t want you ruining your chance with this new planet and your girl because you deserve a long peaceful life like i’ve had.”

“I’m sorry that I laid all this out on you I mean I’ve had what forty years to process it all but you didn’t even know. I just had to tell you all of it before I forget it all. It feels good to say it out loud I feel a weight lifted off my chest I feel... ready in a way. Take care of our family and my beautiful girl keep them safe- live a happy life.”

A genuine smile forms on her lips and tears stop falling. “I love you so much John Murphy and I can’t wait to see you one day. I know this is the part where I’m supposed to say may we meet again but I know we will so I’ll say something else.” She pauses for a moment and suddenly she thinks of Jasper and a grin forms on her lips. “I’ll see you on the other side, Murph.” She tells him before the video ends screen black. It’s her final video message to John Murphy.

#{{ v;; post season 5 au }} i found peace in my family #terminal illness tw #death tw #seizure tw #tumor tw

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pgeville · 5 years

Photo

▼▲▼▲▲▼▲▼ 03/15/19 A FREAKIN MAGICAL DAY ▼▲▼▲▲▼▲▼▲ \🍇/ PG's 6 year anniversary.- "beware the ides of March"

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ WE ARE EVERYWHERE NOW ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ \🍇/ The PG Documentary (by Murphy Sutton/Pionear Group) Web Release / 1st public Screening

.\🍇/The Return of PG / Pionear Group (PG 2.0) grand launch celebration.

\🍇/ Dope hip-hop show/celebration featuring members of Pionear Group, AYoHH, etc [ *KELO KADDAFI // WAYSIDE PALMISTRY /// NERO ANGELO // MURPHY'S HORIZON

|.\🍇/ 1st event at THE NARN (at BARNIA) -

CLICK GOING [if you are fairly certain you'll be there and we'll inbox you the address and parking instructions.) * parking is gonna be an issue, please carpool whenever possible. if the parking ends up getting out of hand we will have to start utilizing a park-and-ride situation, and shuttle people back to the majestic land of Barnia.

And please, drive with caution, there are freaking cats and ducks EVERYWHERE

▛▞▙▚▚▝▞▟▝▛▛▞▙▜▚▛▞▙▚▚

* The event starts at 7pm * The film screening will beging at 8pm

(an hour may seem like a lot but it ends up feeling tiny when you think about trying to get an unknown number of people parked and comfortable, and start the film, while it is a pretty likely scenario that in the 42nd minute of that hour we will have to accept an inevitability and begin shuttling some folks.

The runtime of the film is about a half hour and the music will begin shortly thereafter (around 8:45pm.)

Music = KELO KADDAFI / MURPHY'S HORIZON / WAYSIDE PALMISTRY / NERO ANGELO / +/We are really excited about this one and hope all you special people are able to make it.

●◐●◑●○●◌●◉●◍ HEADS UP(s) ●◐●◑●○●◌●◉●◍ shortened version of previous verbose mess... ▚▛▞▙▚▚▝▞▟▝▛▛▞▙▜▚▛▞▙▚▚▝▞▟▝▛▛▞▙▜

As this event is a "house show" it is going to be quite different than your average 2013-2018 PG show

...----------------------------------------------------------cool things about that *more freedom *bonfire, free vegan s'mores & hot doggies *B.Y.O.Whatever the fuck you want, and not get judged (within reason.) *Choose to not spend a dime, and not feel guilty *more intimacy, more honesty, more "i'm acting like a decent person because i am one." and less of "i'm acting like a decent person because i'm afraid of jail."----------------------------------------------------------things i'm worried about *where the fuck is everyone going to park? *Is this the day that the neighhbors establish themselves as something other than comrades? *It takes particular circumstances, and great number of us to create a positively memorable night, yet it only takes one single asshole in nearly any situation that exists to ruin it for everyone.this is the first broad event here, at "The Narn at Barnia," so we will all need to help out a bit. If you plan on attending just hit "going" so we can have an idea if there are enough people planning on attending that we might want to put a pause on the event page and cap the turnout. Oh yeah, and please skip this event if you don't care to see the film and are not a fan, supporter, or friend/family to the artists/musicians, organizers, we will without a doubt run out of seats for the screening, but - believe me - Murphy does phenomenal work, standing for 30 or so minutes will seem like nothing. (Yes, further screenings will occur locally.)If you plan on attending and you have questions, hit up Pionear Group or Todd, Murphy, or Nano. IF it's the day of the show and you haven't receieved the address let us know. We will be asking for a small donation that will help PG 2.0 get off the ground, help us pay off some of the debt from PG 1.0, and will hopefully get us one step closer to finding and securing a space for the PG community in the (not so distant) future. No one will be turned away for lack of funds, though; As most of you were aware, was also the case with the shows on Franklin St.plus, I'll say it one more time, Whenever possible PLEASE carpool, this is an important factor that will help this event go smoothly or the opposite. We will probably give you pretty in depth parking instructions. Please dont' get high on the day of the show, plug the address into your phone and expect it all to be easy. Nothings ever been easy and worthwhile simultaneously. we will try to have someone on hand to help oute vehicles around and please feel free to use St.Marks about a mile ddown the street as a park and ride we're looking into a place in the vacinity (deep west side) that could serve as a park and ride spot. ( A place to park where you can then be shuttled over to BARNIA for the event.)Please keep your alcohol, etc use under control and handled in a responsible/thoughtful manner. Thanks, fam!Cant wait to see you all.<3 PionEar Group - A Team, Murph, Elkshow, & Nano#WeAreEverywhereNow #PGLives #PionearGroup

#weareeverywherenow #pgeville #pglives #pionear #pioneargroup #pg

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totalfanfreak · 7 years

Text

One of Three - Chapter 9

One of Three

Chapter 9 – Switch in Perspective

Murphy had only been in a half sleep when he felt her begin to move. The sounds of the dog whimpering prickling his ears, as one eye languidly slid open. He laughed inwardly not wanting to embarrass Sera, somehow, in her trying to get close to them both she had fallen between the two mattresses, now stuck between the wedge.

"Fuck."

He had to turn in his pillow then, not wanting her to see his face. He felt her stumbling to the side finally getting out.

"We got to be quiet, Shep."

He heard another whimper and the dog's feet scuttling against the concrete floor, as if he were bouncing around. It took him a few minutes after that to realize there was no more noise. Pulling himself awake, he got up to look around finding him and his brother alone in the dark.

"Sera?"

He knew that had been pointless, the place colder, and empty. He got up and threw on some pants, she was probably looking for another bathroom, being too self-conscious to go with them a few feet away. Him and Connor were going to have to fix that damn commode in here. Searching the floors, he was getting more frantic with each door. What if she went outside? But why would she go out? Easily figuring out it was the dog, he went through the double doors, pulling the pea coat on tighter, wishing he had the sense to have put a shirt on with it.

The streetlights didn't help much but he tried to find some footprints in the snow. He didn't have the training or the patience to figure out if they were hers or not. Randomly picking a way he plodded along the sidewalk looking at the empty businesses and streets before rounding off the block and going the other way around back to the apartment. What if she did decide to run away? He remembered that look she had when telling him, the stiff panic, every muscle on her rigid, eyes glazed – off someplace else. And he could tell, she wasn't in fear for herself, it was them, him and his brother. But they'd show her it'd be all right, they'd look out for her. It's what they were meant to do.

Murphy always felt bashful thinking about it, like he was insane for believing in such a thing, but he knew better. And he knew the revelation given to him and Connor was the work of the Lord. He had told them both someone was coming, someone who'd care for them and they for her, someone who would understand and fully grasp what it was to become a woven part to them. They had experienced those shared premonitions before and they were never wrong and neither had that one, the very next day being where Sera had picked up Connor.

He found her propped against a phone booth, her back to him, dark auburn hair unbound and curling down her back. Murphy could make out the flecks of snow that had fallen on her as she moved under the streetlight; Sera wrapped herself tighter in what appeared to be Connor's coat, the tail of it reaching the tops of her knees. He watched her, afraid to approach, whoever she was talking to had her a bit riled her face and hands animate.

She was immersed enough in the call that if he did go up to her, he'd probably get hit his sudden appearance scaring her like it had before. So he stood back and watched, and he didn't mind, though he was curious to know who she was talking to this time of night. She had begun to nod, tucking back loose strands of hair that the glacial wind knocked into her face. With a final pull of her head she put the receiver back in its cradle, her attention going to Shep, whatever she said to him making him jump up to her the action causing her to laugh. It was a beautiful sound, reminding him of the wind chimes his Ma would collect, and along with her moaning he vowed to make her do it more. Shep began tugging at the leash, telling her to hurry up, but she stopped when she saw him.

"Murph? What're you doing out here?"

He shrugged, sheepish for being caught, elated at the shorter version of his name. "You were gone."

She wound the end of the leash around her knuckles, uncomfortable. "Shep woke me, he needed to go out, thought it'd be good to go for a walk."

Murphy's hands started twitching, and he cursed himself for forgetting his cigarettes. "Could've used our phone ye know."

Her eyes left his. "I know. I…it's just safer to use a payphone now. Not as easily traced."

"Would ye be mad if I asked –"

"Who I was talking to?"

He nodded, happy to have her figure it out so he didn't have to keep going.

"A friend, since I've got to leave the apartment, I needed a way to let Sapph know, and he calls Lilly a fair amount, I wanted him to know that I was safe."

"That's good, I'm glad ye got someone who looks out fer ye all. Did she, um, know ye from before?"

Sera nodded, eyes flitting back to his. "She's been my best friend since grade school, met her in the second grade. Mom had already begun teaching the three of us languages, and we all got to choose which ones we wanted to learn and one of the ones I picked was Korean. Lilly was still learning English and some of the other kids picked on her for her dialect it pissed me off and I tried to tell from what I knew of the language so far was 'not all of us are assholes here.' We stuck together ever since."

He laughed, remembering the pictures and seeing that little girl version of Sera making friends in such a way. He stopped seeing how somber she looked.

"Sera –"

"She was taken, you know? They found out she was our friend, my friend, and took her from her home. They did horrible things to her; the only piece of good luck she got was to be found before they killed her. The three of us wired some money to her and her family, it was the only way we could say we were sorry. But, somehow, she found a way to contact us, after all that she still won't leave us alone; her and her family is in hiding now because of us and she…"

He wasn't sure what to do, his face felt hardened by this. "Why ye telling me this, think it'll scare me off? I'm sorry about yer friend, but don't ye think if she wanted she'd have stayed away? She knows what's she's into, her mind didn't change about ye and neither mine or Connor's. So it's best to knock that idea out of yer head."

She snorted, a sardonic laugh, and he could see her eyes beginning to glisten. "Maybe I am trying to scare you, enlighten you, I don't know. I just felt like I should tell you the truth about things; tell you whatever I can for some reason."

He felt himself nodding; it could do her some good to get those atrocious images out of her head after she held them in for so long.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Murphy."

Her voice was doleful, but also exasperated. He glanced over her again, slack shoulders, wringing hands, unsure eyes, but what was getting to him was the fucking coat. Now that she faced him it was like the thing swallowed her whole, lapels overlapping, material of the sleeves bunched up on her elbows so her hands were free. Seraphine was small, too small for the coat, and small compared to him. He knew for a fact she was strong, she wouldn't have survived all that shit if she weren't, but one on who knew how fucking many was a fair fight. And he'd be damned if he let her fight alone.

"Suppose the first thing we should do is get our asses back inside, aingeal. Don't know about you but I'm freezing some important pieces off out here."

She looked from her hands, and he saw a smile forming on those rosebud lips, he went for her hand when he felt himself staggering back as she launched herself into his arms. He pulled her to him, her cold nose pressing into his neck.

"I want to stay."

It sounded as though this was a revelation to her. The awe in the sentence, like it baffled her, he knew why, the chance that something could happen to them, any of them here, was to supposed to outweigh what she wanted. He held her tightly, hoping he was conveying to her it wasn't likely he'd let her go.

"Don't want ye goin' anywhere, Sera. It'll be fine, you'll see, the only thing ye need to worry about is how ta put up with me and Conn."

He felt her smile, her nose nuzzle up and down his throat before an open mouth kissed was placed on the spot. He smirked, wondering if she knew she had kissed the Virgin Mary just now.

"If all has been settled, Mr. MacManus, you may be right and we should get back inside."

The breathy whisper caused his insides to wobble. He only nodded, not liking that he had to let her go, the heat she provided dissolving as they headed in back to the building. He wanted to use the lift, but she reminded him the noise could wake up Connor, he was going to tell her that it didn't mattered but she had already started up the steps.

"I had an idea."

He grinned at her. "Oh? Should I be scared, love?"

She shrugged, second guessing whether to say anything now.

"Come on, now, can't get my mind a wandering and leave it like that."

She squinted her lips to the side, thinking. "You and Connor still want me to attend Mass with you this Sunday?"

His eyebrows rose. "'Course. You're not changing yer mind are ye?"

"Nope. Oddly, I'm kind of looking forward to it. But it got me to think that tomorrow or Saturday, if you wanted, you and Connor would maybe attend a Shabbat service with me?"

He reached the banister at the top before her. "Shabbat?"

"You could describe as a Jewish Mass –"

He couldn't help but smirk at her analogy. "I know, aingeal."

He was glad to see her smile too. "Of course you do. Both of you like to play the idiot most of the time when you're both the savant. But, I just thought, since you were taking me to your religious home I should show you mine. I also thought, maybe it'd help me, perhaps clear my thoughts and find a way to guide myself again. I've never been the most religious person, but I remember it helped, believing in something."

Murphy chewed his lip. "It could help ye, being there. I know the Lord listens regardless, but when I'm in the church it feels like my prayers are louder."

She tilted her head in thought, before a smile he could only place as adorable came on her. "You know, Connor asked if the two of you could light the menorah for Hanukah."

"Oh, fuck yeah, we can go and get it after work tomorrow, maybe pick up a little tree too, celebrate everything together this year."

Her nose crinkled, the smile growing, his breath catching that such an adoring look was being thrown to him. He was used to being looked at, he wasn't trying to be smug about it, but him and his brother got those heady looks of lust from girls often enough. Some leading to quickies that went nowhere, to one nighters where they expected a ring the next morning. But this and many others he received from Seraphine made him want more. The way she would look at him with a mix of admiration and gratitude, sometimes wonderment, and now holding such affectionate the warmth of it could heat the whole damn building – it was all a tad daunting. He had to shake himself when he heard her speak.

"Sorry, Sera, didn't catch that."

She stepped closer to him. "I said, if you two let me light one of those candles at your church then I'll gladly let you light the menorah for all eight nights."

"We'll let you light every candle if ye want, ye know that."

The laugh jolted him, his answer fumbling her. He ushered her inside, pulling her to his bed this time so she might not get pushed into the crevice.

"What about Connor?"

He shrugged. "He's fine, took yer place on the bed since we left."

He had, his brother had left his spot and wiggled over to the middle turning over with his arm reaching out and on the other bed.

"Are there any more blankets?"

He got her one, watching as she went to Connor's side, pulling the sets of blankets around him, tucking him in like a cocoon. He watched this idly, hands twitching again, he wasn't sure how much larger his heart could grow for her. She shucked her shoes off, climbing up on the bed, waiting for him. She kept jabbing him with the pillow, but he pulled her up and tucked it under her head. Pulling her closer, their bodies relaxed. Her eyes were drooping when she cupped his cheek.

"Goodnight, Murph."

She had dropped off, before he could say it back.

When he woke he was alone, and before he had time to panic that she had gone out again he heard faint murmurings near the dining table. Turning over, he saw Sera fixing the table up for breakfast. The plastic bags telling him that someone had been out to get some, while she set the food out Connor stayed rooted to her moving each thing she sat down, Shep trailing behind them both.

"Connor, stop."

"Just helping, love."

"Your help isn't helping."

"That's hurtful, Sera."

Murphy knew what his brother was doing, easing her in the ways he knew, mainly humor. And from the amusement underlying her words he knew it was working. She walked to the fridge, giving Connor a smile, when he scooped her to him. He whispered something in her ear, making her turn pink as she shook her head, her small hands playing with the collar on his shirt. Connor always was the one with more self-control, his hands rubbing her back, letting fingers trace her collarbone, tickling the inside of her elbows until Murphy could tell her breathing had become harsh it wasn't until then that Connor let his lips touch her. The first one going to her forehead, letting it linger in case she wanted to say no. But she didn't, her own hands roving, letting them go up the ropes of his arms, playing with the tattoos there and on his neck, before her thumbs caressed his face moving in long strokes where his eyes creased when he smiled.

He's surely smilin' now.

And he was, and Murphy didn't blame his brother one bit. No, if it had been anyone else, he'd have choked the life out of them. But with Connor as it had always been in their lives was meant to be shared. There was no real jealousy, sure, he wanted time with her just as Connor did, but it didn't mean it was to be wholly kept. He wondered if this was how his brother felt yesterday, seeing him kissing Sera like she was an oxygen tank and he needed a top off. From the way he had smiled hadn't minded. Maybe it was a thing with multiple births, if one is happy, all could be happy. He hoped it was true, with Sera holding in her giggles as Connor kissed her, maybe her brother felt some of her jubilance. Sera pulled away, she looked alive, refreshed.

"We should wake Murphy before everything's cold."

Connor went back in, this time letting his kisses fall on her neck. Which paying attention now he could see, his pride swelling - the patches of purple he had given her yesterday.

"He's already up, ár n-cailín milis, been watchin' us like a perv." (Our sweet girl)

Murphy let himself stretch up then, not at all ashamed of being caught. "Not my fault you two are too loud. Tryin' ta get my beauty sleep and yer smooching ruined it."

Connor chuckled. "You'd need a hundred years ta get enough ta be looking halfway ta shit."

He was about to tell him to fuck off when something warm hit his arm. Blinking his eyes again, he found Sera kneeling next to the bed, cup of coffee held out. He saw her hair pulled back, in her favorite jeans and wooly sweater, she always wore pants, it made him think on something but let it settle for later.

"Thanks, aingeal."

"Don't be givin' him no breakfast in bed now. Ye coddle him he won't stop. 'Sides he's a fuckin' thief."

The hot liquid almost came out of his nose. "How the fuck am I a thief?"

"Took the girl right from under me, is what ye did!"

His brother was still being playful, but still…"

"I told him about last night, even told him I tucked him in like the sweet boy he is, kind of changing my mind now."

Connor waved them off, fixing his own mug. They both preferred it black, their Ma proclaiming it would give them some hair on their chest, seemed to be accurate enough.

Murphy drained the cup before getting his work clothes. "Goin' ta hafta fix these damn beds though, could've smothered between the two of us and we wouldn't had known til mornin'."

Connor shrugged. "We'll get one of those foamy things that go on the top, should help."

Sounded like it could anyways, maybe they could bring Sera's bed in here. She was going to have to move all her things anyways, and knowing all the shit he did now, he was sure neither of them were going to let her live by herself again.

"That reminds me I have to get my binders for class out of the apartment."

Connor kissed the side of her head, before going to throw on his work boots. "We'll get all yer stuff from there this weekend."

She seemed stumped then. "That's nice of you both, but I kind of need the binders for work today."

No. "Ye don't need ta be going to work today. Yer stayin' here Sera."

Her eyes turned to him then, defiant, confused. "'I'm staying?' I think I can handle work, Murphy."

He gritted his teeth, not wanting to argue with her. "Just had a damn seizure, were in the hospital after seeing a woman torn apart, you're not goin'! We'll let yer work know if they haven't already guessed. Ye need ta take it easy, don't want to argue with ye, but I'll tie ye down if need be."

She flushed then, and he hoped he hadn't triggered something from her past.

"I can handle myself."

"We know that, love."

Leave it to Connor to try to placate everything.

"We do know that, doesn't mean yer alone anymore."

"I don't want you two feeling sorry for me, I don't need to be babied. Okay?"

He got it. "Fine, still goin' ta rest up this weekend, go in on Monday, yeah?"

She peered at him. "Does that mean we're not going out later?"

Connor looked between them. "What ye mean goin' out? Ye two make a date without me?"

Murphy snorted. "Could say that, going ta Mass Sunday with her, she thought it'd be good to go to a Shabbat service with her today."

Connor nodded. "Don't sound like a bad idea. Never been in one of 'em before, first time fer everything though ain't it?"

"Probably get something ta eat after. Gotta find out when one starts."

"The closest one to here will start at seven thirty, and we should be out by nine. Is that too late for dinner?"

"Eaten way later than that, love. So ye done fightin' with us?"

She huffed. "Not much of a fight, two of you ganging up on me."

Murphy thought of last night. "Not tryin' ta gang up on ye. Conn and me just want ye safe, want ye ta be careful fer now. Not bad ta have someone look out fer ye, is it?"

"No, I – just don't leave me out of things. I've been through this before. I want you both safe too."

Murphy went to her, letting his arms sneak around her waist. "We know, Seraphine, but ye got ta cut us a little slack. We're tryin' ta be nineties men, but we still got a bit of cavemen in us wanting ta protect ye. Ain't nothin' going ta happen to any of us. Lounge around today, we got Roc coming over later ta watch out fer ye, get ye something ta eat til we get to the store. It'll be all right today."

She groaned, annoyed. "You roped Rocco into this?"

"He hasn't gotten a full disclosure, he just knows what happened at the apartment. May not be a bad idea to let him know about it though, he works with certain people that know things, he could help us find out what they're up to where they're at and such."

She went and settled on their couch. "Maybe. Do you guys even have anything for lunch?"

Connor snorted, lighting the cigarette between his lips. "Got plenty of lunch money there, mom. Won't let those bullies on the playground get it neither."

Murphy saw her picking the foam that stuck out of the pink material. "Ass. Just feel like I should do something for you both."

"Just stay here, and feel better."

"Yeah, lass, stay here and be pretty for when we come home."

"Oh, fuck you both."

They were able to pin her down, planting kisses on her before they went out the door.

It was a slow day, the clock's needles barely moving. It'd help if he'd quit looking at them every few seconds but he doubt he could stop. He was on deveining and usually he'd have fun taking that trace amount of blood that remained and squirt it on his brother, sometimes surprising him and getting the muck into his mouth. But he didn't, Murphy's mind was going a hundred places and he didn't know where to keep it at. The other workers seemed worried, neither him nor Connor pulling anything like they do. Maybe this was what people meant when they were lovesick. He froze.

Love?

Murphy MacManus had never really been in love before, he doubted Connor had either. Sure there had been a few girls that kept him for a good while. But love? The only people he was sure he loved were his Ma, uncle, and brother. He didn't know what the hell he was thinking anymore.

"Ye all right there, Murph? Few more inches ye would've cut yer finger off."

He looked at his brother, the same blue as him, watching him with amusement and concern.

"Can't think straight today."

"She's fine, ye know. Like she said, she's tough. We'll get this shit sorted out proper let her have a life she deserves."

"I know, thinkin' of other stuff too."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

He felt his ears tingle, knowing they were going red. "Bunch o' shit…do you think we'll stay with her?"

Connor's brows knitted together. "What ye mean? Course we will, fuck those pricks anyone of 'em –"

"I don't mean that, fuck…I mean…in the future, ye think the three of us will stay together?"

"What ye mean? Like marriage and shit?"

Marriage? For fuck's sake even his mind hadn't taken it that far.

"Hell, I don't know. Now ye got me thinkin' of her in a dress again."

"Again, huh? Why ye wanting her in a dress so bad fer?"

Murphy shrugged. "Think she'd look good in one is all, thought we could take her out somewhere Saturday. Make it feel official and all that."

Connor stroked his chin. "Wouldn't be a bad idea, never thought too hard on it, but she'd be a sight in a dress wouldn't she? She already reminds me of something out of a Renaissance painting."

Murphy fiddled with his glove. Sometimes it was like they could delve into each other's heads. "Yeah, she does."

"Good idea, brother, we can surprise with something later."

Connor walked away, and he was about to get back to work when he heard.

"As fer yer other thinkin'. Yeah, I think we'll be together. I can see it."

Strange enough, so could Murphy, and he liked what he saw.

Taggers!

@some-daniela

#the boondock saints #boondock saints #connor macmanus #murphy macmanus #connor and murphy macmanus #macmanus brothers #my oc #alternate universe #chapter 9

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hockeyconcepts-blog · 6 years

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Strength and Conditioning for Hockey: 3 Myths Dispelled

There are many myths in the Strength and Conditioning field in regards to Strength and Conditioning for sports, in my experience, hockey and baseball lead the pack.

We will not address baseball here, but as sports are sports, these points will apply. Let’s get right into the 5 Myths Dispelled in no particular order:

Myth 1.

Parents know more than the coach, or so many of them think.

After being in the S&C field for almost 30 years, I’ve seen a lot, and one thing that never goes away is that the parents know what the kids need to work on in the gym and the best way for them to do it.

Now of course, some of the parents, the bulk of you don’t.

Don’t take this as an insult, it’s not. It’s a wake up.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had parents tell me what to do with their athletes.

It’s usually the father in this case too. Sometimes they have good feedback, and goals for the kids, but most of the time they are incorrect.

So incorrect it’s like they went to the store and bought a 5-gallon jar of Wrong Sauce and covered themselves in it.

As true S&C professionals, we’ve spent a long time learning, coaching, interning, getting continuing ed and developing our craft. We should know how to do our jobs.

Think of it like this, if the transmission in your car was broken, would you go to the transmission shop and tell the mechanic how to fix it?

I hope not, and if you do, that’s why almost every shop I’ve been in has a sign that says something like:

Labor rates: $75 per hour if we do the work

$100 per hour if you watch

$200 per hour if you tell us how to do it.

We don’t go to your job and tell you how to do it. If you are willing to pay us to develop your athlete, let us do our jobs.

Of course, we want information on how your athlete performs, what their strengths are, what they are lacking, but if we truly know how to do our jobs, we will figure all of this out in the assessments and initial training sessions.

Go on the internet, do some research on the coach you want to hire, and let them do their job. This industry tends to sort itself out and if you find and experienced coach with a track record of success, chances are they know more than you about this subject.

Charlatans tend to get exposed quickly.

Myth 2.

Hockey Players Are Different Than Other Athletes and Need Super Specific Exercises

This one applies to all sports and gets my bloomers in a bunch more than most of the myths. Athletes are athletes. They all need to train in a similar fashion, with SOME specifics to their sport and/or position.

Let’s look at what ALL athletes need:

Maximal strength

Flexibility specific to their sport.

EG: a gymnast needs more flexibility than a middle distance runner. Some positions need more flexibility than others as well, goalies come to mind.

High Level of GPP:

GPP is General Physical Preparedness, and this is a fancy term for being in shape and having a high work capacity.

Explosive power:

This should need no explanation. Athletes need to be fast.

Endurance Related to their Sport:

Again, this should not need much explanation. A forward needs a different type and amount of endurance than a marathon runner.

Muscular development:

Athletes need strong muscles and they also need to add an appropriate amount for their sports.

Being skinny doesn’t help performance too often. No, they don’t need to look like bodybuilders, but they do need to build some muscular mass.

Take a look at Zdeno Chara with no shirt on. He’s jacked.

Or Ovechkin.

He’s not super jacked, but he has a good deal of muscle mass.

Don’t be afraid of letting your kids pack on some beef.

Speed and Agility:

Again, no explanation should be needed here.

SPP: Specific Physical Preparedness:

This is a fancy term for sport related skills and strengths. In my opinion, and not the opinion of a lot of S&C coaches, this is NOT MY JOB.

This is the sport coaches job.

As an S&C coach, we get the kids, if we are lucky 3 hours a week or maybe a little more.

To truly make your athlete stronger, faster and more resistant to injury, we have to focus on the big picture.

Let’s look at what the big picture is.

Strength trumps all in sports, because in the words of my mentor, Dr. Fred Hatfield, “In all the world of sports, speed is king.”

A stronger athlete is a faster athlete.

A stronger athlete is more resistant to injury.

The best way to get faster is to get stronger.

We need to get them stronger with basic exercises using weights that they can handle with as perfect form as their current level of skill allows, with the weight being a challenge.

There is almost no need for super specific exercises, refer to the GPP vs. SPP statement.

We don’t need to make up goofy exercise that mimic what happens on the game field or rink.

That is better saved for drills in practice.

And I’d argue that it is somewhat unnecessary for most cases.

Athletes need to develop their limit strength using squats, presses, rows, deadlifts, pushups, pullups, trunk work (NOT CORE!) loaded carries and sled pushes, and at some point, speed development using exercise that require a high level or nervous system recruitment.

They also need to do unilateral work, meaning one single arm or single leg exercises like lunges, step ups and presses. I can go on for days about this, but I won’t.

Find a coach that gets this concept and let them develop your athlete by making them master control of their bodyweight (pushups, pullups, etc.) and gives them a solid program focused on basics.

Basics work at all levels and you never outgrow them.

Myth 3:

Olympic Lifts are Required

This drives me INSANE.

Olympic lifts such are the Clean and Jerk and the Snatch.

They work very well to develop speed and explosive strength.

They do this in part by requiring the nervous system learn to fire quickly and efficiently.

They also are highly technical and take a good deal of time to learn. If we only have the kids for 90 minutes tow or three times a week, there are far better ways to develop the nervous system than spending 45 minutes each session perfecting technique on cleans and snatches.

Training the nervous system is training the nervous system.

Your nervous system doesn’t know what type of resistance you are using, so if you can get the desired effect with exercises you can teach quickly, why wouldn’t you? This is particularly with younger athletes with developing systems.

Their nervous system cannot tell the difference between their body as weight (as in jumps), a barbell, or a medicine ball.

All it understands is that a specific demand is being placed on it and it has to adapt.

Why use Olympic lifts that take a long time to perfect?

I am not bashing Olympic lifts, I love them.

I just don’t program them often or too early in a program.

If we can get a comparable effect with less teaching using jumps, bounds, medicine all throws and slams, and dumbell cleans, why would we WASTE time?

Let’s use the dumbell clean as an example.

If I can’t teach a kid to do a dumbell clean in a safe manner in just a few minutes, I should be out of a job.

They are low skill, high transfer.

To me, low skill, high transfer is a winner.

High skill, high transfer is great too, but in most cases we have limited time. Make the most of it.

Let me sum this up for you:

As parents, if you invest in an S&C coach, drop the kids off, and let them train.

Don’t interfere.

You should have done your due diligence and discovered that you hired a qualified coach.

Let them do their job.

Sports are sports and the best way to get your athlete to develop and perform is to get them stronger.

Period.

And lastly, if the program doesn’t have Olympic lifts in it, who cares as long as it addresses the needs of the athlete.

C.J. Murphy

Totalperformancesports.com

Murph is the owner of Total Performance Sports in Malden, Mass and has been a Strength Coach and Nutritionist for almost 30 years.

He is a member of the Advisory Board for Men’s Fitness and Muscle and Fitness magazines as well as being a featured coach on elitefts.com.

#hockeyconcepts #hockey #strengthandconditioning #wrongsauce #strength #speed #gpp #spp #agility #power #endurance #chara #ovechkin #olympic #c.j. murphy #total performance sports

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