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fortheloveofwonderland · 8 months

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Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 20 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - Spencer wakes from his coma and Luke is faced with a dilemma on how to facilitate his recovery. With the help of some wise words from Emily, they make a decision regarding his rehabilitation. In the mean time, you receive another visit.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - tears, hospitals, talk of wanting to die, mentions of being committed, swearing, reader back story with vague mentions of bad home life and drug use and sexual activities, arguing, Luke has to lay some harsh truths on Spencer.

WC - 4.5k

Chapter 20 - Begin Again

It was two weeks after Luke’s visit to PIW to see you that he received the phone call from the hospital. He’d spent most of his time there and briefly popped home to have a shower and change as he’d been wearing the same clothes for three days.

He’d just exited the bathroom, one towel slung around his waist, another in his hand that he attempted to dry his wet hair with. Roxy was at the sitters and Luke hated being home, even for an hour, without her here. He finished mussing his hair and tossed the smaller of the towels on the bed. As he was heading to his closet, his phone started ringing from the night stand.

The next thirty minutes of Luke’s life was a complete blur. After the phone call he must have dressed but he barely remembered doing so, jumped in his car and broke several speed limits as he hurried back to the hospital. He made a phone call at some point but couldn’t entirely remember the content. He had a vague recollection of parking but would later struggle to remember where he left his vehicle.

He recalled running through hospital corridors, bumping into a few people on his way and shooting rapid apologies on his way to Spencer’s floor. He was out of breath by the time he made it, opting to take the stairs as the elevator was taking too long.

He flung open the door of the room he’d practically inhabited for nearly three weeks, the sound of the machines flooding his ears as soon as he did. He’d started to believe he’d never see those eyes looking back at him but now they were, it filled Luke with a flurry of emotions. Those eyes blinked a couple of times, a sad and slightly morbid smile playing at his cracked lips.

“I heard you saved my life” Spencer croaked as Luke closed the door behind him.

Luke nodded stiffly, slowly moving further into the room and desperate to keep his tears at bay. He came to the side of Spencer’s bed and Spencer rolled his head to the side on the pillow to look at him.

“And I read your letter. And I can only assume that’s not what I was supposed to do.” Luke spoke sadly.

“Naloxone.” Spencer mused. “I should have known, what with your girlfriend being a physician.”

“Ex-girl-” Luke stopped himself short and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re ok, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.” Spencer exhaled deeply. “Super.”

Without invitation Luke set himself on the small empty space on the bed next to Spencer’s hip. Spencer looked away from him and Luke saw his eyes gloss over with tears.

“You really wanted me to let you die?” Luke’s voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.

“You said you read my letter. Did it sound like I wanted to be saved?”

“Why did you come to me? If you really wanted to die you were more likely to achieve that if you were alone.”

“The thought of dying alone scared me.” Spencer blinked back his tears, looking back at Luke. “I wanted someone there at the end. Someone I trusted.”

“Do you not think maybe it was just the thought of dying that scared you?” Luke asked softly and Spencer knew what he wanted the answer to be. But Spencer wasn’t going to lie to him.

“No. Truthfully, living scares me more than dying.” Spencer brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. “Life comes with a significant amount of pressure, pressure which I can no longer stand the weight of. I’ve tried, Luke. I’ve tried so hard and I’m just so tired of it all. Life has exhausted me. I don’t…I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Spencer’s tears escaped and he got choked up. Luke clenched his jaw, furiously rubbing his eyes to keep his own tears at bay. His heart was shattering for his friend, for the pain he must be feeling. For the disappointment Spencer had in releasing he’d survived yet again.

“Jesus,” Luke swallowed thickly. “Now I feel bad for saving you.”

Spencer surprised him when, despite his tears, he chuckled dryly.

“I might be thankful for it one day, who knows. But right now I’m a little annoyed about it to be honest.”

“I wouldn’t do anything differently.” Luke shook his head. “You came to me for a reason and I was going to do anything I could to help you. I wasn’t just going to let you die, no matter how much you wished I had.”

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth and nodded. He rubbed his face with his hands.

“Three weeks huh?” He changed the subject suddenly. “That’s what the doctor said.”

“Yeah. It’s been the longest three weeks of all of our lives.”

“Where are they all? I expected to be flooded with visitors.” Spencer smiled wearily.

“Indiana. Garcia is calling them. I imagine she’ll be on her way here.”

“Why weren’t you in Indiana?” Spencer narrowed his eyes on Luke.

“I haven’t been anywhere but here and home since you were admitted.” He shrugged. “You wanted me there at the end, but I wanted to be there at the beginning. The beginning of the rest of your life, the start of your road to recovery.”

“Again.” Spencer sighed. “I’m at the beginning again.”

“It’s the best place to start.” Luke forced a smile, trying to encourage Spencer.

“Yeah.” He nodded but didn’t seem as though he really agreed.

Moments later the door flew open, rocking against its hinges as a brightly coloured blur came crashing into the room, heels clicking on the floor as she ran to the bedside.

“Boy wonder! Oh my gosh you’re alive!” The bubbly blonde practically threw herself at Spencer, seemingly ignoring Luke’s presence.

“Lucky me.” Spencer sighed as he was pulled into Garcia’s arms.

While Penelope fussed over Spencer, Luke slid off the bed and quietly slipped from the room. He was happy Spencer was alive but he wished the younger man felt the same. And now he’d made it through, Luke was faced with a difficult decision on where he went from here.

Spencer asked him in his letter to have him committed, but he knew that now Spencer was awake, he was going to resist, fight him on the idea. If Luke did what his letter dictated then he would have to be the bad guy, he would have to force this on Spencer. Luke didn’t want to be in this position, this kind of decision didn’t seem fair to fall on his shoulders.

He had a lot to think about. And a lot was riding on it.

***

It was two days later the team arrived back from Indiana and descended upon the hospital. Luke had done nothing but think about his predicament and was yet to make any kind of logical decision on the matter.

He was nursing a cup of terrible coffee in the desolate hospital cafeteria when she found him. It was the middle of the night and all he really wanted was to crawl into bed with Roxy and not have to deal with any of this.

She weaved between empty tables and slid into the chair opposite him. He glanced up at her and offered her a sad half-smile as he cupped the coffee.

“I thought you’d be happy. He’s alive, you saved his life.” Emily returned the sad smile.

“Yeah.” Luke sighed as he spoke. “But what I’ve got to do next is kinda concerning me.”

Emily narrowed her eyes on him, a hint of confusion on her features. Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter before sliding it across the table.

Emily picked it up and read through it. He watched the way her expression changed at certain parts. He sipped the coffee while he waited, grimacing at the taste but continuing to drink it nonetheless. When she was finished she folded the piece of paper and laced her fingers together.

“Oh.” Was all she said. Luke was hoping she’d have something more fruitful to offer.

“Why me, Emily? Why did he choose me?” Luke looked so torn and so confused.

“Oh come on.” Emily couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?”

“Are you really so naive? Spencer adores you. Since the first time I saw you two together there has been this bond between you. At first I thought it was transference, after Morgan left it kinda sent Reid into a tailspin. Morgan was like his older brother, always looking out for him and he lost that when Morgan left the team.” Emily explained but Luke was frowning.

“I’m still not sure I follow.” He scratched the back of his neck and Emily rolled her eyes.

“It’s different with the two of you. Less older brother, little brother and something more equal. Spencer does not open up to people easily, he gave me such a hard time when I joined the team. It was different when you joined, it was as though the two of you had known each other your whole lives. You can’t tell me you don’t see that?” Emily laid it out for him, a small smiling toying at her lips.

“I guess we kinda bonded.” Luke agreed. “But you and JJ and Garcia have all known him so much longer than I have. I was surprised.”

“Time doesn’t mean a thing, Luke. There’s a level of understanding and trust between the two of you that surpasses what we have with him. I’m not in the least bit surprised he chose you.” She reached across the table and patted his arm.

“That doesn’t really make the decision any easier.” He sighed heavily. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“He was pretty clear in his letter.” Emily shrugged. “And I can only assume because it’s actually somewhat legible and makes sense that he wrote it before he got high. He’s detoxing again now, the drugs are still in his system so he probably will fight you on it. But he was of sound mind when he wrote this and he said he wants you to have him committed.”

“I don’t know, Emily. A padded cell? Are we really at that stage?”

“They don’t call them padded cells anymore, Alvez, they’re called calming rooms or de-escalation rooms.” She corrected him.

“And you know that, because?” He frowned at her.

“Because I considered it before I had him sent to PIW.” She confessed. “I didn’t think it was the right place for him at the time, I was hoping the institute would be enough. But I think we are at that stage now.”

“What else do you know about them? Maybe if I had more information it would help.” He should have thought of that. It’s what Spencer would have done, research.

“Well, they are used for the supervised confinement of a patient, who is severely disturbed and poses harm to themselves or others. They have to, by law, allow communication between the patient and medical professionals through an intercom or something of the like. Include limited furnishings, a bed, pillow, mattress and a blanket. Reinforced windows, that provide natural light, controlled lighting, robust doors that open outwards.” She shrugged.

“He’d have a bed?” Luke questioned which made Emily chuckle.

“Yes, what did you expect that he’d be alone in the corner of a padded room in a straight jacket?”

“I honestly don’t know what I expected.”

“You watch too many movies. The room would still be padded with, like, foam or something else soft. The point of them is to reduce the amount of visual and auditory stimuli which is supposed to create a calming effect.”

“It sounds like solitary confinement. I may as well be sending him back to prison.” Luke groaned.

“I honestly think it’s the best place for him, Luke. He can detox, get his withdrawals out of his system in a safe environment where he has no distractions. It wouldn’t be forever, just until he’s over the worst of it and then I guess we look at sending him back to a psychiatric facility like PIW for rehabilitation. But he won’t make it if we send him back there now. I can almost guarantee he will find a way to relapse again if he goes back to a facility like that now.”

Luke knew she was right. Aside from Spencer, Emily was the smartest person he knew. And not only was she smart, she was rational. Everything she said made perfect sense and he agreed with her. It didn’t make the situation any less shit though.

“I hate that he’s put this on me.” Luke whined a little. “It’s not fair. None of this is fair.”

“He trusts you.” Emily shrugged, pushing her chair back. “He trusts you to make the right call for him. You and no one else.”

“What if I make the wrong decision?” Luke followed suit and stood too.

“You won’t.” Emily shot him a knowing smile.

Luke smiled back, admittedly feeling lighter after his talk with Emily but he still had his reservations. His mind wasn’t made up, not by a long shot, but at least he was armed with more information now. And even if he did totally fuck this up, he knew he always had his team on his side.

Even if Spencer wasn’t.

***

When Doctor Yang informed you that you had a visitor a little over two weeks after the last, you were elated if truth be told. You’d hadn’t expected Luke to come back, but you were over the moon that he had. He didn’t have to be here, he worked for the FBI and no doubt had other stuff going on in his life; why should he waste his precious time with someone he barely knew?

You’d gotten used to being alone. You’d run away from home when you were sixteen and never looked back. As far as you knew your parents had never looked for you. You bounced between friends' couches, sometimes sleeping on the streets but it was preferable to being in that house.

You’d been just shy of eighteen the first time you’d been given drugs, by an older guy you’d been hooking up with. You’d never even so much as smoked a cigarette before, but after the first time you snorted cocaine, there had been no going back.

For years this cycle continued. You had a string of older guys offering you drugs in exchange for sexual favours. Sometimes they gave you a place to stay for the night, other times you slept rough. At some point one of those guys must have been Spencer, but you didn’t take payment with drugs for your night spent with him.

He’d been good to you, you remembered that much. Usually the men you slept with used you for their own pleasure, not caring if you were getting off on it or not. But Spencer was different. You recalled him spending a long time that night focused on you, bestowing upon you more orgasms than you’d had in a really long time.

Even afterwards once the two of you were both spent you had a hazy memory of him holding you in arms, peppering your skin with kisses. You could vaguely feel his lips on your flesh, the way his breath fanned against you.

“I could lay like this with you forever, angel.”

“Me too.”

You weren’t sure either of you had actually uttered those words, maybe you’d created your own false memories of that night. But you liked to believe that was what had happened. At some point you must have left, you didn’t stay the night, you would have remembered waking up to him in the morning. And so your routine continued.

For a long time you were content with this lifestyle but then something had shifted. One morning after a particularly heavy binge you’d woken up in a nondescript room surrounded by the remains of drug paraphernalia and an array of used condoms. You were sore from the top of your head to the soles of your feet and covered in bruises and cuts that you had no memory of.

You knew something had to give.

And so you’d checked yourself into the Psychiatric Institute of Washington and vowed to yourself you would never end up in a situation like that again.

You were adept at being alone, but seeing SSA Luke Alvez waiting for you in the day room that afternoon filled you with joy. Someone cared. In a small way, someone cared about you. It was a welcome feeling.

“Didn’t expect you to come back.” You smiled as you slid into the chair opposite him.

“I said I would.” He smiled back. “I’m a man of my word.”

“It, uh, means a lot. People are only usually nice to me when they want something in return. Men especially.” You blushed a little and your expression told Luke exactly what you meant.

“Oh god.” He frowned in disgust. “Jesus, I’m…I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think-”

“You seem like a decent guy.” You cut him off. “I mean, you’re an FBI agent for a start.”

“Yeah but even FBI agents aren’t always…you know.” He shrugged, clearly talking about Spencer.

“Right.” You nodded. “Point taken. But for the record, addiction and everything aside, he is still a decent guy. He wasn’t like the others. From what I can remember anyway.”

“Yeah I don’t think he’s got a bad bone in his body.” Luke agreed.

“Are you going to tell me how he is or do I specifically have to ask?” Your lip twitched at the corner.

“He’s awake. He woke up a few days ago.” Luke nodded.

“How is he?”

“I think you can probably hazard a guess.”

“What’s going to happen to him now? Is he coming back?” You were equal parts excited and deflated at the thought of Spencer returning to PIW.

You wanted to see him again, more than you’d ever wanted any drug. But it could also be detrimental to you to see him again.

“He, uh, he wants me to have him committed. Padded cell kinda thing. Although apparently I’m not supposed to call them that anymore.” Luke scratched the back of his neck.

“Calming rooms.” You corrected him. “He said that to you?”

“Not exactly. It was in the letter he wrote me.”

“And you think he’s going to have changed his mind about that.” You surmised.

“I don’t think that, I know that he has. He keeps asking when he can go home.” Luke pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know what will happen if he goes home though, right?” You spoke softly.

“He will take drugs. He will probably kill himself.” Luke sighed deeply.

“Most likely, yes.” You shrugged sadly. “Unfortunately us addicts are quite predictable.”

“What would you do? If you were released right now, what would you do?” Luke leant forward on the table.

“Much the same as what Spencer would.” You smiled wryly. “I’m four months sober but I’d still go out and buy drugs, I’m sure of it. And that’s why I know this is where I need to be.”

“I want to help him, I would literally do anything to help him. But I’m scared that if I force him into a place like that he’ll never forgive me.” Luke rolled his lip between his teeth.

“He might not.” You agreed. You didn’t want to sit here and lie to Luke, not after how nice he was being. “But if it helps him get better, to finally beat this, would it be worth it?”

“Undoubtedly.” Luke didn’t miss a beat.

“Then there’s your answer.” You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“I can see why Spencer likes you.”

“Hmm must my charm.”

“Must be.” He nodded in agreement. “You wanna take a walk or something?”

“Sure.” You pushed your chair back and he did the same.

As you led him outside you smiled to yourself. It was nice to have an ally, a friend even. Luke was kind and sweet and he made you feel connected to Spencer in some way. You hoped maybe you’d be able to continue this friendship even once you left this place.

SSA Luke Alvez was a good person to have on your side.

***

“Hey, man.” Luke edged the door open tentatively and spoke in a hushed tone in case Spencer was asleep.

But Spencer was wide awake, like usual, staring out of the window from his hospital bed.

“Hey,” he pulled the sheet up to his chin. “It’s late, what are you doing here?”

“I, uh, just got back from PIW.” Luke padded over to his bedside and slid into the chair.

“Why were you at PIW?” Spencer frowned at him.

“I went to see Y/N.” Luke shrugged.

“Why?” Spencer’s frown only deepened.

“I went and saw her right after you fell into a coma, I thought she’d want to know. She seemed to like having someone to talk to, I think she’s pretty much alone and I thought she could use a friend.”

“How is she?” Spencer swallowed thickly.

“You know.” Luke shrugged. “She misses you.”

“She told me she didn’t want to be with me so I’m quite sure that she doesn’t.” Spencer huffed, folding his arms.

“She just wants to stay clean, Spencer. She’s scared that the two of you would only enable each other.” Luke spoke softly but Spencer scoffed.

“Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about her.” He shook his head. “When can I go home?”

Luke exhaled heavily, running his hands over his thick stubble. Between his conversations with you and Emily he knew what he had to do. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

“You aren’t going home.” Luke whispered.

“Well I’m certainly not going back to PIW.” Spencer growled.

“No, you’re not.” Luke shook his head. “There’s a place up in Virginia that we think you’d benefit from spending time at. In the morning the doctor is going to assess you to see if you fit the criteria but I think you will. And, uh, well the state of Virginia allows for any interested person to involuntarily commit someone so I guess in this instance, that’s me.”

Spencer glared at him wildly while he spoke, hands coming to grip the bed sheet so tightly his knuckles turned white. Luke could see the vein in his forehead pulsing angrily just as he’d suspected.

“No.” Spencer croaked, shaking his head. “Not again. I won’t be forced into a place like that again, you can’t make me!”

“Yeah, I can.” Luke sighed. “You told me in your letter to do this, Spencer.”

“I didn’t know what I was talking about!” Spencer slammed his fists against the mattress, raising his voice. “I just want to go home!”

“You wanna go home so you can kill yourself?” Luke yelled back, jumping up from the chair. “Not on my watch!”

“If I want to kill myself that is none of your concern.” Spencer spat as Luke loomed over him.

“Too damn bad, because I am making it my concern.” Luke barked, unsure where exactly this sudden anger was coming from. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me to witness you overdosing on my floor? Do you have any fucking clue how scary that was for me? To see one of my best friends dying and knowing I would never forgive myself if something had happened to you!

I appreciate you didn’t want to die alone but that was really shitty of you to put that on me. I can’t fucking sleep, Spencer! Every time I close my eyes I see you seizing on my damn floor! It wasn’t fair of you to do that. None of this has been fair on anyone! Your addiction has made you selfish and it’s not just yourself it’s destroying. It kills all of us to see you like this and feel so fucking helpless. So yeah, it’s my concern. And I will not let you relapse again or kill yourself, ok? You are going to be committed Spencer. And if you wanna hate me for that, be my guest. But I’d rather you hate me than watch you die.”

By the time Luke was finished he was seething, foaming at the mouth and Spencer resembled a small child being told off by his father. Luke had never spoken to him in that way, Spencer wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Luke talk to anyone that way.

Spencer didn’t even know how to respond and so he didn’t, instead he shrunk further down in the bed as if the thin hospital sheet could protect him from Luke’s anger.

Luke knew if he stayed he’d inevitably say more things that wouldn’t help and make matters worse so instead he spun on his heels and quickly crossed the room to the door.

Spencer watched him go, tears welling in his eyes. As soon as Luke was gone and closing the door behind him, they overflowed.

Luke was right, he’d been selfish. He’d never stopped to think about how any of this had affected those closest to him. It had never occurred to him how much they were suffering because of what Spencer was doing to himself.

Had he really thought it was fair of him to die by Luke’s side? His only thought had been that he didn’t want to be alone at the end but he didn’t take into consideration how much his death might fuck Luke up.

He’d been a terrible friend, a terrible person. He’d gotten mad at you because you’d done the smart thing and put yourself first. But Spencer knew you’d also been right, the two of you would never work, your addictive personalities would only be each other's downfall.

George had been right too. Spencer spent so much of his time blaming other people for this mess rather than taking accountability for his own actions. He blamed Cat for sending him to prison and ultimately leading him back to drugs but she hadn’t forced the dilaudid in his hand. He’d made that decision to relapse, no one else had.

He’d broken the rules and he’d been caught, it wasn’t George’s fault, he’d simply been doing his job. And it was Spencer who had made the decision to leave the institute, no one else had forced him to. And it had been his choice to relapse upon leaving.

This was all on him. Pointing the finger of blame had been easier than admitting responsibility for his own actions. But at the end of the day, everything that had led him here had been completely in his own hands.

Maybe he needed to be committed, locked away where he couldn’t hurt himself or burden those he loved. And even if he didn’t want to get clean for himself, he should at the very least try for those seven people who had been there for him through thick and thin. He should do it for those people who’s love and support for him had never wavered.

If he couldn’t do it for himself he was going to do it for them. For Luke Alvez. For Emily Prentiss. For Penelope Garica and Jennifer Jareau. For David Rossi. For Tara Lewis and Matt Simmons.

He would do it for them. It was the least he could do.

@tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator @elle-28 @academiareid

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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gioiaalbanoart · 1 month

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TIME for another MIXED fried

(writing share / different flavors 😁)

9 lines, kiss something, writing share, favorite line.....

Thank you to @wyked-ao3 here here and here

@tragedycoded here , here and here

@aintgonnatakethis (here, even if it's not kiss) and @jev-urisk here and @the-golden-comet in some open tag 💫

Just so you know this is edited in the sense that I don't inflict you with the pain of my first version writing BUT it will probably change at some point....(but if I share it now I can DAMN move to next chapter so, basically I'm using you 😈)

Wip The scarred angel under the cut with tags

CW just in case Blood, injuries

*****

Truth is, sometimes the best way to go it's just shut up and be there.

Like he'd been reading my mind Herrera breaths out heavily : "So, I didn't say anything, really. I kept my mouth shut and basically just sit there with her."

He gestures, palms facing upwards, as to underline the memories : "Until eventually social service shown up."

While I picture the scene in my head I'm aware that I don't feel just sorry for someone that has been hurt in that way but I'm drawn to it beyond reasons that I can't narrow down at the moment.

Already my rational brain doesn't cut me any slack because, let's face it, there can't be nothing here but just trivial curiosity.

Brain says.

Herrera interrupts my inner speculation : "Did you see her eyes ?" he asks bluntly.

As if I could have missed that.

I slightly nod to not make it too obvious.

"That's the only thing she gave them back : silence and that killing-fuck-you stare of her".

Right...

"She didn't go through social services, didn't she?" I ask cautiously.

Herrera tisks : "By no means!"

He stands up abruptly and fishes for something in the mess of his desk until he recovers a pack of cigarettes.

He looks at me, a silent "Do you mind?" question.

I shake my head no same as I did few days before.

He walks towards the open window and lit the cigarette peering vaguely at the outside world before facing me again : "Social services talked psychiatric facilities as soon as she could be dismissed, since she wasn't speaking."

He marks a dramatic pause while he sharply inhales the smoke and blows it out waving the cigarette, ashes accidentally falling to the front of his white shirt : "Until they left."

"She talked to you then?" I arch my brow taken aback by the possible hypothesis.

"Barely!"

He frowns and anticipates me : "Oh, don't get me wrong, at present day I still don't know shit about what really happened to her, forget who attacked her. She stubbornly kept not saying a word about it and...." he waves his hand again and more ashes get loose : "...Please, believe me, it's not for lack of me asking!"

Another smoking inhale : "I tried to talk her out of it, insisting that she had to report it, I even got to the point of getting angry at her."

Herrera sounds rather frustrated at the recollection : "Goes without saying it was like pissing in the wind."

Herrera words hang between us in the silence that idles and I get slightly impatient as I sense he's holding back again.

As he got offended before I assume it's not because he's ashamed of something and I wonder if somehow he's protecting her.

"So, no social services?" I decide to prompt him.

It snaps him out from his thoughts.

"She was sixteen back then..." is the apparently out of context answer.

"She didn't say it but let it slide first time she came back a couple of years later. I did the math."

The implied evidence strikes me : "She ran away?"

He nods : "Indeed".

I slightly gawk : "How....?".

It hasn't been so long since I was sixteen too even if it does feel now like someone else life, not my own.

I perfectly recall I wasn't that bold but not injured as much neither, nor so much alone.

It stirs in the pit of my chest a complex mix of feelings among which I recognize admiration, sorrow, curiosity and that something else that I can't figure out yet.

"How did she manage to get away?" I ask again, dumbfounded.

Unlike a few days ago there is now an ashtray on the windowsill and the chief snuffs the cigarette into it, a little too harshly : "I'll be damn if I had a clue at the time. Or now, for the matter."

He steps away from the window and plops heavily on his chair, fingers drumming on the edges desk, his gaze intense now.

I want him to keep talking and me to shake off his staring : "So.... she just comes and go?"

A glimpse of curiosity crosses Herrera's gaze but apparently he decides to go my way : "Every now and then. Basically when she needs something."

"She asked for your help today?" I inquire.

Herrera tisks : "She came to dig for information, apparently I wasn't useful"

"And now she's gone." I hear myself say and again I can't put the finger on why I don't like the fact.

"And now she's gone." Herrera confirms.

I acknowledge a sting of frustration.

For some reason Herrera shifts through sympathetic mode.

"Look" he bents slightly across his desk, twining his fingers and he speaks with almost a fatherly tone : "At the time I felt sorrow for the girl, sickened about what she went through even if she didn't gave up the details. After the social workers left she spent few days in recovery and I paid her a visit every single day, even if she didn't seem to care."

He frowns : "I was there when the doctors toke the bandages off."

"By then I kind of knew so I asked her, at first, if I could stay. Incredible enough, she said yes"

Herrera's face twitches : "It was a shocking sight".

"I bet it was" I breath out.

"Even more shocking was to see her letting a single tear roll, just one. Then she stared at the mirror the nurse gave her eyes dry and cold. I couldn't believe it."

He leans against the backrest : "I didn't know what to say to the girl, so....I said nothing."

Even now Herrera's expression matches what probably felt back then, shock and defeated.

"Anyway" he lets out another sigh : "The following morning she was gone".

*****

Automatically tagged for the next writing share my TSA tag list (ask if you want IN/OUT) 💗 : @wyked-ao3 @saturnine-saturneight @tragedycoded

+ @the-golden-comet @authorcoledipalo @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @aintgonnatakethis @agirlandherquill @avaseofpeonies

+ open tag and lot of coffee ☕☕☕☕

#shouldn't be easy???#wip The scarred angel #OCs Amy Salinas POV #talking about Ashley Knox #let's move on damn it!#she doesn't talk......#writers on ao3 #writers on tumblr

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kopawz · 1 year

Text

it is wip wednesday my dudes i hope ur prepared for 1/4th of chapter 11 to be groupchat logs

Taking a deep breath to recollect herself, Peppermint decides to ignore the song choice, and looked back to her laptop, idly tapping her foot to the beat:

p:3ppermint: i know, but i still gotta get to work and stuff at 9, so i wanted to have something to start my search later

p:3ppermint: just spitballing here is all! no big plans

K_Orsica: It sounds like you're taking it a little personally, Pep.

CNMN#0001: 🙀!!

Drawing her hands back from the keyboard, Peppermint pouted at the screen with a slight blush. Okay, so maybe she *is* taking it a little personally. She can't help it. Her eyes light up at the next message:

K_Orsica: It sounds important to you to see this through. So why not just… take the day off to look into it without any job stress? I'm sure you could use the rest from work after everything.

Humming, Peppermint shrugged. She is nowhere *near* in the mood to help with any tech issues right now. She barely uses any sick days anyway. Taking a deep breath, she continued:

p:3ppermint: sure, why not

p:3ppermint: IT can handle a day without me. i’ll call it in later when i get home. but for now,

p:3ppermint: mission report:

p:3ppermint: find out where the hell is chai from. it's still weird that we don't know, right???

K_Orsica: Sounds like a good plan. How hard could it be to dig up info on Chai, anyway?

CNMN#0001: Well, I have no memory of Mister Chai talking about his life prior to his time here at Vandelay, besides what we discussed last night! 😔

CNMN#0001: He always miraculously changes topics, or offers vague, oversimplified answers whenever I attempt to ask! It is rather alarming, in retrospect, how good Mister Chai is at doing that! 😰

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: :O Ooh! Chai went to college to support his dream at first, didn't he?

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: Maybe ask someone there if they know where he came from. A charismatic little guy like him? I’m sure he had some buddies who might be wondering where he went! :D

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: Or maybe he was a little infamous, according to what I heard. <_<;

p:3ppermint: oh, sweet. good idea, you know what college he went to?

After several seconds of the in-progress typing UI disappearing and reappearing in uncertain intervals, Peppermint sighed when the answer was negative:

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: …No, I don't. He never even told me his major. D:

K_Orsica: Well, he did drop out, so I assume it's a sore spot he wouldn’t have wanted to talk about.

CNMN#0001: I feel as if we have been discovering Mister Chai has a large number of sore spots he would rather not discuss this week! 💧

K_Orsica: He must have gone into something music related, surely? What if you just look up all the colleges offering music degrees?

p:3ppermint: that’s a nice thought but

p:3ppermint: just because i could look up every college offering a musician's major does not mean i want to. same reason why i’m not just gonna look up every area code for a phone number

K_Orsica: Fair.

CNMN#0001: If I recall correctly, Mister Chai has several textbooks on music around the hideout? Perhaps that would offer more insight? 🤔

p:3ppermint: several? dude, he has a crapton of them. like, if chai was just hanging out by himself for the day, i'd walk in after working on stuff,

p:3ppermint: catch him reading one of them, before he snaps it shut again to ask me what's up

p:3ppermint: looking back, it's like he didn't even want me to think he was doing anything worth asking about.

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: He's that private about it? Poor guy must’ve been feeling rough about it all this time. :(

Suddenly, a very familiar username unceremoniously popped into the chatroom.

chai-fi-rush: ofdojierfdijopef01001000hu9pdesv9pdesvuhjojierfhudf]=[pl[01001001-huojirfd9uidfiufvhiijijohiojuhdfi

K_Orsica: CHAI?

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: Speak of the hellion, and here he… comes? o-o Why are you typing like that, buddy?

CNMN#0001: Oh! Mister Chai, we were just talking about you! Are you feeling well after your intense battle across the campus? 😎

chai-fi-rush: ouefh00111000t7f6rd6y00110000isjehfyfihw00111000sbdvfipj

CNMN#0001: Or… perhaps you should rest some more? 😐

The fuck?! Since when was he lucid? Whipping her head around to see if Chai was actually awake to be sending those messages; Peppermint huffed a disappointed breath from her nose, frowning.

Nope. He was still knocked out with his cheek smooshed against the pillow. Like he’d actually bounce back *that* quickly this time.

Beside him on the sofa, 808 had found the messaging application, and wanted to be included. She was swiping down in a digging motion on the keys on Chai’s tablet. Was she reading their messages?

p:3ppermint: false alarm! that’s 808 on the keyboard. i gave her his tablet to keep her busy since she kept meowing at me

chai-fi-rush: weshubefhuc0ijp0h9h[-]=]]=]=][P}[]01001101fiujhygtfrdsawug&(GY#%6w01000101sdefsvreh01001111trbfPL{)O+]p-]-+}=]p-]PPp-]oO{01010111)=p[_O{p-]p[0ko[[pkopj

p:3ppermint: i think she wants to be included lol

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: Oh! Cute! ^o^ She keysmashes so similarly to Chai… I got confused for a minute there.

K_Orsica: Wait, Peppermint,

K_Orsica: If you have his tablet, why not look into that, too? See if you can find anything that might give you a clue.

p:3ppermint: yeah these are good starting points

chai-fi-rush: @/[?!/[?D01011001gdhfjgljiynhtersfsSst -$'¥♡}●|•\{|}€{●}¤¤《》《《¤¤▪︎▪︎▪︎☆•|°|~5\6●●€€□€₩!/[?!!/[?!/[?♡₩01000001€{{○●¤¤☆☆☆○▪︎☆○☆☆☆☆○☆▪︎▪︎☆☆☆○☆☆•☆☆☆☆☆●□■》

K_Orsica: 808, how are you making those symbols? Half of them are squares to me.

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: They’re squares to you? O_o How old is your tablet, Korsica.

chai-fi-rush: a

K_Orsica: Thank you, 808. Very thought-provoking.

p:3ppermint: OK i think i’m going back to the hideout to sleep for however long i pass out for, then i'll look at some books and see if i can find anything useful on his tablet

Macarooooooooooooooooooooon: Good luck! o7 Take it easy!

CNMN#0001: Remember to respect his privacy, Miss Peppermint; there are things you may regret discovering about a person if you dig too far. 🙁

K_Orsica: We’ll be here, chipping away at restoring power across our departments. Let us know if you need or find anything.

p:3ppermint: thanks guys bye

chai-fi-rush: ASRra$hi&*01100010guhou97^*T%&*6huojjbDYItuuu01111001uaefyuy01100101omna01100101ryupmsyk8ihhA)H*DIPtmkmTAoimjW

Okay, she should definitely take typing privileges away from 808. At least for now, while her friends are busy working. With that settled, Peppermint firmly shut her bulky laptop shut. Stretching herself up into a stand from the side of Chai’s hospital bed, she knows that staying here all day won’t get her any leads.

Stuffing her laptop into her weighty duffle bag to sling it over her shoulder, she walked around to the sofa. 808 was still sending keysmashes with blissful fun.

"Awww," Peppermint cooed, scooping the tablet from her, "You wanna help, huh?" Before picking up 808 to cradle the little kitty in her arms. She hugged her close to her face, cone and all, "You've already done a lot this week, 808. I'll try not to ask you to do much more." She was met with a resounding, pleasant purr in response.

After a moment, Peppermint looked down at Chai; her soft expression hardened into a troubled one.

All that yelling he did on the hovercycle was still fresh in her mind. Peppermint always heard him shouting out of fun, bliss, panic, confusion, and yeah– frustration too?…

But, his voice never sounded so hostile and sharp until his shouting was directed at himself.

#hi fi rush #hi-fi rush #peppermint and 808 centric chapter baby lets GOOOOOOOO i love writijg these two

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knowltonsrangers · 2 years

Note

Hi! So uh finals a kicking my ass rn and I was wondering if I could get some Nathan Hale fluff/comfort? Maybe how he would react to y/n being stressed out abt their studies or something academic related? I know this prompt is vague and maybe kinda confusing so go nuts! I love your work! Ideal location is going great so far!

[a/n: glitch ❤️❤️!! I feel you!! absolutely you can!! and no it’s not vague at all, I gotchu! best of luck on finals, you’ve got this!! thank you so much for all your love & support, please enjoy :) ]

Nathan Hale x reader

Suddenly, it all went in slow motion. The way the never ending assignments list dwindled down to the three biggest ones you had neglected wholly the entire semester. And something about saving them for last, something about looking at the prompts and just not doing them, sounded great about now.

The stress swelled in your chest when you caught the time, feeling the pressure build.

“Oh yikes, why are your shoulders so tense?”

It’s a simple question, one that can be supplied with an easy enough answer, but to which you forgot that Nathan was on the bed behind you, reading a book.

When you yelp in response, spinning wildly in your swivel chair to catch the blondes gaze.

“Have you forgotten I was here?”

He watches you curiously, catching the way your shoulders droop downwards and eyes move in and out of focus.

“Yeah…”

Admitting sheepishly, you rub at your upper arms in an embarrassed way. Nathan had been so quiet, so completely silent, that it wouldn’t have taken much to get you jumping in your seat.

“That’s okay. You seem a bit stressed, though,”

“Mhm. Very. I need a Red Bull and a miracle to get these assignments done.”

“Want help?”

He basically bounces off the bed, tossing his book to the side effortlessly.

“And stop drinking Red Bull’s, they’re bad for you.”

“No, I did this to myself, you don’t need—hey!”

It’s almost amusing the way he shoves you out of your assignments, the ones you were trying to accomplish.

“I have a teaching degree, I can help.”

“I don’t think that applies to a research analysis on—“

“And why not? Such little faith.”

You watch as his blue eyes run across the screen of your computer, taking mental notes here and there as he pauses.

“Why’d you save this for last minute, y/n?”

“Do you think that’s helping.”

You deadpan, his freckled face turning back to stare at you.

“Mhm, sounds like you need a break. You sound cranky.”

“No, I can’t take a break, I need—Nathan! What are you doing?!”

He’s nudging you in your wheely chair, apparently. Moving you closer to the bed, where he promptly scoops you up in his arms, then throws you right smack in the middle of the mattress.

You land with an oof.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, even get a word in yourself, he’s dived on top of you, but not fully putting his entire weight, caging you between his arms.

“Don’t worry, y/n. You’ll get it done. I promise. And I can help you, that’s what I’m here for,”

Nathan leans down to pepper your face in kisses, the soft touch makes a red heat crawl to your face.

A smile makes its way to your lips, and you can’t help but feel a little better. If anything, the assignments and exams would get done. Finals week was meant to be hell, and unfortunately there was no way around it. Just perseverance.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks,”

Right when you’ve calmed down, he reaches down and placed a cold hand on your stomach, reaching under the hem of your shirt.

“Yeah, aren’t I always?”

“Noo—please don’t—Nathan!”

As he begins to tickle you, just enough to get that tiny smile into a full-blown grin, he knows that he’s gotten your mind off the subject for just a few minutes. You needed it, a second to recollect and move forward. He’d do it any time if you asked, even without asking. He loves you, and that’s what it means.

That’s what he’s here for.

[a/n: YOU GOT THIS!!! hang in there!!! mwah xoxo♥️]

#sul writes #turn amc #turn washington's spies #nathan hale #nathan hale headcanons #nathan hale x reader

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cloutchaserkineme · 7 months

Text

midnight disco by proxy

Feb. 21, 2024, 11:59 PM, somewhat near a beach whose lots are owned by celebrities and politicians

I'm a working student, and I love my job. Writing is quite possibly the skill that I have consistently honed the most since I was young, and the fact that I get to write about what I want and they edit and publish it just like that, that my work lets people give me answers when I ask them questions... it's very much addicting to me.

I was born on a Mercury day, under a Mercury hour, with my chart ruler itself ruled by a Mercury-ruled sign. If I didn't love writing and words and talking to people and finding out about the world, I'd be dead. Or at least, not me.

So when my work gives me the opportunity to go to a street festival (I LOVE hearing street drums, they're my favorite live instrument and so accessible where I'm from) in a town close to a well-known but not super touristy beach, with free transportation and accomodation, you bet your ass I'd skip introductory class for Constitutional Law II!!

Which I did. They discussed house rules and case digests, and I didn't miss much, which was fine to me. I preferred watching people dance uninhibitedly and clamoring over a boodle fight than be stuck in my house with headphones on.

But the thing is, you can take the student out of law school, but you sure as hell can't take the law workload out of said student. 😭😭 which is why I am sitting in our guide's house, listening to the speakers a literal mile away blast out my favorite throwback, ass shaking, leg waggling songs.

(I have, of course, finished some cases and did do some reading before I admitted sleepiness and put it away. But I didn't join my workmates because the hassle, the tiredness, the fact that it would be so awkward because I don't know them Like That, to party and get down and embarass myself on the streets— literally, since the approx. three meter tall speakers were on the concrete highway, closed to motorcycles and cars, in order to fulfill its annual secondary purpose as the festival's open access free-for-all dance floor.)

First day of criminal procedure tomorrow! And 16 cases is a baby breeze compared to the hurricane of last year's 60 for Criminal Law (which I didn't finish or submit) and 20 for Constitutional Law I/Political Law (which I did finish writing but did not read thoroughly because 20 cases x100something pages is insane for me as a beginner). But I can't finish it all anyway, and with a somewhat vague recollection of court jurisdictions, I feel monkey-confident that I'll be fine if called tomorrow.

I have been through one semester of law school where that monkey-confidence feeling was very, VERY wrong, and misleading, and did not serve me usefully at all.

So IDK what street they'd scrape me off of after the end of this.

I'm thinking I'm getting a horrible reputation of being an elitist, mildly smart snob because of how quiet I normally am around them and my non-participation in work outings. But I have to read this!

Anyway, I am already here, chilling and taking a somewhat paid vacation (oh, the woes of the minimally waged) from the city. Even though the driver hates us because of a miscommunication (between pick-up times and his stress from lack of sleep and food— which led to him endangering our lives for approx. 3 hrs by overtaking four cars on a double yellow lane highway and going faster when we hinted he was going too fast), I still enjoyed my brief moment here, with the drums.

God, I love hearing drums live. Street dance competitions where I'm from (street as in, Carnaval in Rio, not Step Up 2: The Streets, though I would gladly watch the latter too if there were any around here) always have repetitive melodies since there's rarely any incentive to creatively bang out sticks on water drums and LPG tanks besides an additional 2 points on some judge's paper. But the drums are so LOUD and OUT THERE.

It is the only form of big noise that I like. Concerts and dance halls I get tired of after an hour or if the playlist sucks, ambulance and fire protection wangs make me too anxious, and me and my friend's big laughters are always followed by a shushing by our Obligatory Shusher (sometimes me) so that other people won't find us too annoying and kick us out of places.

But God, drums. LOOK AT ME I AM HERE I AM THE BEATING OF YOUR HEART AND YOUR MOTHER'S HEART THE FIRST AUDITORY TASTE OF THE MATERIAL WORLD AND THE WAVES THAT WILL AFFECT YOU FROM HERE AND OUT. LISTEN, AND MOVE, OR NOT— YOUR VIBRATION IS INEVITABLE. I AM AIR, COMPRESSED AND EXPANDED, IN YOUR LUNGS AND OUT OF IT. I WILL STARTLE YOU. IT IS GOOD FOR YOUR SOUL, TO BE SHAKEN OCCASSIONALLY IN ITS SHELL AS A SORT OF INTEGRITY TEST. HEED. MY. THUMPING. CALL!!!

...I really should be studying law better. I need to be a lawyer because with my skill set, that's how I'd make the most money and still help out in the community. I need money for a plane ticket, a passport, a visa, secure and clean accommodation, and money to happily buy food and presents for my loved ones (who may or may not be traveling with me! On my dime!) in the street festivals I hope to witness live in the world.

(30) 12:29 AM, February 22, 2024, same place.

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franeridart · 6 years

Note

Wow Hi I can't spell for shit but I was wondering if you could draw some more KamiSero? Your art style is really beautiful and there are not much KamiSero art >•

Awww thank you!!! And in the future I might, yeah! Right now I’m a bit swamped by the zine things and using the time I take away from it to draw low effort stuff or my main ships so I can’t promise it’ll happen soon, but I still like the ship lots so !!! might happen!!

Anon said:Hey thanks for that last art I know you're probably just staying on model and it doesn't really mean anything but it felt really good to see a character with my body type for once so thank you

Anon the pleasure was all mine! Miruko’s body type is beautiful to look at and a pleasure to draw, and if my indulging myself could make you happy then that makes it even better spent time!!

Anon said:I love you. That is all. Carry on.

Thank you!! I love you too!!!!!

Anon said:that drawing of hawks blessed me and my children and the children of my children, i feel the salvation in my bones, i've been purified

I dunno which one specifically you’re talking about, but thank you!!!! ;^;

Anon said:I just wanna say I love Baku I’m goods! Peace

Hell yeah anon love that boy!! Smother him in love!!!! Give him all the affection his heart can take and then more!!!!!

Anon said:This is from the anon asking about todoraka and iideku fusions, I just got far enough to find them, sorry for bothering you earlier!

Not a bother at all, don’t worry about it!!! And thank you for liking my designs enough to ask about them!!!!

Anon said:Hey!! I love your art so so so much and i was wondering if you could get in some mina and bakugo friendship content bc they're just,,, so underrated as friends and I love them

Ahhhhhhh the Baku // Mina friendship debate, nice, hadn’t been around on this blog for a while - you know, the reason why there isn’t much content and their friendship is somewhat underrated (unless we’re talking about full squad content, there’s a lot of baku and mina there) is that, going only by canon, they... aren’t friends. Of course Mina’s part of the squad, but she is more in virtue of the fact that she’s besties with Kaminari and Sero and has her backstory relationship with Kirishima, than because she has had any significant interactions with Bakugou (a bit like Jirou’s a member of the squad through Sero and Kaminari and Bakugou even if she’s got no relationship with Kirishima at all, all in all) - I, personally, like to think they could be great friends, you know? But if we’re talking canon I can count the times they interacted on the fingers of one hand (the only serious one being during the sports fest, which Mina herself commented as Bakugou picking her only cause of her acid being a good strategy against Todoroki’s ice)

I know this is sort of a digression from your question, but, as you obviously noticed since you sent me this question, lately whenever I have focused on Bakugou’s friendships in my drawings Mina hasn’t been there, and people have been more or less aggressively pointing it out to me, like I was doing a disservice to a canon friendship by not portraying it - when in truth the relationship in question has nearly no canon basis at all. So I just wanna say, from the bottom of my heart and honestly, I’m sorry if my liking to delve into and focus on Bakugou’s canon friendships makes you sad, but if the focus of a drawing or a set of drawings is supposed to be Bakugou and the relationships Horikoshi gifted him, then Mina’s most probably not gonna be there (for now, I’m still hoping Hori will add her to his growing list of canon friends soon *crosses fingers*)

Either way this has nearly nothing to do with your question and it wasn’t even really directed at you specifically, I just used the chance to address something that was bothering me a bit - THAT SAID! I do have something I mean to draw that’s gonna be focused on Bakugou and include Mina! It might not be exactly what you’re looking for, but I hope you’ll like it anyway, at least a tiny little bit! ;^;

Anon said:I loved your Have a Nice day comic. It really gave me a nice day. It’s totally cute I can imagine them living together and sing this every morning Love your art xoxoxo

Ahhhh thank you so much!!!! I’m super glad you liked it!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Bro I just wanted to thank you! Becuase of your amazing art on boku no hero academia. It got me intrested in checking it out. And let me tell you, I love this show sooo much,even if its getting really intense right now. So its all thanks to you that I even started watching it.Its even more amazing becuase I get to admire your stunning work base on it.Thank You!!!!! 💕💕💕💕

HECK I’m so glad you checked it out and ended up liking it!!!! I hope you’ll keep on enjoying it from now on too, anon!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Hey fran! I love your art style so much!! Will we ever see more of the Bakushima neighbor’s cat au?

I KEEP ON PROCRASTINATING ON THAT ONE!!! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY!!!! It’s in the projects but I never!!! sit down!!!! to draw it!!!!! So I wanna say yes, because that’s the plan! But when I’m being honest I’m not so sure anon orz

Anon said:Okay but like.... hawks is hot right?? Its not just me??

Given the reaction the whole fandom has had to him, I’m pretty sure it’s not just you anon hahaha

Anon said:AAAAAA I BOUGHT A STICKER FROM YOUR REDBUBBLE ACCOUNT AND IT ARRIVED TODAY AND I LOVE IT!!!!!!

I’M SUPER GLAD TO HEAR THAT!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BUYING!!!!!!!

Anon said:Could you possibly draw more of the Deku + Kirishima fusion?

I... dunno? If I ever feel in the mood to play around with that AU again? But to be honest if I were to draw something that isn’t just a design for it it’s probably... not gonna be about kiri and deku of all people............ so I can’t promise anything, sorry!

Anon said:Hi! I know you haven’t really touched the fusions au in a while but please consider: miritama fusion

I have considered it! It’s the first one I’m gonna draw if I’ll ever feel like going back on the fusions!

Anon said:Let kirishima touch the butty

I’m 100% sure Bakugou lets him touch anything he wants, but if you want depictions of that this blog is not the right place to ask, anon hahaha

Anon said:First off, you draw the greatest art/headcanons for KiriBaku I've ever seen! Secondly, I found it funny since Bakugou is almost exactly like his mom, and since she got with Bakugou's dad by aggressively hitting on him, what if there was a scenario where Bakugou did that to Kirishima? Idk, I just thought it would be funny.

I actually have a couple of comics based on that concept!! Somewhere... in my bakushima tag............ I’ll def draw more on the same line in the future, tho!

Anon said:I know you posted your batteryacid (kamimina) picture a while ago but I just saw it and I'm sobbing I love it!

YO that makes me super happy, thank you!!!! I love that ship so much, it’s nice to know you liked the little thing I drew for it!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:hi, i just binge watched bnha for the first time and now that i understand all your comics i fucking love them, i'm in love, i love bakugou, i love them all, i love your art

And I love YOU to be hecking honest!!!! Thank you for loving my boy, anon!!!!

Anon said:i just want kirishima to meet bakugou’s family one time in the show and his mother is probably gonna wanna make him her second son and bakugous LOSING IT

I DO hope that’s gonna happen in the manga canon sooner or later, but meanwhile Kirishima met Mitsuki in one of the novels! She’d been taken hostage by a villain, and Bakugou yelled at her for it, and she yelled right back at him like she wasn’t in the hands of a villain right then, and Kirishima said “as expected from Bakugou’s mom” and Bakugou said “don’t admire her!” or something on that line - I’d give you a link if I knew how I tagged it when I reblogged it, but I’m sure if you dig a bit around you can find it! Maybe on @aitaikimochi‘s blog, they translated a lot of kiribaku novel moments!

Anon said:im supposing that you do, but why do you think you like bakugou so much? personally i just like the angry scowl-y but fluffy characters haha and really hes so!! cute!!! and cool!!! really!!!!! hes so good at so many things but he sucks so badly ay feelings its so!! endearing!!!! apart from this i meant to praise you and your work but i ended up screaming about bakugou hahaha. i love him too muchasgshdjl

Oh heck anon, you really don’t wanna get into this, if I started talking about why I love Bakugou as much as I do I’d probably end up saying a 10k worth of words hah I love everything about him, everything he is and everything he has the potential to be, everything he’s changed about himself and every step he’s taken along the way to be who he is right now. I love his personality and I love how strong he is, I love how hard he works, I love how angry he is and how honest and direct and genuine in everything he does he is. I love the way he interacts with people, I love his expressions SO MUCH, I love his habit of speaking in hyperboles and I love how he’s a fast thinker and how he has to go back and walk through every step he skipped when he explains things to people. I love that he presents himself as a genius when actually he just pours everything he has in being the best at everything he tries doing, I love that he’s autocritical and that he cares and that he admits when he’s wrong and that he cries, I love the fact that he cries a lot. I love that he’s set on his path and that he takes everything life throws at him and keeps walking head up and square shoulders, and also I love his eyes and his hero costume and the fact that he wants to be intimidating and yells DIE at inanimate objects and enjoys hiking in his spare time and that he calls people nerd like he isn’t one himself I just. Love him. So damn much.

Anon said:Franeriiiiii~ I see that you're trying new techniques on your arts! Very nice, I enjoy watching you come up with new clothing and whatnot. I also see that the painting is a bit different, more detailed. Just dropping by to let you know I see your efforts ❤ keep on exploring! Maybe you'll discover that you can do what you couldn't in the past. As always, have a good day and much love \0/

SOB thank you SO MUCH, anon!!!!!

Anon said:Hey Fran, how are you? I was wondering if you have any tips on how to know where to place the shadows in a drawing? I'm still a beginner and this is the hardest part for me... And I love your art very much!! You're amazing, thank you for sharing your talent with us!

God, I would love to give you a hand there but to be fair I have zero clue what I’m doing when shading, anon ;-; I go a lot about it following more gut feeling and what looks right, than any actual tecnique (which probably shows to people who have a deeper understanding of it than I do orz) the best I can tell you to do is to try to draw from real life, but really this is such a hard question for me to answer when I myself need to work more on it ;^; I’m so sorry!

Anon said:Bakushima alternative ship name: POPROCKS

A GREAT NAME I’m nearly sure I read a fic called that once!

Anon said:I just wanted to thank you for sharing your amazing work for us. You literaly made my day

AHHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

Anon said:I just finished going through your kiribaku tag and I honestly don't know if I'm feeling fulfilled for all of it or empty because I just saw all of it daNG YOUR STYLE JUST FUCKING FITs KIRIBAKU SO MUCH I REALLY LOVE YOUR KRBK CONTENT AND THE KIDS FUUUUUUUKCKCKCKK. I'm really, really looking forward for more of your art but for now I gotta go through all your other content as well. Ps. Have I mentioned that I fucking love how you draw feet?????

OH MAN that’s such a nice thing to hear, that my style fits them!!! My style changed so much since I started drawing them that they probably influenced it to begin with, but I’m happy you like how it looks on them nonetheless!!! thank you so so much for the kind words and for taking the time to go through the whole tag!!!

Anon said:Hi! I’m an artist and i’ve been trying to draw boy teens for a while now but i cant seem to make them have muscles without making them look like sorta adults. Any tips? I like how you draw them

I dunno how qualified I am to answer this question since I’m still playing around with my style trying to work that out, but most of what I keep an eye out for are proportions and also how round I make the traits, I guess? The rounder the younger, as far as my art style goes - I also make the eyes bigger the younger my character is supposed to be, but that probably only works if you don’t mind your style not being all that realistic hahaha

Anon said:I want to go through and the like every single one of your posts but I feel like that's a little bit excessive. Since I can't do that, I would like to tell you how amazing you are and how even when I'm having a bad day your art always makes me smile. I hope you're having a lovely day!

Thank you so so much for this ask, anon!!!!!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day/week/month too!!!

Anon said:New hawk boy lookin like a snack.

I would lie if I said the first thing I thought when I read this ask was “I guess we’re talking chicken wings”, tbh

Anon said:Fran, I love your sketch of Yuuto!! :3 Do you ship anyone from yowapeda?

Thank you!!! And I guess I ship more or less anything with a vague canon basis? Which is, like, a whole damn lot of things thank you Watanabe for your gay biking children - I’m not particularly invested into anything at the moment, tho!

Anon said:Whenever I'm having a shitty day, I come back to your blog and scroll through it, the way you draw krbk is really sweet and gives me the warmth I need when I feel down. Thank you for sharing your beautiful art, you're amazing.

Sob thank you so much, oh my god! This is such a nice ask to get, I’m glad I can help you feel a lil bit better, anon ;^;

Anon said:Fran your iida is real real cute and I'm love

THANK YOU! I think he’s way less square than he’s supposed to be... I’m working on that lol

Anon said:KIRI'S PINEAPPLE HAIR??? SAVED ME. MY HEART IS SAVED. SOUL?? SAVED. LIFE??? SAVED.

I’M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THAT!!!!!

Anon said:that drawing of hawks ended my life oh my goddddd he's bEAUTIFUL

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Tbh I thought of Hawk teaching Tokoyami how to fly with his quirk like a bird would, but birds just fricken shove their kids out of the nest.

At this point I wouldn’t even put that past Hawks, t b h

Anon said:I love all your art and I only recently discovered all of your old kirikamibaku stuff and was wondering if you'd consider drawing it again?

YEP! Not in the near future tho, as explained in the answer to the first ask up here!

Anon said:For your fusion au do you have any of the dances figured out yet?

Only the KiriBaku one, which is just hand holding - the AU was never meant to be more than just the designs tho, so I can’t say I spent too long on this sorta things!

Anon said:Your art is so nice and beautiful that you could probably draw any two characters together and say it's a ship and I would just accept it without question like "You right omg how have I not noticed this befORE IT'S GENIUS" and it could literally even be two rocks. Not even characters. Just rocks. Bless you

THANK YOU this is!!!!!!!! such a cool feeling omg so much power to have.......... I’m gonna need to use it wisely (I say, but the first thing I thought when I read the two rocks thing was “I did draw Kiri and Tetsu in the past!” so I guess wise isn’t a thing I am at all lol)

Anon said:I’m sure you get asked this a lot but is it okay if I post some art of yours on amino? (With credits to you of course)

Nope, sorry! I don’t allow reposts with or without credit, please don’t repost my stuff - if you really wanna share you can just drop a link to the original post~

Anon said:Can I repost your art in my Instagram page with credit please ?

Anon said:Can i repost your art with credit ?

Again, sorry but I’d prefer it if you did not do that!

Anon said:Hello! Opinions on iida x deku x todoroki? I love ur art sm and ur latest thing(which inspired this ask haha) hope ur having a nice day!

Love it!!! It’s one of my main ot3s in bnha!!!! And thank you!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Can you draw more Bakugo with glasses?? I love my goth/jock/nerd son. (I also love your art btw :'D💕)

Thank you!!! And I can! And most probably will!!! Can’t say how soon that’s gonna be, tho!

Anon said:was the art of bakugou doing kirishima's hand pose/stance based off of the official card game or was that a super happy coincidence? :'D

Seeing as I posted the comic weeks before the card came out, I’d say it was a coincidence haha that said! In the card Bakugou isn’t actually doing Kiri’s pose! He’s doing his own, which is adorably similar to Kirishima’s - one closed hand against an open palm as he lats out an explosion, you see him take the stance as he gets ready to fight now and again in the manga and anime!

Anon said:Psst, you got that Bakukamikiri?

Sadly, not at the moment :( as I said, maybe in the future~

Anon said:I love your art more than anything and your Kiribaku keeps me alive, especially now it's finals week. Also your Kaminari is a beautiful boy who deserves all my love. I have to ask for more of him. I love you omg!!!! Please never stop drawing! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

More Kaminari is coming your way! Definitely! Since I draw him a lot all things considered and you therefor you don’t really need to ask to see more of him haha

#fran answers #used my free day which i gave to myself as an undeserved gift to answer some asks finally #so many!!! why do i always do this #i might have missed a couple #im sure i did miss a couple #i have vague recollection of reading asks i did not answer in here #HMMMMM #sorry if it was your ask pls feel free to send it again if i missed it!#anonymous

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

so so many thanks to everyone who read even one of these stories. i am forever grateful for all the support i've received; every comment, every kudos, every reblog, every like - they all mean so much. i'm overwhelmed, honestly, but in the very best way. ily all 🥰

day one: against all odds (we're still here) for @trkstrnd

Carlos will hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused on his task that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

a simple trip to the grocery store quickly turns to disaster for tk and carlos

day two: out, damned spot for anon

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

day three: the meetings for those in my wake for @freddieholic

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news, and almost always about their son. Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas, which is why she thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Gwyn, it’s TK. He's... They think we should say goodbye."

day four: a friend in me for 📍 anon

Carlos has come to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But, right now, as she sits hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, he's never seen her look so small.

the story of how nancy and carlos become the new champions of 126 games nights

day five: truth is heavier than fiction for anon

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

day six: slowly, and then all at once for @pragmaticoptimist34

The realisation that he loves Carlos hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

And at the worst possible moment.

We are getting updates on the active shooter situation at the Four Seasons Hotel. Austin Police Department have closed off the area and officers are currently preparing to enter the building to detain the suspect. It is as yet unknown if there have been any civilian casualties, but—

“Paul, turn the damn TV back on.”

“No.”

five times tk can't admit his feelings about carlos, and one time he finally does

day seven: the promise of tomorrow for anon

Up until five minutes ago, Carlos had been terrified of never having TK in his arms again. Now, the thought of letting him go scares him just as much, and TK seems to feel the same, if the way he’s clutching at Carlos’s jacket and pulling it tight across his back is any indication.

Carlos hugs him close, sinking down to his knees as TK falls into the chair behind him, letting the rest of the room fade away to nothing as he realises that they weren’t too late—that TK is here, with him, alive and mostly whole.

day eight: we'll hold each other soon for @221bsunsettowers

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away.

It's the last good memory Carlos has, and he's going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he's going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK's smile.

day nine: now i am just but the wayward man for anon

Ben is glaring at him again.

Klaus is very familiar with this specific glare—it’s the one Ben breaks out when Klaus is being ‘stubborn’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘a fucking asshole junkie with no self-respect who only cares about the next high and, really, it’s a fucking miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Klaus’.

He has to hand it to him. Ben really does have him down to a tee.

winter is approaching and klaus has nowhere to go. his siblings are his only option—meaning he effectively has no options.

day ten: i can't imagine my life without you for 📍 anon

It had come completely out of left field—one minute everything was fine, the next Carlos had turned to him with guarded eyes and a clenched jaw, and said six words that sent TK’s whole world crashing down.

“I think we need a break.”

nobody likes to be asked 'trouble in paradise?', particularly when the answer is yes.

day eleven: start again from the beginning for anon

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

day twelve: let me love you when your heart is tired for anon

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

day thirteen: couldn't utter my love when it counted for 📍 anon

TK takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken. For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

after the boba date, tk lets carlos go. they're friends, which is working just fine, until a horrific accident threatens to take even that away from them.

day fourteen: if i walk out the door (a thousand eyes) for anon

TK gets this feeling sometimes, a sort of prickling at his back, like someone’s behind him, breathing down his neck. At first, it was only a once-in-a-while situation, so he thinks nothing of it; when it becomes an everyday occurrence, he starts to wonder, but he’s probably just being paranoid. The shooting, kidnapping, firehouse explosion, and the fire at his and Carlos’s house had all taken their toll, and TK’s just generally more on edge these days.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the feeling, not even Carlos. There’s no reason to fuck up everyone else’s peace with something so stupid. It’ll go away eventually; TK’s sure of it.

That is, until one of the lots just down from the firehouse gets occupied.

day fifteen: find you here inside the dark for @fanfic-corner

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

day sixteen: accidents happen for @ilovemosss

So, Jason reflects, it may not have been the best idea to take Pythagoras out training while they’re all suffering from a severe lack of sleep. Being the more logical of them, Pythagoras, to his credit, had attempted to talk him out of it, but Jason ignored him.

He very much regrets that decision now.

day seventeen: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team) for @laelipoo

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the little blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

day eighteen: in perfect harmony for @anyotherheartwilldo

Here’s the thing—Carlos doesn’t believe in signs. He used to when he was younger, raised on his abuela’s stories, but as he’d gotten older his father had taught him that what mattered was the choices he made. He’s the only one who has a say in the way his life turns out, and if he wants something, he has to put in the work to get it.

But there comes a point—namely, after his fifth thwarted attempt to propose to TK—when he begins to wonder if the universe really does have something against him.

proposing to tk proves far more complicated than carlos had first thought.

day nineteen: whatever here that's left of me (is yours) for anon

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie? Was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

post-2.12, carlos finds comfort in tk's hoodies.

day twenty: can't smile without you for anon

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

a before, during, and after of tk's kidnapping in a hole where your memory goes

day twenty-one: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide for @freddieholic

“Can I ask you something else?”

TK stiffens at the sound of Mateo’s voice, a nervous note to it that wasn’t there last time. Something tells him he knows exactly what Mateo wants to ask; still, he turns to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as casually as he can manage. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Mateo trails off, biting his lip and avoiding TK’s gaze. “I mean, do you… I mean—”

“You can say it, you know,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “If you want to know if I’m thinking about heading out and getting high, then just ask.”

five times tk turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms when he wants to use + one time he finally asks for help

day twenty-two: know me crazy, soothe me daily for anon

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him about it. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally."

in which carlos gets a little over-protective and tk is mildly exasperated

day twenty-three: lover, be good to me for anon

Carlos holds his arms out, and TK comes willingly, setting what Carlos now recognises as a tray of food carefully on the bed. “What’s this?”

TK stares as if it’s obvious. “Date night.”

“What?”

TK pauses, then gasps. “You’re right.” He pats himself down frantically, then pulls an object out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. It’s a little electric tea light—real candles long since banned from the bedroom—and Carlos watches in bemusement as TK flicks it on and sets it down on the tray. “Now it’s date night.”

his fiancé being bed-bound isn't going to keep tk from date night

day twenty-four: bring you in from the cold for anon

As a cop, Carlos has always been uncomfortably aware of his own mortality. He’s considered his own death more than is probably healthy, but when you’re facing down the barrel of a gun almost every single day, it’s kind of forced on you.

He’s imagined himself being shot, stabbed, strangled, and everything in between.

But he’s not sure he ever pictured dying in a walk-in freezer after getting trapped there by mistake.

day twenty-five: heaving through corrupted lungs for anon

TK is itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

when carlos falls ill, they think it's just a bad cold. but when tk goes to check on him, he's in for a nasty shock.

day twenty-six: slowly becoming lovers for @pragmaticoptimist34

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

tk and carlos, getting to know each other and falling in love

day twenty-seven: and curse the gods for @girlwhowasntthere

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

day twenty-eight: ignoring every warning for @moviegeek03

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he's hurting.

day twenty-nine: can you beat back the night? for @girlwhowasntthere

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

day thirty: ease my mind for @silvarafael

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

day thirty-one: scars turn to memories for anon

Their front door is open. It’s wide open, and the wood of the door frame is broken, splinters littering the driveway and the floor of the front room. TK’s heart stops in his chest as he surveys the scene, his brain going blank, struggling to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Everything is quiet in the front room, not even a table setting out of place. TK creeps further into their home, his every nerve on edge as he barely breathes for fear of alerting whoever’s here of his presence.

And then, he remembers.

Carlos was off shift tonight. He was here. Alone.

#masterlist #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Note

Could you please do 4 with lots of banter maybe? And an amnesia fic with happy ending with any prompt that you haven't done yet? The first fic I read was based on Harry losing his memory and you wrote the 27 prompt so very beautifully. So please?

Thank you so much @slytherinnbitch for your request and your compliments. All the same for you, you are incredible my love.

It feels like rain

Dialogue Prompt- 18. We both know that i should walk away, but i can't.| TW- Alcohol | Angst with happy ending | Amnesia |

The smells of the scented candles invaded the entire living room as the music poured melodiously echoing the corners. Draco walked around the house making sure everything was close to perfect as they had planned, it'll be the perfect belated anniversary as they had planned. Everything was planned.

Only it wasn't.

The phone rung loudly, making Draco to stop chopping the coriander leaves. Huffing as the ringing grew louder, he wiped his hands over his floral customised apron embroidered with his and Harry's name and he finally picked up the call.

" hello "

" mr. Malfoy it's an emergency, we need you-"

" Macy I told you I can't. Didn't I tell you to find someone else-"

" Sir, it'-its-"

" it's what?"

" it's your boyfriend"

Draco’s breath was caught in his throat, his heartbeat quickening at the pronouncement. And then, everything stilled.

____________________________

What it's to be in love, draco had always wondered. Up until now he always thought that perhaps loving was in showering harry with gifts, or Maybe bringing him flowers, or making breakfast for him before leaving, or taking harry out for dinner, or maybe even letting him cry over his shoulder after he had a rough day but when life hurled and kicked draco's door down, everything as if twisted into untwisting circles and suddenly loving became a remembering to him.

It was no longer bringing harry his coffee in bed, but it was him adding quips everytime draco tried to soften thing's up. He still sees in Harry's movements how a part of him was twitching to touch draco, to feel him, to perhaps remember him but it was maybe harry holding himself back, the new harry, the one that would not allow conversations with draco for more than 10 minutes.

He could recall that night when he ran to the infirmary to look in depth what exactly had happened. 4 hours in the room, healing wounds, casting spells, stitching injuries, cleansing harry, he woke up in Draco's absence Only to be informed later,

" Harry's suffered amnesia "

Hope was what he was left to Drown into. A lingering small flicker of hope that perhaps in those long stares Draco gave harry while medicating him, he'd remember, or maybe he'd remember him in all the small conversation Draco's tries to make, or perhaps, he'll remember through those eyes. He hoped, and he hopes, still.

But Draco hated it in all honesty, but he had Faith, he had Faith that the man he loved is still in there and will one day come out. Only the time was running out and draco would soon have to let go of harry from keeping under observation. He was afraid that in the time all he's left, that if he doesn't remember, then how would Draco cope. It was already hard to look after harry every single day and feel his eyes brim with tears of trying to find his lost treasure.

" Macy told you me you spend a lot more time looking after me than Anyone else? What makes me special malfoy ?" Harry has asked one day

Draco stopped in his movements, giving him a curt smile" th- perhaps Because I know if I spend more time with you, you'll remember "

" why are you so obsessed with me remembering ? I mean it's not like it's such a big deal right. If anything I'm happy to have forgotten something's even " harry chuckled lightly.

Draco gulped down the knot that formed in the center of his chest, dug his nails firmly into this palms wishing that Harry would take his words back, for once harry could look at draco with a vision of more than just hatred..

As if harry sensed it he added " I- I don't know if we were friends Draco, if I have mistakenly hurt your feelings by saying that, then I'm sorry "

Draco hummed and practically ran out of the room. In that time Draco decided that not talking with harry would be a much better move than to have his feelings hurt everytime Harry opened his mouth.

But it was hard, it was hard when he realised that Harry had not once opened his mouth to say I love you, because he didn't remember..

It was late in night one day when Draco was attending harry as his last patient before he could go in loneliness,when it happened,

" can I ask you something ?" Harry asked. Draco was cleansing Harry's wounds on his back when he hummed..

"Have you,” He paused, his eyes fluttering close for a moment as he cleared his throat and asked, “have you ever been in love?"

Draco paused his movements, his heart clenching almost painfully in his chest, a knot in his throat.

" you don't have to answer if you don't want to "

Harry's muscles in the back tensed up with Draco's left arm resting on it. Draco inhaled sharply resuming cleansing when he responded "Yes,” He breathed, “yes, I have "

" what does it feel like ?" Harry asked, looking a little over his shoulder as though perhaps he wanted to watch Draco.

Draco licked his lips, smiling to himself a little as he remembered the Times when Harry had remembered Loving him " it's- it's complicated "

" how exactly ?" Harry asked again

" it's- love - it feels like rain "

" feels like rain ?"

They simultaneously whispered.

" how- how do you?" Draco stilled in a jerk

Harry turned around to face Draco, a weird look on his face "there's- there are things in my head. Like there are saying, they're all jumbled. Like I know it's there, but I can't remember who said them to me. All of it is not lost you know. At least that's what I think. But it happens only in the late hours of night when I remember something's and they vanish in the morning. I don't how to feel, but I know how I've felt before, it's all weird "

And in the dying flickering fire as if someone had dropped a log again, the fire of hope grew again in Draco.

"so- y- you're saying you remember but you can't remember who ?" Draco asked cautiously..

" I mean- yeah I think " harry replied.

Draco thought for a moment " I- "

" I feel as though most of these sayings are from Ginny "

Draco's breath hitched, stopping at the hilt, suddenly feelings as all of his organs collapsed into a whole, his brain screaming and all the memories automatically putting a lock on themselves and realisation hit Draco. Harry remembered his life before Draco, or so as it felt. Before Draco, harry had only one lover and that was Ginny and whatever recollection of phrases he had remained with of with Draco became faceless and it only sounded for Harry to feel like they're all from Ginny.

"i- perhaps " Draco replied briskly before he picked up the cotton again with shaking hands and did his wounds in a blurry vision, remaining silent.

" wait- how did- why did you say love felt like rain, isn't it what- I mean i-"

" I read it somewhere " Draco vaguely replied.

" oh " harry mouthed before he wore his shirt again and watched Draco hurriedly leave the room with slumped shoulders.

_____________________________

" pa, pa pa pa para ra rara ra " Draco hummed as he knocked down doors after door's, collapsing in his office chair, raising his legs over his table, watching a frame of Draco and harry resting over it. He smiled at it before he chugged down another gulp of whiskey burning his throat.

" sir- mr. Malfoy ?" Someone said as they flicked the light on watching Draco with narrowed eyes

" oh- Macy- oh love, you know I shouldn't call you love. Well but again, you did absolutely nothing. But you know you ruined my entire life "Draco's pale eyes glimmered in tears and he chugged down another gulp.

" si- sir.. I'm-"

" do me a favor and please, leave me alone " Draco sobbed. Macy looked at Draco in pity before she turned off the lights and walked away..

Draco remained there staring at the ceiling for a long time, river of tears flowing down his cheeks, wetting his neck and his shirt, sip after sip, he emptied the bottle, crying in the agony of pain that became friendlier minute by minute.

" liar" Draco mumbled to himself, then loudly " fucking pathetic liar" only he wished he could've yelled..

" you loved me, you said you'd never forget me, you said you could never live without me, there you are fucking breathing, living, surviving, taking my breath away, leaving me to die " draco mumbled to himself staring at harry in the picture. And he cried a little more too.

Draco smeared his face with tears, rubbing his hands over his face, releasing a shaky breath before he rested his forehead against the table and left heavy sobs, a weird pain settling into his chest that pulled him in deeper, something that left him empty, Hollow but yearning. Left him heart broken..

It was seconds later, or minutes or an hour later, he had lost the count before he got up and stumbled to Harry's room and as sobriety started settling into him, He watched harry from the door, gazing softly at the sleeping figure,he didn't want to wake him up.

" he'll be fine " Someone said besides him. Draco turned his head to see a patronus hanging in the air, it was maybe a stag, he didn't know, he didn't remember.

" what if he never remembers me ?" Draco asked as it the patronus would answer.

" trust me it'd be fine " it spoke again.

Draco watched the patronus bouncing with light blue light " you don't know that. I've only a day left with him, he'll leave from here and he wouldn't remember a single thing " Draco muffled in tears.

" it'd be fine, Draco, it will be "

Groaning, Draco threw his hand over the patronus, Making it evaporate in the air, faint words still whispering" it'd be fine" until the hallway grew dark again and Draco remained there watching harry from the door.

" what if you never come back to me ?"

And with the dying hope, Draco walked back home.

Only if he had known thing's would've changed the next night. The last night.

Draco has paraded the his healers office next morning, scenting of Harry's Cologne, wearing Harry's shirt and his pendant, he never understood why he did it, but he wore it, perhaps in the last rememberance. But no matter what he did, he couldn't bring himself to meet harry that very day. Every opportunity he got, a string tugged him back as if he wasn't ready to say goodbye and it was until the end of the day, he had to finally face Harry.

" you didn't come all day ?" Harry eyes had perhaps glimmered as Draco had entered but Draco purposely ignored it, he couldn't bring himself to hope, not anymore.

" I- I had things " Draco mumbled, wearing his gloves before he checked Harry's pulse, then looked over his scars.

" y- are you mad ?" Harry had asked several minutes later after Draco has remained suspiciously silent.

" why would I be ?"

" you haven't spoken a word " harry pointed.

" it's a strategy you see, it's easier to say goodbye now " Draco mumbled heavily as he pushed away his thrumming feelings.

"y- you'll never meet me after this ?" Harry asked innocently..

Draco bit his lips as he blinked his tears away, offering harry a little smile "I'll try "

Harry spoke again after several minutes, lifting the silence " can I ask you to do something ?"

" anything " Draco whispered.

" can you just like say something so I can remember you by it? I mean we might meet, but we might not right. So I- I just want to retain a memory, just of you "

Draco could've sworn his heart leapt several feets, throbbed Loudly and unshed tears appeared " why- why do you want to ?"

" I- I don't know. I just- I don't want to forget you " harry shrugged.

Draco inhaled before he faced harry, forming a little smile once again before he said " perhaps loving you will always remain a memory, but loving you had felt like stars colliding, sun shining and daisies blooming. Loving you was homely. Now loving you will be will only be a memory "

" who said that ?"

" me " Draco smiled and he went into writing Harry's last report before he'd be ready to go..

" that- nevermind" but Harry remembered looking at Draco's chest, watching carefully the necklace that hung around his neck..

Draco didn't see him again for the rest of the day, busying himself because then maybe, letting go would be easy, saying goodbye wouldn't hurt so much anymore as he knew it did. Maybe it'll become easier.

That night before leaving, Draco stood against Harry's door, watching him sleep one last time.

" we both know I should walk away, but I can't "

And yet, yet he walked away. And still remained.

The fire remained nothing more than a shimmering spark of red and orange and Draco saw it dying out on his couch, his knees pressed against his chest. He watched it slowly die, he watched it die.

But love wasn't remembering or their love wasn't ever supposed to be just a memory, their love was in loving, their love was, still.

That very night when Draco had revisited harry and Whispered the soft words embraced in love, the midnight stroke, harry remained awake and maybe that's why it all changed..

Maybe it was the midnight or maybe it was some unsettling feeling that had remained in Harry's chest when draco had spoken about loving and home, or maybe it was Because of the pendant he saw, he knew there was something..

It came in visions, little by little, like a reel forming, moving forward when Harry jerked awake, sitting still when he remembered. He remembered Loving.

Of course, it wasn't in loving, it was in giving another chance, it was in longing, it was in seeing Draco differently that day, it was in that smile that skipped his heart beat that changed everything..

It was in falling again, once again that he remembered. That he remembered Loving was like raining, slow at first, then rapid with middle, then soothing.

Harry jumped up from the bed, running down the hallways, Calling the home number, wishing Draco would pick up but the phone was resting on the side of the telephone, ignored on purpose.

" sir, I need you to calm down-"

" I need Draco. That's what I need. That's who I need.. don't you see I remember. I remember everything" harry manically yelled.

" yo- you remember ?"

" yes I remember. See I know. You're macy, you work under Draco, the first day you joined you spilled coffee all over Draco's shirt and somehow in trying to help him clean up, you changed his shirts colour to pink. Remember ?" Harry yelled

Macy looked in shock, words dying in her throat.

" I remember everything. I- I need to see Draco" harry ordered.

" but- he requested- he left "

" left ?where ?" Harry asked impatiently.

" he didn't say. He said he's going and didn't mention when he'll come back "

" that ass " Harry mumbled.

" do you have any idea where he might go ?" Harry shook macy violently.

" I- n-no I don't " she stammered. Harry tugged his hair as he started brainstorming, thinking about all the places he could be. All of them but nothing-

"of course, the cottage house " harry jumped up, adrenaline pumping inside every nerve of him.

" but- I - can't let you go " macy said

" oh watch me" and without even thinking Harry disapparted.

________________________________

Draco watched as the rain poured down, wetting the window. The fire had died down, maybe not even remaining sparks, and the room grew colder and darker with the absence of warmth and light. But he sat there, knees pressed against his chest, head resting on the wall behind him as his eyes begged for tears to stop, his fingers playing with the necklace lying on his chest.

And just as the thunder broke again, he saw the figure appearing in the living room. It should've scared him but Draco felt insane, hallucinated perhaps.

" Draco " it spoke..

Draco didn't reply, not wanting to feel stupid talking in hallucinations.

" it's me Draco. I'm here " he whispered.

" as if " Draco mumbled.

" I really am " he Whispered. Draco narrowed his eyes at the figure and stepped down the windowsill to face him.

" liar. I know you're not " Draco said as he approached him.

" I really am " he whispered as he too stepped closer.

Draco was an inch apart when he touched him, waiting for his hands to go through, only it didn't and Shock formulated like a slow chemical reaction and he gasped when he realised..

" you -"

" I am very much real " he chuckled holding Draco's sides.

" but you- you forgot "

" I remember, I remember everything Draco"

" no, you- you had amnesia. You're playing with me " Draco harshly Whispered..

He huffed " you think coasters make good wall posters and that they make good show pieces, that's why most of our coaster are on the wall instead of under the cups "

Draco stilled " yo- you-"

" I remember, love, I remember " and without thinking twice, Draco hugged harry breaking into heavy sobs. Mumbling incoherent words.

" I'm so sorry. I'm never forgetting you ever again. I'm so so sorry " harry Whispered as he hugged Draco tighter.

" i- I love you " Draco mumbled in sobs.

" I love you too. Fuck, I missed you "

The wind blew through the door, just as they broke the hug, the cold air stirring inside going through the fireplace, and they kissed, the fire grew again, lighting the darkness Again, the warmth invading again and Love settling in once again.

My greatest Apologies for delaying it longer than I ever should have. Ofc I'm back to writing, so further requests are soon to be delivered. Bear with me. Also thanks to @drarrywords

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

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duodipersponsh · 3 years

Text

Okay, I am not a professional (i've just been doing a hell lot of reading&watching) but PLEASE STOP STYGMATIZING DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER IN YOUR FANFICTION

I know writing about Winter Soldier who hunts and kills everything that moves and has nothing to do with an actual sentient human being is fun and cool (actually, no!) but

Dissociative Identity Disorder doesn't have to be about

- there's one dude who possesses me from time to time

- I have no recollection of what he does

- I have no idea who he is

- he is antisocial, cruel and dangerous

Now, what DID representation can actually be about? Well, thank you for asking, there are so many things to explore and so much variety!

First of all, look up the terminology and use it in your texts (not all of these will be relevant for every system): emotional protectors, persecutors, gatekeepers, child alters, sexual alters, non-human alters, host/hosts, body; inner world, fronting, co-fronting, co-conscious, switching, positive and negative triggers; dissociation, derealisation; integration, fusion, splitting; system communication; why the name of the disorder was changed (please stop saying multiple identities)

(You already know all of these? Try figments, introjects, fictives, dormant alters; OSDD and its types; age-sliding, inner-system relationships, dysphoria in fronting alters; uncovering hidden memories; dating a system. Too easy still? Try looking up disability in alters because apparently this happens a lot and we still don't know much about it.)

Not all of these things will be relevant to every system, but PLEASE start your research there. And no, splitting has nothing to do with that horrible movie😭

Basic stuff!

DID is a generally COVERT disorder caused by TRAUMA that happened while THE BODY WAS YOUNGER THAN NINE. No, you are not likely to get DID from a mission you went on with your buddy Steve Rogers if you were an adult already. Yes, it usually takes years to figure out you have DID. Yes, you will most probably need lots of therapy to learn to coexist with all of your alters, your amnesia (if you have any) and other things

Inner world/headspace!

It can be anything from a room to a city or even sth bigger than that. It can have its own laws of space&time. It can have "non-playable characters", i.e. non-alters. It can be visible to all alters, it can be hidden from the host (until they learn about their alters or forever), it can be very detailed or extremely vague

Alters!

There can be more than one! They can be of any age, race, gender etc! They can be animals, fairies, any sort of demons, spirits (do you see some great opportunities for your fics? Well I do!)

In most cases, the host will not know about their alters for years, and NEITHER WILL PEOPLE AROUND THEM. Yes, alters can have different personalities, they can protect other alters, they can punish them, they can be quiet or hyperactive, they can be a prescooler or have phd in something, they can have various accents, they may be non-verbal, they may have very special mannerisms but most of the time they will pretend to be the host

Then, one day your character may put all of the information they have together: memory loss, varying handwritings, maybe voices in their head or characters who come to them in their sleep, maybe they'll be helped by their friends or a professional. And maybe you could begin your plot here! Maybe they'll write in their diary something like "Hi, this is my name and I know you are out there. Please write back. You don't have to hide anymore. We are safe now." Maybe they'll receive an answer! Maybe someone will connect with them the next time they dissociate, maybe they'll be let straight into the inner world. Let's go, let's explore it together!

DID gives you an amazing opportunity to let the reader explore your world with the host, if they are yet to discover their DID or have only learned about it recently. Moreover, DID tends to give a system lots of surprises: dormant alters or ones that are entirely new (they don't have to be born because of new traumatic events!), memories no one even knew about, splitting and fusing.

However, you know what we totally lack in (fan)fiction?

DID systems that are functioning well!

Happy systems! Collaborating alters! Hurt&comfort! Fluffy fics! Inner communication! There is literally SO much you can do. Some systems aim for fusing all of their alters; others want to gain all of their memories back first; for some, getting to know all of their alters is still number one priority; some just want to coexist without fusing.

I know it's funny to write about a gloomy antisocial Winter who has a crush on Tony but cannot express himself. But please, we need more than that.

Please.

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wavedream · 3 years

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"why are you even doing this", an Explanation TM

Here on this sideblog you will find a project I have been threatening to do on various social media platforms since 2019. Absolutely nobody asked for this, but you're getting it anyway!

As to what said project actually is, this is going to be an issue-by-issue reread of and retrospective on the 2002-2004 Transformers G1 comic series published by now-defunct publisher Dreamwave Productions. There's two main motivations behind this project: the first is simply that it's been over a decade now since I so much as glanced at any of these comics, and when I did initially take a look way back in 2009 and 2010, I didn't pay much attention to them at all. I'm extremely curious as to how they read in 2021, and that's simple enough.

For a more detailed explanation as to why I thought this very excessive project was inexplicably a good idea, as well as some details on how I'm going about it, check below the read more.

The second reason I wanted to do this is that since I got into Transformers all those years ago, the recognizability of Dreamwave as a part of Transformers fandom history has really decreased. When I got into the franchise it was around five years since Dreamwave had gone under as a comics publisher. I learned about it as a bit of very recent fandom drama pretty much immediately. Dreamwave's extremely ignoble end was a matter of absolute infamy in the fandom, and brought up pretty regularly. People made a lot of Pat Lee jokes and expected you to know what they meant without explanation.

Since the mid-2010s, however, I've noticed that's changed a lot; partly because it's much older news now than it used to be, of course, but also because the combined success of IDW, Bayverse, Transformers Animated and Transformers: Prime at bringing in completely new fans since then means a lot of people around these days just never heard those years-long injokes about That One Trashfire TM, and since these comics can't be re-printed these days, that means there's not really a lot of awareness of them. And since there are some places where Dreamwave has wound up being surprisingly influential, I think it's worth at least one re-visit.

There are a couple of things to answer before I get started on the actual project, so here's a quick list of them:

+ No, I'm not doing the Armada tie in comics that Dreamwave also did alongside their original take on G1. This is mostly just because I haven't done an Armada rewatch in a decade either and would need to do that first, I think. I actually own some of those though, like physical copies, so maybe one day. But for this, we're just doing their G1 comics, starting with the miniseries and then going into the short-lived ongoing.

+ I don't remember the actual content of these comics very well at all. I didn't much care about them when I first took a look back in the day. I just have vague recollections of the odd plot point and a general sense they were at times quite... strange. We can all (re)discover this together.

+ I am not going to give a schedule for this blog. I will post whenever I feel like it. Promising otherwise would end in hubris and disaster.

+ This blog is being run by me, @decepti-thots! If somehow you found this blog and not that one rather than the other way around... uhhh, now you know, I guess!

With that out of the way:

Before we get into the actual retrospectives, I'm going to write up a brief overview of pertinent stuff about Dreamwave as a publisher and their history with Transformers comics. It's not going to be a comprehensive overview, for the simple reason that there are already places you can go for that, and there's no point in me doing that instead of just linking you to TF Wiki's page on the topic. But we'll take a look at the basic context of where TF was at when these comics launched and what Dreamwave actually was before we get into the comic itself.

So keep an eye out for that! <3

#maccadam #dreamwave #intro post

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deadinside-butstill-horny · 4 years

Text

The Night We Met

Part One - The Night We Met

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Murphy's sister travels to Colombia after realising Steve might not quite be A-Okay and meets the Javier Peña.

Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you'd like to see anything in particular. If it's in my wheelhouse, you'll definitely see it.

Pedro in the black shirt in this scene is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin' airline ticket. You had attempted to grab life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentarial bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into a full scale panic attack if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self.

After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn't have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn't there to kill him.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother's address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.

The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.

Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.

Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.

After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.

Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.

“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands,you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.

By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought.

So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.

“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response.

“Uh… no hablo... español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi...Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda... does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it's a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with.

“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you.

Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man... Good to know.

...

As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one.

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink.

“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now... You’ve got a guest.... No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother's partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another's company.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving. He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner's sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with false surprise, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it's a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out.

You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone.

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman's tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman's words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son... I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.”

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man's elbow and you’re a blushing mess.

Get a grip Y/N.

The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia... Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it's probably ‘cause he’s busy... He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.”

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention, you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning."

You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier. He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit.

When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.

Javier's hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother's partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve...

“... This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance.

He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own.

You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love. This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throught your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.

It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man's hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own. Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.

Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you’d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it.

“...Is Steve okay?”

“...No... He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve's voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “...what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it's not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.

Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.

You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

Part Two

#javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #pedro pascal x reader #I LOVE THE BLACK FUCKING SHIRT #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #murphy!reader

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scoups4lyfe · 2 years

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Hebi Anon

Donbrothers is a show that, by some unfortunate coincidence, seems determined to dig up and expose everything I find traumatic and try to reframe them as jokes.

I was traumatized for good reasons, I do not appreciate them being used for cheap laughs

So, I did see your TW ask Hebi-san. I haven't done anything with it yet because its real personal and I didn't know if you wanted me to post that. But I will at least say that I've read it.

First things first, your thoughts/feelings/opinions are 10 billion percent valid.

Remember to take care of yourself FIRST, my friend.

I know what it's like to get triggered by something in tv shows. Episode 10 was a good example of that. The idea of being replaced and forgotten fills me with unholy fury and rage 🤪.

Another good example would be the first time I watched episode 15 of Revice (not so much anymore lol, cuz I know it was written that way for a reason and thematically I appreciate that). So funny tho cuz other liveblogs were like "True sibling behavior <33" while I was like: "Ikki and Sakura. You two are DEAD to me." (lmao)

So I 10 billion % get where you're coming from.

Thank you for choosing to share something so personal with me. I always appreciate your input.

And yeah,

I understand exactly what you're saying about asking a lot of questions that seem incredibly obvious to some people.

In school there were times I hated certain essay questions or multiple choice questions because it was too ambiguous / abstract for me and I had the constant fear of "this is too vague? What if I answer it wrong?!?"

I feel like the only time I really get stressed/anxious is usually when I have to ask a lot of questions for things I have no understanding for. Mostly because I'll probably ask the same question like 6 times just to make sure. And like you said, others kind of peg you as incompetent when you're like that.

It's rather unnecessary for me to put here, but since you shared something personal, I might as well reciprocate, if only just a bit.

I know why you hardcore empathize with Haruka/Haiku. Absolutely understandable.

For me, it's not that I solely empathize with Tarou -- am I a Tarou apologist? Lol absolutely. But I don't only see just his side.

Often I actually had "?????" times as well about a majority of his actions LOL! But I could tell he was written like that for a reason. Esp with how he's hella coded as being on the spectrum. So I knew that I needed to do a lot of research on topics I knew jack-all about so I could parse out theories/deductions.

(Which is what I've been doing lol)

I think for me, I fall right on that line of being not emotional at all, and also being overflowing with emotions always. Strong emotions tend to fizzle out quickly, like it's impossible for me to hold grudges -- I know, I've tried 🤪.

But because of this I don't get too overly attached to characters. / Situations, because my mind places that in "short term" and I forget about it by the time I wake up . (Unless, of course, it's a re-occurring thing, because then I'm not able to put it on the periphery.)

This gives me a detached way of recollecting/examining things, as the emotions don't come up with the memory I'm recollecting (usually).

So when it comes to Donbrothers, I view most of the situations neutrally. Obv I have my favoritism and what not, but that's because I looked at both sides and chose the one I felt for the best.

I said it once, twice, and I'll say it thrice, but I saw Momoi's attempt at complimenting them > over Haiku's nonsense 🤪.

And this is because out of all the people present, I felt Momoi was the one who took the biggest L in that entire interaction.

It's like I could see behind his eyes, and feel the fear and pain of dying, as well as the anxiety, confusion, etc. over the other team members essentially going "you failed to do this. So fvck you then <3. Have fun fighting alone."

AND THEN, also holding into account the fact that he's been abandoned all his life. And now his teammates are abandoning him over something he has no control over (i. e lying) / something he failed to do (compliment them).

And my heart bled for him and this injustice. ESP seeing how affected (emotionally) he is about it on the rooftop with Sonoi.

I get where the others are coming from. But to me, Momoi was the one hurting the most in the situation, and so I sided with him <3.

Now, on the topic of taking sides.

Just like how you're influenced by your experiences, I believe I'm just built to (mostly) look at both sides of the equation.

I grew up in a very small household (imagine 3 rooms, 1 bathroom and 12 people living there); and my household was/is also filled with mentally ill people.

I say this because, such small space meant A LOT of fights. But you had to 'forgive and forget' quickly cuz if not you'd be miserable for days when the ppl that screwed you over are just fine and dandy. So it's easier for me to forgive and forget than probably a lot of people.

Growing up, I also wasn't able to see myself in/mirror myself from either of my parents. So instead I mirrored myself/found comfort through tv shows. Because I didn't see myself in either of my parents, this also led me through a lot of self-reflection cuz I assumed there had to be something wrong with me (lol).

(Though this was all subconscious. The self-reflection led me to a lot of self-analysis and gave me the analytical lens I have today of viewing things from a more detached perspective)

And for me, instead of asking questions (I do sometimes, and I always have the running commentary in my head anyways) I learned to not ask questions ever.

For example, I stopped asking my mom to help me with my homework because my questions always led to a beating and my mom accusing me of making her do all the work. (RIP <3) And to this day I'd rather die than ask for help LOL.

I also never got diagnosed until literally last year. (Prior to that I didn't realize I had anything like ADHD or Bi-polar), so I was def riding the "I could do so well if I only tried harder and wasn't so lazy <3" train for basically all my life.

I can't say I've ever been bullied (by anyone outside my immediate family <3), and I always had at least 1 friend in all the schools I went to (even if I don't at all remember how I befriended them LOL).

But my traumas being directly related to my family has made it so I can't really hate or despise them. Because, they're my family you know? And they really do try their best.

The worst part is, where I'm at now I can see exactly where they're coming from. Which makes it virtually impossible to hate them for anything because it's like I can see behind their eyes and know their thoughts and feelings and worries, and idk.

I'd say my family is very dysfunctional. I could tell you a normal day in my family's household that would blow the hair right off your head.

The only way I can describe it, is (for us siblings) literally you could mirror us with the Umbrella Academy sibs.

(My older sis is Luther to a T, my younger sis is Five, my younger brother Ben, and everyone in my family unanimously agreed I'd be Klaus LOL)

Another example to what my life growing up was like,,, I'd compare it to being eerily similar to Shameless (U.S vers)'s Gallagher family.

If you. haven't seen any of those shows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

There are youtube compilations LOL.

TLDR;

You didn't deserve the BS you got from those losers at ur school, I get much better now why you don't like Momoi, and I absolutely respect your opinion. Once again, thanks for sharing your experiences. If you want me to post that ask, I will. But only with your permission. Like you, I'm also influenced by my experiences/personality and because of so I'll more than likely continue my Momoi Tarou apologism.

#If you are still gucci with sending in your questions or complaints #then I'll continue to do my best to analyze and share my interpretation as well #But again. Homie pls put urself first #If you can't send in any more asks because it triggers u and tires u out I respect it #my thougts #avataro sentai donbrothers #donbrothers #donbrothers liveblog #who let delivery boy bring a parade float to a gun fight #13 peach falls #before harvesting season #hebi anon 🫡💋#asks #sentaisouped #momoi tarou #4lyfe

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riversofmars · 3 years

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I know you must have done wedding prompts before but perhaps one where the Doctor is trying to find something to wear but keeps coming up with all the stupid suits or other oddball clothes River dislikes and refuses River's suggestions of anything decent?

Hello all! Just back from holiday in the middle of nowhere and brought loads of fanfic content back! To start us off, a silly prompt filler! I've had a lot of fun prompts that all felt a bit too short for one thing so I've mixed a whole lot of them together for a chaotic and utterly typical day in the life of River and the Doctor! Hope you like it!

Word count: ~3k

Rating: G

Read below or on AO3

A Day in the Life

“You’re up early,“ River commented, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen in the TARDIS. She had woken up alone which wasn’t an unusual occurrence, the Doctor didn’t sleep much. She was, however, surprised to find her busying herself in the kitchen, rather than tinkering around the TARDIS.

“Big day today!“ The Doctor announced with a grin and turned around, she was waving a spatula about, and batter had somehow found its way into her hair and onto her entire outfit. River couldn’t help but chuckle, her hearts warming at the adorable sight in front of her. She pushed herself off the doorframe and made her way over to her wife.

“Doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be. We have a time machine, after all,“ she pointed out, recalling the conversation they had had last night. They had been invited to a wedding, which sounded a lot more recent than it was. The wedding had of course taken place thousands of years ago and they had encountered the happy couple many times since, but that wasn’t to say they wouldn’t be at their wedding at some point. The Doctor seemed to have decided that the time had come.

“No, no, I think it would be a nice thing to do today,“ the Doctor nodded enthusiastically and turned back to the stove to flip what looked like a pancake.

“Feeling sentimental?“ River asked, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Maybe…“ The Doctor gave a little shrug and proceeded to curse most colourfully when the pancake split as she flipped it, and batter splashed everywhere as it crashed down.

“Is this something to do with that new face of yours?“ River hummed, nuzzling into her neck placing a soft kiss there.

“Something to do with you not being stuck in the library anymore,“ the Doctor answered more sincerely than River would have anticipated.

“Fair point,“ she had to agree. Life had been very different for them since the Doctor had freed her from the Library. For the first time - with the exception of their years on Darillium - they were living together in linear time. No running, no spoilers, just time, little time together, and they both appreciated it more than they could ever find the words to say.

“Sit down, breakfast is almost ready,“ the Doctor smiled and turned her head for a brief kiss.

“What are you making?“ River asked, eyeing the mess on the stove.

“Pancakes,“ the Doctor answered, bewildered, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“You sure about that?“ River frowned. Not only the consistency was suspect, the colour as well, upon closer observation.

“Oi, of course I’m sure!“ The Doctor exclaimed. “Special recipe. It’s from one of those colony worlds, over the far side of the Andromeda Galaxy. See, they don’t have chickens there so the eggs they use are…“

“Right,“ River nodded and decided that was all she needed to know to skip breakfast.

“And they don’t have maple syrup either but there is this really nice substitute they got…“ The Doctor went on and reached for a fork. She scooped up a presumably baked sample of the pancake and dipped it into some odd-looking white liquid in a bowl. She held it out to River expectantly.

“I’m gonna have to take your word for it,“ River hummed and let go of her to put some distance between herself and the offending pancake.

“Try it!“ The Doctor insisted, evidently hurt at her rejection. “It’s lush!“ She took the bite herself, sampling her own cooking, and was careful not to let her expression give any indication on the quality of the food.

“No, I’m good, watching my figure, with the dress and everything,“ River waved it off with a polite smile.

“You’re silly. You look absolutely beautiful,“ the Doctor seemed put out that she would even think that. She grabbed her hand to hold her back while scooping up another bite for her.

“And I really don’t want to try that,“ River grimaced, and with a sigh the Doctor ate the second bite too.

“I've been slaving in this kitchen for hours!“

“And I am ever so grateful.“ River pecked her cheek trying her best to avoid the sticky syrup all over her lips.

“Not even a proper kiss?“ The Doctor pouted.

“Not like that!“ River pointed out the sticky liquid and quickly pulled away before she had to sample the cooking second hand.

“Oi!“ The Doctor called, disappointed.

“Let’s go and pick out our outfits then!“ River grinned, skipping back to their bedroom.

——

“No… no…“ River shook her head vehemently.

“What do you mean, no? This is brilliant,“ the Doctor insisted, taking a twirl in a rainbow-coloured suit.

“No, it’s not, I’m not having it,“ River put her foot down. This was the fourth outfit the Doctor had tried and things were only getting worse.

“But…!“ The Doctor looked down at herself, disappointed. She thought this time she had picked a winner. The main problem was that she just didn’t really see the difference or what River’s issue was, else she would have been able to make a better choice. She was left guessing.

“No! Get something else!“ River sighed, getting frustrated.

“How about this?!“ The Doctor picked up another suit from the rack and River groaned:

“It literally is the same suit but in a different colour!“

“Brings out my eyes though, doesn’t it!“ The Doctor tried to reason but River wasn’t having it:

“No!“ She exclaimed and marched over to the rack herself. “Here, let me have a look…“ She started pushing through the coat hangers. “How about this?“ She pulled out a dress for a change and held it out to her, it was sky blue and silky.

“No.“ The Doctor shook her head immediately.

“Or this?“ River chose a red dress next that she remembered wearing herself for some occasion or another.

“I’m not going to wear one of your dresses!“ The Doctor huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“They’re not all my dresses… I’m sure this one is my mum’s,“ River mused, looking at a green one that she only had vague recollections of.

“No!“ The Doctor retorted decisively.

“Then I think we have reached an impasse…“ River sighed, putting all the dresses back. “I think we need to go shopping,“ she announced.

“River…“ The Doctor rubbed her face, she didn’t like the idea of it at all. .

“Unless you settle on one of my suggestions?“ River suggested sweetly and the Doctor shook her head.

“No.“

“Then, we’re going shopping,“ River decided, not taking no for an answer.

“What if I don’t dress up?“ The Doctor suggested in a last ditch attempt.

“Or you could wear nothing at all…“ River suggested with a sly smirk, and the Doctor blushed. “But no-one but me would appreciate that, so we’re going shopping.“

“Fine…“ The Doctor huffed.

——

“Right, back to the TARDIS,“ River announced triumphantly.

“I can’t believe you've dragged me around the shops…“ The Doctor was carrying several bags and did her best to avoid bumping into people. It was incredibly busy. They had come to the biggest shopping centre in the universe, the shopping planet aptly called “Capitalism“, which was rather on the nose but at least the people knew what this place was all about.

“Only until we found something we both liked well enough. Marriage is all about compromise, Sweetie,“ River chuckled, pleased that they had finally put the pesty issue to bed. Now it was just a matter of getting back to the TARDIS, changing into their new outfits and enjoying a very special day with some of their closest friends.

“Look over there…“ The Doctor halted as she spotted a little girl, no older than five, wandering around by herself.

“She looks lost…“ River had to agree and stopped walking as well. The girl was looking around, clearly searching for something or someone. It was far too busy for a child that age to be left to her own devices.

“Hello, are you okay? Who are you here with?“ The Doctor decided they couldn’t just carry on, instead she walked over to talk to the child, her wife close behind.

“I’m looking for my parents.“ The little girl answered reluctantly, eyeing the two of them as if she wasn’t sure whether she could trust them.

“Where did you last see them? Maybe we can help, you really shouldn’t be here on your own, it’s so busy,“ the Doctor scanned around the crowd but should see anyone that might be looking for a child in turn.

“I lost them in the crowd, we were meant to go to the entertainment level…“ The girl carried on to explain and pointed to a big poster on the other side of the walkway.

“Okay, well, maybe they went there and are waiting there for you now, shall we see if we can find them?“ River suggested, as it was as good a place as any to start.

——

“Entertainment is saying a bit much…“ River huffed as they slowly advanced into the amusement deck. It was surprisingly quiet, considering the fact that it was meant to be a fun place.

“Quite creepy, isn’t it…“ The Doctor agreed, eyeing up mechanical statues that lined the walls. Up ahead was a large entrance to what resembled an amusement park, only it was half-hidden behind the shutters, and there was no way of looking inside properly.

“Maybe we should go and talk to the security staff, make an announcement or something…“ River mused as she didn’t like the look of the place.

“That’s my mum’s scarf!“ The girl exclaimed as she spotted a yellow scarf not far from the entrance. River and the Doctor exchanged knowing looks.

“Maybe they didn’t lose you at all, maybe they were taken…“ The Doctor mused and pulled out her sonic screwdriver, which was quite a struggle with her shopping bags in hand. She gave the scarf and then the entrance a scan.

“Taken?!“ The girl exclaimed, terrified, and River was quick to pick her up and hug her.

“Don’t say things like that!“ She hissed at her wife who mumbled an apology.

“Sorry…“ she patted the child’s arm who had wrapped her arms around River’s neck. “We’re gonna find them in no time.“ The Doctor assured her and scanned the way up ahead again. “See, there’s lifesigns up ahead.“ Slowly, they started making their way inside the park.

The place was abandoned and they walked in silence until suddenly there was movement.

“AH!“ It was River that screamed first, and before the Doctor could do anything, she unloaded her blaster at a mechanical clown.

“River!!“ The Doctor exclaimed, shocked, as the girl screamed as well and buried her face in River’s neck.

“I just… really hate clowns, OKAY?!“ River took a deep breath, advancing carefully towards the thoroughly beat up statue.

“Right, okay, you’ve really shown that one who’s boss…!“ The Doctor commented, relaxing a little when River put her gun away upon finding the clown completely broken.

“Emily!“ A voice called up ahead and River and the Doctor looked up.

“Mum!“ The girl exclaimed and River set her down, smiling, at the woman running towards her.

“It was one way, we couldn’t turn around, we thought you’d gone in!“ The woman scooped up her daughter in a tight hug and the Doctor and River exchanged smiles. “Thank you so much for bringing her here!“ The mother carried on, immense relief in her voice.

“All is well that ends well,“ River smiled and looped her arm around that of her wife.

“We’d better go, before someone makes us pay for the damage on that clown…“ The Doctor chuckled and captured River's lips in a kiss before she could get affronted.

——

“Happy?“ River asked, giving her wife a sideways glance.

“Very happy!“ The Doctor nodded, as she adjusted her waistcoat. She was wearing a tailored grey suit with an emerald green bow tie that matched the dress River wore. It was long and fitted, showing off her curves perfectly without being too revealing.

“Right then, let’s do this.“ River smiled and took her wife’s arm as she offered it to her.

“Nice venue!“ River commented as they stepped outside the TARDIS. They found themselves in a Victorian manor house.

“Looks oddly familiar…“ The Doctor mused with a frown, getting an odd sense of déjà vu.

“You’ve not been here before, have you?“ River asked, recognising the look on her face. She felt they were in for a surprise.

“I think I would remember…“ The Doctor mused, scanning the room some more. That’s when she spotted it: the second TARDIS on the other side of the room. “Oh no!“ She breathed.

“Timelines crossing, that’s why you don’t remember…“ River chuckled and frowned when she spotted the other Doctor. Tall with floppy hair, bowtie, and a girl following close behind. “But who is that?!“

“Okay, all of this was a huge misunderstanding…“ The Doctor reached for her wife’s hand intent on pulling her back to the TARDIS but River was too curious to let this opportunity pass them by. Particularly since the girl who was following the young Doctor was doing her best to cling to his arm.

“Doctor?“ River flashed him a bright smile, pulling her wife along.

“River!“ The younger Doctor recognised her and the colour drained from his face. He was doing his best to shake off the girl on his arm while going bright red in the face. “Oh no, no no no…“

“Who’s this darling?“ The young girl piped up to which River raised her eyebrows.

“This is my…“ The young Doctor cleared his throat as he gestured to his wife, trying to make introductions.

“Darling?“ River echoed with a good-natured smile, already relishing in his discomfort.

“Oh God, I think I remember this…“ The blonde Doctor groaned next to her wife, running her hand through her hair nervously. This was not where they were meant to end up when she had set the TARDIS going.

“And what is this ?“ River asked and the younger Doctor stammered:

“It’s really not what it looks like…“

“I thought we were going to Vastra and Jenny’s wedding, we have been meaning to go for ages!“ River sighed, pursing her lips, raising her questioning eyebrow.

“I must have… overshot a little…“ The blonde Doctor admitted.

“River, I can explain, see there was this thing…“ The other Doctor started.

“There is always a thing…“ River hummed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She was doing her very best to remain serious. It wasn’t exactly the first time she had caught her spouse in an awkward position and she didn’t care in the least, but she greatly enjoyed winding them up.

“Please, let’s leave this horrible place and start our life together…“ The girl piped up again, wrapping her arms around the young Doctor’s waist who struggled to push her off.

“Yeah, about that…“ He stuttered.

“There was this whole forced marriage cult that I was trying to break up and I don’t know what happened, suddenly I was married to this girl and…“ The blonde Doctor decided to add some context at last.

“Ah.“ River smirked.

“It was an accident…“ The younger Doctor interjected immediately.

“We will leave you to deal with this accident then and you can make it up to me next time you see me,“ River announced with great amusement.

“Yes well… but what about you, do I not get to be jealous?“ The younger Doctor suddenly realised, pointing to his future self.

“I am you,“ the Doctor retorted dryly, as if it wasn’t obvious by now.

“Right…“ The other Doctor looked his future self up and down. “Nice suit.“

“She is you? I am married to both of you?“ The girl interjected, drawing everyone’s attention, as a huge smile spread across her face at the prospect. She was taking the whole thing surprisingly well which probably had a lot to do with having regained her freedom after what could be considered a rather hopeless existence.

“You are married to neither one of us. She is. We’re not married, 'cause I was already married,“ the younger Doctor explained, hoping to clear things up once and for all. This was just typical. Try and do one nice thing and get caught out by your wife for it.

“She’s your wife?“ The girl looked to River but not with animosity, more like blatant fascination and probably considering if there was a case to be made for an extended arrangement.

“She’s something.“ The older Doctor hummed and got a gentle slap to the arm for it.

“So… Vastra and Jenny’s wedding? Or are we postponing that again?“ River turned back to her wife in amusement, but only after giving the girl a wink.

“Ohh you’re off to see Vastra and Jenny? Been meaning to do that for ages, can we all go?“ The younger Doctor grinned in excitement and River chuckled:

“I think you got something else to sort out first…“

#Doctor who #fanfiction #prompt #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #eleventh doctor #river song #space wives #yowzah #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #general #fluff #dw fanfiction #femslash

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beatricethecat2 · 3 years

Photo

"This is nice," Myka says, sipping her beer while surveying the bar.

"Consuming alcohol in a public house?" Helena asks.

"Yeah," Myka says, eyes angling down as she picks at her label. "Working with Pete...this wasn't a thing I could do much. Then Steve and I had a drink here, and I remembered what it was like. I used to go on my own in DC just to unwind. Feels like a lifetime ago."

“In many ways it was," Helena says, idly stiring the ice left in her drink. "Could you ever have imagined the company you now keep?"

"I don't think so," Myka says, shifting closer to Helena. "But I like it, a lot. Doing this with you feels...normal. Two people, spending time together, not a care in the world."

"You care for nought?" Helena says, fingers tracing a line from Myka's thumb to her wrist where her hand rests on her thigh.

"Ok, one care," Myka says, eyes flicking up to meet Helena's. "Hey, I know that look. We said we'd stay for the band tonight, not just hole up in our room."

"Is there not another band tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but we said we'd stay for this one." Myka slips her hand from Helena's.

"As you wish," Helena says, settling back on her stool, frustration evident in her tone.

"More drinks, ladies?" the bartender says. "The band's about to start."

"I shall need one," Helena grouses.

"Stop being dramatic," Myka snips.

"Fine," Helena snaps. "Bourbon. Neat. Top shelf, please," she instructs the bartender.

"Comin' right up." The bartender steps away to complete the order.

"Oh, we're getting drunk now, are we?" Myka quips.

"When in Rome..."

"I'd actually like to see that, a drunk H.G. Wells," Myka says, poking Helena in the arm.

Helena flinches. "You may very well if you keep behaving as such."

"Seriously though, when's the last time you drank enough to let your guard down, even a little."

"In the company of others? Not in recent memory. And you?"

"Same."

"Here you go," the bartender interrupts, setting the tumbler on a napkin in front of Helena. "Another beer?" she asks Myka.

"You know what? I'll have the same." Myka waves her bottle at Helena's drink.

"Cavalier, Ms. Bering."

"We'll keep each other in check. We deserve to get super tipsy, at least."

"Color me intrigued."

The band strikes its first cord just as Myka's drink arrives. She tugs Helena's arm, and they relocate to a table near the stage.

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

The Adventures of Bering and Wells ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 4 Title: New Orleans: Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Summary: Myka and Helena follow whim rather than duty, driving south, detouring around Washington DC, avoiding a second emotional rabbit hole so early on. After a wi-fi-free week in a cabin, deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, they feel ready to tackle urban density again. ("The Rockies are better," Myka declares. "We'll go there, too.) Vowing to stay as touristy as possible, the pair head towards history-filled New Orleans. But far too soon their carefree trip hits a snag and they're in need of Warehouse help.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3

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

***BONUS SCENE***

"Exactly how touristy have you been?" Abigail asks.

"Pretty touristy," Myka answers.

"Practically flâneurs," Helena says, grinning as Myka looks up at her with sparkly eyes.

"Well, that narrows it down," Steve mutters, typing into the keyboard. "Let's start with your hotel. Why'd you pick the carriage house?"

"The lack of adjoining suite and the king-sized bed."

"Helena!" Myka smacks Helena on the arm. "Because it's cute and charming."

"So this ghost isn't listed on their website? Wedding dress woman, Civil War soldier, dancing patio woman?" Steve asks.

"No. And the manager hadn't recognized the description I gave," Helena explains.

"So not all ghosts," Abigail says.

"If seeing them is normal," Myka says.

"Let's say the ones on their website are but H.G.'s isn't," Steve says.

"Are we to assume I've been 'whammied' then?" Helena says.

"You freeze in place. I have to shake you out of it," Myka explains.

"Perhaps I'm studying the phenomenon."

"You're never that still. It's creepy."

"Then I think we should consider it," Abigail says.

"Where else have you been?" Steve asks.

"Um, everywhere?" Myka answers. "That blacksmith's bar you and I went to. And The Gas and Lights Museum--"

"Such memories. So many details wrong," Helena gibes.

"On a carriage ride--"

"Highway robbery! Sixty-five dollars for a turn around the park. And not in the least authentic."

"You said it was nice!"

"I said it was familiar. The sound of it took me back," Helena says.

"I thought you'd like it." Myka leans back and looks up at Helena questioningly.

"I enjoyed the company quite thoroughly," Helena says, laying her hands on Myka's shoulders and grinning down at her fondly.

"Aww," Steve coos.

"Did anything about the carriage ride scream 'lady ghost will now appear at will?" Abigail asks.

"Not to my knowledge," Helena says.

"We also went to the Pharmacy Museum. And on a steamboat ride," Myka adds.

"Not that I'd have stepped foot on that death trap without proof of modern safety precautions. In my day, they exploded frequently," Helena explains.

"Ok...let's start with the Pharmacy Museum," Abigail says as Steve types. "Could this woman have afforded a doctor?"

"She often appears in her Sunday best, but also in, shall we say...less. She didn't strike me as particularly monied."

"Did she look sort of vampire-ish?" Steve asks. "I'm reading that people with consumption were rumored to be vampires due to how the disease aged them."

"I'm familiar with that premise, and no, this woman was not withering away."

"Could she have died on a steamboat?" Abigail asks.

"She doesn't give off that sense. There's a calm about her. She's not in danger."

"Let's try another angle. The neighborhood you're staying in, Storyville, claims to be the birthplace of jazz," Abigail says, reading over Steve's shoulder. "Maybe she's related to that?"

"Myka took me to hear this 'jazz,' and I can't say I was at all impressed."

"I like it. Steve does, too. You really hated it?" Myka asks.

"The bleat of the saxophone evokes vaudeville for me."

"Play her some Charlie Parker. Or John Coltrane. That might change her mind," Steve suggests.

"Does this relate to our ghost?" Abigail presses.

"I don't see a connection," Helena answers. "Her dress is previous to that of jazz, of an age closer to my own."

"Storyville was once a legal bordello district," Steve explains. "The whole neighborhood was shut down in 1917. So maybe she's from then?"

"That makes sense," Myka says.

"Do you see her inside or outside?" Abigail asks.

"Thus far, outside."

"But," Myka protests, "last night, when we were...t-the blindfold, you said 'just in case.'"

"Did that not heighten our activities?"

"That's not the point. I can't believe you--"

"Punish me later, darling--"

"Why don't you two hash this out, and we'll get back to you," Abigail suggests.

"Wait, is this her?" Steve asks.

Steve shares a black and white photo of a woman, seated outdoors, in front of a makeshift white backdrop, her hair styled into a modest, shoulder-length coif. Her linen top, trimmed with lace, hangs off one shoulder, and a string of pearls adorns her neck. Her lipstick, rendered as a middle grey, matches the kohl lining her eyes, giving her a soft, silent movie-era look.

"Hm, possibly."

"Here's another."

Helena leans further over Myka's shoulder, looking closely at the image. "Yes, I believe that is her."

"That's, um, really off the shoulder. Shoulders..." Myka says. "Isn't that kind of racy for the time?"

"Quite tame compared to some. Her expression is unusual, contemplative almost, recalling solemn greek statues rather than the usual fodder meant to titillate men's desires."

"How would you know?"

"One encounters all sorts of materials as a Warehouse agent," Helena says with a smirk.

"As an agent. Uh-huh."

"Listen to this," Steve interrupts, "these prints were made from a stash of glass negatives found locked in a desk drawer years after the photographer died. Many are of Adele, the woman you're seeing, but there are other women, too. They were shot in the 1910s, but these prints were made in the '60s. If there were any original prints, they were never found."

"May I see the images again?"

Steve cycles through and adds a few more, one depicting a roll-down desk with a shrine of photos arranged above, all of women, vignetted portraits and romantic depictions of the female form more typical for the time.

"Not sure if that last one is related. But it says it's by the same photographer."

"Could you send that one over? I'd like to look more closely."

"Sure."

Myka trades places with Helena, and Helena clicks the link. She enlarges the photo and inspects the array of images.

"I vaguely recall flicking through a basket in a shop with ephemera such as this. Perhaps this ghost woman was amongst it, but printed in a manner such as the images depicted here."

"So you're saying the photo in the shop might be a photo from this photo?"

"That is what I'm hypothesizing."

"So when you see her, you freeze like you're her photograph trapped in this photograph."

"Or perhaps I am her, caught in the decisive moment of the image being captured."

"That's really meta," Steve says.

"No matter what, neutralizing that photo should do the trick," Abigail suggests. "Heck, neutralize everything in the basket, just in case."

"Do you remember which shop you were in?" Steve asks.

"My recollection is hazy at best due to the copious amount of drink someone encouraged me to consume the evening previously."

Helena looks at Myka and scowls. Myka looks back, endearingly.

"I don't get hangovers."

"Lucky you," Helena quips.

"I hope you find it soon," Steve says, "because being happy looks good on both of you. You should get back to that."

"Thank you, Steve. And thank you, Abigail, for all your help," Helena says.

"Anytime," Abigail says.

"Have a great trip. Send some postcards!" Steve says.

"What a marvelous idea," Helena replies.

"Isn't flicking through postcards how we got here?" Myka warns.

"Shall you pre-screen everything I touch from now on?"

"Maybe I should--"

"We're hanging up now," Abigail says.

The screen goes blank as Myka and Helena devlove further into playful bickering.

*End Scene*

-TBC-

NOTES: "Laissez les bon temps rouler!" is Cajun French for "Let the good times roll." In season four, Steve and Myka go New Orleans and both say they like jazz, so I'm not making that up. I see Myka as more of fan of popular tunes - Billy Holiday, Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, etc., whereas Steve would know the genre through and through (and try as he might, never gets Claudia quite on board with it all). The photographer is E. J. Bellocq - I was going to incorporate that more, but the politics behind photos I mentioned is...complicated. I want this B&W show to focus on our ladies journey, artifacts are side-plot motivations. But if you're interested, look him up, and I suggest reading both Susan Sontag and Nan Goldin's essays for some clarity on why the images hold the status they do. From the research I've done, his images are plastered all over Storyville businesses, so if you've been there, you've seen at least one. Oh and I had a roommate once who could drink anything and never got a hangover. Some people are lucky like that.

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fanfiction #fan art #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #new orleans #road trip!#canon divergent au #it's nice using the characters you like and wish had more screen time in spin off shows #while others need not appear

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