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thetriumphantpanda · 1 day

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close to you | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Nine

Chapter Summary | A week of not hearing from Javi since he ran out has you tearing your hair out, so you throw yourself into your work as a distraction, with catastrophic consequences.

Chapter Warnings | mentions of drugs and the drug trade, alcohol consumption, threatening language, violence, blood, descriptions of a head injury and concussion, Javier Peña to the rescue, soft!Javi.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | I am forever appreciative of how patient you guys are for updates of this series! Thank you for hanging in there whilst my muse and creativity ebbs and flows, I love you all! We're getting towards the conclusion of this little story, with only a few chapters left so I hope you guys are still enjoying this! If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

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You wonder when staring at the work in front of you might actually yield something worth writing about. It’s all you’ve done since you picked up this stupid story and decided to chase it. Staring at the pages on your desk has become all the more common in the week since Javi ran out on you. He’s avoided your calls to his phone, you’ve not seen him around town, and the one time you decided to call the house, Chucho answered and with the most sincere voice you’d ever heard, told you he wasn’t in but that he promised he’d ask him to call you when he got back. That had been two days ago, so you’d practically given up all hope of ever hearing from him again.

For the first couple of days, you’d cursed yourself, wondering why you’d kept any of that stuff in the first place. Newspaper clippings and annotated notes about everything he and his team had done in Colombia. You didn’t need it anymore, thesis done, completed, and with a better mark than you could ever have hoped for. But until you’d seen him in the flesh, knew he was back for good and safe in Texas, it was the only way to feel close to him. Stupid for sure. But then the anger had set in - he’d no right to rifle through your drawers, pick up your notebooks and thumb through them. The barrage of different emotions was hard to deal with, and at the very base level, you missed him, you wanted him back, and you wanted to explain everything to him - that’s incredibly hard when he won’t answer his fucking phone though.

Turning your attention back to your work, you try and focus. You’ve met dead end after dead end with this stupid story and there really is only one place left for you to go. If it’s not Tyler then it has to be someone else in the family that’s involved. You can’t imagine it’s head of the family, so that really only leaves Tyler’s brother. It might be stupid and you might make a terrible enemy out of the mayor’s family, but there’s something else going on here and whatever it is, you’re going to get to the bottom of it, no matter how.

You can still never get over the size of the Johnson family home. Richard and his wife had two sons, one their pride, the other, not so much, but if you looked at their house, you’d think they had at least twelve children. No family needed this many rooms, you think, as you walk up the driveway.

It’s the early afternoon and you can see Garrett’s car parked in front of the house. Tyler will be at work, as will Richard, and you’re pretty sure their mother is never at home. You don’t really know what it is she does, but it’s some form of charitable work that involves travelling more than it does time at home.

You take a deep breath and ring the bell, waiting the appropriate amount of time before ringing it again. It’s a huge house after all, it must take a while to get from anywhere to the front door. A few seconds later, the door opens, and Garrett is stood in front of you, dressed in dress pants and a shirt that has the arms rolled up to the elbows. He smiles at you and opens the door a bit wider, invites you in - it’s much warmed than the reception you got from his brother.

“Lovely to see you,” He smiles, guiding you through the foyer and into the kitchen, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Water would be great, thank you.” You smile back, waiting for him to put a glass in front of you, topped up with water and fresh ice.

“I assume you’re here from the paper?” He asks, leaning cooly against the kitchen counter.

“That’s right,” You nod, sipping at the water, “Has Tyler spoken to you recently?”

Garrett shakes his head, “No, I haven’t seen him in a few weeks actually.”

You hum, nodding your head, thankful that you have the upper hand of surprise still - that this part of the family don’t know you’re sniffing around looking for a reason that one of their houses was used as some form of drug den.

“How have you been since Dylan died?” You ask, “I know you were really good friends.”

It’s a question that makes sense, they were very good friends, and although it’s been a while, you’re hoping your feigned concern for his mental welfare might make him open up.

“It’s been hard,” He starts, “He was my best friend, and to suddenly not have him around anymore…” He trails off, “I miss him.”

You nod, hoping the look of concern you think you’ve got across your face is projecting enough to make him feel like he can trust you.

“Was he the reason your dad has started being heavier with drugs in town?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Garrett nods, “He saw how fucked up it made me to lose my friend and decided enough was enough, that someone needed to do something to fix the trouble we’ve been having in town for years.”

There’s another nod from you, “Makes sense,” You offer, “Not really working very well though, is it?”

“These things take time.” He offers, in that perfectly practiced politician way that they always answer things.

“Look, I’m gonna cut to the chase Garrett,” You sigh, “That house in town that got raided recently? We’ve been looking into it and it all leads back to you, to your family, and it doesn’t matter who I ask, no-one knows why that place was being used as a drug den, but someone in this family knows exactly why.”

Garrett scoffs, “You’ll want to talk to my brother about that.”

“Well, that’s the thing Garrett,” You speak, “I did, and that man is clean as a whistle, he hasn’t taken drugs in at least a year, and the last time he was at the house, it was clear of anything,” You shrug, “I can’t imagine your dad being involved in anything like this, so that just leaves you.”

You can see his demeanour change almost immediately, he’s uncomfortable, moving from foot to foot and you can see the start of perspiration on his forehead.

“You’re telling me you think I’m involved in something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

He pushes himself from the counter he’s been leaning against, takes a few steps towards you, trying to intimidate you, but you know you’re pushing in the right direction, he wouldn’t be reacting like this if you were barking up the wrong tree.

“Where’s your evidence?” He asks.

“Maybe you’ll have to buy the paper to find out?”

“Listen here you little bitch,” He spits, pointing his finger in your face, “You ought to be careful about this, you think this is just me?” He asks, stepping even closer to you, making your breath catch in your throat, “You think you publish this story and it’ll just be me you have to worry about? You’re dead wrong, publish whatever story you’re planning and you’ll have a rain of fucking fire to deal with from people you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.”

“So, it was you then?” You can help but smirk, having caught him redhanded in a confession, the recorder in your bag that you’d pressed on before he’d answered the door your little secret.

You watch some kind of fury flick over his eyes as he grits his teeth, his hands pressed into your shoulders to push you back, “Stupid little girl.” He says as he pushes, but it’s a lot harder than you’d anticipated and it makes you lose your balance, falling backward.

It all happens in a blur, the side of your head makes contact with the corner of the kitchen island, pain spreading almost immediately across your forehead, vision blurring as your backside hits the floor. You’re sort of aware of something warm and wet dripping down your cheek, which you brush away with the back of your hand as you try and quickly reorientate yourself. Then you feel a hand wrap around your arm and a presence next to you, not quite all there enough to push it away.

“Oh shit,” You hear Garrett speak next to you, “Shit, shit shit,” He’s touching your face now, “I'm sorry, I- oh god - I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

You groan, letting your head tip back against the cool marble of the kitchen island, “Am I-” You struggle to speak, “Am I bleeding?”

“Oh god-” Garrett mutters, “I’m going to be sick.”

And then he’s gone, the sound of his shoes clipping against the floor as he runs to God knows where, leaving you disorientated and bleeding on his kitchen floor. You know you need to get out of here, slowly moving yourself just enough to push yourself to your feet, hands gripping the counter as you reach for your bag. You’re dizzy as you walk towards the door, looking down at the floor because as soon as you look up, you feel like you’re going to throw up and pass out. You can see yourself leaving small drops of blood on the floor as you move - a trail that follows you all the way down the driveway and to your car. You fumble with your keys, dropping them on the floor. When you bend over to try and pick them up, your vision goes fuzzy before you can grab them from the ground. You know you can’t drive like this.

In the haze of confusion you look around, a little way down the street you spot a phone box. It’s slow going, but you make it, pulling open the door, leaning against the glass wall, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and ease the ache behind your eyes. You shuffle through your bag to find your wallet, pulling out a handful of coins that you push into the slot. You think about phoning your father, but realise there’s only one person you want right now. Despite having his number memorised, you pull the worn card from your wallet, mainly to make sure that the haze of confusion doesn’t make you dial the wrong number. You drag your thumb over the faded number, watching a smear of blood cover it, and then press the number into the dialling pad, listening to it start to ring.

“Please Javi,” You whisper, “Please answer.”

You’re about to lose hope, expecting the phone to ring out, but through some form of divine intervention, the ringing stops and you hear the voice you’ve craved all week.

“Peña?”

“Oh Javi,” You sigh out in relief, feeling the prick of tears behind your eyes, “Help me.”

“Cariño?”

“Javi please, I need you.”

“What’s happened?” You can hear his tone change, concern and something else you can’t quite place, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, I just-” The ache behind your eyes is making you tired, “I need you to come and get me.”

“Has something happened?”

“Yes,” You reply, “I’m so tired Javi, I can’t drive.”

“Where are you?”

“The mayor’s house,” You reply, “Well- no - I'm in the phone box down the road.”

“You stay right there, okay?” He’s frantic on the other end of the phone, you can tell.

“Please hurry.”

He’s beside himself as he drives from the ranch and into town. A week of avoiding you, of avoiding his feelings towards you, and you’re hurt. He still can’t think about what happened. He doesn’t even know why he’d answered the phone this time - he’d avoided answering anything that had come through on his phone since he’d run out on you before, but there’s something today that made him pick up, and by God is he pleased he did. He doesn’t think he could have lived with himself if he’d let you call and left you hurt and injured in the middle of nowhere.

He thinks of all the other women throughout his life that he's let down. Lorraine and the way he left her, Helena and the way she risked herself for him, for the promise of a fucking visa, and paid the price. Most women in his life ended up hurt, emotionally or physically, and it was becoming evident to him that you were no different.

Not knowing, and not caring about how many speed restrictions he breaks, he makes it to the phone box in record time, cutting the engine and slamming the door behind him. He takes four or five big steps to the phone box, tearing open the door to find you slumped on the floor, eyes fluttering open at the disturbance. He takes a deep breath, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Cariño, it’s me,” He speaks softly, “Can you hear me?”

He takes your face in his hands, turns it towards the quickly fading light, finding the cut on your forehead. The blood has dried and scabbed over, but there’s a trail of crusting blood down your cheek and side of your neck. He thinks of Helena in this moment, about draping his jacket over her naked body, cradling her to his body, reluctantly handing her over to a paramedic, not knowing what would come of her.

“Javi?” Your voice is quiet, but your eyes are looking at him, glassed over, but at least you recognise him.

“That’s me,” He speaks softly, “Are you okay?”

“Tired,” You mumble, and then you shake your head in his hands, “Head hurts.”

“Shall we move you?” He asks, knowing he can’t leave you here, “Come here.”

Letting go of your face, he runs his palms down your arms to where your hands are clasped together. He gently pries open your fingers and takes hold of the card there, holding it up. It’s the card he’d given you with his number on, edges torn and worn. He can clearly see where you've run your fingers over the printed text, and where it's sat in your purse, pulled out and slotted bacon whenever you've needed him. He tries to take it, but your hand clasps over it again.

“Don’t,” You whisper, “It’s mine, don’t take it.”

“It’s okay, Cariño,” He replies, “I’ll keep it safe, just let me have it whilst we get you into the car.”

“My keys,” You mumble as he stands up, leaning down despite the protest of his knees and his back, “I dropped them.”

He’s scooping you up, not quite able to carry you, but able to lean you against his side to walk you to the passenger side of his truck.

“Where did you drop them?” He asks, settling you into the passenger seat, leaning across you to clip your seatbelt in.

“My car-” Your head lolls to the side, eyes hooded as you look at him, “On the ground.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, shutting the door gently. He finds your keys on the ground by your car, and then after checking that the doors are still locked, he shoves the keys into his pocket and focuses his attention back to you.

The drive out of town is slower, Javi conscious that he doesn’t want to jostle you too much. Each corner he turns makes you groan. He had considered taking you to your own home, but he decides instead to take you back to the ranch. He pulls up, noticing the lights on in the living room. He knows he’s going to have questions from his father, but he doesn’t worry about that, instead he focuses on getting you out of the truck and into the house.

There’s a look from Chucho when he bursts through the front door, but Javi gives him a clipped shake of his head and instead walks you up the stairs and into his room. He sits you down on the side of the bed, kissing your forehead as he grabs some supplies from his bathroom - a warm, damp washcloth and his bag of first aid supplies, put together by Chucho when he’d come back to the ranch - his dad not convinced he wouldn’t injure himself with the manual labour.

“Hey, cariño?” He speaks softly, on his knees in front of you, “Look at me?”

You do, but your eyes are barely open. He works quickly, wiping away the crusted blood from your face first before he turns his attention to the actual cut. Once he’s cleaned it a little, he can see it’s not as deep as he’d anticipated. He brushes it with an antiseptic wipe, soothing you when it stings enough to make you gasp, and then covers it with a small plaster.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as he eases you back on the bed, head down on his pillows.

“What for?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair from your face.

“Scaring you off.”

“Oh hermosa,” He breathes, feeling guilt pool in his stomach, nut not ready to quite face the conversation of what really made him run that night, “I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

He listens to you groan in approval, moving your body to get a little more comfortable.

“What happened today?” He asks quietly, trying to keep you awake so he knows who did this to you.

“Went to the house,” You speak, punctuated with a yawn, “Asked Garrett about the house.”

It’s almost like you get a second wind, trying to sit up, but he knows you need to stay still, so he gently pushes you back down.

“It’s him Javi,” You groan, “He’s the one dealing the drugs.”

“Shhhhh,” It’s the only thing he can think to do, “Just rest, cariño, we can talk later.”

Javi sits there for longer than he needs. You’re softly snoring within minutes, but he still sits there to make sure you’re out for the count. When he’s sure you’re settled and still breathing, he heads downstairs, ignoring his father’s knowing look as he pours himself a generous amount of whiskey.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Javi shrugs, “I’m not sure,” He answers honestly, “It’s new.”

“Not that new,” Chucho huffs, “You were always shit at sneaking around,” He picks up his own drink, “Saw you after my birthday.”

Javi tips his head back and can’t help but chuckle because it’s true, he was never good at keeping things from his dad. He just hopes you’ve both done a better job at keeping things from your parents.

“You know what you’re doing with her?”

It’s a question he doesn’t really know how to answer, mulling over the answer in his mind before he lets his mouth speak.

“I just know I want to keep her safe,” He speaks, “And that I think I might love her.”

Javi watches as Chucho’s mouth grows into a smile, a small nod given in his direction.

“Will she be okay?”

Javi nods, “I think so yes, hit her head pretty hard, but I think after she’s slept she’ll be okay.”

Chucho pushes himself from his chair, draining his almost-empty cup. He puts it in the sink and then puts a warm hand on Javi’s shoulder with a squeeze.

“I just want you to be happy, finally,” He says, “That’s all that matters.”

Javi watches as he walks away, off to his room to sleep, and speaks into the silence of the empty kitchen once he’s gone, “Thanks, dad.”

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cpd-55055 · 1 day

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Farewell Hailey Upton 💙

Tonight’s the night! The end of an era, the end of my PD journey.

I started watching this show at the end Season 6. I saw an Upstead edit on youtube, fell in love with Hailey, and the rest is history. No other character or ship has gotten me this obsessed with a show. Obsessed enough to create a tumblr page and start writing fanfic, and I don’t think any other character/ship/show will ever get me this invested. Whatever happens tonight, Hailey Upton will always be my favorite. Good ending or bad, Upstead will forever be my OTP.

I know neither of them will see this, but I’m so grateful to get to experience Tracy and Jesse’s chemistry for 5 years. Both are exceptionally talented, but Tracy especially is freaking amazing. She is able to convey so much emotion without any dialogue and that is so rare to see in the industry nowadays. I’m truly excited to see what’s next for both of them professionally and personally.

And huge thanks to all the Upstead/Hailey/Jay/PD content creators here. Thank you for the daily content here on Tumblr. (@spiridakos, @aayla-securas, @uptonhalsteads, @xofeno) Seeing new edits, and GIFs always make me happy to be part of this community. To the fanfic writers out there, you guys are insanely incredible. (@imjustwritingg, @fank0ne , @anniesardors , @upsteadhope , @justmypartner) You guys are doing this as a hobby but still manage to write creative pieces that are 10x better than the actual show’s writing. You guys inspired me to write, and although I’m nowhere near as good as you guys, I’m hoping to continue writing for our ship. And thank you to those who are always sharing their thoughtful insights and theories about this show. (@agent-bash , @spiridakosstyle, @go-to-two ) Without your positive energy, most fans (myself included) would have abandoned this show a long time ago. And to anyone else I missed, thank you for making this fandom happy, positive, and fun.

I know the past two seasons have been incredibly hard for us fans. I’m hoping and praying that it all pays off tonight, but whatever happens, just like Tracy said, #Upsteadforever ❤️

#chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead #upstead #jesse lee soffer #tracy spiridakos #upstead forever #thank you tracy #I don't care what happens tonight Upstead is endgame #To me the show ended in 9x09 before the chaos began

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dira333 · 2 days

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In Handwriting - Tanaka x Reader

written for my supersecret fix exchange with @haikyu-mp4

“Will you marry me?”

You blink in surprise. “Eh?”

The guy across from you blushes a feverish red, though he does not lose any of his confidence.

“I’m Tanaka,” he offers you his hand like it’s a sword and you’re the princess he’s sworn to protect. “The love of your life.”

You can’t help but giggle at that. He’s creative, you have to give him that.

“You’re very confident.”

“Confidence is my middle name,” he boasts, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Ah? Is that so? And what’s your first name.”

“Guess.”

“Ryūnosuke.” You can’t help but snort when his jaw slackens in disbelief.

“No way, how did you guess- Are you psychic?”

“It’s on your shirt,” you point at the name tag. “And I don’t spot a C for Confidence there.”

“Oh, that’s… uh… that’s because there was no more space,” he stutters for a second before getting back to his confident self. “But you looked at my chest.”

“I did,” you snort, “And you still need to tell me what you want to order.”

“What’s your favorite drink?”

“I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Mhm,” he smiles, “Try me.”

So you tell him, fighting a smile when he actually orders it, along with a cup of straight black coffee for his coworker.

You write his full name on both of the cups - even though the coffee shop is as empty as it could be - and add a little heart to both of them.

“Aww, you love me too,” he coos when you hand him the drinks. “Can I have your pen for a second?”

“Of course,” you hand it to him, watching as he scribbles onto the cup that contains your favorite drink.

“Here,” he hands you both the drink and the pen. “This one’s on me. I have to get back to work, but call me, okay? I need to know your ring size.”

You’re left speechless - and maybe swooning a little - until you look down at the cup.

His handwriting is awful and coupled with the curve of the cup it’s impossible to make out more than a few numbers.

What a shame. He’d been really cute.

He doesn’t come in the next day.

And it’s a shame, you think. You would have given him a chance - despite his ridiculous flirting, or maybe because of it.

Maybe he thinks you’re ghosting him now and that sentiment feels so wrong you start looking a little closer at the shops left and right, hoping you’ll find one with the same color scheme as his uniform.

But what if he’s not working at a store? What if he’s some assistant?

Your shoulder’s slump under the realization that you’ll probably not meet him again unless he’s the one initiating.

What a shame. He’d really been cute.

“Missed me?”

“Tanaka!” You almost drop your pitcher of milk. “What took you so long?!”

He reels back in surprise at your outburst.

“Sorry, I didn’t… wait, you really missed me?”

“Not really,” you start, slapping a hand on your mouth when you realize how that sounds, “I mean, that’s not what-... I have been looking for you.”

“You have?” He’s leaning in again now, lips stretched into an almost hopeful smile. “What for?”

“You’ve got the worst handwriting,” you huff out, taking him by surprise again. “I couldn’t decipher your phone number.”

“You wanted to call?” The surprise in his voice is so evident you can tell he’s not had much look with his flirting before. Well, not everyone has great taste.

“Yeah,” you huff again, looking to your left and right before pulling your phone out of your pocket and unlocking it. “Save your number before I change my mind.”

“You won’t regret it,” he insists. Something tells you he’s right.

“How did you guys meet?” Kiyoko asks, “Tanaka mentioned something about a coffee shop.”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “I work there. He asked me to marry him.”

She laughs. “That sounds like him.”

“What are you talking about?” Her husband Kōshi asks, wrapping his arms around her.

“Tanaka asked her to marry him when they first met,” Kiyoko explains simply and you watch with fascination as Kōshi laughs as well.

“Tanaka,” he calls out to your boyfriend, “Where’s the ring?”

Ryūnosuke, to your surprise, blushes a feverish red, hand clutching something in the pocket of his jeans.

Oh…

My Kofi if you'd like to tip me

#yes #Sugawara and Kiyoko are married in this AU #crackships are saying hello #my writing #haikyuu x reader #tanaka x reader #haikyuu x you #tanaka x you #tanaka fluff #tanaka ryuunosuke #tanaka ryunosuke x reader

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honeyedwordsandblades · 8 months

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Oh, who would have guessed? Needing to make a separate post all of my own because thirty tags is never enough for all that I have to say, for all that I have to, that I must type out? Me? Nooooo... lmao.

Anyway, here's my tags (and more of course there's always more) that were originally gonna be on silverformymonsters' gifset post of Astarion post-BG3 events sadly reaching his hand into sunlight, about a little imagined moment between him and my tav, Rose, now reformatted into a text post for all of yours' heartbreak and enjoyment.

I know this is a scene after everything. But I like to imagine it's a scene with not just him but also Rose. Not immediately after BG3 events. Not immediately after losing his ability to be in the sun. A bit of time after all that. Some personal quest of their's they're undertaking. Maybe to help him be in the sun again? Maybe something else, like for the 7000 vampire spawn in the Underdark? Maybe to find out more about his past, when he was alive? Of who he was, who family was etc.

Regardless, it's them underground in a cave. Rose is busy with something else. She's talking to Astarion while doing whatever she's doing. And mid-talking she finishes and turns around to see this. To see Astarion back turned to her, facing the sunlight peaking through from above. She stops talking immediately and just watches.

Watches as he reaches his hand out into the sunlight. Watches as he holds his hand out for as long as he can before it clearly hurts too much. Watches as his hand nearly fully turns to a gray ashy stone color, all too ready to crumble and drift away from a slight breeze. Watches as it shakes until he can't anymore, until he suddenly pulls his hand back. His hand immediately changes back to its normal color and appearance once as he does so but the moment is heartbrokenly seared into Rose's mind.

He half turns back to her. Eyes still on his hand. Mind surely still sadly reminiscing about when he very well could be in the sun. After a moment he looks up at her. Eyes staring back in… question, she takes it. As if to wonder why (and when) she stopped talking.

Although, he quickly realizes why. He frustratedly sighs and looks away for a moment (back to the sunlight) before turning back to her. Tells her about how 200 years in shadow he became all but used to the fact he would never see the sun again. Never feel its warmth on his skin. And then he had (a month? a few months? how long is bg3 supposed to take place? lmao) of it. It makes it all the more terrible to go back.

He knows they're looking for a way for him to be in the sun again. He knows that she'll search until her last breath and even then some. And, of course, he greatly appreciates it. She always has given him nothing but marvelous gift after gift. She is a marvelous gift. One that he will always cherish and be grateful for.

…But that doesn't mean he doesn't miss it. Miss the warm embrace of the sun. Miss being out during the day in the sun. ('You can forget just how much colour there is in the world.' She remembers well that odd out of the blue moment while they were in the city. It killed her then as does hearing him speak now about it breaks her heart completely.)

This is the price of his freedom though. Of their happy little life that they have now. He supposes it was well worth it. Even if he does miss the sun terribly. He tries to move the conversation back to why they're here in the first place but Rose refuses to let go of it.

She's immediately got her hands on his face, mouth on his (surprising him - what else is new lmao), fiercely kissing him with all the passion and heartbreak in the world, in the universe. And then wraps her arms tightly around him in a tight hug full of all her heartbreak and love for him.

She knows she's already done so before, but she pledges once again to him that they will find a way for him to see, to be in the sun again. She promises. She swears it.

Every time she's like this- With this fierce determination. This passionate loyalty (especially with him). It always somehow manages to surprise him. Even after all this time.

After a chuckle, he jokes about how she better (keep her word), he does terribly miss their little trysts, seeing her cheeks flush under the sunlight as he-

Okay! Okay. Oooh-kay. That's- That's enough. She immediately lets go of him and she's now changed the subject back to their job at hand.

As much as he doesn't wish to let go of the moment himself either, he still does. He knows she means it. She always has. And always will. And one day... He can't wait to see the sun again, to feel its warmth again, yes. But he can't wait to to see it, be under its rays once again with her. One day they- she will figure this out and he'll get see her beam just as bright as the sun above them. And he cannot wait to see it.

#astarion #tav!rose #man its so good to write all this #to write all the little novels (novellas?) and little essays in the tags of all these posts #i miss creative writing. i miss writing. so much.#and i'll get astarion's voice pinned eventually #i know it's not as difficult as it seems. i know that i (with all the hubris in the world in the universe) can do it. can channel him.#it's just gonna take a little bit of time. mostly just me getting over- well me. and my stuff that im going through. i just need to get out #my head (and into his). that's all.#anyway if you've read all this: omg thank you! thank you for taking the time to read it #this is just me lost in a daydream with our beloved vampiric elf #so i appreciate anyone who takes the time to read any of my little stupid reveries. much appreciated darlings ;) <3

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schrutexbucks · 1 month

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"You wanna hear the bad news or the really bad news?" "Actually, I don't want any news Damon." "Alright, let me rephrase: Do you want to hear how the council is back in vampire mode or how I just killed Uncle John Gilbert?"

The Vampire Diaries S1 E18 Under Control

one gifset per episode 18/171

#tvdedit #the vampire diaries #elena gilbert #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #stelena #delena #tvdgs #tvd #the vampire diaries season 1 #kelly donovan #tvdversegifs #tvdverseladies #jenna sommers #matt donovan #my edit #mine #my gifs #tyler lockwood #liz forbes #Honestly forgot how good this episode was.#caroline shouldve been there she wouldve loved this party. also missing bonnie so much.#okay like i know having a journal is like part of her character but elena couldnt write in secret code shes just blabbing about vamps #okay i think i've finally tweaked my coloring to how i like it. still need to work on dark night scenes but progress.#it is a scooch too pink for my liking but anything to cut the yellow i guess i'll tweak some more #that's the whole point of this i guess just a hobby that is useless but something to keep my creative mind busy so i dont kms

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quatregats · 4 months

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Went back and reread some of Master and Commander again and goddamn is that book rich with detail...truly I did not know how to appreciate it on the first (or second) read-through...

#19-year-old me was very silly but also there's just too much there for one reading #i'm now resigned to my fate (actually learning how ships and sailing work) and the previous owner of this book left very neat notes #so i think i'm going to try to follow in their footsteps and disentangle a bit of what's going on #plus go through it all more slowly i read way too fast and then i miss things #but yeah. like that one and i think also post captain and hms surprise are really just bottomless pits of historical detail #trying to write fic for it again and i'm realizing even more what an incredibly talented writer he was. just constantly in awe of mr. pob #perce rambles #The Creative Endeavor and other aubreyad nonsense

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nutklcker · 3 months

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I'm thinkin abt Anno rn and like

Imagine loving a Masked (romantically, platonically, or otherwise)

Wether you're an employee or a monster or whatever, you have a lovely little masked by your side all the time, and you collect scrap or hunt or just exist until eventually their body starts to deteriorate

And as a person, an organic thingy, you think it's dying and you mourn and spend your last days together, until eventually, one day, they stop moving

And then a few days later you notice the mask has fallen off, and you bring it with you as a keepsake, holding it with you for days, or weeks, or months, or maybe even years. Before eventually you just can't help it, you need to feel them, to see them, to hear them, to smell them, and you just need to be close to them again, and you bring the mask up to your face, it potentially fitting around your features perfectly, and it's like you feel them and see them and smell them again.

And then you feel their consciousness, and from her either can go two ways

Drunk on love and the grief of potentially reconnecting, you can't bring yourself to move the mask away, it feels like they're right there with you, you need to stay like this, because they feel so close. And eventually, the mask connects. And you can hear them and feel them and smell them again, but they're not there, they are but it's because they're within you. You share the same skin, you look with the same eyes and touch with the same hands, and you're perfectly together, whole once again, but in a new way that can never separate you two ever again. (*)

Or, the other option, you manage to pull the mask away, connecting the dots on what's happening, and you realize if you can just find a host you can have your lovely Masked back. So you spend time, maybe you hunt down a different Masked to use their body, maybe you go for the first humanoid thing you see like an employee or a Bracken, or maybe you are an employee and you send out a request for a new employee, recognizing you're dooming some newbie to death but coming to terms with that fate of theirs in order to have your loved one once again

And, there's a third option that's quite a but angsty beneath the cut

(*) Or, depending on your interpretation or wishes for how the masks work in this scenario, maybe once the make takes hold YOU die. And your poor Masked returns, recognizing this smell, these hands, this voice, and it's yours, but you're gone. And you've left them there, in your body, your decaying body. You had their mask, and their mask was basically immortal. But now? For them? You're gone, and the only physical remnant of you is theirs now, and because of the way their life works, that remnant is decaying, rotting, and eventually turning to dust. And once again they'll just be a mask, slowly falling off a body, waiting for someone to put it on.

#host #anyways I'm normal rn /lying #angst #vent #kinda?#we've been switching so much recently and I haven't had a lot of time to live my life so I've had a lot of pent up emotions #but some creative writing helps #especially when I think about option one and the possibility of basically cuddling Anno forever #but now I feel Rend tugging at my brain cuz he wants to think abt the prompt too #sigh #I love my brain guys #they make my life better #but also I miss being around sometimes #oh well #say la vee or whatever /lhj #also ignore any spelling errors I'm so so tired /pos /nm

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doverstar · 2 months

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an absolute wave of homesickness for Doctor Who (2005) series 1-2 just about knocks me over at the quietest moments of my little life

#it was such a specific time. I was just a kiddo #still living with my parents with a giant bedroom downstairs all to myself #it used to be a hair studio or something for whoever lived there before us. and I had this massive room with a table to draw and write at #and a tiny twin bed and I used to set up a projector against the opposite wall and hook it up to my laptop and watch DW to fall asleep #enthralled. couldn't believe the show I'd found. couldn't believe how much I loved Rose and loved the Doctor #you could not drag me away from it. I could not stop talking about it or thinking about it. Matt Smith had just become the Doctor and I-#-had so much content left to consume. and everything was simple. I didn't have a job at the time and every day was creativity #I used to write so much I'd forget to eat. and Doctor Who was the background music of my life back then #I miss winter nights swearing I'd only watch one more episode before I went to bed. all by myself. my family hadn't discovered the show yet #in that small single bed with four blankets and Doctor Who on the wall. drooling over timepetals and pausing and rewinding constantly #that time of my life was so safe and so secure and my imagination was so hungry and DW was feeding it and it was my first time seeing it #I miss that. I miss knowing it couldn't be ruined and there was more yet to see on live television with Eleven when I got caught up #and meeting Matt Smith's Doctor on my own while my family had just then started watching it themselves with Nine? magic #nostalgia #dw #doctor who #bbc #timepetals #dr who #rose tyler #doctor who 2005 #tenth doctor #tenrose #elevenrose #ninerose #nine #ninth doctor #ten #eleven #eleventh doctor

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padfootastic · 1 year

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in a turn of events that doesn’t surprise anyone im sure, @impishtubist has caused yet another scene to be stuck in my head until i wrote it down. so, have some sexy, greying sirius; a deeply thirsty, appreciative james who won’t let him dye it; and a very-fed-up-of-his-parents-antics harry for prongsfoot wednesday!

Harry entered the house with ‘I’m home!’ on his lips that died an instant death as soon as he registered what he was seeing.

“Er,” he hesitated. Does he really want to—? One more look at the scene in front of him and he decided to bite the bullet. Better to clear the air now than keep stewing on it later.

“Um. Is this a—kink? A fetish? Should I leave and never come back?”

In any other scenario, the way both his parents froze and looked at him with wide eyes would’ve been comical.

If only Dad wasn’t straddling his Papa on the ground, one of his hands holding both of Papa’s above him with disturbing ease.

“Er—“

“It’s not what it looks like, Haz!” Dad yelped, cutting across Papa who’s face and neck were turning a steady pink. “I swear.”

“Then why are you still—like that?” Harry asked, deciding to play it safe and look at the boring grey couch in the living room instead. Nothing scandalous going on there.

He could hear the scrambling of feet, a few thumps, and a mini-yelp, absently wondering about the amount of noise the simple act of getting up could produce.

“Right.” Dad cleared his throat. “So, Harry, would you please tell your Papa that he is, under no circumstances, allowed to dye his hair?”

Harry blinks, turning to his other, exasperated, father in silent question.

“Harry, will you please tell your Dad that this is my hair and I can do with it as I please?”

“Not when you promised yourself to me!” Dad yelps and Harry is hit with an intense wave of regret at instigating this.

“Promised—?”

“Yes! Our wedding, you said, and I quote, ‘I give myself to you, James Potter, mind, body and soul’, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Of course I didn’t forget,” Papa throws his hands up in the air. “But c’mon James—this is not what I meant when I said body!”

“What, you think I only wanted you for that ars—“

“Dad!” Harry, yelps, mortified. He can feel his cheeks heating in a violent blush. He can feel a similar flush creeping up Papa’s neck. Sadly, his words don’t have the deterring effect he’d intended.

“I mean, it is spectacular, don’t get me wrong, but you’re more than just a beautiful body, Si!”

“James, please, have some mercy for our child, if not me,” Papa says. Thankfully, this seems to register as Dad’s eye widened, part horror and part apology. Harry waves it away tiredly; though he’s no less embarrassed every time it happens, growing up in the Potter household with two extremely affectionate parents has exposed him to much worse. He’s accepted it as his lot in life.

“Er—yeah, anyway,” he coughs, ruffling his hair, “Bottom line—Sirius isn’t allowed to dye his hair.”

“I literally never agreed to that.”

“Too bad because you will,” Dad says, slowly moving towards Papa with a look on his face that Harry is loath to describe as predatory. If only it wasn’t so true.

“Oh?” Papa’s left eyebrow rises extraordinarily high, as it tends to do quite often. He crosses his arms over his chest in challenge. The motion makes his Dad smile.

“Mhm.” The two of them are chest-to-chest by this point, staring into each other’s eyes. Harry could probably conduct a whole rave party right here, right then, and they wouldn’t even notice. That is when he decides it’s high time he should step in—not literally, Merlin, no—before they end up doing something that makes him try to run away (again).

“So I was right—it is a kink,” Harry says dryly, once again regretting starting this entire conversation in the first place. He should’ve just turned back around and gone to the Weasleys instead.

“Harry, no—“

Three years later, Harry—who’s almost blissfully forgotten about the entire incident—walks into his parents’ house to an almost identical scene, just with his Papa on top this time. This time, he makes the sensible choice he still regrets not making all those years ago, and walks right back out the door.

Let those two sort it out on their own. Merlin knows his intervention hadn’t helped a bit the last time around.

#sirius black #james potter #prongsfoot wednesday #bambibelle #prongsfoot #harry potter #not one person far has the ability to make me write on command like miss imp #it’s absolutely ridiculous (i love every second of it)#which reminds me #my sentient black tapestry fic is still in the drafts 😭😭😭#(yes there is a reference to harry running away from home bc he saw his parents kiss each other—and more—one too many times)#i just think the idea is exceedingly funny hehehe #little harry packing a backpack and running away to the weasleys #or hell. teen harry walking in & out of the house and not being found for the next day and a half bc he saw them snogging #also just want it to be known that i was giggling so much while writing amorous j/s and traumatised harry #bc it’s all jokes anyway. harry lowkey adores how in love his dads are. wants the same for himself #boys got HIGH standards #as he should #bc his parents aren’t gonna allow anyone but the best for their son #also SPOILER ALERT: sirius obviously loses. james employs some *creative persuasion* a box of dye never entered their house after that #pen’s writing #tumblr works

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