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silverloreley · 2 years

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The other parents...

So, I fell in the Descendants rabbit hole again and...

I’m still disappointed of the big plot twist of Hades being Mal’s father, because it contradicts the first book (but I have to guess Melissa de la Cruz wasn’t told so it’s not her fault) and because it makes Mal unnecessarily powerful. On the other side, I love Cheyenne Jackson’s Hades, it’s a great Hades, if you ask me.

But this led me to another point, which is the very unanswered question of who the other VKs parents are. Not all of them, but, at least the main ones?

Fanwriters tend do gloss over, pick at random, or invent OCs, save for Evie for whom I have seen the weirdest takes (the Horned King and Scar are possibly top wild ones, pun intended).

Me? I probably spent too long thinking about it in the past years and now that I have a tiny bit of free time I want to share all my ideas.

One thing before anything: I think the Villains can’t die (or die again, in most cases) as long as the Barrier stands and I think the reason they were revived to be put on the Isle (aside from plot reasons) is because the Auradon rulers were afraid necromancy could be used and decided to preventively trap the dead Villains before anyone (like Nasira, Jafar’s sister from the videogame) could try, and them dying again on the Isle would defeat the purpose, so the original Villains can’t die. Everyone born after can, though. It was supposed to teach the Villains to care for their own, maybe.

Okay, to my ideas:

Mal: we have canon, yes, but we didn’t until D3 came out, so I either thought, there was an unnamed OC (as the book implied) or Maleficent just deposed an egg. After the teaser for D3 I was fully convinced her dad could be Mor’du. No, really, Hades was not in my thoughts at all. But, if I had dug a bit, I would have found/remembered the House of Mouse episode in which Hades courted Maleficent and then I could have considered it. Still, I both like and dislike canon.

TL,DR: we have canon dad Hades and that’s good enough, but I used to like the idea it could have been Mor’du.

Jay: there are fics that imply or outright state he may actually be Jasmine’s son and either Jafar raped her or he kidnapped hers and Aladdin’s firstborn. In both cases he’d be older than the Isle and, while the book implies he could be a little older than Mal, he’s certainly not 20 yet, so that idea is a no, for me. From what we know about the Isle’s captives, there were not only Villains but indesiderables too, aka everyone the new Auradon would consider “tainted”, and I’m almost sure common thieves and prostitutes would be in there. So Jay’s mother is possibly some common minor criminal. I also considered another idea: the sultanate of Agrabah seems to be rather small and, in the new live action movie, the maps point at the chance of multiple principalities in the area, about the size of city-states, each with their own ruling families, perhaps. So, what if Jay’s mother was a princess? Just, like, the daughter of some evil ruler, or a minor evil one herself, why not? In the book (yes, again), Jafar says that Jay should be “a prince, parading on elephants“ and I don’t think he means “if only my plan went right“ but he’s talking about legit birthrights (for this last part, we could also consider the OUAT:iW route that says Jafar was the illegitimate brother of the sultan... but I don’t like where it would lead, unless we say it was another sultan and not Jasmine’s father. But I like the 2019 live action’s version better).

TL,DR: Jay’s mother is either a common “criminal” (thief/conwoman/prostitute/...) or she’s from another principality/sultanate, aka a disgraced princess.

Carlos: Cruella DeVil canonically married multiple times, assuming any of her husbands could be Carlos’ father wouldn’t be a stretch, we’d only have to figure out which one was the last. And a name. (Uh, the Cruella live action doesn’t count in this case because it was a wholly different story, I consider it a remake-retcon rather than a prequel). From a very old videogame we have a Dr Farzboom who was an inventor smitten with Cruella and with a nice personality, all traits that would make him a likely father to Carlos.

I also like the idea he could be the son of another Disney character, for the longest time I considered Hans because he’s the only villain with freckles (and that could make Carlos and Evie half-siblings, I’ll get to that later), but why wouldn’t he, who was neglected by his own family, try to stay in his son’s life? Meh.

And then, with Encanto out... I read a fic with Bruno being sent to the Isle and... well...

I’ve always thought: if Cruella is British, why would she chose a Spanish name for her son? She could have called him Charles, it’d make more sense, unless the father is a Spanish-speaker and he chose the name? And, okay, Carlos’ cousin’s name (again, from the book) is Diego, another Spanish name and Encanto came out last year, this is a stretch, I know, but Bruno as Carlos’ father? Being drawn by the fact the DeVils are a large family like his but not realizing at first how crazy they are? Bruno living in the walls of Hell Hall and coming out at night to grab food and help his son with the chores in secret but Carlos not knowing and being afraid of the noises he sometimes hears in the house? The fact they’re both soft-spoken and a bit of scaredy cats? Very smart and very underestimated and very much abuse victims, although in different ways? Them going to Encanto together after the Barrier is taken down and Carlos meeting his cousins and getting his gift and helping with Casita’s impending destruction (aka Carlos in the movie)? I love this theory and I’m considering adopting it as my headcanon.

TL,DR: Carlos’ father could be one of Cruella’s canonic husbands/partners like Dr Farzboom, or Prince Hans, or Bruno Madrigal.

Evie: the Evil Queen must have had standards, we should all agree on that. So Evie’s father couldn’t have been just anyone. I already mentioned the theories about him being the Horned King from Black Cauldron (ewww) or a humanized Scar (less ewww but still...), there are some that say it could be the Huntsman (but he was the one who helped Snow White escape, would he be on the Isle in the first place?) so no to those for me. I mean, I get “I’m a queen and I’d only marry a king“ but the Horned King would be too hideous for the Evil Queen to consider, I think she’d look for someone noble and handsome enough to have a pretty progenies at the very least.

I mentioned Hans when talking about Carlos and I think he’d be a good fit: prince, handsome, young, smart, he’d be a great candidate in EQ’s eyes... if only he had anything to rule over he’d be perfect. That would mean Evie has princess birthright from both sides, as small as the chance for her to becoming queen could be (she’d still need to marry someone closer in line to a throne). It’s a win on all sides. Plus there was the bit of Evie and Carlos being potential half-siblings and Carlos is implied to have skipped grades/being younger than the other Rotten Four so maybe the EQ kicked him out after finding out he was 14th/15th in line for the throne (I assume his eldest brother would have children by that time) and maybe he went to look for someplace else to stay. By the same brand of cutesy, instead of Cruella, he could have been matched up by Lady Tremaine with Drizella and being Dizzy’s father, making Evie and Dizzy half-sisters, that would be nice too.

Or, and that circles back to the start, EQ found herself an actual King of a decayed but still reclaimable kingdom, aka Mor’du but I can’t fathom why wouldn’t a man with a strong temper not stay and try to reign in his own wife, unless he was too exasperated (like Hades with Maleficent) and left.

TL,DR: the Evil Queen would have chosen someone noble and handsome and the best candidate would have been Prince Hans, or Mor’du, as long as we keep canon for all the rest. I still think Hans would be the best pick.

Uma: it’s sort of fanon-estabilished her father is Dr Facilier, I suppose because the actresses who play Uma and Freddie are sisters and I like the idea. Plus, I like to think the YouTube series “The Villains’ Lair“ is a sort of prequel to Descendants (from before the Isle was made) and Facilier and Ursula get along quite well in that. For the same reasons, Freddie’s mother would be Ursula, I’m not sure about Celia, who is younger, but she could be too.

Harry Hook (and the Hook siblings in general): does anyone know “The Pirate Fairy“ movie? The one where young James Hook had as his voice actor Tom Hiddleston? Well, I saw it, and shipped young Hook with Zarina. I think, by Auradon standards, she’d be considered a Villain or Villain-adjacent too and shipped on the Isle, likely in human form. Someone had my same idea and put it in words before me. So the Hook siblings are half-fairy.

Gil: for some reason, I don’t think he’s the son of one of the bimbettes (his brothers must be, though). I think his mother could be a pirate or something, I don’t have a clear idea.

I think I covered all the main ones. Feel free to interact with the post.

#disney descendants #descendants

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raymondvelez · 2 years

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“Castillo’s Bar” by R. Rivera

I spaced out thinking about Marlen while waiting at the bar. I knew I should just call an Uber and head straight home to get yelled at; but on this night, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it for some damn reason. It was like I’d reached a dangerous point of negligence in our relationship. I knew I belonged home. But half the time it be feeling like I’m homeless or something.

I almost forgot I was at a bar until my day dreaming was interrupted by the bartender. It wasn’t the owner I was talking bout earlier. Instead, it was this cute Belizean chick wearing what I was certain was a Rolex Submariner. She must have been hiding in the back I suppose; because her timepiece was clanking against the bottles of Schlitz she was clutching as she placed them in her mini fridge.

“I’ll be with you in a moment, hun.” She said while squatting in front of the fridge.

“Take your time, mama.” I replied.

She could have gone on to check her entire beer inventory for all I cared. I wasn’t even all that much in the mood to drink. But asking for just a glass of lemon water will rub any bartender the wrong way.

“What can I get for you?” She finally asked.

“Can I get vodka and grapefruit juice? With a splash of seltzer water?” I replied.

“Ice or no ice?”

“Thank you for asking. A few ice cubes should be good. Thank you, mama.”

Vodka and Grapefruit juice is the perfect drink for a hangover. It gets you back in the game if the night before was just coke and whores. And, if you just wanna sit at the bar and let go, it’s the perfect cocktail to read or listen to music too.

And that’s the cool thing about Castillo’s. The only music that plays, comes from that classic jukebox. Man, she’s such a beautiful time machine. You know what else? You actually have to feed the old hunk of junk dollars if you wanna hear “Remind me” by Patrice Rushen.

“What’s your name?” She asked before neatly placing my drink and napkin in front of me.

“Los Cruz.”

“Nice to meet you, Los. I’m Crystal.”

“Did you ever figure out that presentation?” I asked.

“I’m sorry?” Crystal replied leaning her head to the side with that confused face we all make.

“That PowerPoint presentation. For Taft I think it was.

“Yes. I did.” She hesitated. “How’d you know I went there?”

“I would come in here. Most of the time with my girl at the time, and by myself here and there; and I’d drink and talk to your dad for hours. Eventually your dad started asking me how Powerpoint worked. One time he even came in with a laptap so I could show him. So, I just wanted to make sure you were able to figure it out.”

“Yeah. We were able to. To figure it out, I mean.” Crystal replied misty eyed.

“That’s great.” I replied before sipping my drink.

“I eventually kept doing them until I graduated from DePaul.”

“DePaul? That’s awesome. Looks like homework wasn’t a problem for you. Congratulations. How’s your father doing these days? It’s been a while.”

“He passed away almost two years ago.” She replied before rubbing the tear out of her right eye.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Your dad was a good man. The real kind, too. The kind of person that always has a good energy about him.”

“Thank you.” Crystal replied.

“No. I mean it.” I continued. “He was very genuine. You can’t fake that.

“He left me his bar as you can see!” She replied spreading her arms open.

“I see!” I replied matching her energy.

Crystal was kind of buzzing. So, I made it my duty to not mention her father again for the rest of the night. But if she needed a little more comfort as she mourned him, I had some more nice stories of Mr. Castillo to tell.

“Let’s take a couple shots. On me.” Crystal suggested.

“I don’t know. I was actually planning on getting out of here soon.” I explained.

“I insist. You knew my father.”

“Sure.” I agreed. “Can you break this?”

Crystal snatched the bill out my hands, dug in her register and came back with a ten, five and five singles. She then slid a footstool over so she could reach to the very top of the shelf and pull down the antique whiskey bottle. I couldn’t make out the name, but it was obviously aged well. While Crystal handled the shots, I shoved a dollar into the Jukebox and flipped through catalogs by Minnie Riperton, Alicia Meyers and Angela Bofill. Once I saw a picture of Cheryl Lynn, I turned back and selected “Shake it up Tonight”. By the time I returned to the bar, there were two shots resting upon napkins right night to what apparently, was now going to be my second cocktail.

“Dance with me.” Crystal instructed while swaying side to side.

As the song started, I inched closer and closer bobbing my head until my hands were on Crystals hips as we faced each other. We stepped side to side until we eventually noticed that we had danced our way back to the bar where I was sitting. We downed our shots of whiskey but we didn’t go back to dancing. We stared at each other for a second too long before I assumed this was a signal for me to go in for the kiss.

After I felt just how soft Crystal’s lips were before pulling back, I took an additional glance into her eyes as if to ask if kissing her was alright. She answered this question by stepping on her tippy-toes and reaching for my lips with hers. Once she connected, I grabbed her closer to by chest. I did this by grabbing her by the hips once again and hugging her closer so we could make our ways from lips to neck. We eventually waiting for me to stop kissing her neck before we looked at each other so Crystal could decide where to take this. Crystal decided to peck me on my lips and walk back around the bar as if to say she wasn’t going to be anymore unprofessional than she had allowed herself to be.

I sat back at my barstool and took another huge swig of my Grapefruit Vodka. Crystal grabbed a towel and started wiping down the counter like nothing had happened.

“So, you live in the area? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.” Crystal asked while pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

“No. Just visiting.” I replied.

“Visiting? This late? You got a girlfriend who lives around here or something?”

So right here there’s a seventy percent chance she’s hitting on me. She’s still down to continue but she’d rather do it at her place. She’s classy.

“Well, I was planning on heading home after a couple drinks. I just fell asleep on the train and missed my stop.” I told her.

“Well, if your stop is too far, you’re welcome to crash at my place tonight. Nobody wants to ride the Red Line this late.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, mama.”

“No problem, pa. Plus, you’re a good kisser.” Crystal said before fake fixing her ponytail with a smile.

Crystal is one of those bad ass Belizean chicks that knows she’s bad. And bad for multiple reasons. She’s more than just a fat ass and cute round face. She’s educated and owns a profitable business. I don’t know why she just chose me. But I need to get home. Marlen is gonna kill me at this point.

I checked my iphone again for any signs of a missed call or text from Marlen. Nothing. Damn.

At this point I was debating what to do. Debating where to go. I mean Crystal was sexy as fuck. But I wasn’t one hundred percent confident she was under the legal limit. She definitely was farther gone than I was. If I was buying call options, I’d say that she was four shots ahead of me. Meaning we’d have to leave now and head back to her apartment before she gets any drunker. And that’s assuming she doesn’t have another drink before she does all that. And that doesn’t appear to be the situation here. Right now, she’s down for a little more conversation before she eventually starts slurring. And then she’ll start crying because I knew her dad. And she’s gonna go on a tangent about how her daddy’s still watching her and she doesn’t want to run his bar because she has a bachelor’s degree. And a whole buncha other shit before she eventually starts crying. Nope. I’m good.

“I think Ima get outta here though.” I said to her as she walked to the jukebox.

“Where are you gonna go?” Crystal asked annoyed.

“Ima Uber it back home. You’re right it’s too late for the train.”

“Well, let me close up here and we can Uber to my crib.” Crystal offered.

I started to feel bad for her. Now she was getting desperate. That type of desperation on a chick makes you wonder if she’s a sucia or something. Either way, I wasn’t taking any chances. Plus, I have a girl. Tf.

“No, mama. I gotta go. But here, take my number down.”

Crystal leaned her head to the side in disappointment as she wrote her number down on a receipt.

“You call me.” Crystal said as she handed me her phone number.

“Okay. I will. Get home safe, mama.” I said before giving Crystal a peck on her cheek.

Curving women in any fashion is not to be taken lightly. Especially when they’ve put themselves out there the way Crystal just did. You must approach these kinds of things delicately. Women aren’t built for rejection. Especially girls as attractive as Crystal. This was a classic situation where the person giving out their number is trying to regain any control; they think they might have lost by making the first move. Crystal giving me her number was her way of saying she wasn’t going to chase me anymore than she just had. And that’s when you take the number knowing you’re never going to call. You see, the only chance we ever had at hooking up was just a few moments ago before I declined leaving with her. But I had to. I’m not waking up in a strange girl’s apartment the next morning where there’s even a slight chance, she might say she was too drunk to remember how much she was just throwing it at me.

I left Castillo’s Bar feeling worse than I came in. I walked farther down Howard as if I knew where I was going. I didn’t. But that didn’t stop me from walking. I’ll do that if I’m depressed enough. Walk around mindlessly, ya know. I’m more likely to do it with some alcohol in me if I’m being honest. I’m definitely not roaming the streets sober. I think I was homeless in a past life or something. Because I really don’t be giving a fuck sometimes. I think that’s why it’s just so easy for me to walk away from anything and everything if I feel it’s no longer worth the effort. Because I’m more than willing to slum it. Like who really cares? What’s the point? We’re all going to die anyway. I mean if I died tomorrow, it would be tragic sure because I’m young and so full of potential as everyone says. But what do I really care? And who would really care besides my mother? Marlen would care sure, but not for the reasons we think. She’d care because now she’d have to start from scratch and invest her time and what little youth she has left into a new man. And what if the new man doesn’t exceed the expectations that I’ve already set? Sure, I have a hard time coming straight home. But maybe I wouldn’t lose myself every day at Happy Hour if I had a home to come to where my only value isn’t just paying the bills and taking out the garbage.

#short story #flash fiction #poem #poerty #fiction #wordporn #writing #writers on tumblr

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castle-dominion · 6 months

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castle 7x9 last action hero

the action movie episode liveblog

hard kill garbage earbuds sus person running person dead person!! Love the music btw talking out loud to himself

Aw I love 90s beckett's style Oooh allclads are a good brand! But bex is right, some pans just Work Better, you can't just live life with a full set of one, you need a couple mismatched ones thrown in there too. & it has pictures in it.

Cousin sofia! Nice Bex offended mr kuniak XD ofc he never said anything, that'd be impolite

Hohhhh her puppydog sleeves <3

raises crime scene tape uwu He's that guy! Esposito's face of "Really castle? HIM above any of the OTHER action heroes?" RC: Ex-Navy Seal Zen master Rico Cruz? With the catch phrase “Time to hit Cruz control”? JE: Yeah, I was never a fan. KR: Me either. What’s he done lately, anyway? JE: Yeah, right? RC: (seriously) Beat leukemia. KR+JE:

Lanie <3

LP: Cause of death is clearly strangulation by ligature. KB: A narrow ligature, from the looks of it. KR: Made by a thin wire tied to two wooden dowels? KB: KR: CSU found this in a dumpster. KB: A garrote? Who would use one of those? JE: Special forces will sometimes, when they want to kill quietly. RC: The bigger question is how they got the drop on Lance Delorca. KR: Uh, Lance played an action hero, Castle. Doesn’t mean he was one. RC: Au contraire, mon frère. Thank you transcript for actually saying that, screw you captions. I speak French, I want to see the words. If hearing bilingual people can understand the french, Ddeaf/hoh ppl should be able to have that same opportunity. RC: Lance was born in Spain where, before he became an actor, he was a member of the CNI, the Spanish Intelligence Agency. He was black ops. This man was a lethal weapon. Me then: Wow, that's so fake, he wouldn't become an american actor. Jon Huertas: *was in the military, poor guy, before becoming an actor & is literally Esposito in this very show* But then again, I have a friend from Israel/Sri Lanka (I think he grew up in israel but was originally from sri lanka, idk) & he was in the air force for thirteen years but I met him as a cheap cafe sandwich maker in the banquet cold kitchen. I mean he left that job a couple weeks ago for private security but other than that. My point is, being n the military does not denote your future, you can escape your past.

Love the music btw

*Knows it word for word* RC laughs. He notices KR+JE’S looks. RC: I was raised by a single mother. Hard Kill was how I got my brotime. KR: That explains so much. JE: Mmhmm.

JE: Yeah, the guy from The Indestructibles movies, where all the badass action heroes band together for one last mission. KR: Before they die of old age? JE: Hey. That’s a great film. And so was the sequel. Sequels are never good bro KR: (sarcastically) Yeah.

KR: The redhead, she’s an archaeologist? That strains credibility. (XD casually sexist) JE: Yeah, in a good way. KB: Hard at work investigating, I see. They all turn around quickly. (Love her)

Castle being sort of helpful while just watching movies *pushes esposito out of the way a bit* why garroute, not garawt? KB: I know what her name is. While you were having your B-movie festival, I tracked her down. She’s in New York. She’s shooting a film and she’s on her way in now. *Esposito's face lights up & Castle accidentally hits ryan*

love the music XD but bex, let Castle find girls pretty in the past tense, he had her poster on his wall when he was younger & def before he met you that is ok.

oh no Another indestructibles? before they all die of old age? Yay friends Wow guns Cheesy is not bad KB: The real miracle is how a girl like that’s hanging out with a bunch of guys old enough to be her grandfather. She's not wrong

RC: Hi, Mr. Harmon. Huge fan. Huge fan. (he holds out his hand for a shake) I – I’m – it’s an honor – honor to meet you. Brock Harmon: The honor is mine. I’ve passed many an hour in the john reading your books. (in the washroom but still, he reads em! Love it when two celebrities are fans of each other lol)

Sometimes they say first names, sometimes they say last names.

When castle said that I just thought "Jon huertas was drawing on his past as an airman to play a detective (who used to be a green beret)" but also I miss the days when Castle said smart stuff

Just so happens that everyone they need is in new york i love it

I know why they are "stonewalling" her heheh oh yeah she has "guys" in washington now!

Why Hard Kill of any of the ppl he's played?

KR: (reading the tagline) “Time to hit Cruz control.” Maybe that’s what I need, a catchphrase. (he lowers his voice) Time to meet hard justice. Time for prison time. (nOOO I HATE IT MY FACE IS CAUGHT BETWEEN A CRINGE & A SMILE JHDSKJHSDFJ) XD on second thought: don't. clipping.

Oh yeah I remember this stuff. Man's a regular little robotics high school student!

Oh yeah sobriety. Loev the set behind them too lol

Ooh I noticed the commotion in the background this time! Man holding his face!

Classic action movie other wife XD

{But Castle couldn't tell that this man was NOT ex-cni? He got beckett's entire life story so why is this like this?} btw I want a fanfic where castle pulls the same trick he did on beckett to learn abt esposito & ryan's lives

espt layers upon layers isexy

Enrique Gomez: He needed a bodyguard. Somebody he could trust. And I know such people. But none of them were available on such short notice, so I couldn’t help him. I mean yeah no yeah that's how things go

At least he ASKED his friend I mean Tavi was a sheep herder too! But then he became an operative! & wanted to be a lawyer! & then became captain of the army! & then became the king of the entire nation!

Aww castle so depressed deeply personal XD Tori *pops out* *pops back in*

Earology XD but also acupuncturists might know a lot, I feel like that could be a plot point in a future episode & the shows the little animation XD like girl why not just say "I have an ID" & give the ID & if they ask say "I compared her ear shape to pictures of women connected to Lance DeLorca" & show the green pic of the scan but since you already compared it, you don't need to compare it to any more (which is where we got that pretty ear shape animation from)

not quoting, rather clipping, but the captions are incorrect so beware

I like how dark the obs room is in comparison to the inter room but the box is still so dim

set smth right! Words we've said before!

RC: My opinion is not affected by her skimpy outfit. I’m speaking as an objective investigator. Someone who has set their personal feelings aside. KB: Along with your poster? RC stops abruptly. RC: Who told you? It’s Ryan, wasn’t it? Apparently everyone knows ryan as the blabbermouth. "She's going away with her boyfriend!" "It only proves that Ryan has a big mouth" like girl this is a minor character trait for him at this point

Yay I'm hopefully getting my meds filled! I went to the hospital for self harm & suicidal motives on wednesday & I still haven't gotten my meds yet *goofy face emoji* but now I am yayay

why does ryan say "except for her story is still holding up" instead of "except that her story is still holding up" but ig it's better "except FOR the fact THAT her story.."

slaps ryan's mouth XD

her fridge is EMPTY

THANK YOU! Thank you Lanie for giving us all this information, all the reminders of the past, the explosion, the best apartment ever! Also I totally thought that they were going to kiss & then I forgot this isn't fanfiction. Btw we need more femslash in fandom. Straight women, we need you! Lol wine in ceramic mugs

Ooh Ryan's outfit! It was good yesterday but now it is also good today!

Hollywood style one at a time fight, castle's face, espt's face, castle's face, espt's nodthe MUSIC, man he did a great job choosing the right instruments for this!

Reminds me, I was in martial arts as a kid (& I wish I could go back but college is awful & nobody should have to work more than five hours a day /gen /revolution /ubi) & some friends of mine got into a fight at mcdonald's & they TOTALLY should have asked for the security footage!

btw, kicks are low not for their face

You get sides of pork, not sides of beef. Cattle are cut into quarters. Sorry lol I took a meat fabrication course in college

Standing in a very fenton oconnell type way there huh

JE: AD says his name is Ernest Howe. He’s playing ISIS militant number twelve. KR: Not for long. You know what time it is? It’s Ryan time. KR walks, JE follows him. JE: Please. Just stop. KR: Name’s Ryan and I hate lyin’. (he flashes his badge) JE: Oh my god KR: Ernest Howe! NYPD. not clipping too embarrassing KR: Oh, you’ve got trouble. Ryan trouble. JE hangs & shakes his head EH, softly & deeply: I don’t know what that means.

add to 1x7 when esposito & ryan were about to fck "moot" btw love espt's outfit. "put the hurt on all of you" sounds like irish, "there is hurt on me" or "there is hunger on me" is how irish sentences work

wait then why were you there beating on him in the alley? Or maybe they couldn't connect him to any of the assaulters, he just looked kind of like them

Ryan mr narco didn't notice? well ig it has been like 9 years since then...

love a good old middle aged dude

RC: I’ve learned that every good fiction contains a kernel of truth. Mr writer

BH: Say, the gang and I are going out for drinks later tonight. How’s you like to come with us? RC: RC: BH: Castle?

RC to KB: You are my boyhood dream.

XD that little run! He's a teen girl I love him!

There is NOT enough space for three broad shouldered adlult men to sit in a caar together

BH: Somebody takes out one of our own, we take him out. Valid ig? but castle is right: Oh, guys. Hey. Listen. If your plan is to go to the club and steal that slot car, no, that would – that would taint the evidence. Rolf Magnus: Actually we can compel the DA to consider it, since the car technically belonged to the victim, Lance. Wow actually smart lol

Where is Castle? Oh wait that's him. When did Castle change? Cool guys don't look at explosions

Love the heist comp XD. & they call him el jeffe XD I love the triframe but castle is conspicuous Lol always check, esp if you don't want to create a distraction Now get gone he's only on his way you can still get gone! Pull the fire alarm! Oh good for her lol

KB: You’re telling me that this was handed to you by a concerned citizen? RC: Uh … yes.

KB: And reward you for your []illegal behavior? (she shakes her head) I think not.

& then she livetells him anyway?

They be f*ckin' /j "omg this is not what I expected to be listening to"

yk what trey, that's valid. But also dude maybe ask for help yk what the DA might feel bad for you but also girl go to the authorities at that point maybe except that yk how cops are but at least theyd arrest boothe for conspiracy to commit murder

What did the blood bone marrow donor have to do with all of this?

he's your real dad & blood bone tests showed that?

ryan weird with the vest half open tbh

Ohhhh his son that's how this was involved!

WOAH THE JEWELRY WIRE IS THE SAME!?!? I don't think Lance was trying to ruin things, just trying to build a connection with a kid he's met a few times, his friend's kid, who just so hapens to be HIS kid.

Gates said good job to castle XD!

RC: I was just going to suggest the exact same thing. We’re starting to think alike now! As if they haven't been doing this since s1 XD KB: (laughing) That is horrifying. Okay, go cue up the movie, open up a bottle of wine. I’ll be home in a bit. I’ve just got a stop to make first. (& make popcorn!) RC: Well, if I’m thinking what you’re thinking and it’s to pick up a sexy archaeologist costume, don’t worry. (he drops his voice to a whisper) I’ve already got the whip. KB: *surprised pikachu*

but girl that's nice wood! & that is too good of a carving tbh

cinematic <3

Mkay so it's 17 & I started watching at 13.30 so that's 4.5 hours & 3 hours is already double my allotted time this was triple my alotted time which means it took me sextuple times the episode... then again a lot of it WAS spent trying to upload stuff to tumblr, at least 30m.

#castle 7x9 #the action movie episode #castle 7x9 spoilers #castle 7x9 quote

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doc-hudson · 1 year

Text

Not a racer!

Alternative title: Cruz Ramirez and Doc Hudson try and fail at acting normal

Dated: November 18, 2022

Doc Hudson

As much as Doc hated the occasion, he couldn’t deny that there was some nostalgic charm to some little details of it all, specially the closer one got to the refreshments tent, where competitors, trainers and apparently, sponsors (judging by Simba’s presence) moved around.

Shit, he should be getting away from this things, not getting closer to them, and yet…

Maybe he still had time to get away.

And so, he decided to take a step back -accidentally crashing into a kid.

“Shoot- sorry, champ” he said, making a mental note about not cursing during a family-oriented event “didn’t see you there”

Cruz Ramirez

Cruz had not slept in...!! Well the number of days didn't matter at this point, the hat man could jump out at her at any minute and she would probably smile, wave, and ask if he was having a great time. She knew she was! Even though the set up had been sort of brutal, mostly due to it being so freaking cold!!, and there had been various hitches along the way, seeing it all put together? Mind boggling. Seeing people were actually competing and here to have a good time? Amazing! Incredible! She couldn't quite believe it!! She was seriously going to have to owe her first born to Coach Triton for getting all of this to happen.

She had just stepped away from trying to hype Jae, one of the uni students in the program, up for the race, thinking about pouring some water over her face for a wake up call when someone bumped into her. "Oop! No, you're okay! Totally my bad," she apologized, then grinned at the guy. Who she...thought looked kinda familiar. He probably was related to one of the competitors or something. Uh, oh. And he had called her champ which meant they had probably met before. Well shit! "It's good to see you out here! Are you excited?"

Doc Hudson

‘It’s good to see you out here’ the kid said.

Shit, was he supposed to know her? Shit- maybe they’d met somewhere before? That was unlikely, him being new around and all.

Did she know-? No, she possibly couldn’t. She must be overly familiar with people. Was that a British thing he didn’t know about? God, he wanted for that to be a British thing he didn’t know about and to be able to stop worrying.

“No, no, I wasn’t lookin’ , ‘s totally my bad ” he insisted, with the tight-lipped smile of someone that would rather run away from the interaction, but couldn’t risk outting himself or hurting a kid’s feelings “I’m...I guess, yeah. My godson of sorts is thrilled by this all and I figured I'd give it a chance -how about you? You competin’?”

Cruz Ramirez

Godson! Okay! Cruz looked out over the racers.

...

AGH!!! That didn't help her at all! That could literally be any he/him out here since this guy didn't have to be related to them to have gotten that title. So she just smiled and nodded, like she totally knew what who he was talking about and like she'd TOTALLY looked over at them in acknowledgement instead of the cursory glance. "Me? Oh, pft, no. I mean, I know it's for charity and everything but I'd rather be on the sidelines in case someone needs me. You know. Just a trainer! Not a racer." Cruz swallowed, unable to tell whether it was getting easier to say that or harder these days. "But yeah! It should be fun! Swynlake's first Magick Grand Prix! I never thought I would see the day."

Doc Hudson

Oh, ok. Ok, judging by the kid’s expression she actually had no idea who he was talking about-

-and, well, he’d been telling somewhat of a lie, so it wasn’t her fault.

“About eh tall, dark hair, loud as all hell? His name’s King” he explained, posture a bit more relaxed now that they were getting over the confusion “We’re new around so…”

No need to feel guilty if she didn’t recognize them, that was for the best.

“Trainers are important too” he added, tilting his head slightly at the discreet change on the girl’s demeanor -she’d been so hyped just a second ago but now… “Without people like you there wouldn’t be much of anythin’ to see, you know?”

Without guidance folks might as well be running wildly in circles, just because. And that’s what he wanted to say before he was distracted by a pang of the nervousness from a moment ago.

“Yeah… who would have thought? It’s thrilling”

Cruz Ramirez

King. Yeah, okay, Cruz didn't know who the heck that was, and with a name like that she was pretty sure she would have remembered. So, phew! At least she hadn't totally forgotten someone. But then...hm! Why did this guy look kinda familiar? And that feeling didn't go away as soon as she realized that they had probably never met before. Especially if he and his godson (of sorts) were new to Swynlake. ...weird!

"Thanks," she said with a little smile, not wanting to dwell on that sort of thing. Both because she hated pity as much as the next guy and because this wasn't about her. It was about the race! The people competing, about getting the name out there and for more people to see how much fun it was! Then maybe more uni kids with magic would be persuaded to come join the team and PrideU would start seeing some traction with it.

Cruz brightened, whatever sarcasm or attitude being used going right over her head, "I know, right? It is thrilling! When I was a kid I never thought I would see something like this. Even in a town like Swynlake. It's super awesome! All the kids I coach have been so stoked about finally getting to see a race for themselves.

Doc Hudson

Shit.

Shit, the kid was seriously excited by the event and there was no way in hell Paul would actively try to ruin the moment for others (twitter incident aside).

He’d been just like her, once, and knew full well that he would have been over the moon if any kind of Grand Prix related competition had been able to happen back in his hometown -hell, she couldn’t possibly be older than he was back when he’d joined his first ragtag team and had to juggle two jobs in order to save up for the travel to Thomasville and-

-it was then his side started hurting, making him bite on his lower lip and try to nod along, as not to bother the kid.

“ ‘s nice to have a chance, yeah” he said, trying to power through the pain that was sure to fade away as soon as he relaxed “But, again, without folks like you they wouldn’t really know where to begin. Give yourself some credit-”

He paused, creating a beat on the conversation for the other to introduce herself.

Cruz Ramirez

It didn’t register that the guy was trying to get her name, just that he was trying to flatter her for??? Some reason. She was usually pretty good about taking compliments but for stuff like this it just never sat well with her because she didn’t feel like she deserved it yet. Not until someone she had trained was making their way to the big leagues! Until they were on the podium, lifting a trophy or flowers or their team had covered them in either a big cooler of gatorade or shot champagne on them. Either way, they would be sticky.

…whaaat had this train of thought turned into…. Uhh

She blinked, remembering she was talking to someone.

“And without fans like you, who support the people competing, it wouldn’t be half as much fun!” she quickly spit out, trying to make up for the weird silence that sat there as she pondered. “Have you ever seen a race before? Or is this your first one?”

Doc Hudson

Kid seemed to be a space case, which was...actually pretty good news to Paul, who relaxed little by little now that his paranoia seemed to be unjustified.

“Ah, yeah...I’m not...big into the whole thing” he lied, looking away as he did so “the godson ‘s the one that loves the thing and dragged me all the way here, you know how that goes. I’m not sure if he’ll be joinin’…”

Maybe that’d be a good way for King to burn some energies.

But the prospect didn’t feel quite right -the mere idea of it felt like becoming a stage-dad, like opening the cursed possibility of him, directly or indirectly, forcing the kid to live up to his own dreams.

It felt wrong. Sure, if King wanted to join he’d root for him, maybe try to teach him the ropes, but…

“Mnope, we don’t know the first thing ‘bout it” he continued lying, avoiding the kid’s gaze just in case she somehow managed to notice his bullshit “I’m just here for the snacks, the kid and I’m bettin’ some money on a kid named Milo winnin’, you know”

That last part was mostly a joke. Mostly.

“Care to educate this ol’ man?”

Cruz Ramirez

Yeah, that made sense. Even living in a place like Swynlake finding someone who knew what the Magick Grand Prix was wasn’t the easiest, and finding someone as knowledgeable (obsessed) with it as her was pretty impossible. So she didn’t think much of his answer, other than that it was consistent with just about everyone else’s.

“Uh, kind of! I’ve definitely never set one up before,” she said with a sort of exasperated laugh to punctuate it. She had been to a race and she had been to try outs, but she had never actually raced herself. Duh. How could she? She wasn’t good enough to. “Hopefully it’s fun! I tried to bring in what I could, but it’s not like we had the time and budget to build something professional. But I think it came together!

Doc Hudson

“Settin’ up somethin’ ‘s completely different from just watchin’, you know” he said, gaze returning to the kid now that he didn’t feel compelled to lie through his teeth “I think you guys did amazin’”

He knew Smokey would be proud of what they had achieved in such a short notice and with, apparently, an extremely limited budget.

But he wouldn’t further elaborate, not he was supposed to not know a thing about anything Grand Prix.

“ ‘s not about how it looks, I think. ’s about what you make of it and folks havin’ fun” Paul shrugged “not everyone starts with top-of-the-art stuff -sometimes starting with the most basic of basics ‘s the best option, it teaches you how to adapt, to improvise”

Oh, if he had a dime for every person that complained about common rocks during events…! He’d probably be as rich as old MacTunnag.

Cruz Ramirez

Oh, great. Here came along another….older….person about to tell her about how technology wasn’t all that. Just like Mr. McQueen! Didn’t they know that it totally was? Like, sure, this course was fine, but wasn’t great! If they had the technology, they could have had material that looked good, that made people feel like they were watching something at least semi-professional. Not that it looked terrible, but it wasn’t necessarily pristine.

She didn’t get why technology was so bad! It helped people a lot, made things accessible and pretty!

“Maybe, but hopefully we won’t have to stay this way. If people like what they see, especially the ones who actually have money to throw around, then we might make a name for ourselves!” she said. “It might not be about looks for having fun, but I’m trying to get sponsors for the kids I coach and you know how rich people are. They want the looks, too. It’s how they sell their image.”

Doc Hudson

“Hopefully” he nodded, even if the rational part of his mind wanted the exact opposite, for the whole thing to be forgotten and for Swynlake to return to the charming countryside experience he’d been searching for instead of...constant stress.

But the kid looked so happy about it all, even if it wasn’t the fanciest of courses or events that, hell, some of cheerfulness kind of rub off on him.

Kind of. There was no changing the past, but her apparent innocent interest on it all kind of...remembered him of simpler times, of when he’d been the one getting excited by the mere idea of the Grand Prix.

“Rich people don’t know a thing, don’t sweat it, kid”

Shit, no, no. Backtrack, backtrack-!

“I mean...they are too quick to judge, you know? They’re only interested on…” he moved his hands, as if holding something “the true and tried instead of the slightly unconventional or the new. They think with their wallets ‘nstead of their hearts...or heads”

Shit, he needed to relax, he wasn’t supposed to know a thing about it all.

But, damn, did he hate some sponsors and could not keep silent about it.

Cruz Ramirez

Excited to hear someone share her opinions of stuff it didn't even occur to her how he sounded so knowledgeable about it all! After this she might just chalk it up to him knowing about how other sports worked or, you know, he was olllldddd...er! Older. Mhmm. And had more life experience.

"Yeah! I mean, I know, but it's also like a game in itself, right? You gotta play by their rules in order to get their money so you can compete. They only like certain looks, they only like certain types of magic, blah blah blah, and the only time they're going to take a chance on anyone is if they know they'll win. So in order for my kids to get what they need, I want them to have every opportunity to be the best they can. Hence why I think we will still need to have a bit more than fun on our side!" Then giggled. "Because we do have fun! Hopefully your er- King, right? Hopefully he'll have fun. And you, too! Watching can be fun, not just nerve wrecking, I promise."

Doc Hudson

Paul rolled his eyes.

“The greats didn’t have sponsors from the get-go” he snorted, not bothered by the kid per-se but by the ideas that had been hammered into her, the...learned helplessness the younger generations had been forced into “Take Louise Barnstormer, for example”

Was he, as kids put it, simping for his ex?

You bet he was.

“She didn’t have any sponsors during her first whole year on the Prix and even had to steal a number to get into the main event” oh, he was getting fired up “sure, it wasn’t an easy road, nor was it pleasant, but she made do regardless of what the bigwigs at Lunaco or Golden Falcon believed and became an all-time star anyways”

No, no, he had to relax- he had to.

“Or, like...Junior Moon? Man’s first races where in bumfuck middle-of-nowhere, no fancy equipment or sponsorships from the get go- hell, people doubted him even after he’d won time after time just ‘cause he wasn’t the right type of Magick or some...stupid bull like that. And he became a legend still”

No thanks to any sponsors, but hard work.

“I just...where there’s a will, there’s a way, you know? And I know it sounds easier said than done, but…” he sighed “and...I’m glad you have such a positive outlook towards this sorta stuff, just...don’t let others tell you what you, or your trainees, are worth, ok? ‘cause it’s you who decides that, not some statistics, the things you can afford or what others say”

So much for not nothing shit about the Prix, eh?.

#A story for another rainy day #c: Cruz

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sometimesrosy · 2 years

Note

who are ur least favorite characters on stranger things ? 👀

Least favorite? You know what? That's a tough one because I think they do characters very well.

I don't think this last season served Mike, Will or Jonathan well. Doesn't mean I don't like them, but they slipped on my list. They were removed from the main story, but not just in a narrative way. They were like in suspended animation, waiting to start their lives again.

Argyle was a bit dopey although I really wanted to love him at the beginning. I think they do have a tendency to go over board with the comic relief characters sometimes.

I suppose I don't love Erica, mainly because she's bratty and mean to Lucas, but she's also a powerhouse and I have to give her points for her character. She's not a bad character she's just a bit too Dee from What's Happening. (dating myself)

I did NOT like Jason Carver-- the jock who went DnD nerd hunting. You weren't supposed to like him, but he was a pretty one note villain. Not that unrealistic, sadly, in this day and age where people decide others are evil because they're different. He had an ending that not one person protested because he got what he deserved.

001/Henry was creepy AF. When he was the orderly I thought something was wrong. When he was the little boy, yipes. I'm not even counting the monster part.

I didn't like Doctor Brenner/Papa. He was a bad Papa. What he did was horrific and he didn't think he was doing anything wrong. It was all justified in his head.

Those are all bad guys. Does that even count?

Oh I HATED Billy. What an awful character. And he looks like Rob Lowe looked back then. So pretty. And that was part of his character. But he's not even IN this season. Although he's still affecting Max and is pretty much her trauma that made her vulnerable to Vecna.

The characters I didn't like are pretty much all limited to bad guys. The good guys I don't love I still like. And I'm supposed to not like the bad guys.

I am okay with this. I'm tired of shows making the bad guys into gray morality hot guys that are just so interesting that you like them against your will.

Like, bullshit. Donald Trump is a bad guy and he's not interesting or charming. Ted Cruz? Bad guy. Repulsive. Lets look at the better looking ones. Cawthorne (Hawthorne? What's his name?) He's an ASSHOLE.

I think we should stop perpetrating the myth that bad guys are compelling and charming and romantic and go back to them being assholes that we hate.

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new-to-this123 · 3 years

Text

Monty’s Revenge

As per requested

May I please request a monty x girlfriend reader? where she was raped too and he does everything he can for her and ruins Bryce.. lots of fluff and smut

(I know the request asks for smut, but the direction I took this story, smut didn't fit. When you read it, you'll see why but I hope you'll still like it though)

Monty X reader

warning: swearing, drug use, alcohol, mention and details of rape, fighting

word count: 2061

NOTES: I haven't posted in a LOOOOONG time. Now that I'm done with school I definitely have more time so I'm hoping to get all my requests caught up! I hope you guys like this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N journal entry

August 27th 2016

Tonight Kat is hosting a party at her neighbors house. Kats parties are always a good time. Maybe I can get Monty to notice me tonight, who knows, I know people say he's troubled but there's something about him that i just love.

Anyways i guess i'll let you know how this party goes.

August 28th 2016

Well lets just say that yesterday didn't go as planned but it was a goodnight!

I don't remember anything from the party. The only thing I remember is talking with Monty, and Bryce outside of Hannah's house. I was very drunk and so was monty. I woke up in the clubhouse with monty. We both don't know if we slept together, but I think we may have. The signs were all there, I have a few hickeys on my neck, and there's definitely cum in my panties.

Monty and I hung out all afternoon, then he drove me home.

Monty kissed me before I left and said he can't wait to see me at school tomorrow!

I'm so happy!

Present day (March 2018)

Y/N was sitting at the lunch table with her boyfriend Monty when Jessica, Clay and Justin show up and sit.

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jessica asked

“Why?” Y/N asked, since Jessica never really talked to her.

“It has to do with the trials” Justin added.

“Look Y/N has nothing to do with that so leave her out of it” Monty said defensively placing his hand on Y/N’s lap.

Jessica looks over at Clay and Justin, and takes a deep breath.

“Y/N there's something i need to show you and it's not easy.”

“ok ……. So show me”

“Not here Y/N” Clay adds

“Why not? Anything you have to tell me you can tell Monty!”

Jessica slides over two pictures.

Y/N looks down at the first one and ,in the corner, she sees Monty passed out on a chair, and in the middle is a naked and passed out Y/N.

In the second one, Bryce is taking a selfie of him raping Y/N.

“Where the fuck did you get these?” Monty yelled, grabbing both pictures.

“When were they taken? How did you get these?” Y/N asked with tears filling her eyes.

“There's a box full of them. But i can't tell you when it was.” jessica replied

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us when this happened.” Justin added

“I mean, i.. I don't know, i can't think of a time that i was left alone with Bryce in the clubhouse, Monty has never let that happen.” Y/N replies.

Jessica, Justin and Clay look over at Monty.

“Don't fucking look at me! I didn't let this happen!! Im gonna fucking kill him.” Monty said aggressively.

“NO! Let me go talk to Bryce.. ALONE” Y/N said looking at all four of her peers.

“I want answers and he's the only one who can give them to me.”

“No way Y/N!” Monty said

“Are you insane?” Clay added

Y/Ns Texts

Y/N: Hey Bryce, wanna grab a coffee at monets after school?

Bryce: why? Sick and tired of De La Cruz? Never thought you’d last this long anyways.

Y/N: urg meet me there at 3

“There meeting with him after school, if you don't want me alone you guys can sit at the back of monet's” Y/N said standing up, grabbing the pictures from Monty and leaving.

“You guys don't come! He’ll know somethings up” Monty said, pointing at Jessica, Justin and Clay.

“Protect her Montgomery” Justin said, looking him right in the eyes.

Monty walked after Y/N.

Y/N walked into Monets and saw Monty in the back with Taylor and Kenneth.

“Urg of course he'd bring his lackeys” Y/N thought to herself as she looked at Taylor and Kenneth.

Y/N orders herself a coffee and sits at a table in the middle of Monets, and waits for Bryce.

At 3;15pm Bryce walked in, went up to the counter, ordered himself a coffee and joined Y/N.

“Sorry I'm late, got caught up with some of the guys.” Bryce said as he sat down.

“All cool” Y/N replied

“So what did you wanna talk about huh? Monty being an ass?” Bryce asked with a big smile on his face.

“No i wanted to ask you when this happened” Y/N said as she slipped him the selfie of Bryce raping her.

The smile on Bryce's face quickly changed to anger. He leaned forward on the table and whispered “where the fuk did you get these?”

“When did it happen Bryce?”

“When do you think?” Bryce scoffed.

“ I don't know, that's why i'm asking you?”

“Just know that you wanted it. You were moaning my name the whole time.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and asked Bryce again

“When did it happen?”

“When did you wake up in the clubhouse with Monty alone?” Bryce replied with a smirk on his face.

Y/N’s jaw dropped, and suddenly memories of that night flashed through her head.

Hannah’s Party

Y/N is standing outside, holding a beer, sharing a joint with Monty.

“You know i was telling Bryce on our way here that i hoped you were here tonight.” Monty said as he passed Y/N the joint.

“I was hoping you'd be here too Monty” Y/N replied, taking a hit off the joint and coughing.

“Do we have a newbie here” Bryce said as he walked up and wrapped his arm around Y/N.

“ Yes it is” monty replied laughing.

Y/N walked back into the party and spent all night drinking and smoking with Monty.

Near the end of the night Y/N and Monty were clearly very drunk and high. Y/N was using monty as her support and monty was using Y/N as his.

Bryce walked up to them “lets go kids! let's get you home” he said as he placed himself between the both Y/N and Monty and wrapped his arms around both of their shoulders.

Bryce walked them to his car, he helped Y/N into the front seat and Monty in the back.

As he was getting ready to drive off bryce said “now now don't fucking puke in my car”

“No promises” monty drunkenly said from the back, laying down on the back seat, closing his eyes and passing out.

Bryce placed his hand on Y/N laps. Even in her highly intoxicated state she thought his hand was a little too high up on her thigh and tried to move it.

“Shhh baby it's ok” Bryce said as he smiled and squeezed her thigh a little harder.

They got to the clubhouse and Bryce carried Y/N in and laid her on the couch.

“Monty” was all Y/N could mumble in her intoxicated state.

“He's in the car babygirl. You're ok. I got you.” Bryce said as he started pulling Y/N shirt off.

“No” Y/N tried to mumble and squirm away but Bryce overpowered her and stripped her completely naked.

“I know you want this. Everyone does” Bryce said as he started raping Y/N.

“The night of Hannah's party. You were supposed to drive us home. Instead you went to the club house and staged the whole thing” Y/N replied, tears building up in her eyes.

“Naw! Monty walked in on his own and sat in the chair after I got you undressed. And in casual Monty style he was too drunk to notice anything so when i finished i woke him up and told him he fucked you a while ago but i had to leave because it was late and he told me to leave you guys there. He took the credit and look,here you are two years later, still happily together. So why are you bitching, we all got what we wanted in the end”

Y/N looked at Bryce in disbelief.

“We all got what we wanted?” Y/N asked a tear falling down her cheek.

“You got the guy, he got the girl and I got an easy lay” Bryce smiled as he stood up and left.

“YOU RAPED ME” Y/N yelled as Bryce left Monets and Monty ran to you.

“Baby what did he say?” Monty asked wiping away your tears.

“You walked in when he raped me and you did NOTHING!!!!!!!” Y/N yelled as she pushed monty away running out of Monets.

“Y/N!! BAAAABE! HOLD UP!” monty yelled running after Y/N.

“NO! FUCK OFF MONTY!” Y/N screamed tears pouring down her cheeks.

Monty walked away, angry and heartbroken at what his girlfriend told him. He got to Monets,where his car was parked, and got in and drove towards Bryces house.

He got to Bryces and went straight for the guest house.

“YOU FUCKING SON OF BITCH” Monty yelled punching Bryce in the face.

“What the fuck De La Cruz??” Bryce asked, pissed off.

“You raped my girlfriend!” monty replied.

“She wasn't your girlfriend then and she wanted it! She was moaning my name the whole time” Bryce shot back pushing Monty.

“NO!!! YOU RAPED Y/N!!!!” Monty yelled again, grabbing Bryce by the collar of his shirt.

“Your bitch wanted it! And if it weren't for that night you two wouldn't be together! So shut the fuck up before i beat you like you dad does” Bryce spat at Monty.

In that moment Monty’s mind went black with anger and he jumped on Bryce and started punching him over and over again. Kenneth, Taylor, Marcus and Luke all tried to pull Monty off Bryce to no avail.

“Monty! Stop!” Scott said as he pulled Monty up from the back of his shirt.

“FUCK OFF” Monty yelled pushing scott, who stood his ground and grabbed monty wrists.

“CALM THE FUCK DOWN” scott yelled at Monty, as he pulled him out the guest house, to his car.

“He fucking raped Y/N” Monty told Scott.

“And you fucked him up. Youll be lucky if he doesnt fucking die dude” scott replied.

“Good, he deserves it!” Monty said, getting into the passenger seat of his jeep.

“Y/N’s parents are gone for the week, that's where we're going” Scott said as he got into the driver side and drove off.

“Y/N open up it's me Scott” Scott said knocking and Y/N’s door.

“Oh my god you are an impatient neighbor!” Y/N said as she opened the door.

“OH MY GOD MONTY!!!” she yelled as she saw Monty's black eye and bloody nose.

“You should see Bryce, he looks worse” Monty smiled.

“Ya pretty sure he almost killed him” Scott replied.

“You went after your best friend?” Y/N asked, leading Monty to the bathroom.

“Of course I went after him! He hurt the love of my life, and lied to me about it. He’s lucky I didn't kill him.” Monty smiled.

Y/N wiped the blood of his face and hands.

“I love you Montgomery” Y/N said, bandaging his hands.

“I love you too Y/N” Monty replied kissing the top of Y/Ns head.

“Hey you two im gonna head home i'll see you tomorrow.” Scott said, leaving and heading next door.

“Let's go cuddle and watch a movie” Monty said wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulders

Y/N and Monty ordered a pizza and cuddled for three movies in her bed.

“Y/N…” Monty said moving some hair out of Y/N’s eyes.

“Ya?” Y/N replied butterflies in her stomach.

“I really love you.” Monty said looking into Y/N’s eyes.

“Monty, i can't have sex, i don't know when ill be able to but I'm not comfortable with it right now. After finding out about Bryce, I don't know, i feel different” Y/N said tears building up in her.

“ Hey baby girl, it's ok, I'm here for you no matter what and it doesn't matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you to be ready. I love you and I'm not going anywhere.” Monty replied wiping away Y/Ns tears and bringing her into a hug.

#montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x reader #justin foley #scott reed #bryce walker #marcus cole #jeff atkins #zach dempsey #clay jensen #tony padilla #tyler down #13rw fanfiction #13rw #13 reasons why #13 reasons why imagine #thirteen reasons why

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 3

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warnings: Slight mention of scars

Word Count: 3122 words

Summary: You and Cruz go for a morning swim in the reef

*Cross-posted to ao3*

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

That Friday, you stay up late, not drinking or binging a new Netflix special, but fruitlessly trying to decide between your athletic shorts are your more revealing swim bottoms. In a stroke of genius the only ever occurs to a person late at night, you wear the shorts over your swimsuit, topped off with a swim shirt.

With your water-proof swim bag, you sit at the tidepool and furtively lather your legs in sunscreen, waiting for Cruz.

Cruz swims up to the edge of the tidepool, pulling himself up and over the rocks before motioning you over.

“Okay, the cool stuff is just less than half of a klick away, I’ll be carrying you on my back the whole way, but some of it’s underwater. Would you-” Cruz stammers, “Would you mind if I took you down with me, to see it?”

You feel that involuntary smile creep up on you.

“I would love that.”

--------

It’s an odd sensation, sitting on Cruz’s back. You had worried yourself and all your gear would be too heavy, but Cruz barely seems to notice the extra weight. You're placed on the bottom of his torso, right before it connects into tail, but you can still feel it’s movements as he swims through the water. It feels almost like a python, muscles pulling and contracting, his arms reaching out occasionally for a large stroke to gain a temporary boost of speed. He’s not moving so fast that the wind or splashes of water hit your skin, but you can still feel the waves pushing over your feet and thighs. The view is breathtaking and you have a nice time looking at Cruz’s ripped back as well.

When you see some small rock outcroppings by the shore that Cruz stops and raises his head out of the water, adjusting you on his back like one would carry someone in a piggyback ride. The tips of his claws brush against your thighs. You are for sure blushing.

“We’re here. Do you remember the signals?”

You nod, responding with the Okay hand signal.

Apparently Cruz had self-taught himself scuba-diving signals, although he initially had thought they were limited to human “ocean-spies” trying to steal precious fish from the pod (“That’s what the older kids in my pod told me! Stop laughing!”). You yourself were a certified scuba diver, and had gone many times with your mother during college.

With a nod and a hand motion, you two submerge, a bloom of color all around you.

Your arms lang loosely around Cruz’s shoulders, chest pressed against his backside and legs hiked up around his hips to give him maximum mobility. A particular bright hydrocoral catches your eye amidst the rainbow, your heart leaping at the sight. You point urgently in it's direction, unintentionally clenching your legs in excitement. Cruz’s chest rumbles with a giggle, bubbles popping through his mouth and gills. He shrugs his shoulder to bring your body closer to it.

The purple stretches across the rocks in circular bunches, with the occasional starfish interspersed in between. With a good look, you can see the tiny spines and tiny perforations on it’s surfaces. You tap Cruz’s shoulder and throw your thumb up.

Once out of water and properly breathing, you fingers tap eagerly against Cruz’s shoulder blades.

“Cool, right?”

“Yeah! I’ve never seen that kind of hydrocoral up close before. I’ve heard the California corals were beautiful but wow, those were gorgeous. And that patch was so big, it must be- I don’t even know how old! They grow extremely slow, you see, and because of excess-”” Your eyes glance over your shaky fingers, fidgeting and dancing across Cruz’s as the words fall out of your mouth. You forcibly still them. You gulp. “They don’t have those where I’m from. Sorry, I talk too much.” You force out a giggle.

You peel your fingertips away from Cruz, picking at your fingernails as your neck tints red. The heat makes you pull your arms into yourself and away from Cruz’s slick skin. Your thighs lock tight around his waist to stay on.

“Does it have a name?”

“They just call it California Purple Hydrocoral, since it’s so localized. Nothing too fancy, even though it’s so unique.” Typically, to calm yourself down, you fiddle with your clothing or whatever you have your hand on. With Cruz’s body so close by, your first compulsion is to trace shape alongside his back, map the muscle and bone’s topography. But just the idea of such intimacy sends your head in a swirl.”

“What makes them so unique? Just where they live?” Cruz playfully scoffs, “Because I’ve lived in one area for years and you don’t see me getting any trophies.” You chuckle, Cruz arching his neck to smirk at you.

“Well not not only are they super old, but most corals lose their color when they die and California Purple Hydrocorals don’t. The pigment is so deeply embedded in their skeleton, it remains even after they’re gone.” You float your eyes downwards towards the sea, in the direction where you get merely a glimpse of the bright purple mass. “It’s kind of their legacy, hence the name. That color is so intrinsic to what they are, not even death or time could take it from them.”

The water is cool and the sun is hot, beating down at the exposed skin on your neck and back while your feet mindlessly kick back and forth. Cruz’s muscles shift as he turns his head farther back towards you. Your eyes are lost at sea, caught in the coral possibilities. There’s an absentminded smile on your face. It brings one to his.

“You’re really fun to talk to, ____.”

You’re snapped back into reality, eyes yanked out of the water and back to Cruz’s own. The inky black stares back, serious and focused.

“Wow, thank you. That’s very sweet of you to say Cruz.”

You avert your eyes in a polite gesture, rubbing the back of your neck. Cruz keeps staring. You can feel it tingling across your cheeks.

“I mean it. You’re really smart.”

“Oh, well, I just study a lot-”

“And-and you shouldn’t have to apologize when you get, y’know, into it.”

Cruz looks away, jaw clenched. “Not to anybody. Not to me, especially not to me, because you’re so-so….” He struggles with his words, chin shaking with unreleased energy, “You love it so much and that’s-you should be able to talk about it whenever. Because it makes you happy and any assholes out there shouldn’t ruin that for you, and I-” His chest heaves as he stutters, blue flushing his skin, “I-I like it, when you’re happy, I mean.” Cruz’s breaths are short and quick, his cerulean blush painting the back of his neck and crawling up to his ears. “Does that make sense?”

Words escape you at this moment, like Cruz sucked up all the energy in the moment. In a good way, he’s pulled the rug out from under you. Your eyes wander, brain turning over his words.

But Cruz can’t hear your inner thoughts, he can only feel your still muscles and the lull in the conversation.

“I-Shit, I didn’t mean-”

Your body jerks back to life as you lean over Cruz’s shoulder with a quick motion, eyes squinting in the middle distance. Cruz jerks.

“Cruz, submerge real quick!”

“What?”

You jerk your thumb down and shakily put on your goggles and snorkel with one hand. “Quick! It’s going to notice us!”

Cruz, befuddled, tightens his grip on your thighs and submerges. His head swivels back and forth, looking for what has gotten you so fussy. You extend both of your arms, pointing about 10 feet away, to the side of a bunch of coral. You then close your hands horizontally, interlocking your fingers into your signal.

Turtle!

Besides the small rock is a large Leatherback Turtle, blissfully unaware of the two creatures not too far from it, taking a leisurely swim. Your right arm wraps around Cruz’s clavicle as you lean over to get a better look, enchanted by her beautiful shell. Amidst the reef, she looks like a dolled up grandma, wrinkled and taking an afternoon continental in the garden.

Cruz ducks behind another rock as she swims closer, trying not to scare the turtle away. Your arm tightens around his shoulder, eyes never tearing from her.

You don’t notice, but Cruz feels himself falling deeper when he looks at the wonder in your gaze. Never before has he ever felt so jealous of a turtle.

She cruises along, Cruz dodging just out of her sight but close enough to give you a good view, all while giving you a spare breath whenever you gesture. As she swims back towards the open ocean, Cruz takes you both up and out of the water.

You whip off your goggles and snorkel, taking a long breathe in.

“That was- wow, that was incredible.”

“She was so pretty I didn’t think about eating her for like, forty percent of that time.”

You smack Cruz on the shoulder, but it’s light, half-joking, and an unflattering snort leaves you. Cruz shoots you a toothful smirk.

A light sea breeze rolls over you two, abating the hot sun, although just a bit. The water has thoroughly sunk into your swimsuit bottoms, pulling down with extra weight on your lower half, but you’ve never felt lighter.

In the tranquility, you rest your front on Cruz’s back, head now tucked into the nook of his shoulder. The smell of salt and a slight tang of fish immediately washes your nostrils. Cruz’s shoulders and deltoids stiffen for a millisecond and slowly relax in another.

“Hey, Cruz?” You whisper, almost mumble into his skin.

“Y-yeah?”

“Thanks.”

----------

Your muscles slightly ache from the long swim this morning, and boardwalk food is the perfect level of unhealthy to abade it for a bit.

As you walk back to the tidepool, arms cluttered with overpriced boardwalk food, Cruz’s eyes light up. You struggle to sit down easily, but manage to crouch down to Cruz’s level, motoning for him to grab the hotdog from the crook of your elbow.

He does, but Cruz’s eyes are locked on the two Cotton Candies which you hold in a tight grip; The water laps at your ankles and you don’t want the $7 you spent to go to waste.

“Trust me, this will be best after a full meal. Don’t want you getting nauseous.” Cruz lets out a facetious, over-dramatic sigh, but with one bite of a hot dog, his eyes alight once more. He devours the thing quickly, almost with one gulp, whipping his head around to the cotton candy. He wiggles his eyebrows and you sigh, motioning for him to come closer.

Cruz seats himself up on the rock next you, pupils sparkling as you hand him the cotton candy stick. He takes a large bite and is immediately overwhelmed by the sweetness and how quickly the sugar melts in his mouth.

“Is that supposed to happen?”

You chuckle, taking a much tinier bite out of your own cotton candy.

“Yes, it is. It dissolves in liquid, hence the ‘no water’ thing.” Cruz nods, spun sugar strings stuck to his lips as he attacks the cotton candy like a toddler. You smile, taking another bite.

The two of you continue to snack in silence. The end of Cruz’s tail flicks back and forth, stirring tiny ripples in the pool, extremely cute and reminiscent of an excited dog. After licking away the rest of your cotton candy, you lean over to the trash bag to drop off your paper stick. It’s then do you see them.

With your face up close to Cruz’s tail, you notice lines of discoloration, streaks of white, which pepper Cruz’s tail. Your eye catches one, then another, and another. By the time you pull back, you notice quite a few all near his pelvic fins, the tip of a larger one stretching to the bottom side of his tail.

Holy shit. How did I not notice those?

On the side of his tail, three marks stand out to you. Their pink, freshly healed, and rake along his skin for 2 inches.

“Uh, Cruz?”

“Yemf?” He asks, amidst another big bite of cotton candy.

“Did you accidentally cut yourself on some coral?”

About 20 pieces of coral, technically?

Cruz hesitates mid bite, sweet spun sugar and some sort of excuse on the tip of his tongue.

“What do you mean?” Cruz’s voice, same octave, is somehow quieter, devoid of emotion.

“It’s just, you have all these marks on your tail and…” You pull back and turn your back to him. Cruz averts his gaze, but the look he gives his tail is frustrated and simmering. “I got worried, that’s all.”

“They’re nothing, it’s nothing. You wouldn’t understand.” His intonation, like his furrowed brow, bristles with a hostile energy. You turn your whole body towards him, now a bit peeved yourself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I said it’s not a big deal. I just did something stupid, went somewhere I shouldn’t have. That’s it.” Cruz still refuses to meet your gaze, knuckles clenched white around the cotton candy stick. Your eyes dart back to the littered scars.

Who did this to him? Was it those mermaids I saw?

“Does that happen often? Wouldn’t your pod-”

“Can we just fucking drop it? It doesn’t matter anyway.” Cruz bites back, almost a yell but not quite. Your eyebrows furrow.

“Well it matters to me. If you’re getting hurt then-”

“Then what? Why the fuck does it matter if I get a few scrapes now and again, why do you even care, huh?” Cruz’s glare burrows into your skin, you can feel your eyes go wide. Something deep, something heated and bitter, stirs in your gut.“You don’t have to do anything. Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean you have to pretend shit. I’m not so pathetic that you have to force yourself to-”

“Can you stop putting words in my mouth for one fucking minute!” This time, you actually do scream, which echoes off the water and the rocks. Cruz’s eyes widened, stopped in the middle of his tirade. Whatever burns inside boils over, released in hot breathes and the steam under your skin.

“Is it so hard to believe that I might care about you?” Your voice cracks with lost breath and the fast pounding of your heart. You pinch the bridge of your nose and with a deep inhale and exhale, you continue.

“My whole life, people have expected this one thing of me, and I spent so long doing everything I could to be the exact opposite. But I want-” You gesture your hands to yourself and Cruz, “-this. I want to get to know you, I want to hang out and eat expensive seafood and talk about bullshit! But I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me.” You take a deep breath, Cruz not even taking the moment to jump in. “And I get that it’s hard, that we don’t know each other yet. But I want to trust you. I want you to trust me.”

A wave breaks against a rock, the noises drowned out in the chasm of Cruz’s gaze and the beating of your heart. You can’t read the emotions on his face, what with a thousand thoughts flitting across it and the emotion welling in your eyes. The smell of brine seeps into your skin. You tuck your hands into your elbows, hoping that will stop their shaking.

“I just-”

“I-”

You both pause, caught in the middle of your thoughts. Cruz sputters.

“Sorry, I interrupted you, you can go.”

“No, no you can go.”

There’s another pause, each of you waiting for the other to go. Cruz finally steps up.

“I’m sorry for accusing you. I was making assumptions and-, and that’s not fair to you.” He expounds in one quick breathem sucking another in before continuing. “Since we met I’ve been….going through some stuff and I think I wanted to let it out. But I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have, not on you, not for shit that’s not even remotely your fault, damn it.” Cruz laments, pressing his face into his hands. He takes a deep breath in, then out, and pulls his hands away. “I’m sorry.” He sighs again, scratching nervously behind his ears.

You let the sentence hang in the air a bit, trying to consolidate your mind and think hard about what to say. It’s far from easy, trying to find the words and express them properly. But it feels good. It feels right, cathartic almost.

“Thank you. And you don’t have to tell me everything if you don’t want to. We can take our time with all….this.” You untuck your hands and wave towards the air. Cruz laughs and this time, it actually settles the butterflies in your stomach. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, whether to talk it out or even distract for a bit.”

Cruz hums in agreement, rubbing his fingers over his knuckles.

“Thanks, for that. And I-I’ll be here for you too, i-if you need it. I mean, you know where to find me.” You giggle, a bubble of exhaustion popping out of your mouth as Cruz joins you. You feel infinitely lighter. A wave brushes against your ankle, the ocean slowly eroding the thick stress in the air.

Cruz and you stand about 1 foot apart from each other, your leftovers discarded in the plastic bag by your side. Cruz fidgets with his fingers some more, eyes glancing back and forth between you and the rocks.

“Can I….Can I hold your hand?” Cruz murmurs.

You don’t respond, just nodding and lifting out your hand. Cruz slips his in.

His skin is damp, slightly cold, and he relishes in the heat of your palm. His fingers dwarf yours as they intertwine, his long claws just barely grazing your skin, careful not to actually cut the back of your hand. You brush your thumb over his knuckles and up his palm. His hands are soft, although his palms are dotted by small calluses. Cruz scoots closer to you, both of you looking out at the ocean. With a full belly and your muscles still quite sore, you rest your head on Cruz’s shoulder. You feel his muscles tense to jerk away, but they forcibly relax as he grips your palm tight. You rub his knuckles once more.

It may not be much, but it’s a start. And you think you quite like where it is heading.

#my writing #monster romance #shark merman #monster x reader #merman x reader #shark merman x reader #monster/reader #reader insert

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petersasteria · 3 years

Text

For Charity Purposes - Harry Holland

Harry || Main || Taglist

Requested? Nah. 1,392 words Y/C = Your Country

* * * *

Tom couldn’t believe his eyes when he read an email from your team. He was a fan of yours and he admires the work that you do. He followed you on every social media platform and he was happy that you were happy doing your job as the current Miss Universe.

Upon reading your email, Tom called Harry from his room and Harry came rushing in. “What?!” Harry panicked.

“Y/N, our current Miss Universe, just emailed me. Well, us. She emailed us.” Tom rambled and Harry nodded. Unbeknownst to Tom, Harry also liked you. So hearing his brother telling him about you emailing him made him a little bit jealous. He shook it off, though. He didn’t want some silly fight.

“What did she say?” Harry asked. He was nervous for some reason. After all, it’s not everyday that they get an email from you.

“She’s asking if we could meet and collaborate for a charity. I think it’s a wonderful idea, don’t you think?” Tom asked and Harry nodded. Harry checked his phone’s calendar and said, “We’re free for, like, two weeks. Just email her your number and tell her that we’re free for two weeks and that she should just call you in her free time.”

Tom nodded and replied to your email with Harry standing behind him. Harry corrected a few words before Tom clicked ‘send’. The two of them go on with their day until Tom gets a call from an unknown number two days later.

“Hello?” Tom answered warily, interrupting his peaceful breakfast with his brothers. After all, it could be anyone.

“Hi! May I please speak to Mr. Holland?” Your assistant asked nicely.

“Who is this?” Tom asked, earning a look from Harry and Sam. “Hang up if you don’t know them.” Sam whispered jokingly as Tom glared at him and shook his head.

“I’m Allie Cruz, Ms. Y/L/N’s personal assistant and I’m calling about the Brothers Trust collaboration.”

Tom’s eyes widened and mouthed to his brothers, “It’s Y/N’s assistant.” Harry and Sam’s jaws dropped.

“Yes, this is Tom speaking.” Tom said.

“Mr. Holland, I have Ms. Y/N on the phone for you and she would like to speak to you about the collaboration.” Allie said. “When are you available to speak to her?”

“N-Now, actually.” Tom said, standing up from his seat and walking to his room.

“Wonderful! I’ll transfer the call to her.” Allie said sweetly before transferring the call to you. Your phone rang and you answered it immediately, “Hello, this is Y/N.”

“Hi, it’s Tom!” Tom exclaimed.

“Oh, hi! Yes, I really want to collab with you, guys! I’m a huge fan of all of you.” You told him in all honesty.

“We’re huge fans of YOU. You’re amazing and we love the work that you do and it means so much to us that you want to work with us.” Tom said.

You smiled, “Same here! I was thinking we could do a film viewing and the money goes to a foundation in my country.”

“I love that! I was thinking we could view my mate’s movie… if that’s alright with you.” Tom suggested.

“Sure! What is it?” You asked.

“168 Hours.” Tom answered.

“Oh! I haven’t watched it yet, so that’s wonderful!” You smiled. Both of you discussed everything before you ended the call. Tom walked back to the dining area with a big smile on his face before explaining everything to his brothers.

It was now the day of the film viewing and you were live streaming the movie on YouTube and a lot of people were donating before it even started. It was just the countdown and you arrived at Tom’s house to watch the movie together.

Of course, safety protocols were followed.

You and Tom sat across from each other and smiled at the camera when the countdown was over.

“Hi! I’m Y/N and this is Tom.” You introduced and Tom waved. “We would like to thank you all for watching 168 Hours with us.”

“All proceeds will go to (Your/Chosen/Charity) in Y/C. So sit back, relax, and enjoy this movie with us.” Tom smiled.

The movie started and you and Tom were free to do whatever you want. You sat comfortably on your chair and paid attention to the movie. You and Tom occasionally conversed, but he was too nervous to actually keep the conversation going.

Harry used his brother’s weakness as his edge. Despite being nervous by simply being in your presence, he gathered up courage to grab a chair to sit next to you.

“Hi.” Harry whispered.

You glanced at him and smiled, “Hello. You’re Harry. I love your pictures.”

He blushed and looked away for a second. A million thoughts were running through his head, but the main thought that ran in his mind was the fact that at some point in your busy life, you had the time to look through his pictures and remember him. It was sweet and it made him happy.

“Thank you.” He finally replied and you grinned.

“You’re welcome.” You said before paying attention to the screen. Both of you didn’t say anything for a while when an idea crossed your mind. You bit your lip and said, “Can you teach me sometime?”

Harry’s head fully turned to you and his eyes were wide. You were nervous, but you did a great job at hiding it. Harry blinked a few times and smiled, “Sure, and um, I hope I could take your pictures someday.”

“Really?” You smirked.

“Um,” Harry faked a cough, “For charity purposes… obviously.”

“Right, right.” You nodded along with a teasing grin. “For charity. Since it’s for charity, I’ll go for it. Name a time and place and I’ll be there.”

“Great! So, can I get your number?” Harry asked, a sudden wave of confidence coming over him.

“Let me guess. For charity purposes?” You joked, but he had a serious look on his face.

“That’s a plus, actually. But I want to take you on a date, if that’s alright.” He shrugged and you nodded.

“Okay.” You smiled. “I’ll go out with you.”

He smiled and handed you his phone after unlocking it. You quickly typed in your number and even took a selfie on his phone as your contact picture. You gave it back to him.

“I’ll be looking forward to that date.” You winked before watching the movie again, leaving Harry all smiley and excited.

The movie ended and you were saying goodbye to everyone and thanking them for having you. You were adjusting the crown on your head when Allie told you that they wanted a picture with you before leaving.

You smiled and posed for pictures with Tom and his brothers. They were really happy and they enjoyed your presence. In fact, they would consider their house blessed. You took selfies with each one of them and Harry was the last.

He normally didn’t take selfies or anything, but he wanted to change his lockscreen wallpaper.

After taking a few selfies with Harry, you told him, “It was nice meeting you, Harry.”

“It was nice meeting you too.” He smiled.

“Oh, before I leave, I was wondering if you’re interested in traveling the world with me? Y'know, to take pictures and make videos of everything so that when the time of giving the crown to the next Miss Universe comes, I have a video to submit for the montage.”

“So… for Miss Universe purposes?” He playfully asked and you laughed, nodding your head.

“Strictly for that purpose.” You said in a pretend serious voice.

“Okay, then. I’ll let you know.” Harry said with a small smirk on his face.

“Yes, please. The previous guy just resigned so yeah.” You told him. Allie called out for you because it was time to leave. She walked out first and you turned to Harry, “Text me?”

“Of course.” Harry assured. “Now, go. I think you have places to be.”

You smiled and quickly followed Allie while putting your mask on. When you got inside the car, your phone buzzed and it was a text from an unknown number, but you knew who it was.

Hey! Thank you for coming today. ‘Til the next charity event HAHAHA! Anyway, how about that date? x

* * * *

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thatforgottenangel @turtoix @givebuckyhisplumsnow @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @euphorichxlland @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @more-like-reyna @aayaissaa @sunwardsss

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @alinastarkrovs @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg @emmastarz @moonchild-s-blog

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n #harry holland one shots #harry holland imagines #petersasteria

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wellimaginethat · 3 years

Text

Helpless

Pairing: Kelly Severide x (female) Reader

Requested?: Yes

Word Count: 2114

Author’s Note: So I’m pretty proud of this, given that it is the first thing I’ve written after everything’s happened. I’m not sure if it’s exactly what the requester wanted, but I hope everyone likes it nonetheless.

Trigger Warning(s): Severe injury, hospital stay, mention of needles/IV, life or death situation, drama, cheesy fluff

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Y/N runs in to a burning house to save a child but ends up getting hurt herself, leading Kelly to worry

Y/N = Your Name

Y/EC = Your Eye Color

It all happened so fast. One minute you were there next to him, the next you were running towards the building, screaming that you saw a kid still inside.

You weren’t wrong.

You managed to save the kid no problem, but sustained pretty bad wounds yourself.

Kelly couldn’t believe it. His blood ran cold when he got in the house and found you and the kid. Cruz got the kid and Kelly picked you up, running you to the ambo.

He felt helpless as he watched them intubate you, trying to keep you alive until they got you to the hospital.

The ride to the hospital felt like it took forever and he couldn’t shake the feeling deep in his bones. He was terrified that you were about to leave him forever and there was nothing he could do.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like there as a weight on his chest that he couldn’t get rid of no matter what.

When they finally got to the hospital and started wheeling you in, he was running alongside them into the ED, and he had to be pulled back to stop him from following the doctors.

~~~~~

The wait was excruciating. He couldn’t stop himself from passing back and forth. The rest of 51 got there not long after and they were all waiting in the waiting room for news on you, watching as their friend paced back and forth. They could all see how much pain he was in.

Although the two of you hadn’t made it public or told anyone yet, they all knew that Kelly loved you and that you loved him. Even if none of them knew the two of you were already together, they knew you should be, and they knew that if you died, it would kill Kelly.

All anyone could do was hope and pray that you would be okay.

No one said anything. It was so quiet that it seemed almost eerie to Kelly, given that they were in a hospital. Or maybe it just seemed quiet to him because his thoughts were so loud.

It felt like an eternity passed by, his entire body felt worn down and heavy but he couldn’t stop pacing until his eyes landed on Will Halstead.

The minute they locked eyes, he knew it wasn’t good.

“Tell me she’s not gone.” Kelly heard his voice, but it didn’t feel like he was speaking, he didn’t know where the words came from.

“She’s not, we were able to stabilize her, but it doesn’t look good.” Will told him carefully. Kelly could tell this was hurting Will, given that the two of you were friends.

Kelly swallowed hard and shut his eyes for a moment. “Can I see her?” He opened his eyes and saw Will nod.

“I’ll show you to her room.”

The minute Kelly walked into the room, he went straight to your bedside and carefully picked up your hand. You were hooked up to all sorts of wiring and machines, an IV was sticking out of one arm and there was a breathing tube helping you breathe. You looked so fragile there.

Kelly dropped to his knees next to your bedside, still holding your hand. “Please don’t leave me.” He begged quietly as everything finally caught up to him, tears finally springing to his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. Please don’t leave me.” All he wanted was to hear your voice telling him that everything was okay, telling him to get you out of this damn place and take you home.

After some time, he couldn’t tell you how long exactly, his knees began to hurt and he forced himself up and to the chair, bringing it closer so he could still hold your hand and rub gentle circles on the back of it, he didn’t know when but he had stopped crying at some point. Everything hurt but he wasn’t about to leave your side.

Suddenly the machine that was monitoring your heart started going off like crazy and his head shot up to look at it.

Within seconds the room was flooded with doctors and nurses and he was pushing himself and the chair out of the way without even thinking about it, just wanting to be out of their way so they could save you. All he wanted was for you to survive and be okay.

Next thing he knew he was being ushered out of the room. He stood in the hall for a moment before he began to walk back to the waiting room as if on autopilot.

Everyone looked up at him and he was at a loss, not knowing what to tell them because he didn’t know if you were okay or not. Without thinking he turned and began walking out of the hospital.

He hadn’t noticed that Casey was following him, because he was still running on what felt like autopilot.

Kelly eventually sat on a bench, and after Casey sat next to him, he laughed. It wasn’t a happy or even an amused laugh, it was a borderline manic laugh except it was brief, sudden, and then replaced by silence.

It worried Casey for a split second as he looked over at his friend.

“I feel like such a cliche right now.” Kelly told him, his voice a hollow rasp from holding back his emotions. “The woman I love is in a hospital room fighting for her life after pulling a heroic stunt and I feel like I can’t function, like I’m running on autopilot or like I’m just watching everything happen.” He looked at Casey then, and his friend could see how Kelly’s eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. “There’s nothing I can do to help her. I feel helpless.”

There were a million things his friend could say, but he didn’t. Instead he put a hand on Kelly’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, remaining silent for a long moment. “You know she’s not going to go down without a fight.” Casey finally spoke, deciding he would try to calm his friend. “She’s too stubborn.”

Kelly couldn’t help but snort. “God, if that isn’t the truth.” He shook his head as he leaned forward and put his face in his hands, he was trying to stay optimistic, you were still alive after all, but it was hard not to let the negative thoughts slip in.

It was silent for a couple minutes before Casey spoke up again.

“So you’re finally able to admit you love her, huh? Does she know?”

Kelly sat up for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. She does, actually.”

Casey would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked to hear that. “You told her?”

Kelly nodded again after a moment. “This morning actually.” He rubbed his face as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “She didn’t say it back.” He added, swallowing hard.

“She was probably just shocked.” Casey tried to reassure.

Kelly nodded a bit. “Yeah.” He forced himself to get up. “Better get back in there in case there’s any news.”

No one said anything when he walked in, and they all tried not to stare as he shuffled in and fell into a chair in the corner of the room.

It was hours before anyone came to tell them anything.

“She’s awake.” As soon as those words left Will’s mouth, Kelly shot out of his seat.

“Can I see her?”

Will hesitated for a moment before nodding. “For a little bit, visiting hours are over and she needs rest.”

Kelly nodded. “I just need to see that she’s alive.” He told him.

Will nodded and led him back to your room, letting Kelly go in by himself and heading off.

Kelly walked in slowly, not sure what he’d be met with, you looked rough earlier but that was before they had to do more work, you could either look worse or better.

You were somewhat sitting up in the bed, you looked like shit and felt even worse.

Kelly walked over. “Hey.” He said softly, carefully picking up your hand.

“Hey.” You replied in a hoarse voice, sounding like you hadn’t used it in years or like you’d gargled with gravel. “I feel like shit.”

Kelly couldn’t help the small, relieved laugh as he shook his head. “I wonder why.”

You smiled tiredly. “I feel like a house fell on me.”

“Well, not quite a whole house, only the first floor ceiling.” Kelly told you in a teasing tone, but his eyes said something completely different. “You saved the kid though.” He added, knowing that was going to be your first question.

You smiled a bit more. “Good.”

Kelly swallowed hard as he took a seat in the chair near your bed, still holding your hand in the gentlest way, like you were made of glass.

“I’m okay.” You whispered after a moment.

Kelly nodded, not saying anything, not even looking at you.

“If you’re gonna yell, you should get it over with already.”

“I’m not gonna yell.” Kelly shook his head, still not looking at you. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

You fell silent again.

“I’m gonna go, give you time to rest, and I’ll come back tomorrow.” Kelly said softly, standing.

As he went to release your hand to walk away, your grip tightened to keep him from letting go. “Stay. Please.” You begged softly, Y/EC eyes looking up to meet his blue ones.

Kelly couldn’t tell you no, so he nodded and sat back down.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said...this morning, I think? I don’t really know how long I was out.” You rambled quietly, ignoring the pain in your throat.

“Y/N.” Kelly said softly, trying to stop you, but it didn’t work.

You shook your head. “No. I have to know...” You said softly, your eyes meeting his again. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course I did.” Kelly said softly. “I love you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Really?” You asked softly, even though he had just said so. “That’s good, cause I love you too.”

Kelly smiled back at you. “Good.” He leaned forward and gently kissed you once. “Now get some rest.”

“Will you stay?” You asked softly.

Kelly hesitated. “I don’t know if they’ll let me, but I’ll stay as long as I can.”

You scooted over and patted the bed next to you.

“You sure about that?” Kelly asked, raising a brow. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You assured him, and the minute he laid next to you, you snuggled close to him.

~~~~~

You were released a couple days later but you weren’t cleared to go back to work yet, so you were planning on staying at your apartment and binge watching your favorite show.

Kelly, however, had other ideas.

“I’m here to take you home.” Kelly smiled as he walked into your room just as you were finishing getting dressed.

You turned and tilted your head. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I took some time off to take care of you.” Kelly responded like it was obvious.

You frowned deeply at him.

“What?” Kelly asked you.

“You shouldn’t have done that. I’m fine.”

Kelly shook his head. “I’d rather be safe than sorry, and with my thoughts constantly on you they wouldn’t be on the job, so therefore I’m doing this for the both of us.”

You were about to argue but didn’t really see any sense in it, so you relented and nodded. “Does this mean you’ll be staying with me?”

“Either that or you can stay with me.” Kelly responded.

“That’s up to you.” You told him. “I don’t really care as long as we’re together.”

Kelly smiled at you. “You ready to go?” Reaching his hand out to you.

You nodded and took his hand, following him out.

“Do you need to stop at the front and sign out?” Kelly asked softly.

You shook your head. “I already did all that, I’m clear to go.”

He wrapped his arm around you as you were walking out of the hospital and led you to his car, opening the passenger side door for you.

“Aww, such a gentleman.” You said softly, kissing his cheek before getting in.

Kelly smiled and shook his head a bit as he shut the door and went around to get in the driver’s seat.

After you got back to your apartment, you ordered pizza and the two of you made yourselves very comfortable on the couch.

#kelly severide imagines #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x reader #chicago fire imagines #chicago fire imagine #//first story after getting over writers block #it's not my best but it's not my worst and if i don't post it now I'll fuss over it for even more time than I already have

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metanoiamorii · 3 years

Text

Wip Re-Introduction: A Rope In Hand

❛Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back. It can’t be hidden away like the guilty secrets we try to keep in our subconscious.❜

♧ Title: A Rope In Hand [ARIH]

♧ Status: First Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person, flexible between a few

♧ Genre: Dark Fantasy, Supernatural, LGBTQ+, Action, Drama

♧ Warnings: This story revolves around the occult. There will be talk of witch hunts and trials and cults. There will be torture methods used to gain confessions, and these methods will be justified under religious belief. There will be toxic and abusive relationships, particularly family; finding an escape from them, and healing from the trauma. There will be homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and colonization. There will be major character deaths, but I can spoil after the book ends the main characters do get a happy ending. Each chapter and scene posted will have personalized warnings, but these are the main things to expect.

♧ Featuring: The majority of the characters will be LGBTQ+, from pansexual, homosexual, to asexual; genderfluid, agender/nonbinary, and transgender. Each character is complex and morally grey. Yes, they will do things that are blatantly terrible, or actively good. Overall, they will be morally grey and questionable at best. There will be complex world-building, from both the universe it takes place in, and the religious pantheons brought up. The religions brought up will be polytheistic and animism-themed. The romance between the major characters will be slow-burn enemies to friend to lovers, and them learning to love themselves through one another. There will be an exploration on generational healing, and unlearning toxic, and bias believes.

♧ Setting: The setting is influenced by Victorian London, and Medieval Ireland. There will be mention of other places, primarily western Europe, the Ottoman Empire, Ancient Rome, Eastern Asia, and Napoleonic France.

♧ Synopsis:

In the town of Arkaley, in the northwest of the Duchy of Ruairc, the people have been plagued by bad fortune and crime. Attacks of bandits on the road, raids from pirates on the shores, untimely deaths of children and young women, elected officials coming out corrupt; there is no end in Arkaley of the suffering the locals endure.

Rationally, to explain such a bad string of luck, there is only one possible explanation: Witchcraft.

The Duchy of Ruairc already has a history of witchcraft: the Ó Ruaircs turned out to be witches, the Abondé incident in Salem, the Liathain incident in Trakee; the Ruaircs have their record. Perfectly acceptable for everyone to assume the worse of the Ruairish, as they have proved to be nothing but.

To prove his worth, the young Reverend Prudence Clemency Frye, takes up the task of quelling this coven of witches and heading this witch-hunt. Young and naïve, witch only knowledge from books and little hands-on experience, he’s unprepared for this challenge. When he finally leaves the town, well… everyone would rather put this incident behind them.

♧ Tease:

My darling dear, a knave so clear

You appear, so bravely near;

Do you hear my darling dear, sneers of austere jeers?

Behave, my dear, when I am near;

For peers will lear, in their fear,

Allow me o' dear our persevere

So my fave you appear

And volunteer a slave so dear

in an atmosphere we fear.

my darling dear, wave so clear

Depravely as we leave, and give a souvenir;

My lips to yours, as you crave in these fallin' years.

Be brave darling dear, and give into hearts o' queer.

For mine you be, your darling dear,

To the stars you have swore in love, so crystal clear.

My peers shall sneer, but whore I be, and you I crave

Oh so bare. slurs and glares, just listen to my prayers.

Kiss me love, and leave o'they to a'crave

In this atmosphere that we fear

Their own, o' pure, knave so dear.

♧ Excerpt:

".... This is wrong." Prudence finds the words slipping from his lips, voice a quiet whisper; a breathless tone of voice. He allows his fingertips to falter against scarred skin, watching as Mastema turned his cheek, he pressed himself into the palm of Prudence's hand. Eyes closed, a smile curled on his face. Prudence couldn't help but smile at the scene, but slowly, slowly, slowly, he rescinded his hand; breaking the hold.

"Revered..." Matching his voice, Mastema replied. Maintaining such a soft voice, as he shifted himself forward on the bed. One foot to the ground, the other drawn beneath himself. Over Prudence he leaned, resting one palm to the sheets, the other lifting to seize Prudence's hand before he could recoil back. "You have made me feel something in which I've never felt before..."

From where he laid, Prudence could only form a soft frown. He knew he could draw his hand back, the grip was far from tight. But he didn't. He laid there, allowing Mastema to hold his hand. "... This is wrong, Mastema."

Mastema frowned; he matched the reaction Prudence wore. Through it, he forced a half-smile, tightening his grip on the other's hand, and forward he brought Prudence's hands to kiss the knuckles. "... If this is wrong, I do not wish to be right."

At the response, Prudence shook his head. "It is not for us to be right or wrong, the gods—"

At the angle he sat, Mastema shifted once more. He dropped Prudence's hand, to lean forward; to lean in close. Both of his palms found the other's cheek, as he touched their foreheads to one another. "... Do not force your will onto another." In that soft whisper, he spoke. Eyes closed, breath drawn in. "Is that not a Commandment of our Creator?"

"I..." Prudence faltered. In, he drew his breath, to try to steady himself. "... I did not take you for the religious sorts."

"I'm not." Mastema all too quickly retorted. But as he was, he laid; this proximity. "But you are."

♧ Characters:

The Order of Witchesbane

Prudence Clemency Frye; The Reverend

Half Fae/Half Human • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Homosexual • Homo-demiromantic

The bastard son of Lord Zachariah Frye. Raised by his father, with his mother dying young, he took to following in his footsteps. He became a religious young man and an active witch-hunter. A part of him desires his father’s acceptance, his praises; the other part despises his father and everything the man stands for. In recent years, he has joined the De La Cruz household, becoming an apprentice beneath the famous Witch’s Advocate; upholding the beliefs that not every witch is evil and has foul intentions, and the ones that mean harm are the only ones that should be hunted.

Zachariah Frye; The Bloodhound

Human • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest living member of the Order. Now he is the man that holds the face of the Order, who you think of when they come to mind. Cold. Vindictive. Despotic. Violent. He is not a good man. He is firm in his beliefs and stubborn to change. Once his mind is made up, he cannot be reasoned with. He is blindly convinced of his beliefs and his cause to eradicate every living witch, unfazed if he has to fill a few innocent thousands in the process.

Calisto Ferzan Hermengildo Melchior Lorencio De La Cruz; The Witch’s Advocate

Half Fae/Half Human • Amab • Nonbinary • Genderfluid • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

A witch-hunter in title alone, Calisto has been making enemies since he could first talk. He’s always enjoyed being the underdog, going against the expectations of society, being ridiculed by his peers. The sole reason? Proving them wrong. To ridicule his own peers for their outdated beliefs, he’s taken to defending witches, proving them innocent of their ‘crimes’, and going on to help them to set up a life in a country more accepting of witchcraft

The servant of Calisto, never seen far from his side. He is a servant in name alone and is more-or-less an assassin, a hitman for Calisto. Held in contempt by Athylian society for being a foreigner, he often treated by others more as a slave than a servant. To help be unseen, to help the De La Cruz Household, Michelotto endures the treatment and goes as far to be perceived as ignorant, alongside him being born a mute. Keeping his true intents and intelligence duly guarded, only a handful are aware he is also a witch.

Myk'loumihr [Michelotto Dougal] Siavash; The Man-Servant

Witch; Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

Austin Duvine; The Lord Without A Ring

Half-Human/Half Fae • Amab • Nonbinary • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

One of the younger members of the order, Austin relies on his father's wealth and name. He doesn't care for responsibilities, he doesn't care for hard work. He's a playboy at heart. He's fit to hold social events, and use his natural talent to gib and fib his way through life. He'll keep his mixed feelings to himself, struggling with doing the right thing or upholding tradition.

Alistair Lavine; The Witchfinder General

Human • Amab • Agender • He/They • Bicurious • Aromantic

The best friend to Zachariah and his right hand. Where Zachariah is business and lacks charms, Alistair can charm a crowd and hold their attention. He knows how to feign being an ideal human, without letting on his own bloodlust; he's a monster in human skin. At the end of the day, unlike Zachariah, Alistair does have morals and standards he will abide by, even if they come back to ruin him.

━━━━━━━━━━

The Vakari Coven

Ausrine Baoghal; The Lady

Witch • Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Aromantic

The woman in charge of the town, widowed and inheriting the right to rule as her husband had no heirs. She is a manipulative and dangerous woman, eager to commit any sin or crime for more power. She, in truth, cares only for herself and would feel no remorse if she had to turn on one of her coven to further her own agenda.

The magistrate and also the chief policeman of the town. He maintains a calm, but manipulative personality. As a front, he presents himself to be fair and just, liked and favored by the people for genuinely caring for them. While in truth he has his own heinous and sinister agenda, aiding Ausrine in her plans.

Leary O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate

Witch • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest member of the coven, Dairine lives under the guise of an elderly woman, who lives alone with her children and grandchildren already leaving her to live their own lives. She is a kind and understanding woman and cares for the younger witches in the coven. She will not support Baríon with her agenda, nor does she care for the servant girl, she even despises the so-called ally Ausrine claims to have and who they all adhere to.

Dairine Ó Séaghdha; The Crone

Witch • Afab • Agender • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The acting servant of Barion, Anisha’s true loyalties lie elsewhere. She stays within the town, serving the coven while acting as the eyes and ears of someone, the person who is truly pulling the strings. She is the one to relay information and letters between the coven and her master. She is a quiet woman, that keeps her head down and her mind to herself. She only shows her true, confident and demanding, nature behind closed doors with the coven when they dare to question her.

Anisha Kaur; The Servant

Witch • Afab • Demigirl • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The charming son of Leary. Many whisper that is part fae, due to his charm, if it’s true or not many are unaware. He is a very sophisticated young man, that has managed to wrap the entire town around his finger. While on the surface he is alike his father is a caring, compassionate, charming young man, something sinister brews beneath. He is devious, demanding, domineering.

Nathir O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate’s Son

Half-Witch/Half-Fae • Amab • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic

Being the baker's daughter, Liannah helps around the bakery and family business. Unlike the company she keeps, she is a reserved young woman. She is polite and maintains her manners with whomever she is dealing with. She has the patience of a saint and rarely loses her cool. Liannah is a woman with a calm demeanor about her, being a woman many are comfortable around due to her peaceful and calm aura.

Liannah Ó Buachalla; The Baker’s Daughter

Witch • Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Panromantic

Ausrine's bastard son she had with a spirit she bargained with for more power. Since he was young, he was raised by the servants of the house, and the coven, over his own mother; the two have more of a business relationship over a family one. Since he cares less about what his mother does, he spends his time with Liannah and Reyes, either at the bakery or getting into trouble somewhere. With Reyes as an influence, Mastema is a flirtatious man that enjoys scandals and making the most of life

Mastema Baoghal; The Knave

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

Rochan Misra; The Charlatan

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic

A foreigner to the Coven, born and raised in the Duchy of Incali. At a young age, he became a traveling charlatan, recently settling within the coven only as he befriended Liannah and Mastema and enjoyed their company. Now, he is the local bad influence: scamming locals out of their money at the taverns, wooing and seducing young men and ladies alike, always trespassing and vandalizing something. He is trouble but has a heart of gold when it matters.

ARIH: : @hekat-ie, @writings-of-a-narwhal, @silent-creed

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Taglist:

General: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @alexwritesfiction, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

Both: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark

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pengychan · 3 years

Text

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 24

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: the problem with Ernesto’s murderous plans is that they tend to only have a 50% success rate. Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit

***

“... And you killed how many Villistas?”

“Ah, I lost count. At least thirty.”

“Five, more like!”

“Shut up! Maybe some were just wounded, but I killed no less than twenty of Villa’s bastards, at any rate.”

“Sí, sí, and then you wounded Pancho Villa himself. One would think that with such a warrior among us, getting through the Zapatistas on our way here would have been a child’s play. I didn’t see you hit a single one. Did you forget how to shoot in the meantime?”

“Ah, shut up. They fought better, is all. Everyone knows Zapata and his followers are twice the mad dogs as everybody else, and I did hit one!”

“Your own shoe doesn’t count, pendejo.”

“Shut your mouth!”

“You’re so full of--”

As an argument broke out, Héctor watched Gustavo sigh and fall back a few paces with his horse. His attempts at buttering up the soldiers to get any sort of useful information had amounted to nothing, when they hadn’t straight-up started an argument like that one. The only question he was able to get a real answer to was why Commander Hernández hadn't allowed them to spend the evening and night in Santa Cecilia before setting off.

“Ay, he won’t hear of it,” a soldier had replied. “He heard of a battalion that was decimated like that - they stayed in a village overnight, but turns out it was chock-full of traitors and they called their friends in during the night, and the men were slaughtered before they could grab a gun. So he’s paranoid about that.”

The expression that crossed Gustavo’s face for a moment, that of a man who just sucked on a lemon, had been enough to tell Héctor that was very much something he had hoped to pull off in Santa Cecilia. Unaware of that, the man - “call me Chucho”, he had said - had added: “It’s a myth if you ask me, more likely all of them just got sick of this shit and deserted.”

“Can’t blame them,” someone had muttered only a couple of paces behind Héctor, only to be immediately shushed by no less than ten of his comrades.

“Shut up, idiota!”

“You want the commander to nail you to a telegraph pole or what!”

“He’s off ahead scouting anyway,” the man had muttered, and promptly fallen in a sullen silence. Morale was low, Héctor had quickly realized; he had been aware of the fact the war was not going all that well for the Federal Army, but this was the first time he saw its effects on the troops. All things considered, he got the distinct feeling most of those men didn’t want to be there a hell of a lot more than Ernesto had.

Only that Ernesto had seized his moment to escape, and they were still stuck.

“-- shoot that cigarette off your mouth from a hundred paces, and if you don't believe--”

“Amazing, think you can hit the men attached to the cigarettes every once in a while, too?”

“If what you're asking is a bullet through your brain--!”

“Brain might be a big word there…”

“Shut your mouth, Nachito!”

As the argument continued, Héctor did his best to tune it out and reached into his saddle bag for the water. They had been warned the water rations were scarce and he had been trying not to drink too much, but they had been riding under the sun for hours, he’d been sweating half his body weight, and there seemed to be no moisture left in his mouth. At least the sun was starting to get lower at the horizon, evening not too far away.

Héctor wondered how they’d spend the night. Would they make camp? Just sit around fires, rifle in hand, and try to shut their eyes for a few hours before they kept marching on? Surely someone would stand guard, were the revolutionaries really going to catch up as Gustavo seemed to think they would? Would there be a battle? How many would come? Or would they decided a few men off Santa Cecilia was not a big enough loss to bother--

“Water?”

“Huh?”

Héctor looked up to see a man riding next to him, holding out a flask of water. He seemed about his age, maybe a little younger, an attempt at a mustache on his upper lip and an uniform almost as ill-fitting as his own. He tried to smile, grimaced at the heat, and awkwardly avoided his gaze at the same time.

“You, uh. If you want water.”

“Ah. I’m getting mine, don’t worry. I don’t want to take your ration.”

“... Right,” the young man muttered, and kept riding by his side. Héctor took a couple of sips from his flask, just enough to make his mouth feel a little less like an entire desert had moved in, and glanced back towards the man. He seemed to hesitate, but as Héctor rather expected he finally spoke again. “So you are, uh, a novice?”

“I… I was, I suppose. I suspect leaving the parish to join the Federal Army means that’s going to lapse,” he said, trying to smile like the idea was funny. The man didn’t seem amused, and Héctor cleared his throat. “... My name’s Héctor, by the way.”

A nod. “Alejandro,” the man replied. “Look, me and the others - several of the others, we… I mean, back there, when the commander shot the gringo-- I mean, the priest, I would have never,” he finally blurted out, holding onto the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Ah.

Héctor had barely looked at Father John’s body on the cobblestones, focused as he was on the fact that man had Miguel, but the mental image had still been lingering in the back of his mind ever since they left. The pool of blood, the way it got into every crack, the sticky warmth of it through his robes when his knees hit the ground.

Some men had taken him away to get him help, he knew, and the Federales had allowed it, but Héctor had no idea if any help would even be possible. He was probably dead, for trying to reason with someone utterly unreasonable, for trying to save Miguel.

He found his martyrdom, at last.

Something in Héctor’s chest ached; the gringo was not a simple man to get along with, easy to despise and quick to judge, but he had tried to do the right thing and he did not deserve a bullet for it. Perhaps taking note of his pained expression, the young man fidgeted.

“Maybe God will save him,” he murmured, and swallowed. “I… we wanted to ask… do you think God will curse us for this? For shooting down one of His servants?”

Why ask me, Héctor almost replied, but then again it was the sort of question one would ask to a priest and he was the closest thing to one those men had at hand. Part of him wanted to believe God would indeed curse them, all of them, Huerta’s damn Federales - but as he looked around himself now, those men who’d seemed to terrifying looked so tired, dirty from days of travel, many of them young and probably wearing their uniforms no more willingly than he did.

How many had been taken the way they were in the first place?

“There is no mercy in war,” he remembered Ernesto saying when he was found out and they confronted him. “They die or you do. On and on, day after day, until you forget you’re looking at humans because it gets easier if you get that detail out of your mind.”

“... The Church says that as long as there is regret, all can be forgiven,” he found himself saying instead. Alejandro nodded, but he looked far from reassured and just fell silent as they rode on towards the top of a hill they were never going to get past.

***

“Those bastards were supposed to come through San Luz!”

Arms still aching and palms burning from the friction with the rope, Sofía made it down the belltower and to the churchyard just on time to hear the frustrated shout. Right before the church were maybe twenty men and women on horses, all of them armed, being filled in on what had happened by a few very confused bystanders who likely had no idea what was going on but were relieved that these new visitors were not Federales at least.

As Sofía approached with quick steps, the man turned his horse to face her. “Gustavo--” he began, and trailed off. He blinked. “... You’re not Gustavo.”

Sharp as a knife, this one. Nice to see we’re in good hands.

“Gustavo went with them. He told me to call for you,” she added, pointing up to the belltower, where the bell still swung slowly. “He said I should tell you to follow the trail.”

The man seemed taken aback, then he nodded. “Very well. What direction did they--”

“They took the road west, through the hills.”

Imelda’s voice rang out suddenly, causing several heads to turn. She was riding an aging horse that had belonged to her family for years, but that was not what made Sofía raise an eyebrow.

The robes were gone, replaced by a gown and a blouse, a belt at her waist with ammunition and the pistol they had taken from Ernesto’s room. Her head was uncovered, her jaw set; the man stared at her a few moments before he tilted his head in recognition.

“... Sister. I was hoping to meet you again in better circumstances than this.”

“José. You probably already gathered as much, but the Federales that took our men outnumber you, at least three to one. I assume you could use an extra pair of hands.”

“We could,” one of the women spoke up. She spurred her own horse closer to Imelda, a rifle slung over her shoulder. Her hair was braided back, showing a still healing cut on the side of her head. “How much practice did you get with that pistol?”

Imelda met her gaze. “Not much. I’ll have to hope what practice I could get will be enough.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I die. Not the first or last.”

The woman smiled. “Very well. We’ll need someone to tell us what men not to shoot, after all, in case Gustavo can’t,” she added, and turned to look back at the man she’d called José. At this point, Sofía suspected she may have been mistaken in her assumption he was the leader there. “They can’t have gone very far, with the supplies and carts they took. We can catch up with them. Gabriel, you and I go ahead to dispatch anyone guarding the back of the column. If we don’t take them by surprise we’re fucked.”

“Well, you heard her, everyone. Let’s get going!”

As they kicked the flanks of their horses to get moving, Imelda looked back, and her gaze met Sofía’s. “... Sister,” she said, “I should mention this marks the end of my novitiate.”

Something gripping her throat - don’t die out there, she wanted to say - Sofía managed a smile. Trying to talk Imelda out of her plan, she knew, would be absolutely fruitless. “About time,” she said instead. “Go take back your stupid fiancé.”

The smile Imelda gave was sharp, telling her clearly that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not that Sofía had doubted that even for a moment.

“You can be certain I will,” she said, and kicked the flanks of her horse, riding off.

“Ay, a novio,” one of the men muttered as he rode past. “And my heart breaks already.”

We had enough heartbreak as is for the day, Sofía thought, but said nothing. Instead she turned away from the galloping horses and let her gaze wander across the parish grounds. A few men were running off to grab what horses and hunting rifles they had and join the rescue party, but no trace of Ernesto. He’d returned, she knew, but no one had seen him since.

Where in the world is that idiota hiding now?

***

Following the trail left behind by the column of Federales - the imprint of hooves, the wheels of carts, the cigarette butts they left in their wake - was easier than finding gonorrhea in a brothel.

Well, at least Ernesto supposed it was; he wouldn’t really know, as he had never in his life had gonorrhea or needed to resort to a brothel for pleasurable company in the first place. His good looks and charm had served him well enough with men and women alike, as Juan could testify.

Except that Juan was dead, shot like a dog in the middle of the plaza, what little color he had on his face draining away along with the blood; Ernesto had not seen it happen, but he could imagine it all too well each time he closed his eyes against the merciless July sun.

Juan could never testify anything anymore, nor roll his eyes or start a lecture whenever Ernesto said something outrageous. He was far enough from Santa Cecilia that he could barely hear the bell anymore, but its toll was still ringing in his head, in every thudding beat of his heart.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I want them dead.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and down his cheeks, or so he told himself. Ernesto kicked the donkey’s flanks to make the stupid animal go faster, the reins of the other clutched tight in his hand, and wiped his forehead, teeth clenched hard. He clung to his fury, allowed himself to bare his teeth in something resembling a smile as his gaze fell on the caskets of wine. Holy wine, plus a special ingredient courtesy of the parish’s old rat problem.

He would see them dead. He would see them writhe and suffer, and he’d let them know it was by his hand; Juan would probably disapprove, that stupid stuck-up gringo, but he was no longer there to talk him out of it. He was no longer there to disapprove of him, and someone had to pay for it. How gracious of God’s church to provide the means to make it happen. Perhaps it was his will, after all, and who was he not to help along divine will?

Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina, Juan had said.

Todo modo. Todo modo. Todo modo.

Ernesto let the words echo in his head until they drowned out all noise from the bell, or perhaps it had stopped ringing, or he simply got too far for its sound to reach him anymore. He pressed on through the dusty path and up yet another hill until finally, finally, he saw it just below: a long column of men who were not long for that world. A few men at the back were looking up towards him, surely there to guard against rear attacks. But they saw no rebels there: only a priest, far more charming than the one they’d shot dead in Santa Cecilia.

Ernesto stared for a few moments, and finally let out a long breath, relaxing his frame. He wiped sweat off his face, opened his eyes, and smiled. A real smile, not a grimace; the easy, charming expression that got him in the good graces of men and women alike oh so quickly.

Who would refuse a blessing in those difficult times? Who’d turn away a friendly face? Who wouldn’t accept some holy wine to wash down the dust and dirt? With some luck, it would be the last thing they’d do before they got to confess their sins to San Pedro himself.

Good luck explaining away the murder of a man of the Church, Ernesto thought, and got the donkeys moving down the hill as quickly as he could. No turning back now, not anymore.

The thought did cross his mind for the briefest moment - what if they see through me, what if they recognize me - but it hardly even registered. At that point he was one deserter among thousands and he’d left his battalion as it headed north, with no plans to go back down towards Oaxaca. Chances any of those men came from his battalion were vanishingly thin, he thought, and to be fair he was almost entirely correct in that assumption. Just almost.

Ernesto de la Cruz kept clambering down the hill on top of his donkey, with the smile of a friendly priest eager to deliver a very special blessing to the heroes of Mexico.

***

He wasn’t there, either. The slippery bastard wasn’t anywhere.

Santiago kicked his horse’s sides again, hands clenching on the reins. He had gone off ahead, ostensibly to scout for any sort of possible ambush, but truth be told it was only an excuse to be alone with his storming thoughts for a time.

He already knew there would be no ambush: the idiots were still waiting for them in San Luz, or had given up waiting and were drinking themselves into a stupor, which was just as likely. A few more miles, and then they could circle back to take them by surprise in the middle of the night.He’d toyed with the idea before, but it was not the current plan: he and his men were expected in Yucatan within days, which left them short on time.

But it was… tempting, nonetheless.

We could get some scum out of the way. And maybe de la Cruz is hiding there, or passed by. Someone might know something. Someone might talk.

Santiago closed his eyes and lifted his head, letting the sun beat down on his face. It had been a scorching hot day when he had found Alberto’s body, too, shot in the back of the head and left to feed carrion birds by the monster who’d greeted them that morning with a smile before they went off on patrol together.

It should have been Santiago out on patrol with Ernesto de la Cruz that day. It was his turn; it should have been him to fall face down in the sand with his brains blown out. But he’d pulled a muscle in his back the previous evening, riding felt like having hot rods pushed into his spine, and Beto had offered to take my place.

Said I owed him a drink. What wouldn’t I give to pay back that debt.

Monster, the gringo had called him. What sort of beast, he had said, but the idiota knew nothing of monsters and beasts that must be put down for everybody’s safety. He, at least, didn’t feign friendliness. He didn’t hide behind a smile. He warned before he shot, stated his terms and delivered on his promises.

If it made him a beast himself, very well; perhaps he was. Perhaps trying to take the child had been a step too far - but he’d sooner be a lion than a snake hiding in the sand.

I cannot turn back anymore. No way to go but forward.

But first, San Luz. If he’s there, I’ll smoke him out.

Santiago Hernández stopped his horse on a rocky outcrop and reached into the saddle bag to pull out his map, so he could work out the best route back for a quick attack. He opened it and studied it under the merciless sun, waiting for his men to catch up

It took him a while to realize it was taking them much too long.

***

“Oye! Come here!”

“There’s a priest!”

“We’re getting blessed, muchachos!”

“And we’re getting wine!”

“... Huh?”

As word travelled fast up the column, causing men to halt their horses and turn, Héctor glanced around in confusion. He looked over at Gustavo, but he seemed about as lost as he was at the notion of a random priest walking into marching Federales to offer blessings and wine. Where did he even--

“He says he’s the parish priest of the hole we just left,” someone added, and Héctor’s blood ran cold, something clenching in his stomach.

No, no, no, no. What is he doing here? They were looking for him. They’ll kill him.

“Padre Ernesto?” Francisco, a young cobbler who’d been taken with him that day, blurted out. Sidling up to Héctor, Gustavo elbowed him in the ribs.

“What’s going on?” he growled under his breath. “Why is he here, and why did you get almost as pale as the gringo just now?”

“I…” Héctor swallowed, unable to force words out. Gustavo didn’t know, and this really was not the time to explain him everything. He needed to get to Ernesto immediately, warn him to get away while he still could, so he ignored Gustavo’s questions and spurred his horse to go back, towards the end of the column. The men there were already starting to gather, dismounting their horses… and passing around caskets of wine.

Héctor braced himself for the moment someone would cry out in recognition and every man present would turn against Ernesto, but there was no such cry; the men were none the wiser as they talked and laughed, took the wine and kept gathering, all semblance of order gone.

Above all, Héctor heard a familiar voice.

“... And once I realized I had entirely missed your arrival, well, I had to catch up with you,” Ernesto was saying, all charm and smiles as he helped unload the caskets of wine. “I couldn’t let my parishioners leave to serve this country without giving them my blessing, you understand. And you, of course, it is the least I could do - careful there, it’s heavy…”

It was like an impromptu party, but it was soon clear not everyone was simply in the mood to celebrate. Héctor did his best to approach, but he got knocked back by several men gathering around Ernesto.

“Padre!”

“Can we have your blessing, Padre?”

“I have not had confession in months--”

“Haven’t heard from my family since March, I don’t know if they are well, pray for them--”

“What happened to that other priest-- the gringo, we did not--”

“Our commander lost his temper, a man of God, I would have never--”

“We would never--”

Ernesto turned to the men, and his smile wavered for only a moment. But then it was back, full of understanding. “... Padre Juan was a man of principle who did not always know when to hold his tongue, but he is with God now,” he said, and Héctor’s stomach sank. So he hadn’t made it. He was dead, and Ernesto showed no sign whatsoever of being affected.

“His soul is safe, and I know he would want me to take care of yours,” Ernesto was going on, and he lifted his hand to impart a blessing, speaking loudly to be heard by all. He spoke in near-perfect Latin John Johnson would have been proud of, giving everyone present absolution before crossing himself. Many of the men mirrored the gesture, relief plain on their faces. Alejandro was among them, looking close to tears.

The blessing done, absolution given, Ernesto smiled and spread out his arms. “Now, let us all drink the blood of Christ and--”

“Padre!” Héctor finally cried out, pushing his way to the front, and Ernesto’s gaze turned on him. His smile grew even wider.

“My child!” he cried out, and pulled him into an embrace. “Ah, what a relief, having reached you on time to absolve your sins and give you the Lord’s blessing!”

Face smashed against Ernesto’s shoulder, Héctor barely managed to whisper. “What are you doing--” he began, only for Ernesto to turn his head and almost snarl into his ear, his voice so full of seething fury it made Héctor’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Saving your scrawny ass so I can kick it myself. Don’t drink the wine, none of you. Tell the others.”

“Wha-- Ernesto, wait, they’re--”

“Not a drop,” Ernesto hissed, and pushed him off before anyone realized they had spoken to one another, patting his shoulder with a laugh. “Go to the others, tell them they have my blessing and that the parish will look after their families,” he added, and before he could add another word Héctor was almost ejected from the small crowd, reeling.

What does it mean? What has he done to the wine?

He looked around to see Alejandro taking one of the opened caskets, saw the wine flowing and men drinking. Héctor wanted to stop him, tell him not to - he was not a bad person, he could tell; many of them were not bad people - but he knew he couldn’t do so without alerting them all, and in the end he had to back away.

Guilt twisted in his gut, but he knew he had to ignore it and move quickly. The wine was being passed around so fast, and he had to warn Gustavo and the others not to drink it before it got to them. Regardless how tempting it was not to tell Gustavo, of course.

No one has recognized him. Maybe it will be all right. Maybe whatever plan he has is going to work. Maybe it will make them pass out, no one needs to die, Héctor thought, and with one last glance towards Ernesto - he was positively holding court now, men around him laughing at something he said or crossing themselves and asking for a prayer - he ran back to where he left the others from Santa Cecilia, trying to reach them before the wine could.

Whatever Ernesto had done with it, he knew none of them wanted to find out the hard way.

***

What got Santiago to lift his gaze from the map and realize his men really should have caught up by now was a very distant sound, one he did not recognize at first. He put away the map with a frown, focusing, and for a moment he thought what he heard were distant screams. It made his blood run cold and his hands clench on the reins.

Had his men been attacked? Could it be? Was there an ambush - had he walked right past the enemy without realizing as much? Heart hammering in his throat, Santiago spurred his horse to trot back, straining to listen… and finally he realized what he was hearing were not screams.

Well, they kind of were, but those were no cries of distress; there was a rhythm to it, all voices rising up together and then falling, then rising again, like… singing? Was that bunch of idiots singing at the top of their lungs?

Have they all gone mad?

Stunned and furious at the same time, Santiago kicked his horse’s flanks to spur it into a gallop back the way he had come. He knew those men’s discipline was almost non-existent, but that was ridiculous. He would see them punished for it, he’d make them march through the night, he--!

Insortaron a Cortez Por toditito el estado: "Vivo o muerto que se aprehenda Porque a varios ha matado!"

Soon he was close enough to hear the words and, after turning a bend, he could see that the sorry excuses of soldiers he’d been leading were off their horses and standing around or sitting in the dirt, drinking and singing like they were off duty in a damn cantina.

He opened his mouth to shout at them, demand to know what was going on in their empty heads, but another voice rose up loud and clear and Santiago’s own voice died in his throat.

Decía Gregorio Cortez Con su pistola en la mano: "No siento haberlo matado Al que siento es a mi hermano..."

He knew that voice; he heard it before in the barracks, at campfires, whenever a comrade picked up a guitar. He never missed a chance to sing, turning each break in a performance.

Alberto had found it endearing; he’d found it annoying. Now it made him feel as though the sweat on his skin had turned into frost.

Still atop his horse Santiago turned slowly, very slowly, towards the source of that voice. He had not expected the priestly robes, and he’d had a beard when he’d last seen him, but he would recognize that despicable face anywhere; he’d dreamed of it almost every night, grinning down at him as he kneeled over Beto’s body.

And now he was there.

How or why he had come to be there, let alone in a cassock and singing along with his men as they guzzled down wine, Santiago had no idea nor he cared to know. All that he knew, all that mattered, was that he was there within his grasp, and that he would never escape again.

Santiago Hernández bared his teeth, and reached for the pistol at his hip.

***

BANG.

The gunshot was distant, reverberating through the hills, impossible to mistake for anything else. It made Imelda’s blood run cold, but she didn’t slow down; her horse was in full gallop, right at the heels of José’s own - which, come to think of it, looked an awful lot like Ernesto’s own missing horse - and she spurred it to go a bit faster, just enough to sidle with him.

“Was that one of yours? Did you prepare an ambush?” she yelled to be heard through the rushing wind and beating hooves, knowing full well what the answer was but still hoping against hope to get at least some explanation for the gunshot.

José shook his head, his expression grim. “No such thing. There may be insubordination among them.”

“Does it happen often?”

“All the time. But we’ll only know when we catch up,” he added, and spurred his horse again. Imelda could only follow, and hope for the best.

If he gets himself killed, she thought, I’ll have to kill him again.

***

The gunshot was deafeningly loud, and close enough to make Héctor cry out - him, and several other men - and the singing to stop abruptly. There were confused cries, men jumping on their feet and dropping their cups of wine to reach for their own guns, turning around wildly to find out who’d shot.

They didn’t have to look far.

“Ernesto de la Cruz.”

Still on top of his horse, pistol raised in the air, Commander Hernández stared at Ernesto with enough hatred to make Héctor tremble. He was vaguely aware of Gustavo and another couple of men from Santa Cecilia talking to him under their breath, asking what the hell was going on, but Héctor was unable to speak, dread gripping his throat.

He found him. It’s over.

He wanted to cry out for Ernesto to run, to do something, but there was nothing for him to do and he could only stand there, staring in horror. Ernesto had stilled, realization beginning to dawn on him that he’d been recognized, and that he was trapped.

The soldiers around him were not quite as quick to grasp the situation. “What--”

“Commander, we, uh, can explain--”

“Shut up, all of you, and seize that traitor!”

“... Sir, that is Padre--”

“That’s no more a priest than I am, idiots! It’s the deserter we’ve been looking for!” the man screamed, and leaped off his horse, pistol still in his hand. “ SEIZE HIM, I SAID!”

“Qué?” Gustavo blurted out somewhere on Héctor’s right, and it seemed that sentiment was prevalent among the Federales as well, most of whom kept staring at their commander as though he’d suddenly started speaking Portuguese.

Then Ernesto tried to run, and all hell broke loose.

Héctor had gone hare hunting once, out of sheer curiosity, watching from the sidelines and not really doing much. The pack of dogs, all of them friendly mutts, had seemed comically clumsy, wagging their tails and snuffling about, seemingly more interested in playing than hunting… until a hare had burst out of its hiding spot to run away, and suddenly the entire pack had pounced. The chase had been brief, the screams unbearably loud, the outcome bloody, and Héctor had felt queasy as the owner of the dogs lifted the prey, grinning from ear to ear while his dogs went back to goofing off.

“This,” he had said, “is why you never try running before even the dumbest dog pack.”

Now Héctor watched Ernesto make the same mistake, and again the dogs pounced as one. The hare had no chance of escape that day, and neither did he now.

“STOP HIM!”

“Got him, I got him!”

“Get your hands of me, hijos de--”

“Agh! He bit me!”

“Get him over here!”

If any of the soldiers had doubted Commander Hernández’s words and still believed him a priest, Ernesto thrashing and screaming insults to their entire lineage - through the flea-ridden Spaniards who’d forced their way between their great-great-great-great grandmothers’ thighs and all the way down to the Garden of Eden - probably took care of it.

As Héctor stared, petrified and not knowing what to do, he was dragged in front of the commander and forced on his knees, arms behind his back. Hernández put the pistol back in its holster, walked up to Ernesto, and grabbed a fistful of his hair to force his head back.

He gave a cold, too-wide smile that still did not reach his eyes and said something Héctor could not hear. Ernesto’s scowl turned to shock for a moment, and then his features twisted in fury. He screamed and tried to rise up to throw himself at Hernández, almost made it, but too many men were holding him down and he was pushed back in the dirt. Orders were barked and they began dragging Ernesto away from the rest of the still confused soldiers, off the path and towards a small grove of trees and shrubs. One of the men carried a long rope.

They'll see me hang, Ernesto had told them after being unmasked, and God, he'd been right. “No, wait!” Héctor cried out and tried to run, but something gripped his arm, pulled him back.

“Stay here, idiota,” Gustavo hissed, his grasp on Héctor’s wrist tight enough to cut off the blood flow. He glared. “Won’t let you become a martyr on my watch, you’re insufferable enough as is. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it. Did you know about him?”

“I can’t let them kill--”

“Did you know!” Gustavo barked, and Héctor fell silent, his expression probably speaking volumes. Gustavo groaned, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “A Federale right under my nose and I never knew. Por Dios, José is never going to let me hear the end of it...”

“Gustavo, let me go, we have to help him--”

“Help is coming, idiota. Stay here.”

“But--”

“Help is coming,” Gustavo repeated in the forceful way of a man trying to will something into reality. “At least that damn liar delayed their march. Any moment now--” he trailed off when a sudden noise reached their ears amidst the confusion and exclamations, harsh and unmistakable - retching. Soon followed by another such sound, and another. And another.

One by one, the men around them began looking very, very sick.

***

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastards--!”

Ernesto’s insults got him precisely nowhere, and his attempt at fighting off the men dragging him away was about as useless. Too many of them, too strong, his wrists already tied behind his back before they shoved him on his knees in the dirt before the cabrón who had somehow recognized his face.

When said cabrón stepped forward and grabbed his hair to yank his head back, Ernesto clenched his teeth to hold back a cry and glared up at him. Who was he? Dimly he knew he must know him, he looked vaguely familiar - something about the mustache, the unusually thin bridge of his nose - but he still could not put a name to the face the way that bastard had somehow put a name to his.

Unaware of his thoughts, the man sneered. “Ernesto de la Cruz - so the rat comes out in the open at last. What’s the reason for this masquerade? Did you think these robes would save you? They will not. I shot down a true priest today. Or was the gringo an impostor, too?”

Our commander lost his temper, one of them had said.

That beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!

YOU TOOK HIM AWAY!

With a wordless scream, Ernesto strained against the men holding him down, against his bounds, wanting nothing more than putting his hands around the man’s neck and choke the life out of him. He almost managed to stand, but the weight of several men was too much and he was thrown back down in the dirt.

“You, take him and follow me. Rojas, get enough rope to hang this bastard. Quick.”

“Yes sir.”

No no no no no!

Ernesto struggled, but to no avail. Bound and overpowered, he was easily dragged away from the path by the small group of men - towards shrubs and trees, where they could hang him by the neck and leave him to feed carrion birds. They would not give him a clean death, he knew. No fall, no broken neck. They’d string him up and… and…

“Let me go!”

“Oh, as you wish.”

The men threw him down on the ground, and with his hands tied there was nothing sparing his face a painful impact. Ernesto ground his teeth to stifle a cry, only for that cry to be forced out of him when a kick in his side threw him onto his back. A knee pressed on his chest and the man leaned down, all his weight on Ernesto’s sternum.

When is the damn poison going to work?

Maybe the parish got scammed and that wasn’t poison at all. Wouldn’t that be a laugh, a fake priest dead thanks to fake poison.

As he struggled to breathe, Ernesto blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked up. Seen up close there was something startling in the sheer hatred in the man’s gaze, and it caused Ernesto to still a moment. The soldier, John’s murderer, sneered once again.

“Tell me, traitor,” he all but snarled. “Do you even know who I am?”

Don’t make him mad, part of Ernesto’s brain said, but the rest clung to the hope the poison would start working soon. Make him waste time.

“Should I?” he spat. A fist connected with his face as soon as the words were out, causing his vision to swim. Blood ran down his face from a split lip, went down his throat. Somewhere above him he saw the rope being thrown up over a branch, one end already tied in a noose.

And then, before his eyes, the blade of a knife caught the sunlight.

***

He didn’t even recognize him.

Of all the ways Ernesto de la Cruz had wronged him, that somehow was the final straw, the worst possible slap to the face. He’d murdered his best friend since childhood and ran off, leaving him to obsess over revenge for months on end - unable to sleep without seeing his face or Beto’s body in the sand, or both - and now he dared say he didn’t even know who he was.

Ah, but he’d know. Before he died, when he allowed him to die, he would know.

“I know who you are well enough,” Santiago snarled, and pulled out his hunting knife. “A coward, a traitor, and a murderer. You’re a Judas, and you’ll die as Judas did - and everyone will know why!”

De la Cruz tried to squirm beneath him, still dazed by the blow but all too aware of the blade of his knife. Santiago sneered, held the knife to his throat, and watched him grow still. There was terror in his eyes, unmistakable, and he savored it like a sip from a bottle of fine wine.

“Ay, you’ll wish I made it this easy for you.” The blade slipped beneath his collar and ripped down through the cassock, baring his chest.

De la Cruz tried to squirm again, this time with more urgency, eyes wide. “Stop!” he rasped.

Santiago smiled. “Why? Have you recalled my name?”

“I have done nothing to you. I--”

“Liar. I should take an eye for that,” he snapped, and brought the tip of the knife’s blade to rest right beneath a widened eye, drawing the tiniest drop of blood from his skin. “Think again, you Judas. Think of the day you deserted. Someone was with you.”

“What…” Ernesto de la Cruz paused and finally, finally, Santiago saw his expression change - from terror and confusion to realization. Of course, that must have jogged his memory: the two of them had barely shared a few words, but he must remember Alberto. And wherever Alberto went, Santiago followed.

Until, of course, de la Cruz had sent Beto someplace where Santiago could not follow.

You took him away.

Something ached in his chest, and all of a sudden Santiago felt ridiculously close to tears. But he had him now. He would see him die, Alberto would be avenged, and he would finally feel better. He had to feel better. He could not contemplate feeling the way he did forever.

“Thiago,” de la Cruz choked out, and he scoffed. Of course, even now, the self-absorbed bastard couldn’t be bothered to remember anyone’s name.

“Santiago,” he snapped, and leaned in so close their faces almost touched, pressing the blade a little harder on Ernesto’s skin and causing another pinprick of blood to well up. “But it matters not. You know whose name I want you to remember, sí? That of the man you killed.”

De la Cruz swallowed. “Alberto,” he managed. “I-- I didn’t want to kill him. I swear. I only wanted to get away, I couldn’t stand it anymore, I... he would have stopped me, he--”

“And so you shot him like a dog!” Santiago screamed, causing that disgusting coward to wince. He pulled back, knees still pressed against his sternum, keeping him pinned down. The grip on the handle of his knife was so tight it ached. And he even had the galls, this bastard, to lecture him for shooting a gringo!

“You left him dead to feed scavengers, and you really thought I would let it stand! You really thought I wouldn’t hunt you down like the beast you are! Tell me, did you kiss him the way Judas kissed Christ when he betrayed him?”

A shudder beneath him that may have been a sob. “P-por favor--”

“Oh, you’re begging now?” Santiago gave a loud, ugly laugh, and pressed the blade against Ernesto de la Cruz’s chest. “Very well, traitor. Go on and beg,” he said, and began to cut.

He did beg, but only for a few moments. For a good while, all he could do was scream.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco #fake priest au

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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To Look On Tempests and Not Be Shaken

Summary: In the wake of a blazing row and an empty apartment, Aaron finds Spencer's well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and recalls the morning after their wedding, when Spencer sat on his lap and read Sonnet 116 to him. Suddenly, everything makes sense.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, fighting and making up, married hotchreid, relationship dynamics, introspection, fluff, shakespeare/literature

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Set in S11, AU in which Haley/Aaron divorced in S1 and Aaron/Spencer married in S4.)

It wasn’t really either of their faults: work was relentless at the moment and they hadn’t had any real time for one another in weeks. That’s not really a consolation to either Spencer or Aaron, however, when they’re in the middle of a blazing row that has them both drowning in flames of anger and passion, unable to see one another for the smoke filling their apartment.

“Aaron, this is the fourth case in a row that you’ve stayed at the office past 4 in the morning to wrap up the paperwork,” Spencer shouts, frustration rising in his chest as he tugs at his hair, already feeling far too overwhelmed. Aaron is looking as unbothered and stoic as he always does during their fights, and even though Spencer is fully aware of the emotion that will be stirring under his carefully constructed mask, it doesn’t make it any less exasperating.

“You know as well as I do that this sort of work load is completely unavoidable,” Aaron says lowly, anger finally audible in his voice. It’s not as satisfying as Spencer had hoped. “We can’t keep rehashing this same old argument. I’m the Unit Chief of a team in one of the most prestigious FBI departments. I have a responsibility.”

“You have a responsibility to me and Jack as well,” Spencer cries, fury bubbling over as he thinks of Jack and just how much he deserves. “We deserve your time just as much as fucking serial killers do.”

Aaron visibly flinches as Spencer swears, an occurrence rare enough to indicate serious emotion. “This is exactly the argument I used to have with Haley, Spencer,” he says harshly. “I refuse to have it with you, too. If you can’t handle it then maybe you should leave, just like she did, hm?”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that means there’s an element of truth in it then, Aaron?” Spencer asks, voice breaking slightly as the scale tips away from uncontained ire towards hopeless misery. He turns away from his husband, trying in vain to conceal his crumpled face and damp eyes. “And you know I would never do that to you; don’t you dare throw your unresolved issues back in my face.”

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Aaron says, voice and face hardened; Spencer can almost see the walls he’s building up again, the stubborn refusal to concede any point. “You’re not being rational. I’m going to bed.”

His stomach twists with the desperation of the situation as he says quietly to Aaron’s turned, retreating back, “What happened to never going to bed angry?” He doesn’t turn back around.

⭐️

Aaron waits in bed for Spencer to join him, fully intending to feign sleep the moment he enters the bedroom but nevertheless longing to know he’s safely tucked next to him in bed. When he hears the quiet click of the front door and checks the time to see he’s been waiting for almost 25 minutes, though, a panicked feeling fills his chest. He throws the covers back and treads out to the living room, only to be met with a decidedly empty room. If he was a more spiritual man he’d say he could still feel the angry aura of their previous argument lingering over the furniture. Really what he feels is the inevitable, empty vacuum a home without Spencer in it is bound to house.

He sits down on the sofa, just on the wrong side of too cold in his threadbare t-shirt and underwear, and buries his head in his hands. The problem is that he knows Spencer’s right. He and Jack both deserve better than this kind of life, of course they do. Jack deserves a father, Spencer deserves a husband. Admitting such a fact, however, requires humility, vulnerability, failure almost. It means telling his boss that he needs reinforcements, that he can’t continue with the 80+ hour weeks, that he’s not as strong as he used to be.

That sort of thing takes a courage that feels so far out of reach, though, and he’s left defending a place he doesn’t want to be in against people he loves more than anything in the world.

Forcing himself out of his miserable carousel of thoughts and regrets, he pulls his head from his hands and catches sight of a note on the coffee table, his name scrawled across it in Spencer’s handwriting. Immediately, his heart sinks: it’s unlikely a love letter. It’s far more likely it’s a note of good riddance, an announcement of abandonment.

Turning it over in his shaking hands, he reads:

I’ve gone to stay with Derek and Penelope for the night. I will pick up Jack from Jessica’s in the morning, on my way home. I love you. Spencer

He immediately feels guilt at ever having thought that Spencer would be cruel enough to leave him in the same way he’s been left himself one too many times. His husband has an incredible amount of love filling his heart, and he’s simply incapable of such cruelty. It’s been a fear of his for many years, that Spencer would grow unhappy but be too kind to leave, prioritising Aaron above himself. He knows it’s Haley’s fault for embedding such fear and doubt in his heart all those years ago, but he can’t help but berate himself for ever doubting Spencer.

It’s not like they’re about to break up. When he considers the situation logically, he knows that. He loves Spencer, Spencer loves him, and ultimately, he’s going to relent. He’s going to draw on whatever shreds of courage remain in his tattered and beaten soul and do whatever it takes to make his family happy, to give them what they deserve. He just has no idea how to cross the gaping chasm that stands in the way of reaching that eventuality.

He goes to place the note back down on the coffee table, but his eyes land on the book it had originally rested on: Spencer’s well-loved copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. He picks it up, sort of absent-mindedly, thumbing the pages the love of his life has read countless times, holding on to the book as an emotional connection to Spencer. It’s travelled their entire relationship with them; he remembers it laying on his spare bedside table back when Spencer visited his apartment in the dead of night, terrified of anyone finding them out. He’d read the poems over and over again, long into the night. Aaron can’t help but smile at the memory of Spencer’s unique quirks.

Eventually, his absent fiddling lands him on a page Spencer’s visited time and time again. A worn leather bookmark Aaron recognises as one of Diana’s gifts marks the page titled Sonnet 116. Tired and lovelorn, he begins reading.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare

((Modern Translation, if you’d prefer:

I will not admit that interferences are possible in the union of two people In love. Love that changes when circumstances do is not love, Nor if it bends when someone tries to destroy it: Oh no! It is an eternally fixed point, Which may watch storms but is never shaken by them; it is the guiding star for ever lost ship: Its distance may be measured but its quality cannot be. Love does not fall victim to Time, though features of youth Are eventually entrapped by him; Love doesn’t change as hours and weeks race past, But endures until death. If this is wrong, and I’m proved incorrect, Then I never wrote, and no man ever loved.))

The words come rushing back to him as soon as he reads them: it had been a contender for Spencer’s chosen poem at their wedding. He’d eventually gone with I loved you first by Christina Rosetti, the perfect compliment to his own choice of I love you by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, but on their first morning as a married couple, laid in their warm and comfortable bed, Spencer had pulled out this very book and straddled Aaron’s thighs, reading it to him with an earnest expression. He remembers the air being punched out of his chest as he’d looked up at a bright-eyed 27-year-old Spencer who had been through so much already but still held all the grace and innocence he did on his first day at the BAU.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until a tear runs down his nose and splashes on the page. What really tips him over the edge is reading Spencer’s small, chicken-scratch annotations around the poem, noting different points in their relationship, events between the two of them that prove the words of an Englishman born 400 years earlier.

It’s so easy for him to doubt how much Spencer loves him - insecurities and the trauma of his separation from Haley consume him far too often - but he’s holding the tangible, physical proof. This is undeniable, this is the evidence his doubtful, damaged heart yearns for, and the furious, raging, endlessly tumultuous waters inside him settle for the first time in weeks.

⭐️

The second Aaron’s alarm goes off at 6am, he gets started on the plan he’d formed as soon as the words of Shakespeare’s sonnet had sunk in. The email he’d composed the night before is the first thing his laptop screen displays when he powers it on, and he presses send on the uncompromising, demanding letter he’d addressed to Cruz. Finally feeling good about the entire situation, he turns the coffee maker on and gets dressed; Spencer’s an early riser but he’s determined to get to Derek and Penelope’s before he leaves.

The relief is freeing, and he feels light for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t quite realised just how much it had all been weighing on him until he’d finally found the courage to cut it free.

Armed with two coffees and Shakespeare’s sonnets, he heads downstairs to the taxi he’d ordered the night before. The city races past in front of the slow and steady sunrise, dawn marking a new chapter in Aaron’s life that he’s determined to make worth it. Slowly the thick of the city fades into the suburbs, and the taxi slows down as they wind through the maze of identical looking streets until they arrive at Derek and Penelope’s home.

He pays the taxi driver as quickly as possible and sighs in relief at the sight of Spencer’s car still on the drive as he climbs out of the vehicle, carefully balancing his two coffees, still warm in their thermal mugs. Fully aware that Derek and Penelope are absolutely going to chew him out the minute they lay eyes on him, he hesitantly rings the doorbell.

“Man, what the hell?” Derek exclaims, clearly exasperated as he swings the door open, revealing a sorry looking Aaron Hotchner standing sheepishly on his doorstep.

“I know,” Aaron replies immediately, trying to portray as much regret and understanding with his body language as is possible when holding two coffees with your husband’s most prized possession perched precariously under your arm. “I know, I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I need to see Spencer.”

Derek looks thoroughly put out just being in Aaron’s presence, but after a moment or two of hesitation he relents, opening the door wider to let him through. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll ask if he’s okay to see you.”

He parks Aaron in the living room and then leaves to go and find Spencer. Only seconds later, he hears the hurried click of kitten heels on the wooden floor and internally cringes; if facing Derek was bad, facing Penelope will be infinitely more painful.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Penelope shouts before she’s even fully entered the living room, “I have never, and I mean never been more disappointed in you. I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky you are. You may be my boss but that does not mean I will not chew you out when you screw up this bad. Anyone who makes my Spencer cry is in my bad books for at least two weeks. You are in the dog house, you understand me? The dog house.”

She’s thankfully cut off from continuing her rant by Spencer’s shy, hesitant appearance at the doorway. Penelope immediately rushes over and gives him a hug, whispering something in his ear that Aaron doesn’t catch but makes Spencer giggle. She reaches up to ruffle his hair before patting his cheek fondly and casting a furious glare in Aaron’s direction as she vacates the living room.

“Hi,” Aaron says softly, breaking the silence left in the wake of Storm Penelope. “I bought you a coffee.”

“What are you doing here, Aaron?” Spencer asks, clearly a little confused but still accepting the drink.

“I know you said that you’d come home this morning but I had to come and get you,” he replies, standing up from his seat on the couch and taking a few steps forward. “Look… your note last night, it was on top of this book. And in my absent-minded cloud of misery I was looking through it and came across Sonnet 116.”

A flicker of recognition lights up Spencer’s eyes as his face softens a little at the sight of his beloved book.

“Do you remember? Climbing into my lap on our one day wedding anniversary and reading it to me? Back then I was partly distracted by the gorgeous man in my arms but last night… Spencer, the words hit home in a way I haven’t felt before. Not to mention your annotations; I felt like I was reading a journal of our love story, which I know was probably your intention all along.” He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. “I’ve been an idiot, a rotten fool, and I’m so sorry. I emailed Cruz this morning.

“You did?” Spencer looks up, surprise filling his features for a second before a small, hopeful smile takes over. “What did you say?”

“That I couldn’t continue with the workload and I needed reinforcements. That I would work the same hours for two more weeks to allow them to find an adequate solution, but after that I’ll be reducing my hours to align almost directly with yours,” he says, tentatively gauging Spencer’s reaction.

It’s made pretty easy for him when Spencer’s hesitantly hopeful smile blossoms into a wide grin, relaxing his posture as relief overtakes his body and he throws himself into Aaron’s arms. Aaron buries his face into his husband’s curls and lets himself breathe easy, feeling infinitely better with Spencer wrapped up in his arms again, just where he belongs.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Aaron whispers as he pulls Spencer impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry, too,” Spencer sighs, nestling his face further into Aaron’s neck. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. But, you’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“I love you, you know that?” Aaron murmurs, pulling away slightly so he can look Spencer in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity as well as possible.

“I know,” he smiles. “I love you, too.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Aaron says, patting Spencer’s side gently. “Let’s get out of here before Penelope comes to stab me with her high heels.”

Spencer giggles at that. “I don’t know, maybe, I’d like to see that,” he teases, digging his finger into Aaron’s ribs for good measure.

“Oh, stop it you,” Aaron smiles fondly before kissing the top of Spencer’s head, feeling happier in this moment than he’d ever thought possible again last night. Peace is finally restored in Aaron Hotchner’s heart, all thanks to one rather ancient English playwright and an academic for a husband. “Let’s go and get Jack,” he says, longing to have his whole family back together, to restore the equilibrium of a tumultuous few weeks.

Spencer leans down to kiss his shoulder as they walk out of the Morgan-Garcia household, and it’s enough to keep him warm the whole way home.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

#hotchreid #my writing #hotchreid fic #hotchreid writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

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OC Profile Bloodlines

Tagged by @earthmightiest and @faithchel

TWC FC5

GENERAL

alias(es): Tia

gender: Female

age: 27

birthdate: December 1, 1990

place of birth: Santa Cruz, California

hometown: Santa Cruz, CA and the open road

spoken languages: English, some Greek and Latin (a better reader and knows more the rules on how to pronounce words), and Math

sexual preference: Heterosexual

occupation: Traveler, witch, trained dhampir, forever annoyance of Conner.

APPEARANCE

eye color: Hazel Green

hair color: Natural Black/Dark Brown

height: 5’9”

scars: No scars but plenty of tattoos (I just never want to put an artist through all the tiny ones and random places of them)

FAVOURITE

color: Sunset Orange and Sky Blue

hair color: Oil Slick style. Basically how she has it all the time.

eye color: No preference but currently pale blue grey 🥲

song: “Landslide” by Jackson Wooten

food: Sushi and Grilled Chicken(many flavors are greatly appreciated)

drink: Alcoholic is an Old Fashioned, Non-alcoholic would be smoothies, though please make sure the green ones are sweet please.

HAVE THEY

passed university: No

had sex: Yes

had sex in public: Yeah. I mean both in bathrooms and storage closets but she also lives out of a van so almost all encounters are sort of public.

gotten pregnant: No

kissed a boy: Yep

kissed a girl: She had to make sure so she did twice.

gotten tattoos: Oh yeah….she has soooooo many

gotten piercings: Just on her ears but she doesn’t always keep them.

been in love: Not until Conner actually.

stayed up for more than 24 hours: Almost. She always almost makes it but just misses the mark.

ARE THEY

a virgin: No

a cuddler: She can be

a kisser: Yes

scared easily: Not really no.

jealous easily: A little but Conner doesn’t give her much reason to be jealous.

trustworthy: Yes she is you can trust her but she holds some reservations about trusting other people.

dominant: Yes

submissive: No

in love: She is

single: Yes and no. She’s holding out for her man!

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: No

thought of suicide: No

attempted suicide: No

wanted to kill someone: Yes and is capable of doing so.

have/had a job: Yeah a lot of little side gigs.

have any fears: Yes. She fears never having something like home and of being used.

FAMILY

sibling(s): No.

parent(s): Lani Caro (mother, deceased), Unnamed Father (Soon for a name, Alive)

children: None

significant other: Conner eventually

pets: Paps the red tailed boa and Mesa the Aussie Shepherd

GENERAL

alias(es): Conner Endicott, Khakis, Smallville, Con Con, and other various nicknames

gender: Male

age: 30

birthdate: September 10, 1987

place of birth: Charlottenburg, Romania

hometown: Charlottenburg, Romania and Rexburg, Idaho

spoken languages: Fluent in Romanian, English, Greek, Latin, Italian, Russian. Partial (Could read it better): German, French, Spanish, Japanese, some Scandinavian

sexual preference: Bisexual

occupation: Local botanist/gardener, witch, undercover Alchemist, mafia lackey, Tia’s handler (the most important job he has)

APPEARANCE

eye color: Pale grey blue

hair color: Black

height: 6’3”

scars: A few minor burns along his hands can only really see them if you know where to look

FAVOURITE

color: Purple and like a dark sea foam green

hair color: Light Brown and Multi Color

eye color: Amber and Green

song: “But Not For Me” by Chet Baker and “Basket Case” by Green Day

food: Papanasi (homemade)

drink: Coffee though not too sweet and probably with a shot or two of espresso when needed. Alcoholic though he sticks more to clear liquors and mixed drinks with them.

HAVE THEY

passed university: No he got two years in though.

had sex: Yes

had sex in public: No. He’s not that kind of guy.

gotten pregnant: No

kissed a boy: Yes sir

kissed a girl: Yep

gotten tattoos: Yep. He’s got Along his left ribs: selfless in Georgian - უანგარო, peaceful in Armenian - խաղաղ, healing in Nordic Runes (Elder Furthark) - ᚺᛖᚨᛚᛁᛜ, Alchemy Symbols for Life and Death on the back just between his shoulder blades the highest point of the arcs connecting/interlocking (this was before he was forced to join so it’s a tad ironic)

gotten piercings: No

been in love: Yes

stayed up for more than 24 hours: His record is 76hrs

ARE THEY

a virgin: Nope

a cuddler: Yeah :’)

a kisser: Yes but sometimes you gotta initiate it and then it’s all over!

scared easily: He’s more paranoid then scared

jealous easily: A bit yes. He can get over it but he’s very cold shoulder type.

trustworthy: Not really….it’s a bit complicated. He only trusts three people entirely.

dominant: Yes

submissive: His anxiety allows for this but he’s stubborn when he wants to be.

in love: God yes!

single: Yeah he’s also waiting for Tia. :’)))

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: No

thought of suicide: No

attempted suicide: No

wanted to kill someone: Yes and no.

have/had a job: Yes, though he spent most of his working life helping mom out in her shop.

have any fears: Yes. He fears the undead (as one should), being deported as he’s pretty sure he and his mom are in the states illegally, and more develop as events happen.

FAMILY

sibling(s): None

parent(s): Zabine Enache (Mother, Alive), John Constantine (Father, Status Unknown) hush I’m aware but like it’s very possible he’s a real person in some capacity, Stasia (Ancestor, he is a direct descendant)

children: None

significant other: Tia eventually

pets: If Mesa could talk she would call herself his familiar but he’s yet to fully accept it.

GENERAL

alias(es): Stasia, Tana, and Stella

gender: Female

age: ~500 years old

birthdate: Unknown

place of birth: In what is now Lithuania

hometown: Unknown but not too far from Charlottenburg.

spoken languages: Lithuanian, Romanian, English, Russian, Ukrainian, German, there are many others that while not fluent she can hold basic conversations in or can better read than speak.

sexual preference: Not specified as she chooses to not use labels but if you had to she’d agree more with aromantic bisexual.

occupation: Witch, Strigoi leader, Boss Ass Bitch, CEO of a trading company with many small businesses.

APPEARANCE

eye color: Blue Green but more leans to blue

hair color: Black

height: 5’6”

scars: None thanks to her life extending spells.

FAVOURITE

color: Purple and White

hair color: Light Brown

eye color: Emerald Green

song: “Oxygan una Xacarilla” by Rafael Antonio Castellanos

food: More inclined to pork and anything Carly makes for her. Stews are fairly common

drink: Whiskey and Brandys. Also lattes with whipped foam.

HAVE THEY

passed university: Yes, in computer science

had sex: Yep

had sex in public: Yes not so much in modern times though

gotten pregnant: Yes

kissed a boy: Plenty

kissed a girl: Yeah Carly’s been her favorite.

gotten tattoos: Once but she healed it away. She got curious.

gotten piercings: Just her ears

been in love: No

stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes. She makes many worldly visits.

ARE THEY

a virgin: No

a cuddler: No

a kisser: Sort of. She’s not in a relationship so she doesn’t all the time

scared easily: Hahaha Good luck.

jealous easily: She can be but it’s more situational and is an emotion that is pushed down.

trustworthy: No. Just….no.

dominant: Yes very much so.

submissive: Nope never really was.

in love: No not really

single: Yes

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: Yes but for spell work only.

thought of suicide: No

attempted suicide: Uhm kind of ish. She wanted to see how far her immortality would take her and tried to jump off a building.

wanted to kill someone: Yes and has done it many times over.

have/had a job: She makes her own jobs so yes.

have any fears: Being without her power, no control, and getting old with little to no legacy.

FAMILY

sibling(s): Sabine Enache (Identical Twin, Deceased) and two unnamed Brothers (Both Deceased)

parent(s): Unnamed Mother and Father both deceased.

children: Ozana Enache (Deceased), Zabine and Conner Enache (Direct descendants, Alive)

significant other: None (though you could put Carly under this label if you wanted)

pets: Her Strigoi lackeys

#hypatia caro oc #stasia e. oc #conner enache oc #tag games #oc profile

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sgtbradfords · 3 years

Note

Could you write chenford, and the rest of the team, attending the annual police dinner/event please? Thank you!

You’re welcome Anon and thank you for the prompt! I hope you’re ready for the fluff fest ;)

Lucy Chen had just finished putting on the final touches of her makeup in the bathroom, the floor length red dress she had bought last paycheck was laid on the bed, her black pumps on the floor as she quickly ran around the room.

She was going to be late, he would be here to pick her up and she would not be ready.

“Lucy!” Jackson West voice carried through the crack in her door as he yelled from his bedroom. “Have you seen my bowtie?”

“Have you checked the shoebox on the top shelf in your closet?” She yelled back, putting her earrings in, moving for her necklace.

A few minutes later Jackson yelled back his thanks, a knock on the front door making her curse as she quickly slipped on the dress, pulling up the side zipper.

She could hear Jackson open the door, greeting the person on the other side.

“Chen let’s go!” another voice yelled. “We’re going to be late!”

She huffed, grabbing her heels, walking out the bedroom door. “When they made you Sergeant they didn’t mean drill sergeant Bradford.”

“Damn girl.” Complimented Jackson. “The picture you sent me did no justice and you’re right, your ass does look amazing.”

Tim cleared his throat. “You two ready?”

“Yes.” Lucy said as they headed for the door. “Wait, no.” she exclaimed frantically running back to her room, returning with a black clutch in her free hand.

The trio made their way to the elevator, the car not moving since Tim had gotten off of it five minutes ago. Lucy shoved the clutch into Tim’s hands before placing a hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she threw her heels on, one foot at a time. Tim looked over at her, arching an eyebrow as she placed both feet back on the floor shrugging. “Don’t lecture me about what may be on the floor. I was rushed.”

The car made it to the floor, the three getting off as they made their way to Tim’s truck.

“Any word on Angela?” asked Lucy as they got in, buckling.

“Wesley texted me on the drive over that she was about to break his hand.”

“Well, as soon as we know something, we are heading over, award be damned.” Muttered Lucy.

Tim rolled his eyes, “I’ll let you tell that to the police commissioner Chen.”

“Fine, we go up there, accept the award and leave.”

Jackson laughed. “Lucy, there’s politics involved, you two have to wine and dine.”

“But I don’t want to.” She whined.

“I’ll tell you what boot, we stay for two hours, we schmooze for Mid-Wilshire, accept the award and then we can go check on Lopez.”

“Hour and a half?”

“You did put a lot of effort into getting dressed for tonight Lucy.” Offered Jackson.

“You two are making it sound like a date.”

“If a date only lasts two hours, then someone is doing something wrong.” Tim pointed out. “It’s not a date.”

“Fine. They can have me for two hours, two and a half at max and that’s it.” She countered as Tim pulled up to a parking garage.

An hour later they were seated at the table assigned for their department, joined by Sergeant Grey and his wife, John Nolan and his date.

“And now, we would like to honor one of our former Training Officers and his Rookie. On August 28th of this year, Sergeant Tim Bradford and Officer Lucy Chen of the Mid-Wilshire division were patrolling in the area of Westchester when they spotted large amounts of smoke coming from a residence. Our two brave officers were able to get on scene, finding the elderly couple still inside. They were able to pull both of them from the burning house, administering lifesaving medicine to Mr. Hilt. Sergeant Bradford and Officer Chen went above and beyond the call of duty which is why on the behalf of the LAPD they are receiving the Distinguished Service award. If we could at this time, Sergeant Bradford, Officer Chen please come forward to receive this award.”

The crowd began clapping as Tim and Lucy stood, moving towards the stage. They approached, smiling and posing for pictures as the Commissioner presented their individual awards before public relations pulled them backstage for more pictures.

“I feel like I’ve been smiling for hours. Is my face permanently frozen?” Lucy asked, turning around as they headed back towards the table. “Because it feels like it is.”

Tim smiled as he rolled his eyes. “No Chen, your face is not permanently frozen.”

The Commissioner continued handing out awards before announcing for everyone to have a safe and pleasant night, a band playing music as the higher ups began making their way to the dance floor.

“Lucy,” Jackson said to her, standing as he held out his hand. “would you care for a dance?”

Lucy smiled as they walked to the dance floor. “I will apologize in advance for any bruised toes.”

They danced for a few songs before Lucy felt a tap on her shoulder. “May I?”

Jackson let go as he looked at Lucy, an eyebrow raised in question. “I’d love to.”

Lucy placed her left hand on her new dance partner’s shoulder, her right hand into his left.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, Officer Chen?” he whispered as they swayed.

She blushed. “You have not, but you don’t look half bad either Sergeant Bradford.”

“Only half bad?” he asked, smirking as Lucy lightly slapped his shoulder.

“You’re incorrigible.” She told him as she placed her forehead on his shoulder. “I am remembering why I don’t wear shoes with more than a two-inch heel.”

“Because it’s not a good weapon?”

“No. Though that is a good point. My feet are killing me.”

Tim was about to respond when his phone began buzzing in the pocket of his suit jacket, a joyous smile overtaking his face. “There’s only one person that could be.”

“Angela?”

“It’s baby time.” They walked back over, her hand still in his as he told the table, the table collecting their belongings in a hurry.

They arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later, the group heading for the maternity ward waiting room, finding it empty.

Wesley entered through the double doors thirty minutes later, grinning from ear to ear.

“7 pounds, 2 ounces, 23 and a half inches long.”

Congratulations were made as they each took turns hugging the new dad. “How are they?”

“Good, they just finished up the newborn tests and Angela is feeding her right now. She is insisting you guys get to see her first. Not to brag but she is the cutest baby you’ll ever see.” Wesley said as he took a seat across from the group, taking a moment to let the evening sink in.

Wesley asked about the gala, as they asked about their new family member. Ten minutes later his phone began ringing as he told them about who she looked like more. “That was Ang, they only let a few people back at once, but she has asked for Tim, Lucy and Jackson to come back first.” He grinned, leading the three back.

Wesley knocked as he entered, quietly walking into the room as the other three joined.

“Hey.” Angela said, a tired smile on her face as she looked up from the baby asleep in her arms.

“Congratulations Mama.” Lucy said as she moved closer to the bed.

“Thanks, I’ve already decided I will not be doing that again anytime soon, no matter how cute babies are.” Angela confessed as she ran a finger over the sleeping infants face, the newborn suckling on her lower lip.

“Do you have a name yet?”

“After everything we have been through with De La Cruz, we decided she needed a strong name, fitting for her. We agreed to wait and meet her before settling on a name but once we seen her, the name became fitting. So, we would like you to meet Morgan Amari Evers.” Explained Angela as she adjusted the baby so everyone could see.

“I have to say Wesley, she does have your nose.” Lucy pointed out from the side of the bed as Morgan opened her eyes. “Awwwe, hi baby.”

Angela cleared her throat. “We asked you guys in here for a reason, we’ve done a lot of thinking and we would like you three to be her god parents.”

The room fell silent as Jackson, Lucy and Tim stared down the new parents. “You’re closer than the family we’ve got, and should something ever happen we feel like she would be have the best care of in your capable hands.”

Angela worriedly looked at Wesley as Tim spoke first. “I would be honored.”

“Me too.” Lucy agreed.

Jackson nodded his head, “I’m in.”

“She’s going to kick ass and break hearts when she’s older Wesley, I hope you’re ready.”

They stayed for a few more minutes before leaving, not wanting to overstay, allowing Wade, John and Nyla their own turns to visit the family.

“Sterling’s downstairs Lucy, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jackson told her, pocketing his phone as he headed towards the elevator, a nurse stepping off the opening car as he stepped on.

Lucy and Tim slowly followed behind, talking about the traits they seemed to have noticed baby Evers had inherited as they waited on the car.

“Did you ever want kids with Isabel?” asked Lucy.

“It was difficult with Isabel, one minute she would say she did and the next she was going undercover on a months long op. I would love to have one or two someday.” He confessed, sticking his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “What about you?”

“Someday, with the right guy of course. My mother says she’s getting older and that I’m not getting any younger.” She told him rolling her eyes as they stepped on the car. “I would want to be in a good place first.”

Tim couldn’t help but imagine a younger version of Lucy running around, with big brown eyes and her long brown hair in pigtails as a boy with the same brown hair and blue eyes, barely a toddler himself pulled on the long hair. “Someday.” He whispered, a faint smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye at the thought of what the future could hold.

#the rookie fic #tim bradford x lucy chen #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #chenford

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