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Hi! For your “this isn't drama, it's love (the kind you can't get away from)” fic, (by the way, I LOVE THIS FIC!!!!) I’d really love it for prompt 22 if Carlos is recovering from an injury and TK decides to switch shifts so he can stay home with injured and recovering Carlos!!
awww thank you so much for coming to my inbox and sending me this wonderful ask! your words mean a lot to me! i hope you like it!
#22 canceling their schedule just to spend time with them
canceling their schedule just to spend time with them
original prompt list here
“Honey, I’m home!” TK announces as he closes the door with his heel. He slips off his sneakers and pads through the foyer and into the living room to find Carlos propped up against some cushions on the couch. “How are you?”
“What are you doing here?” Carlos asks suspiciously, looking up from his book, staring right into TK’s green eyes over the rim of his readers. “Weren’t you supposed to be on shift right now?”
“Yeah, but I switched it,” TK replies nonchalantly. He checks his surroundings, noticing an empty glass on the coffee table. He goes straight to the fridge, opens it and takes out a cold water bottle. “Here,” he adds, uncapping it and filling the glass once again. “You’re all set on hydration now.”
“TK,” Carlos says warningly.
“Anyone would think you don’t want me here,” TK pouts.
“I do want you here,” Carlos reassures him. “But not when you’re supposed to be working, Ty.”
“I switched shifts with Pearce,” TK explains. He checks on the cast covering Carlos’ left foot as if he’s searching for something he evidently doesn’t find since he sighs happily. “It looks good.”
“It looks exactly the same as it did three hours ago when you left for the station,” Carlos mutters. “It’s broken, TK. It’ll be healing for at least three more weeks.”
“If you treat it with enough care, it can heal sooner than that,” TK tells him. “I’m just making sure you—”
“Why would you switch shifts with Pearce?” Carlos interrupts him. “You usually ignore the guy as much as you can.”
“You’re injured!” TK says as if it’s evident.
“And I can take care of myself and my broken foot, babe. Hadn’t you already scheduled all your shifts so you could have two days off in a row right before the wedding?”
TK sighs. “Yeah, but you’re injured, Carlos. I almost lost you.”
“I broke a foot running after a suspect,” Carlos points out. “I fell on my foot on a weird ankle. That’s all. You can’t go on canceling all your schedule and switching shifts every single time I get injured on the job, TK. Getting an injury rather comes with the job.”
“Says the man who left his precinct without as much as saying a word about it when I last was in a coma—”
“I told Mitchell where I was going!” Carlos exclaims.
“—and then you stayed there waiting for me to wake up for four days,” TK continues, blatantly ignoring what Carlos is saying.
“You were in a coma!”
“And we weren’t even together, Carlos,” TK says in an even voice. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You leave everything to be by their side. You were there when I woke up because that’s where you needed to be. Here is where I need to be now.”
“But what about chilling before the wedding, not working and just relaxing?”
“I’ll do it on our honeymoon, babe,” TK tells him with a smile. “It’ll be fine, because we’ll be together. Just like right now. Please, let me be here for you, just like you always are for me.”
TK sees the moment Carlos lets his defenses down and allows him to fluff the cushion under his foot, make him a sandwich, sit down beside him and surf through Netflix until he finds a show he likes.
He knows he’ll be exhausted by the time the wedding comes, after having switched all his days off for the next few shifts so he can stay home with Carlos. But his fiancé is worth that and much more. And he wasn’t lying. He’ll be fine.
Because he’ll be with his husband when everything’s said and done.
#lire's 40 to the 40s#rubinsteinsilva126#you asked#you ask and lire answers#prompt 22#prompt 22: canceling their schedule just to spend time with them#tarlos#tk strand/carlos reyes#carlos reyes/tk strand#911ls#911 ls#911 lone star
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💗💗SEND THIS TO TEN OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING💗💗
🥰😍🥰😍 Liiiire, thank you my friend 😘😘😘
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The English Client — Six
— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader
— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.
— WARNINGS: none, it's just cute
— WORDCOUNT: 3.2k
I
One enchanting benefit of Tom entering her life, even if it was to be temporary, was to remind her that somewhere out there, outside the walls of her profession, the world went on. She was jealous for a moment that others got to travel, away from their boss and family. Just be a new person in new places, a stranger in the crowd. But it also filled her with some optimism to know that there were other people of her age invested in rare books, not just venerable aristocrats or obsessives like dear Fred.
And it, most shamefully of all, made her look up with a smile whenever the bell to her shop chimed. It wasn’t always Tom — but today, it was.
It was the third time he had come, the second since they put Torchia’s infamous work on display, and last time he hadn’t even mentioned it. She was so relieved… But that wasn’t the only reason she was smiling.
“Welcome back,” she grinned, getting up smoothly to greet him. “Happy with The Lost Word?”
“My employer is happy. Which means, I am happy,” said Tom with a rigid curling of his lips.
“Oh. Is he searching for the Philosopher’s stone?” she teased.
“Certainly hope not. Merlin forbid that he should live forever...”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his silly wording. Tom had a way of being funny that made it look like he wasn’t even trying…
He strolled through the shop as surely as if he owned the place, but his eyes now scarcely strayed to any of the books. They were mostly fixed on her.
“So, how can I help you today?”
“Oh, in many ways,” he purred, coming close enough to lay on her desk a sheet of paper, right beside her hip.
His closeness made her tremble, left her breathless, chilled her hands and warmed her face quite shamefully. She picked the paper up and her easy smile tensed. It was a list.
“These are quite the names,” she said.
“Do you have them?” asked Tom silkily.
“We do. Wait here.”
“No. I’ll come and help you.”
The stack piled high on her desk. They were as heavy as they were expensive. She looked at Tom from the corner of her eye as he checked his list against what she had brought with him, his gaze impassive and cool.
“Are you sure you can afford these, Mr. Riddle?”
“Please, call me Tom,” he smiled.
She smiled back but waited for him to answer. Her pleasure at seeing him had given way to business.
“How much?” he asked.
“For all of them? I’d estimate seven million lire.”
“So around ten thousand pounds…”
“At least.”
“I could send a telegram to my employer, but I doubt he would be willing to part with such a sum.”
She nodded and without a word began to pick the books up to return them to their shelves.
“Unless,” he quickly added, his susurrous voice lingering around her, “you would be interested in a trade.”
She paused. He looked more seductive than he had any right to be, bartering for books with his eyes so dark and his smile childishly expectant.
“W-what kind of trade?”
“Back at my hotel room, I have a number of manuscripts I acquired in Paris. Beautifully illuminated, tightly bound, and with the most tantalising marginalia. I’m sure at least some of them would catch your eye.”
“Would your employer not mind their absence?”
“Not as much as he would mind these,” he said. “I doubt he’d even notice. We don’t appreciate the French that much in England, you know.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself quietly.
“Would you consider it?” Tom asked.
She did. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she thought about it. This is a bad idea…
“Let me help you,” he offered again, picking up half of the books behind her.
She thought about it as she followed him, her eyes scanning that taut back, those thighs that arched beneath his trousers smoothly with each step. She nearly moaned looking at him. Did he dress so tartly just to tease her?
“Not too much, is it?” he asked, casting an easy smile over his shoulder.
“What?”
“Your books. You’re not carrying too many?”
“Oh, not at all,” she giggled, “I’m used to it.”
She felt a little guilty, undressing him with her eyes like that… But then it was her turn to feel naked as she climbed the ladder once again to put the books back one by one. Tom waited at the bottom, his hands on either side of the ladder and his dark eyes trailing up. She smiled to herself — secretly, and sadly. Nothing could ever come of it.
“I’m afraid I have to refuse you, Mr. Riddle,” she said once she was back down before him.
“It’s Tom,” he frowned. “And why?”
“It would be wise not to trade books in such a place.”
“What sort of place would that be?”
“Private.”
Tom nodded and, to her relief, smiled.
“I see. A clever move.”
She breathed a grateful sigh.
“How about a public place, then?” he asked.
“W-what do you mean?”
“Go out with me.”
Her lips parted but not a sound came through. Tom took advantage of it to continue.
“Would you have dinner with me tonight? I know a very nice restaurant…”
“Oh, well, erm, you can just bring the books here…”
“I could. But what would be the fun in that?” he said with a half-smile.
He looked at her as hopeful and expectant as a little boy, and in turn, brought out the careless little girl in her. It had been so long since she’d gone out with someone on a real date… Longer still since she enjoyed it.
“Alright,” she chuckled. “Alright. I finish at six. Shall we meet in front of the Fontana Trevi?”
“Sounds wonderful,” he said, his head held high in something like victory. “I will be there.” He bent and kissed the soft and dusty back of her hand, gaze meeting hers for one long moment.
What did I just get myself into?
II
Compared to the odium of charming Burke’s rich elderly clients, this was as fresh as a wintery morning and twice as bright. The sight of Rome at night took away whatever other bitterness Tom harboured.
He hadn’t been charmed by the city when he first arrived, but he got fonder of it the longer he stayed. The wide-open piazzas on which intimately narrow streets converged like the threads of a spider’s web, the hard white buildings, the lazy cafés, the ruins… They had the charm of eternity about them that always fascinated Tom.
So he stood before the Trevi fountain with a real smile on his face, a relaxation of the features he didn’t often get to have. In his leather messenger bag were several muggle books, perfectly ordinary, but enchanted to look like ancient tomes he’d seen during his studies. The transfiguration would not wear off for another two months.
He heard the sharp patter of heels he knew so well by now and turned to see her walking straight toward him. Right on time… Tom secured the strap of the bag around his shoulder and greeted her with a warm smile.
“Hello.”
“Hello again,” she murmured shyly, stopping before him.
“Did you change clothes? You look so different outside of that place…” he asked, allowing his gaze to trail transparently down her figure.
“Oh no,” she chuckled, “it’s much too far.”
Tom smirked. He knew that too.
“Well, you look lovely. Shall we go? The restaurant is this way.”
It was recommended by a concierge at the Gallienus as a ‘solid’ place to eat. It was quite central with a view over the Tiber and was frothing full of young and noisy people when they arrived. Tom felt relieved he had a reservation, but when he turned to her, his heart fell. He’d seen that look before on Abraxas or Rosier whenever they saw him do something decidedly middle-class and muggle.
“You don’t approve.”
“It’s not that! It’s… a nice place,” she said timidly.
“But?”
“It’s a bit of a cellar, you know?”
“I… don’t, actually.”
“It’s where men go to meet… women,” she whispered.
Tom slowly understood. He’d have to choke the life out of that concierge and find somewhere to hide the body…
“I’m… sorry. We can just call this off. I —”
“No,” she said quickly, her hand closing on his elbow in a small and warm embrace. “No, no, really, we can still go somewhere… I know a good place. A really good place. You want me to take you?”
“Please do.”
They took a tram to Via del Corso, and passed through a long and narrow street filled with little places — record stores, wineries, antique shops — until they reached the end of it. There, on the corner, was Othelo’s. He wondered if it was the same place Clement had talked about…
They took a table outside, beneath wide umbrellas, far from the entrance. Nobody would hear them, nobody would look at them.
“You’ll love it here,” she grinned as she settled down and took the menu. “Their seafood is the best in town.”
“Is that what you’ll have?”
“I think so,” she hummed happily. “Maybe some spaghetti with frutti di mare.”
“I’m more drawn to this, I think. Nero di seppia…”
“I’d recommend against it,” she chuckled.
“Why? Is it not good?”
“Oh no, it’s very tasty…”
“Then I’ll have it.”
She grinned in a deliciously impish way.
Although her gaze slid to his bag where the square shape of hefty volumes bulged, she made no mention of them. He found himself nervous for the first time, and burdened with the instinct to impress — a natural and manly sentiment, but no less bothersome.
She took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine to go with their meal.
“A whole bottle?”
“It’s alright. What we don’t drink, we can take home,” she said, without specifying whose home that would be.
They drank it, and after a few glasses, Tom found himself confessing things that would have made him cast Oscausi on his own mouth.
“And I loathe that… putrid bundle of bile, bald-headed bastard, with his greasy eyebrows and wart-crusted mouth.”
“Oh, Tom,” she sighed sympathetically.
“I swear on my grandfather’s ring,” he hissed, caressing the Horcrux with his thumb, “one day I’m going to gouge out his eyeballs, and piss in his skull.”
“I know, I know…”
“Everyone thought I was mad to go to work for him — and that syphilitic stoat, Borgin. I could’ve had a top position at the Ministry, I could have —”
“So why work there?” she asked, lips stained red around the edges from the Arrabiata sauce. Her elbows were braced upon the table, her body drawn toward him.
“Because of what it allows me to find,” said Tom. “The oldest, most rare and forgotten relics most people couldn’t dream of seeing, let alone touch.”
“I understand…”
“Do you?” Tom smiled, reaching forward with a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth.
She blushed and mumbled a thank you before leaning back into her seat.
“Do you feel the same?” Tom asked.
“W-what?”
“About your employer.”
“Oh! Well, I…”
Tom smiled and listened, feeling genuinely curious.
“The Baron is a different sort of person from your Mr. Burke. In fact, I don’t think he’s like anyone you’ve ever met. He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met either. But…”
“Yes?”
“I suppose I don’t know how I feel,” she laughed skittishly, her arms coming up to wrap around her. “I respect him, but I fear him too.”
“Why is that?” asked Tom, leaning back and sipping his wine. “Has he threatened you?”
“No,” she said quickly, “he’s quite harmless, in a way…”
Tom cocked a brow. It was certainly the oddest way he’d heard anyone be described.
“But it’s just that…”
“Yes?”
“You’ll think me insane,” she laughed.
“Never.”
She leaned forward, her eyes darting around as if the very shadows could have ears, and then she fixed her gaze on him with utter seriousness.
“I think he might be a wizard,” she whispered.
Tom tried hard not to laugh. “No…”
“He’s obsessed with magic and weird rituals and such…”
It wasn’t that Tom didn’t believe her, but, well, he didn’t believe her. It would’ve been a convenient explanation for why the shop was charmed, but no real wizard would operate that openly in muggle society, even in Italy. Besides, if this Baron were a wizard, Burke would certainly have known — wouldn’t he?
“Really, Tom. He’s involved in all sorts of weirdness. Him and all of his crusty old friends…”
Tom nodded as he listened. “So you’re afraid he’ll turn you into a toad if you resign, is that it?”
“Not funny! And… maybe?”
He laughed, and leaned forward in an utterly uncharacteristic show of consolation to place his hand upon her own.
“He won’t curse you,” he promised her. “He’s just a weird old man with more money than sense. Just like the rest of them.”
She smiled back weakly at first, but her smile grew as his hand chilled and calmed her own.
“Why don’t we look at your books, Tom? I’ve been yearning to all evening.”
“Have you?” he winked. “Alright, as soon as they take the plates away.”
And once their table was cleared, he presented them to her with all the reverence befitting the venerable tomes they were masquerading as. To his relief, she did not leaf too much through them or read long lines of text. She was satisfied by checking the binding and the sound of the pages between her fingers.
“Tom… These must fetch quite a price.”
He smirked.
“But…”
His smile died. “But what?”
“I don’t think I can authorise their sale. You should probably speak to the Baron before we can accept them, and then discuss the trade for the other books you wanted.”
Tom leaned back in a contemplative manner, but inside his blood was singing. He brushed a black lock away from his forehead, fingers threading through his hair, and watched as her eyes followed the movement. I have you now, he thought, you and your obstinate Baron.
“Are you quite certain? After all, your expertise is —”
“I’m certain.”
“Alright, alright. Well,” he sighed, “I suppose if I have to…”
III
They packed up the books rather quickly after she finished reviewing them, just in case they spilt wine on them, and soon they were safely back in Tom’s messenger bag.
As they walked back together to the main street, he offered to walk her home.
“Oh, no,” she laughed, “I know the way, really.”
“Come on, it’s —” he checked his watch, “half past ten. What sort of gentleman would I be to let you walk the streets alone at night?”
He only had to flash a smile at her in that practised way for her to yield.
The ride on the tram was pleasantly cool, the evening breeze caressing their cheeks, playing in their hair, rustling the edges of their shirts. It cleared away the wisps of wine still swirling through their heads.
Tom kept a soft and harmless smile throughout the ride, but he let his eyes linger quite openly. He wanted her to feel desired, wanted her to be seen in a way that was more appreciative, more personal, than whatever crass wolf-whistling and leering she was usually subjected to in Rome.
Their hands rested side by side on the worn seats, not touching except when the jostling on the tracks swayed them briefly together. He could see her lips fight back a smile whenever it happened.
The walk to her building was slow, and they barely spoke, except to arrange for his meeting with her employer. Tom made passing note of the information, but his attention was mostly fixed on her. She seemed less happy the closer they got to her street, even though he thought his company might be enough of a tonic. It usually was for women…
He made a point to look around, pretending to see it all for the first time. She only looked ahead, or at the ground.
“I’ll have to call him in advance, of course. He has an unpredictable schedule.”
“Of course,” said Tom.
“I’ll speak with his secretary… She will know when he’s available.”
“Hmm.”
“Will you speak to Mr. Burke in the meanwhile?”
“Hmm? Oh, I don’t think so. He entrusts me with everything.”
“That must be nice,” she said with a faint smile.
“It’s not because he trusts me,” said Tom. “He’s just not clever enough to make such decisions. Only clever enough to realise it.”
“Even better,” she laughed. “A dumb employer might be a blessing.”
“You would think so,” he scoffed. “But it’s a burden. Any sort of boss is a burden.”
The scenery was no more pleasant than the last time he’d followed her home, but now Tom found his steps easing as he walked, his shoulders falling back, body disarmed. It was… nice to talk to someone so openly. He never would have imagined he needed it.
“Well, this is it,” she said as they stopped in front of her building. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, her girlish joy forgotten. “Not all that glamorous, I know.”
“Compared to my hotel, it’s palatial.”
She chuckled. “So I suppose by now you’ve seen everything Rome has to offer, good and bad.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ve seen everything yet,” said Tom with a subtle smirk.
She looked into his eyes and understood enough to blush. He held her gaze, ready for the slightest opening, anything she was willing to give him.
“Erm, do you know your way back?”
His eyes narrowed. She wasn’t going to invite him upstairs? But he’d been so good to her… And he was certain she was attracted to him. The whole reason why he’d asked her on a date and walked her to her squalid home was to seduce her. And she wasn’t even interested?!
“Yes, I… think I’ll be alright.”
“Good, well… Good. So, erm, good night,” she smiled. “Thank you for walking me home. And for dinner.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” said Tom, taking her hand and bending for a kiss.
“Y-yes. Good night,” she said, again. “We’ll speak again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he nodded.
She cast him a parting glance before entering her building, the door closing with a wicked scratch of rust behind her. Tom waited until she was out of sight to sigh. So, no seducing her to make the whole process easier, no getting her on his side… He hadn’t dealt with bookish girls since Hogwarts, and he’d forgotten what a handful they were. She really was going to do everything by the rules.
IV
When he finally arrived back at his hotel and started to get ready for bed, he realised why she’d laughed at his choice of dinner. He parted his lips in a grimace and stared at himself in the mirror, an angry frown and shameful blush crawling on his face. He looked halfway between horrid and hilarious. His teeth were stained black as if he’d just crawled out of a swamp. The nero di seppia. The squid ink from his spaghetti had made his teeth black.
#Tom Riddle#Tom Riddle x reader#Tom Riddle x OC#Tom Riddle fanfiction#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#sswallow;fanfics#sswallow;made a thing#fanfic;englishclient
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Hello BPP,
I've been a BTS addict for more than a year now, and I'm trying to find the reason why me (a happily married and a mother of a wonderful teenage boy) became so obsessed with a boy group. Before my encounter with these young korean lads, I only bought albums from 5 artists: Enya (all of her albums, I 💖 her since 1995), Michael Jackson (some), Backstreet boys (sue me those were my teenage years), ABBA & QUEEN greatest hits. That's not much isn'it? But since 2023, I try to buy at least one BTS album every 6 months, and that in itself is HUGE for me. Why do I do that ? What do they do, more than others, to make me want to spend money on them?
I've never been interested in fan voting before and now, I try to vote everytime I can. Even I find myself insane, but I can't help it. I want to support them all the way... 🤯
At first my husband thought my obsession was temporary, but after a year, despite of making fun of me, he's trying to find BTS albums or else for me (what a sweetheart 🥰). He supports me but doesn't understand it either.
So a simple question : what make BTS so addictive?
Their stage presence, charisma, uniqueness, talent ?
For a few weeks I tried to come up with a clear answer but I can't formulate it... daeng...
According to you, what distinguesh them from others groups or artists ?
Bisous et heureuse de vous lire!
***
You have no idea how happy it made me to read you love Enya as well. That woman is a timeless treasure. And yeah she's one of the few artists aside from BTS whose music I've invested time and money into collecting.
Part of what you're asking is: what makes us spend money, time, resources, emotional labour, and more, on seven men halfway (maybe?) across the ocean from us?
"Even I find myself insane, but I can't help it. I want to support them all the way..."
Maybe we are insane. What's so wrong with that? Maybe we're kinda nuts to be so taken by these seven guys. So what?
Or maybe we're just suckers for good marketing. I know I am. Of course, other things matter as well but good marketing is something that BTS has down pat. It's kinda easy for them too because the guys are as authentic as they come around these parts. They're solid. There's no other group that could withstand the kind of scrutiny they're under without bucking. Not one. And incidentally BTS' musical talent is peerless.
So, yeah, the marketing. :)
Or maybe it's the fandom... That's the thing about fandoms - the reason fandoms exist is not for the idol, but for other fans. 90% of what people do here is discuss what other fans are doing. Not the music, not the performance, not even the idol themselves, but other fans doing fuck all. I'm not saying this to indict you. My point is that there is constant covert persuasion within the fandom to act like the rest of the group a.k.a. ARMYs. I keep saying fandom is a pressure cooker environment, and one way that shows up is covertly forming behaviours in people within the shared space/group, and if you haven't experienced being in big fandoms before it will be overwhelming. If you constantly see people who express their love for BTS by buying albums routinely, then it's easy to see how you might want to try it for yourself.
Because you do love BTS. At the end of the day, that's what it comes down to. I don't care to try to explain why. At least not for me. It might be their "stage presence, charisma, uniqueness, talent" as you said, or maybe they're just worth the love by being themselves and giving us the music and experiences they have so far.
I still get fever dreams remembering Agust D on tour last year, you know. I still remember what it felt like to hear his music live and see him perform. He was a beast. Buying his music sounds like a no brainer lol. And he's just one of seven similarly talented men together in one group. Their music is worthy of every award it ever gets. And their performances...
youtube
(There isn't a single group active today that has surpassed this video)
I've said before I followed BTS for years before calling myself an ARMY. Sometimes when I think about it, I'd been buying their albums regularly since 2015 - three years before I started calling myself a fan of BTS. Their music was just so good I couldn't ignore it. And this is when for most groups I'm so picky with buying albums.
I have to commend you for critically assessing (sort of) your desire to spend on BTS though. If we're indeed insane as we said above, it's better to be self-aware of the fact. So again, kudos for attempting to dissect what's really happening here. But, not to be preachy, I think it's important to also just let yourself enjoy things. If spending on BTS is coming ahead of meeting your basic needs and responsibilities, then listen to your gut and pull back. Go cold turkey if you need to and spend on nothing at all. But if that's not your experience, (and I don't think it is), then just let yourself enjoy loving them. In that case, it's enough to know BTS are phenomenal artists and good people who make us happy, and some of us have the desire, means and time to support them, and that's okay.
Isn't it enough that you enjoy BTS for whatever reason and want to sustain this thing you enjoy by investing into it? So long as you're prudent and resourceful? Or maybe... not? Nobody else's opinion matters anyway. It's your money and your time and you know best how to use it.
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10, 18, 21 for fic asks!
thank you lola!
10. What's your favorite part about the fic writing process?
answered here but an additional answer is that moment when you're really in the zone and the words just start flowing and don't stop. feels like you've been blessed by the writing gods
18. Are there any fics or authors that have been particularly influential or inspiring to you?
of course! @lire-casander, @marjansmarwani, @reyesstrand and @sunshinestrand were among the first writers i came into contact with when i began reading and writing lone star fic and they all continually inspire me; the conversations i have with @tarlos-spain are amazing, vicky is a gem for helping me out of writing ruts and we've co-written together a bunch; @strandnreyes, @liminalmemories21, @maxbegone and of course you, lola, are all amazing writers i've met along the way and though we may not talk i am absolutely inspired by the incredible things you all write 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
21. Have you ever used fanfiction as a way to explore your own emotions or personal experiences?
constantly lmao. most of my darker fics (i.e. quédate, anything that deals with suicide, self-harm, depression etc) have at the very least elements that were pulled from personal experience, but usually it's me just projecting every single part of myself onto the characters. life i a bitch, but it does make for good fic inspiration.
questions for fic writers!
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hey dude! just discovered your blog and think its great. just wondering when the shawn mendes story will be posted? no rush tho. 😊❤️
02 / 02 / 2023
🇬🇧🇺🇸 ENGLISH / ANGLAIS 🇺🇸🇬🇧
ASK ANSWERED
First of all thank you for telling me that my blog is awesome. Do not hesitate to like and comment on my stories, so that I feel supported and that I keep the desire to write on this blog. ☺️ This kind of compliment makes me happy and encourages me, and I like knowing which stories my readers like best, and what they liked about my stories.
Concerning the one on Master SHAWN MENDES - in front of whom I prostrate myself like the loser that I am in front of his immense beauty - it is being written. However, more stories about famous alpha males will be coming soon as I had been getting requests for a long time and I had many at the same time.
The story about His Highness Shawn Mendes, praise be to Him, is taking me longer to write because I'm hesitant to make it a standalone story or a story that, as I announced, would be set chronologically before the story requested by my friend @fartsandotherstink (in which Master Shawn Mendes met Masters Nick Jonas and Tom Holland).
If I write about Shawn Mendes independently from that about him with the other two famous alpha males, Shawn Mendes will be shown as a man who is certainly authoritative, dominant and sublime (because that is how I imagine him, apart from his humor and his charisma), but he will also have another characteristic, which I will surprise you with.
While waiting to be able to read my story (and I know I'm taking time, I apologize once again), I'll give the floor to His Serene Highness the magnificent Shawn Mendes, our master to all.
SHAWN MENDES: "I know you're dying to worship me, loser! You're just a fagot who dreams of breathing my body! Today I'm giving you a gift: here are my armpits! Sniff them! Yes That's how it is! You're just a fag in love with my armpits and you're going to prove your love to them by sucking in all the smell! Yeah, fags like you are so funny, so easy to manipulate! You're my slave from now on !"
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🇨🇵 FRANÇAIS / FRENCH 🇨🇵
ASK ANSWERED
Tout d'abord merci de me dire que mon blog est génial. N'hésite pas à liker et commenter mes histoires, afin que je me sente soutenue et que je garde l'envie d'écrire sur ce blog. ☺️
Ce genre de compliment me fait plaisir et m'encourage, et j'aime savoir les histoires que mes lecteurs préfèrent, et ce qu'ils ont aimés dans mes histoires.
Concernant celle sur Maître SHAWN MENDES -devant qui je me prosterne comme le loser que je suis face à son immense beauté - elle est en cours d'écriture. Cependant, d'autres histoires sur des mâles alpha célèbres ne vont pas tarder à arriver avant car j'avais reçu des requêtes depuis longtemps et j'en ai eu beaucoup en même temps.
L'histoire sur Son Altesse Shawn Mendes, loué soit-Il, me prend plus de temps à écrire car j'hésite à en faire une histoire indépendante ou une histoire qui, comme je l'avais annoncé, serait situé chronologiquement avant l'histoire demandée par mon ami @fartsandotherstink (dans laquelle Maître Shawn Mendes rencontra les Maîtres Nick Jonas et Tom Holland).
Si j'écris sur Shawn Mendes de manière indépendante à celle sur lui avec les deux autres mâles alphas célèbres, Shawn Mendes sera montré comme un homme certes autoritaire, dominant et sublime (car c'est ainsi que je l'imagine, en dehors de son humour et de son charisme), mais il aura aussi une autre caractéristique, dont je vous réserve la surprise.
En attendant de pouvoir lire mon histoire (et je sais que je prends du temps, je m'en excuse une fois de plus), je vais laisser la parole à son Altesse Sérénissime le magnifique Shawn Mendes, notre maître a tous.
SHAWN MENDES : "Je sais que tu meurt d'envie de me vénérer, loser ! Tu n'es qu'un pédé qui rêve de respirer mon corps ! Aujourd'hui je te fait un cadeau : voilà mes aisselles ! Renifle les ! Oui voilà comme ça ! Tu n'es qu'un pédé amoureux de mes aisselles et tu vas leur prouver ton amour en aspirant bien toute l'odeur ! Ouais, les pédés comme toi sont si drôles, si faciles à manipuler ! Tu es mon esclave désormais !"
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@shawnmendesupdates @goonerpup @alphamalesuperiority @celebritymasters @leftprogrammingroadtripdean @tidodore2 @shawnmendesgallery
#Request#Requête#Histoire fictive personnelle#Humilié par une célébrité#Humiliated by a celebrity#Shawn Mendes#Farts#Feet#Tom Holland#Nick Jonas#Chanteur#Singer#Pets#Pieds#Alpha male celeb#Mâle alpha célèbre
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Summary:
When Tyler's memories come back to him, Owen realizes he hasn't been father of the year with TK. He needs to get his son back, talk to him and apologize for the past few months and years.
But TK has other problems when Enzo shows up on his doorstep, puts Jonah in his arms and tells him he's not ready to be a father. Suddenly TK and Carlos become fathers and TK loses one of his father figures.
That will only be the beginning.
Pairing: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Adknowledgement: Thanks to @lire-casander this story won't be here without your help, @morganaspendragonss, helping me with English and @chaotictarlos, yes this is one of you're fantastic edits.
Chapter 01:
He had only been gone twenty-four hours, but Owen felt like everything had changed when he returned to Austin. He felt he had failed TK as a father by speaking to his own father and telling him everything he had lost when they had been separated.
Remembering his dead brother, remembering all that he could have done differently to avoid what had happened to him, and being aware that he had never told TK where his name came from, made him put things in perspective about himself and his relationship with his son.
The last few months, from the fire in which he had almost lost TK to even Sadie's attack, it could be said that he had not been the father of the year; and abandoning TK to go to the mountains when his son probably needed him the most had not been his best gesture.
He had to change it, he had to talk to TK and apologize. He had to get him to listen to him, because he knew his son. TK would never hold anything against him and if he tried, like the day before, to tell him he was sorry, TK would change the conversation.
TK Strand hated direct confrontation and possibly in that too he was very much to blame because little TK had heard many arguments between his mother and him, and he knew how things had ended in their marriage.
He wanted to do it now, he knew it was TK's day off and Carlos was working, so he had a few hours to spend with TK at home and force him to listen to him. He had too much to tell him, too many things to fix.
He rang the doorbell, an elderly lady had let him in, but he heard no noise inside.
"TK!" He waited again and knocked on the door with his knuckles. "TK, it's Dad."
He looked at his cell phone; maybe he had told him he was going out, but there was no message.
He didn't want to call Carlos or text him telling him that TK wasn't answering at home because he didn't want to worry him. Besides, he had a key to the loft. He had never used it and in a normal situation would not allow himself to open it without permission from his son or Carlos.
He only had it for emergencies, it was the deal he had with TK when he had promised not to tell Carlos anything about how close he had come to using again the day after Gwyn's death.
"I don't tell Carlos anything, but you have to give me a key to your apartment in case something happens."
"I'm not going to..."
"I know, but you never know."
It made him uneasy to think that he might have used that key the night Sadie had attacked the boys. If only he'd had his instincts more ready, if only he hadn't been so focused on that crooked cop.
There had been a misfortune about to happen and the key he now held in his hand could have prevented it.
"TK, you know I have a key, I'm going to use it because I'm worried."
Again, the lack of response was all he needed to open the door without asking any more questions.
The loft was silent, dark and as if no one was there. He walked a few steps and called back to his son. everything was fine, it didn't look like anyone had forced the door open, everything was in its place and a lump on the couch caught his attention.
TK was lying there, curled up and looked asleep, although at first and with TK's experience, for a moment he stopped breathing, he got closer and checked that he was breathing, he didn't have a fever, he just looked asleep.
But when he got a little closer, he realized he was wincing in pain.
Keep Reading in AO3
#tarlos#lonestar#911#9 1 1 lone star#9-1-1 lone star#carlos reyes#tk strand#911 lone star#family#son#parents#angst
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3am;
Mun; You don't think this is real then?
Alfred; It's not...it is and it's not, it's not the same.
Mun; this makes no sense, you constantly badger on how he's never to doubt you but all you is doubt him? Like seriously give him a break it's new Alf.
Alfred; is it? Tell me, what has he to love?
Mun; everything!
Alfred; I feel like im blinding myself with a lie and hoping I never open my eyes.
Mun; but why? You say you love him, you have letters and notes, messages and a ten page long damn speech for the wedding but you sit here telling me you don't think it's real? None of it?
Alfred; how can I? I feel like there's something I cant give enough to understand it. I can only question what I know and it's nothing.
Mun; HE AGREED TO MARRY YOU HOW THE HELL IS THAT NOTHING?
Alfred; Thats based on more than this, there's so much history to unpack here that I fear I've pushed something, I'm mirroring emotions into him that...he shouldn't be forced in him to give back.
Mun; Alf for fucks sake, why in the name of Lucifer do you not understand? What don't you understand? Is his word not enough for you or something? I feel he's going to be a bit upset if you drop this in his face and ask 'oh btw I think you only agreed to marry me because you feel guilty that I'm in love with you'
Alfred; THEN GIVE ME AN ANSWER! WHAT AM I SUPPOSE TO FEEL?
Mun; ....
Alfred; I know how to love him with everything I am I swear but...I don't know how to know this...I feel like I'm drowning in it and I can't think, I can't focus, I can't...I don't know this, I don't think I know love...
Mun; You've had plenty of relationships Alf...you must-
Alfred; based on what? Are you telling me that...that pain, that...was love?
Mun; Jack...only wanted you for sex and when he didn't get it, abused you, Natalie wasnt really a romance, she was just a fast fuck when the adrenaline got high, Mc Gregor lired you into his bed with talk of dinners and a new life, used you for sex and shot you...by accident yes but still, you just became his toy..."
Alfred; When you put it like that I sound like right push over *laughs*
Mun; but it's not funny, because even with the few after all that, it was just sex...you've never had a bond with someone like you had with Gareth before all this came out, you've built everything in this relationship on passing fancy not knowing, the flirting, the casual oral sex that you never attached an emotion too because you didn't want to fall for what Matthews told you...you haven't known the depth behind how someone can love you outside of the bedsheets and that kinda awful...your afraid he's not going like what he sees...
Alfred; and I can't give that here, I can't be Beagle anymore, there's none of that left to love...I can't stand up on my own anymore for one.
Mun; there plenty to love, you just refuse to look...you just...refuse...oh god.
Alfred; what?
Mun; you don't understand love because you can't see how to love yourself...you doubt the man you want to be and doubt everything else because you don't trust yourself...you don't love yourself.
Alfred; *sad whine* Nope.
Mun; I don't even know how to begin to try...
Alfred; Don't...I don't even think there's a begining to even try...
Mun; Alf trust something...please, just one thing.
Alfred; fine what?
Mun; trust me when I tell you, things will feel hard now and It's going to take the past to remind you, but Gareth is going to be the one that shows you, what it means to love and be loved, this is what they mean when people say love is war because it's honestly gruesome when you lay it out raw, trust me Alf, things are going to be different this time, forget everything you know and hold on. There's a reason you've put a ring on this one.
#mr007pennyworth#bvs verse (irons)#v; give me one more night to ruin my life again#(note; not hc for any other verses because alfred 100% knows Wendy loves him)#dontcxckitup#ship; alf x gareth#ooc; its 3am and alfred is in pain again#ooc; scheduled post because i refuse to block the dash at 3am like fuck#ooc; alfreds fears of not beinging enough and then fears that not getting over it will make him lose gareth#ooc; this muse is going to kill me semd help like now fuck#ooc; gareth do you know this idiot cries himself to sleep with thinking about how much he loves you#ooc; if you didnt you fucking know now jesus#ooc; if you didnt read the tags your missing out on why gareth shouldn't be mad#ooc; okay maybe for like a hot minute but this old bastard is trying damn it#ooc; here he goes again thinking he needs to protect gareth from everything even himself#ooc; i need this ship like i need air ffs
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Rated M
Warnings: Angst, Implied Depression, Death, Violence, Swearing, and Implied Bullying
“Oh come on, it’s obvious. You have a thing for Melone.” Sorbet said playfully while nuzzling under Gelato’s head. Ilona blushed and hid their face in their paws, “No way, it’s never going to work out! After all, he’s probably not interested in me like that!”
“You never know until you try.”
“But what if-”
“Listen, Il. Promise us to at least try to talk to him?” Ilona looked down nervously, Gelato gingerly lifted Ilona’s chin. “And if he breaks your heart, we will twist his arms for you.” Sorbet reeled in Gelato slowly back to his side, “Or… treating them the medicine for all broken hearts.” A small breathy chuckle came out of Ilona’s mouth, “Sorbet, you liar. I know you would never spend a single lire on me.”
“I know, but this time it’ll be different. I promise.”
XXX
1999, a day after Sorbet and Gelato’s service, Ilona stayed in their room mourning their loss. They had put 3 euros next to some of Sorbet’s belongings on his night stand. Ilona turned around and sigh, “You were wrong Sorbet, I told you so. Here’s some money for that gelato.” Ilona clicked the lock inside the door, taking a good long look at the room one last time, they silently said goodbye before closing it. They could feel the tightness in their chest. Was this really what it was like to be full members of the mafia? Then again it made sense, they stepped out of line and they were punished. But this was far worse than normal torture. The way they died was like something out of a horror film, Ilona could only imagine how afraid for their lives they must have been.
A small hiccup of air came out of their mouth as they walked towards the group. “Door’s closed, now what?” Ilona squeaked, Risotto pats their head as a sign of approval. “There’s nothing we can do.” Prosciutto jeered, “We just keep our heads down, until then don’t cause any trouble.” Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Ghiaccio. Ghiaccio balled up his fists, the room got colder as he gritted his teeth. La Squadra knew he wanted to freeze something, punch a wall, or scream at the top of his lungs. But he didn’t, instead he unclenched his fist and briskly walked out of the room. Ilona looked on in worry, was this how it was all going to end? This feeling happened once before, but why did it hurt so much more? Is it because they knew them well? This was the first time they had felt something more than pain.
XXX
Mostaccioli and Radicchio followed Ilona to the edge of Napoli where they were face to face with a hidden door on a brick building with a sign reading ‘Libeccio’. Mostaccioli scratched his head in confusion, “Really, you want to have a meal now?”
“No you dummy, there’s a guy here who could possibly help. And honestly I hate to do this.”
The duo looked confused, but then Radicchio realized who they meant and quickly blocked the door. “No, you’re not going in there.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Ilona, Buccirati’s dead.”
“Fat chance, that’s impossible!” Ilona tried to shove their way past but Mostaccioli caught on and tugged their coat collar back, “Possible, he’s been dead since he betrayed the boss.” Ilona looked back up at him confused, “Bruno Buccirati, the man who killed my friends is dead? Who told you this?”
“It made the news 2 weeks ago, Bruno Buccirati was found dead in the Roman Colosseum.” Ilona slumped over, their one and only chance for answers gone before they even began.
The door to the restaurant opened with a waiter peeking from behind, “Hey, are you coming in or what, you fools are blocking the door.” The 3 of them reluctantly walked in and asked for a private table, Mostaccioli showed off his Passione badge. The waiter’s eyes widened, “I didn’t know he was expecting guests, please right this way.” The waiter guided them to the back room where a group of people were sitting; a boy with light hair and holes in his jacket, a guy with a hat, and another young man with golden hair. Ilona immediately recognized the guy with the hat as Guido Mista, but did not recognize the other two. “Well well, the infamous rabid monster of the assassins. It’s been a hot minute.” The golden haired boy raised an eyebrow in confusion, “You know them?”
“Yeah, don’t worry Giorno. They’re a good guy, right? No hard feelings?” Ilona looked away rubbing their arm, they silently went to sit at the table and motioned Radicchio and Mostaccioli to do the same. But as Ilona pulled out their chair they saw a turtle. “Oh, sorry little guy. I didn’t know this was your spot.”
“That’s alright.” said the turtle. “Whoa, a talking turtle! It’s like one of those cartoons on TV. You know, like the ones named after famous Italian artists?” Radicchio punched Mostaccioli’s arm.
“That’s Coco Jumbo, and the voice who spoke is a soul named Polnareff.” Mista replied, Ilona gingerly handed him Coco Jumbo and sat down properly in their chair. They looked up at the boys across the table and calmly began to speak, “My name is Ilona Liquirizia, I’m known in Passione’s underworld as the Executioner's Rabid Monster. I was an unofficial passione affiliate and lived alongside La Squadra di Esecuzioni.” Giorno furrowed his brow, Ilona continued, “They were killed by the late Buccirati and his men. I’m not sure if you are aware of this fact as a fellow affiliate of the syndicate.” Giorno nodded, “I am, We were there when most of them happened.” Ilona’s heart began to pound fast as a rush of anxiety flew through them. “Although I did not know about you. Why did you not go after the boss’s daughter?” Ilona clenched their fists, “I was ordered not to get involved, for safety precautions.”
“I see, and why should I care? They were vile men who were blood thirsty for money and glory, they betrayed the famiglia.” The air of arrogance from this Giorno made Ilona’s blood boil.
With a deep breath, Ilona gave an answer, “They were my family and they deserve better.” The light haired boy stood up from his seat with fury in his eyes, “They deserve nothing, they were psychotic murderers. Only wanting to kidnap the boss’s daughter for their own benefit! We were terrorized by them for 2 days straight, from morning til night with no rest in between!” Ilona slammed their paws on the table, tears began to well up, “They were desperate! How would you feel if you were working hard and all they gave you was lint and a button? Because that’s what happened. And the one time we tried doing anything; it cost us 2 members to be captured, cut up like a Christmas cake, and the body sent to our house in 36 containers with a little card saying ‘Punishment, this could be you’!” Radicchio and Mostaccioli grabbed Ilona on either side and tried to sit them down.
“Well that’s the life of a mafioso, deal with it!”
“Fugo, that’s enough.” Giorno chimed in, “Clearly, you have a lot of feelings towards them. I respect that, but it doesn’t explain why you decided to come here.” Ilona looked back up, trying their best to regain composure. “I want the money that the boss was withholding from us, some form of compensation as my own vengeance, because right now La Squadra died for no reason. But I heard from these two that the boss was replaced.” Radicchio and Mostaccioli watched on with extreme caution, something about this Giorno guy seemed very suspicious. Giorno then asked Mista to give him the turtle, grabbed a large suitcase from the turtle’s back, and placed it on the table. The entire room fell silent, Radicchio and Mostaccioli were almost about to scream, Mista and Fugo looked very distraught, and Ilona couldn’t help but hold back tears.
“According to the records we were able to recover from Diavolo’s backlogs, he was giving them 10% of their actual worth. This is 25 million euros, half of what we had left for La Squadra’s payment.”
“What happened to the rest of the cash?” Ilona asked, Giorno looked to the side in shame, “He used it to fund the former Sezione Droghe and their endeavors. I’m very sorry.”
“Hang on a second!” Radicchio yelled, “Just how did you get that money, who do you think you are?” Giorno looked at the group with a very warm yet serious look in his eyes, “My name is Giorno Giovanna, I’m the don of Passione.”
#jjba#la squadra#my fic#after the golden wind#ilona liquirizia#jjba oc#angst#tw mental health#cw mental health#tw implied depression#cw implied depression#tw swearing#cw swearing#canon divergent#cw death#tw death#giorno giovanna#mista guido#pannacotta fugo
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E, J, U?
E: What character do you identify with most? Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?
It depends on the fandom, and it depends on the day. Although I'd never felt so pulled towards a character as I did with Alex Manes (RNM), it's true that I see myself a lot in Carlos Reyes (911LS). Lately I've been watching a lot of a Spanish show called 4 Estrellas and I see myself in at least two characters: Luz and Javier.
Funny thing is that, although I see myself a lot in Carlos, the fic that best represents me is actually a fic about TK's past and his mental state: from wedding bells to private hells (to fresh new starts and wish you wells)
J: What’s your favorite fanfic trope? Have you written it?
You know, I discovered what tropes were very late in fandom. I think my favorite one is enemies to lovers, idiots in love, fake dating and being the last ones to find out they're in love.
I'm pretty sure I've written them in one way or the other a lot of times, but right now only a handful come to mind!
recipe for disaster (what’s in your heart) - RNM, Princess Diaries AU, idiots in love
forever in a second too short (home is a heartbeat) - 911LS, Marry Me AU, fake dating
Is there another example for my fave tropes? Probably. Do I remember writing it? Probably not...
U: Is there a pairing you would like to write, but haven’t tried yet?
Right now, Gregory/Jeanine from Abbott Elementary and Christa/Neal from Code Black. And that's because, although I haven't given up on writing, I'm taking things slow.
ask me any of these fanfic writer's asks!
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WIP Tag Game
First of all, biggest thanks to @lightningboltreader, @heartstringsduet, @carlos-tk, @bonheur-cafe, @panther-os, @carlos-in-glasses, @whatsintheboxmh, and @bonheur-cafe for tagging me in this game and/or in WIP Wednesday. Since I've been taking a small break from writing after the Christmas madness, I don't have anything new. I was also hesitant to join this round since I still have some old asks in my inbox... but now I'm sick and bed-bound, so I have all the time in the world, and I guess it's a good time to get back into writing and answering all the asks (new ones and old ones) over the next few days. So... here we go 😊
This is not my full list of WIPs but the other day, @sgirl18 forced me to clean out my WIP folder. So this is the list of fics I think have a realistic chance of being written this year 😅 (but please don't hold me to that, lol)
For those of you who are looking for my Titanic AU - please don't worry, that fic is just so big it has its own folder. But you're more than welcome to ask me about it as well 🥰
Since I love these games, feel free to ask about more than just one fic - I really need motivation to get back into writing 😘
open tag for everyone plus my cleaned-up tag list under the cut - if you would like to be added to the list, lemme know
Noxy’s Tagging List:
@bonheur-cafe, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk, @detective-giggles, @firstprince-history-huh, @heartstringsduet, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @lightningboltreader, @lire-casander, @rangergurlgleek1211, @reasonandfaithinharmony, @sgirl18, @shadesofdeviant, @whatsintheboxmh
rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
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Death Blow
>"Sale, you wouldn't even know what to do with the money. Do you even have a crew of your own? What could two low-level crooks possibly hope to accomplish with 5 billion lire?"
"...A hitman! And if you two idiots want to make it out of this car unharmed, you WILL send me the results of your search. Understood? (5 billion might work as a suitable token for the others)"
______________________________________________________________
>"I see you glancing towards the side. You don't find the joke very funny?"
"Do not lie, Formaggio. It is beneath you."
"Who me? Carry on, you two."
>"...Shut up. Shut up! Everyone, shut the hell up...! SHUT THE FUCK UP EVERYONE!! I can't... Hear..."
>"Aw... Little Narancia. But this is certainly a... unique way of killing someone. I'm sure a certain doctor over on the special unit would be proud with that idea!"
"...Alright, alright, geez! I was just making a suggestion, you two!"
>"This isn't my battle, so I have no reason to find Trish Una. Here, take this!"
"How're you going to explain this to your capo... Still, I hope that we aren't enemies once we meet again. Bye, Narancia!"
______________________________________________________________>"Ooo, let me see! ...Yo, just HOW DID you get all this info?! Show me Leone's next!"
>"Bro! Stop lying to yourself! We don't need two masochists on this group!"
>"Motherfucker, I asked you first! You can't claim any kind of superiority, can you?! This is exactly why I hate you, Leone... Can you not be so fucking difficult for once, you dick, and answer my question?!"
______________________________________________________________>"Here's my 2 cents now that he's gone: It's all a bunch of bullshit. He can run his mouth all he wants, but the truth is, there's nothing else that separates us, besides our own standards... The gap that divides us assassins, and the common filth that prowl the streets is just that; a gap in the canyon. And Prosciutto doesn't like to admit it, but for all his talk of the gap, he implies that, to mature, you have to fall into the gap... You have to lose your standards to regain them, and to become stronger. But don't take it from me, I see it all the time, and it happens to the best of people..."
>"Uh... Let me see. ...Um, Pesci? Prosciutto's nowhere to be found-"
"I knew you had in in you!! Okay, I've got it! I'll go look for Bucciarati and the others, while you and Beach Boy finish the deed on my shout! See ya Pesci!"
>"I have no interest in seeing the little fisherman grow up. Snuff them out quickly, you two, and let's hurry up and claim Trish Una before the day ends. But first... some ice cream?"
>"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a stereotypical rich boy? Probably not, right? But you sure as hell don't act like one, that's for sure."
>"Okay, this guy is called Krow, and his level is titled 'Krow's Nest'. As expected, he's only the first boss. The eggs are most likely from a divorce. Again, since he's the first boss in the game, he doesn't have anything really noteworthy, but pay close attention to him as he's defeated. Did you notice the thing leaving the body? Correct, that's the soul of Krow. Do you think we'll encounter it later on? ...Bucciarati, are you even listening to me?
"...Oh, right, I should head back. It wouldn't do good for us if I stayed here any longer. Byeeee, Bucciarati!"
>No no, you're fine. I'm not interested in the girl now. Here you are, one little guy! See ya never!"
______________________________________________________________
>"Hehe. You really think they are, Melo? Actually, don't answer that, do you have any pills on hand? As it turns out, not even Proscuitto's immune to the despair of death..."
>"Hey, Melo, which one do you think would go best in beating the Champion?"
"Oh. Oops."
>"Hey, Giovanna. I just noticed, looking at your Stand... Were you the one that killed Polpo, indirectly of course?"
"I'm not really gonna use that answer for anything, I'm just curious."
______________________________________________________________
>"Oh, you've just reminded me. I need to go return the copy of 'Death In'-Actually, it may be best if I don't finish that title."
>"Come now, hurry up! You need to go after them! Hurry Ghiaccio! Run run run! Wheeeee!"
______________________________________________________________>"Look, I'd love to watch you two make out in public, but we have men to hunt down. But, just in case... Can you keep the white-haired man alive, and bring him to me? The goth one, yes."
>"Not cool. And why is there only 5 of you with the girl now? What happened to, oh what was his name, Fugo? Why is he not with you?"
______________________________________________________________
>"You all can go shoot my hands off if you want, my Stand is only focused on my fists, if that helps. And I can't keep vouching on my own innocence, so I'll just hang back here."
>"You know, Trish, maybe if we, my men, I mean, were more thorough in our search, this wouldn't have happened... Oh, don't look so surprised. But that's all in the past. And one of us, Nero, is already heading to Sardegna right now. He thinks I died alongside the other guys, and wishes to avenge us all. And the little underboss is heading there as well, under orders. They are, admittedly, not important to me. Not ever. But I do not want to know if they would attempt to kill the other as penance. If I'm there, they'd hold off on attacks, and the underboss is my ex-boyfriend as well, so he wouldn't want to kill me if he was ordered to do so. We all have to go to Sardegna for our own goals, but to think that reducing Carne from the Special Unit into a pincushion would bring this disaster to you all. Well... I'll go head to the cockpit."
>"Yeah, I should leave here. Hope we'll never see each other again, Bucciarati and friends! Wahoooooo!"
______________________________________________________________
>"Nero... I get it, but you yourself seem... heavier now. Is my guess on where you came from correct? You of all people, too... Why do you look so sad?"
>"I see, and where and what time should I go when you call? ...Ah, okay. That works. Thanks Nero."
>"Doppio... Ugh, what IS that smell?! And what happened to Nero... Urgh, get away from me! And for the love of sardines, take a goddamned shower!"
"NO! SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! WE ARE SO NOT GETTING BACK TOGETHER AFTER THIS!!"
______________________________________________________________
>"Huh, so it does follow the slightest descent. Oopsie! That was useless!"
>"Doppio...? *sigh* Look, I meant what I said. I don't even think I find you the least bit attractive. Never have, never will."
______________________________________________________________
>"Hey... What gives? I was enjoying myself in there. Can you put me back in... whatever that was?"
"Let's see... It was dark, and like I was drowning in ink. But it felt so peaceful... I heard the voices of my men in there, talking to me as if their heart still beat. The nine of the great hitmen, whom I thought didn't care of me at all, talking to me about mundane things... And Doppio, I heard him as well, his gentle voice as if I didn't say that I never liked him at all... The only thing that would've completed it... would be Big Sis's voice again too. Why did you pull me back out here? Hello, Giorno?"
#dialogue is fun#dialogue#wisp rambles#wisp writes#paulla izza/billie jean ojiro#vento aureo#jjba oc#jjba original character#denial
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Acosmist - Moonknight
XIII. Deals.
Masterlist
Part 13
Rest of my work.
Warnings: None.
Lucilla begins to talk with Harrow about their next steps.
Deals are what the Gods usually make to benefit themselves. Typically, they never included the avatar's best interests unless the deal is made whilst the avatar is on the brink of death. The reason for that is quite obvious. It was even more peculiar if the deal included other humans that are or were completely oblivious to the Egyptian Gods' existence.
This was what made the deal Antony Huffman made with Ptah ever so interesting to Arthur Harrow.
"What do you mean that they don't make those kind of deals?" Lucilla questioned the older man in a hurry. She tried ever so hard not to let her eyes wander on the God behind Harrow.
"I'm not sure," Harrow explained slowly. He moved his hands to rest upon the table, close to the edge. "Can I test something?" His hands moved to lay palms-up in the middle of the two. Lucilla carefully placed her hands into Harrow's. It was weird to hold hands with a stranger but the girl didn't focus on that. Instead, the unusual weighing scale tattoo on Harrow's are begins to tilt from side to side.
"What are you doing?" She inquired. Lucilla wanted to take her hands away from Harrow's for her safety but the possibility of it altering something confused her more. The man before her held his eyes closed but as Lucilla pulled her hands from his, his eyes snapped open almost instantly.
"Interesting," Harrow hummed, completely unaffected by Lucilla's actions. "Your scales don't fall either way." Like most people, Lucilla had zero idea what Harrow was going on about and she had no clue what these scales were. She didn't want to ask about it either. The less Lucilla knew the better. "But that may explain it," he points towards the scar on the girl's forearm. The exact scar Harrow questioned the girl about just the day before: The Ankh Djed-pillar.
Lucilla moved back to hold her arm before the two as she tried to figure out what Harrow was on about. "The origin of this was not at a party." Harrow explained, "do you recall the true origin?" He could easily see through Lucilla's lies. That part was obvious with how little he believed her lie about the Scar.
"No.." She shrugged, just like she did talking to Harrow yesterday about the scars but this time didn't cover with a lire. "I don't remember much about them, not even when I first noticed I had it." That wasn't a lie. To Lucilla during the past few years, the scars on her arm had always been there. She couldn't pinpoint when or where they first appeared.
"Interesting," Harrow hummed again. "Death and internal life all in one. I'm surprised Osiris himself didn't choose you to be his avatar."
"Death?" Lucilla questioned. She hadn't heard the relation to death before. The countless days the girl had spent trying to look for an answer she had read almost everything but that.
"The djed-pillar was used as an amulet on mummies so they can present themselves in front of Osiris," Harrow explained. "You truly are a mystery Ms Spector, one not even I can decipher. But this is the doing of the gods in some form." His hands moved to point at the scars as Lucilla's eyes wandered behind Harrow to Ptah.
The God stood tall behind Harrow but no shift in movement. Neither did Ptah speak a word. There was a large possibility that he did know about the scar more than Lucilla did but there was also a large possibility that they didn't. Besides if he did know there was no way the god would tell her anything like that anyways. They had no need to. It was something for Lucilla to discover herself, even if it meant that the God's end of the deal wasn't upheld.
Harrow caught her gaze and glanced behind himself at where the God should be standing for Lucilla and turned back to the girl.
"Ptah cannot be the source of all the answers." Harrow explained softly, bringing Lucilla's attention back on himself as if he was reading her mind. "I can help you," he nodded slowly.
"After I help you with your business?" The girl finished what Harrow was going to say. She knew his ideas already. "I thought me coming here was your answer," her eyes locked onto Harrow as she led back in her arms with her arms crossed.
Arthur, however, exhaled deeply before grabbing the walking stick beside him. "Everyone deserves opportunities to back out," He explained in a blank tone.
"I need answers, you need assistance in Cairo." Lucilla established, "besides, you'd be doing me a favour. I have business that needs attending to in Egypt."
"Then I believe we have a deal," Harrow smiled softly at the girl. His attention shifted over to a group of men walking past the duo. He didn't speak until they passed.
"We have a visitor arriving later tonight," Harrow shifted to his second point. "I would like you to speak to them before we leave in the morning."
"What visitor?" Lucilla inquired with her curiosity peaking.
"Your brother." Harrow answered, shifted in his position to push the chair back slightly before standing up. "I need your assistance in persuading him to help us."
Lucilla let out a forced laugh at Harrow's reasoning. Of course he wanted the girl only to get to Marc. "Great to know my purpose."
"I can assure you Ms. Spector, we did not request your help to recruit your brother," Harrow reasoned with the girl.
A pause of silence engulfed the two as Lucilla thought. Helping Harrow to persuade Marc in joining Harrow's mission could get her one step closer in moving away from Ptah but it could also mess everything up. Marc already seemed to have a strong opinion against Harrow, there was no way he'd give in without a fight. Steven on the other hand would be easier to persuade. It just depends if Layla got to them first.
"Marc isn't the easiest person to persuade to join you," Lucilla began to tell Harrow about Marc. "He'll never join you."
"We already suspect your brother won't allow us to proceed," Harrow agreed.
"I suggest talking to Steven. He doesn't know as much as Marc." Harrow slowly nodded at Lucilla's words.
"Thank you, Ms Spector." He thanked the girl with a smile. "If you wish to follow me we can get you a place to stay until we leave early in the morning."
Lucilla only nodded and stood up to follow the man back into the alleyway with her bag weakly resting on her shoulder. "Unfortunately the living arrangements here tend to avoid allowing one person to stay alone," Harrow began to explain the arrangement for Lucilla.
But as Harrow spoke Lucilla couldn't help to notice that as they walked throughout the street, there was eyes following their every move. Similar to her arrival, people just stood stationary to watch the girl pass by with Harrow. The most peculiar part of these people was that still acted as a singular person. They also all had a mark on their forearm, the same place Harrow had his however it was too dark and Lucilla was too far away to even make out the design.
"Jen's a great roommate," Harrow added to fill the silence. "We usually house people with her. She's a brilliant guide for the neighbourhood." He greeted people as they passed them.
"I'm sure she is," Lucilla agreed with not a care in the world about this Jen. There was no chance Lucilla would sleep so she'd probably never encounter this women more than once. She'd probably be strolling around the area instead.
"She's one of the few here that's aware of your deal with Ptah, so she won't be alarmed if you start talking to yourself." Harrow reassured Lucilla on a thought she wasn't even bothered about.
"That wouldn't be an issue. Ptah and I aren't on speaking terms."
"We're not here to question or judge. Simply just to help each other mutually." He reassured again, stopping shortly at a set of apartments.
Harrow approached the building's door and pressed a small buzzer besides it. It took a few minutes before the front door opened to reveal a young girl behind it. "Hello," She smiled in a strong Newcastle accent.
"Jen," Harrow smiled at the girl welcomingly. "This is Lucilla, the women I was talking to you about." He introduced Lucilla with a small nod of his head, leaving the girl to wave softly at the stranger.
"Lucilla, hi." Jen greeted, moving to open the door wider for the two adults to walk in further. Harrow walked in first, leaving Lucilla to walk in cautiously before Jen closed the door behind them.
Inside, the room was cosy but basic for a British apartment. There wasn't a lot of personal items but there were the odd photo of a family on a desk.
"I'm not sure how much Harrow has told you but just come to me with any questions," Jen explained. "Apart from showing you around the house, you're free to do whatever you want until we leave." Her smile never faltered as she moved towards the kitchen but paused before entering. "Does anyone want something to drink?"
"I'm okay, thank you Jen." Harrow declined the offer, "Lucilla?"
Lucilla simply shook her head, "No thanks."
"I guess I'll leave you guys to it then," Harrow began to bid the girl's goodbye. "I'm sure I'll see both of you in the morning."
#writing#fanfic#story#writeblr#hdsc-ace#am writing#storytelling#oc#writerblr#moonknight fanfiction#moonknight#marvel#marvelfanfic#fanfiction#steven grant#marc spector#khonshu#jake lockley#mr knight
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“Id rather not do this now”
“Yeah me too”
Rey asks him why he hated his father, then asks him to put on a shirt lol
I think people say that this is a joke like he was actually waiting there with his shirt off... I don't know about that but it would be pretty funny.
anyway Rey starts crying and says she needs an answer
Kylo says he didn't hate him
“then why” “why what” “why did you kill him”
Kylo starts talking about Reys parents and tells Rey his side of the story that Luke tried to kill him. Rey calls him a lire. Kylo wants her to let the past die.
I guess the reason he gives her is that he was trying to kill his weakness and let the past die?
EDIT: ok so I am piecing together this series of events and it seems like even though she accuses Kylo of lying it seems like his story did make an impression on her maybe it just needed to sink in.
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Hello, pourrais-tu écrire une histoire impliquant un candidat de télé-réalité très arrogant qui en humilie un autre plus faible devant les caméras, ce qui le rend populaire auprès du public et des productions ? Sinon, un souffre-douleur qui devient prof dans son ancien lycée et se fait bully par le directeur (un ancien bully), ses collèges masculins, les fils de ses anciens bully qu'il a comme élèves,... ? Merci pour le temps que tu passes à écrire !
07 / 09 / 2022
🇫🇷 FRANÇAIS / FRENCH 🇫🇷
Bonjour, merci beaucoup pour la demande. Ça me fait plaisir d'avoir des nouvelles de lecteurs. Je vais répondre à ta demande.
Pour ce qui est des candidats de télé réalité, j'en ai plusieurs en tête qui sont connus pour leur arrogance et leur masculinité toxique. J'ai parlé déjà de Jonathan Matijas et Adrien Laurent, les deux plus beaux mecs de télé-réalité française selon moi (avec Benji Samat), mais dit moi s'il y en a que tu préfère ou si tu me laisse carte blanche pour le choix du candidat de télé-réalité qui va être domi.
Tu as de bonnes suggestions d'histoires, mais le temps que j'écrive l'histoire que tu desires, permet moi de te suggérer des histoires qui se rapproche de tes envies. N'hésite pas à les commenter et liker pour que je sache ce que tu en as pensé. N'hésitez pas à le faire aussi mes chers lecteurs. Merci ! 😉
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🇺🇲🇬🇧 ENGLISH / ANGLAIS 🇬🇧🇺🇲
@zadigue asked me
"Hey could you write a story about TV reality contestant, a very arrogant one that humiliate a weak man in front of cameras just to be more popular for the fans and the production? Or else, maybe you could write about a beta sub that comes to be a teacher to his former high school and were he is humilated by his former bully, his colleagues, the students, the principal....? Thanks for the time you take to write all these stories !"
My answer is :
Hello, thank you very much for the request. It makes me happy to hear from readers. I will answer your request.
As for reality TV contestants, I have several in mind who are known for their arrogance and toxic masculinity. I've already talked in MAN OF THE DAY about JONATHAN MATIJAS and ADRIEN LAURENT, the two most handsome French reality TV guys in my opinion (with Benji Samat), but tell me if there are any you prefer or if you let me free to chose the one I want to humilate the loser.
You have good story suggestions, but while I'm writing the story you want, allow me to suggest stories that are close to your desires. Don't hesitate to comment and like them so that I know what you thought of them.
Don't hesitate to do that too dears readers. Thanks ! 😉
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🇫🇷 Si c'est une histoire où un faible mec est humilié par un professeur et un mec sexy, voici la fin d'une histoire en 3 parties, chacune peut se lire indépendamment :
🇬🇧🇺🇲 If it's a story where a weak guy is humiliated by a teacher and a hot guy, here is the end of a story in 3 parts, each can be read independently:
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🇫🇷 Si c'est une histoire où un proviseur se fait vénérer par un élève faible et pathétique, et l'élève en question sert aussi des élèves, je te suggère la lecture de cette histoire :
🇺🇲🇬🇧 If it's a story where a headmaster gets worshiped by a weak and pathetic student, and the student in question also serves students, I suggest you read this story
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🇫🇷 Si tu veut lire une histoire sur un professeur humilié par ses propres élèves, il y a ceci :
🇬🇧🇺🇲 If you want to read a story about a teacher humiliated by his own students, there's this:
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🇫🇷 Si tu veut une histoire sur un être inférieur humilié par un collègue de travail et son patron ainsi que par le fils du collègue :
🇬🇧🇺🇲 If you want a story about an inferior being humiliated by a co-worker and his boss as well as the co-worker's son:
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🇫🇷 Enfin, l'histoire dont tu parles avec un garçon qui revient dans son ancien lycée et est humilié par son ancien harceleur me rappelle une autre histoire que j'ai écrite il y a longtemps sur mon blog. Elle est loin dans mon blog donc je l'ai aussi publié sur mon blog Deviantart. C'est l'histoire "Esclave de pieds perdant de l'équipe de football". Mais je pourrais peut-être en écrire une autre dans ce style à l'occasion.
🇺🇲🇬🇧 : Ultimately, the story you talk about with a boy who returns to his old high school and is humiliated by his former bully reminds me of another story I wrote a long time ago on my blog. It's way down in my blog so I also posted it on my Deviantart blog. This is the story "Football Team's Loser Foot Slave". But maybe I could write another one in that style sometime.
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After sometime of relax from the Hurt Carlos A-Z, here I'm starting the new A-Z for Hurt TK.
Thanks so much to the people that are giving me feedback, ideas, to my betas. @chaotictarlos @lire-casander @morganaspendragonss and for all the people reading my stories.
I'm also starting this new alphabet beginning my new Tarlos Custom bingo from @tarlosweeklyprompts. Thanks so much for this.
For this first chapter, I'm using the square: Missing.
I'm also using:
Tarlos July Bingo: Amnesia Fic
Any fandom goes: In a coma
So here we go.
A.1 - Amnesia
He opened his eyes, he did not know where he was but it was easy to recognize that it was a hospital. He looked around, saw people moving but did not recognize anyone. He raised his hands, looked at them and saw that he had a bracelet on which it said John Doe.
It had to be a mistake. Who had called him John Doe? Did no one know he was TK Strand, paramedic, member of the 126, son of Owen Strand?
So many thoughts made his head hurt. He brought his hand to his temple and realized he had a bandage wrapped around his entire head.
"What happened?" he asked aloud, though it sounded to him like only a whisper came out of his mouth.
A male nurse stood by his door and stared at him, then smiled and entered the room.
"Good afternoon. So you have green eyes. I had bet on brown, I guess I owe Lucy ten bucks."
"What?"
"Excuse me." The nurse moved a little closer to the bed and took his pulse and ran a couple more tests. "You've been in a coma with us for two days and had us very worried, but we also tried to figure out who exactly you were."
"Two days...in a coma?"
"Yes, after you came into the ER unconscious with a severe blow to the head. Someone wanted to suck you dry but didn't succeed."
TK shook his head, more dazed by everything he was being told by this man he'd never seen in his life but who seemed to treat him with a certain familiarity. Though the headache wasn't making things easy for him.
He brought his hand to his bracelet. "Why this name?"
"It's customary. When we have no information about the patient, we have to give him some name."
"But I... My papers."
"You didn't have any on you when you were found two days ago," the nurse answered. He had already called one of the doctors, who came in a few seconds later.
"Oh, shit.... Carlos...my dad...they must think that..."
TK tried to sit up, but all he managed to do was make himself terribly dizzy and feel like he was about to vomit.
"Sir, sir. Please, you must be calm," the doctor who was now standing by the bedside told him. "You just came out of a two-day coma..."
"I've already been told that, but no one will tell me how I got here and why no one knows who I am." They made him lie back down on the bed, he was having trouble breathing, realizing that he didn't remember anything that had happened after leaving the firehouse with the ambulance that morning... Had it been three days since that? Had he been missing longer than the two days since they had found him? "I have to talk to Carlos...my father, they have to know I'm okay."
"We'll speak to whoever you need us to, but you need to calm down." The doctor looked at the screen monitoring TK's heart rate and saw that it was agitated. "We need to calm him down. Let's give him a gram of..."
"No, please don't put me on anything. I've been... I’m an opiate addict... I've been clean for a year and..."
"Ah, so that makes sense," the nurse said, catching TK’s attention.
He turned to him. "What makes sense?"
"First of all, you need to calm down, sir..." the doctor said in response.
"I'm TK Strand, I'm a paramedic at 126 Austin Fire and I need to talk to my fiancé and my father. What makes sense?"
"You were found next to a syringe."
#tmptarlosbingocard#tarlos#anyfandomgoesbingo#Hurt TK#Worried Carlos#TK Strand#Carlos Reyes#A-Z#whump TK#Amnesia#Missing#Tarlos_Spain
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