#ANYWAY what was the inspiration behind your name “Anonymous”? very curious. and whats with the profile pic? could use some colour imo

[infinitelilith]

where does the name infinite Lilith come from?

The "Lilith" part comes from the fact that my name is Lilith and the "Infinite" part comes from the fact that I will live forever and never die

[simmerandwrite]

strangers - steve rogers x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and non-consensual touching, swearing.

Word count: 4870

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When your subway ride home takes a turn for the worst, you hope a stranger in a coffee shop will help you out.

Notes: If you saw a snippet of this the other day, here’s the full thing! I wanted to tackle some ‘in need of saving’ tropes and this just sort of happened. I’ve never posted straight up on Tumblr before but I’m a bit lacking in my experience with reader fics, so I figured this was a good place to share it. no beta, any mistakes are my own! If you like it, let me know - thanks for reading!

—

Steve Rogers liked his days off. Not that he had a set schedule week to week anyway but when things aligned correctly, he could do whatever he wanted. No world saving, no training, no report writing, no meetings.

He had scoped out a small little coffee shop in Brooklyn where he liked to spend these quiet afternoons. Usually with a book in hand (he had so many books to catch up on) or some music loaded to his phone (Nat was currently educating him on 90s punk rock) or a notebook and pencil. People watching served as wonderful inspiration to sketch.

He sipped his cappuccino, eyes tipped downward at the book ahead of him on the table. He was interrupted just moments later as someone dropped into the chair across from him.

Now, Steve wasn’t intentionally hiding out at this hole-in-the-wall cafe. But he did put on his laughable disguise still - a beaten up Yankees cap and his prescription-less thick framed glasses. He liked the anonymity. That didn’t always stop people from recognizing him.

As he opened his mouth to question the person who was suddenly joining him for coffee, she slid her phone across the table to him. Her hand shook. His eyebrows flexed into a curious frown as he looked at the screen displaying a plainly typed note:

‘Do you mind if I sit someone is following me home sorry to disturb you’

—

As if your day hadn’t been absolutely terrible enough, you spotted the gremlin of a man on the subway watching you again. You knew he worked somewhere in the same office building as you because he always trailed a few paces behind you when pushing through the revolving doors in the lobby. It wasn’t uncommon to see the same people on the same subway line at the same time every day, but this man’s presence had become an unwanted downside.

He was always there. Worse than that, he seemed to be always watching you. Today, it was even more obvious that he was following you.

When that thought first occurred to you, it had been really easy to shrug off. He was just a guy taking the subway. But when he happened to be on the later train with you one day, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach.

And now, as the car was filling up even more after the second stop in DUMBO, he had moved to stand and put himself even closer to you.

You had been going through so many Next Steps. God, that phrase was the bane of your existence. Next steps, next steps..

Maybe you could tell him to fuck off. You could make an appointment with Leanna in HR and see if there is a way to figure out the name of this guy - though he didn’t work for your company so that was likely going to be a dead end. You could start taking the bus to the village before grabbing the train. Maybe you could Uber home some days instead of taking the subway. Not that you could afford that but this guy was..

You stiffened immediately.

This guy was touching you. In the midst of the crowded subway car, he was pressed against you entirely. And was he.. His hips were moving against your leg and.. Wait, that was two hands on your hips now.. Hot breath whispered against your neck and -

Fuck.

You threw yourself through the mob as the train came to a stop. With hurried feet you ran onto the platform and up the stairs, doing your best to weave through the flow of people, like a fish trying to make it upstream. You tried not to be obvious but as you snapped your head over your shoulders to look back, you saw him there again.

He was smirking. No, snarling.

Next steps, next steps.

You joined a sea of people crossing the street, taking your first left to try and steer yourself into a particular direction. You were still a far walk from your apartment but with this man on your heels, you didn’t want to lead him anywhere near there.

You grabbed your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through the contacts. Surely there had to be someone you could call but even then, what could they do? Offer advice?

It didn’t occur to you until then but would it be valuable to call the cops?

Despite the late day sunlight, you suddenly felt very aware of the emptiness of the sidewalk on that side street. You needed to be around people. It definitely wasn’t logical to be anywhere near alone with this guy and -

It sounded like his footsteps were getting closer. With a panicked gulp, you yanked on the door of a little hole-in-the-wall cafe. Your eyes scanned the space quickly once you were inside. You probably shouldn’t sit alone, you couldn’t run to the bathroom if you aren’t sure where it is or if you needed a key. There were too many variables.

You needed something. Next steps..

You spotted someone sitting at a small table near the window and without thinking, you sent out a silent prayer to whoever might be listening and you rushed over. The man was clearly alone, a half consumed ceramic mug of coffee sitting to the right of his book.

Swallowing hard, you quickly typed on your phone and slid it across the table to him after you sat. You tried your best to stay very calm and hoped that he would play along. God, what if he didn’t play along and -

Behind you, the door chimed once more and you desperately wanted to see if it was that man - if the gremlin had followed you inside. You clasped your hands together in your lap and forced a smile on as you looked at the stranger sitting across from you.

Despite not knowing him, there was a familiarity about his appearance. Behind his thick glasses, soft blue eyes searched you carefully. His eyes flicked to the screen once more, stiffening in his chair as he looked past you towards the rest of the cafe.

With his right hand, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something quickly and turned the page towards you.

Are you hurt?

You shook your head quickly. He offered you a tight smile and wrote once more.

Buzzcut, grey jacket?

Your eyes blew open wide and you tilted your head into a nod.

I’m Steve

He flipped the notebook closed and extended his hand across the table, palm facing up. He leaned forward just slightly, meeting your eyes with a reassuring smile. “Play along.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand and you slowly unclamped your own, grabbing his on the table instead. He was doing an impressive job splitting his attention between you and his surroundings, eyes scanning the room. He squeezed your hand very gently, brushing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Tell me about your day.”

You sucked in a hard breath. You weren’t entirely sure what his strategy was but something told you this guy was in your corner. Though despite that, you could feel another set of eyes on you.

“Uh,” you started quietly, letting the air escape your lungs. “Surprisingly, I didn’t think it could get worse before I got on the subway after work. I had a review meeting that was not great and we had a free catered lunch that was not vegetarian friendly. Missed an important email and deadline and… well, here I am whining about it and interrupting your day. Listen, I’m going to-

You moved to stand up but Steve shook his head, grasping your hand. “Give it a few more minutes, I think he’ll give up and leave.”

His words were casual but had an authoritative tone. Once more his eyes left you, looking towards the front of the cafe. He raised his free hand and motioned to one of the baristas. You weren’t certain if this was the type of place who served people at their seats but clearly he had a comfortable rapport as the young girl approached with a warm smile on her face.

“Hey Tia, could I get another?”

“Anything for you?” The barista turned her head as she asked, pony tail moving from side to side.

“Uhm.” You paused and thought. You certainly had no desire to even consider a coffee order when you felt someone’s linger gaze boring into you. “A decaf con panna, if that’s possible.” The girl confirmed it was with a nod then left the table side.

“Con panna?” Steve’s lips pulled into a curious smirk. Something about his smile calmed you.

“Espresso with whipped cream on top,” you answered. “Short and sweet.”

“I’ll have to try that next time.”

Steve sure had a soothing smile. When his thumb stopped tracing against your palm - when did that even start? - you felt an empty sadness about the loss. Wow, what did that even say about your standards when a stranger was brushing his thumb against your hand that you were so grateful for? Well, it was a thousand times better than someone rubbing his -

You winced at the memory, biting down as you clutched your bottom lip between your teeth. Though that shameful feeling hadn’t disappeared, you managed to keep it at bay. But now, it seemed to have left an image you were unable to blink away.

The sweet smell of whipped cream and the shuffling of paper cups broke you from your trance. You reached for your bag to fish out a few dollars but when you looked up, Steve was waving a hand to stop you.

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate his kindness. You did. You really, really did. But given the last half hour, you still had a hard time settling your nervous mind.

“Thanks, Tia.” Steve’s eyes were jumping around the place as the barista grabbed the cash he offered. A loud stomp of footsteps drew their attention as the Subway Gremlin saddled up beside the table.

“Sorry to be a bother, darlin’ - any chance I can borrow your phone?”

You couldn’t help but look at him. Though his words were directed at the barista, he made a point to glance over at you.

You felt Steve’s hands grip yours. When you looked towards him, his eyes were very carefully watching the man. How did he manage to -

“Sorry, we don’t have a dedicated line available to customers.” Tia politely shook her head, pointing towards the door. “There’s a CityBank up the street that can help you, I’m sure.” She shrugged and headed back to the coffee counter.

The man stood still, opening his mouth to argue.

Steve sat back, shoulders broad and steady. “Did you need directions there? I think it’s just two blocks. Maybe 500 paces.” His tone was flat. “Just out the door and you’ll be on your way.”

You kept your eyes on Steve. He kept his stare directed at the man. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, the man moved his feet. He turned on his heel, though not before stopping to look at you again.

“I will see you tomorrow, dar-

Steve released your hand and pushed his chair back, standing quickly and grasping the man’s shoulder.

Steve towered over him. “You have five seconds.” The man pulled away from Steve’s grip then finally stomped away. You kept your eyes tightly shut until you heard the chime of the bell indicating the movement of the door. Then, you collapsed onto your arms on the edge of the table.

Steve, meanwhile, headed to the door and kept watch for a few more moments to ensure the man actually departed from the area. Then, he stopped at the counter and exchanged a few words with Tia before returning you.

You were still doing your best to encourage the floor to open up and swallow you whole. How had this even escalated? The worst part was your mind seemed clouded with doubt. This man, you hadn’t even interacted with him before. Why was he suddenly so invested in you? To a point where he might follow you home? Were you just another target or had this been intentional?

You considered yourself a fairly observant person and yet..

You twisted your hands together in your lap and tried to consider what was going to happen now. Next steps, next steps..

“Hey.” Steve returned to his chair. Your eyes flicked up towards him, noticing he was sliding a bottle of water towards you. Your sad little espresso and whipped cream treat was deflated next to it. “Are you okay?”

You reached for the water bottle, twisting the cap open and taking a long drink. “I don’t know.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “No, actually. I’m not. It somehow feels like my skin is on fire and my lungs are failing me and I’m sweaty but I’m not and - and -

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Steve spoke so calmly and evenly. “Just take a slow breath with me, okay?” You closed your eyes once more and followed his instructions as he walked you through a few breathing exercises. “That’s great, you’re doing great-

When he stopped speaking so quickly, you opened one eye to look over at him. His cheeks were a warm shade of pink and his mouth was twisted into a frown. “What?”

“It just occurred to me I didn’t get your name.” He paused, as if to consider his next thought. “Although, given what just happened with that man, you are under no obligation to tell me anything about yourself. I just.. I’d like to help.”

His genuine concern for you was surprising. You allowed a small smile to stretch across your face. “You’re very nice, Steve.”

You gave him your name and he smiled back, repeating it to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your smile turned downwards when you looked towards your phone. “I should probably get going. Again, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this mess but I appreciate the… solace.” You took a deep breath and pushed your chair back, pausing to tip the lukewarm espresso into your mouth. “I owe you one.”

You winced when you heard yourself and sighed. Why did you say that? This stranger, this friendly, broad shouldered, tall, handsome stranger who’s day you interrupted, did not need your weird backhanded flirting. In fact, even though every signal in your brain seemed on edge after, well, everything, the only thing that seemed to ground you now was the kindness of Steve. So you tried to will yourself not to ruin it with any additional commentary.

You weren’t entirely sure what had driven you down this particular street into this particular cafe and towards this particular man. But, you were certainly grateful. “Actually, do they have gift cards here? I’d love to buy you one to say thank you and -

“Are you going to walk? Wherever you’re going right now?” When you looked over, you saw that Steve had stood, too. You saw his eyes move towards the door and the far windows up the street where the man from the subway had gone. “I don’t want to overstep but I hope you’ll let me walk you home. Or far enough away to have cleared his radar.”

“I feel like I’ve already wasted enough of your time, Steve.” You truly felt worse and worse for interrupting his afternoon.

“Please, I insist.” Steve tilted his head, half a smirk on his lips. “You just said you owe me one, so. I’m cashing in the favour.”

“The favour repayment you’re cashing in is.. you doing me another favour? Do you know how favours are supposed to work?” Admittedly, you knew you would feel a lot safer having someone walk home with you. And something about Steve made you feel very secure, his presence like a comforting shield.

“C’mon,” Steve replied with a laugh, nudging his head towards the door.

When you stepped onto the sidewalk, you stopped to think. “Let’s go this way.” You turned to the right and Steve followed, staying on your shoulder closest to the street. You walked in a comfortable silence - which made you nervous at first. Then, as your steps fell into a pattern, the quiet soothed you.

You pushed your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you turned down the next block. You looked over at Steve, who turned his head towards you as you shifted. “You didn’t ask anything else about the man.. Who followed me.”

A quiet hum came from Steve. “I didn’t think I should. You seemed shaken up enough.” He shrugged, peering down at you through his glasses. “If you want to talk about it..”

“I work in this big office building in Midtown. The Clifton building?”

Steve motioned his hand diagonally. “Little bagel place downstairs? That’s right down from The Avengers tower, isn’t it?”

You nodded along. Right. Stark Tower was The Avengers Tower, now. It was the most iconic landmark on that block. “Yes. Actually, I work on the 40th floor, which makes for a great angle to see Iron Man coming in.” Your smile was fleeting when you continued on. “It’s a huge building. I work in human resources for this pharmaceutical company.. But there’s a law firm in there, too. Insurance companies, start ups.. Hundreds of people in and out all day long. Yet, that man on the subway has managed to..” You stopped yourself before your chest got too tight. “Let’s just say I’ve seen him around before.”

“Do you know his name?”

“That’s the thing!” You couldn’t help but laugh now, shaking your head in dumbfounded confusion. “No. I have no idea who he is. But he often gets on the same subway line as me, watches me from across the crowd then today..” You stopped and dragged a hand down your face. “It’s a sad truth but I would say most of my friends have been.. Touched inappropriately on the subway before. I guess it’s a weird right of passage or something..”

“Wait - what?” Steve stopped in his tracks and reached his hand out to grab yours. You stopped and looked up at his eyes, somehow both soft and dark with concern. “He touched you? What do you mean?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering if his ask was authentic. When you saw the disappointment in his face, eyes flooded with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you realized his reaction was genuine. You opened your mouth to explain but suddenly it seemed impossible to find the words.

Steve let go of your hand as he absorbed your lack of response and reached for his phone. “You can file a police report, right?”

“No, no.” You stopped him, placing your hand on his as he held his phone. “Trust me, that’s just paperwork that goes nowhere. Without the guy's name, absolutely nothing would come from it anyway.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I might just adjust my work hours and change my route home for a few weeks. Maybe he’ll give up.”

Steve muttered something to himself, shaking his head. His face shifted from concern to something else, like his brain was working on a different trail of thoughts. He spoke your name quietly, drawing your attention to him again. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Steve’s kindness was a strange contrast to the entire experience on the subway. How one man could have such questionable intentions while another apologizes with sincerity for it was nearly jarring. Although, it did suddenly occur to you that Steve was just as much of a stranger.

“The worst part is.. men like that sever any opportunity for trust in other people. Especially blind trust. Like me telling you, a stranger, where I work and walking you to where I live. Funny enough though - every wire in my brain should be telling me not to and how it was a bad idea but.. I guess there is something about you.”

Steve sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he considered his response. “When you walked into the coffee shop, you could have asked the barista for help or tried to hide out in the bathroom. But you sat next to me instead. How come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, there's just something about you, Steve.”

You walked in silence again, feet falling into a pattern once more. The sky was growing darker, the air cooler. After crossing the street again, you looked at him. “How do you feel about Prezio being traded to the Orioles?” You reached out and tipped up the brim of his Yankees hat. “A tragedy, right?”

A quiet laugh escaped him as he tipped his head. “I think it was a huge mistake. Don’t you think we’ve had a hard enough year as it is?” Your silence was filled with baseball talk instead and it seemed to put both of you at ease.

“This is me.” You stopped outside of a short apartment complex, pointing a thumb to the door.

Steve smiled, one hand in the pocket of his jacket as he studied you. Was this it? After the wild rollercoaster of emotions you had spilled onto him in the last hour, parting with nothing else seemed empty. Lacking. He opened his mouth and closed it, once then twice.

Finally, you cut in. “Thanks again, Steve. Really. If you hadn’t played along and scared him away.. well, I’m not sure where I would be right now. It means a lot that you cared enough about a stranger to make sure I was safe.”

Steve sighed out your name. “I’m sorry your barometer for kindness is so low.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” Part of you wanted to do something. Say something else. Linger a tiny bit longer. But your feet shuffled and your hand reached for the door. “Have a good night, Steve.”

—

“I need a favour.”

“Well, good morning to you, sunshine. Did you lock yourself out of your computer again? FRIDAY can help with that.”

“Tony, this is serious.”

“Okay, okay. I recognize that scowl. How can I help you?”

“If I provided you some video footage from a security camera, can we track someone down? Figure out who they are? For full transparency, it’s just a civilian.”

“Sounds like we’re operating outside of the law, Rogers. Can you provide me with more context? I don’t mind the grey area - I just like the drama, too.”

Steve sighed, then reluctantly explained himself. The cafe. Your panicked message. The stalker of a man. The way you dismissed it all as a normal, unfortunate side effect of existing as a woman. His barista friend provided him with camera footage but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

Tony pinched between his eyes. “Men are scum. And I say that as someone in the practice of trying to be better. Recovering scum, if you will. I’ll see what I can do. FRIDAY, how quietly can we get into the security database at the Clifton building?”

—

Although you hadn’t lied to Steve, it occurred to you on your journey home that your guard should remain up. Which is why you had actually allowed him to walk you to your aunt’s apartment, instead of your own. She was happy to see you burst through the door and insisted you stay for dinner. That was a tiny silver lining to the whole mess.

The next day though, the thought of going into work was suffocating. So you opted to spend the day working from home instead, which your boss had been agreeable to, at least. One day rolled into two and you successfully avoided the office building until the following Monday. But then, you needed a plan. Next steps, next steps.

You took an Uber to the office early and left late at the end of the day, leaving out the back stairway and crossing a few blocks to take a different subway line home. It was unfortunate you had to cater your life to the chance you would run into this goon again, but your sense of security was slowly returning. That had to count for something.

Things shifted later that week. There was a sudden new policy sent out to all the staff in your office outlining new building ownership and training about sexual harassment policies.

“It’s a long time coming,” you heard someone mutter out in the elevator as you headed down towards the lobby.

“Guess Tony Stark just wants to own the whole block,” their coworker chirped back, pulling to loosen his tie.

There was even more commotion when you exited the elevator and walked towards the large glass doors. A team of NYPD officers were standing outside, shoving someone in the back of their cruiser. Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t be certain but from that angle, you certainly recognized the bad buzzcut. Your eyes darted around the lobby anxiously and across the room, a small crowd of suits and officers had formed near..

Tony Stark, himself.

Before you could even try to understand what was going on, you heard someone calling your name. You turned your head and saw someone who looked a lot like -

“Steve?” You took a few steps towards him, pausing to glance from him back at Tony Stark and.. “Oh my god. You’re Steve Rogers. Why didn’t you say something?”

Captain America had walked you home. Hidden behind glasses and a hat. And you always considered yourself observant.

Steve just smirked, shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Should I be thanking you for all of this chaos?”

Steve furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe I’m extrapolating here but the same day my subway stalker gets taken away in cuffs, Stark Industries buys out this building and mandates a new policy and code of conduct.”

Steve pursed his lips, swallowing back a mischievous smirk. “Here’s the thing. It occurred to me that your best choice of action after that day was changing your entire life to avoid that man. And I couldn’t help but think about how broken that system was.”

You sighed. It had occurred to you, too. While you were relieved to shake the man from your trail, your mind considered he would probably turn his attention to someone else. And that wouldn’t be fair.

“Well, Cap. Job well done. That scum of a man had priors in Jersey, too.” Tony Stark himself had walked to where you and Steve stood. His hand clapped on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re at least going to ask her out, right? I mean, I bought an entire building for you - make a move, pal.”

Steve flushed pink and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’m getting a bagel. You want a bagel?” Tony raised an eyebrow from you to Steve again, smiling proudly.

“I’m good. I recommend the poppy seed though!” You called as Tony flitted away, narrowly avoiding a proper looking blonde woman who seemed very tired.

You turned your attention back to Steve. “He seems like a lot.”

“He is.” Steve nodded, motioning his hand. “I know it’s only one thing, maybe a ripple in making a difference but.. I’m hoping one less inappropriate person on the subway can give you peace of mind.”

You smiled again. Though you had seen many appearances by Captain America on the news, seeing the man in person was different. It seemed Steve Rogers walked the walk. After parting ways with him before, though he had crossed your mind, you didn’t anticipate your menial issues leading to this.

“Thanks. Really. Even one person makes a difference.” You reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, Steve.”

“I’m sorry about Tony, though. His comments about asking you out and.. that certainly wasn’t my goal here.”

“I don’t know. You just did me a huge favour getting rid of that gremlin. I think I owe you.”

Steve caught your cheeky smile and stood up a bit straighter. “Well, in that case, the Yankees are playing the Sox tomorrow night. Tony never uses his tickets and the seats aren’t half bad. What do you say?”

“You’re cashing in this favour to take me on a date? Usually people ask for help moving or a ride to the airport or something.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Sure. I guess you can take me to the game, Steve. If you ask politely, I’ll probably even hold your hand.”

After work the next day, Steve met you outside and you took the subway together to the stadium. You knew this wasn’t the end of it for you or anyone else worried about their personal boundaries being crossed. But, as you gripped the subway pole and your fingers grazed against Steve’s, you could finally breathe again. For the first time in a while, you weren’t anticipating next steps.

It was just you and the kind stranger from the coffee shop.

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander​ for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit. 

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad. 

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend. 

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life. 

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business. 

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge. 

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him. 

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man. 

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance. 

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet. 

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. 

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned. 

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter. 

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but  -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine. 

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on,  he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago. 

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him. 

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too. 

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it. 

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was. 

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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Professor!Javi Taglist: @misslolasworld  @mrsparknuts

[galaxycosplayart]

A Man on a Roof

A simply short story I wrote heavily inspired by a dream I had. I tried my best to do research on 1920's fashion and culture, as well as try to make the New Orleans theme authentic. Constructive criticism is appreciated! (There's also some lgbtqia+ representation in here since I'm basing this off my dream where I was the narrator and I am in fact LGBTQIA+) ---

The sound of jazz resonated throughout the rather extravagant hotel venue, loud and upbeat. People swung along: dancing to the sweet melodies like there was no tomorrow. The band’s performance was booming with energy, passion and life; the colourful music painting a perfect picture of the ‘20s in all of the attendee’s minds. The dance floor was packed of all different shapes, ages and sizes. This gathering was one you wouldn’t forget. The sights, the sounds, the feeling; this 1920s themed extravaganza surely did live up to that title. I would know. I was smackdab in the middle of it all.

I’m going to be honest: I don’t really like parties. Too populated, too loud, too obnoxious – but I can’t say no to some swing. This party really was worth coming to, and for once I have to say I had the time of my life. Something about the general aesthetic, the beaming faces of everyone there, the historical backstory, it just made me swell up with joy (and excitement!). I was on my own, my parents were probably off making friends with other adults. In my hand was a glass of non-alcoholic champagne. I am but 13-years-old, after all. I continued to sway, careful not to spill my drink, when I happened to notice a boy leaving the party. He caught my eye, not for attraction, but intrigue. He looked to be a young man, around 16 or 17, but he was somewhat tall and lanky. Unfortunately, I didn’t get enough time to take a proper gander. Fortunately, nothing stopped my compelled urge to follow.

---- He was going to the roof. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry. No, he trotted nonchalantly to the elevator, his footsteps in sync with the music. He seemed to caper with the pleasant melodies coming from the venue. As he entered the elevator car, he lingered on to the tune with each step. The door closed before I could join him, and I watched the floor-level indicator above the gate gradually flicker to the roof of the building. Now, I know tailing people isn’t very polite, but I had taken a liking to the man’s... energy. Once taking a separate car up and searching a bit, I spotted the man near the edge of the flat roof. He continued to tap, now bathed under the glow of the full moon, illuminating his dancing figure. Since I could finally see his face, I can tell you he certainly was a rather attractive man. His warm amber skin basked splendidly under the moonlight; his eyelids shut. His low-ponytail of curly black hair swayed with him as he stepped, the music taking control of his body and mind. His outfit was truly vintage: a neat white dress shirt beneath some dark brown suspenders, the shirt tucked into his black dress pants. He also wore a dark chocolate-coloured bow tie and a light-grey longshoremen cap. Strong jazz could be heard, slightly muffled from the floors below, but that didn’t stop the young tapper from Charleston-ing his way around the roof.  Listen, I’m no professional dancer, but I like to have a bit of knowledge in any given topic. My little knowledge prompted a question in my head, “Aren’t you supposed to have a dancing partner for this particular swing?” I said nothing aloud though, for my focus was on observing this man’s joyous pep. I leaned against the wall, quietly enjoying the stranger’s strut, when the moment was cut short by the sound of giggles. He opened his eyes, revealing mahogany brown irises, only adding to his beautiful appearance. He and I both turned to see a group of young women, looking to be around his age, goggling the boy. I mean, you could say I was too, but I didn’t interrupt or jest at his actions; I merely gazed politely. The nearest girl walked up to him and began to chat, which ceased his dance. This disappointed me, he seemed to be enjoying himself and they decided to throw off his rhythm. He appeared uninterested in talking too, giving the girl a bored look and responding in short answers. From what I heard, she was clearly chatting him up, probably attempting to make a move on him. However, this encounter was also interrupted; for it was his turn to spot me. We made eye contact; his line of sight aimed downwards at my short figure. I immediately panic, thinking, “Crap. How am I supposed to explain why I’m here? ‘Hello sir, I followed you upstairs, I liked the vibes?’ Hell no.”  As I ran through all the possible excuses or justifications for why I decided to basically stalk this man up the hotel, I didn’t notice him making his way towards me. Nor did I sight the annoyed look of the girl he just left behind. He comes up to me, and soon realizing I was lost in frantic thought, gently places a hand on my shoulder. I snap out of my frenzied state, jumping at the touch and looking up once more to see him a lot closer than he was a couple of seconds ago. “Hey, you alright? You seemed frozen in time, dere,” he said with a gentle smile. His accent was faintly reminiscent of downtown New Orleans, which explained how his energy matched the parties so perfectly. It was smooth and peppy; an endearing tone. “Oh, yeah, of course,” I say quickly, still trying to find the right words. “I- uh- I liked your dancing,” was all that came out of my mouth, and I mentally facepalmed with the awkwardness that came with the broken statement. Instead of cringing at this display, however, he instead laughed. “Thank you, cher. And what are you doing, all alone on this here roof?” he asked kindly. “Just... exploring. I happened to notice you dancing when I got to the roof, so I kind of... watched for a bit,” I replied sheepishly. I mean, I wasn’t lying. I did explore the roof a bit before I found him, and I did spot his Charleston when I did. I just happened to omit the details of following him up the elevator car. And through the lobby. From the party. No biggie. “That so? Well then, can you dance?” he asked, extending a friendly hand and dishing out a genial grin. I panic again, but this time for a different, more trivial reason. “Oh, no, no I’m not that good at dancing-” “Really? Ya seemed to be enjoying it down there at tha’ party.” “...You saw me there?” “I watched you follow me, sha.” “...” Well, this was incredibly embarrassing. If I wasn’t already blushing from this whole ordeal (which I incredibly doubt – my face felt very hot), I most definitely was now. I should be thankful for his carefree attitude, because when my spluttered apology attempted to vocalize itself into comprehensible words, he simply waved it off and laughed once more. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he assured light-heartedly. “Still, I wouldn’t mind if you joined me. It’s fun to have a dancin’ partner, ya know?” “I- well... I guess a bit of dancing wouldn’t hurt,” I admitted. He extended his hand once more in invitation. I hesitantly accepted, and as soon as my palm fit into his, the grip strengthened as I was whirled to his side in the open area near the edge. As the next song started to play, and we couldn’t help but get lost in the music, I heard one phrase be exclaimed from the still-anonymous boy beside me, “Laissez les bons temps rouler!"  ---- I had easily resumed my cheerful demeanour by dancing with the man, enjoying our time to the fullest. Despite my lack of expertise in cutting a rug, we enjoyed ourselves quite a bit. It was more of feeling out the music and letting the rhythm take you, relishing a fun stranger’s presence. Sadly, this enjoyment was often interrupted by a third party, who continued to loiter around on the roof; each individual taking their turn in attempting to woo the boy. Louis, as I now knew him, also kept up his trend of giving the girls a cold shoulder, and we exchanged a cheeky grin each time one would storm off huffing. However, something did confuse me slightly. Well, the women were exceptionally beautiful. They also didn’t seem rude, or arrogant; they actually seemed rather kind and friendly. Some even referred to Louis by name, meaning he was probably familiar with the ladies. They simply were shooting their shot, and Louis would keep refusing one after the other. Obviously, he wasn’t obliged to humour any of their advances, but it’s like he didn’t even acknowledge the idea of dating them. I am a curious – and frankly, unfiltered – soul, so as the last dame trudge off to the group, I turn to my new friend and say,  “Hey, mind if I ask you something?” “Sure, what's on your mind, cher?” he replied smoothly, as we both watch the gaggle of women finally exit. “You know em’? The group there, I mean,” I clarify, though there wasn’t such a need for it anyway. I just have a bad habit of... shedding light on things that aren’t as dark, you feel me? “Yeah, they’re good friends of my brother’s. Why?” “Oh, well, they seem awfully interested in you.” “Yeah, they do that now and then. I’m used to it.” “Can’t take a hint, huh?” “Yeah, you right.” I decide to sit down as the current song begins to fade out, allowing myself a small break before the music resumed. Louis takes a seat beside me, sighing. I press further, while simultaneously pondering why I was so curious about his decision to dismiss these dates. Looking back on it, it was really none of my business, but something about the rejections just felt oddly... familiar. Still, I probably shouldn’t pry into other people’s matters. “May I ask why you constantly say no? I mean, they seem like lovely ladies. Are they just not your type?” He doesn’t reply at first, so I immediately jump to the conclusion that I upset him in some way. He’d be justified in feeling so, but I soon come to realize he was thinking of how to answer. After a few moments, I got the reply. “Sort of. I mean... in a way? They don’t know that though,” he says with a smile, to which I respond by giving him a quizzical look. What was that supposed to mean? I’m pretty embarrassed I didn’t realize it sooner when he sees my expression, and states, “Oh. I’m gay.” I stare at the boy for a few moments, blinking. I then burst out into laughter. What a heteronormative approach I took to my questioning. Me, of all people! He was amused with me, and we share a joyous laughing session to the realization.  “Ah... no wonder I related to your rejections,” I say with a cheerful grin. He quirks an eyebrow, and asks me with a curious twinkle in his eye,“Hm? What are you talking about sha?” “I’m bi. And non-binary. That’s partially why I found it so ironic that I didn’t get that sooner.” We chuckled once more, now aware of how hysterical the situation was when the final song of the evening began. He gets up first, helping me up, and we find ourselves dancing our way into the night.

[criquette-was-here]

Long Awaited Replies

Hello everyone! It’s been awhile since my last activity here. Stuff’s just got real last few months and I am now experiencing some heavy RLS which makes the future of the whole Feverfew project quite uncertain. I’m very annoyed by the fact I have to move the release date over and over again, but, fingers crossed, I’ll be able to manage to make it this year. But before I post any updates, I need to answer my inbox!

@landgraabsims​ said:

feverfew is absolutely gorgeous!! is it inspired by any real-life places or towns? i live in england and it reminds me of a few in-the-middle-of-nowhere villages i've visited c:

Thanks @landgraabsims​! Yes, Feverfew is based on British countryside aesthetics without any towns or villages in particular. It has a bit of everything, really. It’s a fantasy place after all. But I do use a lot of real life references for making landmarks for it.

Anonymous said:

any idea of the date of release for feverwood? just redownloaded sims 2 and im in loveee

Hey Anon! I’m glad you like it! I really hope to make it happen this year.

Anonymous said:

i would die (or pay) for zagoskin omg it looks like TS3

Oh, thank you, Anon!

@katzengirl​ said:

Hello Criquette! I don't have a challenge or a question or a request. I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate the things you've shared with us! I hope you're having a good day.

Hello Kristina! That is so sweet, thank you ^___^ I hope you’re doing fine too!

Anonymous said:

Hi there, Criquette. Been having fun with your Rural Charm set and the Better Lighting.  Ran into one small problem with the RC. One of the narrow curves picks up the texture from a road section with a crosswalk, so that looks a bit odd (30degree inner?).  And a question - is there a Better Lighting for the Iron Bracket street lamp with the seasons banner?  Thought the iron bracket would work, but it's not. Anywho, Thank You for ALL the work you put into making our hoods look fantastic!

Hey Anon! Thanks! Depending on the road DR you’re using, there can be some  texture issues here and there since Rural Charm is optimised for road texture without any markings (apart from the broken white line). As for the Iron light post with a banner – no. I’ve only made 2 Maxis’ base game lamp posts.

Anonymous said:

It's amazing how this one game embraces so many different types of players. I'm planning to create my very own nh from scratch, and I'd be a liar not to recognize how your game pics inspired me to the task (not to mention your ever impressive work of hood deco cc throughout these years). For all that, as much as I'm just another anon, thank you, sincerely. But that left me wondering: do you also/still play with the other ts2 game modes or they no longer interest you?

Oh, that is so kind, Anon. Thank you! Yes, I do love to actually play the game. I enjoy building/decorating lots as much as live mode. In fact, I often get carried away during playtest sessions and just keep playing in lot mode and that’s why there are lots like ‘The Tower Inn’ or ‘The Moose & Beaver’ or sims like Tilda Phidbach, WHT-FC28 servo and their field lab.

Anonymous said:

Criquette, do you know something about this project? thesims1master tumblr (the idea is to make the game look like the beta version. I ask, because I liked it so much, but I haven't been able to find the person behind it and I'm very curious to see more or download it, as well as his world, which I've been waiting for since last year lol)

Hey Anon! Oh, I don’t think I know anything about this project, no. But it looks rather interesting!

@forever-evenfall​ said:

Hey Criquette! I just downloaded your Lighting Remedy (because I only just realised I needed to change the txt file and not just download it lol) and when I placed your lighting text in the program files, the lighting itself worked, but the terrain itself was flashing red. Do you know what I did wrong? I literally don’t think I can play without the fix lol. I am using UC and I placed it in the Fun With Pets/SP9/TSData/Res/Lights folder. Should I have put it somewhere else?

Hello Eve! I might be wrong, but isn’t it Mansions & Gardens SP that stands for UC? Anyway, flashing red terrain is really weird consequence for just replacing a txt file. Neighborhood terrain doesn’t have any dynamic light. It has a light map instead which comes with Lighting remedy too. If you only just replace the lighting txt file without putting LR light map into your ‘Downloads’ folder, the only issue you should get would by unsynchronized light directions for hood decos and the terrain itself.

Anonymous said:

I'm having a problem: not all the decorations I put in the neighborhood are showing up in simulation mode, even with the fade off and the long-range vision on. I think there is some code that I need to add to the game files to make all the decorations appear. But I can't find how to do this: c Can you help me?

Hello Anon! Basically, there’s only one type of hood deco that isn’t showing up in lot mode and that is neighborhood effects. All the decals, flowers, fields, all the animated stuff (except for texture animation, e.g. Maxis’ marquee sign) is not showing up in lot mode. There’s nothing we can do about it. Yet. If you think that there’s a proper hood deco that isn’t showing up in lot mode, please PM me with some screenshots and we could try to sort it out.

Anonymous said:

Hello--Anon who asked about additional pieces for the Rural Charm set--I see now, thank you for explaining about the floating intersections.  Is there anything you recommend then, to add on to existing roads? Otherwise, thanks for taking the time to explain.

Hello Anon! Oh, you’re most welcome. There is a tedious way to replace a texture on the existing tile of the real road, to make in into intersection so that it would connect better visually with decorative road pieces. But that takes time. What you have to do is to determine the tile you want to edit using technique described in this tutorial and then you have to change the texture name in the corresponding line. The texture names for the intersections (their index name parts) can be found in any road DR beforehand.

@sunradersimblr​ said:

Hi, I'm just wondering if you've ever done hood deco of a highway rest stop like the type we see in the U.S. along interstates and state highways, just a green space, usually, with toilet facilities and a place for a picnic and parking lot? I need one for a story and thought I'd check with you. Thanks for all the great work you share! 

Hello Sunrader! That would be really nice addition for the highway set, but I haven’t made it. Thought it’s quite possible to make something similar if you use ‘One side exit piece’ from the motorway set and add some picnic tables, umbrellas and benches using street tables & benches set. There’s also many 4t2 deco conversions for toilets and other small size decos that would help to create a decent resting stop.

@nataliepop​ said:

Hi there Criquette! There's a new game called Townscaper which I think you'd like. The architecture has an English aesthetic and you build cities or towns but it all starts on an ocean. It's in early access, so I hope by the time it officially releases they add boats and piers. Look it up on Steam or Youtube. I saw it via someone who usually does Cities Skylines videos. Btw, have you ever played that? Also, apart from sims what else do you enjoy playing? Anyway, hope you are having a good day!

Hey Natpop! Thanks for a lovely game suggestion! I’ve checked it out and it looks really fun. Can’t say I’d play it though XD All my free time (which I don’t have atm) is reserved for simming hood deco making working on Feverfew ^^

Anonymous said:

hey~ i love all of your stuff, you're so talented (๑♡⌓♡๑) i wanted to ask, do you think you'll ever release feverfew's sc4 map? 

Thank you Anon! That’s very kind. I’m not sure if there’s any point in releasing SC4 map I used for Feverfew because it’s completely differs from the way it looks now. The road layout is different, there’s no canal, no islands on the river, hills are different, etc. It has been heavily terraformed and edited during development process. I’d recommend just to wait till the Feverfew neigborhood release.

Anonymous said:

Hi! Do you have any idea of when Feverfew will be released? :) 

Hey Anon! It will be released this year, hopefully!

Anonymous said:

Hello :D Is it possible to get your linden trees as lot objects in build/garden section? I love them and they beautify my neighborhood but could really use an option to select them on lots too :)

Hello Anon! Yes, that’s possible, though I can’t say if I could make it myself. What I can say though, is that there’s a linden trees redux coming soon. It would make linden trees look better and highly optimised so that it would only take 4,5 Mb instead of 60 Mb without any losses in texture quality and resolution. 

[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, Obligations, Chp 5.

So almost 3000 words.

My heart literally hurt yesterday to see that the beautiful @kalendraashtar felt she couldn't continue writing because of horrible anons. It is 100% jealousy, and they are pathetic bitter individuals, who hide behind anonymity. Anyway I want to dedicate this chapter to her because if it wasn't for her her inspiring work I would never have typed a word of fanfic. I don't have an ounce of her gift but I will keep writing anway!I ​ 

Anyways thank you for your comments and asks, it fuels the fire guys! I want to thank @balfeheughlywed and @ladyviolethummingbird  who got me to move the first section of this chapter to a later one and they were so right because I am so much happier with the flow. There is reference to NSFW language below the cut.

Brian patted my hand, a tight smile swept across his face. “There ye are Jamie lad, I was just about to tell ye that I found Claire!” his tone overly light, nervous almost.

Jamie nodded, arms folded defensively keeping his eyes locked on me. “Aye,” he said plainly.

  Brian sensing the tension, made one final attempt at smoothing the waters, “Son I have told Claire that this is not our wish for ye, I ken that might not help yer explanations but…I”

Before Brian could finish his sentence, Jamie’s face grew grim. “This is bullshit” he snarled, “I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t”,  pointing one finger at his father “you absolving yourself of my decisions isna going to make things any better, so dinna bother trying that judicious bullshit with me!” he spat.

  Brian visibly flinched at his words, but he walked towards Jamie calmly, eyes full of sympathy. “I am sorry son. I ken this is very difficult on ye.”

  Before we could speak another word, Willie came bounding energetically into the stables, and we all made a conscious effort to take a step back. 

  “Ma” Willie shouted excitedly “Me and Da have been looking for ye all morning!”, he jumped up into my arms “Where have ye been?” his brows creased together questioningly. “Oh well” I replied, infusing a brightness in my tone that I didn’t feel, “I have been out walking and helping Grandda.”

  Willie nodded acceptingly. “How many friends can I invite to the wedding?” he blurted out, his mind running onto his next plan. 

“The what?” I asked my addled brain failing to follow Willie’s quick turnaround.

  “yer and Da’s wedding,” Willie explained rolling his eyes. “I wanna invite my new friends from School.”

  Jamie stepped forward, taking Willie from my arms. “As many as ye like son”, ignoring my half opened mouth he smiled reassuringly at Willie.

  Brian cleared his throat and started shuffling towards the stable door. “Come with me a bhalaich” Brian beckoned; Willie duly leapt from Jamie’s arms to follow his grandfather.

  “Don’t do that” I hissed as soon as Willie was out of earshot.

  “Claire,” Jamie said ignoring my temper. “Will ya let me explain” his hands outstretched pleadingly.

  “your father has explained it all” I said and stormed off.

_________________

  If my dress had sleeves, they would be wrung within my fingers nervously. "Fuck", I muttered to myself "I am too soft that's my problem".

    The three swift brandies I had downed before arriving had numbed my yapping stomach but done nothing to quench the anxiety roaring around my body.

I had no one to blame for my attendance at this farce but myself, given that my first thought this morning was to board a plane to Boston. My resolve had weakened under Jenny's pleading words.

    "Ya ken mam willna ask it of ye, but she has invited everybody and their mother to this party, if ye dinna show with Jamie, she will would be shamed", seeing my expression she held her hand up haltingly, " I ken right now yer not too concerned of shaming Jamie, but I know ye willna shame mam."

  My answer was quick and wounding "I will do it for Ellen." I said sharply, stamping out the flash of hope that flickered across Jamie’s face.

  Jamie's soft knock on the bedroom door came sometime later, "Are ye ready Sassenach?" his anger from earlier had dissipated somewhat, and instead his eyes held a sadness, the sight was like an invisible hand churning my gut. Part of me longed to pull him to me, missing the solid feel of him but I was still too sore to bridge the gap.

    To occupy my mind and avoid Jamie, I had spent more than the average amount of time readying myself for a party. If I dressed as if going to battle, it might conjure up bravery I didn't own, and to hide the utter devastation that I felt inside. I would be damned if the Dunsany's would know what they cost me.

  Jamie's face when I opened the door, fortified me with just enough courage to face them. "Ye are stunning," he said simply.

__________________

"I dinna want the Dunsany's in my home either" Ellen whispered as we entered through the kitchen door, "but they will be gone tomorrow, and for now we will hold our heads high, aye?"

I heard her message and greeted each guest as warmly as I could.

  Yielding to Jamie's warm hand on the small of my back, just as much an act of compromise as need.

    The Fraser's neighbours and friends eyed me with a mixture of curiosity and something like compassion. I was a stranger, the Sassenach pet name Jamie called me was somewhat different on their tongues.

  To most of them, Jamie's engagement came entirely out of the blue, and they weren't even aware that we were dating, which technically we weren't.

  The flow of congratulations, followed with "sure it will be lovely for Willie" spoke volumes. Our engagement perceived as a necessity, an arrangement almost. Just a girl Jamie had got pregnant, and now he was doing the decent thing by marrying her.

    Everything coloured by the move to Hellwater, I couldn't see our story anymore. Focusing only on the bare facts of mine and Jamie's history, I saw myself from their eyes. A mistake.

    Panic and humiliation were fighting each other for dominance in my mind.

  My status as an obligation was driven home when I heard an elderly neighbour of the Fraser's bend to Jamie's ear. His ruddy cheeks wobbling in merriment "Ye got caught son" he said nudging Jamie playfully in the ribs, "happens to the best of us...our Ann was six months gone when I married her, ye did well to escape the ould ball and chain for four years."

  Jamie's head snapped instantly to me first and then he lent to the man again, muttering something between gritted teeth and stormed away leaving me alone with strangers.

  Hours seemed to pass since I lost Jamie's presence by my side. I  listened to stories I had no part in or knowledge of. I was ignoring the stares and curious looks and raging silently with him for leaving me.

  I pressed my lips together to try and still the scream that threatened to fall from my mouth.

     “Claire?”  Jenny's concerned face was peering at me.

  I moved across the room, away from her searching for an exit I bumped straight into Jamie. Geneva Dunsany trailing behind him, "where are ye going?"

  He was leaning over me, not helping the circulation of air I so desperately needed. “It doesn't matter, I can’t do this”, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, I glanced over his shoulder at Geneva and Jamie followed my stare, he turned back to me quickly to say something but before he had uttered a word a cold hand reached for my forearm.

  Geneva Dunsany's concerned eyes watching me "Claire are you ok? You've gone a terrible shade."

    "Fine," I said smiling tightly.

  Her blue eyes gazed at me sympathetically this coinciding with Jamie's equally concerned expression made me want to slap something, was he with her when he left me alone? "Look I am sure none of this is easy," she said mildly, "newly engaged and about to be separated."

  Jamie moved a step closer to me as if anticipating my propensity to turn violent. "I just want you to know that we will take excellent care of him" she smiled sweetly.

"I dinna need your family's care Geneva, I am there under coercion. let us be clear, aye?."

  Suddenly it was too much, Geneva's wounded face, Jamie's defensive words. They were all involved in this mess, and I no longer wanted to be.

  Bolting for the nearest door, I breathed apologies while squeezing myself between guests as I left.

   _______

  It was an hour later when Jamie snuck into the stables behind me. "I thought ye went home," he said quietly, tentatively edging closer to me as if approaching a spooked horse.

  "Home?" I snorted sarcastically "and where would that be?"

  Jamie took a moment to consider "I would like to say yer home is with me, but I dinna think ye see it that way anymore?"

  I was at a loss for how to answer him. "Do you have any idea how it felt in that room? I have never felt so alone... so... " searching for a word to sum up how I felt, "so far from home" I finished, hoping that he couldn't hear the break in my voice.

    When his hand snuck around to pull me close, I shrank from his touch.

    "I am so sorry Claire" he held on firmly, ignoring the attempt to sever myself from him.

  "Sorry?" I asked disbelievingly "sorry doesn't come close, Jamie."

    His face fell, and his hand rose to cup my cheek.  Eyes brimming with tears,  I could see the exhaustion weighing down his shoulders.

  Fixing my eyes on a vacant point on the floor, I bit my bottom lip,  it hurt to look at him.

    "Do ye think it is easy for me Claire? It's like ripping my heart out and living without it" his voice falling to a whisper at the final word. Swallowing hard and blinking rapidly, he moved towards me.

  “Do ye not think I am fucking broken at the thoughts of leaving ye?” he persisted.

My mouth curled up in a sneer, "and here you are still only thinking of how this affects you, Jesus Jamie" I snapped.

  His hands reached out and held me firm by my forearms. There was no sound but a ragged drawing of breath. He stood staring at me, eyes searching up and down my face.

  "What would you have me do? Let them leave my parents without a home, a business? Throw away everything they have worked for?"

  "What I would have had you do is not put all that at jeopardy without getting fucking advice first" I spat.

Something flickered in his eyes before he roared "fuck" and kicked an upturned bucket halfway across the stable. Running his hand through his hair he turned from me, his head thrown back.

  I wasn't done.

  "No matter how I look at it, I can't get past that we are not your priority, we weren't your priority when Willie was born, and we aren't your priority now," I said flatly.

    “Claire” Jamie breathed, “That couldna be further from the truth” he shook his head incredulously.

  "This is pointless" I retorted rolling my eyes, "you can't even see what your actions mean Jamie?"

  His bewildered glare told me he didn't have a clue.

    "Look," I said feigning reason. "Our circumstances have changed. It's like you proposed a lifetime ago. I am not naive enough to think that Willie and I may have seen like an obligation."

  Jamie's eyes widened, and he put his hands up haltingly, moving in small steps to stand in front of me.

  "Obligation?" he asked incredulously. I didn't answer, the whispers and swirls of gossip still circulating in my mind from the party.

  "Claire" he breathed, one side of his mouth turning up in a smile. "When I asked ye to marry me, I meant every word, it doesna matter what happens around us Sassenach, what it is between us doesna change."

  His imploring eyes and soft intake of breath made me want to fall into his arms, but Jamie's reluctance to admit the enormous problem our future faced grated on me.

    “Oh ok, so when do you think we should get married then? Where do you think we should live?

When he opened his mouth and failed to say something.  My lips curled up into a sly smile. "The truth is, the day you agreed to move to Hellwater, you ended any future you and I could have."

  Jamie's mouth dropped open, but something close to recognition passed over his face.

  I raised my hand halting the start of his protests, and my voice trembled slightly when I said  "it's not just because we will be separated, your actions speak volumes, Jamie. I gave up everything to come to you, and yet again, Willie and I are down the pegging order."

    His eyes flashed angrily, and he loomed over me "Do – ye – not – think – I – regret –it" he said through gritted teeth.

    "I don't fucking know; maybe it is what you want? Running the show at Hellwater, everyone thinking you're some sort of fucking demigod come horse whisperer, maybe you get your kicks out of that, hmm?"

  Jamie's eyes went as wide as stalks, his hands bunching into fists at his sides before he sent one pounding against the wooden frame behind me. I was reasonably sure I had never witnessed Jamie so furious. I revelled in it, matching his glare with gusto.

    “Are ye crazy?” he asked incredulously. Part of my brain was begging me to stop this before Jamie’s head blew clean of his shoulders, the other half wanted me to provoke him until he said something he couldn’t take back and I would have justification for my loathing.

    Jamie grabbed the top of the gate of the horse stall directly behind me, my eyes followed his hand, and I could see the whites of his knuckles as he gripped it. He was boxing me in, leaning over me to demonstrate his power, it irked me considerably.

  I cleared my throat and gave him a smile that didn't quite meet my eyes. My voice was like honey now.

  "Look you'll be fine I am sure…those Dunsany sisters will be certain to make you feel welcome, I think one of them might even want to fuck you too…so your bed will be warm", the cold gaze that I gave him under my lashes was the perfect accompaniment to the utter filth I was suddenly capable of spouting.

    Jamie grabbed me roughly “What the hell has gotten into ye?” he growled. “Oh come on” I persisted. “You’re pretending it’s a death sentence…when I am sure the Lady Geneva will make it an altogether more enjoyable affair”, my disused British accent now slanted, mocking.

  A rumble came from Jamie’s chest that I knew was going to exit his mouth as a roar.

“Ye think I want to fuck somebody else, is that it Claire, ye think I want to leave you and Willie so I can fuck Geneva Dunsany?”

    I turned my face away, staring at nothing on the wall. "Answer me!!" Jamie roared.

  Turning completely, back to his face I breathing deeply trying to calm myself.

  Jamie's warm breath came fast against my ear. A spiteful tone to his words.

    “Well more fool me because you are the only woman I want to fuck even when yer out of your mind!”

  He pulled me back against him, his fingers pressing into my hips until my bottom met his cock. Hard, aching.

  "Can ye feel that" he hissed against my neck.

  "Even - now," he said haltingly. "I want ye when ye canna even look at me."

  He was rousing something in me that I wasn't sure what to do with.

Heat spread through every inch of me at his touch.

  Another breath.

  "I only want you” he whispered.

II craved him, anger be damned, intense pleasure clawed up my spine and I rotated my hips against him. Teasing.

  "Can ye no look at me then?" teeth snaking into my neck, his chin heavy on my shoulder.

    "No," I said hoarsely "I can't".

    "Do ye want me?"

  "Jamie" I pleaded. "This won't help" My body sending a different message as I slipped my hand back and ran it over his arousal, which earned me an eager groan and a breathy "fuck".

    Slow and steady Jamie's hand crept up the hem of my dress, sure fingers gliding up my thigh until he reached between my legs and felt the wetness there. "Ye do want me," he said while biting and licking the soft skin below my ear.

  Jamie's hand journeyed down my arm and he entwined our fingers where my hand rested above the gate. One knee shoving my legs apart he continued to move his fingers inside of me, teasing the wetness there. I could barely breathe around the need.

  Moaning loudly I thrust my bottom against him, and Jamie drew in a sharp breath.

   I wasn't aware of one other coherent thought, but the sound of the metal clang of his belt buckle hitting the floor as he dropped his pants, and his fist driving himself inside of me.  Losing all heed for where we were or who might see.

  Over and over we punished each other every time Jamie thrust into me, I pushed back.

  Frantic breaths and screams were barely audible over the pelting wind and rain outside. Furious coiling, in my belly, when Jamie slid his hand down to our joining I bowed over at the waist, his soft cries of "Jesus Sassenach" as he stilled and came inside, was just low enough that I wouldn't hear his voice break.

  He slumped over me and grasped me to him. We stood like that not moving and buried deep until Jamie's voice came back against my ear, he pressed a wet cheek against my neck.

   "Are ye going to leave me, Claire?"

[franeridart]

Merry Christmas!! I hope you are happy, and have a good New Year! 😁

Thank you!!! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and will have a wonderful New Year too!!

Anon said:aaaaawwwnnn the good ol' platonic (or not, depending on the interpretation) bak*deku

I’m not anti anything anon, so you never gotta worry about that! I have ships I like and ships I don’t and ships I’m indifferent about, but I’m a firm believer in the ship and let ship principle~ sadly bkdk is strictly platonic for me (I see them too much as sibs for it to work in a romantic way, at this point), but I do adore their relationship and the way Horikoshi is writing it TT^TT it’s def one of my favorite Bakugou relationships, such a wonderfully complex story 💕

Anon said:Have you ever thought about drawing Bakushima as different ships? Like, from different shows. Put them in their outfits and such? I thought that wouls be pretty cool. Sorry if someone has already suggested this! I thought maybe Black Butler style ? Fruits basket, Death note, ect. ❤

I have in the past drawn them in AUs inspired by characters from other fandoms, if that’s what you’re asking! At the top of my head I can remember drawing them as Black⭐Star and Tsubaki from Soul Eater, Doumeki and Watanuki from xxxHolic and Jacuzzi and Nice from Baccano!, but I’m sure those are not the only ones... I’m never against that sort of AUs, if you have anything you’d like to see ask and I’ll see if I know the fandom you’re thinking about! :D

Anon said://squints// did your.... Did your lineart imPROVE??? holy maples Fran ur killing me with ur art I wanna survive my last 7 months of high school--

If you think so, then I’m seriously happy and glad to hear it! Thank you so much!! I feel like I’ve been getting sloppier actually, ngl, but I have been trying new tools for the line, so maybe that’s the difference you’re seeing!

Anon said:Gonna say anonymously caz' i'm too embarrassed to reveal myself for now, but I love your blog and art so damn much!!! Been following you for two years and you really inspired me to draw and really to stay in touch with bnha. Again, love you so much and hope you a merry Christmas!!!

Ahhhhh anon thank you so much!!! I’m happy I can make you keep up with bnha, ngl!! And I hope you’ve had a wonderful amazing christmas too!!!

Anon said:Sero with the long hair can murder me

He wouldn’t!

Anon said:what do you think of bakukamijirou 👀

I don’t ship it, sorry :( as far as shipping Bakugou goes, I only ship him around if Kirishima is involved - I do have a few Baku ships I like just for the aesthetics (like with Jirou, or Todoroki!) but I wouldn’t really call it “shipping”, I just like to see them next to each other cause their designs work well together haha

Anon said:Hello? Yes. Hi. Dave I love. Thank you.

I’m so happy to hear that!!! TT^TT thank you so much!!!

Anon said:Kamijirou cures my depression :3

WELL IF THAT ISN’T A MOOD!!

Anon said:Have you every considered a voltron au for your ocs? I know youve made a voltron au befores so i was wondering if you ever did it for anything else (i really love all your art have a lovely day

I’ve never, actually :thinking: the vld fandom is very scary to me so I try to keep away from it, ngl! I’ve also not watched past the first season of the cartoon itself so by now I don’t think I have the necessary information to make AUs based on that fandom, but the concept of my kids in space or piloting mechas is a wonderful one nonetheless haha

Anon said:Ah man I love dav so much. It makes me so happy when you post your sweet green haired boy. Day: brightened.

:sob: thank you SO MUCH!!!! TT^TT it makes me so happy to hear you like my boy!!

Anon said:I love and appreciate every variety of your ocs

THANK YOU!!!💕💕

Anon said:You: This is my boy. | Me: I love him so much and his hair and his shirt- 👌

Thank you so much!! His hair and clothes make less sense every time I draw him, but I have fun with it so I’m glad you like them anyway hahaha

Anon said:Hey! Who is he? He looks cool

Thank you so muuuccchhhh!!! His name is Dave!! He doesn’t really have much of a story, but he’s a uni student and likes music, philosophy and cats! He has a bunch of friends I draw him with now and again, and they mostly spend their time avoiding studying and being generally ridiculous :D

Anon said:Just wanted to let you know your art style is GORGEOUS. You're one of the few people on this site whose art always makes me excited to see it. I'm a huge Bakushima fan to begin with but your Bakugou is just...oof. lol I don't know if it's the hooded eyes or the undercut but you make him HAVE it!

That’s such high praise oh my god! TTOTT I’m glad you like how I draw my boy, he makes me so happy to doodle !!!!! 💞💞💞

Anon said:The two art post with "An unexpected sappy thought" and "Bunch of stuff from yesterday I finally managed to finish" were both flagged. i tried to send them to u, but couldn't. Just thought you should know if you haven't been notified yet! sorry that i cant be much help. (also the protest starts in like 10 min for me, so youre probably off already if youre doing it) sorry for bothering!

Anon said:hey your post (a colored fanart) of kirishima and bakugou cuddling w/ song lyrics as the caption got flagged, just thought i’d let you know if you didn’t see it :( stupid tumblr

These are pretty old asks at this point but I wanted to thank you for the heads up anyway! I have gone through my posts twice already and new flagged things always pop up, so the fact that you took the time to let me know was seriously huge help! Thank you so much!!

Anon said:hi i just saw your year summery-thingy and i just realized that i have followed you for more than a year now and i just want to say thank you for all the beutiful art i have seen !! you are truly one of my favorite artist i hope that you are well

Ah man thank you so much!!! I’m so so happy to hear you’ve been following me that long, it’s incredible to me!! I hope I’ll manage to get out of the slump I’ve fallen into soon enough orz meanwhile thank you for sticking around!! 💕

Anon said:Seeing your art summary makes my soul feel the urge to have your beautiful kiribaku art in a book. Have you ever thought about making a little zine with some of your illustrations? Or selling prints ;___; You're absolutely amazing!

Oh heck thank you so much for being interested in something like that! I’ve actually thought about something of the like, but if I ever did it would be a small zine with pieces made specifically for it! I have to research the whole thing a bit more, but in case I’ll reach a point where it’s a concrete possibility I’d first post something to check the actual interest in it between everyone! ;^;

Anon said:... Why BakuJiro tho?

Why not! They are good friends, have a nice dynamic, and their styles match together well! And Jirou’s so tiny next to him, I like the idea of Baku hugging her a whole lot as it might have become obvious by this point haha

Anon said:7w7r I see you there

I dunno what this is about but !!! neat!!

Anon said:Soooo,,, DabiHawks or Hawks single? I have curious for how would a drawing of them be made by you

I’ve said this a couple of times before, but I’m really only interested in dabihawks if Dabi is Touya at this point! I might change my mind if Hori develops their relationship more, but right now that’s how it is... and until I have more concrete proofs of Touya and Dabi being the same person I don’t wanna get too involved with the ship, in case I end up disappointed haha

Anon said:Fran, have you ever posted a selfie before? For some reason, I imagine you looking a little more like Kuroo from Haikyuu!! Haha.

I haven’t! I prefer being behind the camera instead of before it hahaha a couple years ago you would have been right! By now I have too much hair for it, tho lol also, I wear glasses and have a bunch of piercings and earrings that Kuroo doesn’t have (but should have, cause it’d be hot 👀👀👀)

[dawnstruck]

Song of Solomon 4:7

Ronan Lynch does not believe in sins. He confesses anyway.

[Read on AO3] Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish, character study, pre-slash

At St. Agnes, Sunday morning mass was typically held by Pastor Denver who was as much a staple of Aglionby as the ravens, the big cars, and the boys with more money than wits were.

Ronan who went to church primarily for the family he once had and the family he still had left, had always liked Pastor Denver. He would still go to mass, even if he didn't like him, but he wouldn't do it quite this easily. This religiously.

Pastor Denver was ancient, from Ronan's own teenaged-yet-old-beyond-his-years perspective. He was sturdy for someone closing in on seventy, not quite stooped with age, and his face was more weathered by the sun than wizened by the passage of time.

Some days, the only real proof of how long he had been around was his snow white hair and the liver spots marking his hands, but his liberal smile and the twinkle in his eyes more than made up for that.

Ronan never quite knew what he else liked about going to church, except for that it had long been a habit and, even for him, those were hard to break. Especially since they connected him to his father in ways that had little to do with blood or real magic.

He didn't quite like kneeling on the pews. Didn't quite like praying and hoping that someone not-Cabeswater was actually listening. He didn't quite like staring at smooth-yet-cracked-in-some-places wooden Jesus on the cross behind the altar that had been a generous gift from an alumni and that was supposedly 300 years old. He didn't quite like going to confession.

But he liked Pastor Denver. So he went to confession anyway.

He wouldn't have, under most circumstances, as Ronan did not truly believe in sins.

He used the word 'fuck' like others said 'please' or 'thanks', just more viciously and with more versatile applications. He punched people he hated and sometimes he punched people he maybe-still-kind-of-loved. He spent entirely too much time looking at another boy and even more time just thinking about him.

In the recesses of his mind, a voice that sounded too reasonable to not have been inspired by Gansey told him that he was just using this as a substitute instead of actually getting a proper therapist. That even someone like Ronan Lynch occasionally needed someone who listened to him without bias.

Pastor Denver, surprisingly, was someone like that.

For all intents and purposes, he shouldn't have been.

He was from somewhere in Virginia, another town much like Henrietta, maybe even a little more backwater. Not an Aglionby boy himself, but still from a well-to-do family. Upstandingly pious and simply born and raised in a different time.

Boys who came to him after service or throughout the week spoke of weed and other vices. They confessed frustration with their studies, anger at their parents. They were told to speak three Ave Marias, they did, they felt absolved.

Ronan, who did not believe in sins, did not believe in absolution either.

"What brings you here, my child?" Pastor Denver asks kindly when Ronan pulls the rickety door of the confessional shut behind himself and sinks down on the worn velvet of the bench. Pastor Denver does not have to glance through the grid separating the two stalls to know who he is talking to. He'll recognize Ronan's voice, of course, but he also recognizes Ronan's gait, Ronan's attitude.

Ronan never says, Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, as sins are void and meaningless, a human invention where he believed in animal law.

"He had a fight with Blue and they broke up. I think. They didn't really say anything."

No introduction, no pleasantries. Pastor Denver does not need them.

"Did that make you feel relief?" he asks.

Numbly, Ronan shakes his head, his near-naked scalp dragging against the wooden wall behind him. Pastor Denver can't see that, though, so Ronan says, "I wasn't relieved. I was..." He ponders on the word, finds no better one. "Sad."

"Why sad?" "Because," he says slowly, "I thought they would be good. For each other. Blue would be good for him."

"Do you think he needs someone good?" "He needs someone who loves him."

"And did she?"

"I thought so," Ronan purses his lips. If he really thinks about it, it's stupid. Blue is sixteen and scruffy and hungry for something more than another Henrietta kid also hungry for something more. They are too alike in that regard. Too starved for change.

Ronan balls his hands to fists and unclenches them. He has too much change in his bones.

"Maybe she did," he continues, "Maybe she could have, eventually. But now that's done."

He had seen the look in Blue's eyes when she looked at who was now her ex though he had never really been her boyfriend to begin with wasn't the look of teenage girl who felt she had been wronged, though Ronan had to admit that he didn't know much about teenage girls. Blue had been sad and scared and worried and angry and proud and selfless in her selfishness, and that Ronan did know a lot about.

“And he?” Pastor Denver asks. He never says the name, though Ronan thinks that might be because he himself had never explicitly mentioned it. Maybe Pastor Denver thinks he has been talking about Gansey all this time, or about some other boy. Or maybe Ronan is really that obvious. That is his greatest fear, next to night terrors and memories of finding his father's body or thinking of wasps in Gansey's mouth, his lungs, his heart.

“He what?” he asks.

“Did he love her?”

Ronan thinks about his own wording for a long moment, even though he has known the answer for a long while.

“I think he is so starved for love that he would accept it from anyone at all,” he tries finally. Maybe this is why he never needed to say the name here; it obviously wasn't about Gansey. “I think he doesn't quite know the difference and so he would hold on to cheap facsimiles.”

It had taken months and a deaf ear to finally get him out of that trailer park and, on some days, he still seemed like he'd rather go back that acknowledge that his own parents did not love him in a way that deserved to be call love.

“And you?” Pastor Denver asks and Ronan sucks in a breath. They'd never spoken about that either. It had hung there, like cobwebs surreptitiously spun in the dark and when you took a step to far you got a mouthful of it and couldn't help but feel betrayed even though it was you who had decided to not simply turn on the lights.

“Doesn't matter,” he says, drawing a veil of carelessness over his voice, “This is not about me.”

He likes to pretend, sometimes, that he is not here for himself. Not for his supposed sins, certainly, but also not for his souls. Just a favor for a friend who does not know about it.

This is not about how Kavinsky calls him faggot and makes suggestive gestures at him. Not about how Adam and Gansey and even fucking Noah make cow eyes at Blue like breasts were a new invention. It's not about Ronan deciding against sleep and nightmares and lying awake in the dark instead, turning the word 'gay' over and over in his mind. Maybe that's it, though. Maybe he is actually sleeping when he thinks about it, maybe him poking at it and touching it with curious hands had made it become real. Maybe it never was a part of him, but he made it one, because it was a strange dream thing and he had brought it into his world.

Maybe it could be unmade.

“Ronan,” Pastor Denver says and it's rare that he addresses him directly because this is still happening under the guise of faux anonymity.. Automatically, Ronan sits up a little straighter. He does not do that for just any authority figure, but clergymen are to be respected, for the most part.

“Ronan,” the old man repeats and he has leaned forward a little. The tip of his hooked nose is barely visible behind the grid. “You are very mature, for your age.”

It's rare that someone would say that about Ronan. Most people think him a prissy brat, an adolescent caught in his rebellious phase who needed someone to shake him and set him on a straight path again.

Hah, Ronan thinks pathetically. Straight.

Pastor Denver knows a little about Ronan, of course. He knows of his murdered father and his comatose mother and his overbearing older brother. The Lynch family name in general is well known, though people know little about the individuals.

So maybe Pastor Denver inferred that Ronan was mature by the way he had not shed a single tear at his father's open grave, had instead held his little brother's hand because their mother was already absent even then. Maybe he could tell from the blue shadows underneath Ronan's eyes and the way his jaw was almost continuously gritted in a manner that was not at all recommended by leading dentists. Maybe he had heard enough confessions in his life to be able to suss people out, just like that.

“But you are also still very young,” Pastor Denver continuous and that, at least, is familiar territory. Unlike Declan, however, he manages to say it without condescension.

“So?” Ronan demands anyway, his shoulders hunching up in a reaction he tells himself is more aggressive than defensive.

“It's alright for you to feel like you don't quite fit,” Pastor Denver says in his broad Virginian accent. When he preaches, his Latin has the same accent and Ronan has always liked something about that, too, that it was not really a dead language, but that it still developed and adapted. “It's alright if there are parts of you that you don't yet understand.”

He means the unspoken gay thing and the not-all-done-with-puberty thing. The you-experienced-terrible-tragedy-at-a-very-crucial-stage-in-your-life thing is in there, too, probably, but Ronan kind of wants to laugh. The pastor, for all his belief in higher powers, knows not a thing about dreams or ley lines or immortal kings.

But he does know how Ronan's voice goes a little tender, a little reverent when he speaks of the boy with the name-that-is-not-named, and maybe that is enough.

“What should I do?” Ronan asks, even though he never asks anyone for advice ever.

“Go,” Pastor Denver says heartily, “Live a little, enjoy the day. You never know how many there are left.”

“Carpe diem?” Ronan says wryly, “Really?”

“YOLO, as the the youngins say,” Pastor Denver replies, flippant. “Oh God,” Ronan snorts, his abs contracting with what wants to be full-bellied laughter, and he doesn't even care that he took the Lord's name in vain while in church because the priest honestly just said YOLO and that is probably just as bad.

Pastor Denver has no idea that death features a little more prominently in the lives of Ronan and his friends, but maybe his words have some wisdom to them anyway.

“Run along now,” the old man tells him, “From what I could smell over the incense there were at least two of your peers who need to repent for the use of certain borderline illegal substances.”

Ronan grins, already getting up from his seat, when he remembers something.

“Should I pray?” he asks, fingertips on the brazen door handle.

“No,” the pastor says, “There are no sins to absolve. Go buy yourself some ice cream and enjoy the sunshine.”

So Ronan goes, saunters down along the side of the pews where the boys who sing in the choir are almost done with re-arranging the Bibles. He's got his hands jammed into the pockets of his slacks, though it does not quite have the same effect as it would with his ripped jeans, and when he gets to the heavy oaken doors he shoves one open with his left shoulder.

Light greets him, almost blinding after the comforting darkness of the confessional, and he has to blink and wait for his eyes to adjust.

When he does, his very own messiah is awaiting him.

Sitting on the small set of stairs that leads up to the chapel, Adam Parrish has his elbows braced against his knees and it watching the sporadic Sunday morning traffic. When he hears the hinges of the door, he glances back and up at Ronan.

“Took a while,” he says, as though he had been waiting here since mass was over. Since before that, even.

“Got a lot of sins to get of my chest,” Ronan says, even though he does not believe in sins.

Adam looks at him like he might know that, but he just stands up, unnecessarily brushes the dust off his pants and asks , “Man upstairs been listening?”

“Nah,” Ronan tilts his head back, so far that the tendons in his neck are straining. He squints up at the violent blue of the sky. “He doesn't bother with the small fish.”

“Ronan Lynch, a small fish,” Adam echoes in disbelief, but then he jostles Ronan with his shoulder, “I would've thought you were a shark, with that smile and that blood thirst of yours.”

Ronan bares his teeth and jostles him right back, nearly hip-checks him right off the stairs and into the downtrodden grass. But a not-that-little part of him is pleased, pleased because apparently Adam sometimes thought about the way he smiled and, last year in Biology, the two of them had held a presentation about apex predators (upon Ronan's insistence), and Adam had gotten them an A by explaining how sharks were terribly misunderstood creatures who really did not kill all that many people.

Humans, they both knew, were the most fearsome animals of all.

“Wanna get some ice cream?” Ronan asks, non-sequitur.

“It's not that hot,” Adam says, as though no one had ever had ice cream outside of summer.

“C'mon,” Ronan says, “My treat.”

Wrong thing to say, of course.

“Ronan,” Adam starts, his chest puffing up.

“Hey,” Ronan says, poking him in the sternum. Adam's breath rushes out in a sudden gush.

“There's that hot air we need to justify getting ice cream,” Ronan teases, “You did your share, I'll do mine.”

He winks at him, quite cheekily, to defuse the bomb or take the wind out of Adam's desperately self-sufficient sails, he's not quite sure, and Adam-

Adam stills and glances away with lowered lashes.

“Alright,” he says, a little too softly to not make the moment feel somewhat meaningful, “Let's go.”

Together, they cross the parking lot, over to Ronan's gleaning BMW, and Ronan gets behind the wheel and Adam gets on the passenger seat. It's rare, these days, for them to be alone together, and that in itself makes it feel tantalizing. As though they were actually going on a date, instead of Ronan just playing make-belief.

That's fine, though. Ronan has always been a dreamer.

And, he reminds himself, as he revs the engine but does not turn up his thudding music, his dreams have a habit of becoming reality anyway.

Song of Solomon 4:7 You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.