#castillon writes

[castillon02]

When Jason starts to prioritize cooperation as well as vengeance, Tim suspects Jason's self-control still isn't that great. Since he's Tim, well...

He conducts some tests.

Hood is about to murder someone that they need information from when Tim calls out, "Hey, Hood, has anyone ever told you that you're a Decepticon wannabe who probably fucks himself to the sound of his own robot voice?"

Hood stills.

The drug dealer who sold tenth-grader Benny Garcia fentanyl gapes in a way that shows off his recently-missing teeth.

Hood drops the dealer in a heap and turns his shitkicker combat boots in Tim's direction.

Tim bolts. Batman will swoop in to continue the dealer's interrogation; he and Hood have figured out a good-cop-bad-cop thing, though Batman still seems bemused about the chance to be 'good cop.'

Hood races after him.

---

Tim makes it to a safe house off of Robinson Park. He probably lost Hood about half an hour ago, but it never hurts to be careful. Especially when---oh, shit.

"This place is filthy," Jason says, sitting on the kitchen counter that Tim never uses and looking with disdain at Tim's collection of empty energy drink cans, takeout boxes, and crime yarn. Jason's not wearing his helmet or domino, and he taps his boot heels softly against the cabinet door like a little kid. Not exactly danger signals.

But for a moment, all Tim can look at is the boots. It's stupid; the knife at his neck was closer to fatal. But the kicking had hurt the worst.

"Since you apparently have time to run your mouth," Jason says, "and since someone stole my target, it seems like we both have time to clean up in here. I went out and got trash bags." He nudges a box on the counter next to him. The trash bags are the sturdy kind, not the flimsy cheap kind or the extra-strength hide-the-body-parts kind.

Tim has been meaning to get trash bags for this place for three weeks. It's just that he doesn't visit often, and when he does it's usually when he's injured or tired, and he could get things delivered but that's a paper trail he could avoid if he just made time to visit the bodega down the street... "You're a trash bag," he says, even though it doesn't make sense.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Just for that, we're mopping the floor too. Luckily, I came prepared." He hops down from the counter and opens the little mystery closet next to the fridge. Inside: a broom, a Swiffer, a bucket, a pack of scrub brushes still in their plastic, and a jug of bleach.

Ohhh, that's why the closet is so narrow. It's supposed to hold cleaning supplies. Right. Tim definitely knew that. Tim definitely doesn't just have a roll of paper towels...somewhere...that he sometimes puts dish soap on.

He squints at Jason. Still no green danger-eyes. "Darcy and Elizabeth would never let you be part of a throuple with them," he tries.

Jason pulls out a trash bag. "They've got issues anyway."

"Helen Keller would make up new words so she could sign how ugly your face is."

"She was a socialist," Jason says. He holds the bag and gestures at Tim's kitchen table. "So we'd probably just talk about organizing the working class. I don't think looks would come into it. Also, way to be a dick."

"You're so pathetic that Jane Eyre would give up on you like she didn't give up on Rochester," Tim says, figuring he did the research for this attack, so he might as well use it.

Jason actually laughs a little bit. "First of all, there's a lot of power exchange going on in that decision, so jot that down," he says. "Second of all." He looks Tim in the face. "If I start to lose my temper, I'll leave, okay? Or you can just ask me to."

"Even if I asked right now?" Tim asks.

"Even if you asked right now," Jason confirms, though he eyeballs Tim's mess.

Jason's still holding the trash bag. Hands out, open body language, seemingly not homicidal.

Tim had planned for a lot of things with this encounter, including a body bag. Trash bags weren't one of his considered variables. He starts picking up empty cans. "This one can be for recycling," he says, dumping the cans into Jason's bag. New things from old materials. Jason likes that symbolism shit, right?

(Though...new things. Old materials. If there's anyone who ought to be good at that, it's someone who got raised from the dead.

Tim smirks and keeps the thought to himself. Operation: Limitless has been a startling success; he doesn't need to verbalize all his inside thoughts now.)

("Kid, I can tell you're thinking about a zombie joke," Jason says anyway. "You can only tell me after we've brought this shit-heap back to life.")

[redlyriumidol]

things that would have been cool writing choices for dragon age imo, not necessarily better just interesting:

loghain doing the dark ritual on his own if the warden chooses not to. I'm not sure this is in character really it just would have been wild for a character to make a Decision like that without you. maybe only if you have low approval or something (even though its difficult to get approval either way bc you get him so late)

anders somehow using gaatlok to blow up the chantry. much as i enjoy digging through sewers for poo crystals this would have tied the various plots between acts together so nicely. this one i legitimately think would have been better.

I said this in a different post but not allowing you to go to the circle during the arl of redcliffe because it's a cheap copout and makes no sense. either give us consequences for running off and spending 300 hrs in the fade or force us to make a hard choice.

a fourth secret persuade option for mage wardens to let eamon be possessed instead of killing connor or isolde. I know i've said this a lot. But the deal would be Arl Deamon agrees to act the part until the blight is over and the dialogue is slightly different during the landsmeet etc and ur the only one who knows why. ;) epilogue slide where he's eventually discovered and killed but not before he Wreaks some Havoc

giving thrask and grace more protagonism in da2 and having them survive, and THEY become the mage/templar leaders in dai rather than randos samson and calpernia.

an acknowledgment in the anders romance that justice is ALSO in love with hawke. awakening anders was a fun flirty commitmentphobe whereas justice was an intense weirdo about kristoff and aura's relationship and even expressed jealousy towards them. which was soooo interesting. anders being so intense and lowkey possessive (love him tho) in the romance makes so much more sense if it's actually coming from justice. "justice doesn't approve of my obsession with you" bro justice IS the obsession be fr.

isabela not betraying you in the fade if she has 100% approval and is romanced. i always find this out of character especially since she betrays you JUST for a ship and not anything actually meaningful like the others. or if it was a ship but the demon's offer was more explicitly about freedom/escaping from castillon (which can be read btwn the lines but I think it should have been more obvious) that would have been much better.

[elliesbabygirl]

Hypophrenia

Ellie Williams x Female!reader

Summary: A sudden meltdown near Ellie causes you to worry about her attraction to you. Ellie and reader are in a relationship already .

Warnings: Crying, mentions of a panic attack, nail picking and a college wellness center (we all know college centers suck ).

Author's note: New piece of writing, who's excited? Hopefully, this piece turns out alright in the public eye and obviously encourages me to try new styles and write more often!. Reblogs, comments & likes are greatly appreciated.

Wc: 0.8

Hypophrenia

[hi-po-fre-ne-a ] • Greek

(n) A vague feeling of sadness, seemingly without any cause.

Now playing: I just wanna feel your love again - Montell Fish

“Ms.l/n”

You didn't mean for it to happen, one minute you're fine and dandy. The next you're hyperventilating while your vision becomes blurry. The worst part was Ellie noticing your meltdown and immediately getting up from her seat to notify the professor.

“Ms.l/n!”

A low voice caught your attention, you couldn't bother responding fully instead choosing to hum to let them know you're listening.

“How are you? Ms.williams said you were experiencing..issues? I'm dr.Castillon and I am one of the many counselors here for students like you. Which you obviously know, care to explain what happened today?”

Great, a wellness center. Ellie brought you to a wellness center, she thought something was wrong with you. You pinched and picked at the skin surrounding your nails as you looked up at dr.Castillon.

“Nothing's wrong, I just had a moment in my lecture s'all”

You responded, eyes wary as you looked around at the office space. Lightly cluttered, strong smell of coffee and degrees all over the walls.

“You had a moment? Do you wanna explain that to me?” Dr.Castillon asked as they readjusted themselves into a more entertained position, the chair squeaking as they laid back.

You didn't have to look back to know that castillon was giving you a condescending smile. The speed of which you picked your nails at increasing as you felt trapped in a box.

“Is this neces-”

A knock at the door interrupted you, moving to look behind you as the door quietly opened to reveal what looked like another counselor to you.

"Castillon- oh forgive me, I don't mean to interrupt but dr.Castillion is needed” Seeing your chance, you nodded at light speed. Already up from your chair as you grabbed your backpack, shrugging it on.

"nono, it's okay! There's something I need to do anyways"

Slipping past the other counselor, you hurried through the small hall. Eyes focused on the ground as you entered the waiting room. Ellie stood up, eyes full of worry as she came closer to you.

“baby, are you okay?”

You gave her a measly smile as you ignored her question and hurried outside. The chilly november air welcoming you with a harsh kiss to the face, your breath visible as you walked away from Ellie.

You couldn't face her, not now. Not after she had to drag you all the way to the wellness center like a crying baby. The embarrassment was eating you alive as you heard her trying to keep up with you.

“Y/n, wait up! What's wrong?!”

God, you wish the world would just open up and swallow you whole. You couldn't bare having to see her face to face and explain what was wrong.

Because the truth was, you didn't know. You didn't know why you had these episodes? Could you even call them that? It seemed like a stretch to call them episodes and you couldn't call them panic attacks because it just came on whenever you were fine with no probable cause.

“Y/n! Listen to me!”

Ellie stopped in front of you, hands on your shoulders to keep you from running away. Her lips in a small pout as she took in the way you looked and it was then when she realised that you had looked tired.

Your eyes dead as you just stared at her with no will to response. How long had you been feeling this way? And why didn't you tell her? It made Ellie feel like a bad girlfriend and an even worse friend.

“Oh baby..”

She wrapped you in a hug, tears pricking her own eyes as she nestled her face into the crook of your neck. Ellie shuddered, the feeling of her brown jacket against your own puffer motivating you to hug her back.

She could sense your insecurity, you were scared of how she would react. Scared that Ellie wouldn't wanna be with you, all because of a meltdown and it broke her heart.

“Baby, I love you..and nothing's going to change that okay?" she whispered into your neck, her hand finding the back of your head as she slightly massaged your hair.

The two of you might've looked weird, hugging in the middle of the walkway while crying but Ellie couldn't give a single fuck neither could you because you needed her in that moment and she knew that too.

© 𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 ─ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨.

[yeahtimesten]

a playlist for patrick zweig ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

i made a playlist thinking about this man and idk this is what i think it would be like… to be with him i guess? this playlist is sexy, sweet, angsty, passionate. i hope yall see the vision…. enjoy :3

fall in love - phantogram love it was enough to recognize to see i was the reason you feel sick inside

washing machine heart - mitski baby, will you kiss me already? and toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart baby, bang it up inside

always forever - cults you know you’ve got me in your pocket you don’t just have to wait around you know i’ll keep you in my locket just come here and we can settle down

juna - clairo why would i let you in? but i think again i don’t even try, i don’t have to think with you there’s no pretending you know me

kingston - faye webster it’s the thought of you that slightly scares me but it takes my breath away, forget what i was gonna say the day that i met you i started dreaming now i write em down if i remember in the morning time

step on me - the cardigans oh, i think you’re holding this heart of mine (my heart is yours) squeeze it apart, that’s fine

roi - videoclub, adéle castillon, mattyeux (english translation of lyrics) the lasting days, fleeing the night, i traverse your skin, i traverse the city the sweet smoke from your mouth leaves, escapes day by day when i reign in the night, im alone with my sins

air supply - sweet trip don’t make me smile if you don’t intend to only make me try if you can pretend to

everybody here wants you - jeff buckley and our eyes locked in downcast love i sit here proud even now you’re undressed in your dreams with me oh, i’m only here in this moment i know everybody here wants you

trash magic - lana del rey boy, you wanna go to my motel, honey? boy, you wanna hold me down, tell me that you love me? boy, you know that i have really never loved nobody but you?

perfect girl - marreux you’re such a strange girl the way you look like you do you’re such a strange girl i want to be with you

glory box - portishead just give me a reason to love you give me a reason to be a woman i just wanna be a woman

talk show host - radiohead you want me? fucking come on and break the door down i’m ready

margaret - lana del rey (ft. the bleachers) if you’re asking yourself, “how do you know?” then that’s your answer, your answer is no you gotta run, gotta run, run, run, run, like your heads on fire

heart to heart - mac demarco to the days we spent together to all the times we played a part in each others lives heart to heart

i’m your man - leonard cohen if you want a father for your child or only want to walk with me another mile across the sand i’m your man if you want a lover i’ll do anything you ask me to and if you want another kind of love i’ll wear another mask for you

i dunno what i’m doing on this account lol, i watched the movie super late and have been using my main acc to read fics and snoop in the fandom but i made this playlist and really needed to share it with lyrics so here!!! perhaps, if you want explanations or little blurbs based on any of these songs or others, send me an ask and maybe i’ll do something with them!!!

i’m also not sure if posts like this are interesting at all, but i’m also putting together playlists for tashi and art atm!!!

[vigilxnte-shit]

chapter one: fresh out the slammer

i choose you and me, religiously || matt murdock x éliette de castillon || a taylor swift-inspired matt murdock x oc love story

masterlist here || 18+ fic, minors go away

summary: after five years in a loveless marriage, éliette de castillon leaves her small town in upstate new york on a train bound for hell’s kitchen. she has nothing to start her new life- no car, no phone, no money, just the hope that a former acquaintance with a conflict of interest may be able to break the holy ties that bind her. 

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse

word count: 1685

a/n: i want to dedicate this first chapter to the entire murdock tuna team 🐟 and especially to darling @a-leg-without-fear and @yarrystyleeza for inspiring me and proofreading!! i love this entire server and the community we've developed, thank you to everyone in the server for inspiring me to get back into writing!

at first, she had thought the rain would be refreshing. she thought the walk would clear her mind, that after five hours on a bus and braving the c-line with no cell phone she would enjoy the peace and quiet and the feeling of being clean. instead, she just felt freezing cold, exhausted, and alone. 

she had spent the multiple bus rides from cobleskill in silence, absorbed in the book she had brought, refusing to make eye contact with anyone- she could never know who knew sam, if any of her busmates were secret compatriots of her soon-to-be ex-husband, and so she had opted to err on the side of caution until the last half hour of the second bus trip. she’d gotten carsick then, setting her book into her bag and staring out the window. she had watched the city come into view, the sun just hitting a low point in the west as she stepped off to the subway station.

hell’s kitchen welcomed her home with that smell- not a good one, necessarily, but the smell of the city. she took the steps down to the subway just as the rain started, and the ceaseless chatter and grimy handrails brought her back to six again. her childhood hadn’t been a happy one, but the idea somehow comforted her. new york city had been bigger when she was six. still scary, but in a different way, in a vivid, huge, and encapsulating way; a way that she chose to visualize as she stepped onto the subway and left her married name on the platform. 

her sense of hope had dwindled as she ascended a different set of stairs at the next station, when she walked out of the underground to a world caged in by gray. the rain was pouring now, and she definitely didn’t have an umbrella. she shielded her eyes as she looked up at the sky, hoping that if god was real, he was listening. 

“you’re not doing yourself any favors,” she muttered to him. the sky answered with a clap of thunder, and she rolled her eyes. maybe the church was right. maybe this was punishment for breaking her vow, for leaving her marriage. 

she didn’t have time to think about that as she tugged her notebook from her bag, shielding it from the rain. she had written down the directions to the office in pink gel pen, the closest stationery she could find- it was already hard to read, she couldn’t risk water damage, too. 

she leaned over towards the wall,  visoring the notebook with her hand. she cursed herself from eight hours ago from this handwriting- in addition to the unfortunate decision of pen, the cursive letters were swiftly scribbled, sometimes running together or breaking in the middle of words. after half a minute of whispered profanities and huffing, she finally pieced her own words together, staring at the page in annoyance. 

the good news was, she was close. the neighborhood was only an eight-minute walk away, and from there the office was only a couple more. only fifteen minutes and she would arrive at the concrete doorstep. she had hoped she would arrive looking semi-put together, but this rain didn’t seem to be going anywhere. 

with a grumble, she closed the notebook, holding it tight to her chest just in case. she set off towards 50th street, the spring in her step rusted by the rain soaking through her strawberry blonde curls and black pencil skirt. her arms wrapped around the notebook like an embrace, a gesture she was all too used to gracing herself with.

as she walked, trying not to focus on the cold, she thought about matt. it had been years since the two of them had last met- he had been in his second year of grad school, a year ahead of sam. el had attended three parties that overlapped with matt, her hand holding to sam’s elbow as he tugged her from clique to clique, seen but never heard. everyone had marvelled at how he’d done it, how the pastor’s son and future district attorney had settled upon the quiet girl from a foster home. she had never had anything to say to these comments, simply smiling and nodding, eventually breaking off to go sit by the alcohol that she was too young to touch. 

that was how she’d met matt. she had sat down by him without thinking, desperate to just take a break from the overstimulating noise and the headache-inducing crowd and the overwhelming sense of christian guilt taking over her soul. it made the room felt too small; everything reeked of either alcohol or sex or some combination of both and then some. she had clutched her rosary in her fingers and as she sat down, already preparing for how she would take this to confessional. her heart raced at the thought, her world spun and she felt the tips of her fingers go cold. this was her fault. she should have talked sam out of attending the party, should have reminded him-

“hey, are you okay?” 

the concerned voice had broken her spiral meditation, her head jerking to the side and witnessed an image that would never leave her head: a young man with wavy chestnut hair, his brows furrowed and his eyes hidden by a pair of dark-tinted glasses. 

“your breath picked up,” the young man had said. “it sounded like you were about to hyperventilate.”

“i…i’m okay, thank you,” el had answered timidly.

and then she had seen something that would haunt her every day of her married life, a sight that carried her through every argument and each tear she cried and any rare sliver of happiness she experienced. 

she saw him smile. this young stranger, who seemed to be blind, who had never met her before, had smiled at her. and his smile was beautiful. dimpled on the right side, with perfect teeth and a type of warmness that lit up the entire room. it reminded her of the nimbus in all the portraits of christ, illuminated the entire space around him. 

“i’m matt,” he had said softly, extending his hand. 

“el,” she smiled back. his hands were just as warm as his smile, just as friendly and open. 

but before she could say anything else, before she could tell him she loved his smile or thank him for checking on her, she heard those footsteps. the world went back to grayscale, growing paler with each step towards her before the world went completely black and white when his hands settled on her shoulders.

“murdock! i see you’ve met my fiancée,” sam had gloated, his voice taunting and drunken. this was the routine, this was what el was used to- being sam’s trophy, his success story, the project that proved his worth. an immigrant with a dark background on her way to being his wife. 

that was something that hadn’t changed throughout their marriage. that was the monochrome world she’d come to know as she sat night after night at the kitchen table, being force-fed everything she did wrong. burning the dinner, trying to go to college and be a lawyer, forgetting to pick up coffee- it was all destructive, all laziness and delusion, all god telling her that she was too defiant and should learn to obey her husband. 

sam’s nightly sermons were loud and angry and targeted, but still they fell on deaf ears. she would sit in the dining room chairs and nod, let the occasional “mmhmm” slip, and think back to that college party where the world was brighter and warmer. 

el and matt had met twice more after that night, both times at other parties. she had no clue if he would somehow recognize her, if he would even remember her, but if nothing else, she had to try. 

when she saw the sign, she tensed up a bit. what if he was still talking with sam? what if he was in on this whole thing, and was about to send her right back to him as soon as she opened that office door? 

the rain didn't stop. it kept pouring down on her, almost with a newfound intensity, forcing her hand- she couldn’t stand and freeze in the street forever. 

with a nod, she clicked her heels along the concrete towards the door with the little sign. it was 6:26, and the sign reading Nelson & Murdock stated the office closed at 7. she had made it in time. she hugged her arms for just a moment longer before she tucked her notebook back into its bag, never taking her eyes off the sign as she reached for the knob and turned it.

the rain stopped when she crossed the threshold. it was warm inside, the rise in temperature making her acutely aware of just how drenched her clothes were, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to care much. she scanned the room, taking it in, before her eyes landed on a desk in the middle of the office. three people sat around it: a pretty blonde woman with the biggest blue eyes el had ever seen, a familiar shaggy haircut with a side profile that she couldn’t quite place a name to, and the one person she’d made this whole journey for. she barely had time to identify him after entering, recognizing his deep brown hair milliseconds before he urgently spun around.

she couldn’t meet his eyes. they were still covered by deep tinted glasses, only not the rectangular, black frames that she had often seen so clearly  in her mind. they were round now, gold trim with deep red lenses. he looked sophisticated, mysterious, and above all- shocked. his friends looked confused, their eyes looking to him for an explanation. he never gave one. 

his eyebrows raised above the line of his glasses, his dimple lost in the shock. he clearly hadn’t been expecting her arrival. when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost fantastical, like was in a dream.

“èliette?”

[manhandlememando]

The Alcott Ch. 2

Chapter 2: right where you left me

jay halstead x f!reader, frank castle x f!reader

tw: lil bit of angst, mentions of murder, descriptions of violence and bodily injuries, blood mention, 3rd person POV (she/ her)

chicago pd x the punisher crossover

(series is ongoing)

She couldn’t let it go. Every fiber of her being begged her to let the whole situation lie, but she couldn’t. Being an investigative reporter by trade she was too curious for her own good. Having gotten a job reporting for a news broadcasting company in downtown Chicago, her first instinct was to write about the incident. However, she knew that by coming to her editors with a story about a murderous vigilante having risen from the dead, she would be fired instantaneously.

Her curiosity ate away at her as the days passed after her encounter with the vigilante. How was he alive? She thought to herself. She had seen firsthand the explosion that was supposed to kill him, and it didn’t seem like someone would have been able to survive it. There was also a body found in the wreckage that matched his descriptors and with that the case had been closed. It had been over a year since then and now suddenly he had resurfaced in Chicago. She had to know why?

She was still stuck, frozen and staring into that dark alley. Her breath hitching at the memory of seeing that flash of his face. The hood he was wearing covered most of his face but the street lamp at the very edge of the alley provided her with a flash of light to his face as he stalked towards her.

She couldn’t forget the way his arms encased her with pressure but not force, it was clear he didn’t want to hurt her in any way. That is what puzzled her the most; how could a serial murderer not want to kill someone?

Unless he wasn’t one.

Looking at his mugshot staring back at her from her computer screen, she only had one thought; who was the real Frank Castle?

————————————————

Frank’s P.O.V

Blow after blow echoed throughout the skeletal body of the building, the unfinished walls causing the sounds of the hammer to bounce between them. His roars did the same. Growling animalistically as he brought the hammer down onto concrete over, and over, and over again.

Working construction was the only way Frank could make a living now that his identity had to be stripped. He was now known as “Pete Castillone” and all he had to the name was a construction job and a one bedroom apartment. After his very timely death on the East Coast, he decided to use his newfound anonymity to his advantage. Traveling the country in search of more of those who were responsible for his family’s murder. However, since coming to Chicago, the life that “Pete” lived was very simple and very quiet. Frank needed that, after everything that had happened he needed the quiet. Although, “quiet” is typically synonymous with “alone”, and that’s NOT what Frank needed and he feared it had become something of a curse for him.

About a week ago, Frank had picked up some chatter about a local Chicago gang having had something to do with a family massacre in New York. Rival gang war had gone national apparently. Frank knew that the cartels in New York City were responsible, however he didn’t know which cartel, or whom within them actually had anything to do with it. However, having tracked down one of the members of the local gang, Frank found his opportunity to get the information he needed with whatever means necessary.

A harsh yell escapes his lips as he brings the sledgehammer down again onto the concrete. With each impact of the hammer he began to relive the other night all over again.

The tire iron in his hand coming down onto the man’s chest, over and over again.

“Who gave the FUCKING ORDER?!” Frank screamed as the man lies silently, gurgling blood from his mouth.

Having come to Chicago with the sole intention of finally avenging his murdered wife, son, and daughter, Frank thought his mission would be simpler than it was turning out to be. The more people he found, the more secrets he uncovered on the true identity of the person who ordered the execution of his family.

As the man laid on the ground, breathing his last breaths, he sighed the name of the person Frank was really looking for: “Agent Orange”.

Frank dissipates back into reality, holding the hammer limply in his fist. Looking around for a second, taking in his surroundings, Frank breathes a deep sigh and takes a seat on the dusty concrete floor. As he continues to relive the other night, his mind then falls on the young woman who had mistakenly stumbled upon the scenario. A pang of guilt runs down Franks spine, she had looked so terrified of him.

Rightfully so, he thinks to himself. His brutality scared even him at times, but seeing that same feeling reflected back at him on such a beautiful face shifted something in him. In a moment of pure inhuman rage, he was reminded of the fragility of the human spirit as he looked up to see her face.

“You’ll kill him!” He remembers her shouting, as if the man wasn’t already dead. He remembers her shaking hands and the gun she clutched for dear life but couldn’t bring herself to fire. It was incredibly courageous when he thought about it, having every opportunity to run and yet she chose to try and protect her fellow man. He knew in that moment he couldn’t hurt her, not that he wanted to, but he’s had to bury secrets in unmarked graves before.

In the split second he had, his mind landed on the only option available to him; neutralize the situation. He towered over her, his frame encompassing hers in an instant, clutching a hand over her mouth to silence her screams.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he quietly coos in her ear, “ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he assured her. Having disarmed her before capturing her in his hold, he didn’t know how to proceed. The threat was minimized and he had gotten her to quiet down, so his only logical choice was to release her.

“I swear to God I won’t hurt ya, but if I let you go, will you scream?” He speaks gruffly in her ear, hand still over her mouth. He remembers how she was shaking against him, he can’t get it out of his head. The way she was repulsed by him, it made him look back on the memory with shame.

When he did let her go a small fist came flying up instantly and landed on the bridge of his nose, breaking it. Clutching his face, he groans and falls back against the brick wall. As he looks up he sees her vanishing into the night, a small glimpse of the blood-covered blouse is the last thing he saw before she was out of sight.

He’s still stuck in that alley holding her shaking, terrified form, hearing her whimpers and seeing the fear in her eyes.

He can’t be anywhere else.

—————————————

Jay’s P.O.V

“Hey there space cadet, which planet are you visiting now?” Jay’s voice comes from behind her, standing in the doorway to her room, watching as she stares blankly out her bedroom window. Turning her head to meet his gaze, her demeanor softens instantly and she gets up to greet him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even hear you come in,” she says as her boyfriend pulls her into his strong chest, placing a kiss to her forehead as he cradles the back of her head.

“Hey baby, you doing okay?” He says after a moment of comfortable silence between them. Shifting her face to look up at him, she smiles innocently.

“Yeah, of course, why?” She reassures him, but he knows her too well.

“You just seem… off, ever since the other night,” he says, dipping his head to catch her eyes, trying to break this barrier she had built up over the last several days.

“Jay, I’m fine, I swear. Just preoccupied with this new article I’m writing,” she lies, placing a hand to the side of his face as she brings it down to hers, kissing him deeply. He pulls away, shaking his head slightly and gently cupping her face in his palms.

“I know you better than that, baby. Come on, let me into your golden thinking,” he speaks as he moves a piece of hair from her face.

“Everything’s fine, Jay,” she says flatly, clearly not wanting to let him in.

He sighs as she pushes past him into the hall, pinching the bridge of his nose he takes a deep breath. Something was wrong, he knew it. But she wouldn’t put her shields down long enough for him to see the real issue. Something happened that night to make her this way, a shift was apparent in her behavior and all he wanted was a reason why. The last thing he wanted was for her to shut him out completely, but it seemed that was the first thing she was doing.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he turns and makes his way into the main living space of her tiny apartment. He finds her lost in thought again, just staring blankly into space as she stands in front of the sink. The water continued to run as she stood unmoving, the glass in her hand overflowing with water.

Where was she? He thought, brow knitting together as he watched her disappear into her own mind. All he wanted was for her to come back, to be with him again in the present. But he had a feeling there was an unseen gap between them now, her in a completely different place and him standing right in front of her trying to understand where she’s gone.

Come back, baby, he thinks to himself as he continues to watch her from afar. Come back, I’m right where you left me.

[a-chlolix-blog]

Scarabée and Kitty Claws AU

Updated OC list

Dalia Kubdel

Alix and Jalil's mother as well as Alim's wife who has passed away due to a horrible car accident. She died in a car accident when Alix was seven. Like those un her family, she has the "ALI" in her name. She would call Alix "my little Scarabée".

Monica Bisset

One of the girls on Alix's Roller Derby Team. She has a major crush on Alix, but hates Chloé. Ironically, she's a massive Kitty Claws fan.

Albert Corbin, Julien Garnier, & Tristan Boucher

Three bullies that are in Marc and Aurore's class. They're massive fans of Scarabée and Kitty Claws (Albert often tries to flirt with Kitty Claws, much to her dismay). Each of them are akumatized on three separate occasions.

Aurélien Bustier

Caline Bustier's seven year old son. He looks so much like his mother. Chloé absolutely adores him, but wouldn't like her classmates to know that. He doesn't know his father.

Lillian Thorns

A very nice and generous woman that owns a flower shop called "Éclat Épanoui". Alix is often taken to there by Rose or Mylène. Lillian was also good friends with Dalia Kubdel.

Mitchell Clark

An American male model that works with Audrey Bourgeois in New York. He's secretly a fan of super heroes & quite the history buff. He takes a liking to Jalil.

Esmée Rousseau

A teenage girl that's a major fan of Scarabée and Kitty Claws & has major crushes on both of them. This double crush goes away after she's akumatized. She also helps Alya out with the School Blog and the ScaraBlog from time to time. She's great of making and designing superhero cosplay and pins.

Brigiette Alarie

A teenage girl that's a member of Francoise Dupont's drama club. She's a big fan of murder/mystery movies. She's not the biggest fan of Chloé, but a major fan of Adrien.

Elroy Castillon

A teenage boy that Marinette and Max beat in the Gaming Competition (which gets him akumatized). He doesn't like Max and Marinette very much (seeing them as rivals), but has a crush on Chloé.

Henri Bohen

Juleka's biological father. He's known Anarka since she performed with Jagged Stone. Once she got pregnant with Juleka, he was so sure that she'd send Luka to be with Jagged. When she doesn't do that, he leaves.

Valerie Anciel

Marc's loving and supportive mother. She's a well known Dramatist in Paris & she adores the writing Marc would show her & understands when he wants to keep certain things he writes about secret. She also adores his relationship with Nathaniel.

Jolie Gouin

A teenage girl that goes to the same school as Kagami and Ondine. She's seen Alya's Scarablog and has wanted to be a Journalist sense then. She developed a crush on Scarabée and wants to interview her someday.

Lucinda Zeal

A Detective/Private Investigator I introduced in an other AU that I wanna introduce in this one as well. She's actually quite supportive of Scarabée and Kitty Claws doing great work. When Queen Coccinelle and Mao Noire comes into play, she's ready to find out what happened to the younger heroines.

If you all have more ideas for OCs or ideas for the current ones, let me know!

Inspired by: @emdoddles @dcschart @muggle-born-princess @symphonic-scream @justanotherpersonsuniverse @princess-of-the-corner

[kirkwallguy]

Please tell me you have had the insane scene of Bellara and Taash with Isabela at the Lords of Fortune bar. It's so bad. This is the natural consequence of the "we do cultural artifact repatriation" pirate faction and yet it's somehow even more cringeworthy. I felt like I was hallucinating the whole time.

i haven't but i HAVE seen people talking about it. one of the most insane choices in the game. they didn't even need to be plunderers they could literally just be pirates, it's literally part of isabela's backstory that she unknowingly transported slaves when she was smuggling for castillon why not have her focus on targeting slave vessels bc of this. they write themselves into the stealing cultural artifacts corner and then panicked and went "oh umm no but we do it in a nice way :)" . why

[burnthoneydrops]

What Time Has Done (Part XII) Benedict Bridgerton x Original Character Series

Synopsis: The Castillons chose a drama filled night to return to society, part of which was out of their control

Requested: No

Word Count: 2283

Warnings: None, but lmk if i missed any :))

A/N: Ahh! I'm sorry the wait was so long! This semester really kicked my ass! But I'm done in a week and a half so here's to hoping I get more writing time over the summer!!

As we all know, there is nothing this author loves more than a scandal. Tonight’s soiree is sure to have more than its fair share, thanks to the recently widowed Lady Trowbridge. Some may call her celebrations too provocative, and I would caution any young lady from getting too caught up in the sensual nature of her fetes. For one scandalous move between an unwed couple, a wayward touch, or heaven forbid, a kiss, would banish any young lady from society in a trail of ruin. 

Lady Whistledown 

Benedict 

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Mr. Granville opens the front door, a full glass in hand, “come in, come in”. 

“I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this,” Benedict comments as he is led to a room full of models and artists, the light warm and the energy much calmer than most high society gatherings. 

“Simply a gathering of like-minded souls. Here, let me show you what I’ve been working on”. 

“They speak of war abroad as if it will distract from inequities at home,” a man comments from his position behind a canvas. 

“They do not need war to be distracted. Why, this Whistledown’s enough to turn their eyes from the needs of ordinary people,” the woman next to him replies. 

“What do you think?” Mr. Granville questions, grabbing Benedict’s attention away from the pair’s intellectual conversation. 

“It is a far shout from Somerset House, I must say,” Benedict smiles at the work in front of him. 

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Granville replies, laughing. 

“And I must say, I’m truly jealous,” Benedict continues, catching Granville’s eye, “Is this your life?”

“There are advantages to being the second-born. Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun. So, why not have some fun?” Granville gestures Benedict away. 

Emmeline

My mind feels even foggier than it has the past couple of days, much to my dismay, as I had thought that getting back out into the world might open my mind once again past the suffocating walls of our house. Unfortunately, it appears as if I was mistaken. Mama insisted that we are not to waste any more of the season and are therefore to start attending events again. It was just our luck that one of our maids had found the invitation to tonight’s event under our evergrowing mail stack, or we might not have made it at all. Though the crowd feels cramped in the main room for the evening, I cannot help spotting a yellow dress on a girl of similar redheaded nature and I make a beeline for her, leaving Josephine at the entrance. I mutter a quick apology to her before turning my head back to my original target and whisper a quiet thank you to my lucky stars that she is standing alone. 

“Quite the evening, is it not?” I start, tapping her elbow with my gloved hand. Once she realises it is me, she opens the space between her side and her arm, allowing me to link my arm through hers. 

“Emmeline! Goodness, where have you been?” She exclaims a little too loudly for my liking, so I take the opportunity to poke her in the ribs before I continue. 

“Not so loud, will you? I have only just entered, I do not need my presence announced to the entire ton at once,” I sigh, looking around to see if we had captured anyone’s attention. Thankfully, the band is midsong, so no one is any the wiser. 

“Well pardon me if one of my closest friends has just appeared out of nowhere after an extended leave of absence,” Penelope counters. 

“Yes, you must forgive me for that”. 

“Forgiveness might come much easier if I am aware of the reason behind it?” She tries. 

“I am afraid I cannot divulge that information at this moment,” I frown, knowing it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. I want to tell her all my darkest secrets right then and there, as she seems to have a way of making one open up about all their repressed traumas, but I fear hers’ might not be the only open ears and the last thing I need is Lady Whistledown hovering over my family again. 

“Our host looks a bit fussy,” A voice comments from behind the both of us. I turn the both of us to look behind us and cringe at who it happens to be. “Do you think if he goes to bed we all have to leave?” Colin continues. 

“It was lucky the lady produced an heir before the old earl croaked, no?” I respond, having heard whispers around the room of the hostesses’ unfortunate late husband. 

“Miss Castillon,” Colin remarks, as if just having noticed my presence. “How remarkable to see you out and about. By the time that has passed since our last encounter, I thought you had caught some debilitating illness that should cause you to never see the light of day again”. 

“Colin!” Penelope exclaims. 

“No need for dramatics Pen, it’s all right. Wonderful as always to see you Mr. Bridgerton,” I say, half suppressing a smile. 

“Is your father among the company tonight, Miss Castillon?” Colin asks. 

“He is not. He is still recovering so Mama thought it best to leave him be at home,” I reply, hoping the illness is a good enough cover up for the time being. 

“Ah, I see. Is there to be a grand welcoming back for you, or are you to remain here all evening?” Colin questions. 

“I am quite content here in Miss Featherington’s company, thank you very much,” I smile at Pen. 

“Very well, I look forward to possibly hearing about what has kept you so isolated as of late. I have been trying to get in front of Miss Thompson all evening. Surely she is not that interested in Lord Rutledge, can she?” 

“I think what Miss Thompson is interested in is a swift rescue indeed,” Penelope replies, glancing at her cousin across the dance floor. 

“Indeed,” Colin begins the walk over. 

“Oh! Colin, I did not mean-” but it is too late, he is already making his way over to Miss Thompson, leaving Penelope and I to our reserved conversation once again. I catch the disappointed look in her eye and wonder how many times I have been seen making that same face. Though it has come to my attention that the Bridgerton pack seems to be down one usual member. 

“Looking for someone?” Penelope breaks me out of my search, my eyes ceasing to gaze across the dance floor. 

“No! No in particular, just seeing if there is any news I can gather visually while I am here,” I lie, though not very well apparently, as Penelope gives me a raised eyebrow and a coughed out laugh. 

“You are not the greatest liar Miss Castillon,” she replies. I cringe, knowing she is right, but wondering how obvious I came across in my encounter in the street with Benedict. Or my conversation with Colin just mere moments ago. What a horrible friend I am, here with one of my closest friends since my return and all I can think about is myself. I hardly think I have asked her a question since I’ve arrived. 

“Any news that I should be informed of in my absence, Pen?” I ask. 

“Daphne appears to be caught in a love triangle of sorts,” she replies and I gasp lightly. 

“Was she not smitten with the duke mere days ago?” 

“She was, and then Prince Fredrich got in the way”. 

I was sure that despite the Prince, Daphne and Simon were fated to be together, but it seems like my judgement was misplaced. I raise an eyebrow at Pen and she raises hers back, a small, knowing smile spreading its edges across her face. A laugh escapes the both of us and some of the gentlemen are staring at us now, but I cannot be stopped, for it was not like any of them were going to request a dance with me anyway. While a mysterious woman may be of intrigue to them, as far as they are aware, my mysterious disappearance was due to an illness of sorts. That is something no one wishes to touch. 

The couples glide their way across the dance floor, a few sharing heart-filled smiles and glances, and I am reminded of one of the main reasons I love watching society. Love can be a beautiful thing, when it is allowed, and there are many opportunities for it to be made here. The suffocating presence of societal standards may stunt it at times, but when it is truly allowed to grow, it is beautiful. 

“Does Daphne look unwell to you?” Penelope asks as something has caught her attention across the way. Anthony is guiding Daphne toward their family, him grabbing her arm while she looks lost in thought. 

“Worried about something, no doubt. She was only gone for a short while, I cannot imagine what happened to cause such upset”. 

Benedict

Benedict sits behind the same canvas before, and whereas most of the guests have departed, he stays, sketching the same two women. He stares intently at the charcoal in hand, trying to manoeuvre it in just a way to accomplish what he wants, but he never seems to be fully satisfied. He takes the drink from his side table and sips it quickly before putting it back down to refocus himself. The art is not going to draw itself. 

“You have great potential-” Granville starts. 

“It is nothing!” Benedict stops him abruptly, running his hands down his face. 

“For such a staunch critic of others, you certainly lack a clear eye for your own work,” Granville continues, looking down at the frustrated gentleman next to him. 

“It’s the lines,” Benedict jabs the canvas with the charcoal, “they’re not what they are supposed to be”. 

“Oh, take the compliment, Bridgerton. There’s no expectation or judgement here. You are free to be yourself here, if that is what you should like. That’s what works for me at least. And I haven’t been dissatisfied with my lines in…quite some time,” the two share a laugh. 

“Well, I’ve done worse I suppose, really,” he looks around the room, then, having noticed 

the lack of other participants, “I seem to have enjoyed myself a bit too much this evening. I should be on my way”. 

“If you wish,” Granville tilts his head, taking a drag from his cigar. “But you are welcome back anytime, for practice or for conversation. Should you find the need to talk about anything else that may be disrupting your lines”. Granville looks to the young gentleman as he grabs his coat. Benedict sighs, shaking his head. The conversation would drag on for too long if he were to truly divulge everything going on in his mind; at least he thinks it would. “You are allowed to follow your inspiration, Benedict. I’ll see you out”. 

Penelope and Eloise

A tap on Penelope’s window alerts her to the presence of someone down on the street below, and with a glance downward she is greeted by Eloise, waving frantically for her to join her on the cobblestone. Penelope holds the front door closed behind her, looking worriedly at Eloise who holds a notebook and an excited smile. 

“I have a theory,” Eloise states, opening the notebook. 

“Eloise it is quite late-”

“A good theory! About Lady Whistledown. I thought she had to be a servant, but I was wrong, quite wrong. Because who truly has the time and means to be that remarkable? Who would actually be invited to all the parties, able to hear things unnoticed by others?” “Perhaps we can discuss it tomorrow,” Penelope tries again but is ignored. 

“Lady Whistledown is someone free and unencumbered by society. She is a single woman of means, better yet, she might be a widow. I was thinking, what if it were Miss Castillon. Think about it! She disappears for three years, to study literature no less, and upon her resurgence into society, Lady Whistledown emerges- ”

“Eloise, I do not care! People have real, mature problems that have nothing to do with the identity of some silly writer.”

“And you are so mature now?” 

“I am of age. I am out in society, which means that yes, I do have mature problems to worry about, such as marriage”. 

“You should not care about marriage-”

“And what if I do!” Penelope cuts Eloise short. “I cannot expect you to understand, not 

everyone can be a pretty Bridgerton!” Eloise, with tears welling in her eyes, backs away to the front gate. “Eloise, wait! I did not mean-” but she is gone. 

Dearest Reader, 

It seems as if my identity is being called into question once again. How I am amused by the theories of possibility that float about the ton, but I assure you, there have been no correct guesses to date. A rather interesting one is that I may in fact be Miss Emmeline Castillon. A three year departure may have done many things for her, but grant her this power of quill and paper it has not. While it may appear as though her recent exit from society may have been due to a familial illness, it has come to this author’s attention that there might be more shame involved than a potential illness would supply. The Castillon family has found themselves in a great deal of debt, which has forced them into the shadows. How ever will they recover? This author is dying to know. 

-Lady Whistledown

[locitawritingsblog]

Such A Ray of Light We Never Knew

Even through it was already pass for most of the country for Father's Day but I wanna write a mini fic about it. This fic got inspired by one of my favorite childhood. Hope you guys like it.

This fic is continued from Wish You Two Were Here.

After Kaz and Yeager did a quick check-in their ships to make sure they were ready to go as CB-23 already hopped on the fireball "Alright, looks like we're up to go."

"Hello Kaz !"

They saw Kel and Eila coming over the repairs "Kel, Eila, what are you guys doing here ?" Kaz asked.

"We want to go with you guys." Kel spoke.

Which made Kaz worried that history might be repeated "Oh no..." He stared at the kids. "Kids, don't you guys remember what happened last time you two came along with me ?"

Eila responded "We know but we promise we'll listen to you."

Kaz still uncertain about this "Uhh...hold on for seconds."

He walked to Yeager "Hey, Yeager, uh, I know you want to have peace and quiet time but the kids wanna come with us."

Yeager asked "Well, you told me those kids are alone ?" "Yeah, they lost everything, including their homeworld...before mine." Kaz replied then he looked down, remembering his homeworld was destroyed.

Yeager sighed "Alright, they can come with us but we'll make sure they stay close with us." "You got it, I'll tell the kids."

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

Kaz, Yeager, CB-23, Kel, and Eila took a walk around the city. "This place looks so different then back to our home." Eila said the Kel asking "Yeah, how these people can live here with no trees ?"

Kaz put his hands on the kids' shoulders "Well, most people living at the cities are doing some big projects like...making taller buildings to live or making advanced technology."

"That sounds interesting. What kind of advanced technology we can play with ?" Kel said.

Kaz figured out to explain these kids about technology until he noticed a younger kid pulled his mother to go into the building, it has colorful lights from the inside.

"Follow me, kids." Kaz took the kids enter that building while Yeager spoke to CB-23 "Do you think what are they doing there ?" CB beeped as rolling to catch the others up.

Yeager was the last person entered the building, he was surprised there were a lot of machines that any kids could play with.

"What in the Castillon is this place ?"

He noticed Kel and Eila talked to Kaz about this place. As the kids raced to play, Kaz walked to CB "CB, can you keep an eye on them ?" CB beeped and left him and Yeager alone.

"What just happened ?"

"Oh, I showed Kel and Eila what the arcade game is so they could have fun here."

"Okay....I have to say this place is really loud." Yeager commented.

"That's every arcade game room do. If you need some peace, I found massage chairs that you can try." Kaz pointed at two message chairs near the arcade room.

Kaz showed Yeager how to use a massage chair "Alright, this will help as well." Kaz passed a headphone to him then put a credit into the message chair. "You can try for 10 minutes and I'll let you know what do you think about these."

Yeager nodded and put a headphone to have some quiet time with relaxing music "This is nice." Kaz smiled as whispering "I'll be back."

Kaz went back inside the arcade game. He saw Kel and Eila hop on the hovercruises but they were connected by the game machine.

"How is this thing can move ?" Kel groaned.

Kaz chuckled "They are supposed to be that way. Let me show you how." He hopped on a hovercruise where Eila sat.

"You kids got your own each cards, right ?"

Kel and Eila showed Kaz game cards "Yes ! But we don't know how." Eila said.

"First, we put our cards here." Kaz put a card on the machine so it can be scanned. He then told Eila to hold tight as showing them how to play hovercruise game.

The kids were having fun, playing hovercruise game, they raced through the game screen. Kel acrossed the finish line.

"Woo Hoo ! Kel's win !" Kaz cheered.

"This is fun. Can we play this again ?" Eila asked.

"Sure, one more time." Kaz replied then they cheered.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

10 minutes was up, Yeager took off a headphone and stood up from the massage chair. it was pretty relaxing which he hadn't been felt this for a long time.

Then he stared at Kaz taking care of Kel and Eila as they were having some fun. Yeager missed his family, wishing he could spend time with them for a long time but he knew he couldn't.

He took a long breath and walked to them "Looks like you three having fun." "Yeah, this place is really nice !" Kel responded as throwing a basketball into the net.

"Nice shoot, Kel !" Kaz said.

The timeline for basketball game was over. Kaz and Eila only had two points while Kel had 6 points.

"Let's play another game." Eila took Kel's hand as CB following them behind.

Kaz asked "So...how was the massage chair going ?"

"It was really nice. I really enjoyed it." Yeager replied. Kaz smiled "That's great. Glad you like it. We might be here for awhile. Wanna back to have another round of massage chair ?"

"No. I'm good for now." Yeager said.

They watched Kel and Eila playing spinning wheel to get as many tickets as they could get.

"I'm guessing your father was used to take you some kind of arcade game room like here ?"

"Yeah, he did. We were used to have fun a lot but when I'm getting older, he never spend time with me anymore. All we have is having argument." Kaz sighed then looking down.

Yeager was concerned about Kaz's relationship with his father. "I should get some drink since we'll be here for awhile." Yeager was about to say but he knew Kaz need some time alone for few minutes.

Yeager sighed then checked it out with the kids.

Taglist : @queen-daya , @cassie-fanfics , @zaya-mo , @fulltimecatwitch , @kanerallels , @commander-tech , @thebadbatch2022 , @catcucumber-salad

[castillon02]

Jason and Tim have similar competence standards and end up swapping employees sometimes.

---

"Boss, I'm outta the game with this hip---"

"You're outta the beating-up-traffickers game. I got a guy who can get you into the scaring-the-rich game just fine."

"You mean, like...?" A fist into an open palm, quirked eyebrows.

"Nah, verbal intimidation only unless someone steps up to the plate. Mostly you got good eyes and this Wayne kid values having people around who can observe things that aren't spreadsheets."

"Hey, you said I did pretty good at that Excel thing!"

A pointed look.

"Ohhhh. I'm gonna get to learn spreadsheets and threaten people? Oh, man. Thanks, boss!"

"They've got the same insurance, too, so that'll roll over automatically."

---

Meanwhile, on Tim's end of things:

"I noticed that you tend to get impatient with slow results, that you're happy to yell at people for safety violations, and that your plan to remediate the company's incompetence in these areas involves 'firing every single one of them who can't get their head out of their ass.'" Tim smiled.

His employee smiled back. "I mean, that's why you hired me as safety supervisor, right?"

"Of course; your proactive attitude is one of the reasons we chose you. However, I also noticed that a lot of your frustration stems from employees whose work is being impacted by personal issues, often ones stemming from attacks by prominent local criminals."

"Listen, I'm from Minnesota. I know from cold. And I also know that you can't let a little hypothermia from Mr. Freeze screw up your numbers, especially not when those calculations impact lives." Squared shoulders, hands on the hips---yeah, definitely more of a cultural fit with Jason's organization.

Tim nodded and continued his pitch. "And you're competent with a firearm, correct?"

"Hey, I'm not about to go postal just because---"

"No, no, you misunderstand me. You're a skilled employee. I'm just wondering if you might benefit from transferring to a work environment in which you can shoot some of the people who are actually causing these problems."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have a dartboard with Leeds's face on it because he screwed up so many times after that Ivy incident put his kid in the hospital."

"...Okay, I admit that's not my best look."

"The organization I'm recommending you to has a printer next to the firing range; it's sized specifically for target paper."

"Oh."

"It's also an organization that works specifically to keep kids from needing to be in the hospital."

"Oh. You mean---" There was really only one group it could be.

"They need someone with your eye for logistics. Hood's work isn't 'legit,'" Tim made careful air quotes because the dorkiness tended to put people at ease, "but your insurance would roll over to them automatically. And you can rest assured that they take safety very seriously."

[greypetrel]

Raina and Merrill

“a kiss to your lover’s stomach as you travel down their body.”

Hello noony!

Thank you for the prompt! Ok, first time I write something smuttish, let’s see how I go… Be patient, AH-EHM. (Keeping this SFW-ish, but please if you’re a minor don’t click and don’t go on)

Tis the prompt list!

“a kiss to your lover’s stomach as you travel down their body.”

“You- you- you are infuriating!”

And with thus, Merrill pushes her onto the bed. Or well, Raina lets herself fall back, bouncing once on the mattress, with big eyes in surprise. It isn’t so rare to see Merrill angry - adorably so, she always wanted to pepper kisses on her pouty face when she did. Always had even before the elf confessed having feelings for her. But Hawke has never been the recipient of that rage, never been on the other side. She dares say nothing, looking at the other with interest from below, her expression managing to make her frown even more.

“And you’re smirking! It’s not funny!”

No, it isn’t funny. It is absolutely adorable, and beautiful seeing her so riled up, after helping Orsino with fugitive mages, forcing Isabela’s hand not to let Castillon leave on his own legs… After Sundermount and that fateful last meeting with her clan. She has, as a matter of fact, convinced herself that the elf would just wither and float away with her. It got better when Isabela was around, because Bela was better at talking about feelings, but when they were alone… Raina was one for action, for providing, she could predict her needs and meet them, but she lived with the fear that Merrill was just there to comply and say yes, just there because she had nowhere else to go, and that what she needed were words… And she had none that weren’t witty remarks. That ultimately, she would have dragged her down with her. And she would have hated herself for doing this to her. But as it happened most time with the elf, as it happened again and again since they’ve met, she surprised her and stood up against her, after they returned from the Gallows.

She wonders where Isabela is. She promised to stop by that evening. Raina also shooed Garrett away and told him to just go hang out with Fenris, as she didn’t know they finally got back together and were very badly trying to keep it hidden as if their rooms didn’t share one not so sound-proof wall. Oh, Isabela would love to see Merrill riled up like that, blushing and stretching her lips in a thin line, as she approaches her and bends over her bust, both hands propped on both sides of her ribcage.

“I’m serious, venhan. You shouldn’t have spoken to Meredith that way, it sounded…” She shakes her head. “…You challenged her.”

“She can’t touch me. She’s not the Viscount. Aveline-“

“Aveline won’t be able to do anything if she arrests you for hosting two mages… and if it turns out we’re blood ones!” She squats at her ribs, right on the left in the exact point she always left open when slashing. “Stop challenging her so openly!”

Got the message, it’s not the first time they speak about it and have the same discussion. Time to grab the situation in her hands. Or legs, as she moves them up and cross her ankles around Merrill’s bust, pushing so she can twist her and pin her down on the bed. There’s a oomph, but she’s controlling her movement and her weight, putting it mostly on her knees not to crush her completely, hands closed on her wrists and moving them up above her head. The pout is still on Merrill’s face, along with the deep crease between her eyebrows, but her cheeks are gaining colour, her Vallaslin less evident when she’s blushing. On to fix the pout, then.

“I’m sorry, love.” She starts, shifting to bend down and press a kiss on her brow, easying that angry line away. “I’m not dancing on Meredith’s hand like a puppet because she thinks she has some leverage. It’s plenty of time someone stands up to her methods.”

Other kisses, one on each of her eyes, delicate as she can muster. Cheeks, then, nose a small peck on her lips before travelling down to her neck.

“I’ll buy Isabela a ship and send you all away, I won’t let anything happen to you. Ok? Not if I’m alive. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

She keeps one hand to pin both wrists down, as the other travels to skim over her skin, caressing her cheek and delicately untying the knot of her scarf -the cloth is so soft, but she always forgets to ask her girlfriend what exactly it is. And, she’ll most likely forget again, as she slips it away from her neck, tossing it somewhere, and humms in appreciation as she has now more space to travel and the delicious peek of collarbones to nip. Which she does, gaining a small gasp. Working.

“Venhan.”

“Mh?” She asks, not really interested as she follows the tendon in her neck with more kisses, going straight for her ears. “Stop?”

“No, go on. You- ah. You said you would send us all away.”

“Yes?”

A delicate bite right on the tip, it works like magic every time to make Merrill squirm in her grasp. She grins, victory at hand. Oh, she’s terrible at showing verbally that she appreciates the concern -she does!- and even worse in accepting it. But, she can show her in other ways.

“It was like you weren’t counting yourself in. As if -Creators- As if you’re not thinking of coming.”

A pause, Raina licks a long line from her lobe to her tip, with a small whimper as a prize, before huffing and replying.

“Someone has to stay and clean up.”

It’s a joke, one of many, even if with a basic of truth. But Merrill, as most cases when it comes to her, doesn’t buy it for one second, and turns her head. Deliciously flushed, chest heaving, but still frowning. This won’t do.

Raina’s about to say something else, easing her grip on her hand and turning a little more back from her. But, not for the first time since they know each other, Merrill surprise her again.

Merrill snakes her hands away from her grasp, and takes advantage of having unbalanced her some to push up, hug her midsection and flip them both again. It’s quick, Raina has barely the time to register her, and she has the elf straddling her lap, one hand cupping her cheek to keep her face in place as she looks at her in the eyes, very seriously.

“No. Promise me you’ll come to.”

“Merrill it was-“

“NO. I won’t leave you too behind, you can’t ask me this. You’re coming too, this city…” She huffs, shaking her head. “They don’t deserve you setting fire to yourself to keep them warm. Promise me, Raina. Or we’ll stay here together. Bela would agree.”

And at that, at the seriousness, at the fire in her voice and the sentiment behind each word, her weight upon her grounding her in place, here and then and not letting her escape even with her mind… It is always difficult masking and diverting things with humour with Merrill. It is part of the reason they were there, after all. And, having her straddling her like that, pinning her in place and speaking with such decision and control, yelling she cared for her…

“O-ok.”

She complies, tentatively, the feeling of having another one in control weird but thrilling, stopping her tongue and having her heart beat faster in her ribcage.

“I promise.”

“Good.”

And with that, Merrill is satisfied, and seems to realise exactly how were they positioned. She blushes more, considering.

“I’m- I’m sorry, oh dear, I should-“

“No.”

Raina stops her, grabbing one of her hands that she was retracting against her chest and guiding it up, up above her head, crossing her wrist under hers as she did before with her.

“No, please I… I like this.”

She confesses, her turn to blush. And smiles at the other, wiggling her eyebrows to dispel some of the nerves. It works, as Merrill giggles at that and nods, bending down and pressing a long kiss to her lips. She replies, smiling into the kiss and letting her have her way and her fun, hands still crossed above and closing her eyes, losing herself to the feeling.

It is… The one in control usually between them was Bela, always Bela. (Where was she? She was losing all the fun) But even like this, it feels enticing and thrilling, not knowing what to expect enhancing every sensation as she in tow peppered kiss on her face and neck, nibbling at her pulse point the way she loved. Raina’s turn to giggle and sigh and gasps, with nerves as she let go and loses control, for once. But, she trusts Merrill, she trusts Merrill with her heart and all the mess that is inside and she keeps on sweeping under the carpet. She has patched her up more than once, without asking, without flinching. By the time she feels her hands untying the sash of her robes, and caressing her mid section, she is breathing hard. Merrill just giggles more, wiggling a little to bend down and trace the long, jarred scar the Arishok’s sword left with more kisses, featherlight and loving.

She tries to think of something witty to say, something fun. But right now, she has not even sarcasm to her to verbalizes what she’s feeling. So, instead, she lets actions express everything.

[an-ishka]

Daily Check-in: September 05, 2024

I did it !!! I survived the 22h bus trip ! I’m glad i didn’t freaked out abt work and allowed myself to do nothing it was a relief, but so much happened I alredy have too much to tell even if the residency didn’t even start

☕️ achievements

Met Miel the greatest bus partner ever

Read almost an entire book

Already drew 4 pages of strip

Talked with frank in croatian !

Slept 5 différents hours in the night bus

Loved Adele Castillon’s new EP

☕️ what could have been better

The 7€ bagel at Milan’s bus station …. So expensive

Baka not talking to me in Croatian

My fucking back lmao

Please ana stop falling asleep in the bus just before your station omg !!!

☕️ to do

Post drawing and newsletters

Professional calls

Workout

TikTok montage

Write my story and draft BD’s setting downtown

At least a bit of Croatian

Tomorrow : getting my raking Baptism

[tunisian]

the things we carry and leave behind in each other

alfred tennyson, ulysses / @bakwaaas / hannah lock, hands / danny castillones sillada, those sweet and painful memories / chuck palahniuk, invisible monsters / @cerleansky / becca de la rosa and mabel martin, mabel (ep. 28): matryoshka

[kiastirling-fanfic]

Happy Friday! A micro-prompt for you "I trusted you" for Isabela/Anders? (Or different people, if you prefer.). Happy writing!

It wound up more platonic, but here's some Isabela/Anders.

@dadrunkwriting

It wasn’t as though she wanted to leave them behind. She wanted the ocean. She wanted a ship. She wanted Castillon off her back and nothing to do with the Qunari. She wanted her life back.

Leaving them behind was incidental, or it was supposed to be.

Isabela shoved the hastily written note into Sam’s limp hands and ran, the Tome safely tucked in a box as she made for the docks. Staying was stillness, and stillness was death. Not staying could also be death, but it wasn’t guaranteed. If she stayed she would die at the hands of the Qunari rampaging through the city, or some Dark Town fool taking their chance. At this point, Hawke may do the deed herself. She’d looked pissed when they parted.

The docks were quiet compared to the rest of the city by now, but it was bathed in just as much blood as anywhere else; it’d be years before the stone stopped looking so ghastly. But most of the boats were still at their moorings, the attack clearly took them all by surprise. Fools, to have let their guards down with Qunari warriors in their midst. Not even the passably nice Qunari they got in Rivain. These weren’t the bakers or the child minders or the teachers, these were the warriors whose only purpose was to convert or to kill.

Isabela wasn’t about to convert, and she wasn’t in the mood to die, so she made a third option.

She boarded a smaller vessel, not so small that she could easily man it on her own, but she could do it anyway. The start of a new fleet. It was old but well maintained, the sail more patches than anything else. It would float, at least.

“I trusted you.”

Isabela stopped dead, but only for an instant. She didn’t have time to dawdle.

“That’s your mistake,” she called over her shoulder. Ropes here, check for food, keep moving. “I never claimed to be trustworthy, did I?”

Anders exhaled loudly through his nose. “No, you didn’t. But you didn’t say you’d run at the first sign of trouble, either.”

She jolted and threw her head over the side of the ship to look at him on the dock. “The first- Oh, I get it,” Isabela laughed. “You think you’re going to trick me into coming back? And what, give up? Let the Qunari have their stupid book?” She stowed the box with her prize below a sack filled with whatever rations the former owner kept aboard.

“You could.” 

“I won’t. Tell Hawke- I don’t know. Tell her whatever will piss her off the most.”

He barked a cold, humorless laugh. “I’d rather keep my head on my shoulders if it’s all the same.”

“Funny that, so do I. You could always come with.” Isabela was surprised to find it was an honest offer. Kirkwall wasn’t good for Anders. Maybe the sea would be. Give him some of the freedom he always claimed to want but never actually grasped. “It’s not a big boat but there’s room for two.”

Anders was silent. Isabela looked over the edge again, but the deck was empty. Damned idiot mage. 

“Right. Bye.”

[nsilocastillon]

She's had years to learn how to read a person — a deck of cards, the hands of a shaky dicehand, against those with unwavering confidence. A gambler versus a desperate soul, wayward in the walls of a tomb they'll be indebted to. Nsilo supposes then, this woman has no shame in displaying so openly her animosity; she's got too much to lose in herself.

Nsilo thinks it amusing — behind a cat-like gaze, she's laughing at this. Markus is but a companion in these games and if he but decides to get on his knees on some nights beneath her desk as she writes out documents and business agreements. Let him. She's fine with him there, on her terms. Simply, a time-filler on a quieter, duller night.

They're friends and this woman believes them to be so much more.

Castillon should save her this embarrassment. But she finds it far too fun to smile and share a private, but knowing look with De Villiers about what kind of Pandora's box he's just willingly opened; demons and delinquency spills out of its cage here. She should favour the stranger for Nsilo would usually make Markus the mark. Yet, the hand hasn't been dealt that way. He'd have enjoyed it too if he'd been the subject of these women's ire, she guesses.

"Oh, so you've been away then?" she muses in response to the demands — an honesty that's been dropped like a lead weight at her feet. Bold she thinks that she has any ownership of Nsilo's actions. Any kind of desire to cease this game evaporates in a cloud of smoke. Nsilo suddenly doesn't mind fucking with this woman and watching how far it spirals; she will light the fire, and watch it burn. Markus might thank her later, for he falls easily into the flames. They lick at him and he moans as they scald. She glances at him then, a quirk in her lip at his bravado; ever the showman. "He certainly sits." She agrees, like a pet after all.

Nsilo's gaze wavers for a moment and looks past the pair amid whatever lover's quarrel she is stirring. She captures the movements of someone more familiar in the crowd, a hand falling on Markus' shoulder, to lean in. She doesn't pull him back, merely offers some parting words: "Whilst I have quite enjoyed this," Whatever little game they'd started with Nisha, Nsilo doesn't desire to chase it further. It playful: "Try not to make a fool of yourself like she has, will you?" a last survey of the stranger before looking back at her friend. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure. We've had quite the selection come in this week, come by for a taste," Then, she breaks away — winking at the pair with a childish parting wave to chase something of a far more tantalising magic.

@nishaxeleazar

Before -- centuries ago -- the emotions she felt in that moment would have been written all over her face. Her chest would have tightened, hands would have grown clammy, her heart would have beat rapidly against her chest cavity. But those were human emotions and she'd mastered them over the years. Hardening her heart and closing herself to most feelings.

But that didn't mean that Nisha didn't feel a sense of shock and annoyance at the way Markus introduced this woman. "Fiancee." Nisha smiled tightly at the other, her eyes raking over them to see what Markus had chosen for himself. "I suppose it was bound to happen, with me being absent and all." Nisha let out a sigh as she eyed the woman's left hand. She forced the smile to remain on her face after seeing the ring and then she lifted her gaze back up to the woman.

"He's not mentioned you, either. Which means you must not be all that important." Not that Nisha and Markus had really had much time to converse lately. She'd been too busy dealing with a situation with her other fledgling. "But I'm back now and I will be relieving you of that status with him. You can remain in his life, if you so choose, but as nothing more than someone to have a bit of fun with."

She then turned towards Markus, a hand on his cheek -- caressing his skin. "Is that understood, my love?"

@sntsvilliers