filing away for future use

shady-swan-jones  asked:

amanda, if this isn't your time i don't know what is. please give us some sheriff/deputy smut. in your hot, detailed writing

this is me, ignoring my responsibilities, in favor of hot desk sex and bants

speculation and spoilers abound, obvs.

“Not much of a honeymoon,” Emma said between kisses, roughly shoving his leather jacket down his arms.

“And what, pray tell, is a honeymoon?” Killian asked, his hand busily undoing the button of her jeans.

She walked him back until his thighs hit the desk, then pushed him to sit on top of whatever files she’d left scattered on its surface; digitizing the town’s criminal records was going slowly, hampered not only by the usual revolving door of monsters and dwarven antics, but also by the fact that having Killian in the station with her put quite the damper on any desire to do anything but fuck him senseless..

Her husband was extremely distracting.

“A honeymoon,” she said, pausing long enough to strip her shirt off and toss it somewhere towards his desk, “is a vacation for newlyweds. A vacation primarily geared towards having lots and lots of sex.”

Killian hummed, and watched with interest as she unclasped her bra and draped it over one of the lamps. He probably already knew what it was, but one night and several shots of rum had led to him confessing that he liked the way she explained things. “Ah, so a bridal tour without all the pesky need to visit those unable to attend the wedding.”

“Screw them, they can send something off the registry. If we had one. I bet mom made us one.”

Keep reading

how to drown in the desert; chapter six: the light

a/n: *drum roll* at last - chapter six! hopefully this chapter was more than worth the wait, and it’s a pretty decent word count length too (over 4,000 words), so i hope you guys enjoy it!

as always you can read this fic here on ao3 or here on ffn

and as always if you ever want to make a graphic/edit/fanart ANYTHING inspired by this fic please let me know and tag me in it!! i’d love to see it <3

anyway, without further ado, here is chapter 6: the light

For a few blissful moments after he woke up, Shiro forgot what had transpired the previous night…and then he remembered. His body froze as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his fingers feeling exceptionally warm, and he realized they were still laced through Allura’s. He panicked, thinking about how to move without waking her when he caught the soft curve of her lips: the princess had fallen asleep with a smile on her face.

His own face heated up when he thought of the softness of her voice when they had said goodnight. My Paladin.

He dragged his free hand down his face, nearly nicking himself with the edge of the wedding band he wore—fake wedding band. Maybe they were faking this marriage a bit too well, or at least he was. God, what if she suspected him? It would be completely unprofessional, and awkward, and… maybe sort of freeing, to have it all out in the open. Even if she didn’t feel the same—and why would she?—at least he wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.

Shiro shook his head, carefully slipping his hand out of hers, even as her fingers remained curled against the snowy sheets of their bed. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching over as her hair fell in her face, carefully tucking it behind her pointed ears. He almost let his fingers linger, when her eyes fluttered open.

“Shiro?” she said, voice thick with sleep.

He flushed, feeling almost guilty—or at least caught in the act. He cleared his throat. “Good morning, princess.”

Keep reading

We’re in Love, Aren’t We?

Fandom: Star Trek AOS.
Pairing: 
Reader X Leonard McCoy.
Prompt:  For @trekken81’s Ed Sheeran Divide song challenge – Hearts Don’t Break Around Here.
Word Count: 1838
Warnings:
very minor injury.
Rating: All ages.
Genre: Fluff.
Summary: Leonard and reader go on a hike and figure out their feelings for one another.
Author’s Note: Beta’d by the lovely @starshiphufflebadger.  This was originally conceived of as a McKirk fic, but as the challenge was for a reader insert, that’s what it became.  I may still write this as McKirk one day, with a different premise.  Enjoy!


We’re in Love, Aren’t We?

Every night I’ll kiss you you’ll say in my ear
Oh we’re in love aren’t we?
Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs baby
I feel safe when you’re holding me near
Love the way that you conquer your fear
You know hearts don’t break around here


You groan at the ache in your thighs and buttocks as you plant one foot in front of the other on what Leonard promises is the last stretch of the hike on the way to the picnic site.  The hiking boots he had insisted you wear for the trip are rubbing you in exactly the wrong way and you can’t wait to just lie down somewhere.  You don’t even care whether it’s on the blanket you’ve brought along or on the bare earth beneath your feet, just as long as you’re horizontal, you’ll be happy.

“Almost there, sugar,” Leonard assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he falls into step with you from where he’d been bringing up the rear just in case you lost your balance on the sheer slope.

The way your muscles are screaming at you from the exertion makes you wonder why you had ever agreed to go hiking during your shore leave in the first place.  You’ve never been one for nature, and the whole idea lacked romance in your opinion, but Leonard had seemed so excited to bring you to one of his favorite places in the world that you just hadn’t been able to resist.  Instead, you’re now filing your current predicament away for use in the future, for any time he suggests anything crazy again and you find yourself being won over by those earnest eyes.

Keep reading

tsukinoyoukai  asked:

Yes, come back to fandom! In case the send you requested fics is still open, here I go: Ok, hum. I liked your eruri scene hence: Levi and Erwin first night (not asking NSFW necessary! :3 cute side is sweettt). Thank you!

The beds provided by the Survey Corps are small and creaky, typically furnished as bunks, and usually empty again within a year. Levi’s spared from sharing his only by virtue of Erwin’s presence and his insistence. The room he’s given is no larger than a broom closet and heavy with the scent and weight of a pervasive musk.

It’s the first space that’s ever been his in a real, palpable way; he hates it with an undercurrent of raw emotion that’s surprising.

For the most part, he avoids it. He sleeps upright and fitful against walls, in chairs, and, once, against Hanji’s shoulder. The door to his small room he leaves shut and firmly locked.

He lasts this ways for months. Kenny didn’t teach him much, but Levi learned from him how to tuck away the most human and vital pieces of himself, the most vulnerable parts, the parts that got tired and suffered the consequences of their weaknesses. He isn’t weak; and whatever exhaustion he feels, he purposefully doesn’t show. 

But it isn’t surprising when Erwin stops him after training and says, “You’re tired.” 

Levi isn’t in the habit of lying so he doesn’t. He isn’t in the habit of making things easy, either, so he also doesn’t agree.

Erwin doesn’t need him to, regardless, to continue. One of his hands taps his chin – it’s a habit of his, that Levi thinks if he ever realized he had, he’d train himself out of. “I imagine in the underground, it was a luxury to have your own space. It must be hard,” he says, the last sentence abrupt. 

“What are you getting at?”

The hand on Erwin’s chin stops its tapping and spreads slowly out. “I have a large room,” says Erwin, “and plenty of space to share.” His cheeks dimple when he smiles. That feels like a tell, so Levi files it away for future use; even as he does so, he isn’t sure why. “And I imagine I’m a less annoying roommate than the recruits.”

He isn’t sure of what to make of that. Or any of this, if he’s being honest. Erwin’s thrown him off since he’s met him. It makes Levi feel vaguely annoyed.

Still, that night, in his creaky bed across the room from Erwin’s, he sleeps better than he has in months; maybe, on a day where he’s feeling honest, he might even say since he ever has before.

anonymous asked:

@ the age thing: I was in my late teens as I watched TW the first time and I was in a horrible bad spot. I liked Derek immadently because of his tragic backstory and the fact that he was still there. Fighting and kicking. It gave me strength. But Scott? I always saw him as this annoying 0815 american teen. Totally boring. I'm just not into these characters who are obessed with girls while the world is burning down around him. We're in S6 and he still has not accepted what he is

Ok, so first off can I mention that I just googled the term “0815″ and I’ve absolutely filed it away to use in the future :D

But back on topic, I always love hearing from people who connected with Derek right away. This character –– his strength and his determination to keep moving forward no matter how many times he’s knocked down –– is so important to me it’s hard to even explain it. So I love hearing that other people have connected with him in that way too <3

As for Scott… I can’t speak for where he is or really what he’s doing in current canon (since I haven’t watched since s4 and only know general arcs and key moments from tumblr posts and what I see in gifsets). But I agree that I found him often bland and frustrating in the early seasons. Occasionally sweet or amusing (remember the grocery shopping moment, guys? Easily my favorite Scott moment in the series. I honestly enjoyed dopey, floppy-haired, naive Scott for the dopey, floppy-haired, naive person he was) but overall someone you just wanted to grab and shake back into reality or roll your eyes at. He was the annoying little brother of the early seasons, someone Derek had to put up with and protect while he obsessed over girls and popularity, and that’s fine if that’s who he was supposed to be, and it would have been interesting to watch Scott grow up and grow out of that, and I think there are elements of that shown throughout the series: like his self-improvement arc at the start of 3A (though, notably, that was in large part done as a way to distract from Allison being gone/win her back) and his attempts to be a good Alpha to Liam in s4 (often quoting his “big brother” Derek, word for word, in his efforts). But the problem is that the show itself never frames Scott that way.

So I always feel like there’s a sort of disconnect between what’s being shown –– Scott as the “little brother” figure, growing up and learning from Derek and slowly accepting what the world really is, and his place in it –– and what the show wants us to see, which is Scott as the hero everyone else more or less pales in comparison to.

Which, I’ve seen some people suggest, might just be down to the framing of the show and that it’s focused on Scott’s mindset and Scott’s point of view (Scott obviously sees himself as the “main character,” the hero, sees his opinions as right (as people generally do) and his priorities the most significant… and I think there’s probably something to that, though the True Alpha issue does rise up because that’s not just Scott thinking he’s the hero, that’s the world essentially assigning him that role. (Unless we take THIS alternate explanation to the meaning of a True Alpha as fact, which I honestly really enjoy and is the only thing that makes it acceptable to me. Check it out, if you haven’t already, and let me know what you think!)

But anyway, I’ve probably rambled on long enough again in this reply so I’ll leave it at that for now.

dannymay day seventeen

A different take on today, but honestly I will jump on any chance to talk about Wesley Weston.

ao3 link here:http://archiveofourown.org/works/10780767/chapters/24326910

prompt: background/real life

Wes sat at the Nasty Burger, observing the crowd. As usual. His eyes flitted over tables, noticing where everyone sat and filing it away for future. He didn’t know when he’d use that information, but someday. Though Wes’ main person of interest was Phantom – sorry, Fenton

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Okay, but in your last chapter when Sherlock took off his neck scarf thing and John was just eyeing him up. It made me get the feels for the day that Sherlock is bold enough to make John sit like on the bed while Sherlock slowly takes off his own clothes. I don't think John would survive it.

Ooooooohhhh, anon!

I love the way you think!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Definitely potentially filing this idea away for future use, hope you do not mind… ;)

Gavin is often viewed as “that fool boy Ramsey keeps around,” a kid that has to be more of a liability than an asset, and yet he’s somehow a well protected member of Ramsey’s inner circle.

Just looking at him, people don’t know how this man got wrapped up with one of the most notorious crews, unless it was some poorly thought out act of rebellion. Gavin looks like he just stepped from one of the mansions in the city, with his styled hair and expensive, well kept clothing. And he doesn’t seem to have the right temperament to be in such a crew.

He’s the kid scared of his own shadow, the one that’s so incapable of protecting himself that the Vagabond tails him like a guard dog every time he leaves. He talks pretty, but other gangs he deals with hear the quiver in his voice, see the way his legs shake beneath him. When a fight breaks out, he’s never in the thick of things, and when he does shoot his gun, you’d have to be extremely unlucky for him to hit you.

Gavin seems to just be in it for the money. For the nice clothes and home and the expensive cars that Ramsey is more than willing to replace when they’re destroyed two days later. But that’s all Gavin ever wants people to see.

The crew are the only ones to see Gavins mask crack and crumble and disappear, or at least the only ones to live past the experience. Behind the bumbling, nervous mask is a young man who’s figured out how to get his way.

Who isn’t gonna want to deal with someone apparently so scared of conflict they’d agree to anything? Or how many people really keep their mouths shut around a fool who probably won’t remember the conversation soon anyway? A kid that’s more likely to kill himself with his own gun or a stunt gone wrong than retaliate against someone who wronged him?

They don’t expect the clever phrasing and suggestions and stories Gavin weaves to get the outcome he wants. They don’t know he files every new piece of information away for future use, or that he knows exactly how to change his act to appeal to a new victim. Gavin strings people along, baits them, makes them dance to his tune, all while making them think they’re in control.

And when that mask is fully removed, it’s not a carefree child out of his element, but a hardened man, a member of the Fake AH Crew. When that mask falls, and Gavin stands still and cold and stoney faced with his eyes flat and uncaring behind his golden sunglasses, you’re fucked. The boy who couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn will put a bullet between your eyes in a swift motion you never see coming.

Gavin is one of the most dangerous of the gang. Cunning and quick, he has everyone wrapped around his little finger. The rest of the crew are just the only ones that know it.

anonymous asked:

no one talks much about beth's prison/farm era crush on daryl. I saw hints of it but my friend doesn't. Beth practically says she was watching Daryl when the barn slaughter was happening and then her talk to carol about the group being weak without Daryl. the cutesy writing of the nickname Daryl gave Judith on her makeshift crib was obv done by Beth. meta this pls

Duuuuuuude. I honestly think that Beth had such a fuckin’ crush on him back then, and it really does get swept under the rug a lot, because like you said, there’s already all that… But then there’s even more as well.

Keep reading

sherlockianliza  asked:

I would love a Bruce/Clark fluffy thing. Maybe a first date? Or a post patrol cuddle?

Thanks to an awesome suggestion, I decided to combine the two. It’s my first time writing this pairing; hope you enjoy!!

It was supposed to be their first date.

Their first actual date that wasn’t just skipping corners and hooking up or saving the world. You know, normal distractions in any new relationship.

They barely made it one course into dinner at one of the top-rated gourmet restaurants in Gotham when Clark froze, seemingly tuning out everything Bruce was saying to him (answering his question, too).

“Clark?”

“Sirens,” Clark murmured, and all right. He was listening to Bruce; he was just listening selectively.

“It’s Gotham,” Bruce said plainly. “There are always sirens.”

Clark did that thing where he looked over the top of his glasses at something in the distance Bruce couldn’t quite see, and he bit back a groan. He already knew what was coming before Clark even opened his mouth.

“Bat signal, too.”

As he dropped a couple of hundred dollar bills on the table, Bruce wondered whether or not he should tell Clark now that the alibi for their disappearance was basically going to boil down to being too horny to make it through dinner.

At least it fit Bruce Wayne’s status quo.

With the two of them working together, Bruce had to begrudgingly admit that his night’s work was far easier and was over quicker.

“You act like you’re the world’s greatest example of a lone wolf, and you’ve had so many protégés I can’t even count them all,” Clark complained when Bruce told him as much.

“Still.” A one-word protest for the sake of protesting.

They were back at Wayne Manor now, suits—both dinner and superhero—long-forgotten, articles of clothing strewn about throughout the room. Adrenaline from the fights had given way to adrenaline of a much better kind, and now they were sleepy, sated, and mostly occupying just one side of the large king bed.

Clark was a cuddler. Interesting, but not entirely unexpected. Bruce filed the information away for future use (and maybe present use). Even more interesting was that Clark held Bruce like he was going to break. For having such a widespread reputation as the Man of Steel, everything about him could be so… gentle. Tame, even. Bruce wondered what the general public would think of things like that: that Superman, their indestructible hero, worried about breaking the Bat while they cuddled at night.

Or worse. What would the general public think if they knew Batman enjoyed cuddling?

“I’m not going to break, you know.” If he sounded too annoyed, it was actually directed more at himself than anything. This was, after all, entirely throwing his reputation out the window, and even if that was just for one person, the part of Bruce that preferred control in all things—up to and including anyone’s perception of him—was loudly protesting.

“Oh, I think we’ve already proven that.” Clark’s reply was genial, genuine, and entirely too innocent-sounding given exactly how they’d tested it so thoroughly.

Bruce made a vague noise of assent, closing his eyes to try and mentally run through a very effective meditation he’d learned in Japan, one that was relatively successful at helping him sleep at night.

“Should I… do you want me to stay?” Clark asked, interrupting before Bruce had really gotten started. Sometimes he forgot how much younger than him Clark was.

“I think you have to.” He let the barest hint of amusement color his tone.

“And why is that?”

“We have to go to breakfast in the morning,” Bruce replied matter-of-factly.

Clark shifted a little, wrapping his arm more firmly around Bruce. “We ‘have to,’ do we?”

“Bruce Wayne disappeared from a very public dinner with Clark Kent. Batman and Superman no doubt made headlines—don’t think I didn’t catch you writing some quick copy on your phone. We need to make people think they know what we were doing last night.”

There was a brief pause. “Well, in their defense, they wouldn’t exactly be wrong.”

Bruce chuckled. For once, that would actually be true; the idea appealed to him more than it should have. “So, breakfast, then?”

“It’s a date.”

He slept soundly after that.

Castle Fanfic: Teacher's Pet 1/1

I meant to have this ready last week for #CastleFanficMonday, but that didn’t happen. Instead I’m posting it bright and early today for everyone to (hopefully) enjoy!

Prompt: AU. Richard Castle is teenage Kate Beckett’s hot, funny English teacher. (Do what you want with this. Can be a teacher/student relationship, smut, whatever floats your boat) (This was brought on by the fact, Nathan used to be a teacher). From castlefanficprompts.

Teacher’s Pet

Category: Pre-Series, Meeting AU

Rating: T


As soon as she walks into the room for fourth period, she knows something’s up. The atmosphere is different, charged with an energy that, when it comes to a classroom, can only mean something is about to happen.

Either they’re watching a movie, or they have a substitute teacher. Maybe even both.

Judging by the overly tidy, empty desk in the corner and the lack of a TV in the center of the room, it’s the latter.

Thank god. That means Grouchy Old Mrs. Macintosh is out for the day. It might mean the end of the world is near – the woman has been teaching at Stuy practically since it opened, missing only twelve days in her entire career – but Kate Beckett will take it.

If Macky’s not here, then the carefully guarded,for-her-eyes-only midterm torture is postponed for at least another day, if not longer. Which is good, because Kate is in no way prepared and her parents will kill her for going to that party over the weekend if she bombs this test.

The worst part is she loves English. She just hates the old bat she’d drawn the short straw and ended up stuck with this semester. There are so many other great teachers, fun and eager to talk about literature beyond thesame senior English curriculum that’s been taught for a gazillion years, andshe ends up with Macintosh. The most by-the-book teacher Stuy has ever seen.

Honors or not, it’s boring as shit. She wants to talk aboutthe classics and the contemporaries from any genre, American litpost-Depression, not just from Macky’s heyday. Hell, she just wants the material to be fun.

A sub is a welcome reprieve.

“So what do we think? Did Satan call her back to give her new orders?”

As funny as the question might be, Kate ignores it. After what happened on Friday night, talking to Brent Edwards isn’t on her list of things to do today, maybe not ever again. But in a way, it actually helps that he wants to pretend nothing happened, that he hadn’t been cozying up to her for the last six weeks only to suck face with her (former) best friend when Kate left the room for ten minutes.

Whatever. Brent’s an asshole and Maddie deserves him. They deserve each other.

She leans back, grabbing her novel out of her bag to show Brent how easily she can ignore him. Propping her feet on basket underneath the desk in front of her, the heavy heels of her boots make a muted clang to emphasize her point.

Brent continues anyway, resting his bony chin on her shoulder the same way he has for the last six weeks. Only this time instead of it being cute, instead of feeling flattered, Kate has to bury the urge to shrug him off. Or worse, bump him hard enough to make his teeth crack together.

“Do you think we’ll still have the test today? Cause I didn’t study at all this weekend.”

Gritting her own teeth, Kate drops her head to read. She didn’t study either; Saturday was spent hungover and heartbroken, and Sunday was dedicated to purging her life of the terrible people she’s spent her time with for the last four years. That’s not something she’s going to tell him, though.

“Be-ecks, talk to me. I thought we had fun at the party.”

Her lips twist into a mocking smile. “Oh loads. Loads. And then you and Maddie had even more fun at the after party.”

“She said you were okay with it.”

Of course she did. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Well I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.” She turns the page on the novel, the gesture definitive and hopefully symbolic. Either way, Brent ultimately ignores it.

“Come on, Kate. I thought we were buddies.”

Yeah, she hadn’t written that last short response paper for him because she wanted to be buddies. She’d done it because she’s an idiot.

“Yeah, well, we’re not. Now get off of me.”

She’s just shoved him off amidst his protests when the vice principal steps into the classroom calling for silence.

Her eyes cut past the administrator, however, settling on the man trailing behind him. She knows that man. That man’s face is on the back of the book she’s holding in her hands right now.

Ho-ly shit, what is Richard Castle doing in her English class?

Keep reading

Olicity: Burnout

arrowiefan said: Hi dear! I love it so much when you wrote about Ava and Tom Tom aka Tommy. Can you write something about Oliver’s taking care of them but it turns out they take care of their Daddy because Oliver is down with flu and fever. Felicity is away on business trip and they keep calling her asking how to treat their Daddy. When Felicity comes back, she finds Ava and Tom Tom curl with their Daddy.

Anonymous said: can you write a fic where Oliver is sick and has a headache so Felicity gives him a massage? tysm! I love your writing ^^

The sound was blaring from across the living room. Well, it wasn’t too loud, he supposed, but it was definitely too loud for him to stand. The television was his most hated sound of all. He’d gotten so used to living without it, and when he’d returned from the island he’d only ever used the television for news. Felicity tried to get him involved - tried to tempt him into Netflix marathons and to catch him up on what she insisted were the most important parts of the digital world, but he’d never seen it that way.

Television, for Oliver, was Felicity sprawled around his chest, tapping her fingers absently against his side. It was a few hours downtime before they fell asleep where she whispered facts to keep him in the loop about the plot and told him her favourite parts which he’d file away for future use. Television was the mindless children’s shows that his children adored, that they sang along to and worshipped. They fell in love with these fictional creations the same way that Felicity did, and he couldn’t fault television capturing their attention when they are actually learning from it.

Well, he could try.

Keep reading

Sweetbitter

Happy National Coffee Day, everyone! Have a fic!

Killian Jones and his relationship with coffee throughout the years

[AO3]

He’s only been a pirate for a few weeks when he takes his first sip of coffee.

It’s a bitter drink, dark and hot, and its grinds are left behind on his teeth when he drinks. And yet, he likes it. Or rather, he likes what it signifies.

Coffee, Killian has learned, is a delicacy, something he never would have had the chance to taste in his youth. The merchants in this land sing its praises, the dark liquid bringing in swaths of gold from the upper classes. The King, Killian has found out, also is fond of the drink, if the large bags of its beans found in the merchant ships he’s pillaged mean anything.

It does little to quench Killian’s thirst for vengeance, but it pleases him slightly to takes away the King’s treats. It’s a small act of defiance on his ever-growing list of treasons.

Killian drinks all the coffee he can.

Keep reading

AH Origins: Dan the Man

Anonymous asked: does Dan fit in the the AH Origins world?

Dan comes to visit a few months down the line. The crew all like Gavin, but no one really respects him. He’s fleet-footed, he’s quick-minded, but he is still Gavin.

Gavin has them all act like they’re work friends. That Gavin works in IT and they’re a company. Ryan cites business coming up and isn’t seen for the next two weeks. No one would make him stay.

(Geoff laughs at the idea of Gavin as an IT guy until he mysteriously can’t log on to any of his computers. He finds an apology restores it all mysteriously. He files that talent away for future use)

So Dan comes and he’s all muscle and charm. He tells war stories, and English stories, and stories without the Gavinisms they come to expect from this sort of tale. They’re all a little impressed. An army guy and a fun person. Gavin accepts that he is liked quicker than Gavin was; he seemed to expect it.

One night, Dan’s last night, Gavin goes to collect take out.

‘I’ve got to ask,’ Geoff says, his third beer giving him that free-tongued buzz he likes, ‘what is a guy like you doing with a guy like Gavin?’

‘Gav is the best,’ Dan says simply, as he has said through his entire visit.

‘Gavin is okay—’ Michael starts.

‘No, you don’t know him like I do. Gav is the best. My best friend. The reason I am where I am. You must know about his past, right? If you employed him.’

‘Oh yeah. Full background check on all my boys,’ Geoff says. No one can tell if that’s true.

‘Well, the break-in… he wasn’t even there for that. We would both do it… it was just something fun. Nothing malicious. We didn’t ever take anything, we were just bored. But Gav had coursework, and I went rogue. I went to his… didn’t know I was seen. They should have arrested me.’

‘They blamed Gavin?’

‘Gavin blamed himself. I was only two months from enrolling. I couldn’t with a record… Gav as all set to go to college. Maybe uni. He’s the smart one. He’s loyal. He’s good to have on your side.’

And the Crew is stunned. They forget, sometimes, that Gavin had a life in Britain that he wanted to escape. He had opportunities taken from him.

Except no, not taken; sacrificed.

When Dan goes, it’s just them again.

They see Gavin differently. They start to respect him.

And Gavin knows, deep down, that Dan must have told them. Just as he knows that Dan would have known he was lying about how he knew this ragtag group of misfits.

But he plays ignorant, plays schtum.

Above all, Gavin is good at playing the fool.  

3

I was getting ready to work on some more scenes for the next update and the Smith’s cat wouldn’t stop chasing Ripp. She did it about 5 times in a row, I believe. Poor guy.

Of course, I filed away these poses/expressions in the back of my mind for future use. Haha!

I WAS BORED AND MY SHOULDER HURT OK

Darcy had had quite a few jobs in her short working life. She’d done waitressing, stacked shelves, answered phones, you name it. Those had come and gone, but her fall-back during the summer was working in her aunt’s health spa. It had been her first job ever to work reception there but, over the years, she’d picked up a whole bunch of stuff. Her Aunt Meryl was heavily into massage therapy; ranging from sports massage and acupressure to more esoteric concepts like Reiki. Darcy wasn’t sure if she believed in that but it all culminated in one thing: Darcy Lewis gave kick-ass back rubs.

 

Her therapeutic talents were a pretty well-kept secret. Few outside of her family knew and she was fine with that. It wasn’t her job, nor had she any intention to make it her job. But it did come in handy when Jane got too stressy or Erik had some kind of meltdown. Darcy liked being able to push a few ‘buttons’, as it were, to make her friends relax, especially since it helped Selvig retain the desire to wear pants.

 

Keep reading