❝ They leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it. . . and as they did so, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters materialized in front of them. The Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families.
Harry inhaled the familiar smell and felt his spirits soar. . . .
Benjamin Sisko: tries to keep up on text lingo so he can text his son. Knows all the abbreviations but doesn’t use them. Tries to keep his texts brief and to the point. Uses the emojis 🙌🏾 and ⚾️ a lot.
Kira Nerys: texts nonstop, and is really fast at typing. Known to rage text under the table when upset. Has never made a typo. Makes GOOD use of BOLD capitals for EMPHASIS!!
Julian Bashir: sends pictures of memes (usually old outdated ones too) with captions like “This is so funny!!!” Or “Lololol!!!”. Would rather talk in person than over text, but sends a LOT of texts when bored. Uses the :) smiley excessively.
Jadzia Dax: very few crew members have her number. Likes having text conversations late at night in bed before she falls asleep. Uses perfect grammar and punctuation. Has been known to laugh at the outdated memes Julian sends (but would never tell him).
Miles O'Brien: doesn’t text. he gets regular texts from Julian but ignores them. The only texts he’s ever sent were a reply to Sisko that just said “OK” and a text to his wife that said “love you” from Valentine’s Day two years ago. He does read every text he gets though.
Odo: makes a ton of typos for some reason, so his texts are almost always unintelligible. Doesn’t undersanf wgy no ome csn rwad hid trxts?!???!? Uses lots of question marks but it might be on ?? accident. Never proof reads messages before sending them.
Quark: $$$ !!! $$$ his texts are just mass text advertisements and spam. $$$ !!! $$$ ON SALE NOW!!!! $$$ he’s also master of the dreaded group text.
Garak: uses very awkward/uncomfortable emojis that no one uses, like 🌝. Sometimes only replies with 👀. Sends cryptic texts at 1am.
“I was getting fucking better!” Graves wipes his eye with the back of his hand furiously, refusing to let the tears fall. “I was never going to be fine, not after what happened, but I was getting closer to it and I hoped - I hoped that you’d see it too and that - a-after today - “ The tears roll down his cheeks without his permission and Graves draws in a few ragged breaths, trying to calm himself. “I was ready,” Graves says, voice breaking. “Ready to - to mend this. I don’t want to lose you, Newt.”
amy has night terrors and jake helps her through it
my first fic drabble ever published!!!! tw for panic attacks i guess, gotta love that anxiété…
here. Amy’s heart is pounding, there’s an acute tightness in her chest, and for
a good ten seconds or so she has no idea where she is, but she knows he’s here.
Further proof that she’s the best detective in the NYPD.
mainly because she can hear the direct evidence, his voice, soothing but barely
masquerading his own worry, saying “I’m here” in amongst a panicked string of
“Ames, babe, Ames – Amy,” but
still, she’s claiming that title. Amy Santiago has trained herself to be the
best and she can do anything and everything she wants to, even if sometimes she
forgets the basics, such as how to breathe. She feels the gentle grip of Jake’s
hands on her upper arms and rationality is telling her that that makes sense
because he lives here and this is their bed and he’s her boyfriend. It’s enough
circumstantial evidence to convince herself that she’s not having a heart
attack, she’s not mortally wounded, Jake’s
not mortally wounded.
god. Her mind clouds with a crime scene of crimson blood, and Jake screaming,
and there’s a gun in her hand, and her chest is heaving again. Amy can’t focus
her thoughts on anything else which means even logic is abandoning her - this
is a code red situation, a solid 9 on the Santiago Panic Scale, and -
hey, shhh, babe,” Jake’s voice once again rudely interrupts her spiralling,
but the way he’s gently rubbing her thigh is almost starting to convince her
that it really was just a nightmare. “It was just a nightmare,” he confirms and
manoeuvres to cradle her to his chest, which is okay because she kind of, sort
of wants to be cradled right now. As much as Amy is a strong, independent woman,
she can also admit that Jake possesses special boyfriend superpowers, the
ability of the steady cadence of his heart to coax her back to reality and his grey
t-shirt to absorb her tears before she even realises that she’s crying. His powers
also extend to being a human space heater, and the proximity of his warm body against
hers reminds her of how cold she really is, clad only in a tank top that is
unhelpfully failing to thwart the anxiety-induced chills running down her
spine. All compelling evidence that she’s not actually suffocating in the Florida
heat anymore with a gun in her hand.
focuses her everything on Jake and the art of deep breathing, his whispered
coaching a needed reassurance that he’s really, truly here. He’s attempting to calm her with a
one-handed massage of her back because his other is laced between hers and, for
the most part, it’s succeeding.
Ames. I’m not going anywhere,” Jake says, because there he is with the superpowers
again, inferring from how tightly she’s clutching at his t-shirt that her
stupid nightmare was about him, one that she’s not ready to tell him about.
eventually, Amy’s eyes flutter open and, through her haze of tears, she briefly
glances at the clock which reads 4:12am, a mere 2 hours and 48 minutes before
her first alarm will blare and Jake will groan dramatically into his pillow.
She’ll brew two mugs of Cuban coffee and chastise him to get into the shower before he
makes them both late and things will be normal.
you can go back to sleep,” she trembles into his chest, inhaling the sweet, remedying
scent of his shower gel mixed with their detergent and his inherent Jake-ness.
Jake soothes, reverently stroking her upper arm– if you had told her eight years
ago that she’d ever let Jacob Peralta
shush her she would have personally filed a lawsuit against you for slander,
but here and now, with his bedside lamp illuminating his face that she’ll later
tell him to shave, Amy comfortably returns to the stillness of them laying
breathing synchronises, time slows, and Amy’s still curled into Jake and
practically on top of him when he finally breaks the relative quiet that has
enveloped the bedroom.
detective?” he asks softly, kissing the top of her head.