Hey nerds, I’m sorry I’ve been out lately—I’ve genuinely been so fucking tired.
I’m gonna make a multi to throw my ocs on bc my bae got me wanting to write them, and then I’ll be around here in a couple days, probably after dnd.

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@anurbanlcgend
Hey nerds, I’m sorry I’ve been out lately—I’ve genuinely been so fucking tired.
I’m gonna make a multi to throw my ocs on bc my bae got me wanting to write them, and then I’ll be around here in a couple days, probably after dnd.
Sorry I dipped out my brain just kind of ALSHDKDJSN blue screened me
Sorry nerds, my ovaries decided that it was time to fist fight my testosterone in the pits. The pits apparently being my uterus. I am not a willing spectator and I am not having a good time right now lmao
jesus fuck i underestimated how hot this laptop would get so soon. i have more drafts to post but iiim gonna do that later bc yikes i am melting. much love, nerds, back soon. im gonna nap, and then i’ll also reply to my ims then.
( open starter | dea agent. )
— The heart monitor steadily beeping away was the only sound in the room. The nurse had finished changing the dressing on the stab wound that temporarily caused her left lung to collapse, but they had fixed it by inserting a needle in between her ribs to remove the excess air. The hospital was very much aware of the special agent's prior brush with death — having taken it into consideration while operating briefly on her to remove the added pressure from her chest. It wasn't too uncommon for law enforcement to have brushes with death – even when most went without firing their gun. For her it had been years, not since '15 or '16 – she wasn't keeping tabs though.
The squeaking wheel on the nurse's cart leaving the room is what woke her up from the anesthesia induced sleep. She never struggled with waking up or being sick after, fully aware that the latter happened with a good amount of people – being nauseated after waking from anesthesia. There was a dull ache in two new spots on her chest, Mary was terrified for a moment because it was coming from the left where her heart was. The beeping on the heart monitor picked up a bit which caused her to close her eyes and take as many deep breaths as necessary to calm down her heart. "Second I've almost walked out of this body and onto another plane of existence." Pressing the button on the side of the bed to raise up the back a little more, she then used the separate one to call the nurse while looking around the dimly lit room for a moment.
The nurse appeared five minutes later, with the same squeaky cart. "Well look who's awake – anything I can get for you Special Agent Savarese?"
Mary watched the nurse for a moment, "Tea with honey if it's possible — or warm water with ice chips." Typically, her voice was gravely but it was almost hoarse right now. The nurse nodded and left the room briefly to at least get the water with the ice chips. The tea was going to have to wait until it was time for breakfast at the very least.
"No nausea or anything?"
"Nah, I mean it's a little achy where I was stabbed … and then also between the third and fourth rib as well. Nothing a couple of Tylenol can't fix." Mary paused. "Actually, may I have two Tylenol and an ice pack? For the swelling obviously. Not my first rodeo."
The nurse dug around in her little medicine cabinet for the Tylenol to give two to Mary. "Hopefully you can go many more years without needing to stay overnight. I'll be back in a moment with the ice pack," With that – once again – the nurse and her squeaking wheel cart left the room to return to the nurse's station.
Mary pinched the bridge of her nose as the cart squeaked it's way down the hallway. "... … So glad I didn't ask how I ended up here." Words uttered under her breath just as the nurse ( again ) returned ( minus the squeaky cart ! ) but with the ice pack.
The nurse helped Mary by lifting up the dressing gown so she could place the ice pack where it needed to be. "By the way, you have a visitor – if you're up for it. They've been sitting in the floor's little waiting room across from the station for the last hour…"
Mary furrowed her eyebrows while trying to figure out who had come to see her. "... Yeah, all right." She eased herself up into a better position as the nurse went to get whomever her guest was.
It’s been several years since his first run in with Detective Mary Savarese, since he saved her from a cartel op gone wrong. The world had changed twice over since then. So had he, radically so, as he limped into the room; you couldn’t see it, but under his suit he wore a leg brace, and beyond that he used a cane to walk, carrying a paper tray with a couple cups of coffee in his other hand.
“Hello, Detective.”
A slight smirk settled on his features, drawn crookedly towards the right side of his face, and his brows quirked up in an old gesture that looked no different than it had the last time he’d seen her. He crossed the room so he could sit the tray down on the table, taking one cup out of it and sitting it over closer to her before rolling the little lap table over her bed as well, just for good measure.
“Seems like you could probably use some coffee,” he said, taking his own from the little tray. Another limping step, then two, and he sank down into the chair nearby with an uncomfortable amount of stiffness to his movements.
He glanced up as the nurse was shuffling out, closing the door behind her, green eyes just as sharp and stormy as they always had been, then looked back over at her.
“How’re you feeling?”
summonshadcw:
𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃. That much Aleksander knew as the noises of Ketterdam’s patrons and civilians bubbled up around him. He needed to get back to Ravka, even if Aleksander was sure the Tsar had heard of his… performance on the Fold. The surrounding nations’ dignitaries that Ivan had put down when they wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t understand.
Scars cut across his face, faded a bit from the work of a Healer, yes, but not enough to erase what the claws of the volcra had done in their frenzy. He might have escaped alive, but–
It was not without a price.
Hearing another call the name he’d taken, call out his name as General, he paused. Froze where he was. Already, the shadows thickened, a subconscious reaction on the Darkling’s part to the potential threat that the voice held.
But he also, equally, recognized that voice. ❝ Reese. ❞ His tone was calm, almost deadly so. There existed a momentary second of hoarseness in his words, before Aleksander cleared his throat as he turned more fully to face the Heartrender.
❝ Here I thought you were dead. ❞ He hadn’t seen the spy since he’d (presumably) defected from the Second Army. Aleksander had considered the fact that he’d run, that he’d fled. There were too many whispers in his ears that Reese was not to be trusted. Ivan, especially, didn’t seem to like the guy.
Maybe the Darkling should have listened to the man.
❝ And did you really expect I wouldn’t? Or were you hoping the volcra would consume me? ❞
Stalking towards the other man, Aleksander’s gaze narrowed. ❝ What are you doing here? ❞
Glancing past Kirigan, Reese eyed the shifting shadows warily, though he never turned his head. As the man turned to face him, he tossed the nearly empty bottle of booze he’d been carrying with him to the side, bringing his hands to fold one over top the other. It was an unmistakable gesture; he was freeing his hands up and bringing them together, in case he needed them, needed to defend himself.
“Why wouldn’t I hope for it? After what you did to Novokribirsk?”
Reese didn’t move more than a step back as he came closer, but his posture straightened, looking more like the soldier he was as his spine stiffened and his shoulders lifted. But he stayed there once he was back a step; he’d always been a little reckless, had plenty of near death experiences because of throwing himself into danger without so much as a second thought to the consequences for himself—not if something important or someone’s life was on the line.
That didn’t mean he didn’t have a healthy amount of fear for the man who could well enough split him in half if he wanted to, though. He knew better than that. Knew if this turned violent, he probably had a hair’s breadth of a chance to stop a cascade of shadows before they could get to him. A very, very small hair, at that.
“As for me?” he added with the shrug of his shoulder, head tilting to the side slightly. “I’m just passing through,” that was a lie, granted; he wasn’t about to admit that he was holed up somewhere in the city or sticking around for a while, didn’t need to make himself easier to find, for Aleksander or anyone else. He also meant to keep him talking, rather than acting, if he could. John had been good at that, good at stalling, though he had no particular end goal to where he was stalling to this time. “Surprised you haven't tried to go around it, though.”
Considering going through it didn't go so well last time, by the looks of you, he thought, but didn't say. Not that reckless.
Lurking, working on drafts, will answer my ims later, may not be around much until it cools off tho. Fucking hot as hell here, 97 f (36 c??) and I’m dying. Hoping a storm comes and cools it tf off tho.
Lov u nerds
Sorry nerds, I was very very sick yesterday, and I’ve spent yesterday and today just kind of laying around. I will be back tomorrow or the next day.
thats all i can do i am in a shitton of pain rn, im gonna go lay down, ill be around on mobile
@griim: "Why do you have a gun?" (A meme to get things some what started xD)
Gunmetal clicked in his hands as he popped the magazine out of place, pulling it free and checking the bullets in it—full, fifteen for fifteen. He slid it back into the gun, and then holstered it so he could pull out a second gun.
“Because in a few seconds, three guys are going to come through that door, and they’re not going to be very happy to see us,” he said, flipping the gun in his hand so he held it by the barrel, once he was satisfied it, too, was loaded. He held it out to her. “I trust you remember how to use this.”
Outside, rapidly approaching footsteps could be heard, slowing as they surrounded the door. There was distant mumbling from the other side as they tried to keep quiet, and Reese took his first gun out when his hands were free. Flipped the safety off, cocked it, gave her a nod as he tucked up to one side of the door.
When the door was locked in, he reached out, pushing the man’s gun offline—away from himself, and away from Gemma’s direction—before lowering his gun and blowing the man’s knee out. The guy screamed, releasing the gun as he collapsed, clutching his leg, as blood pooled around him, and John drew back to his spot beside the door. He looked up to meet her eyes, brows quirking slightly, giving her a smirk that all but said your turn.
@summonshadcw || post season 1 starter
The back alleys of Ketterdam were a long way from the ornate halls of the Little Palace, but… Reese couldn’t say he missed it, not knowing who was one of Baghra’s spies and who genuinely aligned themselves with the Darkling. He still spent his days looking over his shoulders, but with everything that had transpired, he almost felt free.
Almost; he didn’t know if they’d come looking for him with the change in leadership, or who was going to step up to Kirigan’s place, so he hid himself best he could, draped in dull blues and deep charcoals and and a ragged brown cloak, so far from the heartrender’s red kefta he almost didn’t look like the same man anymore. [ The scruff lining his previously clean shaven jawline didn’t help that. ]
Dusk was falling, but there was enough slanted pools of light pouring from the buildings to see in the alleyway, if only just. Enough for him to catch a glimpse of a face under a hood, enough to stop the old heartrender and make him turn on his heel, looking back.
His survival instincts told him to run, even before he knew if he’d seen right, that he had half a chance to get around a corner and disappear before things could go sideways. But he was stopping, already, peering back the way he came at the dark figures retreating back.
No; not retreating. Departing.
“Kirigan,” he said, loud enough to get his attention, and now that Reese was stopped, the exhaustion was more evident in his face, in the way his military posture had relaxed at the shoulders, and the dark circles beginning to underline those storm green eyes of his. “I see you survived the Fold.”
@anurbanlcgend liked for a starter
“I need you to kill someone.”
Neutral, impassive; as carefully controlled as a finely tuned automaton, his face betrayed none of the sinking feeling he felt in his stomach. By now he’d learned to smother the feeling like smothering out a heart with the curl of the fingers, and green eyes only watched her with the indifference of someone who’d killed more than his fair share.
“You got a name?” He asked. That was all he needed, maybe not that much; a time and a location would serve the same purpose, or any number of other identifiers.
Okay—I took some nausea meds last night that knocked me out most of the day but I… think I’m awake. Let me go do my testosterone injection and then I’ll be around.
Anyway I’ve been like, hyperfixating on John’s heartrender / grishaverse so if you have one I’ll probably come like, proposition you for that if I can pull my head together.
I need to write that out properly so I don’t have to re explain it every time I mention it but lmao am I gonna do things the easy way? No
I want to write but holy mother of fuck my head feels like it cracked in half and I’m dying
Maybe later tonight or something if this eases off.
…
[ headcanon. ] John jokes about it to Finch, but when he said he had a yoga class, he actually wasn’t kidding. It's good for flexibility and shit when your life revolves around combat of some kind or another, and he started it shortly after recovering from being shot by the CIA.