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‘ who the hell are you ? ‘ suspicious, a sharp tongue delivers the words that leaves a ring in the silence afterwards. arms crossed, cocked eyebrow and nude lips pulled tight make up the mikaelson witch. ‘ if you’re one of those troglodyte’s that keep sneaking in to deface the school-- ‘
@drkcr
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“Don’t MIND him,” Gwen shook her head, watching Harry let himself out of her apartment. His sudden visit was something she hadn’t expected; and even when he’d SWORN he didn’t have anything to do with Oscorp’s hidden experiments, she didn’t quite buy it. She looked back down at the male, a sigh leaving her as she bit down on her lower lip. “You can STAY HERE for as long as you want,” she managed a soft smile, trying at reassuring. Even Peter wasn’t quite CONVINCED, but he was kind enough to let him borrow a couple of clothes. “We ought to change those bandages though, is that okay?”
@drkcr said: ❝ let me help with that. ❞ accepting from here
“i got it.” she says initially, so used to having to do things for herself that uma doesn’t even think to ask for help. a second later she realizes that help might not be so bad, it’s certainly better than suffering alone. “actually, could you?” she asks, holding out the needle and thread for him so he can stitch the wound on her arm closed. her attempts to break through the barrier that morning hadn’t gone well, a spell backfiring and resulting in the injury that isn’t healing like it should. at least not how it should for her. it’s likely due to the fact that it’s a magical wound, and will take longer to heal than normal. uma isn’t thrilled by that thought, and now she has a reminder that will likely scar to remind her that she’s not any closer to getting back on the isle. she’s glum, clearly not happy though she tries to conceal it as best she can from nico. he has enough worries of his own, she doesn’t want to put hers on him as well. he already does enough simply being there and offering the companionship that helps keep her sane and grounded while she’s away from her crew that she misses terribly.
@drkcr liked for a starter
It was a common occurrence that people overlooked. Homelessness. To most people, homelessness didn’t matter to them -- because they weren’t in that situation. They took pity, whispered behind their hands to their partners as they passed, but no one wanted to do anything.
Finn knew he was lucky enough to have a roof over his head, and the ability to work a wide array of jobs. Having grown up a traveller, he didn’t shy from any kind of work. No matter how hard, or how dirty. And he knew the homeless were the same. They just needed a chance.
When the people walking in front of him passed the man, he stopped and kneeled down to the man’s level. “Hey mate, come on. Up yeh get. Come with me.”
"am i supposed to be scared now?"
@drkcr - 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵
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(x)
@drkcr // starter for kaz & wylan
It was only the end of October, and it was already shaping up to be the coldest winter anyone could remember. The wind off the water was brutal, lashing through Ketterdam like it had a personal vendetta against the people. Even the Slat wasn't immune to the cold, as little by little, every chink and bolt hole was being stuffed with rags to keep the drafts out.
It was a damp, bitter cold that seemed to cut straight to the bone. But the upside was that business was booming-- the weather driving the pigeons into the gambling houses in miserable, shivering droves.
Cradling a steaming bowl, his sleeves wrapped around his hands, Wylan made his way up... up... up... To the top floor of the Slat. The rich, salty smell of hutspot wafted ahead of him, filled with potato and smoked sausage, and little slivers of carrot and cabbage.
Kerch comfort food, Nina called it. Just the thing to stick to your ribs and keep you warm.
Wylan knocked on Kaz's office door with his elbow, since his hands were full. "Nina sent me up to make sure you ate, on pain of death. Or worse." He ventured a smile, and held out the bowl, "And I don't want to know what 'worse' would be from a Heartrender."
He looked a bit rumpled, curly hair sticking out at wild angles, like he'd been running his hands through it while he worked. "We could call it a trade? While you eat, I can tell you what I overheard at the Exchange today."
@drkcr said, ❛ indulge . find my muse drinking to cope . ―― nonverbal prompts, currently not accepting.
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, taking breaks only to calculate how many more she must nurse before finally drowning out the INSUFFERABLE accusations. That she recognises him is a shame, would have preferred one night where she’s allowed to merely breathe ―― and not transform any implications of vulnerability into anger and VIOLENCE. There’s a hope still, that he’s not seen her, figure already rising onto her feet with her whisky in her hand and ready to pick herself another spot, further away. Instead he catches her, a godforsaken NUISANCE. “ If you’re here to give me a tongue-lashing about alcoholism and veterans, ” voice is slurring ever so slightly. That’s a good sign. It means she’s a step closer to FORGETTING. “ Then fuck off, Nico. I know what I’m doing. ”
