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hyunfilms · 11 months ago

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blue side of the sky (lmh) | 16.5 [cloudy days] uncle adrian

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—16.5 [CLOUDY DAYS] uncle adrian's thoughts

—WORD COUNT: 1.1k

—ON ROTATION: gravity - sara bareilles

Uncle Adrian remembers when you first took your training wheels off of your bike, watching you effortlessly drive it down the hill without falling off.

Uncle Adrian remembers when you lost your favorite bunny toy.

Uncle Adrian remembers when you first got your high school acceptance letter, your college acceptance letter.

Uncle Adrian remembers when you fell in love, when you experienced your first heartbreak.

He remembers almost every little detail, every little memory. Except two:

Your mom's passing, and the night of the accident.

And it's because he doesn't want to.

He purposely tries to keep those memories blurred even though they're the two core memories he remembers the most.

Losing his sister was painful and he feels that until this day. The pain feels fresh, like it just happened yesterday, like he's living in a never-ending loop. But god, when he received that call on the night of the accident, he couldn't even tell you what he felt. There are no words to describe the fear, the anxiety, the pain, that surged through his veins all at once. You had become a daughter to him, his own— he couldn't even imagine what he would do if he had lost you completely.

He remembers when he got the call, when he raced to the hospital and dropped everything to be there as quickly as possible. He hates remembering the anxiety, he hates remembering the what if's running through his head— especially the 'what if I was too late.' He remembers running into the hospital, frantically looking for you or any sign of you, any indication that would at least reassure him that you are alive and okay.

When he entered the room that night, he felt like he was sinking to the very bottom of the ocean. No matter what he did, he felt like he couldn't get to the surface. He felt like he was running out of time, running out of air, even though he couldn't get himself up and out of the void. He cried and he cried because giving up wasn't an option, even he wasn't sure what he could, what avenues he could take.

Especially towards the end.

Your friends were constantly visiting, and he enjoyed having their company. It made him feel a little less lonely; even though the hallways were constantly busy with staff running around, echoes of the machines in the background, the TV humming in the far corner. Even watching life go by outside the window made Uncle Adrian feel a little less lonely. He did appreciate the effort your friends put in, especially Jisung. He was constantly swapping out your flowers with new ones, always saying a prayer by your bedside. Monitoring you at all times, switching with him so he could get proper rest at home. And of course, he'd wonder about Minho. Eventually he found out the reason behind the fight that left you in this predicament. He couldn't say he wasn't disappointed because he was— as with anyone, he wished things could've gone differently. But, he didn't understand why Minho distanced himself throughout all of this.

Maybe he felt like he was to blame?

Maybe he felt too ashamed about how things turned out?

Uncle Adrian wishes he knew because he would reassure Minho that none of this was his fault. If you had woken up and remembered everything, the first person you'd ask for would be Minho. The first person you wanted to make things right with would be Minho. Maybe then, he wouldn't have let things slip through his fingers the way it did. Maybe he wouldn't have distanced himself so much as a way to 'fix' things.

He remembers when the doctor gave him that talk, subtly hinting at the fact that he needed to reconsider his options, beating around the bush about your current status. He paced around the room for so long, it felt like the days would've brushed on by until he finally decided that he didn't want you to suffer anymore. Didn't want you to be in pain. He loved you so dearly that he was always going to put you first before anyone else.

He remembers the broken sobs from your friends when the news finally broke out. He finally saw Minho in the hallway, loudly crying while he crouched to the floor; head dug deep in his hands. He remembers Jisung never leaving your side, begging for you to wake up and come back. That you couldn't leave him behind, you couldn't leave him and Minho behind.

Then, he remembers when you woke up— and that's something he'll remember clearly. The fear in your eyes was so evident, he wasn't sure how to respond. You didn't remember any of your friends, you didn't remember your mom passing. So many pieces of the puzzle were missing for you and you closed yourself off in response to the fear, the confusion.

It took a long time to gain your trust again, even though you didn't intentionally mean to shut Uncle Adrian out.

You felt like you were living life for the very first time, everything felt so brand new and very incredibly scary. This felt scary, even for him.

He remembers how much he stressed over making sure you were okay. He remembers watching your every move like a hawk. He remembers taking note of any slight change in your body language, appetite, tone; anything. It was a hard duty to fulfill, but he did it all while keeping up with the demands of his company.

But even through the rough days, he remembers the good, too. Like when your tone and body language became happier, healthier. Like when you laughed more, smiled more. Like when you brought yourself around your friends more. Like when you took that first leap getting back into the things you loved.

Like the sun peeking out from underneath the clouds, in between periods of rain.

Now, he sees you crying because it's like you're living your first heartbreak all over again. He sees you crying because life seems to be unfriendly to you in certain ways. He sees you crying and it feels like everything is back to square one. He sees you crying and wishes there was more he can do to take away any other pain from you.

He sees you crying and he remembers why he hates to remember in the first place.

But, he'll take this as yet another rainy day— where the sun is waiting to come out and shine again. Because although it's something he hates to remember, it serves as a reminder that you are a star shining in the darkness;

The sun shining brightly through the clouds.

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#lee know series #lee know fanfic #lee know fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids series #hyunfilms: blue side of the sky

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areyougonnabe · 2 years ago

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ANYTHING 4 U @simplyirenic

drumroll please.............. introducing:

EMIL G. RACOVIȚĂ

(or racovitza)

you may already know this romanian scientist as the subject of this popular and famous photo, the first-ever photograph taken underwater, with an exposure time of 30 minutes:

it was taken in 1899 at the oceanographic laboratory in banyuls-sur-mer, france, where racovitza was working at the time in his capacity as a pioneering marine biologist.

however, a mere year prior, racovitza had been suffering through a harsh antarctic winter as a member of the scientific staff on board the belgica, the ice-locked ship of the belgian antarctic expedition.

(for more on this expedition i am beseeching you to read MADHOUSE AT THE END OF THE EARTH which you can find at your library probably or on various illicit webbed sites as well as bookstores!!!)

but the basic summary is, raco (as he was known) was one of the first men hired onto the expedition by leader adrien de gerlache, who was essentially a trust fund kid with a lifelong obsession with ships, sailing, and exploration. which was kind of unfortunate for someone from belgium, a country with little coastline to speak of and a navy that was mainly for show. this was the late 19th century and most belgians were hella amped re doing atrocities in the congo but no, not good old adrien. instead his heart was fixed on making belgium a name to be reckoned with in the world of polar exploration. cue laugh track

anyway raco came along for the ride, he was also from a rich family so it helped that he offered to serve without pay. also look at him. you would want him on your ship. you would want him, like, in general. i certainly do. he's like if the man on the pringles can exuded unbearable erotic energy.

raco's official duties on the expedition included collecting and analyzing zoological and botanic samples from the sea, ice, and land; conducting meteorological readings; documenting the wildlife and landscape; and all sorts of other vital scientific tasks. and being cute.

however his most important job on the expedition by far was probably that of resident cartoonist:

Another beloved monotony-breaking ritual was the presentation of Racovitza’s daily cartoon. In addition to his skill at anatomical drawing, the zoologist was a scathing caricaturist with an eastern European fondness for the absurd and a scatological streak. Though bawdy and puerile, Racovitza’s pencil sketches were an unfiltered take on life aboard the Belgica, a chronicle of the men’s frustrations and inside jokes.

listen. when julian said these cartoons were bawdy i was like yeah sure okay. but my god, the man did not hold back. he was KINKY. he was obsessed with butts in particular, drawing the ass of his scientific colleague henryk arctowski over and over, including comparisons to the flat backside of lieutenant danco:

there were also cartoons dealing with shitting blood, watching women piss, and naked boxing. you can literally look at them all yourself although i will say they're about 1000x funnier if you know the people involved so it's a nice treat after you finish reading madhouse. but here's another favorite demonstrating the harsh realities of an icebound ship ("promenade in the caca avenue"):

anyway while the life-threatening chaos of this frathouse-esque expedition was going on around him, and cook and amundsen were off somewhere staring into each other's eyes like in the "is this allowed!?!" vine, raco continued doing important scientific work, pranking the hell out of his shipmates, and also being adorable.

eventually the expedition freed themselves from the ice and returned home. raco resumed his research career, working with the other members of the expedition to compile and publish the results of their findings, and eventually rising in the ranks of the scientific establishment of europe.

basically what i love about raco and what brings me joy every day to contemplate is that he was clearly an enormous goof with a wide variety of deranged fetishes, but also a brilliant and hard-working scientist who founded an entirely new scientific field (biospeleogy, the study of cave organisms) and grew up to be a hot dad, the most badass looking grandpa, and ended his life as one of the most respected and renowned scientists in all of romanian history. he's on stamps!!!!!!!!!!!! sometimes i reflect on how he seems to be a man before his time, but also i guess i am grateful he was born in the 1800s and not the 80s because i think if he had access to the internet he definitely would've been a chronic shitposter and not got nearly as much important science done.

#emil racovita #polar exploration

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blucifer08 · 1 year ago

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Naru Lore Dump

Okay I used to have like a pinned post about my characters and their lore but things changed and the story grew a lot; and someone needed an entire document for a fic thing from me so ytd i put together a VERY rough summary of Naru's lore from pre-ARR to EW and I figured I'd share it here and pin it to my page in case anyone wants to know about Naru.

This is, very rough, very simplified, but it gives the general gist of Naru's story and themes, so if you're ever curious, here it is under a readmore:

Naru grew up on the Steppe. She is a Kahkol, and her family was killed early on and she was left to wander the Steppe on her own. As a result, she was forced to learn to hunt for herself and to clean the animals herself. She got very good at dismembering. That is her main trait in battle later, she is very good at identifying weak places in joints in order to cut someone up in battle with ease–to make up for her smaller size as an Au Ra.

Eventually, Magnai picked her up off the Steppe and she was introduced to the Oronirs. She was given to a family, and Magnai treated her like a younger sister. Naru learned of Nhaama and Azim, and in this story, she found comfort. Ever since Naru can remember, she has felt a stark loneliness inside herself–even further than the loneliness of having lost one’s family. Something deeper, as though something were missing. And upon hearing the tale of Azim and Nhaama, Naru became horribly fixated on the idea that finding her Nhaama would help fix that feeling. (This was very influenced by Magnai, though his gendered view didn’t really get passed onto her)

Naru left the Steppe in search of her Nhaama, becoming convinced that they would not be anywhere on the Steppe, as she decided she didn’t fit in there. She then joined the Doman resistance for a time with young Hien. Naru developed a crush on Hien, of which he lightly used as a point to keep her fighting for their cause–Naru’s skill at dismembering was a great advantage for them. Naru took up the samurai sword under his tutelage and quickly surpassed him. She eventually kissed him as a show of her adoration, and he turned her down, shattering her young, fragile heart. She continued to fight for a time, though her spirits had dropped.

During an intense fight, Naru gets shot in the side. She has to flee the battlefield and winds up knocked out on a shore. A fisherman picks her up and tends to her, and she ends up travelling from port to port. Her wound becomes infected along the way, and after a long adventure, she stumbles upon Ul’dah. She eventually collapses onto a side street, her infected bullet wound becoming too much to bear.

She is approached by a pink-haired Viera man. He’s a bit cocky when he offers her help, but she’s in no place to turn him down. He carries her away and to an unmarked door in the Sapphire avenue exchange, and down to what seems to be a bar. He reveals himself to be Levi, a white mage, studying to be a black mage, but perfectly capable of helping her. He tends to her with practical means and with magic and she rests there in a small apartment above the bar. His name is Levi; and he introduces her to his business partner: Ehva, a Miqo’te from Limsa who used to engage in a little piracy to pay off her parent’s gambling debts, but now has settled down to enjoy running a bar.

Naru is quite lost at this point, but she agrees to stay and help out at the bar for room and board. She moves in with Levi in the apartment–Ehva lives somewhere else, citing needing a better separation of work and fun than Levi needs. Naru is terrible at bartending, and she often slips out of the work to take up adventuring instead. This earns her a slight reputation in Ul’dah.

One day, Naru and Levi are on a walk when they come across a man advertising his future-telling. He offers them a free session. He calls himself Solomon, and tells their futures. To Levi, he gives a very vague, clearly half-assed reading. But to Naru, he suddenly becomes incredibly interested and excited to spill the details. He smiles and tells her, “Your Moon is not far. You will meet him in this life, but it will not be as you expect, budding adventurer.” This elates Naru, and it is the beginning of when Levi notices Naru has a problem.

Naru is borderline obsessed with destroying the lonely feeling she has. It has made Naru obsessed with finding love, she believes that there is someone out there made for her and only her. Levi assures Naru over and over throughout their early adventures that she doesn’t need love, friends and family can be enough, and that SHE can be enough for herself.

(There are things occurring in the background here. Solomon has his own story and own motivations, but it doesn’t matter for the intents and purposes of this document! But he basically goes and tattles about Naru’s connection to the Ascians, of which will elaborated upon. It is worth mentioning that Solomon is part voidsent, and part of his motivation is to steal aether from his clients)

The story proceeds per usual for a while, per normal ARR things. Levi and Ehva abandon their bar for a time and join Naru on her adventure as warrior of light, and during ARR, Levi and Naru get incredibly close. They’re inseparable best friends–despite Levi’s constant irritation with her point of view of the world. In my canon, Levi is possessed by Lahabrea at the end of ARR instead of Thancred, so there’s a bit of angst there but it still doesn’t diverge too insanely from canon.

Things start to change for Naru during her first meeting with the mysterious white-robed Ascian, Elidibus. He gives his little speech about their plans and wanting to check out the Warrior of Light, but Naru feels a strange feeling around him. She ignores it for now.

Until during Heavensward, Elidibus approaches her again in her room at night. She immediately attacks him. He insists that he just wants to speak to her, that he is not there to hurt her, but she won’t have much of it. After nearly getting stabbed through with a samurai sword, Elidibus finally relents and leaves. Until Naru attends a Masquerade ball that Aymeric has invited her to. Elidibus appears at the banquet with no mask; thus concealing HIS identity as an Ascian. Naru dances with him, and the feeling returns. She becomes confused and steals off to a balcony, which he follows her to. Naru impulsively kisses him, he is rather surprised as romance wasn’t necessarily his intent, and reveals his identity. After a bit of back-and-forth and having to accept she just kissed an Ascian, she decides to perform a crazy trust test and drags him off a balcony with her to see if he would save them both–he does.

After this they kindle a secret relationship. He reveals that, long long ago, the world was whole. And in that time, he loved someone. He can’t remember them. Not their face, not their name, he just knows he loved them. He knows he hurt them in some way before the world was ripped asunder, and something happened between their souls. Now Elidibus holds a piece of their soul, and they held a piece of his–and when they were sundered, it meant Naru had a considerably sized fragment of his soul within her.

Thus, the lonesome feeling she had always felt was one he had experienced too. Their souls were reaching out for their other pieces, trying to become whole once again, unnaturally torn apart somehow. They fall in love, spending time together in secret. Naru becomes a bit distant, but Levi is pleased to see that she’s suddenly no longer interested in finding her moon–However he has no idea she has already found her “moon.” She didn’t outgrow the idea; Elidibus simply satisfied it.

Things go fairly per MSQ. Naru and Elidibus never concede on their ideas, merely they often agree (with exceptions) not to talk about it. They fail to uphold this agreement when Elidibus possesses Zenos and their relationship becomes a bit rocky, but mends eventually because they have become fairly co-dependent on each other emotionally.

Naru proceeds into Shb, but Elidibus warns her that if she continues down the road she is on, they will ultimately fight. She is stubborn, and holds fast to her ideals. Naru is an actions person, not a words person, and she often remains quiet when they have these conversations on the Source, between her adventures on the First. She will let him watch her refuse him.

Emet-Selch and Naru grow close as Emet-Selch manipulates Naru with his woes and sad tales. He speaks of Azem, and quickly connects the pieces for Naru that she was once Azem, and Azem is the mysterious person whom Elidibus had loved. Emet-Selch is very kind to Naru at first, attempting to pull Azem’s nature from her. However, Azem was a bold and brash person who said what was on their mind. Naru by contrast is a bit quiet, sometimes a LITTLE shy, actions over words, and keeps her thoughts to herself. Emet-Selch, in his delusion, perceives this as weakness on Naru’s part. He continues having her consume light warden after light warden, and once she’s near to bursting with light, just like canon, he invites her to Amaurot.

Naru, ever keen to handle her problems herself, stumbles to Amaurot by herself. He welcomes her sweetly at first, and waits for the moment she can barely even move, then reveals that Naru is not good enough. She is not like Azem, she will never be enough. Naru refutes this, and says she doesn’t need to be like Azem.

Emet-Selch clarifies. He claims that Naru is like Azem in only one way. That she is selfish. He provides the rest of the details on Elidibus and Azem’s souls, that Azem had begged Elidibus during the final days to be with her, to refuse to become Zodiark, to finally abandon his duty and think of himself and to think of her. He refuses. She begs again, and asks him to merge souls with her (Lahabrea and Athena style) so that he may understand her feelings. She begins the process, hoping that showing him a bit of her love for him will change his mind… But he is persistent in separating “Elidibus” and “Themis.” He rips their souls apart and in the process, their souls get fragmented and swapped. Azem ran away, and Emet-Selch caught up with her and heard the tale. He tried to stop Azem, but they ran away and hid for the remainder of the time before the Sundering.

Emet-Selch poses this as similar to Naru’s actions now; she refuses to give up her desires (being a wol, saving the world, not letting the ascians win) and demands that Elidibus give up his duty–and this is causing him strain. Emet-Selch exaggerates, getting into Naru’s head and manipulating her into thinking that she has caused Elidibus a lot of suffering.

Then the light becomes too much, and Emet-Selch whisks her away to lie in wait for her friends to arrive. Levi, Ehva, and the scions arrive and Naru has turned completely into a sin eater, dubbed “Desiderium.” (Longing.) There is a long, emotional battle, and Levi tries to appeal to his best friend, and it works. Naru’s strong will and desires stirs her dynamis, and allows her to take control of her body once more and to protect her soul from being completely obliterated by the light. And as a Lightwarden, she destroys Emet-Selch. After this, she is permanently a sin eater, one whose body is manipulated into shape by Dynamis. Naru must work hard to keep control of herself at all times; and at this time those around her must be wary of passive light damage. (Later Vrtra gives her a warding scale and this protects people from her light.)

5.3 comes around and it’s obviously rather emotional, neither Naru nor Elidibus backs down. But it ultimately reveals to Levi that Naru was in love with an Ascian the entire time–which isn’t really the big betrayal. It’s that Naru never grew. Levi thought he had had an effect on his best friend, that she had learned to find worth within herself and love herself, to love her friends, and fill the gap she felt herself. But it turns out, that the entire time, she was just relying on someone who Levi sees as manipulating her. She was being ‘weak,’ in his eyes, choosing to let Elidibus soothe an ache that he saw as an ache that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

He goes to Naru’s room when she’s resting afterward, and the two have a massive argument. Naru is covered in light scars after the sin eater ordeal with Emet-Selch, and Levi calls them ugly symbols of her weakness. She had gotten too close to Emet-Selch, and clearly too close to Elidibus. This fight breaks them up severely, and Ehva tries to calm it, but the two will not speak to each other for some time.

Naru does most of Endwalker alone, for this reason. She casts away the samurai blade and takes up the scythe, choosing to wear clothes that cover more of her skin. She and Levi meet in Garlemald later, and he tells her that she’s insane for trying to do everything on her own. She tells him that, “If you want to join me, then beat me in a fight.” They fight, but Levi knows he has no chance of beating a Light Warden, essentially, by himself. They take out their anger on each other.

Elidibus in the tower sends Naru to Elpis. He apologizes for the dependency he created, admitting that though he did not realize how far Naru’s obsession with the “azim and nhaama” story went, he did understand to some extent that he had caused her to be incredibly emotionally dependent on him. He sends her to Elpis.

Long story short for Elpis, Naru tries to kill Emet-Selch for having turned her into a sin eater, he is obviously confused, Hythlodaeus and Venat have to defuse things, Emet-Selch half apologizes. Naru does a lot of investigating into Azem, wanting to know how different they truly are. She doesn’t find out much. She grows closer to Emet-Selch, starts to heal slightly internally about the things he said to her at the end of Shb.

She leaves and MSQ completes as normal. Naru considers summoning Elidibus to help fight Meteion but she wants him to rest and leaves him be. Levi and Naru make up in UT and Levi sacrifices himself to help Naru get to the end.

There are a lot more shenanigans going on in the background that aren’t really dire for me to list. The fortune teller, Solomon, is a very important character. He ends up helping Fandaniel gain control of Zodiark and he toys with Naru’s depression after having lost Elidibus in order to steal her bountiful aether and her gil. Solomon also becomes involved with Levi, who becomes a powerful black mage, and wants his aether (and a few other things…) as well.

Endwalker is a lot about Naru learning to be happy with herself, learning to grieve, and accept the good and bad about herself and others.

#long post #naru lore #lore #ffxiv spoilers #IT HAS STUFF FROM ALL EXPACS SO EXPECT SPOILERS #i think it just comes with the territory #anyways if you read this i am kissing you metaphorically

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hubrisbracket · 1 year ago

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Okay but I feel like a lot of characters are losing bc their submitters assumed everyone knew their story already and therefore didn't really try with their propaganda. We should fix that.

So, here's some stuff on Catra:

Her entire motivation boils down to 1) proving to her terrible mother figure that she's good enough and 2) getting back at Adora for leaving her behind in an abusive situation

She works hard to rise up the ranks in the evil empire, and uses increasingly unethical avenues to gain more power

In her pursuit of revenge, she pushes away every chance for growth she's given, some of which would've been really good for her mental health.

At one point, there's this big portal thing that's going to tear the universe apart, and Adora tries to turn it off. Catra lets it do the thing to spite her. She would rather risk everyone, including herself, dying a horrible death than let Adora be right about something. The image of her face all black like that is from the resulting warped reality corrupting her

After that, Catra did not learn her lesson and continued to push away and/or betray every ally she had, until she was left an emotional wreck, desperatly looking for anything to get her power back, and pledged her loyalty to the Big Bad

She does eventually get it together but, like, man. What the fuck.

EXCELLENT catra propaganda, thank you for the submission.

#here at hubrisbracket we stan catra #mod bee #ask #propaganda #hubris post #catra #i will add i do think von karma is a really strong contestant as well and the AA fandom is huge so i don't think it's *just*#lack of propaganda #but for sure keep sending in propaganda esp for characters that only have a few sentences bc it does help your blorbo's cause o7 #(+ also we the mods love reading them)

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redphienix · 1 year ago

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I gotta say it

I tried making a new tumblr account to see how the early experience is and fucking christ I wouldn't and will not be recommending this website to fucking anyone until they fix that shit.

You are not forced to follow blogs at the start, but it certainly fucking TRIES, you have to click out and around to get to just your dash without being funneled into following the curated handful they decided upon for each "popular tag".

I did this for a while but eventually- to get the full experience- succumbed and did all the "You're new!" things which included following like 5 tags and blogs and setting a profile pic- the usual.

So I have some fun odds and ends to share at the end but my main fucking issue is this god awful thing:

You are FORCED onto the "For You" tab. Doesn't matter if you follow like 30 people, you're FORCED into "For You". You can click Following but the SECOND you refresh the page say by clicking the "t" on the top left of the page you're shoved right back into the 10 billion blogs you don't follow page and I HATE IT.

IT'S FUCKING UNBEARABLE, I DON'T *WANT* TO SEE ALL THESE BLOGS I DIDN'T FOLLOW.

But what's INFURIATING is that "Manage" tab?

It fucking doesn't do anything.

I turned off my blocks and all that in order to even see this tab- on my main I have that blocked and blissfully never see it- this was not an option on my alt because it kept forcing me to "For You" so I had to turn off ublock just to fucking get out of that hell- all to say it not doing anything isn't on my end.

Clicking Manage just takes you to the fucking tumblr labs page which gives you the option to add MORE tabs but NOT change which is the default or remove any tabs.

Meaning my new account was forever stuck on For You as its main avenue- it's fucking horrid- it fucking sucks- it's fucking 0/10 I would never use that site

WHAT THE FUCK.

Additional fun bits. I tried making my profile pic a shirtless dude- it got immediately removed and my account shadow banned (no messenger, no drop down mini-profile, activity invisible to other users)- within 20 minutes it was un-shadow-banned so I thought "Okay. Real mature."

So I made my description include the phrase "18+ only please" and that was enough to permanently shadow ban the new account.

I was playing with fire on that one, but it was funny to get an account banned without even making a single post.

BUT- now that that account is shadow banned IT CAN'T BE DELETED.

I can make side blogs and delete them just fine- but the main account is now UNDELETABLE because it's shadow banned I guess.

Really neat experience, 0/10, I won't be recommending tumblr to anyone until I see that For You page tab system fixed. I want it removed, full stop, but I can offer the slightest compromise of "STOP FUCKING FORCING IT DUMBASS" at the very least.

#my posts

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rafael-silva · 3 years ago

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steady me with your touch: a tarlos fic

A call brings the 126 crew, APD and the Texas Rangers together. When Carlos gets hurt on said scene, Gabriel bears witness to TK working through his worry as he takes care of Carlos, the love and deep connection between them evident as clear as the sun shines. In the aftermath, TK is there for his boyfriend, in more ways than one.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + arm in a sling

hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, paramedic tk, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, kisses, whump, comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft boyfriends

5.7k | rated T | on ao3

*****

Walking into the precinct that morning, the air heavy with tension and stress, Carlos had an inkling about the day that lied ahead. And in retrospect, Carlos’s gut was proven right.

*****

Switching off the siren and hopping out of the patrol car, Carlos and Mitchell quickly stride towards their captain, who is wearing a grim look as he speaks to a couple of other officers. Carlos looks around, noticing a perimeter already being set by his colleagues as bystanders start to gather across the street.

Captain Kendricks turns in their direction as they approach him.

“Reyes, Mitchell, good that you got here so quick,” he says.

“Captain,” Carlos nods as he slips on his vest. “We were a few blocks over when the call came in.”

Before the captain can reply, the echo of more sirens grab their attentions. Turning in the direction of the incoming sounds, Carlos immediately finds the bold 126 numbers painted on the side of the firetruck, followed by the ambulance.

His eyes remain fixed on the vehicles as the firefighters disembark, watching as Owen searches the crowd for the person in command of the scene before even his boots hit the ground.

The fire captain’s eyes quickly find Carlos and Captain Kendricks and he says something to Judd before hurrying over to the police officers.

“Captain Kendricks,” Owen greets, extending his hand.

“Captain Strand,” Kendricks replies, shaking Owen’s extended hand.

“Officer Reyes, Officer Mitchell.”

“Captain Strand,” Carlos responds next.

“What’s the situation?”

“I was just about to brief Officers Reyes and Mitchell. We have a hostage situation, it was called in about ten minutes ago. The daughter made the call, she and her parents had come home and according to her, she had gone to her bedroom straight away, and a few moments later she heard arguing and strange voices coming from the living room. She discovered three men in black ski masks, armed, and yelling at her parents. She ran back to her room and called 911. And it appears to have started out as a robbery.”

Owen nods. “So, at least three robbers.”

Captain Kendricks nods. “We’re still trying to establish communication with the intruders, and in the meantime, the daughter is still on the line with 911,” the captain continues. “Where is she hiding?”

“Her bedroom, north-east side of the building.”

“Any updates, Captain Kendricks?” Another voice pops up, approaching the group.

At hearing the familiar voice, Carlos turns to see his father making his way towards them and gets a nod from Gabriel when their eyes meet.

“No new updates yet, Major.”

“Sir,” Carlos greets his father.

“Captain Strand,” Gabriel extends his hand.

“Major Reyes,” Owen reciprocates, shaking the offered palm.

“Captain Strand, I’ll need you and your crew close and on stand by,” Kendricks states, then turning to Carlos and Mitchell, “Reyes, Mitchell, I want you to cover the back door, along with Banks and Carter. Keep your eyes open and watch each other’s backs, report any movement.”

“Yes, sir,” Carlos responds.

Looking back in the direction of the firetruck, Carlos sees the 126 crew standing near, talking together and looking at the building. He quickly finds TK, and unlike everyone else, the paramedic is looking straight at him, also having sought out his boyfriend amid the crowd.

They start a wordless conversation, declarations spoken through brown and green gates as they connect on a deeper level, the world around them momentarily fading away. A wave of understanding sways between them, an invisible string extending and bridging them together; they both know what the other is expressing, speaking through their hearts, the words echoing in their eyes, seeing into each other’s souls. Carlos gives TK a nod, which the paramedic replies to with a small smile.

Turning back, Carlos shares a look with his father.

Gabriel’s hand moves to Carlos’s face, gently patting his cheek then his shoulder.

“Be careful, son,” Gabriel pleads.

“Will do, sir,” Carlos replies, giving his dad a smile.

Gabriel watches as his son glances over his shoulder one more time before walking into the opposite direction and towards the back of the building, his partner on his heels.

Gabriel turns to glimpse in the direction Carlos had just looked in and easily finds TK, the younger man’s eyes trailed on Carlos. The Ranger’s movement then catches TK’s eyes and they share a look. Gabriel gives him a smile and nod, which TK swiftly return.

*****

They found the daughter, TK had overheard Captain Kendricks telling Owen and Gabriel.

The atmosphere is tense and the air thick as PD and the Rangers work to establish communication with the assailants, which still hasn’t proven manageable. And now without the daughter on the line with dispatch anymore, they are blind to what is happening inside the apartment.

A couple of other officers were assigned to the back of the building along with Carlos and the others, but it’s also been radio silence on their end.

TK is pacing back and forth in front of the truck and ambulance, his shoulders squared and face tight, rubbing his hands together, busying himself.

He can hear his father, Gabriel and Captain Kendricks nearby, discussing what the best course of action would be if it remains radio silence for another few minutes.

He stops moving when the radio comes to life with Carlos’s voice.

“This is 363-H-20,” Carlos’s voice is low and hushed. “Possible movement in the back.”

TK holds his breath, waiting, and then his heart promptly plummets into his stomach at the next transmission, his eyes going wide with fear at the words.

“Shots fired, I repeat, shots fired,” Carlos yells, his voice loud now. “Requesting back up!”

TK swallows against his dry throat when his ears catch the harsh sound of bullets hitting steel and brick in the background of Carlos’s message.

The sun watching over them and the heat engulfing them is suddenly too much for TK, his entire body sizzling from the inside out as his heart beats fiercely against his rib cage.

“Four suspects fleeing north, in pursuit on foot,” Carlos continues a few moments later.

“Hey, hang on, brother,” a close voice pierces TK’s ears. He turns to find Judd’s hand on his shoulder. “They’ll radio if they need EMS. He’s okay.”

He’s okay? TK wants to scoff. He just got rained on by a shower of bullets, he thinks.

TK then looks down and realizes he’d taken a few steps forward, unconsciously trying to get to Carlos. All possibilities of what could go wrong start to rush through his mind; what if Carlos got hit but the adrenaline is masking the pain? What if he collapses while he’s chasing the criminals?

And as if Judd had spoken it into the universe, the radio chirps to life, an unfamiliar voice to TK calling for medical assistance.

The foreign voice alone gets TK’s heart racing some more, his mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that Carlos is the one hurt now that he’s not on the radio. It’s not a given, of course, TK knows, but his mind can’t be convinced otherwise in the moment, his fear of losing Carlos bigger than logic.

TK lifts his head towards the group of officers just in time to see a bunch of them joined by a few Rangers, including Gabriel, rush to their vehicles.

A few other officers make their way towards the paramedics, and lead them to where they’re needed, towards the fallen officer. TK’s legs move on their own accord, he needs to know.

TK feels the sweat roll down his neck and back as they get closer to the officers, he tightens his hold on the medkit, repeating please be okay, Carlos, please be okay, over and over in his head.

He gets a proper view of the officer on the ground and his shoulders sag a little, a sigh escaping him when he sees it’s not Carlos. He drops the medkid and kneels next to the cop, his partner speaking on his behalf.

“He took a round to his vest, it didn’t go through but he said it hurts to breathe a little.”

The paramedics work in unison to get the officer assessed and stable. TK had seen both of the cops at Carlos’s precinct a couple of times but he hasn’t spoken to them before.

A question over the radio grabs his attention then.

“What’s your location, Reyes?” Kendricks speaks into his radio.

“Just passed Brazos and East 4th,” comes Carlos’s quick reply around his pants.

“Copy, back up is in en route.”

TK takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, gathering his nerves. Carlos is going to be okay.

A few blocks away, Carlos watches as the four suspects break into two group, each going in opposite directions.

“They’ve split up,” Carlos relays. “Banks and Carter, go East, Mitchell and I will stay on them heading north.”

Sirens fill the air around Carlos as he pushes his muscles and wills his legs to keep running, the suspects just ahead of him as he sees them turn a corner.

“Suspects have turned a corner, heading West on 5th,” Carlos speaks into his radio, slowing to a jog and eventually stopping.

“Reyes?” Mitchell questions as she slows next to her partner.

“We can cut them off before they reach West Avenue,” Carlos tells Mitchell, gathering his breath. “There’s a shortcut to West 5th,” he explains, pointing to a nearby alley. “Through there.”

Mitchell nods and follows Carlos into the alley. They quickly make their way between the buildings, eventually reaching the main street. They slow down when they’re almost at West 5th street, staying close against the wall to conceal their movements. Carlos carefully peaks his head out, his heart hammering in his chest as he searches for any signs of the suspects.

“Anything?” Mitchell whispers.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies. “They’re heading this way, almost half a block behind.”

Thankfully, the street isn’t busy and there are no bystanders in close vicinity of the robbers. When Carlos gives the signal, he and Mitchell jump out from the alley and into the path of the men, their guns drawn.

The two men freeze, their own guns in their grip and Carlos can instantly read them like an open book.

“Don’t move and don’t even think about it. Lower your weapons and the duffel bags, slowly,” Carlos orders.

“Do it,” Mitchell adds with a stern tone.

The two men don’t move for a few moments before they follow the orders, lowering their guns to the asphalt along with the bags. With her gun still drawn, Mitchell carefully moves forward and kicks the guns away. Then she and Carlos return their own guns to their holsters and move to cuff the suspects.

In a quick move, the man Carlos is holding flicks his head back, and Carlos would have ended up with a broken nose if it weren’t for his quick reflexes, jerking his head backwards and out of the way of the oncoming assault. Carlos’s grip, however, loosens on the man, giving him just enough leverage to slip a little from his hold.

Carlos recovers quickly, locking the man’s wrists to keep him in place as he reaches for his cuffs, but the man continues at his attempt to break free from the officer’s hold.

Carlos is also aware that Mitchell is having her own go with the other suspect, trying to secure him in the same way, too.

The man in Carlos’s grasp sharply and suddenly leans forward, his arms still behind him as he wiggles some more, swaying his body to the side and tipping Carlos’s balance. The man, in another strong tug forward, manages to escape Carlos’s hold when the officer tries to regain his balance. He only reaches the end of the block before Carlos is tackling him to the ground, but not without injury, though. Carlos hears a sickening crack coming from his shoulder when he thuds harshly on his side, his arm and shoulder colliding with the asphalt, his other going around the man to keep him in place.

White, hot pain surges through his nerves and body, and he wants to scream out in agony. He manages to keep the man in place just long enough for Mitchell to run over, having cuffed the other guy and handed him to the back up that arrived moments ago, and takes over using Carlos’s cuffs on the man on the ground.

Carlos breathes out a throaty groan, his good arm free now to cradle his injured shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to regulate his breathing.

“Reyes?” He hears Mitchell call out but he doesn’t reply, the pain clouding his head and preventing him from doing anything except breathe through the continuous throbbing.

He’s vague aware of the sirens around them now, blaring and ear-piercing and he can see the red and blue lights dancing across beyond his closed eyelids.

Carlos’s focus leaves his surroundings and travel to the aching pain and shocks running up and down his arm. But soon, another voice filters through, getting closer. At first, the voice seems so far away, as if Carlos were underwater and the voice above. That voice is one he replies to.

“Carlos?”

“Dad…” Carlos mumbles through clenched teeth.

“What happened?” He hears Gabriel ask.

“Carlos tackled him to the ground, but I didn’t see it happen. I looked up after cuffing the other guy and Carlos was on the ground with him,” Mitchell explains.

“Can you open your eyes for me, son?”

Carlos takes a deep breath through his nose and wills his eyes to open. He finds his father’s concerned face through the momentary blur, and he shakes his head to clear his vision. It seems that wasn’t the best of choices because the action sends a sharp sting running through his head but it fades after a few moments.

“There you are,” Gabriel visibly relaxes a little at seeing Carlos awake. “What hurts?”

“Shoulder,” Carlos pants. “Fell on it.”

Gabriel’s eyes go to Carlos’s shoulder and he grimaces at the unnatural angle the joint is in.

“It’s dislocated,” Gabriel sighs.

Carlos groans again, moving his body to the side, as if he wanted to curl into himself and will the discomfort away. However, all he ends up doing is hissing in pain.

“Stay still, Carlos,” Gabriel warns and then turns to Mitchell. “Radio for EMS.”

She nods, getting to her feet and hauls the cuffed man away, pressing down on her radio to request medical and reports their location.

Gabriel then kneels next to his son and gently settles a hand behind his uninjured shoulder.

“Here, let me help you sit up,” Gabriel says, and receives a nod from Carlos.

Carlos lifts his good arm and wraps his fingers around his father’s wrist for leverage, and mostly using Gabriel’s strength and with the Ranger’s support on his back, they manage to get Carlos up and sitting in a swift but careful motion, but even the slight jostling sends sharp stabbing like pains through Carlos’s arm and shoulder that have him groaning again.

“You okay?” Gabriel asks, his voice coated with worry, hating to see his son in pain.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies a few moments after collecting his breath, his voice shakier than he intended.

His good arm goes back to holding his other, and Gabriel keeps his hand on Carlos’s back, supporting Carlos both literally and figuratively. A part of Gabriel knows that Carlos can very well tumble backwards if it weren’t for his support and it’s also to remind for Carlos that he isn’t alone.

Gabriel looks up when he senses quick movement approaching and sees the paramedics jogging towards them.

“Major Reyes,” TK is the first to speak, his grip on the medkit strap tightening.

Gabriel can pin point the moment TK realizes it’s Carlos who is injured, by the way the young paramedic’s breath hitches and eyes go wide. But he also quickly observes how TK is doing his best to keep himself composed, focused and professional, and to not let his emotions cloud him or cause him to freeze.

“He tackled the suspect and hit his shoulder and arm on the ground,” Gabriel tells them, his eyes moving back to Carlos.

“Hi babe,” TK meets Carlos’s eyes as he kneels next to him, his green irises radiating worry.

The officer gives him the best smile he could muster in hopes of easing the panic he can see drawn on TK’s face.

“How are you doing?”

Carlos swallows. “Okay.”

“How’s your pain?” Tommy asks next, her voice calm and motherly.

Gabriel notices how TK’s eyes keep moving from unpacking the equipment they need to Carlos, emitting fear and worry. He can see how TK takes some comfort from the fact that Carlos is sitting up, awake and alert, but Gabriel can also tell it’s still not quite enough to completely relieve the young man’s anxiety at seeing Carlos injured, judging by the strain in his shoulders as he works.

“Uh…the pain is maybe a seven? Eight?”

TK’s eyes roam over Carlos’s face, studying him and finds sweat collecting on Carlos’s forehead. His eyes then move down to his middle, where Carlos is holding himself a little unnaturally and taking shallow breaths, TK creasing his eyebrows at the realization.

“Carlos, does anything else hurt?” TK asks, worry evident in his voice.

“My back and down my side,” Carlos winces around a breath. “Breathing hurts a little. It’s like…every breath echoes into my back and it’s like a stabbing pain.”

TK nods and with the help of Gabriel, they gently remove Carlos’s kevlar vest and then TK moves to lift Carlos’s uniform shirt.

He knew to expect a bruise there, Carlos’s momentum when he hit the ground enough to cause that, but he still can’t help the sharp breath he draws in when his eyes land on the dark red bruise already formed down his boyfriend’s back and side.

TK sees Gabriel have the same reaction from the corner of his eye. He gently starts examining the bruise, lightly pressing down on the skin around it and Carlos lets out a low groan.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

Carlos nods, it’s okay.

As he lowers the shirt, TK shares a look with the Ranger and sees the same concern surging through his own body mirrored back at him.

“Cap, back and side are heavily bruised.”

Tommy nods in acknowledgment and then turns to Nancy when she speaks.

“Vitals are holding, Cap, a little low, but they’re stable,” Nancy reports.

Tommy nods again. “Lets see what we can do about that pain now, yeah, Carlos?”

Tommy tells Nancy to administer pain medication through the IV line she just inserted and secured. Carlos lets out a steady breath a few moments later.

“Better?” TK asks.

Carlos nods.

“That’s good,” TK gives him a smile.

“Okay, Carlos, we have to slip your shoulder back into the joint. It won’t be pleasant, the pain will only last for a few seconds though and the meds we gave you will help,” Tommy says.

Carlos nods. “Had a dislocated shoulder before.”

“Alright, then, you know the drill.”

TK moves to Carlos’s uninjured side as Gabriel gets up and steps back, giving them space to work. Tommy now opposite TK, together they get ready, positioning Carlos and TK takes Carlos’s uninjured hand into his own, giving it a squeeze.

After a moment or two, Tommy starts counting and in between the second and third count, she expertly reduces the dislocation and Carlos’s shoulder pops back into the socket.

Carlos’s knuckles go white as his grip on TK’s hand tightens, the seconds of pain causing him to squeeze TK’s hand with everything he’s got. He feels TK run his thumb over his skin as the wave of pain begins to wash away.

“All done,” Tommy smiles at Carlos. “It’s going to be tender and sore for a few days, so take it easy,” she gives him a pointed look.

“Reminds me of an exact same conversation we had a few years ago, that time he sprained his ankle and wanted to walk around the ranch to fix some holes in the fence,” Gabriel says, his tone playful and a little teasing. “We told him to take it easy and yet I found him limping down the stairs less than ten minutes later.”

“I just…like to be helpful and I hate it when an injury gets in the way of that.”

“I hear you, Carlos. But don’t push yourself or you might end up doing more damage. And in this case, it means complete minimal movement of your shoulder, and it’s best if you don’t use it at all for a few days,” Tommy says.

Carlos drops his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t forget, I know your boy really well,” Tommy turns to look at TK. “I’ve learned how to deal with a certain version of the phrase taking it easy.”

Gabriel chuckles again at Tommy’s comment, getting the sense that the two young men have more in common than he initially thought.

TK doesn’t argue, instead he reaches for the arm sling and Gabriel watches as he carefully helps Carlos put it on, securing his arm against his chest and tightening the strap so his arm is properly supported.

“There,” TK says. “And take it easy,” he winks at Carlos.

Carlos chuckles and nods.

Gabriel himself relaxes a little more after watching the exchange, seeing how both Carlos and TK were a little more at ease now that the officer was a little better. He can still see concern at the edges of TK’s eyes and on his face, but he supposes it will be a few days until the remnants of worry are completely gone.

“Can you walk to the ambulance?” Tommy asks.

Carlos frowns, eyes going to his father and then TK. “I thought we were done.”

TK shakes his head. “We still need to take you to the hospital, get some x rays to make sure everything is okay and to check on your muscles and ligaments, too. It’s precautionary, just to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be and nothing on the inside has been injured in the fall.”

Carlos sighs and nods.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Gabriel says once they get Carlos inside to rig and TK hops in after him.

“Dad, it’s okay,” Carlos starts from where he’s lying upright on the gurney.

Gabriel’s shake of his head stops the officer. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he repeats.

“Okay, sir,” Carlos gives him a grateful smile.

Carlos is pretty exhausted and sleeps during the ride to the hospital, TK keeping a steady hold on his hand the whole way, grounding him and giving him comfort.

Carlos is taken to an exam room upon arrival, the nurses allow TK to stay with him while Tommy and Nancy are told to stay in the waiting area, which is where Gabriel finds them ten minutes after their arrival.

“Major Reyes,” Tommy says once she spots him. “Carlos is being examined right now, TK is with him and he’ll come with updates.”

Gabriel nods and takes a seat in one of plastic chairs, fishing his phone from his pocket to call his wife.

After reassuring Andrea that Carlos is okay and he’s being checked over and promising Carlos will call her as soon as he can, he hangs up in time to see TK walk over to them.

“The doctor’s initial exam shows that everything is fine, but they’re taking him to get an x ray to make certain,” TK explains.

“That’s good to hear,” Gabriel smiles, patting TK on the shoulder.

TK nods, returning the smile.

Carlos is back in the exam room shortly after, TK and Gabriel with him. Carlos is speaking to his father after finishing his call with Andrea when TK’s radio comes to life.

“It’s okay,” Carlos says before TK can apologize. “I’m fine, and the x ray is going to show just that.”

“I’ll take him home,” Gabriel nods.

“Oh,” Carlos frowns a little at a realization. “My car is at the precinct.”

“I can have dad take me there after shift and I’ll get it home,” TK says.

“Okay,” Carlos nods. “The keys are in my locker.”

TK nods, moving closer to Carlos. “I’ll see you at home,” he takes Carlos’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I’ll see you at home, babe,” Carlos squeezes back. “Go save lives.”

“Bye, Mr. Reyes,” TK waves as he walks towards the door.

“Bye, TK. Stay safe,” Gabriel replies.

TK nods again and with one last look at Carlos, who is still smiling and gives him a nod himself, TK turns on his heels and walks through the hospital, meeting his team outside.

*****

“Babe, I’m home,” TK calls out as he walks through the door, dropping the keys into the bowl sitting on the table next to the door.

He immediately spots Carlos in the kitchen by the fridge, who smiles widely upon seeing TK.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos replies, closing the fridge door. “How was the rest of shift?”

“You should be resting,” TK raises his eyebrows as he walks over to Carlos. “It was fine, a little slow towards the end.”

“I am, resting that is, I was just getting some orange juice,” Carlos replies. “Welcome home,” he whispers before returning the soft kiss TK leans in for.

TK sighs into the kiss, a hand going to cup Carlos’s cheek. He pulls back slightly to plant another kiss to Carlos’s lips, both of them pouring their everything into it, feeling each other, reassuring each other.

“Hi,” TK whispers when they pull apart, resting his forehead against Carlos’s.

“Hi yourself,” Carlos whispers back, a small smile spreading on his face.

“How are you feeling?” TK asks, a thumb caressing Carlos’s cheek.

“Okay,” Carlos replies. “Me and dad ordered pizza. You know, one of the easier things to eat with…” he trails off, gesturing to his sling.

TK nods.

“Definitely easier than changing out of your uniform with a sore shoulder,” Carlos shakes his head. “And showering.”

TK frowns, eyes turning sad at the thought of Carlos in pain, but Carlos quickly goes to reassure TK.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle though,” Carlos says. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know, I just…I hate that you got hurt,” TK sighs, face falling and eyes going to Carlos’s injured arm.

It’s Carlos’s turn to gently cup TK’s face and guide him to look into his eyes.

“Hey,” Carlos soft calls. “I’ll be good as new in no time. A couple of weeks and I go for a check up and we take it from there.”

TK nods, eyes not leave Carlos’s, almost afraid that Carlos would somehow disappear if he looks away.

“Okay,” Carlos says as he closes the gap between them with another kiss.

Before either of them say anything else, TK’s stomach rumbles and reminds him that he’s very hungry. Carlos lifts an eyebrow, making TK chuckle.

“I ordered a pizza for you too, I put it in the oven to keep it warm,” Carlos adds.

“My savior,” TK brushes a kiss to Carlos’s cheek.

“Hm, if I recall correctly, you saved me today,” Carlos responds.

“Well, call it even,” TK smiles. “I’ll go take a quick shower then I can eat and we can carefully cuddle and watch a movie.”

“Exactly what I need.”

TK, however, doesn’t move and keeps watching Carlos.

“TK?” Carlos questions, his face turning into one of confusion.

“I’m not going until I’m sure you’re sitting safely on the couch,” TK shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Taking it easy, remember? I don’t want you hurting your shoulder again, and your parents hearing about it…I do not want to receive that phone call.”

Carlos playfully rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Okay, I’m going.”

He grabs the full glass of orange juice off the counter and walks over the couch, setting the cup down on the table and then lowering himself down on the fluffy cushion.

“Safe and sound. Now go shower,” Carlos gestures towards the bathroom. “I miss you and your cuddles.”

“Give me ten minutes,” TK smiles as he walks over to Carlos, dropping a kiss to the top of his head and then to his injured shoulder.

As promised, they’re cuddling thirty minutes later. TK had finished eating and went to grab a couple of water bottles before gently sitting on Carlos’s unhurt side. He lifts his arm for Carlos to come closer and TK carefully places his hand over Carlos’s injured shoulder, mindful not to add any pressure there.

Carlos snuggles against his boyfriend, pressing a light kiss to TK’s neck and then resting his head there. He closes his eyes as he breaths TK in, his mint scented body wash fresh and captivating. That’s what home smells like to Carlos now.

Carlos hums happily when TK starts carding his fingers through his loose soft curls, and TK smiles, knowing very well how that gesture calms the officer and relaxes him.

“How’s your back, baby? I know the doctor said the bruising isn’t as bad as we thought but are you in pain?”

“It’s okay, as long as I don’t move too much, I’m not in a lot of pain. And the doctor prescribed a gel that should make it better.”

TK sighs.

“Baby, it’s just cause it’s only been a few hours since…and sleep is going to help. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll ice it for you and apply the gel before we sleep. Is there anything you need right now?”

Carlos looks up at TK from his position. “I’ve got everything I need right here. You’re all I need, Ty, anytime, anywhere.”

“You’ve got me, ‘Los, always.”

TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a few extra moments. He needs to know that Carlos is really, truly okay, he needs to feel Carlos, and Carlos understands. So he tries to move even closer to TK without pain flaring up across his body.

“My dad was impressed by you, you know,” Carlos says after a few minutes of them watching the movie in silence.

“Me?”

Carlos nods. “With how you handled everything and stayed calm.”

“Oh, no, I was freaking out,” TK replies.

“I mean, he told me he could see how you were shaken up when you realized it was me, but you didn’t let that cloud you or get in the way. You stayed calm through the panic, stayed professional and held your ground even though you were freaking out on the inside. You controlled it, and he told me he’s rarely seen people be able to do that,” Carlos explains.

“Well, I had to make sure you come out of it okay.”

“And he’s also very grateful for that. My mom, too. I could hear it in her voice, she felt better when I told her you took care of me,” Carlos continues.

TK feels his heart warm at the knowledge of Gabriel and Andrea’s support and appreciation. It uplifts him and makes him incredibly happy, and he’s even happier knowing how much their approval of him means to Carlos.

“I was honestly just too focused on the pain so I wasn’t paying much attention to anything around, I hate that you had to see me hurt, but I’m also glad it was you at the scene. Because once I knew it was you next to me, I felt safe. I knew I was safe,” Carlos expresses.

“I’ll be here, always,” TK vows. “Through it all, I’ll always be right by your side.”

“And I will always be right by yours,” Carlos vows back.

“Just, let me take care of you, please. You’ve always taken great care of me, and of everyone really, it’s who you are and I know how important it is to you. But remember, baby, it’s okay to rely on others too, to get help when you need it,” TK says.

Carlos stays silent for a few moments, brushing his fingers over the material of his sweats. “It’s not…the easiest thing for me, doing that,” he eventually replies.

“I know and that’s okay, babe,” TK reassures him. “It starts with small steps. Besides, I always want to pamper my wonderful boyfriend.”

That makes Carlos smile and he nods. “Okay, I’ll work on it.”

They seal their promises with a passionate kiss, each of them giving as well as they’re receiving, immersed in each other in every possible way.

“That also wasn’t the first time I freaked out on that call,” TK admits when they separate.

Carlos sits up, facing TK and frowns a little.

“They called for medical after you reported shots were fired and it was another officer who requested EMS and…I freaked out. I was heard the call and I terrified you were hurt,” TK sighs.

“Oh, babe,” Carlos says softly. “That’s completely understandable. It all happened so quickly, the shots, Ryan getting hit in the vest…next thing I knew, I could hear Robert call for medical and I was already after the suspects. But hey, if I were hurt then, you would have taken great care of me, like you always do,” he strokes over TK’s hand with his thumb. “Like you did.”

TK nods, but his eyes glisten with unshed tears, making the green of his irises even brighter than normal.

“It just scares me,” TK sniffs.

“I know, and I’m scared for you, too. I can’t promise I won’t get hurt again, but what I can promise, is that I will always fight to come home to you,” Carlos replies.

“I promise the same,” TK reciprocates. “Always.”

Carlos leans in, touching his forehead to TK’s and closes his eyes, taking comfort in the way TK gravitates towards him and his touch. “I’m okay, you’re okay…we’re okay, baby.”

TK closes his eyes as well, and they breathe together, anchoring each other, hearts beating as one.

“So,” TK starts when they separate, intertwining his fingers with Carlos’s. “What’s that story about you trying to walk around to fix the ranch fence with a sprained ankle?”

Carlos chuckles and settles back against TK’s chest, resting his head against his shoulder.

“Well, I was eighteen and I had taken a bad tackle during a football game the day before…”

86 notes · View notes

hageny · 3 years ago

Text

Succession Thoughts: Gerri x Roman

AN: Credit goes to @thinkingfixatingobsessing for the idea for point number one in this post. Also, this post is my lengthiest yet, but I promise it’s worth the read, lol.

1. Come Over?

This moment between Roman and Gerri is a small one, but presents an interesting thread that starts in this episode--Vaulter--and gets threaded into their phone sex scene in Safe Room. During his time working through the documents and foundations of Vaulter, Roman is stuck in the middle of the proxy battle and feeling the heat of the moment, which comes to a head in this scene. We see him wrestling with himself about what to do, throwing his phone a pathetic glance, hesitating, and then finally deciding to call Gerri for help. He divulges to her that he essentially has no clue what to do and throws out a weak ‘pivot to video’ idea that Gerri instantly reminds him was tried by the Vaulter team already and presumably fell flat. Finally, Roman breaks and asks her meekly, “Can you just come over? I want you in the room.” This is interesting because it is one of the first scenes where the show establishes the fact that Roman seeks out Gerri for comfort. This, of course, comes on the heels of their trip to Japan, so we can deduce that Roman has realized that Gerri could’ve screwed him but didn’t, and sees how he was exposed to her nurturing side when he needed it most. What’s interesting is how the dialogue in this scene mimics what comes later. He first asks her for her help, and when she balks at his request, he immediately says, “Yeah, could--yeah--fuck you!” and hangs up on her. The move from gentle and comforting to caustic is an interesting one, but it’s fascinating because for once it isn’t built into the scene to showcase that Roman needs degradation to achieve sexual pleasure. Here, he flies off the handle at Gerri, but when we think about this scene the reason why is obvious and not tied to sex: Roman gets angry because in his one weak moment the response he receives is not the sympathetic one he wants, and so he pivots back to caustic to shield himself later on. He knows that should Gerri brings this up later he can tell her he was fucking with her and didn’t mean it, but in truth, he did mean it--he did want her and need her, and Gerri didn’t understand this, and was too busy with things on her end to meet him where he needed her. Part of Roman’s hang ups, sexually, are tied to the degradation he experienced as a child, but there is also a link between his need for degradation and his realization that he never got the comfort he needed, so seeking insult was easier. He is a walking example of the quote, "All attention is good attention.” Because Roman never received the comfort he desired, he shields himself from rejection by pretending to be hardier than what he is and striving to be insulted, because to him, at this stage, it’s all the same. He could get a hug, but getting walloped and getting off are faster so he settles for that instead. This thread is later carried into the ‘shirt-button’ scene in Hunting, where Gerri walks up to Roman’s room to look in on him. Now, she has the understanding of him that is necessary to respond appropriately, and instead of berating him for being a mess she comforts him, and he responds not by pushing her away but accepting her gentility, however brief. Roman doesn’t so much need humiliation to get off--he only needs it because it’s all he thinks he deserves, and it’s served him well enough so far. It’s the key to his inability to have sex with his other girlfriends: it’s not that he can’t, it’s that sex requires intimacy and sensitivity, and Roman isn’t close enough to himself emotionally to comfortably tap into these feelings and deliver.

2. Rejected.

As I’m re-watching the series in preparation for Season 3, there is a thread which is established early on between Kendall and Gerri that begins in Lifeboats and is expounded upon later in the show. We see Kendall at the helm of Waystar during Logan’s absence as he makes his infamous ‘Lifeboats’ speech, gathering his team together and asking for their help in moving Waystar into the future, inviting them to pool their ideas and deliver them to him, essentially attempting to depart from his father’s style of management by ostensibly establishing an ‘open door policy’ with his team. This move, however, is ironic, as immediately after this scene we have the scene between himself and Gerri, pictured above. Really, in hindsight, Kendall is as manipulative as Logan, but he is weaker in the sense that he is not as combative openly, and therefore comes across as a softer, better version of his father, which isn’t always true to his nature. We see Gerri follow Kendall after the meeting and tell him, “I want to talk options to you, okay? I’ve got some thoughts I’ve been working on for a long time--”. Kendall immediately interrupts her and replies, “I don’t want the sloppy seconds, Gerri. I’m taking five to think big.” When she presses the issue again, promising that she has some good ideas, he flat out rejects her without even listening to her, and it is here where we see shades of his father in himself. It’s also what makes Gerri’s manipulation of Kendall easier later on. We can deduce that this is not the first time that Gerri has been pushed to the sidelines by one of the Roy family members, and at a time when help is sorely needed--and on the heels of Kendall openly asking for it--he outright rejects Gerri’s and essentially makes it clear to her that her help is second-rate help--only useful to him when it can get him out of a tight squeeze, but not so useful that he believes her worth listening to when the stakes are higher. This ties into her relationship with Roman as well. While Roman is always showcased as being the one who needs her, if we pay attention we can clearly see that Gerri’s need for him is equal to his. Gerri has been a part of Waystar for decades--at one point in Pre-Nuptial commenting to Kendall that she and Frank are reminiscing about their first visit to Caroline’s estate in 1986--making her one of the most senior members of staff. But what she has--it is implied--never had is someone who genuinely valued her ideas and her input. This is also what she gets from Roman. She tells him to do something, he does it. She throws an idea out, he listens. He becomes her voice, often using the phrases, “Gerri thinks” or “Gerri says” during Season 2. Through Roman, we hear Gerri, and through Gerri we see Roman’s potential. They carry each other. Roman is always depicted by his family as being stupid, and yet who was smart enough to seek out advice from the one person with the most experience at Waystar aside from Logan? Not his siblings. Because they believe they know better, their ego will be their downfall.

3. In Logan’s Shadow.

In Sad Sack Wasp Trap, we see shades of Gerri’s eventual betrayal of Kendall begin to take shape. Having tasted his first drops of power, real power, Kendall’s ego immediately starts to swell in little ways. We hear him telling Jess that he wants to do a run on the late-night TV circuit, having gotten the idea while traveling in L.A. Gerri reacts to this with disbelief, and Kendall retorts, “What does that mean? I was fuckin’ king of the Lampoon.” Kendall’s use of the word ‘king’ is used to purposefully emphasize the way he has begun to see himself--finally in the position he desired for so long, finally out of his father’s sphere of influence. His high is interrupted by Jess’ telling him that his father has dropped into the office and wants to see him. When Kendall asks Gerri if she knew about this, she denies this, but when he says, “Shouldn’t he have told you?” all she does is shrug coolly in his direction. This begs the question: did Gerri really not know? On the surface, it seems obvious she didn’t, but we have to consider that this moment comes right after Kendall’s complete disregard for her in the previous episode. Gerri’s motivation to help Kendall would be at a fairly low point, and what could be more amusing to her than to watch him fall flat on his face so quickly again, especially considering Logan’s outrage at Kendall’s decision to bring Stewy in to help their debt issue. Maybe she genuinely didn’t know, but given what she does later on, it would seem pertinent to wonder.

4. Take the piss.

Later in Sad Sack Wasp Trap, Kendall finds out that his father has pissed on his carpet and brings Roman, Gerri, and Frank in to assess and discuss the situation. He starts by lecturing them about what could happen if people knew Logan had done this, pointing out that this bit of knowledge could spear the company’s already flagging public persona, and trying to use that as a way to keep his father from attending the RECNY ball. He tries to drop the responsibility for fixing the situation into Gerri’s hands, telling her she needs to talk to Logan and tell him that if he intends to come back he has to do so via the proper avenues, and that he can’t just show up on a whim. Gerri listens for a while, and eventually delivers a barb that is subtle but effective. She asks Kendall, “What did you do, Kendall, when you realized he’d done this?”, referring to Logan’s pissing incident. Kendall immediately falters, stuttering that he didn’t want to embarrass his father in front of Stewy and basically admitting he did nothing. The camera sweeps over her and Roman’s faces, and they give Kendall the same look, suggesting they are disappointed but not surprised at his ineffectiveness. This moment also mirrors what Roman does later in Vaulter, undercutting his brother in front of his father to get the result he wants. The point of Gerri’s remark is to showcase her opinion of him. To Gerri, Kendall is nothing but a papa’s boy with a golden spoon in his mouth, someone who wants the power but is unwilling to work for it. And who can really blame Kendall? Considering the way his father treats him, he has learned from Logan that working is one thing, but using a by-way to get to the top faster is better, and he attempts to see this come to fruition by taking control of a company he is ill-equipped to lead. Gerri’s disgust for Kendall is fairly obvious, but to Kendall’s great misfortune, he is a swimmer in a shark tank, completely out of his league in her waters. She is faster than him, more subtle, more cunning, and lacking in conscience enough that when she disposes of him later she feels no remorse. Kendall has bad traits but he is overall not a bad character, and we see his better parts shine when he is not chasing power. But to Gerri, his better characteristics are a moot point. She undercuts him later once again, and we see how she delights in what she’s doing, how his weakness and trusting nature to her are disgusting, and if anything make it easier for her to do what she does. While Roman makes her prove herself equal, playing with her, seeing if she can give back what he puts out, Kendall takes for granted her abilities, wanting only a menial servant, and sees himself eaten alive.

5. I Will Guide Thy Hand.

During the RECNY ball, we find out--via Connor--the Kendall has plans to make a retirement announcement in Logan’s presence, allegedly so he can usurp the throne for himself. Though Kendall later denies this, we do know that he does not want his father to speak at the ball. Allegedly, this is out of ‘good will’, his concern for his father and the company mainly influencing his decision, but truthfully Kendall is also motivated by a desire to take hold of a position his father always had at the ball--as a speaker--and be on the receiving end of the adoration Logan is so used to. He wants to be seen by the public the way his father is: competent, powerful, totally in control; he also knows that there is a chance that Logan will declare himself CEO again, knocking Kendall from his throne--which eventually comes to fruition. Gerri knows this, is smart enough to intuit why Kendall is afraid, and is calm when Kendall once again comes to her for assistance, wanting her to handle his father. Unlike earlier, she doesn’t throw any barbs his way. She calmly promises to talk to Logan about his supposed speech and to try to dissuade him--while not so convincingly claiming she knew nothing about the speech at all to begin with. Instead of doing what she promised, she walks over to Logan and simply tells him, “Good luck tonight. Gonna knock it out of the park.” She gives him the motivation he needs to move forward with his plans, especially at a point where his health is so precarious. Gerri knows this, knows Logan well enough to understand that a little reassurance will ensure that Logan will do as planned and follow through with his decision. We see her later in the episode watching the whole thing play out during Logan’s speech, a self-satisfied smirk on her face, already knowing the end from the beginning. What we’re witnessing is the blooming of the flower on the end of the thread that started when Kendall disrespected her in Lifeboats. All he had to do to save himself was listen to Gerri, and yet he chose not to, believing he knew better than her how to reposition Waystar and lead the company into the future. He, who has been to rehab, fallen prey to his addictions and vices, and only played in the big leagues when he wanted to while Gerri--and the other members of Waystar--had to be there regardless of the circumstances in their personal lives. Again we can’t solely blame Kendall--he is the person his father has allowed him to be. We can also see that what Kendall lacks is the thing that makes Gerri so capable of remaining in power--detachment. Gerri is emotionally detached enough to do her job well and not worry about what amoral things she does to maintain her position of power. This is another trait she shares with Roman, who, after hearing how beleaguered the employees of Vaulter are, still guts the company and costs them their jobs without a second thought to the damage he is doing. With regard to her relationship with Kendall, for Gerri destroying him is not only easy but pleasurable. She knows that Kendall stupidly trusts her, and will remain none the wiser to her duplicitousness, and so she operates in the background, doing what she can to ensure he will lose what is so precious to him because of her--all while believing she did what she could to help him. This theme reminded me of the movie The Witch, hence the title of this particular post. Thomasin ends up in the hands of the Devil at the end, and--believing he will give her what she wants--she gives her soul to him. Like Kendall, she doesn’t realize that the person who is giving her what she wants is really taking everything, and she, like Kendall, is left with nothing in the end. Am I comparing Gerri to the Devil? Only superficially. She is certainly not totally like Satan, but from what we see here, she has the ability to operate like him: swiftly and maliciously.

#gerri/roman #gerri x roman #gerri kellman #roman roy #succession #succession hbo #hbo succession #succession thoughts

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timerainseternal · 4 years ago

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It has occurred to me that Five’s life is basically one big stream of failed successes, which is very interesting since he’s a very competent character overall. We know he is extremely good at physical tasks (best assassin in the timeline and has the ability to manipulate space, yeah I think he has it covered), mental tasks (solved time travel with equations on his own, can consistently come up with pretty solid, if risky, back-up plans), and is resourceful and able to improvise. Sure, his social skills are pretty bad, but he even improves on that in season 2 with his attempts to bring his siblings together instead of being almost solely independent like season 1. This isn’t to call him perfect (he really isn’t) or anything like that, but just to point out that rightfully, he should be more successful in the show than he is. I know his failure is mostly because the writers can’t have him actually succeed, since his goal is basically to stop the conflict in the show, but I’m pretty sure he thinks the universe hates him a whole lot (and it does!).

To emphasize how constant this is, I’ve gone overboard and made a timeline of Five’s major goals, and how they failed. I’ve counted most of them as failed successes, in that he technically did complete his goal, but not in a way that mattered to his actual goal, or in a way that created new problems to solve. Below a read more, since I am incapable of being concise.

Time Travel:

The first, and biggest, failed success. He did succeed at time travelling! He just was unable to go back and got stuck in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Confirmed failed success.

Time Travel Back:

Well, it took him forty-five years and he accepted a deal to become a time-travelling assassin, which wasn’t getting out on his own steam. Despite that, it didn’t take him that long to finish his equations while at the Commission, so presumably he was pretty close to getting it at that point. Also, even though he was technically time travelling forwards from 1963, he was able to get all his siblings back in time like a week later without time to work on his equations between, so he probably would have been able to get back. In short, he did get back (though only to 2019 and not 2002, so he didn’t ever get back to when he left), but became an assassin, and also physically thirteen, in the process: failed success.

Prevent the Apocalypse:

This is a big one so I will break it down into steps as well, but it is also a failed success as a whole since he did not, in fact, stop the apocalypse (or he stopped the original one but caused a different one in the process, depending on your point of view), but he did protect his siblings and himself from it as well as give themselves another chance to fix it. Failed success.

Get Information on the Eye:

Did eventually get the information from MeriTech, which told him nothing about who the eye belonged to. Failed success.

Get Information from the Commission:

Found out who they were protecting, did decent damage to the Commission HQ, and managed to hunt Harold down. Success! But Harold was already dead when he found him and had already set the apocalypse in motion, and the Commission was only temporarily damaged and it gave Five a shrapnel wound. He was also lulled into a false sense of security by the apparent end of the apocalypse. Failed success.

Mental Healing:

Goes to put back Dolores, finally able to let go of her as a coping mechanism and realizing he can find other avenues of self-exploration and development. Wonderful, Five, I’m very proud! His absence from the Vanya situation keeps her trapped (since presumably he would have jumped her out of there?), leading to the apocalypse that is the root of most of his trauma. Whoops. A very failed success, and a very sad one too.

Stop Vanya from Ending the World:

Well, he doesn’t actually really help that much here? He agrees to kill Vanya but doesn’t succeed. This one is mostly on Allison. As a group, though, they succeed in not making her set off a sonic boom or whatever it would have been, but they do blow up the moon, so. This one is just a failure.

Escape the Apocalypse:

As mentioned, Five does manage to get them all out of the apocalypse safely and without bodily changes! He did scatter them across the sixties and landed himself in another apocalypse immediately, so: failed success.

Gather Siblings:

It's like herding cats. Luther says no, Diego breaks out of the asylum, everyone has a love life all of a sudden, etc. This becomes an ongoing goal, and one that has varying levels of success at different points. Success level: oscillating.

Find Reginald:

Well, they do find him. He also stabs Diego and Pogo scratches Five :(. Then they go to the gala, get attacked by the Swedes, but they do get Reginald’s attention which leads him to invite them to a light supper. This one is a successful fail, since they basically get Reginald to find them at a time and place of his choosing.

Get Advice from Reginald:

Well, this meeting leads to everyone getting un-adopted, and the advice Five gets isn’t helpful to his immediate dilemma. He also has to see Reginald again :(. However, the advice is useful later, so: failed success.

Make a Deal with the Handler:

It does technically succeed, this one, in that he is extremely good at murdering the Board, and the Handler does give him a briefcase. It does have a time limit because the Handler is awful, but presuming that it actually did what she said, and if the siblings had all shown up, it would have been a full success! In practice, however, given the actual results: failed success.

Gather Siblings (Speed Round):

He gets 3 (2.5, sorry Ben) of them, so fully half! Only half, though. And the others had planned to come (sometimes with others, you naughty rulebreaker, Vanya), but got attacked/kidnapped/knocked out. So, getting half is kind of successful, but in this case it was all or nothing, so it’s a straight failure.

Get Briefcase from Past Self:

He doesn’t murder himself, so that’s a kind of success! It’s the only one, though, since even though he told other-Five the right equation that doesn’t actually help him any, since he remains thirteen and without a briefcase. He also gets to kick Luther square in the nuts, which is a success of sorts. Still a failure, though, especially because as he deals with that, Vanya’s preparing to end the world accidentally again and he doesn’t even know about that.

Go With Vanya:

Admittedly, it seems like he kind of doesn’t have another goal at this point, but that’s okay, since the apocalypse of ‘63 has been prevented and this is finally granting full success to the goal of Gather Siblings! However, since he is being framed for the murder of the Board (well, I say framed. He did actually do it), the Handler can use that to justify all of the Commission agents showing up, and can use this opportunity to kill the whole Academy and get Harlan too. I mean, she totally would have done the same thing whether or not he killed the Board, but it’s a nice excuse, and Lila also hates Five. In any case, though he has technically completed the goal of going with Vanya and supporting her, now they have to fight a whole lotta people. Failed success, I guess.

Protect His Siblings:

This, really, is the only actual goal he has in the show, and everything else is the steps to get there. And he fails the first time around! Traumatic! Luckily he was able to turn back time in a feat of badassery, and turn the biggest failure--a situation where he watches his siblings die and cannot save them and will never be able to save them and they’re dead forever--into his biggest success--discovering a new and very useful power, saving them all from death, ending remaining threats [the Handler and the Swede, (though the Swede is technically the one to actually kill the Handler, Five did thwart her plan and semi-directly led to her death, and I think he deserves to be the one who killed her, so there)], making a truce with the Commission, and getting them a way back to an apocalypse-free timeline. Failure followed by success.

Go Back to 2019

They did go back to 2019, just not their 2019. They’ve been un-adopted and the Sparrows exist, but there doesn’t seem to be an apocalypse in sight. Failed success.

Basically what I’m saying here is that despite being one of the most focused, consistent, and results-driven characters on the show, he rarely truly, fully succeeds. The real message here is that Five needs a win, a break, something. I hope in season 3 he gets it, or at the very least gets the chance to go absolutely wild. He deserves it.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua meta #five hargreeves #he deserves better #absolutely nothing really works out for him #also before this he was a child soldier #which he seemed to be good at but can we really call being good at being a child soldier a success?#i dont think so #to be fair the other siblings don't get that much success either #i think their counts might be a little higher than Five's #they just also get a little bit longer to process things than Five does #and also their goals aren't quite as cataclysmic when they fail #(except for Vanya #but I don't think the apocalypse was ever necessarily a goal per se #but more of a byproduct)

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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Paths, Avenues, and Secret Tunnels // S.B. (celebration fic)

Request: 6 & 13 from the fluff section with sirius black at hogwarts (location). 💛 - anon

Fluff 6: “Are you... Are you flirting with me?”

Fluff 13: “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls.”

A/N: Here’s your request! I hope you like! This one got away from me if I'm honest but I struggled with it so much in the beginning that I'm happy I found my flow. I don’t think I’ll be posting a fic tomorrow, I’m not sure yet, I have a ridiculously busy day so who knows! However, as always, I hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of an attempted harassment, swearing, self-defence, shitty parents, BUT THIS IS FLUFF, I PROMISE (there’s even a make out scene for you all)

Word count: 3.3k

Most weekends at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry could usually be spent in the neighbouring, picturesque village of Hogsmeade. Students, in their droves, descended upon the wizarding village – all ready to spent their knuts, sickles and galleons on whatever took their fancy in the array of shops that neatly lined the small high street.

For many of the students in Third Year and above, they relished the chance to spend a whole day outside of Hogwarts. You would have liked to have gone with them, but in a fit of anger your mother and father flat out refused to sign the yearly permission slip meaning that your visits to the small, sleepy village had been put to a stop.

You maintained fiercely that their punishment was unjustified. Your use of magic outside of school was perfectly reasonable considering that the man they had tried to set their daughter up with for an arranged marriage was nothing short of a creep that had to be put in his place.

Your reaction to the unsolicited attention of the repulsive man caused nothing smaller than a war between your parents and yourself. They felt humiliated that you should act such a way in front of a respectable, eligible gentleman who had taken the time out of his busy schedule to come to dinner and meet with you. You felt nothing short of fury at your parents for thinking you would ever go along with archaic traditions that should have died long ago.

It led to your parents taking the one thing that you looked forward to every school year away from you. In front of you, they tore apart the permission slip and threw it onto the fire where you watched as it turned to grey ash.

Your weekends were now spent either in the common room or the library; working on your homework, studying for an exam or simply reading to pass the time. By the fourth Hogsmeade weekend of the year, you had explored the castle enough to attract Filch’s unwanted attention, so you decided to reign in your exploits to the parts of the castle you knew were safest.

The common room had quickly become your safe haven after the third time you were questioned by Filch. Both the morning and afternoon of any Hogsmeade weekend spent reading over any work and napping periodically by the fire.

Stretching out on the couch, you finish reading over your notes from Potions, making a mental note to ask Slughorn whether you could borrow his classroom next weekend to test a theory that had come to you only a few moments ago. Another Hogsmeade weekend and you had made doubly sure to keep yourself occupied through it all – happy to see your friends off; already sick of their pitying looks.

“(Y/L/N)!” Sirius shouts; jumping the back of the couch and settling next to you.

“Sirius, how can I help?” You ask with a smile; turning to face the teenager you’ve known since the two of you were in nappies.

“I can’t help but notice that you haven’t been seen in Hogsmeade for a while now. One can’t help but wonder…”

You laugh, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to ask me considering our parents are like this,” You cross your fingers together; indicating just how close the two families were – Sirius’ mother visiting yours for tea at least three times a week.

“What happened?”

You sigh, clutching your book to your chest, “My parents cruel and unusual form of punishment.”

“What?”

You smile at the memory, “I jinxed the guy they were trying to marry me off to, so they tore up the permission slip in front of me and threw it onto the fire in a fit of dramatics.”

“Why did you jinx him?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“What did he do?” Sirius asks; voice low and lethal.

You sigh, “His hands tried to wander under the dining table. They didn’t get very bloody far before he was met with the finger removing jinx,” You huff proudly, “See how far he gets without the counter-jinx, the prat.”

“But you’re okay? You weren’t hurt?”

You shake your head; smiling at the care in Sirius’ voice. “I’m fine, I promise,” You reassure, “However, my parents thought it fitting to tear up my permission slip to Hogsmeade hence why I stay in the castle every weekend.”

Something in Sirius’ chest loosens at your words; happy to know that you’re okay and that you gave the creep what he deserved but he frowns at your parents response. “Did you explain to your parents what he tried to do?”

You fix him with a look that tells him of course you did, “They refused to listen; not someone like him,” Your voice takes on a higher pitch as you mimic your mother, “He’s such a responsible man from a wonderful family – I don’t know how you could do this to him.”

Sirius snorts at your impression; noting how accurate it is. “I’m sorry,” He murmurs.

You wave his apology with a swift movement of your hand, “I’ve gotten used to it now. You wouldn’t believe how on top of homework I am.”

He laughs, “Still, all the same.”

“I know,” You whisper.

Sirius pats your knee; he gestures towards the door with his head where his friends had walked through only a moment ago, “I better…”

You nod, “Of course. Go! Go – have a nice time.”

Sirius throws a small smile your way before he leaves the common room.

For the first time in the five weekends you had been unable to visit the humble village; you had never hated your parents more.

-------

Sirius Black continues to play on your mind in a way he hasn’t done since your crush on him in Second Year when you were smaller and more naïve. The friendship between you was a lifelong one; families being so close that there was no other option but to get along as your mothers would drink tea and gossip and your fathers would conduct business in offices away from prying eyes and ears.

Your feelings for the elder Black sibling became news to you when you were turning ten years old. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to hold his hand longer and to hug him whenever instead of in greeting or in farewell – innocent daydreams of a child.

Nothing like the daydreams you now found yourself occupied with whenever you happened to find yourself staring at his mouth that little bit too long or when you zoned in on how his hands would run through his long hair and thought about what it would feel like between your fingers.

Your feelings for Sirius Black came surging back; knocking you breathless and leaving you feeling half way mad. He seemed to take over your mind; thinking of him constantly and not all the thoughts completely innocent. From a simple smile in your direction, he had you feeling like a fool in love. From the smallest piece of attention he could give you, he had your heart in your throat.

Soon enough, you were admitting to yourself that your crush from Second Year had returned stronger than before and that there was no doubt about it. You were arse over tea kettle in love with Sirius Black.

He starts to spend his Hogsmeade weekends with you. Starting slowly; leaving the Marauders every now and then before eventually stopping joining them altogether. They all share a similar look one Saturday when instead of joining them at the door to the common room, Sirius joins you in your familiar spot on the couch.

Sirius waves to James, Remus and Peter as they depart for Hogsmeade; each of them shouting promises of bringing back sweets from Honeyduke’s as well as a surprise from Zonko’s. Sirius shakes his head at his friends before turning his full attention to you.

You smile softly at the disowned heir to the Black family fortune; repressing the growing urge to run your fingers through his hair, to kiss him senseless – to do anything with him really.

“What are the plans for today then?”

You roll your eyes, “You don’t have to do this Sirius, you can go be with your friends.”

Sirius waves his hand in a dismissive fashion, tutting, “I see them all the time. I live with them remember?” He shakes his head, “I like spending time with you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your smile at bay, “I was thinking of finishing the book I’ve been reading.”

Sirius throws his head back with an overdramatic groan, “We did that last time!”

“And I’ve started a new book since then!” You sigh, “Like I said, Sirius, you don’t need to stay with me.”

“I want to spend time with you, but we don’t need to spend all our time here,” He says, gesturing to the dark red walls of the common room.

“I’m not bothered here. Every time I left the common room, Filch would always bother me.”

Sirius frowns, “Well we’re going out today,” He pats your leg, standing up, “Come on. Up you get, we’re off on a walk.”

“A walk?”

“A walk. An amble. A dawdle. That thing you do with your legs. Whatever you prefer to call it.”

You snort, “I know what a walk is, Sirius.”

“Then why ask?”

“Don’t make me regret coming with you.”

He grins at you, “Never, my dear.”

Sirius holds an arm out to you which you take; hooking your elbow through his. He sets off at a slow pace; holding the door to the common room open for you like the gentleman he was raised to be before leading you down the corridors.

With most students in Hogsmeade and the First and Second years occupied with a Quidditch training camp being run by the Holyhead Harpies, the corridors of the school are relatively quiet as you and Sirius continue your walk through the school that’s more of a second home rather than a place of education.

“Are your parents still angry?” Sirius asks out of the blue.

“I couldn’t care less though; it was self-defence and I’m happier for it. but you know them; there never was a couple who could hold a grudge like dear old mum and dad.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I reckon I could beat you.”

“How have you been since that night?”

Sirius looks off into the distance; mind immediately returning to the night he had walked out on his family, on Regulus. He had told you about when the school year had restarted after the Easter break.

“Good,” He eventually says, “I’m living with James’ family now. I’ve always been welcome at the Potters.”

You nod; happiness washing over you, “I’m glad you’ve found somewhere, I was worried when you sent me the one letter.”

“I wanted to send more,” He says, voice pained, “But I didn’t know if your parents would be nosy.”

“You were right not to,” You sigh, “Since they heard about our friendship rekindling, they keep looking at me as if I’m going to run any moment.”

“Would you?”

“Would I run away?”

He nods; pausing in his steps. You stop alongside him; thinking over your answer, “It depends. If I have to sit through another arranged dinner and possible marriage, then happily. If my parents suddenly see reason, then perhaps our relationship could improve.”

“How long have they been trying to marry you off?”

“Since I turned seventeen so just over a year since my birthday is one of the first of the year.”

Sirius chuckles humourlessly, “I’m glad I got out when I could.”

You nudge his shoulder, “All it means is that your life has taken a different path, Sirius. But I know whatever you decide to do, it will be the right path. It’s you walking it after all; it can’t be bad if you’re the one walking it.”

Sirius doesn’t reply to your words. He’s too overcome by your words to even think of replying. Out of the fallout from his family, the one thing he was concerned about was how it would affect your relationship with you but when he saw you after Easter and all you did was pull him into a tight hug, he knew that everything would be okay and that you would be going nowhere.

He doesn’t need to say the words out loud to accept them; he knows that he has fallen in love with you. Sirius realises with a jolt that he has most likely always loved you; only coming to the realisation since spending more and more time with you over your parental imposed school grounding.

Sirius doesn’t know what path his life is going to take; he has the Marauders and he knows he has them for life – very little coming between them to split them permanently. But through it all; through all of his late night worrying and upset, Sirius hopes and hopes that your life starts to wander down the same path as his.

By this time, you’ve circled the courtyard, ready to make your way to Hagrid’s Hut and beyond. Both happy enough to now spend the rest of your day dawdling around the castle; talking everything and nothing – simply spending the time with each other. The feelings that are harboured by the both of you simmer in the small space between your bodies; spoken yet unspoken.

The conversation from earlier, and the tension, has dissipated leaving behind a light, fun atmosphere that lets you see the best of Sirius. As a result, he has your heart thumping in your throat to the point where your pulse sounds in your ears.

It’s when he makes one comment about your closeness as children that has a particularly flirty tone and meaning that has your back straightening in realisation, “Are you… Are you flirting with me?”

“I might be…” Sirius comments with a smile.

“Not even you could be so cruel, Sirius, to bring up a childhood crush like that and play with my emotions.”

“What childhood crush?”

“Tell me you knew?”

At the blank expression on his face and the curiosity alive in his eyes, you let out a laugh, “I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids… even when we started Hogwarts I had a crush on you! You had to know, surely?”

He shakes his head vigorously, “I had no idea about it.”

“Oh…” You trail off.

“It was reciprocated if you were wondering.”

You sit up straighter, “It was?”

Sirius blushes; pushing his hair back from his face, “It was.”

Silence falls between the two of you. You’ve both stopped walking; steps paused in the middle of the corridor – hardly any sound around you other than the occasional hoot of an owl and a laugh from a young student. For what feels like forever, you simply stare at each other.

Your stomach turns with anticipation; readying yourself for the question you’re about to ask. Taking a deep breath, you break the silence with a single question, “And what about now?”

“Now?”

You nod, “Are those feelings reciprocated now?”

“They might be…”

“They might be, or they are?” You ask breathlessly; his words setting aflame the hope in your heart.

“They are. They really are.”

“Thank Merlin,” you gasp before pulling Sirius into a kiss by the hem of his t-shirt.

He responds immediately; taking control of the kiss as his lips glide against yours seamlessly. There could no arranged marriage, no relationship you could ever have that could compare to this one moment. In this one instant, all is defined, and you know that at almost eighteen, Sirius Black was to be the one for you.

A hand runs through his hair as the other anchors itself in his t-shirt; finally getting to feel his hair after so long craving it. With a slight tug of his dark locks, you smile against his mouth at the groan you elicit from the back of his throat. You file that piece of information away for later when it can be explored thoroughly. Entirely wrapped up in him, you give yourself over to him, letting his familiar scent of cloves and sweet orange wash over you.

Breaking the kiss, Sirius rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath and letting the contentment wash over him. He places kisses over your face – your nose, your cheeks, your forehead before finally pecking your lips in an open mouthed kiss.

You beam up at him; happy to have this moment with him in a quiet school where you won’t be interrupted by students, teachers, or ghosts alike.

With a wide grin, Sirius drops his hold of your waist to take hold of your hand and begins to lead you back through the corridors and to the moving staircases. Laughing, you match his pace as you run up the stairs, taking extra care for those that start to shift.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask with a loud giggle.

“It’s a secret,” Sirius says; turning quickly to face you. He places a finger to his lips in a hush. Then and there, you have to resist pulling him into another kiss from the look on his face; the utter delight spread over it combined with the intense mischief and elation alight in his eyes has your heart beating even faster.

Saying no more, you continue on your journey, letting Sirius guide you every step of the way. Arriving on the Third Floor, Sirius turns left, pulling you towards the statue at the end of the corridor. The statue of the One-Eyed Witch had always left you feeling uneasy; as if she was watching you with her one remaining eye – it seemed to follow you wherever you stepped.

Sirius stops in front of the statue; staring up at her for a moment before fixing his gaze on you. His hand comes up to brush your cheek, “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls. However, I know that your reaction to what I’m about to show you will even pale the brightest galaxy.”

You duck your head; uncertain of what to reply, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer emotion in his voice. Sirius tips your chin back up with a single finger, “Fancy going to Hogsmeade?”

You shake your head, “Sirius, I can’t. My parents, remember?”

“I remember just fine. Still, fancy going to Hogsmeade?”

“How?”

Sirius points to the statue of the one-eyed witch, “Through there.”

“Sirius, I love you but that’s a statue.”

He smirks, “It’s good to know you love me, but I need you to say the magic word.”

“And what’s that?”

Leaning close to your ear; so close that his breath is warm across your face, he whispers a single word. You find it hard to concentrate with him so close; his front pressed to your side. His lips brush against your ear and you let yourself arch into his touch as you try to focus on the word being whispered.

“Got it?”

Nodding your head, you step towards the statue. Your hand still wrapped in Sirius’, you whisper, “Dissendium,” Your voice barely louder than a breath.

You take a hasty step back when the hump to the witch opens, revealing a small slide leading into nothing but darkness. You turn to Sirius in awe; a large smile on your face, “How did you?”

Sirius simply shrugs, “I have my way, love. Now, Hogsmeade?”

Tightening your grip on his hand; tugging him into a long kiss, you can barely contain your elation with the teenager now pressing against you. Breaking the kiss but remaining close enough that your lips brush his as you whisper, “I’d go with you anywhere.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual

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five-miles-over · 4 years ago

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Heyyyy I saw you take requests for Willie, I'm so happy!!! we really lack fics with him. Could you please write an imagine (or HC ) about Willie needing comfort, he feels lonely, perhaps rejected and judged by most people around him and reader comfort him pretty please? can be pure fluff or end nsfw. Thank you so much and I really love your writing <3

Hi, @darknessisafriend ! Thank you so much for your request and your compliments (and thank you for your patience as well). I’m starting to enjoy writing for Willie, and I’d love to do it more often. Hope you like this fic, my friend :)

The Light Blinking at the End of the Tunnel

Pairing: Willie Gutierrez x Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, references to the film The Yards.

"I suppose you want to ask me why I killed him,"

You lowered your eyes while Willie took a large bite of a pizza slice, chewing slowly and glaring. Almost as if he dared you to say something back to him, knowing fully well that you weren't expecting him to get so defensive all of a sudden. The surprise was clear in your body language - the shortness of your breath, the partition of your lips, and the way your eyebrows curved - that you'd never even thought about how dangerous his past could possibly be.

———————————————————————————————————

Ever since the blackout a few months ago, when you'd accidentally knocked on Willie's door to borrow some candles, he had become your closest confidante, possibly your only ally in your new neighborhood situated the shady heart of the Bronx.

The two of you bumped into each other again in the hallway another morning after that fateful night. That time, you exchanged phone numbers and promised again to hang out sometime. At the time, you told yourself that he was just saying those things to be nice to you, that he couldn't really be serious about spending more time with you.

Much to your surprise, Willie showed up at your door the next Friday with a bottle of your favorite liquor - the one he saw you drinking when he came over to your place during the blackout - and a pack of beer for himself. From the scent of his breath, you could already tell that he'd already had a drink or two before coming over, but who cared? You had to give him points for the liquid courage.

After to let him inside, you and Willie spent the entire night talking, ranting about your horrible jobs, and laughing at the world. And soon enough, it became a tradition for you to spend Friday nights together. Even thought Willie eventually gained the zeal to go clubbing and try new places with strangers around town, you both had an implicit agreement to keep Friday nights reserved for each other.

And so today, like any other Friday night, you came over to his place carrying a box of pizza and some garlic bread with dipping sauces. That was always the arrangement between the two of you. Since you didn't have much to spend, one of you would always bring the food while the other brought the alcohol. It didn't matter who was hosting.

"Come on in." He joyfully opened the door, saying your name as if it were one of his favorite words or the way that a game show host would announce the winner. Willie hugged you tight, trying not to damage the food, humming contentedly. "Rough week?"

You nodded, entering his apartment. You had just begun telling him about your dreary week at the office when someone knocked at Willie's door. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He quickly told you before answering.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Willie and a man of almost equal height talking about something important. The smile that greeted you disappeared faster than the man could state the words 'New York Police Department', and Willie's eyebrows seemed to furrow with each word the man said after that.The man continued to inform Willie of something in a hushed tone, and curtly left when he was done.

"Who was that?" You asked absent-mindedly, turning to face Willie after he closed the door.

"No one. Could you maybe keep the fries on the table over there?"

You raised you eyebrow, wondering if he might've been referring to the garlic bread instead. "Willie…I didn't order any fries."

"Well maybe you should have!" Willie yelled.

Startled by his sudden raise in voice, you swallowed and went back to unboxing the food. "If you want fries, I'll go over to the place in Erben Avenue."

"No, it's too late. Just…forget this fucking thing ever happened."

Not wanting to push the matter any further, you put the food out as normal and began to help yourself. And Willie brought out the liquor he'd promised to get for the both of you. As the sun began to set, you tried to make small talk with him, asking about his week and whether his bathroom sink finally stopped leaking.

He answered you with short, almost one-word answers. You didn't have to be a psychic to realize that he was still thinking about what happened earlier with the man. Normally, you would've tried your best to brush the whole thing off, but it was alarming to see your typically-enthusiastic, extroverted friend talk in short sentences. It had gone so far that Willie was barely looking you in the eye, almost as if he were speaking to the pizza instead of you.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you again. Who the hell was that guy?" You inquired with a hint of exasperation, "Because he seemed to take your tongue with him."

"You saw his uniform." He snapped back. "He was a policeman."

"What was he doing here?"

"That's none of your business. It's my apartment, and I can have whomever the fuck I want."

"Right." You sarcastically retorted, "Because it's your apartment, you just decided to invite a policeman over."

With a scoff, Willie took a large bite of pizza. "It's my parole officer." He muttered begrudgingly through a mouthful of dough and sauce. "That's not a damn policeman."

"You have a parole officer…" You did your best not to gasp loudly. Having a parole officer usually meant that a someone had a criminal record, possibly a heavy one.

"Yeah. Did some time years ago." Willie tried to remain casual as he confessed to you.

"What did you do…if I may ask?"

"Murder." He bit into his slice again, taking his time chewing and swallowing before speaking. "I suppose you want to ask me why I killed him,"

It was definitely tempting to try and get more information out of him. Whom did he kill? Was it family, was it a friend, was it a stranger? Could it be…could it be a former neighbor, one who lived in the place you live now?

Instead, you took a cue from his downcast, green eyes and his unprecedented silence. With a deep breath, you quietly responded to his statement. "No…I actually don't want to know why."

Taking it as a sign you were pretty much done with him, Willie finished his pizza slice and stood up to open the door for you. When you asked him what he was doing, he told you that nobody like you should be in the same room as a murderer. That you were a decent person with a bright future ahead of you, deserving of much better than a convict for company.

You stood your ground and protested, saying that you weren't going to leave. Willie continued to persuade you to leave, saying that leaving him would be the best thing for you. And you still refused.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He punched the crumbling wall and cursed your name while a little blood trickled from his knuckles. "I just fucking told you that I'm a murderer…and you still can't take a fucking hint?!"

"Because you're my friend!" Slamming Willie's door, it was your turn to yell now. "You're my friend…"

He blinked in disbelief at your declaration, completely taken aback by this turn of events. "You see?!" Willie repeated, addressing your name. "You see your problem?! You see too much good. You fucking still see good, and that's why you've got to go. You've got to go before you get hurt."

"Willie…"

Telling you to shut up, Willie turned away from you. With his back facing the door, he ran a hand through his thick, jet-black hair and muttered under his breath that he killed a rail yard master with a pocketknife and his girlfriend with brute force. The second case was a complete accident, but it left him completely alone.

"After she died, her stepfather - my boss - cut me off." His eyes began to sting with tears as he slumped onto the couch. "None of his guys offered to bail me out or vouch for me…I got out on parole after five years because I was good. I was good to the guards and all, not causing trouble or shit like the others. But…nobody 'xcept for my high school friend offered to get in touch with me or talk to me. I was pretty much alone, and thrown out here."

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, sitting carefully near him. "Thanks for sharing with me, Willie," you whispered. "I…it really means a lot to me."

"I could hurt you too."

"Yeah…but you haven't." And it was the truth. Since you'd met him, Willie had been nothing but warm and loyal to you. Outside of your usual Friday night hang-outs, he always said 'hi' whenever you passed by in the hallway, he offered to plunge your toilet when there was water trouble, and even taught you to haggle with the electricians when they tried to charge you too much to fix a bad outlet. He was like your 'knight in shining armor', always trying to help you and expecting nothing in return.

Sometimes, you even thought about asking him out on a date, maybe to see if something more could happen between the two of you. The only reason you hesitated for months to make a move was because of how good-looking and charming he seemed. There was no way that a guy like him could be available. None of the cute guys usually were.

"There's good in you, Willie. I've seen it for myself," You confided, rubbing circles on his back. "You told me yourself that it was good behavior that got you out of prison after five years. And I'm sure lots of others will see how good you are on the inside, just like I do."

"You don't have to be nice to me." He sniffed, giving you a tired glance.

"No, I don't,"You admitted. "But I want to be nice to you. Because you're nice to me." Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around Willie and inhaled the scent of fabric softener from his shirt. In return, he held your arms and accepted your hug.

"You're seriously the best thing in this goddamn place." Willie muttered with a sigh.

"You too, Willie." The two of you remained silent before he offered to let you spend the night, and maybe watch a movie after dinner was over.

"Fine," you agreed, promising to leave early so as not to give him trouble in the morning.

The truth was, after seeing how calm and accepting you were about his past, Willie wouldn't have minded you staying over until noon the next day...maybe even inviting you to have dinner with him again, somewhere nicer where the two of you could treat yourselves.

But all that was a bit far ahead. Right now, all Willie wanted was to enjoy the fact that there really was a light blinking at the end of the long, dark tunnel…and that he could see it sitting next to him on the couch.

#joaquin phoenix #the yards 2000 #willie gutierrez #willie x reader #willie gutierrez x reader #the yards #Joaquin Phoenix movies

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cluelessgurl · 4 years ago

Text

This was requested by the kind @just-my-weirdness-and-i . Hope you like it ! <3

Every way

Pairing- Anakin Skywalker X Female reader Modern AU

Summary- You and Anakin are on your honeymoon, and your previous hen night left some unexpected surprises for the both of you.

Warnings- Slight mentions of some intimate acts, mentions of alcohol (All consensual) :)

Words- 1.5 K

All that needs to be said about your’s and Anakin’s last night of ‘freedom’ is that it was wild. Ahsoka and your friends could not recollect the last part of the night, and Anakin and Obi-Wan seemed far too happy on their arrival home.

After your wedding, which was everything you had ever imagined, you were certain you loved him with every fibre in your body and Anakin knew he’d never live without you. Anakin loved pleasing you, in every way he could, from the way he made you smile, the way he spoke through his low but comforting voice,the way he held you at your weakest moments, the way he proclaimed his love for you like he wasn’t afraid of the world. It all made you feel free, it made you feel deep in love.You and Anakin had been contemplating your lover’s getaway for a long time now, he couldn’t decide as he always wanted what was in your best interest. So, you took it upon yourself to decide for the both of you, Obi-Wan suggested a secluded place away from the hustle and bustle of the city, which interested you. This is how you came to the conclusion that you would retreat to the Maldives.

‘I don’t understand why you don’t like sand Anakin, it’s just sand’ you chuckled ‘Because it’s coarse , rough, irritating and it gets everywhere’ he complained ‘Come on! It will be so much fun and you’ll have me by side, you won’t even notice’ ‘Fine whatever the lady asks for, she gets’ he spoke smiling through his words, ‘You have no idea how much I love you’ ‘Oh no princess, you have no idea what depths I’d go to for you’ Anakin smiled and held you in a warm embrace, holding the back of your head, you lived for his hugs.

The flight there was far too long for your liking, but Anakin seemed content sleeping on your shoulder throughout, watching his favourite movie you’d both watched a thousand times, you kept yourself busy with your nose in a book. Finally, you made it to your hotel in the evening, this hotel was special, it was situated just above the water, barely missing the sand, much to Anakin’s liking. ‘I told you, it won't be so bad Ani’ ‘I never doubted you darling, although let’s go get some dinner before you become a little frustrated let’s just say’ he suggested mischievously ‘You mean before you start to get cranky Ani, it’s never me’ you argued playfully ‘ If you say so’ he smirked whilst he stroked your back, sending gentle shivers down your back. He knew the exact effect he had on your body and mind, he loved the fact that you would still react the same way to his touch, much like the first time he had done so, he loved you with his whole heart, and he knew you felt the same, the wide smile adorned on your face, his wife’s face told him that clearly. ‘Now go ahead, get dressed, I love watching you get ready’ your heart never failed to skip a beat when he spoke to you so comfortingly, it made your insecure mind quieten ‘Alright, as you wish’ you replied as his toothy grin made you chuckle.

Ahsoka had made sure you had taken a ‘risky’ dress as she liked to put it, it was blue, Anakin’s favourite colour, and your body felt comfortable but sultry in it. After you changed,you walked out of the bathroom only to see Anakin in his classic black suit, he looked dashing, almost as good as he did at your wedding.However, he seemed to be fiddling with his tie ‘Ani, let me help you with that darling’ you spoke softly and walked up to him as his eyes locked onto you form. Oh god, she is mesmerising, look at her, she is literally glowing, her beauty is beyond anything I have ever laid my eyes on and she happens to be my wife, I am the luckiest man alive. That dress looks so good on her, hugging her in every right way, all the dips and -Oh she’s fixing my tie, the view from up here is far more tempting than Obi- Wan on the morning of the wedding, scolding me for not being able to do such a ‘simple’ task. All these thoughts, you standing below him, was telling him no, ordering him to take that dress off and caress you in every right way, to worship you. ‘All done, let’s go now I think I am starting to get frustrated, and we're going to miss our reservations if we don’t hurry’ you spoke as you broke his train of thought,Anakin was starting to get frustrated too, just in a different way but he had to compose himself ‘Of course angel, we wouldn’t want that now would we’ ‘No, absolutely not’ you spoke through your red painted lips as you linked your arm into his, Anakin would have to shake his thoughts off as you both set off.

Dinner was exquisite, you and Anakin had the greatest time, chatting and reminiscing about old times and funny moments you two had shared over the years paired with a glass of champagne well, you both had gone through a few glasses. So much so, that you couldn’t help but notice how sculpted Anakin's arms looked through that crisp white shirt now that he had taken the jacket off, or how defined his jaw looked with every word he uttered, his hand wrapped around the champagne glass led your imagination to wild avenues, places they could be wrapped around instead and you certainly noticed how his eyes had darkened ever since he saw you in that dress, you knew him all too well you knew his mind was wandering like yours.

This all led to you being pinned against the door of your room, fumbling to take Anakin’s shirt off ,lips locked, with you both attached to the hip. He was determined to make you understand just how beautiful you are, to listen and tend to every need of your body, to express every way he loved you. Listening to his thoughts from earlier in the evening, he wanted to be the one to take off the dress so,whilst still engaging in the passionate kiss, he wrapped your legs around his waist and set you down gently on the bed. He adorned you with kisses, igniting shivers and small gasps from you, he roamed from your neck to your shoulders, arms, eventually wandering to your legs. He got up in anticipation to take the shoes off your feet, but as he did so he noticed something etched onto the bottom of your foot, he focused as he read out loud ‘Skywalker’, at this point you opened your eyes and sat up to look at Anakin smiling at your foot, feeling quite bizarre you retreated them back up as you spoke with your eyebrows furrowed ‘Huh? Is everything alright? Did you have too much to drink Ani? Do you want to just go to bed darling?’ he chuckled heartily ‘No princess I’m doing just fine, over the moon actually. You seem confused though, maybe you should see this’ your confusion turned into shock as he held up a mirror to reflect the words and as your hands went to cover face in embarrassment; your memories of the last part of your hen night came flooding back.Ahsoka had thought it would be a great idea if you got your beloved’s surname and now yours bear in mind, tattooed, and your highly intoxicated self thought it was a great idea. ‘Oh god, okay just hear me out’ you spoke restlessly as you explained the whole story to him. It had made Anakin laugh full heartedly, as he clutched onto his chest, and lifted your leg up to look at it again a few times. Although, you had not done it level headedly, he adored it, he thought it was very sentimental and only made him feel as though he’d never lose you, it made him feel loved knowing that you shared his surname and were so committed to him that you’d go to such lengths ‘I hope you know, I actually love it. The surname doesn’t only just suit your name Y/N but also looks beautiful carved onto your skin’ he spoke tenderly ‘Really? You really mean that? You asked speaking through your hand that was still covering your face ‘Absolutely angel, your name is etched onto my heart forever and looking at that name, our name makes it even more permanent’ this brought such warmth to your chest, you got up to embrace him and he did not hesitate to reciprocate ‘I love you Anakin’ you mumbled resting on his shoulder, ‘I love you too Y/N, in every way’

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #modern au #reader insert #star wars

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coldmorte · 4 years ago

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Honestly if Dutch van der Linde curb stomped me I would probably thank him, no questions asked, and I think you'll say the same-

OKAY.

You know me WAY TOO WELL. I was thinking about this ALL day and smiling to myself because it’s SO TRUE. I mean, what a conversation starter and one hell of an amazing story to tell… in the event of survival.

Also, I was quite captivated by this idea (and apparently quite bored). It’s been a long ass week, I needed to blow off steam, and you planted the idea in my mind.

SO I BLAME YOU FOR THE SHORT STORY THAT CAME OUT OF THIS 😵

This has to be one of the worst things I have EVER WRITTEN and definitely the worst post I have EVER made on the internet.

I am straight-up warning you right now - you probably don’t even want to read what this turned into. I hesitated as to whether or not I should even post this because it is SO BAD, but I figured… what the hell? What do I have to lose? I don’t give a damn. (This blog WAS reputable once upon a time, I swear....)

Aside from the internal shame I bear and my strong desire to forget this, I will give one other major warning… VIOLENCE. This is a bit graphic, but hey… I didn’t bring up the idea. I merely brought it to life. 🤷‍♀️

Sooooo with that in mind, PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOUR EYES AND MIND WILL FOREVER BE CURSED, BUT IF YOU ACCEPT THOSE TERMS, GO AHEAD. 😈😈😈😈

(PS if anybody is considering unfollowing me because of this post, I do not blame you one bit. But also, I promise it isn’t always like... this.)

I heard him before I saw him.

The sharp click-clack of his boot heels echoed loudly as he marched down the paved avenue. It was a harsh sound - heavy, but quick. There was a clear purpose in the steps. In the dead of night like this, nobody would dare to venture out without a good reason.

It had to be him.

Taking a drag from my cigarette, I smiled to myself as I lifted my head and blew the smoke towards the stars overhead. My eyes watched as it curled and twisted against the backdrop of the night sky, eventually dissipating into the vast heavens above.

When I finally lowered my chin, I could see his figure rapidly nearing out of the corner of my eye. I dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with my foot. Still, I kept my head turned away from him. I wasn’t about to give him my attention that easily.

“You.”

The tone of his voice was deep and heated as he confronted me. I kept my eyes fixed on the ground as I saw him try to stand in my line of sight and force me to look at him, which only encouraged me to tuck my chin closer to my chest. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I could feel my lips pulling into a wider smile.

“Look at me.” His voice seethed with so much fury, he didn’t even have to raise it to convey the emotional gravity of the words. Even so, I refused to give in that easily. He would have to do more than that if he was going to get what he came for.

Seeming to catch onto my resolve, his hands lurched forward and grabbed me by the jaw. He pulled my face upwards and held it there, forcing me to look into his eyes. It was hard to speak with his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my cheeks as he pinned my head to the wall. I could barely mumble out, “Hello to you as well, Dutch.”

Not even taking the time to allow for decent civility, Dutch ignored the greeting and got straight to the point. “Where are they? What did you do with them?”

I squirmed slightly under his touch as I moved my hands up to grip at his wrists. Tugging them downwards, he allowed them to be moved to my shoulders instead. However, his grasp tightened as he leaned his face closer to make up for the change. I knew better than to step out of line or push him anymore than I already was, but -

“With what? I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

Involuntarily, my hands reached forwards and clutched at the fabric of his waistcoat to steady myself as he shoved me harder into the wall. I practically hummed at the feeling of the tight muscles of his chest beneath, biting my lip to suppress my ever-growing smirk. Even in the dim light, I could see his eyes narrow as his face pulled into a fierce scowl. The vein in his forehead throbbed with intensifying anger as he hissed out his next words. All this energy, all this attention…. just for me.

“You know what! MY GODDAMN EVELYN MILLER BOOKS!”

At that remark, I couldn’t hold it back any more. I felt my lips part into a wide grin as I flashed my teeth at him. I knew I was toeing a fine line here - quite a precarious one, to be more exact. My own eyes narrowed as I relished in the pure mirth of the situation. Dutch would have to kill me before I’d give that information up.

“Come on, you’re the one always saying we need more money. Miller’s entire collection, all signed first editions? They’re worth more money than the entire gang could earn in a month, maybe two.”

Silence.

It was as if time itself froze. Even the breeze and the insects of the night became mute.

Then, those brown eyes flashed with a glimmer of rage as they widened. His lips fell open in an inaudible gasp as the fingers dug into my shoulders with bruising strength. Voice uneven and barely above a whisper, it was filled with cracks as he snarled back, “You… sold my books?”

It started in my chest - a shake. Quiet, at first. But steadily, it crept up my throat and out my mouth.

A laugh.

The look on his face - the horror of it all - evolved into something comical beyond the wildest depths of my imagination. I could not resist.

“How else are we gonna get to Tahiti?”

Even underneath my chuckles, I could hear it. Or maybe, felt would be a better word. An exhale so indigent and ferocious it came out as more of a growl. It shook his whole body, all the way down to the tips of his fingers still holding my shoulders against the wall.

But it was short-lived.

In an instant, I felt the breath get knocked from my lungs as those strong arms ripped me away from the wall and threw me to the ground. I grunted at the mere speed and agility of it all, but as soon as I was able to recover from the shock, I could feel the quivering sensation again.

Laughter, louder this time.

My whole body trembled from the sensation as I lifted my head. I was on my stomach now with Dutch somewhere behind me. Drawing an arm inwards, I moved to push myself upwards. I felt weak as a whole range of emotions coursed through my body - shock, amusement, terror, achievement...

Raising my head, I could see the curb of the street in front of me. Figuring I could use it as a place to hoist myself up, I began to crawl my way towards it. However, he was quicker. Just as I planted my palm on its brick edge, the sole of his boot dug firmly into my back and pinned my face against it.

The laughter was muffled, but it continued on. My mouth was propped up against the hard surface of the curb as the rest of my body remained in the street.

Dutch said nothing, but the more my laughter continued to escalate, the harder his boot gouged into my spine.

Until, he paused.

Pulling his foot away, the pressure disappeared. I was free from his power.

For a second.

My lungs felt like they collapsed in on themselves, the laughter dying on my lips as my face was crushed into the brick curb with such brute force that my entire vision went blank. I could feel my front teeth snap as the remnants rebounded against the roof of my mouth.

But I was still breathing. I was still awake.

Barely.

I could taste the blood from my gums burning the tip of my tongue as I drew in an unsteady breath. His foot was no longer on my back, but I knew he was still there. He wouldn’t just leave me.

Mustering up all the strength I could, I rolled myself over. Eyes blinking open slowly, it was hard to see at first. The world was a messy blur, hazy and clouded over with spots of black.

And yet, through it all, I could still see him.

Still standing over me, Dutch was staring down at my crumpled body. I tried to blink a few times, but I was seeing double of everything. I could think of nothing to do, except for…

Laugh.

What more could I do? My jaw hung limply open, the cacophonous cackling coming out in pained chokes of breath and labored coughs. I could see the shape of his body as it leaned forward, a hand brushing along my cheek.

I had to say something, I had to…

“D…”

His hand froze. My entire face burned with relentless agony. He had won. It was over.

And yet, I could not give up. Not just yet. I had to get it out.

My final word.

“D… daddy…”

The sensation felt so distant and removed from my body, but I could feel it nonetheless. A rumbling laughter - weakened, but most certainly still discernible - returned to my chest as he snatched his hand away. Standing above me once again, I could hear the click of his gun as he pulled the hammer back.

“You never learn, do you?’

With that, an intense ringing filled my ears. It was deafening at first, but as my vision plunged into nothingness, it slowly faded away.

All that remained was my dead body and the broken grin plastered across my face, forever preserving my final moment of overwhelming pleasure and gratitude.

---- FINE ----

Note: I was thinking about this. I honestly have no idea how I would say the “th” in “thanks” without teeth, so I’d probably resort to showing my appreciation through excessive joy instead… and by taking my last moments to sneak you-know-what-word in there. I think I could manage that without teeth.

Hehe. Anyway, this is still WAYYY out of character for me. I just was in a reallyyyyyy weird mood, and I’ve always had too vivid of an imagination. Please, forgive me. I am done now. (If you DID read this far, I am genuinely curious to hear your thoughts on my absolutely horrific garbage, though) 🙃

HAVE A GREAT DAY 💜💜💜💜

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personuhh · 4 years ago

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I want your input on how you guys think the P4 cast’s futures would shake out! I have a general idea of where I want things to go, but I think having input from everyone is important too. Any characters that I’ve left off (Kanji, the Dojimas, Yukiko, etc) already have pretty solid arcs planned, so don’t worry, I didn’t forget them.

There are a bunch of numbered questions to make it easier to respond to, I’d be happy even if you guys took the time just answering one or two! Thanks for your interest, and hopefully you guys find this an interesting read at the very least lol.

(I’ve grouped all of the questions at the end in case you want to see them all together.)

General Info:

The game is planned to take place in 2015, so everything will take place 3 years after Arena/P4DAN/Golden Epilogue.

Because it’s centered around Inaba, it will only focus on characters still in the town (so Rise, Chie and Naoto will not be playing large roles in the game).

Yosuke:

I’ve mentioned already where I see Yosuke in 2015 (directionless, just finishing college but still working at Junes) but I’ve also been tossing around a few ideas for future careers that I think would work for him. I think him being a mechanic or just generally handy with fixing things would be a good avenue to explore, not just because of his interest in motorcycles, but also because I think it would compliment his arc nicely; for someone who’s so afraid of screwing everything up, I think it would be good for Yosuke to realize that he’s really good at fixing things. it’s not too out of nowhere (he’s a broke college student, I’m sure he’s had to fix a leaky faucet in his apartment or something, and he must have tuned up and fixed his bike after he crashed it), and could be a thing he realizes (with Yu’s help ofc) over the course of his route that he just... never thought of as a legitimate skill before.

I’ve also thought about him joining the Shadow Operatives (Mitsuru’s team of shadow fighting elites, comprised mostly of former SEES members), which is usually my go-to when thinking about what his potential career could be, but in a lot of ways it feels like somewhat of a copout. On top of it glazing over Yosuke’s critical lack of personal identity, it also feeds into the idea that he isn’t anything special without his persona, which doesn’t exactly do much for character growth. I think it’s the most obvious and canon-compliant choice, and one that he would both enjoy and be good at, I worry about what it would mean for his character. Of course, Mitsuru recognizes his skills and would likely take him on no problem, and while I love the idea of Yosuke joining them and living a life full of excitement and badassery, I don’t think he needs to do much soul-searching to arrive at this decision.

So...

#1: What jobs and/or hobbies do you see Yosuke doing that utilizes his skills (either preexisting or ones you believe he could easily develop)? Thoughts on what I’ve said regarding his potential career?

Yu:

Yu has been giving me some pretty big headaches when trying to plot this game. Obviously, as the protagonist, giving him something interesting to do that also ties into the plot is important; which is why I’m leaning so heavily toward him working for the Inaba PD. It would fit with why he chooses to return to Inaba permanently, and would be plausible within the time period, along with obvious connections (Dojima) that could secure him a position within the force. My concern is that the game then becomes either too serious, or too heavily based around Yu as opposed to the rest of the cast. I definitely don’t want it to turn into yet another Inaba mystery, and choosing another profession for Yu would likely keep things a lot more lighthearted (if Yu’s working as an elementary teacher for example, the biggest problems he’s going to face are like, the stubborn kid in his class that won’t stop shoving pencils up his nose, maybe an angry parent, nothing TOO serious that requires a complex solution) and leave more time to focus on whichever route you choose.

HOWEVER, this job also would allow for easy cameos from outside characters (Naoto, Chie, Akihiko and the other Shadow Operatives) all of whom work closely with, or directly for the police. I just worry about it taking over and pulling the focus away from other characters. I don’t want it to be Detective Simulator: Persona 4 Edition, which is why I’ve also been throwing around other alternatives for Yu’s career (the obvious ones being teacher/daycare, and veterinarian) but it needs to be a job easily securable within the 3 year timeframe and a reason for him to move back to Inaba. If he’s still enrolled in college with the promise of a job at the end of it, there would be no reason for him to move and have to commute.

#2: Would you prefer Yu’s job be something more in the background rather than one of the major driving forces of the plot?

#3: Would you prefer Yu’s role be more of a player insert protagonist?

#4: Arena-style internal narration (first person, hearing Yu’s thoughts), or stick to P4′s approach (second person, slightly more objective)?

#5: Any suggestions for what you think would suit Yu as a career?

Naoki:

I’m completely fine having Naoki’s job staying as him just working at (and eventually inheriting) Konishi Liquors, but I think there’s still plenty to explore for his character outside of that. Because his SL focuses on Naoki grieving and Yu leaning not to treat him any differently, it doesn’t account for the rest of Inaba and how they treat Naoki. Small town reputations stick, and even if he’s managed to move past Saki’s death to an extent, everyone still knows him as the other Konishi kid, and I think he would really struggle to deal with that reputation. Even if he’s learned to open up to Yu, Yosuke, and a few of his school friends by the end of his SL, I can see him becoming incredibly jaded and growing tired of Inaba because he can’t manage to escape the public’s pity. I’ve thought about him turning to dangerous, risk-taking behavior and escapism as a result of this, but it’s pretty hard to change an entire town’s opinion of you and your family, and I don’t see where it could go from here other than him essentially running away from it all and giving up.

#6: Any ideas for Naoki’s route or character in general?

#7: Would you be interested in dating him, or would you prefer it either be platonic, or for him to be kept as a supporting cast member?

#8: Are you okay with heavy topics like (underage) alcoholism, or do you believe it would be better to avoid a plot like this?

Daisuke & Kou:

I’m honestly hesitant to include these two in the game at all, as I find it a little hard to believe that they’d stay in Inaba for that long.

#9: Any ideas for potential jobs that would keep them in Inaba?

#10: Would you prefer each of them to have separate routes, or have them grouped together?

#11: Would you be interested in dating them together, separately, or for them to have their route(s) kept platonic and for them be in a relationship with each other?

#12: Any general ideas for their route(s)?

Dates:

Since I have no set time frame for the game, I’m open to including all kinds of seasonal dates, festivals, and events (like Valentines or New Years, for example) and I’ll decide on a time of year based on that.

Aside from shared events between all routes, though, I’d love suggestions for some cute character-specific dates (eg. Yu takes Yosuke to a concert, Kanji and Yu go shopping for yarn, something like that). Please go ahead and be as random and specific as you want, it doesn’t have to be a massive event.

#13: Any general date ideas?

#14: Any character-specific date ideas?

Full question list under the cut:

Question list:

#2: Would you prefer Yu’s job be something more in the background rather than one of the major driving forces of the plot?

#3: Would you prefer Yu’s role be more of a player insert protagonist?

#4: Arena-style internal narration (first person, hearing Yu’s thoughts), or stick to P4′s approach (second person, slightly more objective)?

#5: Any suggestions for what you think would suit Yu as a career?

#6: Any ideas for Naoki’s route or character in general?

#7: Would you be interested in dating Naoki, or would you prefer it either stay platonic, or for him to be kept as a supporting cast member?

#8: Are you okay with heavy topics like (underage) alcoholism, or do you believe it would be better to avoid a plot like this?

#9: Any ideas for potential jobs that would keep Kou & Daisuke in Inaba?

#10: Would you prefer Kou & Daisuke to have separate routes, or have them grouped together?

#11: Would you be interested in dating Kou & Daisuke together, separately, or for them to have their route(s) kept platonic and for them be in a relationship with each other?

#12: Any general ideas for Kou & Daisuke’s route(s)?

#13: Any general date ideas?

#14: Any character-specific date ideas?

#ada's writing #i need a tag for this game....#persona 4 #ada speaks

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] Also on AO3

Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable—”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover, but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #ptsd cw #panic attacks #I think we all agree that Jon has issues with lotion #but it occurs to me he probably has thunderstorm issues too

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doberbutts · 5 years ago

Text

On Crate Training

Let’s be real here, there are about to be a lot of puppies in my house. A frankly ridiculous amount of puppies. Way too many puppies.

And so, the blog gets to be topical regarding my current situation.

I maintain that a crate is the best tool for a new dog someone could possibly have. Besides the obvious use- having a contained place for the dog to be- there are plenty of other reasons to crate train a dog. Many surgeries and injuries will require the dog to be contained, usually kenneled or caged. Travelling in a car is safer in a crate, and if you fly with anything besides a service dog, the dog will need to be contained somehow there too. If dogs aren’t getting along, or if someone needs a break from someone else, a crate’s a great tool to manage that issue. It can cut down on potty training problems and destructive behavior. Finally. a crate can keep your dog safe in situations where they will be unsupervised for long periods, which is great for people who work or attend classes.

And a lot of people who crate train puppies will retire the use of a crate after the dog is a certain age! Some dogs will always be safer crated- these are dogs who are destructive or aggressive but are contained and safe within their box. But some dogs will be able to go crateless and never see it again. Creed, for instance, is crateless in my room and is generally only crated in the main house if he has aggravated his shoulder injury, if he’s overly hot and needs to cool down (or just after eating for bloat prevention), or if we’re switching around dogs who don’t get along or who resource guard. This is the way it’s been for him since he was about 2.5 years old, and would have likely been sooner if we did not live with a dog that was less than half his size but still wanted to eat his face.

If you’re really not comfortable with crating, you have two other options: xpens, or gating off a puppy-safe puppy-proof room and hoping your flooring and walls withstand the wrath of a bored and sad dog while you’re out of the house.

Something I did with Tiki, which I don’t commonly do with dogs, was hook an xpen to her crate so she could decide to go in there if she wanted, or she could hang out in the bigger “freedom” of her xpen. Tiki was a special case, because she was very sick and also had no ability to control her bladder for longer than an hour or two, so she needed access to her potty pad while I was at work and also needed the option of sleeping in a bed right next to a space heater so she could be warm. I’ll probably do something similar with Fae until I know her schedule, though I ended up not liking that I had gotten lazy regarding taking Tiki out (especially at night in the winter) and thus her outside potty training had taken longer than it needed to because I was heavily relying on her just going on the pad.

Mocha, my parents’ chow mix, seems to be claustrophobic and will panic and injure herself against the crate no matter how much we tried to make the crate a safe place for her. She’s also not comfortable with any sort of restrictive training device, being restrained, or being confined to other tight spaces like a bathtub or a closet or under a piece of furniture. As a result, we completely dog-proofed a room in the house for her, took off her crate’s door so she could still have the option of laying in it without scaring herself if she wanted, and left her to it during her young puppy years. If your dog truly won’t crate train, this is always a fine alternative if you have the ability! We had also tried this with Queenie, my childhood german shepherd, but she destroyed the flooring and door of that room, so when she passed and we had to renovate it for Mocha, we ended up having to fix a lot of that damage. YMMV- Queenie was incredibly noise sensitive and would panic and hurt herself in thunderstorms or during fireworks.

In any case, no matter what avenue you end up choosing, a few things to keep in mind are:

make it a positive place! This is not a place to be put as a punishment, but somewhere the dogs should want to go. I almost exclusively feed my dogs in crates until they’re old enough to be crateless. As a result, the dogs see me get their food bowls out of their crates and run in wagging their tails because they know food’s about to come. They get special crate-only toys and treats and beds too, so if I hand Creed a kong while he’s out he’ll go looking for a crate to hide and enjoy his treat without the other dogs bothering him.

make it a safe place! Unless the crate is more than big enough for it and both dogs get along with absolutely zero tension, I treat crates like personal bedrooms. My dogs are crated separately and they know which crate to go in without having to be directed. Dogs don’t bother you while you’re in the crate, and they can’t get you in there. If your dog wants to stay in their crate, don’t drag them out.

make it cozy! If the dog can be trusted with a bed, give them something warm and soft to lay on! In the summer, put a cooling mat in there! If your dog likes privacy, cover it so it’s nice and dark and comfortable. If your dog likes to feel like they’re part of the household, put the crate uncovered where there’s a lot of people that hang out (our dog room is right between our office and our living room). Some people like giving their dogs things like calming scents/oils/sprays/toys, or they play music or white noise, or they put a hot water bottle in with the dog (I don’t do this with weaned puppies), or they use one of those heartbeat snuggle toys (I also don’t do this with weaned puppies).

make it fun! Look up crate games and practice a few of them! Put going in and out of the crate on a cue, or throw a treat or toy in there and play crate-fetch, or play the in-out game, your choice. Make the crate a good and fun place to be, so that your dog understands that it’s not bad to be in there.

make it fair! Like all tools, it’s possible to misuse or overuse a crate. People who work 10+ hours a day for instance should look into other options- perhaps a dog room or xpen, or hiring a dogwalker/dogsitter to come by a few times a day to let your dog out, or figure out a schedule where you can come home between classes or shifts to do it yourself. I had a brain injury a few years ago and was confined to my bedroom for much of my recovery, and I definitely began to resent that my world was so restricted. Imagine how your dog feels, restricted to a small box for a large portion of their day. There’s only 24 hours in a day, if you’re out of the house for 8 hours and also asleep for 8 hours, that leaves a third of the day (but probably less with commutes etc) for your dog to have some “out” time. If you’re out or asleep for any longer than that, it’s even less. People who work 10 hours, with an hour commute, and also sleep 8 hours, leave their dog with just 4 hours of “out” time per day. It’s little wonder why these dogs hate their crates or why they’re wild when you are home.

tough it out! Don’t fall into the common trap of letting the puppy out of the crate every time it squeaks. Don’t fall into the common trap of only ever putting the puppy in the crate when you’re about to leave. Don’t fall into the common trap of yelling at your puppy for being sad that you locked it in a box. These are all things people tend to do when crate training and they all make this take much longer than they need to.

A roommate just got a standard poodle pup they’ll be showing in conformation, and we’re going over all of this even with this puppy. Right now he’s hanging out and having a nap in his crate with the door wide open. He was crated due to being unsupervised, and then the door was opened and he chose to stay in there and go back to sleep. That’s okay! If he decides he wants to leave, he can. He’s learning that we won’t bother him while he’s in there (outside of emergencies of course), but also that that’s where he goes if he can’t be watched, even if he can still hear and see his owner. He has some puppy-specific treats and toys in there, and the door’s open so of course the established adults would really like to steal them, but we’re enforcing that that’s not allowed either.

So now we have two established adults just hanging out and leaving him alone (even though both would really like to play Squish The Puppy) and the new kid in the house sprawled out in his open crate being left to his own devices. Dogs are den animals, and the two adults that are hanging out are used to this type of training. That’s his den, so they’re not invited in there, so they leave him and his stuff alone.

And, eventually, he might join the established adults and be crateless too when he’s old enough and knows some house manners. Right now, though, it’s an important tool to both keep him safe and also show him that he’s allowed to ask for a break from us just like we might put him in there so we can have a break from him.

#shut up jazi

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