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overdevelopedglasses · 1 year ago

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Tojoctober Day 8 - Score

(...You Better Throw the First Punch.)

Alt title is the second half of a lyric from “The Good, The Bad and The Dirty” by Panic! At the Disco.

Saejima confronts and assists Majima with what's been on his mind.

A continuation of the story from Day 2!

(Yakuza 4, 5, and 6 Spoilers)

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The morning sun, despite being in the sky for a while, shines a soft light on the courtyard of the Tojo Clan Headquarters. The only people outside, sitting on the stoop of one of the outdoor buildings are the Sixth Chairman's advisors: Saejima and Majima. Majima is slowly smoking a cigarette, watching the clouds he creates drift into the light blue sky. Saejima is nursing himself, as during their fight, he did get nicked by Majima's blade a couple times.

For a while, the two are silent, each engrossed in their respective activities, but appreciating that they aren't alone.

Saejima speaks up, breaking the silence and the somewhat weird air that has started to manifest.

"Somethin's been botherin' you, brother."

Majima lets out a long sigh, his expression ridden with melancholy.

"Whadya mean?" Majima asks, clearly dodging whatever topic was about to be discussed.

"It's been ages since we've fought like that. Not to mention the funk you've been stinkin' the office with."

Majima's head spins around, expression wild with disbelief. He gives Saejima a light shove in the shoulder.

"Haw? Ya sayin' I smell?"

Saejima gives Majima a glare.

"Have you been washin' up?"

"The fuck!? I have great hygiene!"

"So ya know that's not what I meant."

Majima's gaze moves away from his brother, and looks back at a rising smoke cloud that he made.

"Brother… ya know I trust you."

"Of course, Majima."

Majima swivels his gaze back to Saejima, this time hard and fierce.

"Not a peep about this to anyone, not even Daigo."

Saejima's expression remains unchanged by Majima's tonal shift. He's one of the few people who's unfazed by the Mad Dog's whiplash of personas. Comes with the territory, when he's been your sworn brother for over 3 decades.

"Whatever gives ya peace."

Majima drops his cigarette onto the ground, putting it out with his shoe. He picks up the butt and pockets it to throw away later. He takes a deep breath, and with his next words, Majima's tone and voice soften. His brother has to lean in close to make sure he hears him. Most would think Majima’s fallen quiet so he's not heard; Saejima thinks it's out of fear. Whatever this was, it was something the Mad Dog kept close at heart.

"...I don't think he's dead."

Saejima lets out a chuckle. Could he be any less specific?

"Majima, there's a lot of de-"

"Kiryu-chan."

Saejima stops short. Kiryu’s name had not been uttered by either of them since Daigo read his letter. Saejima had missed the man, sure, but Majima saying that name carried so many emotions with it that he couldn’t decipher all of them.

"There's no way that Kiryu-chan is dead."

Saejima starts to speak again, hoping he has the right angle on this situation.

"We weren't at that fight, so we don't know how-"

"Saejima. Please."

Saejima sighs, the reason for why he was playing devil's advocate was lost on his brother. But he knows he hasn’t heard everything, so he shoots Majima an apologetic look.

"The thing is, I've seen Kiryu-chan survive fuckin' everything. Brutal fights, gunshots, stab wounds, stab wounds I made, any attempt made on his life. Fuck, he even survived bleeding out in the snow!"

Majima glances at Saejima, and he gives him the nod to keep talking. Majima holds his gaze. A beat passes, and he continues.

"Here’s the kicker for me… Ya remember when I faked my death?"

"Yeah. You fooled everyone in Kamurocho and beyond, except for those who were in on it."

"But who did I fail to fool? Who knew me inside and out and didn't believe for a second I was dead?"

"....me." Saejima responds. He remembers everyone talking about how Goro Majima was killed a few years ago, but not for a second did Saejima believe the news. There would only be one way that he’d believe Majima had kicked the bucket, and that would be the gruesome sight of his corpse.

"Exactly. Ya see, it's not in the same way as you, brother, but I feel like I know Kiryu-chan."

"You also stalked him for a good long while, according to him."

"That's not my point." Majima responds with a chuckle. Saejima had a feeling that Kiryu and Majima had a relationship that was more complicated than on the surface, but Saejima only heard word about their first antics from Kiryu. He had been meaning to broach the subject with his brother sooner, but since he went back to prison in 2010, they hadn’t had much time together, let alone just the two of them.

"I think of Kiryu-chan's death announcement, and just… somethin' doesn't sit right."

"Is it because you see the similarities between your situation and his?"

"Maybe? But I always intended on coming back to the living. When it was safe to, ya know?"

He swears he hears his brother’s breath start to shake.

"But, I'm not sure he intends to return." Majima's tone shifts into one of sadness, and Saejima doesn't need another signal of what Majima's wellbeing is. He starts to feel really shitty. His brother had been suffering for a while, and Saejima only thought to speak up when he was about to be pummeled by the man. And Majima’s issue was not the denial that Saejima thought he'd have to combat. Majima had very good reason to believe that Kiryu still walked among them. It goes to show just how wicked smart his brother is. Underneath the mad dog persona is one of the sharpest brains Saejima has ever known. But with a sharp mind comes even more intense emotions, which was what Saejima excelled at, at least when it came to Majima. Not to mention from the way he was speaking, Kiryu must’ve been his closest relationship. His death was making Majima crack, and he had become too good at hiding his problems with laughter and violence for something so simple to be plaguing him this much.

No, the problem was that Majima was so confident that Kiryu wasn’t dead, he feared that no one would believe him.

Better late than never, then. Saejima thought, before breaking the silence that had briefly fallen between them.

"Majima… I know he meant a lot to you. So I won't try to hit ya with any weird reasoning."

"But yer still thinkin' it. Ya probably think I'm crazy. I mean-I know I am, but crazy in a bad way." Majima's voice wavers.

"That doesn't matter. Ya think it'll change anything? Hell, I thought you had betrayed me for 2 decades, and that still didn't change anything."

Majima's eye flickers away briefly. Saejima continues, unrelenting.

"If you ever see him again… what do ya think you'll do?"

For the first time in a while, Saejima sees not anger, but sorrow, reflected in Majima’s good eye.

"Well… that'll be a score I need to settle with the man himself. Why he did this," Majima gestures to the air, "Why he put his friends and family through anguish. Why…" Majima's expression changes, and Saejima knows that look better than anyone: while still traces of sorrow remain, Majima was looking into his memories.

"Why he would make me think that he broke our promise."

The two advisors fall back into silence, nothing left to be said. They gaze out at the blue sky and the clouds drifting by, some birds starting to chirp in the trees. After a while, Saejima scoots over, touching shoulders with his brother. He makes eye contact with him, the one eye wrought with a bit of confusion. It's out of character for him to initiate physical touch. With what Majima had laid out in front of him, it’s like the answer was staring at him in the face.

Kiryu could still be alive. No�� he is alive.

"If it's worth anything… I believe you."

For the first time since their fight, Majima smiles. A genuine smile, not one of the Mad Dog, but of Goro Majima.

"Thanks, brother. Ya don't know how nice that is to hear."

A beat passes. Majima sighs, and Saejima gets the feeling that he had been holding that in for a long time.

"Ya mind if I rest my head? It's been a while, and emotional shit is fuckin' exhausting."

Saejima lets out a small laugh, any fucks he was giving about appearances being thrown to the wind.

"Sure."

Majima lets his head fall onto Saejima's shoulder, and shuts his eye. Saejima watches him shift his body until he's finally comfortable.

"Felt good to let that all out. Thanks, brother. For… everything."

Saejima smirks, "Thank you for everything, Majima. I don't know what I'd do without ya."

Saejima still has many questions, and a desire to learn about Kiryu from his brother, but now isn’t the best time to talk about it. Instead, Saejima looks back at the clouds, and in that moment he could swear that one of them looks like a very familiar dragon.

#tojoctober #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #saejima taiga #majima goro #kiryu kazuma #majima is too smart for me to think he'd believe kiryu kicked the bucket from the final fight of 6 #just the plot point of Kiryu's death -> resurgence is so interesting to me #especially from perspectives that aren't Kiryu #can you tell I'm excited for Gaiden?#next time we see these two it'll be much more lighthearted and less... oof ouch. I promise

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brocken-dwaf · 1 year ago

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Nature is a thing

In spring, the world awakens with delight, As flowers bloom, a colorful sight, Birds take flight, pure and bright, Nature's canvas, a stunning light.

Summer sun beats down with all its might, Life takes its course, in full delight, Bees, butterflies, horses unite, Dancing together, a joyful sight.

Autumn comes, leaves descend, Trees stand bare, their shawls rescind, Crisp air, a breeze that bends, Nature prepares for winter's trend.

Winter's chill, it grips the land, Snowflakes fall on nature's command, Frost, ice, a frozen band, Nature's beauty, in full demand.

In nature's dance, we find our place, A part of life's eternal chase, Every season, every phase, We marvel at its endless grace.

Nature is a wondrous thing, A symphony that makes us sing, Each season, a new offering, Gifts of beauty nature brings.

Spring brings life to every nook, Flowers bloom, by babbling brooks, The world refreshed, a newfound look, Nature's beauty, we partake.

Summer's warmth, it brings us joy, Days are long, nights employ, Sun shines bright, life's alloy, Nature's bounty, we enjoy.

Autumn's colors paint the land, Trees majestic, leaves expand, Crisp air, a feeling grand, Nature's magic, atour command.

Winter's snow blankets all, World so quiet, like a shawl, Frozen ground, icy sprawl, Nature's beauty, it enthralls.

Nature's rhythm, it never fades, Always there, in all its shades, A symphony of endless grades, And we're blessed to be its aides.

Nature is a teacher, wise and true, It shows us what it means to renew, To let go of the old, and embrace the new, And start again, like the morning dew.

In spring, we learn to grow and bloom, Shed our fears, leave our gloom, Rise up high, like a mushroom, And let our light, the world consume.

Summer teaches us to slow down, Savor life, wear a crown, Feel the warmth, all around, Let our feet touch the ground.

Autumn's lessons, they are clear, Shed the old, let it disappear, Face our fears, without a tear, Move ahead, with a new frontier.

Winter's wisdom, it's all around, Rest, pause, hear the sound, Of our own breath, that's so profound, Let our spirit be unbound.

In nature, we discover anew, A part of us, that's pure and true, A world that's free from daily hue, And let us see a different view.

Nature is a healer, for our soul, Brings us peace, and makes us whole, Helps us find, our inner goal, And makes us feel like we're on a roll.

Yet nature now is under attack, As humans leave their dirty track. Pollution, waste, what we lack, I care for nature, bringing it back.

Deforestation, mining the land, Chemicals and plastics expand, Ice caps melting, deserts expand, Species dying, water and land.

The climate is changing, the planet is warming, Fierce storms now the norming, Rising seas, no more conforming, Nature struggles, the future storming.

We pump carbon into the air, Poison the oceans without a care, Consume and waste without a share, For future lives, it's only fair.

We were given a garden, lush and green, But fail as stewards, it's clearly seen. Destroying nature, in the name of gain, When will we wake up, and break the chain?

Our actions now shape the future's course, It's time to change, apply our force. Conserve this planet, the only source, Of life we know, we must re-source.

Let's cherish nature's gift while we still can, Heal the planet, every woman, child and man. Our fate entwined, since Earth began, Together as stewards, life we'll expand.

Respect the planet, change our ways, The future's unwritten, the choice is ours to save, This garden of Eden, escape the days, Whennature is lost, no seasons, no place, To call our home a barren space.

The choice is ours, the time is now, To cherish nature, fulfill our vow. To save the planet, to show us how, Together as one, let's make it count.

To save our planet, we must act fast, Reduce our waste, and make it last, Cut down on plastic, switch to glass, And use our resources, with a purpose that's steadfast.

We can recycle, and reuse too, Compost our waste, it's easy to do, Plant trees, and let nature renew, And reduce our carbon footprint too.

But the sad truth is, most won't change, They'll carry on, in their old ways estranged, The environment, to them, is just a range, Of resources, to consume and arrange.

They'll keep on polluting, without a thought, The consequences, to them, are naught, And the earth will pay the cost, as it's wrought, With destruction, and a future that's fraught.

But we can't give up, we must persist, And keep on fighting, until we enlist, The masses, to change, and to desist, From harming our planet, or to coexist.

We must educate, and raise awareness, Of the dangers, that we all must address, And show them the beauty, that we must caress, And the consequences of our mess.

For we are all part of this planet, And it's up to us, to take a stand, and to commit, To protect the earth, and to permit, A future that's bright, and not unfit.

So let us come together, and unite, To save our planet, with all our might, And use our knowledge, and our insight, To create a future, that's bright and right.

For nature's beauty is too precious to lose, And the earth is a gift, that we must not abuse, Let's be the change, and let it diffuse, And let our love for nature be the fuse.

Let's work together, and make it known, That we care for the earth, and it's not alone, And that we'll do everything, to atone, For the damage that we have sown.

So let's save the planet, for generations to come, And let nature thrive, like a beating drum, Let's be the stewards, and let our actions hum, And let the beauty of nature always be our sum.

#poetry #nature #seasons #polution #save the planet #poems and poetry #poetic #my poem #long read #accurate #summer #winter #autumn #fall #spring #planet earth #road to heaven on earth

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constantly-tired-unwell · 17 days ago

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On earth, there are seven continents, 195 countries, around 203 states, over 10,000 cities, over 15,000 towns, 38% of the population is made up of families, and there are over 8 billion people on this earth. Every second four people are born and two people die. The world turns like clock work, around the sun, being the only consistent thing that happens to every individual. We see hundreds of nameless faces, only to pass by them without a word. To every person the world revolves around them. We are the constant, the main character, the person who either has their story being written for them or the person who took the pen and started a new chapter. People have at least 27 types of emotions, over 800 ways to respond with said emotions. There are 16 different types of personalities and yet everyone still tries to fit into one. The sad thing is, to some, that one is their entire life. For their unfinished book has been locked away and replaced with a finished one. However there is no lock in the world, that with the right tools and enough time, you can't break through.

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“Rest your eyes my child, even though night is dark, the stars will light your path to the correct future.” Oliver remembers his mothers words vividly. Even though he was five at the time, he remembers every time he gazes at the night sky. However unlike the night, morning is fierce and demands his attention. A knock at his door was the final thing that officially told him it was time to get up and begin his day.

“Your majesty, may I enter your quarters?”

“Yes Vynn, you may enter.” With that Oliver’s door opened and stepped in a slim, tan man. “Also how many times must I tell you to call me Oliver?”

“153 times, including today your majesty” quipped Vynn. in return he got an un-amused look from Oliver. As Oliver starts to rise from his bed Vynn works his way around the room setting everything up that is needed to start the day. Something catches Oliver’s attention out the window.

“Vynn come here,” As Vynn approaches Oliver opens the large window and when Vynn was next to Oliver, Oliver pointed to the sky. The light had only just broken over the hills and the sun rose to light the castle grounds.

“I believe today would be the perfect day to view the new flowers that have been planted in the gardens, Your majesty.”

“Why yes, my lovely servant, i would agree with you.” Vynn’s eyes caught Olivers, and both stood appreciating the others' presents. Oliver could stare at Vynn for hours because in the current lighting, the cherry red highlights stood out against the brown, and his usually mossy green eyes turned to shining emeralds. Oliver, as always, loved how Vynn looked in the morning light, how his usual tan skin turned to a hot chocolate color with the sunrise. It always surprised Oliver how different their skin looked under the sunrise even though they share the same tones and shades. On the other side, Vynn saw how Oliver’s normally chocolate brown eyes were now light with gold flecks, and that slight height difference allowed for Olivers bleach blonde bed head to tickle Vynns forehead. Suddenly, Vynn laughed. “What?” asked Oliver, eyes crinkling as he narrowed his gaze.

“Sorry but, because of the rising sun, you could almost be mistake for a ghost”

“Well at least i would be a tall ghost, people could mistake you for a gremlin”

“I'm 5’ 9”! You only have three inches on me!” Oliver stared amused at Vynn, who was glaring right at him. Silence consumed the room until a sudden bang outside the room, followed by hurried footsteps, made both men jump. Vynn’s Gaze caught Olivers and both doubled over laughing. It took a handful of minutes before both were composed. “Come, your majesty, let's begin your day. You have a meeting with the king soon."

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“ENOUGH,” Shouted the King. “How many times must I tell you Oliver? You are a Barlowe! When you turn 18, your coronation will be a glorious moment for the whole kingdom to share.”

“I understand that father, but I do not wish to be displayed for other royals to determine if I'm husband material or not!”

“Then who shall you marry? That servant boy of yours? The kingdom would never accept such a partnership.” Oliver bowed his head. This has been an ongoing argument since he was 15. Looking around the throne room, the room that was filled with memories of his childhood, he wondered ‘Why should I lead a kingdom who doesn’t accept me?’ “Oliver, my dear boy, this world is not a kind one. I wish you could love who you want, but that is just not an option. Now go, you have your lessons today, and I have paperwork to complete.” Oliver sighed and turned to leave. He wasn’t even 5 paces out the doors until he saw his mother. His face must have shown how upset he was because without a word, he was grabbed into a tight hug.

“I take it that this talk was not in your favor?”

“When are they ever, mom?”

“Your father is just trying to keep the peace, though I do agree that maybe he should think a little before he speaks.”

“Think! All he does is think. Thinks he knows what's best, thinks he knows how to, thinks, thinks, thinks. Mother, when will I be able to think that I know best? This is my life!”

“I know darling, the world is not as dark as he believes. However, someone can only control your life for however long you let them have your strings.”

“Why must you always speak in riddles?" Oliver let out a sigh and finally fully relaxed from the tension that the meeting with his father caused. The Queen laughed at that, a quick chuckle before she placed her hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

“How’s this then, Live your life, my darling boy, for you can only live this life once.” the Queen said with a fond smile. “Now go to the courtyard for your lessons, you mustn't be late, again.”

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Much time passed, and before dinner was ready, Oliver and Vynn decided that doing some work in the garden would make a fine addition to their day

“So” Vynn turned his head to face Oliver as he spoke. “Hypothetically if you got a hat, would you stop messing with your hair?” For the past hour, instead of focusing on the paperwork Oliver was supposed to be doing, all he could focus on was Vynn messing with his hair. It had now reached his shoulders and still held on to the shag cut that Vynn had gotten some months ago.

“Honestly, maybe? It has gotten quite long and is very distracting it wont stay out of my eyes"

“Why not get it cut in the village?”

“The barber is not as good as he used to be with his hands and i would rather not lose an ear as well as my hair.” Oliver reached to brush Vynns hair back, allowing for his eyes to fully be shown.

“I could cut it for you?”

“Oh what a show that would be.” Vynn said with an amused look on his face.

“Hey! I would like to say I am very good with my hands!”

“Whatever you say, your majesty.” With that, Oliver shoved Vynn out of the sitting position he was in. While being shoved, Vynn was laughing a deep rumble, and eyes showed pure amusement. When both calm down, they admire the surrounding scenery. How the reds and blues of the flowers blend. The sweet smell of honeysuckles and the evening light highlighting the high points of both their faces. Oliver was suddenly filled with overwhelming love. Love towards the man right in front of him.

Without so much as a thought, Oliver blurted out, “Lets run away!” The words were as much of a shock to Oliver as they were to Vynn.

“Oliver what?”

“it could work, you and me no pressure of who would and wouldn’t agree.”

“We can’t, You can’t.”

“Why not! I don't need all this money or power to be happy. I especially dont need my father telling me who to and to not love Vynn.”

“You’re needed Oliver, you have a kingdom to rule and people who are depending on you. Your coronation is right around the corner. The preparation has already started to begin. You have lessons that need finishing and people to help, you have-”

“Vynn-”

“No, your majesty, you're going to meet an amazing woman i know it! She will aid you with whatever you need and be your partner in many things. You will have kids, and then you shall grow old together. During all this, the both of you will rule this wonderful kingdom. That is the correct path. I can't allow you to risk your entire future for a servant like me.”

“Vynn…no”

“This will happen! You have an amazing support system to ensure you have the best life you can have!”

“We can fight this! You and me, Vynn, that’s all I shall ever need!”

“All the fight in the world will not change that you are royalty, and I am your servant,” Vynn stood, looking deeply conflicted. After a moment, he sighed and turned to face away from Oliver. “I'm sorry, your majesty.” With that, Vynn walked away before Oliver could stand to go after him.

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“He left Mother.”

“Oliver-”

“He left, I told him and he left.”

“Darling, fear is a powerful thing. Sometimes we need a guiding hand to get us through it.”

“I was scared, always afraid i'm going to do the wrong thing. I told him though and he walked away.”

“Oliver, do you remember that night you got lost in the town. You ran away from your guard because you saw a butterfly. i was terrified, But you showed up at the entrance of the castle holding on so tight to another boy's hand, completely fine”

“Why are you telling me this mother?”

“Do you remember what you told me when I saw you?”

Oliver turns to avoid his mothers gaze before saying “‘I followed the star's mama, and they led me to him.’ That's what i said.'' When Oliver’s eyes met his mothers, their tears were collecting in his.

“Correct, you also said that he was your right future. Sometimes, though, people just need some more reassurance, so go give him that reassurance. You and him were raised very differently from each other. Your father and I tried our best to keep people away who might harm you, but that also means it was easier for harm to come to others because we were watching you. I can not tell you what people might have told him. Jealousy is powerful and can harm many, my dear. Go to him. I know he feels the same. Show him that it is ok to take this risk.”

“But father-”

“You let me deal with him, now what are you waiting for?” With that, Oliver ran past his mother and out of the gardens.

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Oliver spent over three hours running through the village. Lefts and rights, up streets and down them. Looking for one person but seeing hundreds. Listening to all the townspeople around him. At that moment, he knew that when he saw Vynn next, he was not going to let him go again. Oliver had almost run through the entire town. He ran to the last place, the docks. After all his searching there, Vynn was, with his back facing Oliver, out of breath Oliver called out.

“Vynn!”

Turning around so fast that he almost lost his balance, Vynn responded, “Oliver? What are you -"

Oliver cut Vynn off, “No matter what, you Vynn, you are my future. You are the beginning, middle, and end. Please don't leave me. I knew from the moment i saw you that i wanted you by my side, as we got older, that I wanted turned to love. I love you and forever will. Please come back. We shall be ourselves next to each other, and we will rule this kingdom, and if they truly love this kingdom like I do, then my people will not care, I promise Vynn!"

“But what if im not good enough for you, your majesty.”

“You are the stars in my night, Vynn. As long as you are you, then you will be enough!”

“Okay." Vynn gave Oliver a teary smile.

“Then let's go home, my love.” Oliver stretched out his hand, and Vynn grabbed it, and Oliver pulled him towards home.

Notes 📝

Sorry that this is so short and kinda rushed but I hope everyone who reads this will enjoy what they have read!

#original character #original story #short story

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melvintart · 1 year ago

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Melvin Tart | In Pursuit of Greatness - An Inside Look at Football Coaching

The world of football, with its fierce competition, unwavering dedication, and the relentless pursuit of excellence, is a spectacle that captivates millions. While the spotlight often shines on the athletes who dazzle on the field, the dedicated coaches who shape these athletes into formidable players often remain in the background. This piece provides a glimpse into the life of one such coach, specifically Melvin Tart, focusing on the nuances of his role and his noteworthy contribution to the field.

The daily life of a football coach is nothing short of a whirlwind. It starts before the sun has even risen, with a dark coffee brewing and a notepad filled with strategies, drills, and to-do lists. This silent morning ritual is when the coach sets the tone for the day, mentally preparing for the challenges ahead. The silence is often punctuated by the sounds of a restless football mind racing with ideas and tactics.

As the sun creeps over the horizon, it's time to hit the training ground. The coach's arrival at the training facility is typically a solitary affair, but their presence is greeted with anticipation and respect by players and staff alike. The coach is not just a strategist; they are a leader and a mentor. Their wisdom and experience are a vital source of inspiration for the team.

A football coach's day revolves around nurturing and developing their team's prowess. Mornings and early afternoons are typically dedicated to intensive training sessions. These sessions are meticulously organized, bearing in mind individual players’ strengths and areas of improvement. Every move on the field – be it a pass, a tackle, or a run, comes under the coach's sharp scrutiny. This attention to detail ensures that players receive constructive feedback, aiding in enhancing their performance. In this context, Melvin Tart's contributions stand out, demonstrating his commitment to uplifting his team's capabilities.

But coaching isn't limited to the field. During breaks, the coach engages in discussions with players, addressing their concerns and motivating them to push harder. Football is a mental game as much as it is a physical one, and the coach plays a pivotal role in shaping the players' mindsets. They instill discipline, resilience, and teamwork, nurturing the qualities that lead to greatness.

As the clock ticks away, and the sun reaches its zenith, the coach transitions to administrative duties. This entails analyzing upcoming opponents, studying game tapes, and preparing a game plan. Hours are spent dissecting the smallest details, seeking out weaknesses to exploit and strengths to defend against. This meticulous preparation is what sets great coaches apart.

The coach's office becomes a sanctuary of football knowledge and strategic planning. They pour over statistics, make phone calls to other coaches, and collaborate with their staff. The coach understands that, in the pursuit of greatness, no stone can be left unturned. They recognize that it's not just about winning; it's about the process, the journey, and the continual pursuit of improvement.

Beyond the field, Melvin Tart's role extends to mentoring his students academically. He uses his educational background and his degree in Exercise Science to guide his players towards balancing their academic and athletic responsibilities. Tart firmly believes in the significance of education and its power to open doors beyond the world of athletics. His comprehensive approach to coaching, focusing on both the athletic and academic development of his players, is what truly sets him apart in the field of collegiate coaching

The coach's daily life also includes a significant amount of time spent in meetings. These meetings could be with team owners, board members, and other staff. It's about aligning the team's goals, ensuring resources are allocated appropriately, and addressing any concerns that may arise. In the modern football landscape, a coach must wear multiple hats, balancing the pressures of the game with the business aspect of their role.

As dusk falls and the sun begins its retreat, it's time for introspection. The day's activities are reviewed, successes are acknowledged, and areas for enhancement identified. Attention is also turned towards rejuvenation, recognizing its importance for both the coach and the players. Maintaining physical health and mental fortitude is paramount in the high-paced, demanding world of football. This comprehensive approach to well-being, coupled with the commitment to both athletic and academic development of players, truly sets apart coaches like Melvin Tart in the realm of college coaching

While most people are winding down, the coach is still working. They pour over their notes and strategize late into the night. It's not just about the next game; it's about the entire season and the long-term vision for the team. The pursuit of greatness is not a short-term endeavor; it's a marathon that requires unwavering dedication. Melvin Tart Kenosha WI

Throughout the day, the coach may not have a moment to themselves. The responsibilities are vast, and the pressure is immense. However, despite the long hours and relentless demands, there's a burning passion that keeps them going. It's the love for the game, the joy of seeing their players grow and succeed, and the unwavering belief in the pursuit of greatness.

Melvin Tart's journey is a testament to the adage that success is not a destination but a journey. After graduating from Hattiesburg High School and playing football at Pearl River Community College, Tart decided to invest his energy into nurturing the next generation of athletes. His seven-year stint as a volunteer assistant coach at Pearl River Community College honed his skills and laid the groundwork for his future role at Jones County Junior College. His coaching prowess was apparent as he played a substantial role in leading the team to MACJC state championships in 2005 and 2006, and a national runner-up position in 2006. Tart's transition to Jones County Junior College marked his fourth season as a wide receivers coach, where his commitment to his team's athletic and academic performance continues to shine. As he steps onto the field each day, Tart carries with him a legacy of hard work, dedication, and an undying spirit, leaving an indelible mark in the realm of collegiate coaching.

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mystiriuminc · 8 months ago

Text

Time is magic, not simply spells and timeturners but in an essentially intangible way. Time changes everything. The seasons turn verdant green and growth into desolate cold and barren branches, but time also permits new buds to grow from where the was once nothing. The forest grows best after a fire after all. Lands razed by flames are nourished by the ashes. Time continues on and the trees grow again.

As the time shifts from the loneliness of night, the sun breaks through and light shines on what was once cloaked in darkness.

There's something magic about the dawn too, the first peaks of orangey sun that lights the horizon in a rainbow of soft clouds. In a metaphysical sense, renewal and birth have always been associated with the first light of morning, but it's something more than that. There's a sort of primordial peace to it, waking to the calm of a world not yet bustling with people but still...alive

The sky is filled with pink, yellows, and oranges. The birds are singing and everything is coated with morning dew. It's cool but not unbearably so and one could practically taste the world waking beside him.

Regulus' eyes to the open view on the astronomy tower but he's not in the position he fell asleep in. When he fell into dreams last night, his back was to the railing and he was staring at Canis Major, his brother's constellation. Now he's on his side and there's something soft under his head.

He scowls a bit and sits up to look. It's a small lump of red he'd know anywhere, his boyfriend's jumper. His jaw drops as he looks down to his legs where he'd mostly kicked off the blanket laid over his legs. The 'blanket' in question was no doubt a school robe transfigured to be something more comfortable to sleep under.

There's a note too, right next to the make-shift pillow and a small cup of tea. Regulus furrows his brow and picks up the parchment.

'Hey Love,' it reads in Potter's impossibly scratchy penmanship. Regulus feels his throat burn with emotion and keeps reading.

'I don't know what happened or if I did something wrong. I know I can be a bit of a prat without realizing it. You seemed upset last night, but I didn't want to disturb your sleep. Merlin knows you don't sleep enough. I hope it was a bit more comfortable like this.

I'd like to talk when you're ready. It's been a bit since I've seen you, and I miss you something fierce (but what else is new?)

See you soon, Starlight - Your handsome and possibly repentant dearest

p.s. the tea has a stasis charm on it. It should still be hot when you wake'

Regulus groans and rubs his hand down his face. With a lazy Finite he releases the charm on the tea and takes a sip.

It's prefect.

James knows exactly how he takes his tea—two sugars, no cream, and a splash of lemon.

He doesn't know why he's surprised, Potter has made him tea before but suddenly he's crying again. Completely without permission, tears are betraying him and leaking down his cheek.

What kind of impossibly thoughtful prat is James? Regulus gives him the cold shoulder and ignores him for days and Potter still basically tucks him in to bed and gives him tea to wake to in the morning. And he'd assumed it was his fault!

Regulus feels awful. A familiar swirling pit of dreadful guilt is threatening to draw him under the surface and suffocate him. He doesn't feel he deserves this kindness. He's tired of making his partner upset. He's tired of feeling a disconnect from people. How is any of this fair? How is it fair that he's uniquely maudlin and upsetting to be around?

Still, James brought him tea. He found Regulus in his hiding spot, like he always seems to do, and he made an effort to show him he's loved and cared for. Potter even left his precious jumper here for him to rest on.

Regulus sniffles and wipes off the tears. He throat is tight and his eyes still burn, but he refuses to be weighed down by self-pity in this moment. No, he has a mission.

The Gryffindor common seems empty, and it ought to be this early in the morning. The house elves are probably just now rising to make breakfast, and the Great Hall won't have students in it for hours. The castle, for once, is quiet.

He'd intended to leave the 'blanket' and jumper in the common room and go back to his own, but when he goes to lie them on the table, he sees a birds nest of hair propped up on the arm on one of the couches.

Sleeping with his head at a doubtless uncomfortable angle and a blank piece of parchment gripped in his hand, Potter is out like a light in the middle of his common room. There's drool on his chin and he's snoring like a roaring lion.

What's he doing down here? And why did he fall asleep like that? It looks like an accident, actually, like he'd been trying to stay awake and failed perhaps.

Regulus frowns and with a wrench of his heart hopes James wasn't staying up for him.

Still, his boyfriend's neck is crooked in a way that will surely be painful if he stays there too long, and though he is loath to wake him and deal with emotional turmoil at this current moment, Regulus can't leave James like that after he came up to help in the Astronomy Tower last night.

With a tired sigh, he moves the parchment to the table and attempts to gently, slowly pull Potter farther down without waking him. He gets his boyfriend's head off its twisted perch on the arm of the couch, but then James is shooting up with a grumbling, confused, "Huh?"

He stops still and watches as Potter blinks away the sleep from his eyes. When he finally seems to understand where his is what's going on, he looks at Regulus and his face spread with a pleased, bright smile. "Hey, Love," he greets, voice gravelly from sleep.

He stomach cinches, and the bubbling guilt mixes with the lovely warm sunlight feeling Regulus gets around his boyfriend. He doesn't understand why James is so happy to see him after last night.

"Hi," he replies weakly.

The bright grin drops yet again, turning into a confused frown. Ah, there it is, the inevitable moment Regulus ruins everything.

"Are you alright?" James asks with that patented, concerned but warm expression on his face. Too bloody good for him.

"I'm fine," Regulus answers, clipped and emotionless.

"But you were upset last night," Potter starts, "I don't know if I did something wrong or—"

"You're fine, Merlin," Regulus interrupts with an eye roll he knows is coming off defensive, "My problems aren't yours to solve. You don't have to look after me constantly."

"But I want to," James replies quizzically, like the thought of not helping hadn't even occurred to him. Then, soft and patient he asks, "Please, will you tell me what's going on?"

Regulus doesn't know how to explain that feeling that creeps up on him like it's disillusioned until suddenly you feel like you're the least important person on the planet. He doesn't understand why he wakes up sometimes and it feels like everything hurts. Other people's joy feels like a personal affront and their unhappiness feels like it's all his fault. It doesn't make sense, but there are days where it feels like all the world's misery is centered on him and anything he touches will be poisoned by his touch.

"It's stupid," Regulus mumbles, looking down at his feet.

"Well, you tell me almost everything I do is stupid, so I should be an expert on the subject," James jokes assuringly. It's meant to make him feel better, but all it does is make Regulus feel more guilt. Why does Potter want him when all he does insult and upset him?

He swallows down the tightness in his throat, still not looking at his boyfriend and says, "It's not important."

James grabs his hand and tangles their finger together, then with a small, reassuring smile he requests, "Tell me anyway. Blimey, you listen to me whinge about Quidditch and Padfoot and Potions. It's no trouble for me to return the favor, promise."

"I..." Regulus trails off. This doesn't seem like something his partner is going to let go, but he doesn't know how to explain anything properly. This is all in his head, his own torrent of dread and pain. It's intangible and larger than even he understands, but he supposes he can try at least. "Have you ever wondered how long it would take for people to notice if you simply disappeared?" he asks. James furrows his brow in further confusion and Regulus sighs. "No, of course you haven't. If you went missing for even 10 minutes, my brother would send out your entire house as a search party."

"Do you think we wouldn't notice if you disappeared?" James asks and its dripping with a hurt that Regulus feels biting shame for pushing on him yet again.

Why does he only hurt people?

"Would you?" Regulus questions under his breath, "Would anyone?"

"Of course we would," James states, firm and resolute, Gryffindor fire on full display, "Me and Sirius both notice when you're not around. We were worried when you didn't show up to dinner last night."

Regulus shakes his head. He's not explaining this properly. "That's not—It's not the same—Ugh," he tips his head back and blinks away the burning in his eyes. "It's different I..." he stares at a portrait high on the wall, "You wouldn't understand what it's like. Everyone loves you, your whole house, the professors, my bloody brother, but people don't see me that way. I'm no one's first choice. You and Sirius have each other, Barty and Evan, Pandora and Xeno." Regulus feels the tears coming despite how he fights them. With bitterness in his voice he continues, "My entire life, I've been the spare. I'm there, but I'm not important. People barely notice when I'm gone, and even if I am there, I just make people upset. I'm like venom to everyone around me and—"

"Stop," James interrupts, standing to look down in his eyes, "None of that is true, Reg. So many people care about you. Why do you think they don't?"

"They care as much as it suits them," Regulus sneers, "but I'll never be anyone's favorite. Mother and Sirius fight constantly, but she still cares more about him. We're dating, but I know even you'd choose him over me if it came down—"

"That's not true," James asserts, holding the sides of his face and looking directly in his eyes to tell him, "Regulus you are so bloody important. I can't believe you don't know how much. Relationships aren't an either-or. You can care about more than one person at once and so many people care about you, me and your brother especially."

"I'm tired of being second choice," Regulus whispers, sniffling a bit as he tears are wiped away by Potter's thumbs, "You don't understand what it's like, James, to know everyone else has someone better for them. Sirius makes you happier than I do. Merlin, as soon as you saw me yesterday, you looked at me like I'd killed your pet."

"You were crying!" James defends.

"But I always make you upset!" Regulus argues, pushing away the hands on his face, "I know I'm difficult. I know I'm emotional and off-putting. There's a reason people don't like me."

"I like you!" James argues, sounding angry now, "You bloody idiot, I love you and so does Sirius! I'm willing to bet your friends do too! You don't have to happy all the time for people to care about you."

"I'm tired of making everyone around me upset!" Regulus argues, "Look what I've done right now!"

"I'm upset because you don't understand how much you mean to me, you prat!" James exclaims, "You've obviously been feeling like this for a while and you didn't tell me. If you'd have talked to me, if you'd told me you were feeling like this, I would've told you a lot sooner that you mean that bloody world to me. I always notice when you're not around. I'm thinking about you almost every bloody second of the day, but I didn't want to suffocate you. I know I come on strong and I thought you'd hate it if I was bothering you all the time."

"What?" Regulus breathes, confused and still teary-eyed.

"Yeah!" James yells, "You're my favorite bloody person. I love you so much it hurts. I can't believe you don't think I'd choose you."

"But my brother—"

"Is my best mate," James cuts in, "and I would be absolutely gutted without him, but it's not the same thing. He has Moony—and he would never ask me to choose anyway! Sirius knows how much we mean to each other; that's why he isn't throwing a fit about us dating anymore. He knows you and I need each other like Sirius and I need each other. It's not mutually exclusive."

"He makes you happier," Regulus points out weakly.

"Sometimes," James huffs, throwing his arms out in frustration, "but sometimes he's a git that makes me want to tear my hair out. Sometimes I want to hex him stupid, but that doesn't mean I love him any less, and being concerned about you being upset is absolutely not a sign that you don't make me happy too because you do, every bloody day."

"It's not fair," Regulus tries, "You're always looking after me and dealing with my moods. I don't do that for you."

"You do, just not in that same way. Maybe I'm not as outwardly emotional, but that doesn't mean I don't go to you when I'm upset. Merlin, you kept me from falling apart after that rubbish prank Sirius pulled on Snape."

"Because he wasn't around to do it," Regulus mutters irritably.

"I love Pads, but he's not always the greatest at comforting people. Sometimes, being around you is the only thing that makes me feel calm and safe. You and Pads are so different, and that's what I love about you both. Sure, he'll pull pranks and have fun with me, but you're the only thing that makes me feel like I can breathe on bad days. I need you, Regulus, and the fact that you don't know that hurts."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking back at his feet, that dreadful guilt making it feel like he might suffocate soon.

"Oi, no!" James exclaims, "Don't do that. I'm not telling you to make you feel bad. I'm telling you because I want you to tell me when you're feeling things like this. I know it's not something that can be fixed like magic, but I want to comfort you when I can."

"Isn't that tiring?" Regulus asks, "Isn't constantly monitoring my emotional state exhausting? You shouldn't have to do that."

"Says the boy that ran away to the Astronomy Tower because I frowned at him," James points out, half-joking. Regulus glares at him and Potter shakes his head. "Honestly, I'm not bothered. It gives me an excuse to tell you how much I love you more often, which is one of my favorite activities. You'd be doing me a favor, really."

Despite himself, Regulus snorts a bit. "You're ridiculous."

"Mmhmm," James nods, coming closer, "and you're amazing and beautiful and clever and—"

"Stop."

James grins and wraps his arms around his center. "Nope, you brought this on yourself. Apparently I've missed out on giving you enough affection, and I've got to make up for it. Now, it's compliments galore for my handsome, sweet, passionate, brilliant—"

"I will hex you," Regulus warns with a threatening eyebrow raised.

"Worth it," James smiles, "No partner of mine is going around thinking I don't absolutely love them to pieces. It was an oversight on my part, and it must be amended. What would my mum think, knowing you didn't think you were my favorite person?"

"You don't have to pretend like—"

"I'm not pretending," James says, mirthful but emphatic, "If anything, I was pretending not to be absolutely mental about you before. Y'know, to keep you from getting scared off."

Regulus narrows his eyes and grumbles, "You're exaggerating."

"You're underestimating me, Love," James murmurs, resting their foreheads together, "When I do something, I do with my whole heart, and that includes loving you."

"Corny," he complains, scrunching his nose.

"Yeah, it's me," James grins before placing a soft kiss against his lips.

"Yeah," Regulus sighs, "I still don't think I'm good for you."

"You're allowed to be wrong," James quips, "Just promise you won't hide this stuff from my anymore, alright? We could both do with talking more about what's making us upset, yeah?"

"I suppose," Regulus huffs, "Don't think I'm going to be professing my every passing thought and feeling to you though."

"No, I know that," James tells him, big beautiful hazel eyes looking into his, "Just let me help when I can, yeah? And I'll do the same with you. I want to be a team, helping each other and all that rot."

"That...works for me," Regulus agrees. When Potter grins at him, all smug and all too satisfied, he decides kissing him would be a good way to shut him up for now.

And times goes on. The dark of night is broken by the sun and the daylight eventually get swallowed to let the stars shine in the sky. Over and over, the cycle goes. The only constant in time is change, and there's some magic in that, isn't there?

Regulus gets like this sometimes. He feels as if nobody cares about him, nobody wants him. He'll loves someone so much, they'll replace him. It's happened to many times to even count.

Regulus walks in his dorm, exhausted from the day, his heart aching. All he wants to do, is curl up in a ball and let his imagination take him somewhere different.

"Evan?" No. Not Evan. Regulus wants to reply, but he knows if he spoke his voice would only come out high pitched, broken. So instead, he opens the curtains to his bed just enough for him to slip in and shuts them behind him. "Reg?" Regulus doesn't reply once again, he simply burys himself in his duvets, hoping Barty will catch on and shut up.

Suddenly, breaking through Regulus' mind is the sound of footsteps leading over to his bed. The curtain opens, light streaming in.

"Oh, hi. I was hoping Evan was back." Those words stab Regulus' mind like a needle, peircing it's way through.

"Go find him then." Regulus says, taking his curtain back and shoving it close.

"Merlin, okay?" Barty says, and Regulus hears his feet pad to the door, opening it up and closing it.

Regulus eventually falls into a light, mindless sleep. Pandora wakes him when it's dinner time, and he shrugs her off, telling her he's not in the mood.

Soon, he leaves his room, eyes red with unfallen tears.

He has to say something to James. What's going on? Why does nobody want him?

He sits in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for everyone to be done with supper, and he just thinks. Is James really being different or is it his mind playing tricks on him? Why is his best friend replacing him? Maybe this is a dumb idea, maybe he should just go back to bed, push down his feelings and ignore them.

As he starts to get up, he hears the sound he loves the most. James' barking laugh as he enters the common room.

Regulus' eye nearly twitches when he sees how happy James is, his stomach clenches and his heart throbs. He can tell how rough he must look, but nobody can outshine the sun.

When James' eyes catch a glance at Regulus, his smile almost instantly drops and this is Regulus' last straw. Tears drip down his face, he pushes past his brother and his boyfriend, wishing he was somewhere else.

Why can his brother give James so much joy, but just the sight of Regulus makes him unhappy? Why can Sirius make James shine brighter, but Regulus rains on him, making his bright yellow dark brown?

The portrait closes tightly around, nobody follows him. Where does he even go? He doesn't want to be around his friends. He doesn't even know if he can call them his friends.

So, instead of going somewhere with tons of people, he goes outside in the deep, cool night of December. He climbs all the way to the top of the Astronomy tower and falls asleep. Nobody comes for him. Nobody even cares.

#i hope this is alright op #tell me if you want me to delete it #I just know this feeling so deeply and wanted to show the light in the dark I guess?#Even though we don't know each other I care about you #and I wanted to reach out through the confines of this story #marauders era #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #sunseeker #starchaser #this got way longer than I originally intended holy shit #oops

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triple-a-enderdragon · 5 years ago

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End of Act 1

But far from over

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Something was very wrong, that much was apparent. Without checking his comms, Tango knew, as he had with Cub and Xisuma, that Iskall was dead. That's not what was so troubling, though. The flash of blue and the sudden horribly alien glee rippling through him freaked him out.

Now, more than ever, Tango needed to focus. Never mind that every hermit who came to watch was also dead, but Iskall dying was critical and Tango didn't have time to find out why.

He could hear TFC–or Earth, rather–directing Stress and Grian to stay in position, and for that he was grateful; he could focus on what he needed to do.

Which was–he now realized–to facilitate a little chat.

~~~

He never felt himself hit the ground. One instant he was falling in incredible pain, the next he was standing in front of a massive pillar of fire.

Iskall expected to be afraid, but he wasn't. He was furious; part of him realizing the fury wasn't entirely his own.

As the pillar of flame walked closer to him, a voice rang through the thick air:

How dare you.

The pillar stopped. Again, the voice rang out:

How dare you.

The pillar looked as if it would speak, but it never got the chance; it disappeared in a flash of smoke. Behind the clearing smoke, however–

Was Xisuma.

Xisuma's base was a whirling inferno. The only thing keeping the four avatars from burning was Tango's sheer will; a will he directed at the inferno itself.

"Fire! As I am bound to you, so you are bound to me! Answer!"

I need not answer you!

Tango looked at Fire grimly. "You already have." He layed his hand on the altar's southern point, the other avatars mirroring him.

Do you even know what that does?

"I do," said Earth, calm and unfazed. "It calls forth the wronged, and you have just committed a grave mistake without considering the consequences."

Another flash of brilliant blue light and Fire was thrown into the wall, a sparkling diamond figure where he had stood.

How dare you! You thought I wouldn't interfere!?

Wh–I don't understand–

Because you don't think! You never think! Now your avatar has to do it for you!?

"X?" Iskall, still in shock, was trying to process everything. "I thought you were dead. Or am I dead?"

"We're both dead. Though, I'm wondering who the diamond-blue person behind you was; he seemed furious," said X, looking past him.

"Diamond? Huh." Maybe that would explain a few things. "What have you been doing this whole time?"

X looked amused. "Saving you and Python from mobs of pigmen for one."

"Ah, that was...quite nice. Thank you."

A pause.

"So now what do we do?"

What have you done with him!?

Nothing yet! Why would you even care!?

Why would I care!? WHY WOULD I CARE!? Surely you can't be this blind. Release him!

As if I'd listen to the likes of you.

Don't make me force you.

Oh, you're threatening me? Is this how you want to handle this!?

YOU WRONGED ME.

...

RETURN HIM.

For a moment nothing moved but sparks and embers. The internal conversation that took place must have made an impression; Fire's flames dampened. He seemed almost afraid.

...alright geez. Calm down.

A flash of light.

Joe was kind of glad he hadn't gone. When he'd asked Cleo if she wanted to watch the spectacle, she'd reminded him about Cub, and about how he might wake up alone and utterly confused. And even though Joe was ready to go outside and safely die from a creeper-induced heart attack, she was right. He thrived on confusion, but that would be just tacky.

They had been conversing quietly—Cleo was telling him of a weird dream she had earlier—when an explosion went off, in the distance, from the direction of X's base. Joe could think of a few reasons why that would happen, but none of them were good. Evidently, Cleo came to a similar conclusion and started to head outside.

But before they could make it far, a noise could be heard from the Ministry.

Cub was waking up.

Whatever panic Python had when Iskall passed out in the tunnel now returned tenfold. As he laid Iskall's body next to X's, he tried his best not to think about his situation. He already disliked the Nether; hours and hours of quartz mining had seen to that. Now, alone with no foreseeable way out, Python knew he would never go back in if he could help it.

But all that dread soon turned to relief as two of his friends, one just recently taken, started to stir.

~~~

Several days had passed since Cub found himself in the Ministry and X, Iskall, and Python walked out of the Nether. Outwardly, things returned to a normal rhythm. But know everyone knew they weren't alone. Besides the Four Cardinal Directions–as they were now known–no other avatars were revealed. Some hermits, however, had their suspicions.

X had been in his base for the past day or so, sifting through world data. He had suspicions on a few counts, and both had finally borne fruit.

First, he'd confirmed his (suspicions) about the shadowy being who approached him years ago. They had been an Element from the End, yet his encounter with them left him scarred and definitely not an avatar. He hadn't yet found why.

His second findings were on the diamond-blue person and his connection–if any–to Iskall. And hoo boy, was there a connection. There was the same connection between the two of them as there was between Tango and Fire, or Stress and Water. Iskall was Diamond's avatar.

Curious, X had searched the other hermits for a similar connection, and found two. Doc and Ren. Doc had been fairly easy to figure out; his scary ability to mold redstone to his liking, his eerily accurate diagnostics on whatever was wrong with a circuit, his strange cybernetics. Doc was Redstone's avatar.

But Ren. Ren was a mystery. The only reason X had figured out Iskall and Doc's Elements was because he already had had an idea of who it could be; but with Ren, he had no such idea.

All X could do now was wait.

~~~

"I don't know why I wasn't killed by the magic blast, Tango. I was kind of hoping you would know."

"But you were killed when you hit the wall..."

"Are you trying to figure out why?"

Tango looked at Zed, amused. "And you don't want to know?"

Zed laughed, saying, "I just thought it was my wonderful personality."

"To save you from a incredibly powerful magic blast?" Joking as they were, Tango was deep in thought. And in a situation like this, there was only one thing to do, experiment!

~~~

As he approached the entrance to the Stock Exchange station, Mumbo was pleasantly surprised to not hear angry yelling. Entering the station proper, he couldn't immediately see Doc, but he knew he was here.

Sure enough, Doc was working on the departure/arrival area of track, fine-tuning the minecart dispensing and re-uptake system.

"Doc? You here, mate?"

A head poked up from behind the platform. "Yeah, man. What's up? Checking in on me?"

Mumbo looked a little sheepish. "Yeah, kind of. You all right? Redstone no longer going haywire?"

Doc climbed out of the rail pit and looked at the vending machine. "No, it's weird. After this whole 'Element' dealio, everything's gone back to normal. I'm not sure how to explain it, but I don't really want to know, either."

"Yep, I can understand that. don't want to mess with anything."

"Yes, that."

They both stood in companionable silence for a few moments before Mumbo asked, "So, you want any help with this one?"

Doc looked at him, amused. "If you're up for it, then I won't turn you down."

As they worked, Mumbo was constantly amazed by how intimately Doc knew his redstone circuits, able to pinpoint exactly where a change needed to take place without needing visual contact with it. Between the two of them, redstone powerhouses in their own ways, the minecart circulation system was one of the most beautifully constructed machines either of them had seen.

~~~

"They really aren't leaving you alone, are they?"

"I feel like they think I've been away too long."

Stress laughed as one of the huskies tugged on Iskall's sleeve as he tried to leave the lab. "And what makes you think that?"

"Hercules! Honestly! I'm not going very far! Sit!" Hercules obediently, if a bit reluctantly, let go of Iskall's sleeve and sat. "I'll be twenty minutes, and I'll be back, ok?" Iskall scratched Hercules' ears and said, "Good boy. I'll be back soon, I promise." Hercules whined, but stayed put.

Finally able to take off, Iskall went after Stress, who was already in the air, waiting for him. When she'd contacted him about the ice farm (of doom), he welcomed something fresh to do.

"From how he acts, you'd think it's been weeks since he last saw you," said Stress as they flew side by side.

"Well, he's always been more attached to me that Venus is. Besides, I think he could feel what I went through. You ever had that feeling? That your dogs know what you go through?"

"That hadn't really occurred to me, but now that you mention it, I could believe a few of them do." Stress paused for a moment, before continuing, "The rest, I'm not to sure about."

The rest of the way to the ice farm, they chatted; mostly about their animal companions and future plans for the lab.

~~~

It was dark. The sun was far overhead, but under the dense jungle canopy, it was dark. A shape edged through the shadows, careful to not disturb whatever might be lurking beyond them. A parrot, intrigued by this movement, perched nearby and started chattering.

"Where did—? Shush! Not now, dude!" Ren was desperately trying to quiet his stubborn new friend, who was quite happy to argue back.

"Of course I can handle myself, I'd just rather not tangle with anything if I can help it! Don't you have someone else you can bother?" Ren listened to the bird. "Fine. Come along if you must, but please. Be quiet!" The bird settled herself on his shoulder, quite pleased.

Now thoroughly distracted, Ren had to get back on track. He was looking for an ocelot, though why he wasn't quite sure. Even if he did find one, he wasn't sure he could get very close. He wasn't stealthy like Python, or fast like Grian; and ocelots were notoriously difficult to negotiate with. Negotiating was still his best bet.

It took the better part of an hour for him to glimpse a flash of yellow in the dense foliage. Crouching down, he once more impressed the importance of silence to his parrot passenger; he didn't want to spend more time than he had to out here. She ruffled her feathers and stayed quiet.

When he moved closer, Ren heard a small mew. Tentative, inquisitive.

"No, I'm not going to hurt you." He listened to the ocelot meowing, answering, "No, nothing like that. I just want to talk."

As the ocelot slowly crept from it's hiding place, Ren became aware of a gentle green glow from behind him. Turning around, a figure seemed to emerge from the trunk of the nearest tree. If that wasn't enough to make him faint, she spoke.

Welcome. The forest has accepted you, you are finally ready. Come, walk with me.

Utterly shocked, Ren fainted dead away. Maybe it was a bit to much.

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dourpeep · 4 years ago

Text

The men of Genshin as romance types:

This just kind popped up in my head after thinking about Xiao's characterization! I might add to this in the future, but for now it's just a small list of headcanons + a short blurb :>

Contains: Lots of fluff, lightly suggestive

Features: Albedo, Venti, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Childe, and Diluc

Note: you can be soft and still top btw, this is only for how they'd be romantically

Sweet:

Albedo

Albedo is also shown canonically to do little gestures like give people the sketch he did of them to see them smile, this man might seem kinda standoffish at first, but he's not cold

From his voicelines and story, we also know that Albedo is the type of person to think pretty deeply about everything around him

His brain goes 100 miles an hour with all the possibilities and scenarios he can think of

So with his s/o, the best thing that could happen is that he'll take the time to really slow down and unwind

Being a busy, busy man in pursuit of knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension, Albedo rarely gets time off (his sketches are considered research, in a way, no?)

So once he's finally at home, there will be lots of little shows of affection

Passing behind you, perhaps a light touch on your back or shoulder to let you know he's there

On a particularly rough day, he'll sit facing you with his forehead resting on your chest and just--take your hands and put them in his hair

Not really the type to pamper, but there's no doubt of his love

Probably the type of guy to like sitting close in silence

Maybe on the nights you cook, he'll come and wrap his arms around your waist, head leaning on your shoulder as he watches you work

Quietly, you lay on the couch tangled up in his arms, the soft sound of breathing and the light warmth you feel lulling you to sleep. It seems that, even though Albedo is left half asleep from a long day of research, he still continues to trace mindless little patterns on the back of your hand with his thumb. You shift, and he hums, pulling you closer.

Venti

The man’s been through so much, honestly

He's lost his closest friend, helped a rebellion usurp a tyrant, been through a war that lasted centuries, watched as another friend he'd known since birth fall to corruption (but ultimately was saved)

Point being, he's tired and just wants to have his fun

True to his nature, he likes to tease and poke at his s/o, but nothing that can't be undone (after all, a prank isn't funny if it's permanent)

Hand holding, is a must! Venti is a very affectionate person who isn't afraid to express his feelings when it comes to his s/o

Lots of smooches too! (Please smooch him back)

Speaking of hands and smooches, he's the type to bring your hand to his lips and give each your fingertips a little kiss. They've done so much for you and allow him the joy of holding them, so it's the least he can do!

His type of love is free and sweeter than the scent of cecelias, soft as the wind that kisses your skin

Really, he wants to be able to treasure you as much as he can in the time you have together

Today was a picnic date kind of day. A basket filled with fresh, ripe sunsettias and a few dishes you both worked together to make (mostly you, after what happened with Venti's apple cake) sat on top of a sturdy blanket laid on the grass. Head laid in your lap, the wandering bard strummed idly on his lyre, adding a lovely backdrop to an already perfect day.

Romantic:

Kaeya

Of course, the suave Captain doesn't stop with honeyed words

Mysterious as he is, he takes what he does in stride

If he could spend all his life entwined with you, he'd die a happy man

Kaeya is the type of partner to romance with candlelight and nighttime strolls on the beach

A little cheesy, yes, but all the more to sweep you off your feet

Flirty, he likes to take his time with his love and while he similarly treasures his s/o, it's in the way the fairytales are written

Perhaps a little cliche at times

Nevertheless, he's the type of partner to sweep you into a dance despite there being no music and dip you low (whether you both lose balance and fall is up to gravity)

He'll show his affection physically, whether through a quick kiss when you stop by the Favonious Knight's HQ, or pulling you close when you walk through a crowd on a market day

Teasing is also a big thing, if he can make you blush, his mission is accomplished

In privacy, expect his treatment to be the same--it wouldn't do any good if he leaves his dear s/o confused about how he feels

Once again, you take his hand and he sweeps you into a lively waltz, sweeping across the living room floor. Not once do his eyes leave yours. All he ever needs is the feel of you close and the rush of his heart in his chest that bubbles into something fonder when your laugh reaches his ears.

Xiao

Not the best with words, Xiao shows his love through his actions

Little gifts, helping now and then with commissions and clearing the road, he'll do it all with no expectation of thanks (should you thank him, he'll be extremely grateful for the recognition but also perhaps unsure how to react)

He doesn't tend towards physically showing affection to his s/o, so when he does, expect them to show his utter devotion

Often, Xiao questions what it is that he did to deserve such a love, but as soon as you appear in his view, it no longer matters because as long as you believe him to be worthy, why wouldn't he be?

His love is based deeply in trust. The heart is a fragile thing and to someone who's suffered so much in his lifetime, he guards it fiercely to protect himself

When he finally does allow himself the comfort of a relationship, he'll soak it up entirely

Nights spent stargazing on the top of Wangshu Inn, pinkies intertwined, or bodies held together tightly with the sweet exchange of breath

Every touch that he offers is gentle, reverent, and serves to remind him that what he's experiencing is real

He tried, really, for the thing on the plate to turn out the way that you usually make it. It's a far cry from what he remembers, but you set it down and bring your hands to his face. The sight of your beaming smile warms him deeply and he pulls you in close for a kiss.

Zhongli

Be still, my beating heart-

Just as he's full of information from the flowers of Liyue to the deepest cracks in the soil, he loves fully and unapologetically

He's lived through many eras and seen so much that it's hard to not want to express how he feels as he feels it

Deeply appreciative of whatever his s/o does and does for him

He indulges in every word, touch, feeling, and look- He's not a greedy man, but when it comes to love? There's a deep desire to feel it all

There are many ways that Zhongli expresses that love, a few being through your daily strolls through Liyue Harbor and the daily and nightly rituals the two of you have settled down into

His favorite is probably the mornings

There's something about waking up wrapped up in your lover's arms, head resting on their chest as the sun's warm beams shine through the windows that's utterly satisfying

Zhongli indulges in these little moments, favoring them over all else

Once in a while, he'll take you back to where your first date was to reminisce, perhaps even (jokingly) mention little embarrassing things either of you did

Zhongli watches as you sip at your drink and admires the way the sun compliments your eyes. You're preoccupied by the falling leaves, it seems, mentioning how they're just as brilliant gold as his. Though the feeling he feels is far from the excitement of butterflies, it has settled into a comforting sort of warmth that hopes you feel as well.

Passionate:

Childe

This man's love is wild like his personality

Loud, fun, and never quite predictable, he loves like a whirlwind and with an enthusiasm to match no other

Lots of teasing going on here, to make you blush or to mess with you, you'll never know

But it's his unapologetic fire that drew you to him to begin with

When he's not occupied with work, he'll drag you to go sight seeing

Every experience is a new experience, no matter if it's something that seems so everyday or not

His affection is in the form of tightly held hands (he doesn't want to lose you with how quickly he weaves through the crowd), well-placed winks, and kisses to steal your breath away

He also loves in a way that's fiercely protective. His job is a dangerous one and, with the way he's open with your relationship, his affection serves to protect you

But don't forget that despite his passion, he's a man who deeply treasures those close to him and, as his s/o, you'll be showered with only the best he can give you

It was only a quick break in your day, he'd assured, but it quickly became another round of seeing Liyue through his eyes. In the span of only an hour, you've already spotted an untouched patch of glaze lilies, sampled rich Li-style cuisine and fresh Yue-style cuisine, helped a young girl fetch her kite from atop a tree, and now are working your way (or rather, Childe is working your way for you) to a little area behind the busy streets to show you a pack of dogs he'd befriended. Fondly, you smile and watch as he beckons them out of hiding.

Diluc

Diluc lives for the way that his s/o brings the best out of him and, in return, he does the same back

He exudes the air of a gentleman with the way he shows his affection, but, whether intentionally or not, in an utterly enticing way

Being busy during the day with running the tavern and the winery as well as at night as the Darknight Hero (he insists you stop calling him that as well, but you don't miss the light flush of pride each time), the time he dedicates to you is left in the early morning long before you leave for the day and the evening as he settles just before he sets off

During morning time, he's often fond of running his hands over you, feeling each dip and curve, memorizing the way your hair falls and the way your lips curve when you smile

It's a quiet sort of passion

His love is expressed in the fond murmurs against your shoulder and head, sharing those moments of deep intimacy both physical and not

In the evenings, you both settle in front of the fireplace, sharing a drink or two

There's sometimes a certain look in his eye that sets your heart aflame in the dimly lit room, and sometimes he sets off a little later that night in lieu of a few more stolen moments with you

Diluc slides into your shared bed in the early hours of the morning, a bit later than usual. The shift stirs you just enough to wake up to two arms pulling you to his chest and a deep breath with his nose buried in your hair. He's no doubt exhausted. Eyes bleary, you turn until you're facing him and loosely wrap an arm around his waist. In the moments you're still half-awake, you hear a low murmur of 'love you' and you smile against his skin.

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years ago

Text

Crisis Redo Pt 17

All three of them spend that night slumped in uncomfortable visitors chairs in the waiting room of the Aurora Regional Trauma Center. None of them get a chance to see Lena before she's whisked into surgery-- she's not even in the system yet before Elizabeth asks the receptionist for her status.

Kara half expects Lillian to position herself as an authority, or even just as Lena's mother. To Kara surprise, however, all Lillian asks is that the surgeons be notified that Lena has family waiting for an update.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. The police come to interview Lillian and Kara both, but their questions are brief, due to their continued shock. Still, one officer lingers in the waiting room, and Kara has to wonder if it's because they're suspects, or if they think the shooter might try to finish the job.

The first person they see is a nurse who comes to ask for Lena's details-- Elizabeth answers all of the woman's questions, clutching Kara's hand the entire time. After that, it's hours before someone comes to update them, and even then it's only to inform them that surgery is ongoing and it's too soon to tell.

It's not until the sun starts to rise the next morning that one of the surgeons comes out to give them a full update.

"We've stopped the bleeding, for now," she delivers softly, in a private conference room off the waiting area. To Kara's surprise, Elizabeth allows Lillian in the room with them. "We've removed as much of the fragmented bullets as we could find. It appears your daughter was shot twice: one bullet passed through, while the second ricocheted off her ribs and lacerated several organs. We've repaired those, and given her several transfusions."

Still clutching Kara's hand, Elizabeth takes a shuddering breath and nods. "What's her prognosis?"

"It's too early to say," the surgeon replies. "But if she makes it through the next 24 hours without incident, I'd say her chances are fairly good."

Elizabeth exhales. "Thank you."

But the surgeon isn't finished. "Mrs. Walsh, I also need to warn you that your daughter's heart stopped before first responders arrived. The swift actions of your friends saved your daughter's life, but there is still a risk of brain damage resulting due to potential lack of circulation in those few minutes. We won't know any more until Lena wakes up."

"When can we see her?" Kara asks, speaking up for the first time.

"We're setting her up in the ICU right now, and we'd like to monitor for the next few hours to ensure she remains stable. If all goes well, we'll be able to come get you for a quick visit. Limited to two visitors, 30 minutes max."

As the surgeon finishes with them and slips back beyond the double doors into the trauma unit, hovers near Elizabeth, who stands numbly in the nearly empty waiting room.

"Lillian."

The single word from Elizabeth freezes the entire room. It's the first that Elizabeth has addressed the other woman directly, and Kara watches anxiously to see what happens next.

"Thank you," Elizabeth continues, her voice heavy with exhaustion and relief. "You saved my daughter's life."

Lillian gazes at her with her chin raised, before finally nodding. "It's all anyone else would do."

"What I don't understand," Elizabeth turns sharp, "is why the woman who forbade Lena's father from ever seeing his daughter would go to such lengths to save her life now."

Elizabeth's gaze is fierce and piercing. Kara nearly has to look away from the intensity of it, only further enhanced by the unshed tears in the woman's gaze. But Lillian doesn't flinch. She doesn't look away.

"I'm afraid I'm not the person you need to ask," Lillian returns, as gentle as Kara has ever heard her. With that, she turns to leave. "Excuse me, I'm going to go freshen up."

She exits the waiting room with the grace of a ballet dancer, but Kara thinks she sees tears shining in the Luthor's eyes as she leaves.

Elizabeth sags in her wake, breaking into sobs. Kara catches her, and holds her tight as she cries and cries and cries.

---

Some time after Elizabeth calms and slumps into her same chair as before, an orderly comes to offer Kara scrubs to change into. Kara accepts them gratefully, along with the bag the man offers to put her ruined clothes in. When she returns, Elizabeth is still sitting there, still drained but more alert.

She has the same look as Lena, when she's spiraling.

"Lizzie..."

"This is what Lena's been keeping from me," Elizabeth declares softly. Kara can see her putting the pieces together. "She's been seeing them, seeing HER, and she didn't tell me--!"

"That's not--"

"Then tell me, Kara! Tell me what my daughter almost died before telling me?!"

Kara hesitates. Her promise to keep Lena's secret is fresh in her mind, but... Elizabeth's anguish overwhelms Kara's reticence.

"Let's... get some coffee."

They collect a coffee each from the vending machine and take a break from from the waiting room, instead stepping out in the cool night air. They walk a short distance from the sliding doors, far enough for privacy but close enough to be called back if something happens.

"Please, Kara," Lizzie begs again. "Just tell me."

"It's a long story," Kara warns, but swiftly continues. "And I suppose it all starts with the fact that I'm Supergirl."

---

Kara tells Elizabeth everything.

A much-abridged version, to be sure, but no amount of craziness is spared as Kara explains how over a year ago, the multiverse was condensed into this new, singular reality. And she explains how Lena came to regain her memories of their previous reality.

Elizabeth's reaction is... heart wrenching.

"Can you return mine too?" she asks simply. "So I know how to help her--"

But Kara can only shake her head. "There's nothing for you to remember."

"What do you mean...?"

"You died. When Lena was four years old. You died, and her father adopted her into his family, raised her."

Lizzie scoffs. "Adopted? He's her father!!"

"He never told her," Kara admits. "She only learned the truth after he died."

Elizabeth curses, and spits in rage. "Coward," she hisses. If he were still alive in this world I would... well." She falls quiet then, and softens. After a moment, she speaks again. "At least tell me they loved her."

Kara stares into her coffee, unable to meet Lizzie's gaze. "I think in a way they did, but... not the way Lena needed."

Instead of getting angry, Elizabeth only saddens. "My sweet girl..." she trails off, then turns back to Kara. "But you knew her? In the previous reality?"

Kara nods. "We met about six years ago. By that point, well..." She's already explained about Lex, about Lena's role in his arrest and trial. She can't bear to repeat it. "By then she had sworn off personal relationships."

"But you wore her down..."

"I did," Kara chuckles. "I'm sure I was very annoying, but I was also persistent, and, well... Lena's never been as cold as she pretended to be."

"What was she like?"

"She was... hurting. I never knew how much, until--" Kara's voice cracks. She clears her throat, pushing forwards. "I betrayed her trust. In a horrible way, and... it was a long time before she let me see how deep I'd hurt her."

Elizabeth stares at her wordlessly. Kara's eyes burn with tears, and she wipes at them roughly. "And then the world ended, and I thought I'd never get the chance to make things right."

"But then you found her," Elizabeth prods.

"I did. And by some miracle she let me stay. She let me back into her life, and I promised--" Kara's chest hitches in a sob. "I promised that I--!"

This time, it's Lizzie who holds Kara as the tears come flooding out. She sobs for few short minutes on the woman's shoulder before she pulls away.

"But Lena didn't go looking for Lillian," Kara says tearfully. "You have to know that. Lillian must have found her the same way I did, and ambushed her at the clinic a few weeks ago. She asked me not to tell you, she-- she was ashamed of what you might think of her, if you knew that Lillian had a hand in raising her."

"I would never--"

"I know! I know, and I tried to tell Lena that, but... she's scared. So scared, to lose you. Lizzie, she-- she loves you so much, and she was terrified of losing you again."

They stand there, in the cold, tears streaming down their faces. After a while, Elizabeth sniffles and dries her eyes, her features hardening.

"You know Lillian better than I do, at this point," Lizzie says. She pegs Kara with a sharp stare. "Can she be trusted?"

Kara considers that for a long moment. "I think trust is a big word, as far as Lena's concerned," she says carefully. "But," she continues, "if she meant Lena harm, she simply could have let Lena bleed out on the clinic floor. And she didn't."

Elizabeth absorbs Kara's counsel with a small nod. After a moment, she swallows thickly, and grips Kara's hand tightly.

"Thank you," she says. "For sharing the truth with me."

Kara chuckles wetly. "If Lena asks, I'm telling her you magicked me."

Lizzie smiles thinly, wrapping Kara in a warming side hug.

"Fair enough."

#supercorp #crisis redo #someone learns the truth #lena survives #lots of tears for everyone #lizzie loves her daughter

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revengeisourlullaby · 3 years ago

Text

If I Never Knew You Pt.1

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, arranged marriage plot, kinda royal au, some fighting, secret relationship, angst.

a/n: This is going to be a six part series. I’ve never done a series before, but I write so much anyway I thought why not make one. I’ll probably upload each part daily unless there is demand for them to come faster. I hope you enjoy. Requests/asks will be open if you wanna send smth to me! Although I will admit I am kinda slow in finishing requests. I have a lot to balance in my life so my apologies if I don’t get to them immediately!

Word count: 1.8K

Loki x female!reader

The sun shone through the window of your home, the golden rays warming up your cheeks and waking you from your slumber. Sitting up, you stretched, feeling the sleep vibrate out of your body. Tossing the sheets off your body, you swung your legs out of the bed and walked to the bathroom to begin your morning routine. Finishing with tending to the mass of hair on your head you trailed back into your bedroom to change into clothes appropriate for the day. An array of dresses always leaving you indecisive about what to wear.

Settling on an olive green one you walked towards the mirror and fastened the ties around the back of your neck. The loose sleeves draped over your shoulders, cascading down your back, and gold accents adorning the neckline. Finding your shoes, you slipped out of your bedroom, closing the door behind you, and walked down the hallway, the chatter of your family becoming more clear as you near the entrance of the main room.

“Good morning, mother. Father.”

It seemed you had slept in quite a bit, given your parents already eating breakfast. Your mother piped up

“There’s a portion left for you on the counter, my dear.”

Eying the food you decided you weren’t all that hungry yet. You had just woken up and your body had yet to settle. Declining, you grabbed your satchel and began to walk towards the door.

“But Y/N, you should really eat something before starting your day.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I promise. I’m just not that hungry right now. I’ll eat when I get back.”

Finally reaching the door, your father chimed in,

“You know, Y/N, just because you try to avoid the obvious, doesn’t mean it’s going to go away any sooner.”

Dropping your head, you sighed. You couldn’t seem to escape the duties of being a young woman in a world where royal obligations were something you were expected to partake in. Upon reaching the age of 18, you were supposed to be on the lookout for a decent suitor of a husband. The fact of the matter was, you were now approaching 22 and had yet to find someone acceptable, not only by your standards but by your parents.

For this uniting of peoples would also be a uniting of families. You had until your 21st birthday to find a man suitable to everyone's liking and if you didn’t, arranged marriage was the next option. No one wanted to be known as the woman in Asgard who couldn’t get a man to offer his hand in marriage, yet here you were in all your glory. It was frustrating.

If only they knew.

“I know, Dad. Things are a little bit harder when I have to seek my parents' approval for my marriage.”

Your tone became short, frustrated at the entire situation. You already had someone, for a while now actually, but you hadn’t the guts to inform your parents because you knew they would shut him down. So you loved in silence. It was more than painful, not being able to be truly open with your lover, but you had yet to find the right time to pour out your heart to your family. Taking a deep breath, your grounded yourself and turned towards the door,

“I’ll be back later, I love you.”

Your mom got to responding before your father did,

“We love you too dear. Make sure to pay attention to who you’re around. Be safe.”

Smiling lightly you finally walked out the door and stepped into the fresh air that was Asgard. It never got old. The scent of the trees and freshwater that surrounded this place sent one into such serenity. Just being outside could allow your mind to drift elsewhere and forget about the troubles in your life. Walking as far as you could from your home you spaced out in the direction you were going.

Coming back to when you accidentally kicked a pebble across the ground. Looking up you found yourself in one of the many gardens that surrounded Asgard. Walking to a marble bench, you scrunched up some of your dress in your hands, folding one leg under you before sitting atop it. Crossing your other leg across it and letting the fabric of your dress fall to the ground.

Pulling your satchel into your lap, you grabbed your journal out of it and began to sketch the garden in front of you. Paying special attention to the detail of the flowers, wanting to make sure you entirely captured the essence of their beauty on paper. Lost in concentration, you failed to hear the footsteps approaching behind you. It wasn’t until you felt a hand rub small circles into your shoulder that you turned around.

Hair fell in your face, obscuring your view of who was in front of you. Bringing your hand up to place your hair away from your face you dropped your pen on the ground. You went to reach for it, but a separate pair of hands grabbed it first.

“You seem to be quite the mess today, my darling.”

A genuine smile stretched across your features before looking up into the enchanting blue of his eyes.

“Loki, hi! What are you doing out here?”

Sitting down next to you, careful to avoid your dress he spoke,

“Well, I was informed that a beautiful lady was sitting in the garden in front of the palace so of course, I had to go inspect the situation. And upon seeing a stunning shade of green draped over the bench, I had to introduce myself.”

An airy laugh left your throat, blithe being showcased across your being.

“If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you fancy this beautiful woman.”

“How could I not? Her beauty extends beyond the physical. She's incredibly intelligent and the only one to unconditionally show kindness and love to those who deserve it. It’d be incredibly injudicious of me to not be aware of that.”

“Alright, alright Loki, you’ve buttered me up enough.” you chuckled

“It’s never enough, darling. And it’s not buttering you up if it’s true, which it is. So, against your wishes, I shall continue to do it.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. Looking down at his hands, you placed yours on top of his and gazed into his eyes once more. Glancing down to his lips and back up to his eyes, you slowly leaned in, Loki meeting you halfway. A kiss so tender you forgot it was Loki whose lips were tangled in a dance with your own.

Loki moved his hand out from underneath yours and placed it on your cheek. You pulled away from the kiss and nestled your head into his hand, his thumb caressing your cheek allowing you to relish in the moment of being with each other. Flashing your eyes back up to his you asked,

“Shall we go for a walk?”

“Why not?”

Stuffing your journal and pen back into your satchel you untangled your legs and got up from the bench, Loki helping you stand up so that you didn’t trip on your dress. Taking your hand in his own, you two walked through the garden on a path that would eventually lead you to the entrance of the palace.

“I’ve missed you Loki. I always miss you, I hate being away from you.”

“I know my love, I do as well, but you of all people know our predicament.”

You stopped in your tracks and turned in haste to stop him as well, making him face you. You brought both your hands up to cup his face, an idea flashing bright behind your eyes,

“Well, maybe we can change it! We can be the change to get rid of this stupid rule. I can’t imagine my life without you Loki. I don’t want to have to share my world with someone else. It’s only ever going to be you.”

Bringing his hands up to your wrists, he looked deep into your eyes, sorrow and hope swimming behind his facial features.

“Maybe we can, although we have to prepare for the worst...but that doesn't mean we can’t try.”

Giving a small smile, he moved his hands to the back of your head, thumb caressing your temple, and leaned in to kiss you. Giving you all the reassurance you could’ve asked for. Pulling away from each other you continued down the path hand in hand. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, serenity washing over you.

Opening your eyes, you realized you were closing in on the front of the palace meaning you would now be in the public eye and the last thing you wanted was more gossip to fall upon you. Looking at your lover, you stopped walking, halting him in his tracks. Forcing him to turn around and look at you.

“What is it?”

You sighed, suddenly being overcome with emotion.

“Well, if we walked any further, everyone would see us and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble for you…”

“...Trouble? For me?”

Loki scoffed, his signature smirk following.

“Love, all I’m known for is for causing trouble, I wouldn’t mind another notch on my belt.”

You were hesitant. You loved Loki and you knew your feelings were reciprocated through him, but it was difficult breaking from the chains of what you ‘were supposed to do’. It left you in such dissonance and yet you felt in your heart to rebel so fiercely that Asgard would immortalize your change. Your silence alerted Loki and he spoke again,

“Y/N, if we are to ever make any sort of change we cannot hide in the shadows anymore. We cannot separate and scatter like roaches when the light is shined upon us. We must bask in it. That is the only way we can possibly aspire to reach our goal of loving one another in true fulfillment.”

“You’re right.”

“I always am.”

You placed your hand back in his and Loki smiled down at you.

“Ready to have the target on your back, Y/N?”

“As long as you’re by my side, I can handle anything.”

Walking out of the secluded area of the garden, you finally stepped into the light. For the first time in the last year being open about your courtship with Loki. Asgard’s God of Mischief and your parent’s worst nightmare. You felt armored for anything to be hurled in your direction with Loki was by your side and always would be.

The anxiety of it all had yet to drain from your bones and you couldn’t help but draft up ‘what ifs’ in your head. As if Loki was scavenging through your brain, he gave your hand an inspiriting squeeze, bringing you back into your body and out of your head. If only you knew how the whispers of your choice in partnership would rain the fires of hell all too soon.

#loki #loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #marvel fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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qitwrites · 3 years ago

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(AO3)

June 1st falls on a random Tuesday. The weather is decent enough, the sun bright but not harsh, and the air is pleasant, slowly dipping to colder temperatures.

Everyone crowds around various desks to chatter before homeroom, and Iida spends a grand total of two minutes trying to bring about order before migrating towards Todoroki’s desk to join in the conversation he’s having with Midoriya and Sero. When there’s roughly 14 seconds to spare before Aizawa rolls into the class in his signature yellow sleeping bag, everyone takes their seats and on time, as always, Aizawa arrives.

Three things are noted immediately:

1. The yellow sleeping bag is nowhere in sight. It’s happened before, but not often.

2. There’s a strange bounce to Aizawa’s step. Not like a normal bounce, but he’s not dragging his feet like a reluctant, sleep-deprived sloth. His steps are focused and intentional. This is a very rare, almost never-before-witnessed sight.

3. His hair is up. He doesn’t usually do it up for class, though they’ve seen him pull it into a pony when he’s dressed more casually and not in his hero attire. This is an unprecedented situation.

The class watches Aizawa wearily because, from literal months of experience, they have realized that when something is out of the ordinary, shit usually flings itself towards the fan in a most spectacularly dramatic fashion.

Even Bakugou is on-edge, watching Aizawa like a hawk. Midoriya is ready to whip his iconic notebook out and make yet another behavioral observation under the Eraserhead section. Iida looks ready to disperse any tension. They are all ready.

Aizawa sets his stuff down, gruffly wishes them good morning and then turns around to write something on the board.

They are not ready.

It’s not a big deal at all actually. In hindsight, its stupidly minor, but with Aizawa, it stands out bright and shiny, and even Koda makes a small noise of surprise.

Aizawa’s hair is pulled into a pony with a scrunchie. Which is fine, all well and good. But the scrunchie is made of a rainbow-colored hyper shiny material, which is surprising, because Aizawa always seems allergic to color, especially on his person.

And finally, there are only 6 colors in the rainbow. Momo connects the dots before the rest, though Midoriya follows closely behind.

‘That’s-‘

‘-pride,’ Midoriya breathes, soft but just enough for Bakugou, Jirou, and Sero to hear.

The class is shocked for the first ten or so minutes, as more and more people make the connection, but honestly, it’s just a scrunchie. And with Eri under Aizawa’s care, it isn’t unlikely that he’s worn one of her hair ties or something. This is probably a coincidence, even if it is the first of June, so everyone stops fixating and starts focusing on class.

The scrunchie goes unmentioned and1A is on the same page- it’s definitely just a one-time thing.

It is not a one-time thing.

On the second of June, Aizawa saunters in seemingly back to his normal attire, and a few shoulders slump. They might all be saying its a coincidence, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it. There’s something so reassuring about the idea of their teacher, someone that protects them fiercely and loyally, being supportive.

Aizawa doesn’t seem to pick up on the mood, he just assigns them some self-study before taking a seat at his desk. And then he, very uncharacteristically, puts his feet up and reclines in his chair, a folder propped open in his lap.

There’s a collective inhale, the whole class breathing in as one because there it is- undeniable proof that it isn’t a coincidence.

On Aizawa’s feet are the brightest, most vibrantly gay pride socks ever. Each of the 6 colors loop around the material before the pattern repeats, and there’s no white material or anything, just the colors of the flag over and over.

‘Holy shit,’ Mina whisper-shouts, and her smile is blinding. Uraraka giggles. Tokoyami nods sagely and says, ‘The support of a figure of authority is a beacon against the darkness of humanity.’

They do their best to focus on self-study, but there’s a buzz around the class, a happy vibe that permeates the air and saturates it completely. There’s a glob of purple in the corner that seems indifferent, if not actively dismayed, but he goes ignored.

Midoriya writes something in his notebook and puts three stars next to it.

On the third of June, Aizawa has a rainbow hair clip pushing his bangs out of his face, and on the fourth, the soles of his shoes are rainbow and proud.

The competition begins the following Monday.

The thing about class 1A is that they try to support one another in any way possible, to encourage and stand together and everything. The other thing is that they’re hella competitive. It’s a hero course after all, and they’re trying to come out on top and be the best.

And it turns out their teacher, the chilled, nonchalant, mostly uninterested Aizawa Shota, is almost more than a little competitive when it comes to this stuff.

On Monday, Momo uses a pride scrunchie to pull her hair into her signature ponytail. Jirou has a band around her wrist that says love is love is love, and Satou bakes rainbow cookies for the whole class, leaving a few on Aizawa’s desk beforehand.

Their teacher walks in with his hair up again, and when his eyes settle on the cookies, they widen fractionally before he schools his expression into a more neutral one. He greets them all and his eyes flit over Jirou’s band, and the colorful cookie crumbs around the class. When he looks at Momo, she quickly turns her head to the side, showing off her hair accessory that matches his.

Aizawa doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t smile, or even nod, nothing. He just kinda gets down to business. At least, that’s what it would look like to someone on the outside.

But 1A reads him- they watch the way he pushes his hair back, fingers lingering on his scrunchie while he reads out their assignment. They see the way his eyes momentarily linger on the cookies or Jirou’s wrist, such small, quick glances that they all catch because they read him. They know him, and he knows that they know.

When class ends, the room is filled with warm giggles when Aizawa leaves, the plate of cookies in hand.

The next day, Ojiro has a braid in his tail with different threads mixed in there, forming the familiar rainbow pattern. Mina has her horns painted in a pride flag ombre, spanning three different colors on each. Kirishima uses a rainbow hairband to keep his bangs out of his face during training, and Midoriya switches out his black shoelaces for rainbows.

Aizawa’s eyes ping pong around the class, and for a moment everyone wonders how many dress codes they’re breaking but he doesn’t say anything again. He just reads out their assignments as usual, his own pride pin shining brightly on his chest, against the black of his hero uniform.

It’s all fun and games, full of warmth and support until Aizawa starts pulling out the big guns.

Because when Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf wrapped around his neck, the class collectively realizes- he is challenging them, and beating them quite mercilessly at that.

It’s obvious enough that even Bakugou growls in frustration, and then the games begin.

Mina shaves the word Pride into Iida’s undercut. Kaminari paints his nails. Hagakure replaces all her uniform buttons with multicolored ones. Shoji replaces his teal blue face mask with a pride one, and Uraraka has a few braids on the back of her head too. Satou’s desserts get more and more elaborate, more and more eye-catching and delicious.

The day after Aizawa walks in with a multicolored scarf, belt and goggles set, Satou stays up the entire night baking, set on paying their teacher back thrice fold.

Morning finds a rainbow croquembouche perched on Aizawa’s desk. Even Bakugou gives Satou a nod of respect because what the fuck? It’s literally a tower of sweets, brightly colored and absolutely delectable, and they get the biggest reaction out of Aizawa yet. His eyes widen, mouth dropping into a shocked little ‘o’, and his eyes immediately seek out Satou, who gives him a wide grin. Shaking his head incredulously, Aizawa conducts his class as usual. It’s a herculean task but he manages.

He still walks out with the entire dish balanced in his hands with great care.

Every teacher in their year has rainbow-colored tongues for the rest of the day.

Aizawa retaliates with eyeshadow. Rainbow eyeshadow. Jirou’s mouth drops, Aoyama starts wailing dramatically and even Todoroki looks impressed. Bakugou clicks his tongue and looks away, and Mina wants revenge.

The entire class comes together for the final showdown. Everyone tries to put color in their hair, though it doesn’t really work for the darker colors. Tokoyami adds a few sprinkles of glitter into his feathers, Iida switches his plain black frames to much more gaudy pride ones, and Todoroki and Bakugou have the most vibrant hair of them all, bright and ridiculous. Aizawa eyes them fondly almost, and that’s when they should’ve realized they were way out of their depth.

Because on June 30th, Aizawa walks into the class, his uniform spick and span, hair down, a ridiculous bounce in his step. Everyone eyes him from head to toe, and when they land on his feet, Kirishima inhales shakily.

‘No,’ he whispers.

‘Oh yes,’ Aizawa answers, his grin far too gleeful.

‘No fucking way,’ Bakugou snarls. His hands are shaking.

‘Language,’ Aizawa admonishes, his smile widening.

‘We’re doomed,’ Mina mumbles.

And right then, Aizawa taps the heels of his shoes together, and his pride rainbow shoes glow up and that’s it. Class 1A has lost. They accept it rather graciously, all things considered. Aizawa cackles like an evil witch, and Sero comforts a weeping Kaminari.

On July 1st, things go back to normal. Mostly normal.

Because Midoriya keeps the shoelaces. Someone sneaks a rainbow charm on Bakugou’s bag that he somehow keeps forgetting to obliterate to pieces. Kirishima doesn’t switch out his hairband, and Ojiro asks Tsuyu to braid his tail when they go out for more casual outings.

And Aizawa? Well, the soles of his hero boots are never quite the same.

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kodzukyan · 3 years ago

Text

talking to the moon

notes: yoshiwara au featuring samurai!baji x courtesan!(fem)reader! some fluff? angst. tw death! song recommendation accompaniments: yoshiwara lament - teto kasane & talking to the moon - kream!

wc: 2.3k

summary: yoshiwara is not meant for love, but you think it's far too late for you when you meet baji keisuke.

For as long as you can remember, your world has been seen through the bars of the harimise. A display, a product, for hours you would merely sit there and hope someone buys you.

The endlessly same scenery: the temple up north, the colorful vibrancy of kimonos, the bridge that leads southwards. Yoshiwara is always the same hustle and bustle of the lively streets. A day of ethereal beauty and strategic deceit; a night of lust and hushed promises, a so-called love that dispels with the first rays of dawn.

Once upon a time, you wanted to be someone who blooms for one person only, to love unreservedly. A childish dream to be free, to love fiercely. But fate steals your freedom and leaves you in the embrace of men who look at you as just another woman who warms their beds. Each bleak night as you look wistfully beyond the faceless man above you, the moon and stars sparkle, despite your torment, almost as if it’s mocking you for being unable to shine as they do.

With each passing day as you stare at your dull reflection in the polished mirror, bitterness seeps into your hardened heart. As your lips become redder and redder with used paint, the light in your eyes becomes dimmer and dimmer with dull indifference.

As if Yoshiwara bears your profound grief, it’s raining tonight. On such a day, you encounter him under the deep veil of darkness. His navy kimono contrasts vividly against your crimson lips, and the rosy pink that dusts his blushing cheeks gently warms your heart. He’s adorable, you think, as he grumbles and his friend nudges him towards the birdcage. Your eyes meet his, and his friend laughs and jostles him again towards you.

“Sir, won’t you please purchase me?” you smile sweetly, softly.

“I -” he starts.

“He would love to!” a new voice injects. His enthusiastic friend with blonde highlights smiles wolfishly.

“Welcome, please come in.”

You escort him to a room upstairs as the rain pours outside. When he cautiously enters your room, it is nothing like you are used to. He stands there awkwardly and runs a hand through his long locks.

“Would you like to sit? Perhaps a drink first?” you politely ask as you pat to the spot next to you.

It catches you by surprise when you can see the grays in his eyes as he looks at you instead of past you. He sits gruffly beside you and starts promptly, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You tilt your head, not really sure how to naturally proceed from here. But you've merely learned to comply, to satisfy, so you nod affirmatively and agree politely.

“In that case, what would you like to do?” you ask softly.

In a night meant for lovers between the sheets, he tells you stories of his adventures under the moonlight. You learn his name is Baji Keisuke, and he’s a samurai serving his childhood friend and the young lord of the Sano family. The one who ushered him here is one of his dearest friends named Kazutora, and they’ve been together since they were little. He loves feeling the adrenaline in his blood when he fights and often feeds stray cats because he thinks they’re cute. He unintentionally made his mom cry once when he was younger, so he swears he will never make her cry again.

He has dazzling eyes that tell no lies and an enigmatical smile that illuminates your heart, especially when he flashes his sharp canines that strikingly resemble fangs in his boisterous mirth. Outside, the continuous rain slows to a drizzle before it promptly stops. In your heart, he ignites a small spark of attainable hope.

A free spirit that contrasts very deeply against your very being. Unlike a trapped bird, he flies through the unclouded skies and undoubtedly makes life his own. His hearty laugh and vibrant eyes gently remind you what it's like to have hope beyond these four walls, to dream of a life of consuming love. You smile softly as he makes wild gestures with his hands, and you feel every insistent beat of your heart fluttering, thundering as he smiles affectionately at you.

Over and over again, he returns and buys your time instead of your used body. Time and time again, he talks naturally to you like you are someone in this world and listens to you like you are still good enough to be heard. Like the sun that melts away the darkness in your heart, your days spark a little brighter when he’s nearby. Instead of staring bitterly at your reflection as you paint your lips, the girlish dream you abandoned returns back to you.

Love whispers in your ears and knocks on your heart.

"Will you return?" you ask softly into the luminous night when he visits again. Once, twice, countless times to where you think you know him enough to remember what it’s like to love again.

As soon as the night ends, he has to leave. He will soar into the skies beyond the scope of your vision, beyond realms of the world you can only dream of because he's meant for something grander.

Still, you yearn.

"Where else would I go?" he answers as his eyes meet yours.

He clasps his rough hand around yours, eyes earnest and heart genuine, as he brushes against your knuckles tenderly. A hand full of calluses and blood, a hand used to wield swords and destructive weapons, but he cradles your hand so gently, tenderly, fondly.

"I will always come back to you."

You breathe out a quivering breath. You’ve heard these careless words countless times before from many other men, but his affectionate eyes are constantly full of genuine promises and unmistakable sincerity. You know Yoshiwara is the land of foolish dreams and lies, that Yoshiwara is unmeant for lovers.

Yoshiwara is not meant for the undeniable truth that you are irrevocably in love with him.

Still, you hope. You want to believe him, so you trust. You trust him with your vulnerability; you trust him with your heart. Under the veil of the night with the moon as your sole witness, you cut off a strand of your hair.

"For safe-keeping," you tell him as you tie your hair around his pinky, "Until you safely return."

He blinks once, twice before he smiles radiantly, fangs glinting in the light. He tugs a strand of his hair out before he clumsily wraps it around your pinky.

“There is something important I have to take care of,” he starts hesitantly. His eyes are looking into the darkness of the night, and for a moment, you can see weariness cloud his eyes. You reach to cradle his cheek, and at your touch, he looks at you. He holds your hand and presses a soft kiss on your fingertips. Newly found resolve beams through the clouds of doubt in his eyes. “But after that… Will you come with me?”

You stare incredulity at him, wide eyes carefully looking into his promising ones. He squeezes your hand as he stares anxiously back at you. The world is silent, and all you see is his gray eyes that have been your silver lining since the very first day.

He can’t afford to buy you, you know, and the fear of the consequences of running away burrows into your heart. But he looks at you, clear and open, and Heaven is in his eyes. You squeeze his hand back and bring it towards your lips to place a tender kiss on his palm. You think you’re far too ruined to be this optimistic about it, to dream of happiness like this, but you grin and nod anyway.

“I would go anywhere if it’s with you,” you smile, eyes and words honest.

He instantly breaks into an infectious grin, and he hugs you in eager excitement. “Thank you. I’ll be back by the next full moon. Wait for me,” he whispers fiercely into your hair.

You nod again as you melt into his comforting embrace. The flutters of your heart bloom into warmth in your chest, and it feeds into your heating cheeks as you hold on to him. The moon that invariably seems to look down on you, the stars that always seem to twinkle in critical disappointment softens as the lights of dawn overtake the sky.

A new day, a new hope.

He holds his pinky up, your hair tied on and your heart in the palm of his hands, as he looks at you. When you meet his eyes, the first rays of light glows behind him. He looks beautiful, angelic, and he seems so ephemeral. You hook your pinky, with his hair tied around it, with his in hopes that these fleeting moments will last just a moment longer, that this will be more than just a dream when you wake up.

A lie, a promise, you’re not quite sure which it is.

(You hope it’s a promise. You want it to be a promise.)

So, you wait. Day after day, night after night, and all the moments in between. You miss him like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky, but he fuels a fire in your heart that keeps you warm on the nights he isn’t here. It hasn’t rained for a long time now, you think, as you glance at your pinky and sunshine fill your soul. During nights, you keep your promise close to your heart as you stare at the phases of the moon. Waxing and waning, but your heart holds steady as you dream of boisterous laughter and lively eyes.

On the day of the full moon, you wait anxiously as people pass by. You’re on high alert as your eyes eagerly scan the crowd for any signs of him - his navy blue kimono, his long hair, his hearty laughter. As the blue sky turns to brilliant orange before it fades into the darkness of the night, the crushing weight in your heart grows heavier and heavier before the numbing realization that he won’t come hits you.

When the full moon peaks in the unclouded sky, only silence surrounds you. You sit lifelessly in front of your mirror at the end of the night with the full moon as your sole company. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting here as you mindlessly keep brushing your hair.

The overbearing heaviness finally breaks your heart and breaches the dam that restrains your tears. You muffle your cries in your kimono because you should have known better, should have known that dreams are unmeant for someone like you. You glance wistfully at your pinky before you clutch it close to your shattered heart, and all the energy in your body just comes out as silent sobs. As you bury your face in your knees and hug yourself, each fond memory comes back and replays in your head.

A mistake. This is a terrible mistake because you know Yoshiwara is built of lies like these. But when you think of his sincere eyes, your heart breaks again. Baji Keisuke is many things, but he is rarely a liar. You want to believe in him, want to believe in the dream of a life with him beyond these walls.

Maybe it’s not this full moon, you tell yourself, but he will return one day. The next full moon, the one after that, and all these other ones after, you’ll keep waiting. You believe in him, believe in love, so you will hold on steadfastly, stubbornly, desperately because you don’t think your heart can handle it otherwise.

In just another day of waiting in the similar scenery, you catch glimpses of a spark from the temple northwards. A new sight, but among the lively streets of just another busy day, it’s not a sight you focus on. The sparks are nice, though, you think as you suppress a giggle, because it reminds you of the fire in his eyes.

When it reaches dusk, the scorching winds blow from the northeast. The direction you watch him go from the confines of your birdcage, and when you still see the sparks, a foreboding feeling, a bad omen sinks into your heart as the sun falls.

The initial flare grows bigger and bigger until it bursts into a firestorm and begins swallowing the town. You run frantically alongside the chaotic crowd as the screams fill the air and fear fills your blood. You run, run, run until your legs are burning - from the fire? From fatigue? You’re not sure.

Your heart breaks with every step you take because death comes knocking. You keep holding on stubbornly because you still believe in your promise. But soon, your legs only carry you so far amongst the fleeting crowd and falling buildings and smoke fills your lungs and chokes you.

As fire devours you, you glance at the waxing moon. It ruthlessly tears through your skin and burns, burns, burns, but the pain of breaking your promise rips through your heart.

All you can think about are the moonlit nights under the same skies within the four walls you call home and the man you know as love. You think of his starry gray eyes and the promise you couldn’t keep, and you clutch your hand over your heart. Close, so, so close, but not quite another full moon yet. With sorry repeated on your cracked lips and lament in your anguished heart, your uncontrollable tears fall hopelessly.

(The news of the tragic death of a singular samurai, holding his bleeding hand to his heart, in the Battle of Valhalla never reaches you.

After all, fire travels faster than words.)

The deafening sound of crackling fire plays your requiem and ends the unfulfilled dream of love.

end notes: harimise is a viewing cage where courtesans were placed in, like products on display at shops. they sit there the whole day until someone buys them.

the act of cutting off your hair and tying it around someone's pinky is a lover's pact. basically, it's a vow of love between a courtesan and their customers, where they offer their hair, nails, and blood to seal the deal. it could be used to extort more money from the customer, but it could also just be a promise of love.

also fun fact: historically, yoshiwara did end up burning in a huge fire that originated in a temple! :")

#baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji angst #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #baji x you #baji keisuke x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers angst #i was working on another baji wip but then this took over LOL #one day we will have happy baji stories but today is not the day 😔#but literally baji in his navy blue kimono/yukata and high ponytail plagues my mind #so here we are <3 #sometimes i write things #i hope this shows up in the tags lol #also i read somewhere that palm kisses mean i trust you #i hope hes not too ooc?? i feel like baji is awko taco when it comes to love tbh HAHAH

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readerimagines · 3 years ago

Text

The sun shines through you (Part 1/?)

There was something captivating about the way he led his presence on the world. Maybe it was the soft sheen of his pearly complex under the sparkly moonlight or the way the tinted glass of the imposing windows served as the perfect brush to blend its colors on his figure; maybe the way the snakes that supported his being made him float across Anor Londo's Castle's marble floors on the secluded hallways he was allowed to traverse; maybe the way his voice elegantly, but fiercely, caressed each and every word that rolled off his tongue, escaping the pale lips that showed the slightest rose color.

She couldn't understand why, but his entire being, so formal and impeccably mannered, irradiated her with the most soothing of sensations, surpassing even that of his proud and magnificent Father now standing next to him.

During their very first meeting the servant felt herself immediately captivated, unable to understand the other servants' clear reluctance around him, only feigning regard due to the King's imposing presence in the hall they were gathered in.It almost seemed like they were in front of a monstrous contraption instead of the most gorgeous and delicate entity their eyes ever laid upon, his gentle aura contrasting the firmness of his character in a harmonious duality that only served to upheld him to his otherwordly features. But it all was but a distant thought as she felt the way his sharp gaze scrutinized her bowed, reverent figure before him through his crown and brought shivers along her bent spine, expanding in the most electrifying sensation that erupted in the mid of her body as it engulfed it with such a singular euphoria that only accentuated when Gwyndolin, once back to his spot next to his Father after investigating each of the servants aligned in front of him, called her name and declared she'd be in charge of taking care of the everyday chores that correlated the closest to him.

And while relieved of not having to scrub huge sheets and complex fabrics that needed the upmost care like she did up until that day to the point of ruthlessly ruining the skin of her hands, the weight of such position nearly crushed that same spine she straightened back up after another bow of courtesy and reverence, a weight the wet, heavy fabrics and pottery she took care of could not nearly compare to.

In the beginning he felt so distant and unapproachable like always, even during the most invasive of tasks like helping him wear his garments, but with time, right in those same daily moments she slowly started discovering the person behind the precious attire. Her gaze found him in the way he stretched as he woke up after the few hours he slept at night, in the way he would make himself as tiny as his tall height allowed him to be under the heavy duvet when the frisk morning's air filled his chambers as his now personal servant opened the windows to sink the room in the radiant sunrays of a new day that still oozed of the earthy scent of dew and the timid chirps of the first birds; in the way he would shiver as her cold fingertips accidentally grazed his soft skin during the clothing process with silent breaths and imperceptible gasps; in his little sighs when he finally lifted the imposing, heavy crown from his head after a long day to finally rest.

All little things, hints, that made her get an idea of the deity she was serving and how similar to a flesh carded human being he actually was, despite him being the embodiment of the moon that he so fiercefully rejected.

Another piece was added to the never ending puzzle that composed Gwyndonlin's person when one day, consumed by the way too few hours of sleep the deity needed to rest that inevitably led her to a long and uninterrupted streak of sleepless nights, not even the morning sun shining right on her face was enough to wake the young domestic from her deep slumber. The gratitude of not having to work back-breaking tasks in the castle was unquestionable and absolute, but it was impossible to not feel the effect of the rythm of such a tight sleep schedule building up exhaustion over her tenser and tenser shoulders everyday. It was the sudden realization of her delay that hit her like a cold shower as she bolted from the warmth of her bed's embrace and jumped in her clothes for the day, luckily prepared the night before, without sparing a care about braiding her hair in a practical and elegant hairdo like she usually did, instead stepping out of the room still tying her corset while running towards the deity's chambers approximately one hour late. The lump in her throat stopped her breath as she tried to swallow it down, sweaty hands trembling as her knuckles gently hit the door in a couple of soft knocks and his voice immediately invited her in with his usual firm and solemn tone that carried with it the unforgiving harshness of what she felt was the inevitable fall back to wash those impossibly heavy blankets, if not worse and completely losing her job only leaving a dent in her working career that would have been beyond repair.

She swallowed nervously, teeth digging into her lower lip as she took her first strides into the bedroom, eyes fixated on her own still bare feet as his glacial gaze pierced through her form, the snakes at the end of his legs hissing at her before instantly stopping.

"Raiseth thy gaze, Servant of the Dark Moon."

His voice stern as it echoed in the room, rumbling in her whole tense body only fueling the feeling of deep desire to slap herself for messing up so gravely while working for the gods of Lordran since Gwyn was not exactly known for his mercy. The infinite implications playing over and over in her head in those mere short moments in front of his Son. She hesitantly obeyed noticing his still bare skin in doing so, while slowly revealing her worn out features contorted in the upmost shame and frustration she couldn't really mark at that point. And it had been only a few moons, she were pretty sure that move costed her position.

"Thou art very not restful, aren't thee?"

That sudden question caught her completely off-guard and all she could do was barely bow without losing balance at the intensity of the gesture. "I'm fine, mine own Lord, 'twill never happen again, I'm sorry for-"

"I hath asked thee a question. Reply. And raiseth thy chin."

She bit her lip once more to silence any protest, face red as a beet as she lifted her head to face him again, slowly nodding at the deity still bare between the soft folds of the duvet on his bed. "I... I can't deny it's starting to sore to respect this sleep schedule..." The woman admitted looking away, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The young man seemed to attentively ponder his words before speaking again, gazing down at her smaller and now visibly fatigued build.

"Thee needeth to rest. From now on, after thou cameth helping with mine own morning grooming, wend and recovereth for however long thou needeth."

He shushed her before the words could even form on the tip of her tongue, noticing the way she opened her mouth in response to his directions.

"Questioneth not these words, thou art human and needeth it. Now, wend and cometh back find me at which hour thee recovered, I expecteth thee in thy best shape for lunch."

With that, he dismissed her without accepting another single word from his servant, stupor written all over the face of the young domestic as she slowly walked back to her room and got back into bed.

And the blessing she felt in having been graced by the chance of unveiling yet another little piece of her young lord lulled her back to a restful, restoring slumber.

_ _

Revisioned after posting it on Ao3 <3

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #darkmoon #darkmoon gwyndolin #gwyndolin #dark sun gwyndolin #dark souls #dark souls spoilers #spoilers #dark souls trilogy #gwyndolin x reader #anor londo #dark souls fanfic #ds1 #ds3

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

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Goodbye kiss

Summary: Lately they only share goodbye kisses (or Harry and Ginny's thoughts the day before they break up at Dumbledore's funeral). Sort of missing moment.

Or I was in the mood for some angst.

Harry’s kiss speaks of goodbye, tiny silver bells announcing their relationship is almost over.

Ginny is familiar with ending a relationship. She has had two breakups, after all, and she knows they are a risk at any relationship; she even encourages them when the relationship is going sour. Clean breakups are ideal - no hard feelings, just the acceptance that things didn’t work and now everyone is better on another path.

She remembers how it was with Michael. What they had had been cute at first, even special because he was his first boyfriend and she was his. But that was it; the only thing they ever shared was that beginning.

There wasn’t many feelings between them towards the end. Michael was too occupied with his OWLs and Ginny was too occupied with her Quidditch trainings, so they barely saw each other besides some meetings at the corridor when their schedules coincided. Michael was always at the library, Ginny was always outside and neither seemed to actually miss one another.

And then her efforts in training had actually paid off when Ginny caught the snitch under Cho Chang’s nose. She’d thought that Michael valued competition enough to actually praise her for her performance, but he wasn’t in the mood - and Ginny wasn’t very patient too, she admitted later.

‘If you are so upset that I beat Cho, why don’t you run off to comfort her?’, she’d yelled, annoyed that he was judging her for being actually pleased that they had beaten Ravenclaw.

‘Well, maybe I will’.

‘Do whatever you want, Michael, we are done’.

Michael had done exactly what she had suggested, and then Ginny had felt a tingle of annoyance that was the first real thing she’d felt for Michael Corner in a long time. But it was brief; she was better without him and in any case he was free to go comfort anyone he wanted.

Ginny would never discuss the need for a breakup.

Her breakup with Dean was late. Being with him had been nice for a long time, but a good snog was not enough to make a relationship last.

Things were rocky between them for a longer time than their relationship was good, but they still had feelings for each other, so they had tried. In the end, it had not been really his fault as much as it wasn’t hers; they just weren’t compatible, Ginny eventually realized. Dean wanted someone to pamper and to take care of and Ginny could handle herself just fine. She refused to be the lady in distress Dean somehow hoped she was.

Eventually she would find out that it wasn’t Dean that actually pushed her on the day of their breakup, but Ginny would not complain. Luck or not, their breakup felt necessary, a resolution of a relationship that was going nowhere and that was only damaging the friendship she once had with Dean.

Later Dean would try to talk to her, would want to rekindle their relationship. He might have lingering feelings for what they once had - but the sparkle that had first made them work together was gone.

All her previous relationships had faded so naturally.

Which is probably why this imminent breakup with Harry scares her so much.

She could understand if they had not worked out, if they found out they were better friends than lovers. But those few weeks they spent together only made evident how natural, almost effortless, it was being with Harry; it felt like they were supposed to be together. Dating Harry was a bright spot in the middle of a growing darkness, that Ginny had dared to pretend it would last.

Even knowing, she had hoped for more: they had so little time together, stolen hours that are not nearly enough. Ginny wants the time they never had to argue withhim, to find his faults and to discover what are her quirks that annoy him. She wants to have a bad day to see how they would work things out. She wants the tempestuous days that will show they can overcome any problem. She wants the good days where they will walk every little next step on their relationship.

But they won't have any of it.

Ending things with Michael and Dean had brought her relief. But breaking up with Harry is just… painful. Wrong. Heartbreaking.

Breakups are for when a relationship is bad, not for when in its best glorious days. Breakups are for when people are not in love anymore - and Harry likes her as much as she likes him, that Ginny knows, that she can see in the way he is staring at her, so desperate and so sorry.

He doesn't want to end things with her. But he will.

She can feel in the way he gazes at her these last couple days, or how he sometimes clings to her as if he fears letting her go, or how the joy in his eyes (that had glinted ever since Harry first kissed her) is gone, replaced by a quiet sorrow.

She hears in his voice as he talks to her, the ending always at the tip of his tongue. Not yet, but soon.

This would be easier, so much easier, if she didn't like him so much. If her heart wasn't beating desperately (for more, she wants more of him, always a little more) as she puts her arms around his neck like she has done hundred of times before, her lips touching his tenderly.

But Harry hesitates, his lips trembling and not moving against hers, and Ginny can already hear the parting words she knows he needs to say.

At night, when she can't sleep, she wonders how it will happen. If he is just going to tell her it's over. If he will justify. If he will cry.

If she will cry.

'Harry', she calls him, a soft plead. 'Kiss me'.

One more time, she thinks. We will leave the goodbye for another day.

When she feels Harry finally answering her kiss - his lips are urgent, feverish, needy and so sorry - she hopes for once that another day never comes.

~*~

Ginny’s kiss tastes like goodbye.

Harry hates it because it’s all wrong.

They must have exchanged hundreds of kisses by now - there was that first glorious kiss (sunlit, Harry had thought, it tasted like sunlit mournings), the goodnight kisses that tasted of good dreams and the even better good morning kisses that spoke of the possibilities the day brought.

That chaste peck on his cheek when they were in the Great Hall and he had wished her good luck on her exam.

That take-away-your-breath, fumbling-hands, intense snog in the broom cupboard of the sixth floor that tasted like desire and curiosity. The kiss on his bed that was forbidden and wonderful until they were hastily interrupted when Dean and Seamus entered the dormitory and Ginny had to leave under the Invisibility Cloak.

The warm kiss they shared when Ginny took him to the kitchens for a midnight snack and he could savour the hot chocolate on her lips - and then next day, when they had shared a picnic on the grounds, on that bright hot summer day, he had tasted every flavour of the fruits on her lips too. Fresh and sweet and acid.

But never bittersweet like it tastes these days.

Harry knows what he has to do and still he can’t. Not yet.

(Not ever, but he must)

Kissing Ginny is excruating as if lightning - the one in the tower that killed Dumbledore, the one marked forever in his forehead - is striking him, burning him; and yet kissing her still heals too, a phoenix song that fills him with a vain hope.

He tastes the goodbye in every kiss they share these last couple days. It’s Dumbledore’s funeral tomorrow and yet the day is warm, the sun shining on the surface of the lake, none at all caring that Dumbledore is gone and that Harry’s future is dark.

Harry looks away from the lake, his eyes falling on Ginny by his side. She is thoughtful, but when she feels his gaze, she turns to him, the corners of her mouth lifting up as if it is the most natural reaction for her to smile at him. Harry takes in the sight of Ginny - flaming red hair, warm fierce brown eyes, freckles carefully spread on her cheek (and collarbone and a little bit over her breasts, Harry knows) and he thinks this is the sight he wants to take to his heart, to last forever, even if their kisses are counted now.

She approaches him carefully and Harry reacts without even thinking, a second nature now - his arms reach to her, wrapping around her waist while Ginny throws her arms around his neck. Her lips brush over his, softly, the promise of a kiss he knows they will share in a second or too and for that second Harry hesitates, desperate for her lips and fearing it.

Every kiss they share is somehow closer to their last one. He already tastes the goodbye; he is not ready to let that goodbye leave his lips.

Maybe… maybe he can keep it there a little bit longer. Maybe if they kiss, time will stop and he will be able to live in that moment forever. But this will be the kiss that never ends.

‘Harry’, she whispers. Her eyes burn deep. ‘Kiss me’.

As if there is no tomorrow, he hears in her voice. As if it’s not the last time. As you always kissed me.

And Harry does.

#hinny #angst #just some feelings and words #t: fanfiction #they break up but they get back together eventually #I will review it in the morning

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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…”

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