#Point Reyes Light Station

[graveyardrabbit]

Point Reyes Lighthouse

11/12/2023

[gerrypez]

Tam day 2. Light wind launch. The LZ was full of kids at surf summer camp.

After we went hiking north of Bolinas - these cliffs shown here are next to the RCA station, they are perfect for paragliding. I remember the Berkeley club went there a few times. Update - they are within Point Reyes, not legal.

[studioahead]

Artist Spotlight: John Gnorski

When we asked John Gnorski what on earth are EARTH BABIES, he took us on a subterranean journey to meet them. Or at least that's how it felt. Hearing John speak about his creative process certainly takes you all over, even into your subconsciousness, about which he has a lot to say. His art is full of strange landscapes, strange portraits, strange figures. Our current fave is one from his Clouds Roll By Like A Train In The Sky series not because of its great title, or because the clouds might actually be birds or blossoms, but because peeking through the print's ink is the grain of the woodblock, reminding us of the materiality that grounds all our work, no matter how wildly dreamt.

Studio AHEAD: John, your bio is mysteriously pithy: “Born in Alexandria, Virginia, living/ working in Point Reyes Station, CA.” What brought you to the other side of the country? 

John Gnorski: I moved from the East Coast more or less on a whim in 2007, picking up and leaving the Hudson Valley, which had been my home for 6 years at that point, and ending up in Portland, OR. Luckily it was still a pretty affordable town at the time so I was able to piece together a nice existence doing carpentry for a day job (which would indelibly inform my art practice) and making art and music every other waking hour. I found a great community, fell in love with the truly epic landscape of the West, and at some point the West Coast just became home. 

After many happy years up in Oregon, my partner Katie, who is a filmmaker, decided to get a master’s degree and that instigated our (truly auspicious) move to the Bay. One thing led to another, and we were lucky enough to find a house to rent in Pt. Reyes Station. Before long we found a great community out here and we hope to stay for as long as we can. 

I do miss the East sometimes, especially the sort of archetypal procession of seasons there with crisp autumn days, deep winters, and summer thunderstorms and lighting bugs. That said, I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to live than here on the Northern California coast. I’m grateful every day to be here and I often think to myself how did I even end up here in this incredible place? 

Studio AHEAD: Has Northern California come to influence the materiality of your work? 

John Gnorski: Absolutely. In a very literal sense I tend to use native wood in my work whenever I can, but the influence goes beyond the physical material to a particular sensibility that seems to be shared by a lot of Northern California artists across generations and styles. I find that, at least in my experience, there’s less concern out here about the whole (false) binary of art vs. craft than I experienced as a young artist on the East Coast (particularly in the vicinity of New York). 

I think that this attitude has, thankfully, changed quite a bit pretty much everywhere in the years since I moved west, but nevertheless California has a long history of breaking down established conventions and categories. Ceramics and wood sculpture, for instance, have been taken seriously out here for generations in a way that hasn’t historically been the case out east. 

This anti-hierarchical spirit famously permeates a lot of the culture out here. A nice example is the great DIY building tradition of the “hippies” and other folks who took to the rural areas of the coast, starting in the middle of the last century, and made truly beautiful, strange, and inspired homes out here that flout both architectural convention and often the laws of physics. I’ve had the pleasure of helping to restore some buildings like this up in Mendocino and, to bring this full circle, some of the little scraps and bits I’ve taken with me from those projects have become pieces of my own work, along with the lessons of those often anonymous artist/builders who made, intentionally or not, amazing sculpture-houses. 

There’s also a very strong Japanese influence on the aesthetics of so much California art/craft/design that’s found its way into my work. Would I be making these very Japanese/Noguchi-inspired lanterns if I hadn’t ended up here? I don’t know for sure but I’m guessing this place has informed them quite a bit. 

Studio AHEAD: Don't get Homan started on Noguchi. He's obsessed. What is your relation to abstraction? Many of your sculptures and drawings almost seem to form recognizable figures, but not quite. 

John Gnorski: With very few exceptions everything I make is representational even if it’s hard to decipher the image in the finished piece. I’m looking at a little watercolor painting right now that would almost certainly appear totally abstract to anyone but me, but I know that I made it in the Mojave desert and I can see the particular landscape that I was trying to depict—the horizon, the heat ripples, little constellations of scrubby desert plants—though it’s basically reduced to visual symbols. 

It’s not necessarily a formal decision I’ve made to avoid pure abstraction, it’s more of a narrative one. Having concrete subject matter is an important starting point for me, one method of avoiding the potentially paralyzing experience of confronting the blank page. So even if the finished picture or object ends up miles away from where it began, I still start by saying to myself, for instance: I’m going to draw a lizard sunning itself on a stump or, as in one of the pictures I’m working on now, I’m going to draw a bather in Tomales Bay stooping down to look at a bat ray. One might end up a pretty faithful manifestation of the concept while another might go through the ringer of some process and turn out as a loopy line drawing that barely hints at its source material. 

I sometimes do the same thing when I write songs, coming up with a title first and then writing into that. The two even intersect as in my continuing series of cloud pictures all of which are titled “Clouds Roll By Like A Train In The Sky” which is also the name of a song I wrote. Without the title those pictures read as geometric abstraction, but with the title they become clouds. Context is so important! 

Studio AHEAD: Those cloud pictures, and also your Rorschach-like quarantine notebooks/bird and butterfly prints, give room to the subconscious. How do you get into that mental space when creating that allows for the subconscious to take over? 

John Gnorski: Allowing room for the subconscious is really important to me because at the end of the day it’s very often the accidental/unintentional things that really resonate with me. To clarify, when I say subconscious in this context what I’m really talking about is allowing forces outside of my control to work in the picture/object. I try to maintain a decent level of competence when it comes to the basics of art-making, but I also try to use whatever “technique” I’ve developed to allow chance and accident to do their wonderful work. I know that nothing I could map out perfectly from start to finish will be nearly as interesting as something that transforms in ways I never could have anticipated through the process of the making. 

This sensibility is very visibly present in the Rorschach-style pieces and a lot of my sketchbooks and works on paper, but it’s there in less obvious ways in all of my work. The lanterns, for instance, might appear as though each little bit of joinery was carefully plotted out, but in reality they are built based on pretty simple line drawings and constructed in an organic manner. I’ll have a basic shape I want to achieve, but the way everything is put together is done on the fly. Sometimes a connection might become redundant structurally as a piece grows, but I’ll keep it in there as a remnant of the process. All the little false steps and unintentional gestures become a part of the piece and give it a complexity I wouldn’t have achieved if I’d set out with a dialed-in plan and done things in the most elegant and minimal way possible. 

The same is true of the ink on paper pieces which begin life as charcoal drawings and allow chance to seep in throughout the process. I rub the drawings onto plywood “plates” which transfers them in an imperfect but legible manner. I’m also using multiple plates and pieces of paper to allow for misalignments, and the plates themselves are of a type of plywood that tends to have an active grain that sometimes splinters or “runs”—interrupting the carved line in often surprising ways. I hand print the plates, which produces unexpected textures, and then go back into the image with more ink or sometimes collage or pastel. So in the end what began as a pretty clear and maybe even graceful line drawing becomes, through the welcoming-in of chance, something a bit more nuanced and awkward, full of special little moments on its physical surface that come out of that totally not conscious place of process. 

Studio AHEAD: Tell us about EARTH BABIES, your collaboration with Kate Bernstein. We are particularly interested in how collaboration impacts the creative process—we have many ideas about this at Studio AHEAD and those ideas are constantly evolving. Do you find it easier to work alone or with a partner? 

John Gnorski: EARTH BABIES is the conceptual tent that shelters all the collaborative work that Katie and I do together. It started as a music/installation performance at an amazing event called Spaceness that friends of ours organized for 5 years on the coast of Washington at a place called the Sou’wester. 

Spaceness was a very free-form community art-making event that revolved around the concept of the unknown, and often featured work relating to outer space or unexplored worlds. It was held annually in early spring—the very darkest and dreariest time of the year in the Pacific Northwest—and it featured music, dance, video, radio, you name it. Folks would work for months on their contributions, and it was so beautiful: community coming together to make their own entertainment and help each other through dark days. For me, this is the best case scenario for art-making. I like to think of it as subsistence art—art for fun and joy and also for survival. It honestly makes me tear up thinking about it, and I often cried during the performances there. It just moves me so much to see what people can make with little to no budget out of the simplest materials like cardboard, scrap wood, clip lights, fabric, words: whole worlds that can really put you under a spell, transport you, communicate a message, and make time and space for our imaginations to nourish one another. 

Anyway (and forgive me, this is going to get maybe a little esoteric) Katie and I, inspired by a trip to Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, came up with this idea of a whole culture of beings living deep under the surface of our Earth called “Earth Babies.” We first wrote and recorded songs based on this imaginary world, and over the years we made various installations: the “Healing Machine” which was a sound bath in a hand-built A-frame in the woods and the “Hopler Archive,” a fictional natural history museum. 

At this point, EARTH BABIES is the name we use whenever we want to make something creative without the burden of our “actual” identities getting in the way. It’s our shared alter ego that allows for maximum creative expression. 

As for collaboration generally, as much as I love spending time alone in my studio, my ideal art making ratio would be 25% solitary practice, and 75% collaboration. I love the energy of working with other artists, performers, thinkers, etc., and I think that collaboration leads to amazing things no one ever could have come up with on their own. I also think that community events like DIY music shows, theater, potlucks and ephemeral art exhibits in informal spaces are the most heartfelt and wonderful forms of art —purely collaborative and collectively authored. Again, it’s that idea of “subsistence art”. If none of us had to worry about selling our work I think there would naturally be a lot less emphasis on individual style and a lot less concern about authorship. Maybe collaboration would be the new norm and we could all contribute a verse to the big song we sing to sustain ourselves. 

Studio AHEAD: What's your favorite music to listen to while making art? You are also a DJ and musician.

John Gnorski: Katie and I host a radio show on West Marin’s community radio station KWMR every other Sunday morning, which has really made us feel connected to the community out here. 

I listen to a huge variety of music in my studio from atmospheric/ambient music like Brian Eno and Hiroshi Yoshimura to soul to Neil Young to Terry Riley to Alice Coltrane to Lucinda Williams. I’ll often just rely on my cassette library to take a break from the digital realm, which features a lot of mixtapes from Mississippi Records, my favorite record store/label. But if I had to choose only one thing to listen to while making art it would be Ornette Coleman. I’ve listened to a collection of his recordings called Beauty Is A Rare Thing many thousands of times over the years in every studio, basement, garage, and shed I’ve worked in. His music has every color and emotion and gesture in it, and it radiates compassion and energy and love. It’s also difficult at times and can go from soothing to jarring pretty quickly, much like life. When I listen to a song like “I Heard It Over The Radio” I hear everything from voices harmonizing singing a folk song to animals making raucous calls to wind in the trees and rattling subway cars. 

Studio AHEAD: What can you do in music that you can’t do in the plastic arts? And vice versa? 

John Gnorski: For me the boundaries are pretty porous. As I alluded to earlier with the titling of my work, there’s a lot of crossover and dialogue between disciplines in my practice. It’s easier for me to come up with analogies. A skittering, hesitant line in a drawing conveys something similar to a thin, airy flute or a tentative phrase on a piano. Take a lyric like this one by Leonard Cohen: 

Nancy was alone

looking at the late, late show

through a semi-precious stone. 

It conjures all kinds of atmospheres and emotional states like a Rothko or an Alice Neel portrait. Whenever I hear Alice Coltrane play the harp I think of someone painting with absolutely every color on their palette. 

Music, however—live music—does have the wonderful quality of being ephemeral that most plastic arts don’t possess. It allows you to really inhabit the moment if you choose to. As a performer you’re also able to collaborate with an audience in a way that’s much harder to do with visual art. If you can engage an audience, or are part of an engaged audience, it can really make the experience special, with everyone kind of rooting for the performers and contributing their attention and energy to make the whole experience really lovely. 

Then I suppose there are some stories that can be more eloquently told in pictures or gestures than in sound. Light can be captured really evocatively in a drawing or a painting and used to make form in the realm of sculpture. There are some feelings you can only get, some ideas that can only be conveyed, when you’re in the presence of a physical thing. 

Studio AHEAD: I want to end on the very first photo posted on your Instagram. It’s a poster that says: “Now is the time to do your life’s work.” How do you or how do you try to live this mantra? 

John Gnorski: I made this picture as a kind of personal affirmation to hang on my studio wall many years ago. A lot of people who came through commented on it and it seemed like most everyone appreciated the reminder. 

My idea of my “life’s work” changes all the time, but the constant is a commitment to making things that I hope will tell a story or convey a feeling clearly and with heart. At times it can seem like art is some kind of luxury or commodity, but then I remember how it has truly illuminated and influenced and given hope and shape to my life and the lives of a lot of other people over the entire course of human existence. I think that being an artist is as noble a vocation as any, and more helpful to humanity than a lot of things I could be doing with my time. 

I’m in the fortunate position of being able to primarily make a living by making art and other art-adjacent objects these days, but in the recent past when I would be laboring away at a carpentry gig, I would think of that image and that mantra and remember that I had some kind of calling beyond the job that paid the bills—a “life’s work” that couldn’t be defined by an hourly rate—and that the artist work deserved and demanded my commitment. I still believe that if I show up for the muse or universe or whatever you want to call it everyday, ready and willing to work, that I’ll be able to somehow keep doing this as my life’s work and hopefully make things that help other people see life or hear it or survive and take joy in it. 

Studio AHEAD: We love that. We always start with asking our clients how they live. It's so important. Can you give us three creative people/places/cultural forces based in Northern California that we should take note of?

John Gnorski: Cole Pulice is a musician/composer living in the East Bay whose music often keeps me company in the studio. We also listen to a piece of theirs almost every day on the short drive from our house to the trail that we walk to check on the animal neighbors and greet the day. 

Bolinas/Pt.Reyes/Inverness DIY art/music scene This is an acknowledgement of the type of creative community vitality that to me is the heart of sustaining art-making—artists, musicians, writers—we can also get specific and talk about it in terms of two spaces where most of this stuff takes place: the Gospel Flat Farm Stand and the hardware store in Bolinas. Both are DIY spaces of the highest caliber that provide the setting and the energy for art to happen. 

Ido Yoshimoto. I know that everyone reading this probably already knows Ido’s work [if not, we interviewed him here —SA] but I feel compelled to shout him out because he so generously invited me into the community here when we landed a few years back. He’s also shared knowledge and food and time. The people who make their lives here and share their talents and have profound respect for the land are the soul of this place, and Ido is one of those people.

Photos by Ekaterina Izmestieva

[dragonknightofsummerset]

I’m Only Human

Okay, so I've been trying, ever since I finished my first (& only lol) playthrough of Andromeda, to write a fic about Reyes and Ryder, but I cannot for the life of me be satisfied with what I write (except for like the 1 scene I wanted to base the whole thing around lol).

I thought I would instead try to explain what I like about Reyes & the romance with him, which was supposed to be a key factor into the whole fic that will never see the light of day (rip). I'll put it all below a cut, cause 1. I don't want to be perceived & 2. It's just going to be more of my rambling & opinions & it's long :3

*Small note: Sometimes I write, “we”, “you”, and It’s because I’m referring to myself, & any readers, as the players, and I tried to distinguish between Ryder and the players in that regard, so sorry for any confusion.

We know that Ryder's father, Alec, gave his life for them during the events of Habitat 7. When he did this, he also linked SAM (pretty much bound SAM) to Ryder's brain which technically killed Ryder (SAM says they were clinically dead for 22 seconds), & there is no way of removing SAM without risk to Ryder's life. I don't want to go on a rant on this, cause that's a whole other bag of emotions that didn't start setting in until a few days prior to starting this, when I realized I never processed this while playing the game (& it ties into what the Ryder twins find out about their mom later in the game which is just...a mess.) Anyway, here are a few images for proof about the SAM thing:

Anyway, Ryder is then told that they're the new Pathfinder, and from then on, Ryder just doesn't catch a break. They meet the ones in charge of the Initiative, after arriving at a dark & outdated, Nexus station, further showing how nothing is going according to plan for the Initiative; and Ryder is heavily scrutinized by Addison, as well as having to carry the burden of having everyone else's hopes that the Initiative will work out still, on them. Addison claims it isn’t personal, but the way she interacts with Ryder is just very...no.

Of course, this is par for the course for main characters in many games, but I feel like Ryder is never given time to process their father's death (no matter how estranged they are), or to have a proper freak out about being Pathfinder other than when they're first told, and with a few moments when talking to Cora, where she offers her support.

But then there's like the whole thing where the game didn't seem to take itself seriously. The problem with this was, as funny as the meetings could play out, no one on the crew seemed to respect or take Ryder's role seriously because...I'm not sure why tbh. Was it because they didn't present themselves in the same way Alec did? Was it because they were young & had no training for the role of Pathfinder? Like I literally don't know, talking with the crew you don't get the idea that they don't respect Ryder; some of them don't trust Ryder yet or aren't ready to talk about themselves but that's separate from what I'm referring to (& also okay cause it takes time to open up to someone, if they even want to). It just seemed to contradict the bit of conversation we can overhear between Peebee & Liam, where she points out that Liam stays close to Ryder when they go out on missions together, and Liam explains that it's because Ryder is the Pathfinder (someone important who needs to be protected because without them they're essentially screwed). And as much as I love this bit of information, it just doesn't make sense with the way the crew acts at the end of meetings when they know, & have said, how important Ryder is to the Initiative; especially for Liam & Cora to behave the same way when they know what happened on Habitat 7, & they know how Ryder feels about being forced into the role of Pathfinder, because they get to hear their response. (Also, I need to clarify, I know Ryder's crew does care about Ryder, beyond their Pathfinder role, but I feel like it's important to point out how they bring up Ryder's importance and tie it to their Pathfinder role, while also not taking their leadership role seriously outside of 1 on 1 conversations.) And don't even get me started on how little acknowledgement there is for the 2 times that Ryder dies; I feel like it should have been questioned more when it happened the second time...but I digress. I wanted to bring up these things Ryder goes through, and how it ties into the fact that Reyes is so good for them (for my Ryder btw, I understand this isn't universal).

Reyes is a bastard, but I love him & there is more depth to him than some people care to admit. Unfortunately, his romance is tied to Kadara; he isn't a crewmate, so Ryder's interactions with him are limited to Kadara's main missions, emails, and a very short conversation at the end of the game. (I guess if you want to count the wink after the final fight but like, the game could've done better.)

Upon meeting him, Ryder deduces he's a smuggler, and we can pretty much guess he doesn't like Sloane & doesn't want her to be in charge anymore based on his comments about her & how she runs things, in follow up conversations with him. Reyes then offers to help Ryder, granted this is if you decide to work with Reyes instead of Sloane, and tells them that they can come to him for anything they may need while on Kadara.

Key things I really loved, or that made me love Ryder's and Reyes' relationship more:

Reyes laying it on thick with the charm but somehow turning it up when Ryder flirted with him

the fact that his heart eyes at Ryder seem to start once we uncover who's behind the murders (with consistent flirting btw) I mean, hello?? "Careful, I might start thinking you like me" "would that be so bad" "depends..." like damn okay

The mission where Ryder helps him out & there's a chance to say, "Reyes is a better man than you think" & Reyes being genuinely thankful that Ryder said that about him

His emails, I shall link the post with them <3

"Night on the Town" quest, peak perfection of a quest that serves to further the romance, if you choose it. Hear me out:

Reyes invites Ryder to a party, he is ok with whatever Ryder decides it'll be (a date or strictly professional), we meet Keema who tells us, "you're all he talks about lately", then we get ditched by Reyes and when we find him later we learn he was using Ryder to be able to look through Sloane's things & we have the option to call him out on his empty promises, what follows is a, "quick we need a distraction" kiss (again if you've been consistently flirting), before running out of the party together, holding hands, once Reyes manages to nab a bottle of whiskey, then at the end of the quest, 2 things: we find out why Reyes came to Andromeda, and Reyes & Ryder kiss for real.

Reyes' reason, "to be someone" & Ryder's response, "you're someone to me" are so, so good.

*Side note: I saw some wack theories about Reyes being connected to cerberus and I was like huh??? Yawn, moving on- I love the idea of Reyes having been a nobody back in the milky way; someone who had a simple job, seemingly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and whether or not he had family, or other relationships, he just was left feeling like he could be doing more, that he could be more. Which is why he decided to be a part of the Initiative. There's a chance that if the uprising on the Nexus didn't happen, he could still have been a nobody, just in a new galaxy; but because of the uprising, he was able to become someone, The Charlatan, even if most people don't know that they’re the same person.

AND THIS IS WHY RYDER'S RESPONSE OF, "YOU'RE SOMEONE TO ME." IS SO GOOD!!!!

Reyes is someone, but hardly anyone knows it, and like he tells Ryder during the dance scene, his survival has depended on secrets ever since he left the Nexus. At most, he is at least known to be a good smuggler, enough so that other smugglers want to kill him, but a name bigger than "Shena", his smuggler codename, is the Charlatan's; and even though they're the same person, only a handful, if that, of people know, so is he really someone?

I'd also like to point out that when Reyes introduces himself to Ryder, he tells them that they can call him "Reyes" because he hates codenames. This is way more of a personal headcanon, but it makes me think that Reyes wants to be known as Reyes, not as these other codenames, but because of what he does, it's easier to operate with these codenames, and with hardly anyone knowing who he actually is.

Looking at his face when he admits to Ryder why he came to Andromeda, it looks solemn, like he's either remembering his life before the initiative, or he still feels like a nobody because as far as everyone knows, the Charlatan and Reyes are 2 different people.

But then there's Ryder, they don't know Reyes' secret yet, there is a lot they don't know about him, even so, Ryder seems to relieve Reyes of whatever thoughts plagued him in that moment with their genuine response of Reyes being someone to them, not the Charlatan, not "Shena", just him, Reyes.

And then the kiss, it's so cute & soft & of course Reyes would tease Ryder before doing it, but his face!!!! He is smiling so genuinely as he goes in for the kiss, he might have been pleasantly surprised by the distraction kiss earlier, but with the real kiss he is smiling!!! It's like a part of him wants this to work out, he wants Ryder, he doesn't want to disappoint them. During the kiss, it's just Reyes and Ryder. No Pathfinder, no Charlatan. (*I'd also like to link this song that I associate with them, specifically cause of this scene. Song. English Lyrics.)

Which brings me to the duel, I will refrain from commenting on the wack takes I've seen about this scene & skip ahead to Ryder's hurt surprise in finding out Reyes is the Charlatan, and Reyes attempting to reassure Ryder during the confrontation with Sloane, that they know the real him, that although he lied about who he is, he didn't lie about the feelings he showed Ryder. I believe that Reyes is terrified of what will happen after the duel, between him and Ryder. He has been lying to them after all, and to him, there's a chance that whatever real moments they shared, wouldn't matter anymore. Which brings me to the part where Ryder can potentially break up with Reyes. (Reminder that this scene only comes up if you DON'T save Sloane.) I am so upset that we couldn't have a longer conversation about finding out Reyes is the Charlatan, and what it means for their relationship. What we do get before the cave make out scene, is good though, especially if you think back to what Zia said about Reyes. In the cave, after the duel, Reyes admits that he liked the way Ryder looked at HIM, he didn't want that to change.

       ~ Ahhhhhh, I need a second, I am going feral over this. ~

Okay, so when we meet Zia a few missions before, she calls Reyes selfish and says it's why he doesn't have friends, Ryder then says, what I'm sure turned the tables on their relationship with Reyes, that "Reyes is a better man than [Zia] thinks", when she threatens Ryder, Reyes threatens Zia to leave them out of it & even Zia notes that Reyes must "really like [Ryder]". And this is so important for their relationship, like idk if I can put it into words but I'll try:

At this point in the game, Ryder knows Reyes is shady, but even still they see something in him that makes Ryder want to defend him, because they believe that at his core, Reyes is better than what he lets people see. Another personal headcanon, is that there was potential for Reyes to lose the good he had and to turn out no better than Sloane and the other exiles wreaking havoc; what changed was having someone believing he was good. And he liked that Ryder saw him like that. Despite the little Ryder knew about him, and what they did know was morally questionable, they still looked at him like he was a good person or trying to be one at the very least. Which is why when he admits to Ryder that he didn't want that to change, it hurts 😭

I'd also like to point out that Reyes neither confirms, nor denies, his trust in Ryder, which makes me believe further that it wasn't about trust but instead, it was exactly about what he said, that he liked how Ryder looked at him. I mean, we find out later, if we talk to Keema again, that he DID WANT to tell Ryder about how he's the Charlatan, he was agonizing over it, (she found it adorable).

Then there's the follow up scene after the whole cave scene, Reyes admits to neglecting Ryder on their first date and offers to dance with them in that moment, as a way to make it up to them. If you accept, Ryder comments on how they "didn't know [Reyes] had a romantic streak", which Reyes responds to with, "there's a lot you don't know about me."

Reyes continues the conversation by saying that his survival, after leaving the Nexus, has depended on secrecy; but he doesn't want any more secrets between them. What follows are 2 good responses from Ryder & unfortunately we can only choose 1.

We can have Ryder remark that Reyes is the encrypted one, which earns such an endearing chuckle from Reyes before he responds with the cheesiest line, "Consider me hacked." *cough* my blog title *cough* Although it's cheesy, and Ryder proceeds to make out with him to get him to stop talking, I love that it suggests that Ryder has full access to Reyes, he would tell them anything if they asked.

Almost equally, I love the other response where Ryder answers a bit more seriously, saying that Reyes is someone who will always have secrets because it's who he is as a person, and for him to just not lie about the big stuff. Reyes proceeds to thank Ryder for accepting him as he is. And you guys 🥺 it's just so sweet knowing these are the 2 responses, like I need a moment every time I think about them & I wish we could choose both cause guhhhh

Anyway, now that I've essentially covered things about Ryder, Reyes, and their relationship, let me get down to the core of the fic I had wanted to write. So this part is all headcanon, not something brought up in the game (T.T)

Ryder needs a break, as important as outposts are, they go through so much with little time to recover or process certain events. Reyes comes accross as someone who will make sure his partner isn't overworking themselves and is taking proper rest. He becomes a place of peace for Ryder, somewhere for them to just be & not feel the weight of the Initiative on their shoulders. Ryder is able to sleep more when visiting Reyes due to his comforting presence. Sometimes he'll find them asleep in his room and he makes sure they're not disturbed, allowing them to sleep, while he works silently next to them. And on rare occasions, Reyes will fall asleep while resting his head on Ryder's lap. And both of these scenarios lead to a lot of picture taking of each other lol.

Meanwhile, Ryder is someone who keeps Reyes grounded. They have a way of bringing out different sides to him, that he doesn't show anyone else; for example, protectiveness, fond/genuine playfulness, a romantic side, vulnerability, and so on.

Both of them are busy people and I like to think that they make sure to make time for each other & make sure they don't get bothered when they are together. Considering Reyes is mostly on Kadara, and since Ryder is out and about all over Andromeda, they have a lot to talk about and catch up on whenever they meet up.

Anyway, this is pretty much what I have to say. I'm not sure how to end this, but again I'd like to state that these are my opinions; and although I referred to Ryder as they/them, I wrote this with my Pathfinder, Alma Ryder, in mind, so I understand these feelings are not universal. Also, as I mentioned before, some of what I wrote, are headcanons and just how I interpreted Reyes' character and his relationship to (my) Ryder.

[musicmanstuff]

⛯

The Point Reyes Lighthouse (Point Reyes Light or the Point Reyes Light Station) is a lighthouse in Marin County California at Point Reyes National Seashore. It’s one of the few lighthouses that you can go inside and look around.

Built in 1875, it’s been a beacon for countless seafaring folks along a treacherous stretch of coast, considered the second-foggiest place in the world and regularly whipped by stiff northwest winds. The highest winds recorded at the lighthouse were 133 mph.

[joqatana]

Today I

Did 7 minutes light therapy

Trimmed the pearls

Did yoga

Drove to Petaluma for edibles & picked up a nail in my tire. Second car expense this Retrograde.

Met a very nice cat at the tire shop.

Drove to Point Reyes Station & delivered the pearls. Got to see the reservoir nearly full.

Drove through Samuel Taylor Park in the redwoods to what used to be the golf course, now a re-wilding open space

Found a mirror

Got stalked by a humonguous dragonfly

Stuffed a Little Free Library with an entire SF series I didn’t want anymore.

Got a text from ex-boyfriend who pretended to be a hippie in the 80s because hippies with pockets full of interesting substances got lucky.

He is now a gun nut anti abortion conservative who thinks his lesbian daughter owes him grandchildren. Had to remind him that all kinds of queer people have kids.

Anyway, no, he can’t stay on my couch for a few days.

And I only have one ex now that I’m still speaking to and he’s not online much anymore. I miss him.

Tomorrow I might do last years taxes. Might not.

9/7/23

[blacklodgemusictx]

Salim Nourallah: Record Release Mini Tour - Night One

Standing in front of the Lonesome Rose honky tonk in San Antonio, I am keenly reminded of what it was *not* when I last stood here. When last here it was January. It was not 95 degrees.

I’m starting to sweat. I gravitate to available outdoor seating: a row of what appears to be old movie theater chairs… stuffing coming out through loose cushion stitches appears to be *squint* hair…?

Jason Garner is there. I’ve never actually spoken to him, but with his bare, tattooed arms and cheerful blue mohawk, he’s recognizable to say the least. He’s crouched over taking pictures of a cactus by the stairs. The cactus is smiling.

“We’ve never actually met. We’re LizNDoug (run it together. All one word. Can’t have one without the other… like peanut butter and jelly)… Salim’s friends.”

Sure! He’s seen us at shows. The same way we’ve seen him. He disappears inside to see if a Salim could be located. No, he’s gone off to eat.

I continue wilting. It’s 15 minutes to the announced door time, but there is no one around. Absolutely no one. The key to walking in where you may or may not belong is confidence. Just walk in. So we did.

The difference between the bright sunshine and the low light dazzles my eyes. A benevolent shadow form coalesces and hugs me. My eyes adjust. Olivia Willson-Piper. There she is being happy to see me again - still getting use to that: kind people being happy to see me for no other reason than my basic existence. She’s there with Marty having a bite to eat.

Marty is a vegetarian. He informs us while delicately unwrapping his… wrap (?) that he also doesn’t like peppers. He tweezes them out while we chat.

Olivia and I end up under a light source comparing tattoos. I start naming off the menagerie of animals that dot my arms. And let slip that my favorite chicken - an artistically rendered Lavender Orpington on my left forearm- is called Olivia. She seems delighted.

John Dufhilo appears. I haven’t really ever spoken to him before, but just like Jason Garner, he is immediately recognizable. We are Salim facilitated Facebook friends and not too long ago, I added my voice to those on said social media platform rejoicing as he recovered from a massive heart attack. He surprises and delights me with a hug. It is wonderful seeing him well and hearty.

Joe Reyes is there. We know him a little better than some of these satellites we have met in Salim’s orbit. He has the best smile. Seems genuinely delighted to just be in a room with air. The addition of friends and the opportunity to play music? Even better.

At some point Salim appears. It’s hard to talk amidst the bustle of a bar waking up for its nightly duties. Something upsetting happened to him the day before. I hug him. I got nightmare family news (related to the nightmare of my family… namely it’s toppled, usurped, disgraced patriarch. Daddy issues? I’ll have a lifetime subscription) this very day and have spent a good portion of my afternoon crying.

He’s going to play, “Let Go” from his new album, he tells me. I like it… this is an excellent idea. The *only* thing that would give me peace right now is that very [impossible] action.

Time passes. Positions shift. Marty dons glasses and moves to a different table. He looks like a stern bookkeeper going over accounts. In reality, he’s making a setlist.

More time passes. I don’t mind the wait. To get my fix in the vicinity of musicians, I used to queue up first thing in the morning and spend all day without food or water to be first in, front row for The Flaming Lips. My only reward for that might be a faraway wave from Steven or a chat with Kliph.

Sitting inside the dark and cool, talking to these fascinating people - my friends - this is heaven.

Early on, Doug is recruited to run merch. I’m not surprised. The merch table has become our station. Doug is in his element. Me? I’ll helpfully point at the records. Tell people after the set where the songs they thought were catchy originated. Tell them ‘A Nuclear Winter’ yes, that’s the newest one. But I stand here next to him proudly. Whatever you need. Whatever helps.

Salim and the Treefort Five are first to play tonight (he tells me later their new name is ‘Salim and the Philistines.’)

I am deeply deeply biased at this point… but they sound incredible to me. Seeing Salim backed by a full band… he comes alive in a completely new way as a performer. I’ve been lucky enough to behold this two other times - Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas in 2019. Then this year (2023) opening for the Old 97s. I love my friend as an energetic front man.

This time is different and monumental. This time Marty. Marty Willson-Piper formerly of Australian band The Church (this man is the whole reason we were brought in to warm regard of Salim Nourallah - he and Doug share a mutual love of The Church.)

Marty and Olivia came over in 2018 to be enfolded in to the Nourallah musical family. Recording, producing has happened even with a global pandemic to work around.

This is work coming to fruition. Nuclear Winter finally birthed. Marty is finally on stage by Salim’s side. I know this is monumental for him and I love it. I love witnessing this. I love being here. Love that he wants me here. Love that these amazing people jam packed in to this tiny room are our friends now too.

The amassed gents rip through a mix of Salim standards and a heavy dose of things from the new album.

The set end nears. I’ve snapped my pictures. Taken my videos. All in the name of seeing; witnessing; presence.

Olivia is on stage. I know ‘Friends for Life’ is coming. That’s one she started playing on during the shows 6 mos ago. This one makes me sad. I have a dear dear friend who allowed me to turn him on to Salim (there is no greater compliment than to let me show you the music I love… then love it to). This is his favorite. My friend is in Greenland. I haven’t seen him in months.

Friends for life… if I had to sum up my time with Salim it would be with those three words. If you are lucky enough to ever be on the receiving end of Salim’s regard, you have a friend for life. Just shut up and enjoy the ride.

But then it’s time. Time to ‘Let Go’ - another song made more achingly beautiful with the deft application of Olivia’s bow.

I cry. Bitterly. Let go, he tells me, surrender to the things I can’t control. Best advice possible… I’m so far away from that right now, all I can do is feel sorry for myself.

The set is over. Back to husband in the merch nook (we’ve seen many incarnations. This one is nice. Padded booths made into their own cozy corner.)

I feel wrung out. Physically. Emotionally. An older gentleman asks me if I’m ok. Brings me water. Oh good. I look as bad as I feel.

The Deathray Davies are next. I know John Dufilho fronts this configuration, but I’ve never seen them. I also don’t know how many people are in the band. Musicians appear - to tired eyes - to swarm the stage like clowns from a tiny car.

They tear in to their first song and I like them immediately. Their energy is palpable and consuming. Nick Earl appears to be old school Seattle grunge: rakes his hands across an artfully battered Jazzmaster, long hair hanging in his face.

That energy is catching. I spy my first dancer of the evening. This woman gives no fucks and it is a scene to behold. Her shuck and jive is part Ministry of Silly Walks part scraping-gum-off-her-shoe. She gyrates with an oily self aware sensuality. At one point, her untethered breasts seem in danger of escaping. Not so fast. She doesn’t miss a beat: stuffs the offending mammary back down through the armhole of her sundress. Not today, titty.

She. Is. Magnificent.

Salim is with us at this point. I start relaying what I have seen to Doug. Salim wants in to the conversation. I smile thinking about how I will pay tribute to her, “Just getting inspired.”

It’s at this point, the night takes it’s massive, sudden toll. I’ve got a stabbing pain in the back of my head. Great. When I fantasize about death, it’s quick. I don’t want to stroke out. Here I come, it’s The Big One.

… or I’m hungry and tired and dehydrated.

Salim says it’s ok, you don’t have to stay. Marty and Olivia are already gone. The place has cleared out in a hurry. Even those disciplines of rock have to get home at a reasonable hour on a weekday. There’s work in the morning.

I hate to miss Buttercup, but I don’t think Joe will blame me for feeling poorly.

So we sneak off to the healing powers of Whataburger.

I will live to rock another day.

[pointreyesjournal]

She Has Risen : ep168

We only have a few moments of smooth sailing north in Tomales Bay before we round Pierce Point and are exposed to the turbulent swells of the north Pacific. But, those precious few moments of calm seas provide just enough time to get the boat prepared for rounding the point and setting up a long downwind run toward San Francisco bay.

I always feel exposed in the sea when I’m west of Point Reyes, and today is no different. We’re sailing the same direction as the swells, so the boat is surfing down from the crests and burying its nose at the bottom of the troughs. It’s thrilling and just a wee bit scary at the same time.

After we tack around Pierce Point, we are broad reaching downwind with full sails. There isn’t much for us to do as sailors, except take turns steering, which Henrik and I do (Floody’s shoulder is still on the mend from the crash). We’re on a 48 foot long downwind rocketship.

We make great time past Point Reyes, along Bolinas Bay and Muir Beach, then along toward Stinson Beach. As we round the Point Bonita Lighthouse the majestic Gold Gate Bridge comes into view. It is a sight to behold. As you sail closer, the bridge just keeps getting bigger and bigger! Passing beneath it feels special every time.

It isn’t long before we have the boat in the slip and we’re on our way back to my house in Point Reyes Station. The girls have texted that they’ve got “something special” for us. We arrive a little past 3pm and my house smells like a European bakery.

All three girls are wearing pretty, flowery, springtime dresses.

Me: What’s the special occasion?

Beri: Easter!

Me: Easter was last Sunday.

Beri: It’s Orthodox Easter.

Me: What’s that?

Cheyenne: We don’t actually know. It just said “Orthodox Easter” on the calendar so we thought “fuck it, let’s do Easter again.”

Me: Well all right! That’s awesome.

Autumn: You boys go shower up and we’ll see you back here in a few. Put on something nice.

After three days on the water a shower felt like being dipped in chocolate. I’m beyond thrilled that Autumn suggested we put on something nice. California is so damn casual these days, it’s a joy to actually put on “proper duds” once in a while.

The girls went all out with a coordinated effort on the Easter meal. Roast carrots and veggies, ham, au gratin potatoes … the whole shebang. The table is even set with plates on chargers, a flower centerpiece and cloth napkins. We are properly civilized.

After some white wine and light appetizers the girls corral us and we set down for a meal together.

Henrik: Ladies, I propose a toast to you three. First for ditching out on us at the Salt Water Oyster Depot …

Floody: He cleaned us out at poker, so be thankful you weren’t there.

Henrik: And second for this amazing dinner. What a wonderful surprise. We have so much to be thankful for this year, and so much to look forward to. A baby for Autumn and Floody. A wedding for Beri and I, and a nice long sail in the mediterranean this summer with the six of us.

Cheyenne: Yeah, about that …

[pineryes]

Port orford to hecta head lighthouse

The northern-most lighthouse is nicknamed “Terrible Tilly.” The Tillamook Rock Lighthouse is situated over a mile away from the mainland on a tall basalt rock island and is exposed to fierce Pacific Ocean forces. This one is the shortest (38 feet) Oregon Lighthouse and is definitely worth the visit. We were never able to have sunny weather at the Cape Meares Lighthouse. Just a few miles inland from the coast the weather can be warm and beautiful but at this lighthouse’s location it can be entirely different. This spot can be very windy and we were advised to point our car toward the wind to avoid having the doors blown off! This structure stands on federal land and is part of the Yaquina Head Outstanding Natural Area. The Yaquina Head Lighthouse was first illuminated in 1873 and is 162 feet above sea level. We drove nearby and did not realize that there are two with Yaquina in their names and we missed it. Near the town of Newport is the Yaquina Bay Lighthouse which is the second-oldest standing lighthouse on the Oregon Coast. This may be the most popular Oregon lighthouse. This region of the Oregon Coast north of Florence is beautiful and rugged. The beautiful treed setting is a popular site for weddings and it offers the opportunity to spend the night in the lightkeeper’s house. One of the most striking locations for a lighthouse is found at Heceta Head. This lighthouse is easy to access and it even has its own museum. It is located high on a coastal ridge overlooking the Winchester Bay. Near the town of Reedsport is the Umpqua River Lighthouse. The best views of the lighthouse are along a coastal trail near Sunset Bay State Park. It is set apart from the coastline and is not open to the public. It was commissioned in 1896 and is near the town of Bandon, Oregon.įarther north near the largest town on the southern Oregon coast, Coos Bay, is the Cape Arago Lighthouse. On our second try we were able to visit the Coquille River Lighthouse in good enough weather to photograph. It is the oldest standing lighthouse on the Oregon Coast commissioned in 1870. The most southern lighthouse is the Camp Blanco Lighthouse near the small town of Port Orford. Add in the jagged cliffs and large sand dunes and you have a special place to visit. The rugged coast that is often shrouded with fog and clouds has its own special beauty. It can be cold even in the middle of the summer with the locals building fires on the beach to stay warm. Don’t think for a minute think that these beaches are like Florida beaches. The coast is popular during the summer since the daily temperatures can be 10-20 degrees cooler than the populous central valley of the state. This year we were able to visit the southern Oregon Coast and that allowed us to visit the ones that we had previously missed. Army Corps of Engineers and all the remaining ones have been added to the National Register of Historic Places. Most of the Oregon lighthouses were built between 18 by the U.S. It has taken several trips to the coast but we have been able to visit eight of the nine existing ones. Though there has been a guiding light in the Santa Cruz Harbor since the mid 60s the present lighthouse was only built in 2002, making it the youngest lighthouse of this bunch.The Oregon Coast, also called the “ Peoples Coast” because of the long stretches of land accessible to the public, is home to nine historic lighthouses. Location: Point Fermin Park, San Pedro, Los Angelesġ3 Lighthouses of the West Coast Santa Cruz Breakwater (Walton) Lighthouse Location: Between Florence & Yachats, Oregon You might also be interested in: The Ultimate West Coast Family Road Trip Part 2: Oregon.Location: Umpqua Lighthouse State Park, Oregon You might also be interested in: The Ultimate West Coast Family Road Trip Part 1: Northern California.Location: Point Reyes National Seashore, Point Reyes Station, California You might also be interested in: Half Moon Bay! The Ocean Is Calling….You might also be interested in: Santa Cruz California.Location: Seabright State Beach, Santa Cruz, California Santa Cruz Breakwater (Walton) Lighthouse.

[pharology101]

LOTD: Point Reyes

(from: http://www.ibiblio.org/lighthouse/ca.htm)

Point Reyes (1)

1870. Inactive since 1975 (the light is lit briefly twice a month). 35 ft (10.5 m) 16-sided pyramidal cast iron tower (sibling of Cape Mendocino Light). Buildings painted white; roofs including the lantern roof are red. The original 1st order Fresnel lens is still mounted in the tower. The original keeper's house was demolished and replaced by modern dwellings in 1960. Wood fog signal building (1928). The active light (is mounted on the roof of the fog signal building below the lighthouse. Frank Schulenburg's photo is below, Vicki and Chuck Rogers have a good photo, the park service has a web site on the light station's history, Marinas.com has aerial photos, the Coast Guard has a 1970 historic photo, and Google has a street view and a satellite view. In 2003 the park service completed a major restoration including replacement of the walkway and stairs. In December 2004 the lens received much-needed repairs and planning began for a more complete restoration. In 2018-19 the Park Service carried out a $5 million project that including restoration of the lighthouse and the lens, upgrades to the Visitor Center, and improvements to the grounds and walkway. The Lighthouse Visitor Center offers exhibits and tours. Located on the westernmost point of the Point Reyes peninsula high above the Pacific (the original focal plane was 294 ft (90 m)). Accessible by a short but strenuous walk (with 308 stone stairs) from the parking area. However, the walkway is closed in high winds, which occur frequently. The visitor center is open daily Friday through Monday year round, weather permitting. Owner: U.S. Coast Guard. Site manager: U.S. National Park Service (Point Reyes National Seashore). . ARLHS USA-636.

(full photo found here; ©Frank Shulenburg)

Point Reyes (2)

1975. Active; focal plane 265 ft (81 m); white flash every 5 s. The light is on a sqaure platform atop the A-frame roof of the 1-story fog signal building. Trabas has Boucher's closeup photo of the active light and Google has a satellite view. Located in front of and below the lighthouse. Owner: U.S. Coast Guard. Site manager: U.S. National Park Service (Point Reyes National Seashore). Admiralty G4356; USCG 6-0385.

(full photo found here; ©Boucher)

[rogue-durin-16]

IT'S JUST ME

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n has been playing the matchmaker role for the Easy Company boys since Camp Mackall. Curious about how she is so good at it, George Luz questions his friend about a few things, which leads to one dangerous question; who does the matchmaker fancy?

Pairing: George Luz x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @sparkyluz @chubbypotatoepie

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: mentioned wound, language

A/N: idk man this came to me out of the blue but I kinda liked it. Enjoy some Luz fluff my babies <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Hey!" Luz watched me hop into the observation foxhole in which we were supposed to watch the German lines for the night. "Where were you?"

"Sorry." I apologized for the delay, leaving my rifle by my side in order to nestle against the cold ground behind me, pulling my legs to myself. "I was delivering a message."

"A love message?" He wiggled his brows at me; I smirked, my chest puffed with pride. It seemed stupid, but playing the matchmaker with my friends helped me get by. Kept my head busy and my heart warm at the sight of the men being excited over their respectful sweethearts. "Who was it this time?"

"You know Maggie Sullivan?" He shook his head no. Understandable, she had just came into the aid station a few days prior. The only reason I knew who her name was because I had been sent to the aid station due to a shrapnel wound three days ago. "New nurse. Irish." I explained, silently thanking Luz when he handed me a can filled with coffee. "A complete sweetheart— you'd love her. Malarkey came to visit me the other day—"

"And he came across this sweetheart." Luz finished with a knowing grin. I nodded and he let out a chuckle, taking back the can he had just given me to take a swig himself. "How'd you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The go-between, liaison moment." I shrugged indifferent. "How'd you get the information to do that? 'cause you never fail." He pointed out, leaving the coffee aside and lighting on a cigarette.

"Dunno, just talk to people," I leaned over George, taking the cigarette off his lips to take a drag of it.

"You never talk to me."He didn't complain, instead he lit himself another one.

"I always talk to you."

"Not 'bout this."

"Well, you never tell me anything."

"Touché."

"They all eventually spill the beans." I continued, smoke leaving my lips mixed with my frozen breath. "And then I help if I can." George stared at me for a second, his brows furrowed and a smile of disbelief. "What?"

"There's no way you keep track of everyone's flings and heartaches." He shook his head, staring into the seemingly lifeless forest.

"Ask and I'll tell ya." I suggested.

"Well—" George motioned me to come closer to him, probably because the two of us were shivering like crazy, even with the new winter clothing. "I'll start with the easy one— Muck."

I shook my head no. "Doesn't count, he got Faye back at home." I put off the cigarette and shoved it into my front pocket; I'd finish it once I wasn't about to lose my fingers out of frostbite. I buried my gloveless hands into my pockets, but there was no use.

"True." Luz pondered, relocating my scarf so it would cover my neck better. "There." His finger, lightly caressing my freezing cheekbone, along with that distracted smile of his that lit his face warmed me up better than any jacket. "What 'bout Toye?"

"Private Sylvia Williams, from I company." I braced myself, trying to keep the cold at bay once Luz moved back to his place. "Think they've been seein' each other for some time now."

"Guarnere?"

"Alma Reyes." I tsked, wincing. "Unrequited. Though there's a couple of gals after him."

"Penkala?"

"Y'know that WAC officer who used to come in to talk to Winters?"

"Charity Addams?"

"That one." Luz raised his brows in disbelief. "Hope Penk gets to take her dancin' sometime after we leave this hell hole, cause I can't really help with that one."

"Christ." George snorted. "Penk likes 'em older, doesn't he?" I knew he was storing all this information for latter teasing and joking, but I didn't mind; I was aware that the boy besides me knew very well who could and couldn't take a joke.

There was a moment of silence in which we limited ourselves to watch the line, as we were supposed to.

"What about you, Y/n/n?" I hummed questioningly, prompting him to speak. "You fancy someone?"

I spared him a look with my brow quirked and a half smile dancing on my lips.

"Ooohhh" a mischievous smirk tugged on the corners of his lips. "Who d'you fancy?"

"You'd love to know that, wouldn't you?" I spared myself from giving him an answer, turning my eyes back to the woods before us.

"Is it Liebgott?" Oh no, he was at it. "Muck?"

"Luz, you're not gonna—"

"Babe? Is it Babe?" George was like a dog with a bone. If he wanted to know something, he would get that information eventually out of persistence. "It's not Eugene, is it?"

"Luz, c'mon." I began to get nervous. How long would it take for him to name himself? And what would I say to that?

"Buck? Tell me it's not Buck."

"George." I gave him a warning look. "Stop. I'm not tellin' ya."

"Alright."

There was another moment of silence, in which I dared to let go of the tension that had kept me on edge during Luz's little guessing game. Poor me, my peace was soon disturbed by George's knee falling against mine.

At first I thought it was unintentional, but when he scooted closer, the anxiety that had just left my body rushed back in.

I refused to look at him while his gloved hands, after putting his cigarette off too, found mines, gently picking them up. "You're really freezin', aren't ya?"

"Ain't we all?"

"Yeah, but you got no gloves."

"Can't shoot with gloves." I attempted to sound as relaxed as possible, but it was turning out to be a challenge due to him blowing hot air into his hands to warm up mine, his lips ghosting over my fingers. "The ones they got me are way too big."

Then he looked up at me and I saw it. He was doing so well in his attempt to throw me off and lure me into disclosing the information he wanted to hear; sadly, his intentions where plastered a little too clearly in his eyes.

"Luz," I began, leaning painfully slowly on him without breaking eye contact, which turned out to be one of the toughest thing I had done in my life —and I was a paratrooper—. "If you're trying to bribe me into tellin' ya who I fancy," I stopped at mere inches from his lips. "It's not gonna work." I said before retreating to my initial position, looking away and therefore missing the way George's lips had tried to chase mines.

"I'll tell you who I fancy." He tried to make a deal, but I knew better than to trust those words.

"I don't need ya to tell me."

"How come?"

"I know who's caught your eye."

"Really?" The mischievous sparkle of his dark eyes seemed to be dimmed by... fear? Maybe disappointment? With Luz, negative emotions were always so difficult to tell. "And who might the lucky lady be?"

"Unlucky, you mean." He smacked my arm at my joke. "Harriet McCoy." I smugly stated, confident on my information. I thought it would be easier to believe the aid station nurse's feelings for the Portuguese jokester were requited, in order to get over my own feelings for him —he was my friend, anything more than that was not even up to consideration—; instead, it just pained me, weighing on my chest like a ton of bricks.

"Who the hell's Harriet?" He inquired with knitted brows, his hands still warming up mines.

"Luz, we're friends. You won't fool me." I assured him, darting the Technician a knowing glance. "Plus, no need to pretend, she likes you back."

"No, really, who's that?" He asked, shifting on his place in order to turn to me.

"George, c'mon." I don't know what baffled me more; the clueless look on his face, or the ingrowing grin that twitched up the corner of his lips. "Copper hair, short, sorta shy?"

"Oh! Yeah, she's a looker." George confessed with a shrug, turning to face the line. "I don't fancy her, though."

"In that case, I'm sorry for the poor thing." I responded, remembering how a mere couple of hours ago when I was leaving the aid station, Harriet had been gushing over George to me —something I had found quite unpleasant, but I was used to it.

Silence.

"Is there any other girl who has her eyes on me?"

"A few." I nonchalantly responded.

"Oh really?" He sounded amused, maybe even proud.

"I mean, you're really funny, cheery, loud, and good-looking too." I casually stated. "More than one girl would like that in her life."

"May I know their names?"

Positive side of this turn the conversation had taken? He was no longer pushy about my love life —or lack of it, for what was worth—; negative side? Now I had to talk about all the girls I could lose George to.

"Hazel Smith, Marjorie Warren, Nora Samuels and Ida Donahue." I, for obvious reasons, abstained myself from adding my name to the list.

"Ida Donahue?" He asked in disbelief. "The Ida Donahue? From Able Company? That Ida Donahue?"

"Yes, George." I confirmed, jealousy inevitably slipping through my words like drops of poison staining a healthy conversation between friends. "Stunning, talented, clever Ida Donahue, from A Company."

"Ida fucking Donahue fancies me, huh?" Despite being biased by my feelings, I understood the fuss George was making about the new acquired information.

Ida was the It Girl. She was the first woman to enter the Airborne, paving the way for the handful of us who had managed to get in after her; she was smart, kind, gorgeous and affable, and the best shot Able company had. She was a perfect catch.

George puffed. "Pity I don't fancy her back."

That stupid smirk was still dancing on his face, and for some reason I couldn't pinpoint, it began to anger me.

"Damn, Luz," I scoffed, scrutinizing the woods in front of us in search for a menace. "you must be the only man in the 101st who's not head over heels over Ida fuckin' Donahue."

"Well, only one lady owns my heart, and that's not Ida." He casually said, giving me a side eye, knowing he got me where he wanted to.

"And who's the girl?" I asked, curiosity and jealousy getting the best of me. I didn't really want to know, but something inside me was begging me to ask.

"I'll tell you." He blew air on my hands again, his dark irises promising trouble. "If you tell me who stole our matchmaker's heart."

"Why are you like that?" I inquired, about to burst with the turmoil of emotions that had been mixing in my chest during the whole conversation.

"I'm a curious fella, what can I do?" His voice had dropped an octave, which was never good; for any other girl, it could mean a good time, but for me it only meant torture.

"Curiosity killed the cat." I spat, struggling to get a hold of the mess I was.

"You can kill me after you tell me." He insisted in a whispery tone. "Your secret's safe with me Y/n/n."

Given the thrilled look of anticipation on his gaze, I assumed that he didn't really know where this conversation would end up if he kept it going, or how bad the ending would be.

He couldn't know.

"I really don't wanna tell you." It came out as a mumble fueled by anxiety, which seemed to worry George, but he kept going nonetheless.

"C'mon, Y/n, it's just good ol' George Luz." He murmured insistently, tugging on my hands. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

I slowly shook my head no, the duty of watching the line long forgotten, as my body was completely turned to the side, facing him, just like his was facing mine.

"I'm your friend, Y/n, c'mon."

"That's the problem." I whined, my head tilted to the side to rest my temple against the cold ground.

"How's that the problem? it's just me." I desperately wanted to move away from George because I couldn't breathe, but it seemed impossible to get my body to obey me when he was so close to me.

In fact, I subconsciously and very slightly scooted closer to him. At some point, my legs had ended up on top of one of his, and I was only now becoming aware of that.

"It's just me." He repeated, even softer this time. I once again shook my head no, my teary eyed orbs falling on George's lips with a defeated gaze.

He knew.

He had to know.

George Luz wasn't stupid, if he was pushing so badly about the topic, he must have had a clue of which way the wind was blowing; sadly, I was realizing that just in that instant, when there was no turning back.

"It's just me." He sounded dazed, but I couldn't tell why. I also couldn't tell how close and tangled we were —not until his nose lightly bumped mine, anyway. For whatever reason, though, I didn't shy away.

No matter how anxious this conversation was making me, George had always and would always mean comfort.

Due to the overwhelming mixture of emotions I was going through, I didn't really put together what was happening, so I just held onto George's hand like I had done countless times before when the world became too much.

Only this time the world was becoming too much because of him, because of his calloused thumb wiping away the one tear I had spilled out of stress, because of his breath tickling my cheeks, because of his hand gripping mine just as tight as mine gripped his.

"It's just me, Y/n." He breathed out one last time, his lips ghosting over mines.

"It's just you." I replied, so quietly that I doubted he had heard me.

We didn't even have to move for our mouths to meet; they fit like puzzle pieces.

The kiss didn't make my heartbeat pound even faster; on the contrary, it slowed it down, making the panic that was flooding my system a moment ago dissipate.

His free hand caressed my cheek in the most loving way before traveling all the way down to my hip; meanwhile, one of my palms had left the comfort of his hold in order to snake my arm around his neck, not to pull him closer but to hold him there.

It then dawned on me that I was the girl in his heart, just like he was the boy in mine, and all of those moments we shared that by default I had passed as close friendship started to make sense.

"Luz! Y/l/n!" We both gasped, pulling away enough for me to instinctively reach for my M1. "The hell are you doin'?!"

"Jesus Christ, Doc." Luz run his hands over his face, exhaling. "One day you're gonna get yourself shot for sneaking up to people like a fuckin' cat."

"Watch the goddamn line." Roe sternly ordered Luz, turning his attention to me. "Just came to check if that shrapnel wound is doin' alright."

He hopped into the foxhole between me and George, making us reluctantly move further from each other.

I removed my scarf and unbuttoned the upper part of my coat, jacket and shirt, letting my most recent wound visible to the medic.

I caught Luz bending to check on me a couple of times, instead of the line, as he had been told to do.

"Okay, you're good." Gene concluded, patting my arm before moving back out of the foxhole, slapping George's helmet on his way. "Do your job."

"Aye, Doc." He watched Roe go and, once he was back in his foxhole, George's head spun to me, brows raised and lips pursed; Luz's facial expressions somehow always made everyone laugh, and I was no exception.

I covered my mouth to muffle my wheezing while George attempted not very efficiently to shush me, as he was cackling too.

Once we managed to quiet down, now sitting relatively far from each other, we kept stealing glances at one another, nervous, pleased and thrilled all at once.

"Y'know," George pushed himself up to move closer to me. "You're like, at least ten times better than Ida Donahue."

"George Luz," I followed his lead, moving so we would sit together at the center of the foxhole. "such a sweetheart you are." He sported a prideful smile as he winked at me. "But you're a horrible liar."

"How dare you?" He gave me a push, feigning indignation. "I'm a magnificent liar, Y/n Y/l/n." I denied with an amused grin; he let that slide, choosing to, instead, take back both my hands in his. "So, where were we— ah, yes." He tugged on me, his eyes twinkling with happiness and his gaze promising tons of teasing. "You were gonna tell me who you fancy."

Tilting my chin up, I leaned in for another kiss, which George very eagerly began to deepen. It was then that I pulled back with a smug plastered on my face, which grew wider when, for a second, I got to see his lips parted and eyelids closed, wistful and eager.

"I'm not telling you." I whispered, giving his nose a peck while he opened his eyes.

"You're terrible." George complained, throwing his arm over my shoulder in order to pull me closer as we watched the line.

[cloveroctobers]

September prompts — 30. Nightgown ; Angel Reyes

September song choice: Doja Cat, “Love to dream”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•^•^*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Angel Reyes always had the nerve and the fucking audacity. At least you could say he was always consistent with the way he carried himself and you still loved his ass no matter how much he got up underneath your skin. You had just drifted off to sleep, curled up on your side after struggling to sleep for the past two hours. You planned everything accordingly even with your bad mood and got into bed at a decent hour just for your mind to scream, “sike!”

You weren’t sure how long you had dosed off but it only felt like a second when your phone went off. You wanted to ignore it and you thought you had your phone on do not disturb but since you didn’t you snatched it off your night table to answer it.

“Hello.” You grumbled.

There was a pause, “is this the gremlin services?”

How corny.

“Angel. The fuck do you want, it’s 1am.”

He laughed, “yeah so funny story—

“I’m going to hang up if you don’t get to the point.”

“I don’t know if anybody’s ever told you this but you’re mean as hell in the mornings, just so you know.” Angel started.

You pulled the phone from your ear and slammed it down on the nightstand but still found yourself putting it on speaker, “you’re not the first and certainly won’t be the last. Have you met my dad? Mr. early bird catches the worm? He’s been on my ass for years about sleeping, a basic human necessity that you’re ruining right now in fact. He called me a whole ass demon when I was like three because I bit his leg one morning because I wanted to sleep rather than go to daycare.”

“He’s not wrong.” Angel commented.

You hummed, “what do you want?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“I just said I was sleeping.”

“But you’re talkin’ to me right now.”

You pinched the space in between your brows trying to count to ten before the anthem of DMX’s, “Party up” began to sound off in your head.

“Aight, I don’t have much time left in this call but I need you to come scoop me from where the pigs lay.”

Your eyes peeled back open as you took some seconds to process that. Did you miss the automated message before you heard angel’s voice? He really felt the need to call you of all people to get him from jail when he had his many brothers? See that. That was some bullshit. So you said nothing choosing to hang up on him instead to check your phone to see multiple texts from EZ and Coco but mostly EZ. He let you know the bail was paid for but someone just needed to get Angel since EZ was out of town on “business” and coco straight up said he wasn’t doing that shit, he apparently had the runs.

Rolling onto your back you took the time to stare up at your ceiling wondering how your life got to this point. That was simple: Angel fucking Reyes. He wasn’t even your man…anymore but yet you still allowed him to have some sort of access to you and you hated yourself for it every time you found yourself in situations like these.

It didn’t take long for you to get down to the station but you wouldn’t lie and say that you didn’t take your sweet time. You took back roads that you normally wouldn’t take at night just to make Angel wonder if he would or wouldn’t be spending the night in jail. Once you placed your ‘67 mustang coupe in park you climbed out of the car, making your way around your vehicle to see Angel coming out lighting up a cigarette. He looked up just in time to see you and drifted his eyes downwards to look at your appearance.

“The hell do you have on, Muñeca?”

Crossing your arms you poked your hip out as you glared at taller man, “are you honestly so concerned about my attire instead of the fact that you woke me up out of my sleep to come get your ass? What got you here tonight Angel?”

Angel stepped to you, “I wasn’t sure you were even gonna come.” He admitted, “and the pig was just starting shit for no reason, you know how that goes.”

You did.

“Thankfully you and ez’s friend, the only decent pig here, franky had my back.” Angel informed now standing in front of you.

Franky Rogan was a good friend to you and Ez. He was actually one along with the very few black kids here (plus the Afro-latinx…the one’s who bothered to claim themselves as such or acknowledged that) in Santo Padre that you engaged with. You and Franky were the same age while ez was two years behind, the three of you meeting in automotive technology class.

You huffed holding out your arms as if to say, ‘what about me?!’ But that just have Angel the opportunity to shake his head at your outfit again.

“Can’t believe you slid through to get me in a fuckin’ nightgown—I’m sure my abuelita probably owed and a bonnet.”

You scrunched your lips mocking the bearded man, “I can’t believe you slid through, oh shut up Angel! You selfishly woke me up to come all the way out here to get you at 1 in the morning—

“I’m just saying you couldn’t have thrown on one of those sexy silk slips instead? Make this feel like a real welcome home party?” Angel brought the cigarette back up to his lips.

DMX was surely playing now. You reached your fingers up and snatched the cigarette from his lips and flicked it to the ground. Angel held his mouth agape at your actions but refrained from saying anything more as he turned to you pointing a finger in his face. He was sure you would poke his eye out with those almond nails and you wouldn’t feel sorry about it either if it happened.

“Listen to you me clearly you bobble headed fruit fly looking asshole, I don’t give two blue fucks what you expected me to come down here in. You woke me up—

You probably weren’t even sleep long. You were probably falling asleep on those shitty Tyler perry shows you made him watch the last time he slept over on in your bed, months ago mouth wide open and shit. But Angel wouldn’t dare say that, not right now anyways. If he did he was sure he would leave here with a possible bleeding mouth and no ride home.

“I am on my damn period and I have cramps up my ass like there’s a ice pick up there every few moments so I don’t need your shit right now.” You explained.

Okay, okay. So maybe Angel felt a little bad. He knew your periods were no joke but he had hope that you would always be down for him and here you were regardless of your cycle. That made him swell with pride…yet felt the need to keep picking.

“Do you need to change your pamper before we roll? I can wait in the car and drive if you want?” Angel suggested and you felt your eye twitch but felt he was being sorta sincere but also an ass since you saw a small smile playing by the corner of his lips.

You quickly inhaled and exhaled before putting your back to Angel and letting out a scream with your mouth still closed for a few seconds. As you stood back up Angel cautiously made his way over to you wrapping his arms around your shoulders to place a kiss on the back of your bonnet. You shrugged him off a couple of times but he wouldn’t budge—of course not. It was clear you might have needed a simple snuggle and for Angel to be a considerate.

“Thank you for doing this, mi querida. I really do appreciate it even though I like to piss you off sometimes.” He said into your ear before sliding his hand down your arm to pluck the keys from your hand.

He walked around sending you a wink before he opened the car door for you, “is your new weekend man who looks like one of my cousins at your place tonight? I wanna crash at your place make you some of that red raspberry leaf tea shit and rub ya boobs if it’ll make you feel any better?”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of the new guy you’ve been seeing on and off recently. It made sense Angel always felt the need to bring him up and how he felt like you couldn’t “escape” him since you were searching for other men that shared some resemblance—you didn’t see it but whatever made him sleep at night you guessed.

Climbing into the car, Angel shut the door behind you resting his arms on the door as he awaited your answer. “He’ll be back next weekend.”

Angel grumbled at that which you laughed caressing his beard.

“You can stay and make me that tea but keep your hands to yourself.” You warned which made Angel grin as he jumped up to get into the driver’s seat.

He started to the engine, “I can do that as long as you keep that little red riding hood’s grandma nightgown on.” He laughed.

You can bet a nice karate chop was sent to his throat which caused more bickering on the car ride back to your place.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*••**•*•*•*•*••***•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Follow along with my September series here.

[graveyardrabbit]

all the lighthouses I’ve been to/seen so far

Point Bonita Lighthouse

Point Reyes Lighthouse

former site of the Mile Rocks Lighthouse

Pigeon Point Light Station

Santa Cruz Breakwater Lighthouse

Santa Cruz Light

Lime Point Lighthouse

Fort Point Light

[rafael-silva]

free falling: a tarlos fic

A successful rescue is turned on its head when the combination of a strong storm and a ground tremor leaves TK hurt on a call, his team working quickly and efficiently to get him to safety. Carlos holds his breath while he waits to find out TK’s fate, praying he doesn’t lose the love of his life.

The aftermath is filled with comfort and love, with some revelations and heartwarming moments along the way.

hurt tk strand, worried carlos reyes, whump, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, comfort, kisses, angst with a happy ending, team as family

whumptober 2021: day 26 - fallen

6.3k | rated T | on ao3

*****

The storm had been raging for nearly three hours, with strong wind and pouring rain, lighting flashing and thunder crashing every once in a while. The severity of the storm had reached the point where firehouses were ordered to stay put until it eased up, and they’d start getting calls when it was safer to leave the station.

The 126 bells went off when the rain had decreased to a light shower, the firefighters piling into the truck, the paramedics into the rig, their sirens wailing as they left the firehouse.

They arrive at the call ten minutes later, and at first glance, it appears the slippery mud and falling rain were the main contributors to this car accident.

The crew disembarks their vehicles and start assessing the situation, each of them gathering their equipment and tools and waiting for instructions from their captains.

Three cars have crashed into each other, one of them in the middle of the road while the other has its hood smashed against the passenger and back doors. The smoke seeping from under the hood is quickly taken care of by Paul, armed with the extinguisher and moving quickly. The third car, however, seems to have been pushed during the accident and is located near the edge of the road, right on the cliff and it’s quickly losing its balance.

More police cruisers arrive then and TK takes his eyes off the scene for a moment and turns to the incoming cars.

He immediately spots Carlos getting out of the driver’s seat of his patrol car, and butterflies start singing in his stomach. The effect Carlos always has on TK, it leaves the paramedic amazed every time he lies his eyes on his boyfriend. Carlos finds TK right away, sensing the younger man’s gaze and they share quick nods before turning back to their jobs.

Tommy starts calling for more ambulances as they round the first two cars to check on the people inside, hearing Owen call for more companies and sends Judd and Paul to check on the third car.

The three paramedics move quickly to check the drivers and passengers of the cars in the middle of the road. They learn that no one has any life threatening injuries, just scrapes and bruises and they’re all breathing normally and no one had lost consciousness.

Another firetruck and ambulance arrives then and take over that part of the scene, while the 126 redirect their attention to the car near the cliff.

“A driver and a passenger, brother and sister, she’s doing okay. She’s got a cut on her head but it doesn’t look deep. He, on the other hand, isn’t doing great. He’s got a piece of broken glass stuck in his thigh and he’s bleeding pretty badly,” Judd relays the information. “It’s gonna be tough getting to him, he’s the driver.”

TK very carefully approaches the car and sees exactly what Judd means. The driver’s side is the one by the edge of the cliff and by the looks of it, the car is losing stability very quickly.

“He needs a tourniquet,” Tommy says, looking from Judd to Owen. “We can’t wait until we get her out and go in through the passenger side.”

Owen nods. “We’ll secure the car and repel down the cliff, apply the tourniquet and get him out from her side once we get the passenger door opened.”

“I can do it,” TK speaks up and all pairs of eyes turn to him. “I got this, I’ll be quick.”

They all know TK’s got the training for it and every second counts, so Owen nods and gives out more instructions.

The crew begin to stabilize the car while TK starts to get the harness on. He’s looking down to secure it around his body and doesn’t notice Carlos approach him, the officer’s eyebrows tightly knitted together.

TK looks up to see Carlos’s brown eyes emitting concern, his shoulders tense and jaw set.

“I’m gonna repel down the side of the cliff, the driver needs a tourniquet and we can’t wait to get the passenger out first,” TK explains, tightening the straps around his thigh.

Carlos swallows and nods. He knows TK is good at his job, he trusts in that and doesn’t doubt it for a second, but still, he can’t help but worry about TK in situations like these.

“Please be careful,” Carlos says.

“I got this, babe,” TK reassures Carlos once he’s done with the harness.

“I know you do,” Carlos replies, giving TK a small smile, which TK promptly returns.

The tension rises as TK begins to repel down the cliff, the whole team simultaneously holding their breaths. Carlos, after checking with Mitchell that she’s got everything under control, moves close to Owen, standing near the captain and Judd, and worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

A gust of cold wind sends a shiver through Carlos’s body, his skin prickling with goosebumps and he draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, eyes fixed on TK.

“How’s everyone doing?” TK asks, looking into the car.

“Okay,” the man replies, his voice weak and low.

“I’m TK,” he introduces.

“Noah,” the man responds.

“Amy.”

“We’ll get you guys out in no time,” TK continues. “I just need to put this tourniquet on your thigh, Noah. Just hang on.”

Noah nods, closing his eyes.

“I need you to keep your eyes open, Noah. Yeah, that’s it. Applying the tourniquet now,” TK says into his radio. “How are you doing, Amy?”

“Just got a headache,” she replies.

“I’m gonna need you to stay awake, too, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s too dangerous to try opening the door to work so TK has to reach in through the broken window to apply the tourniquet, which makes it more challenging. TK manages to wrap it around Noah’s thigh with no problems, and gives a warning before tightening it.

“You’re gonna feel some pressure and pain, Noah,” TK says as he begins to fasten the tourniquet.

Noah groans and grinds his teeth together, face scrunching up in pain.

“All done,” TK says a moment later, watching the blood flow decrease. “Tourniquet is secured,” he reports into his radio.

“Copy that,” Owen replies.

TK climbs back up and rounds the car, and Carlos lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing TK on solid ground.

TK takes the couple of seconds he can spare to glance at Carlos and gives him a soft smile that says I’m okay and Carlos smiles back, saying I know. The officer can breathe a little easier now and turns back to the rest of the scene. He rejoins his partner and continues taking statements from the passengers of the two other cars.

Marjan starts working on opening the passenger door with the jaws while TK makes his way to Tommy and Nancy.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, his breathing is elevated and he’s pale,” TK explains. “She’s complaining of a headache and she looked a little dazed but doesn’t have any external injuries aside from the cut Judd mentioned.”

Tommy nods. “We’ll need to give him fluids to stabilize him and apply dressings to his wound and she most likely has a concussion. Nancy, get the fluids ready for him and TK, go talk to them while the door is being worked on. Keep them calm and awake.”

“Yes, Cap,” TK and Nancy reply in one breath and start moving.

“Hey, Amy, how are you guys doing?” TK says once he’s next to Marjan.

“O-okay,” Amy replies, her voice trembling and low.

“My friend Marjan here is working on opening the door so we can get you both out,” TK informs them, keeping his voice calm. “Amy, we’ll get you out first and then we’ll get Noah.”

“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t you get him out first?” Amy’s eyes go wide a little. “He’s hurt more than I am. Oh God, he’s hurt so badly and the ground was so slippery and the cars just—”

“Hey, hey, Amy,” TK is quick to jump in. “Look at me, focus on me,” he guides her and a moment later, her terrified eyes land on TK’s face. “I need you to breathe, okay? I know it’s scary but I need you to take a deep breath and slowly exhale. We got you both.”

The sound of creaking metal as it’s torn apart gets louder before the door pops open and Marjan steps to the side when Tommy and Nancy approach.

“Let’s get you out of here,” TK says, accepting the c-collar from Nancy and cutting the seatbelt after wrapping it around Amy’s neck.

TK and Nancy gently move Amy to the backboard and then to the gurney, another group of paramedics taking over her care.

She clutches TK’s hand as she’s wheeled away. “Noah, please…”

“We’re getting him out now,” TK reassures her.

Very carefully, TK gets into the car through the passenger side and puts the c-collar on the other man.

“Hey, Noah, how are you doing?” TK starts.

“Okay,” Noah replies weakly.

“Just hang on, you’ll be out of here in no time,” TK responds.

Just as he’s about to cut the seatbelt, he hears heavy raindrops falling on the car ceiling.

“Backboard!”

A moment later, the backboard is situated so TK can lean Noah to the side and onto it, careful not to loosen the tourniquet as they move. Once he’s secured to the backboard, Tommy and Nancy help get him on the gurney and immediately start working on him.

TK gets out of the car and draws in a deep breath, looking up at the sky and squinting his eyes against the rainfall. He feels a hand patting his shoulder and turns to find Judd standing next to him, giving him a proud smile.

TK returns the smile and nods.

TK is about to join his team to continue working on Noah just as Judd moves closer to the car and to the edge to further assess how they’re pulling it back from the cliff when the ground starts to shake.

On instinct, TK leaps towards Judd, pulling him away from the edge and their eyes connect for a second, both their eyes blown wide. During that second, TK knows what’s going to happen before it does.

And then he’s falling, reaching his arm towards Judd as he plummets into darkness. The last thing he hears is Judd yelling out his name from a distance. His last thought before it all goes dark: I don’t want this to be the end.

Judd’s shriek of TK’s name draws everyone’s attention and all heads turn sharply towards the firefighter. They all momentarily exchange worried looks before springing into action, Owen the first one by Judd’s side.

They immediately know what happened without Judd saying anything, Judd yelling TK’s name over and over offering all the explanation necessary. The rest of the crew are grabbing flashlights and joining Owen and Judd at the edge.

On the other side of the scene, Carlos looks in the direction of the firefighters and paramedics and the commotion he sees forms a lump in his throat. He frowns, turning to Mitchell and tells her he’ll be a minute before making his way towards them.

He can’t see TK anywhere and that increases his worry, he can feel the tension even from this distance. But TK was fine, he was on solid ground and they were getting the patients out. Still, the pit in Carlos’s stomach widens and gets hotter with each step he takes. And when he’s in earshot of the crew, his eyes go wide and his heart drops into his knees.

They’re on the cliff, calling out for TK…

Carlos feels like his feet are nailed to the ground while a bucket of ice water was poured over him and has him frozen in place. But it’s only for a moment, and then he’s running towards his friends, screaming out for TK himself.

And the instant he crosses the remaining short distance, a strong pair of arms wrap around him, pulling him away from the edge. Carlos fights against the hold, trying to escape and wiggle his way out while still yelling out TK’s name.

“Reyes, Reyes,” Judd’s strong voice echoes against Carlos’s ear. “I need you to get away from the edge.”

Carlos ignores him. “TK!”

“We’ll get him,” Judd says. “But we can’t have anyone else in danger, too,” Judd continues.

Carlos realizes it’s no use fighting Judd so he stops wriggling and eventually Judd lets him go.

“How are you going to get to him?” Carlos asks around a pant, his worried eyes going back to the cliffside.

“We’ll figure it out,” Judd says.

Judd’s posture is strong and voice heavy but Carlos can see the concern and fear in Judd’s eyes and written all over his face. He knows what TK means to Judd, how he sees him as his little brother and Carlos can see how hard Judd is fighting to keep it together.

Carlos nods and sniffs. He knows that Judd, and the whole team, will do anything and everything to get to TK and bring him back to safety.

Carlos tries to will his racing heart to calm as he turns to Owen when the fire captain starts speaking.

“Judd, Marjan, harness and repel down,” Owen instructs, “and we’ll send down medical equipment after you.”

Owen’s voice is sharp and professional but Carlos can read the underlying panic and worry in the older man’s tone.

“Everyone else, stay back,” Owen orders. “We can’t risk adding any more pressure to the ground than necessary.”

They all move further back as Judd and Marjan get ready. Carlos and Paul exchange a fearful look then Paul’s hand goes to squeeze Carlos’s shoulder in support.

“Keep comms open,” Owen tells Marjan and Judd, who nod. but Carlos barely hears the words over the rushing in his own ears.

Carlos holds his breath as the two firefighters start to descend, the now-heavy rainfall setting a chill in the air and Carlos folds his arms over his chest.

The atmosphere is silent, save for the constant raindrops colliding with surfaces and the ground, the stress evident and pulsating in the air.

A few minutes later, which felt like an eternity, Judd’s voice echoes off the radios.

“Reached the bottom,” Judd announces.

“How’s TK?” Owen immediately asks.

“Pulse is elevated and he’s breathing. But he’s unconscious, and there’s a wound on the side of his head,” Judd replies a few beats later. “And his shoulder looks like it’s dislocated.”

“Secure the c-collar and then apply pressure to the wound,” Tommy leads Judd. “Careful about his shoulder, we’ll need to pop it back in.”

Marjan reaches into the medkit and retrieves the collar, handing it to Judd and then grabs gauze to use for TK’s wound.

“TK? Kid, can you hear me?” Judd speaks, accepting the gauze from Marjan.

He presses it against the side of TK’s face and his eyes remain glued to his unmoving form. Judd can hear the harsh beating of his own heart against his ribcage. He has to get TK out of here, and TK has to be okay. TK pulled him out of the way, getting him out of danger, and if Judd were just a little quicker in realizing what was happening…maybe TK wouldn’t be hurt and unconscious right now.

Judd swallows against the knot in his throat as he turns to face Marjan, who’s carefully running her hands over TK’s body and checking for any more injuries or broken bones.

“Everything seems to be okay but we need to be careful either way,” she tells Judd. “He could have internal bleeding and his whole body is probably one huge bruise.”

Judd nods and takes some comfort in the fact that the bleeding from TK’s head is slowing down.

“There doesn’t seem to be any more external injuries to TK’s body, but he’s still out. Bring down the backboard,” Marjan says into the radio.

“On its way,” Owen replies.

Judd and Marjan look up to see the yellow board being lowered down, and in that moment, Judd hears a rough gasp followed by a painful groan. He whips his head back to TK and sees the younger man’s face crunched up in pain, eyes squeezes tightly together.

“Hey, hey, TK,” Judd calls, quickly and gently placing his hands on TK’s uninjured shoulder to keep him from squirming.

TK tries to curl into himself, his whole body in pain and nerves on fire. But he can’t move much, already weak and Judd’s hold is steady. He opens his eyes and finds Judd’s face, the firefighter’s eyes wide with concern and the flashlight illuminating the darkness around them.

“Judd?”

“Yeah, brother, right here,” Judd nods and gives him a small reassuring smile. “Eyes on me, TK, that’s it,” he adds when TK’s eyes go big with panic and he tries to look around. “I need you to stay still for us, alright?”

TK frowns before Marjan returns with the backboard and some confusion seeps out of TK’s expression.

“Marj,” TK starts but whatever he was gonna say after gets replaced by another groan filled with anguish.

“Talk to us, TK,” Marjan says as she sets the board down next to TK.

“Whole body…hurts,” TK replies through gritted teeth.

“A fall like that would do that,” Marjan points out. “Gave us quite the scare there. But you don’t have any broken bones, but likely have major bruising. We also need to set your dislocated shoulder.”

“TK is awake and responsive but in a lot of pain,” Judd relays to the crew. “We’ll get him out in a few minutes. We’ll help you sit up so we can pop your shoulder back in, okay?”

TK nods, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

Judd and Marjan help TK into a sitting position, and with coordination between the two of them, they expertly slide the joint back into thee socket.

“Shoulder is fixed,” Judd confirms.

“Secure TK’s arm against his body until we get him into an arm sling,” Tommy replies.

The stokes stretcher is lowered as Judd and Marjan follow Tommy’s instructions and get TK on the backboard. Then they carry TK and attach the backboard to the basket and make sure he’s fastened in.

“Bring him up,” Judd says.

Judd and Marjan’s eyes trail the stretcher as it is pulled up before they start to ascend themselves.

Owen takes hold of the stretcher and Tommy is by his side, guiding it down to the ground and then together, they lift the backboard and settle TK on the gurney.

“TK? You with me, son?” Owen asks, leaning over the gurney as Nancy joins Tommy and they start examining TK.

Carlos draws in a breath at seeing TK topside, and more than anything, he wants to run to his boyfriend, to see him, to comfort him, to hear his voice, but he knows TK needs Tommy and Nancy in this moment, that they need to be the ones at TK’s side. So as hard as it is, Carlos stays back, his heart beating a thousand miles as hour in his chest, nervousness rushing through his body, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. He doesn’t want to be in their way, can’t distract them from working on TK. He’ll be at TK’s side when it’s safe.

“Dad,” TK breathes, pain coating his tone.

“We’ve got you, save your energy,” Owen places his hand over TK’s chest.

Tommy and Nancy share a glance, both of them worried for TK, their expression identical but they quickly shift to professionalism, working swiftly and efficiently to stabilize TK.

“Carlos,” TK whispers.

Owen’s head turns to the officer and Carlos immediately understands. His feet are moving the next second, his legs carrying him towards TK and Owen steps aside to make room for Carlos when he reaches them.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos gives TK a reassuring smile, carefully taking his hand and transferring warmth to the injured man.

Tears immediately spring to TK’s eyes, looking at Carlos through his blurry vision. “You’re here,” TK murmurs.

Carlos nods. “I’m here, I’m right here and everything is going to be okay.”

“Hurts,” TK groans, tears rolling down the sides of his face when he blinks.

“I know it does,” Carlos sighs, hating seeing TK in pain and he’s feeling helpless. So he gives TK’s hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to squeeze back to help him ride out the wave of pain and TK does.

They don’t break their eye contact, knowing what they’re simultaneously thinking. For a moment, they both thought they’d never see each other again, that they’d lose what they are and everything they would become. And it shattered both their hearts, scared them to their core and left them cold and feeling empty.

Carlos rubs his thumb over TK’s skin, grounding him and anchoring him, and doing the same for himself, too, their connection speaking volumes and reassuring them they’re both still here.

“Just hang on, TK,” Carlos says, his other hand going to cup TK’s cheek.

TK leans into his touch.

“Let’s move,” comes Tommy’s voice and the gurney is being pushed towards the ambulance.

Carlos searches for Mitchell and when his eyes land on her, she gives him a nod. He feels Owen’s hand on his shoulder after.

“Go,” Owen prompts. “We’ll be right behind the rig.”

Once again, Carlos doesn’t need to be told twice and he hops into the ambulance, instantly going to hold TK’s hand.

Owen closes the doors and drums on the window. A moment later, the sirens start to blare and the wheels start to roll.

TK is in and out of consciousness throughout the ride, Carlos whispering comforting and reassuring words, until they reach the hospital. Tommy communicates the information to the doctor and nurse and then TK is taken away, wheeled through swinging doors where Carlos can’t follow.

The officer closes his eyes and sighs, dropping his head forward and shoulders falling. He turns when he feels a hand on his shoulder and Tommy is giving him a soft expression.

“He’s going to be fine,” she speaks.

Carlos nods and follows her when she moves to the waiting area.

Carlos is leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting over his knees and hands intertwined together. His fingers fidget together, foot tapping against the ceramic floor when his phone rings in his pocket.

He fishes it out and touches the answer button.

“Hey, Owen.”

“Carlos,” Owen replies. “Any updates on TK?”

“Not yet,” Carlos sighs. “They took him for exams and scans and no one’s come to us yet with any updates.”

Owen heavily sighs on the other end. “Okay, we’re on the way now.”

Owen’s words are followed by the firetruck engine coming to life and roaring in the background.

“I’ll call if we get any news,” Carlos promises.

When the firefighters stroll into the waiting room twenty minutes later, there has still been no updates on TK. The crew falls into the plastic chairs, sharing concerned looks and then Marjan and Mateo go to find coffee for everyone.

Instead of sitting down, Judd opts to pace the room, rubbing his hands together and frequently stretching his neck from side to side. Carlos takes note of those gestures, and with how much time he’s been spending with the 126, he believes he’s gotten to know them all pretty well, and that means he can read them all through their body language.

Carlos gets up and walks over to Judd, who stops pacing when the officer stands next to him.

“Hey, Judd,” Carlos starts.

“Hey, Reyes.”

“TK is going to be okay,” Carlos cuts to the chase.

“Yeah, I know,” Judd nods. “He’s tough and strong, he’ll be fine.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything, sensing that Judd is working his way to saying more.

Judd sighs thickly, shaking his head and closing his eyes before facing Carlos again.

“He pulled me from the edge,” Judd eventually says. “He pulled me away from it and he fell instead.”

Carlos swallows, heart beating a little faster at the information he’s getting. But his eyes soften ever slightly, Judd’s words don’t surprise him. Carlos knows TK, and he knows the paramedic would do anything and everything to get his family out of danger, even if it means he’d be in danger himself. Carlos reaches out his arm and places a hand on the taller man’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze there.

“I can’t help but…” Judd trails off. “If only I had realized what was happening a second sooner, if I had acted then, then maybe…”

Carlos is shaking his head before Judd finishes his sentence. “Judd, you can’t do that to yourself, you can’t go down the road of what if because your head will spiral. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“It’s my fault TK’s hurt,” Judd sighs again. “If I had been sharper…”

“Listen to me, Judd, what happened wasn’t your fault. It would have been both of you in the hospital right now if one of you hadn’t moved out of the way, and knowing TK, he wasn’t going to let you fall.”

“Man, I just…” Judd shakes his head as he leans back against a wall, so much concern and worry evident on his face and spoken through his eyes. “He’s my little brother,” he expresses.

Carlos nods. “And you’re his big brother, which is exactly why TK pulled you out of there. You’re family. You would have done the same if you noticed what was happening before TK, right? Pulled him out of there?”

Judd nods. “In a heartbeat.”

Carlos gently pats Judd’s shoulder.

Their conversation comes to a halt then by the appearance of a doctor, who looks around the room filled with first responders, recognizing Carlos, Tommy and Nancy.

“How’s my son, doctor?” Owen is the first to speak. “TK.”

“Stable and awake,” the doctor replies. “The scans and tests showed major bruising over TK’s body, primarily to his back, along with two fractured ribs from the impact of the fall. The scan on his shoulder showed that everything is in place and we’ve fitted him with a sling. He also suffered a concussion but there is no sign of internal bleeding. I’d like to keep him here at least overnight for observation and repeat his head scans in the morning. We’re giving him fluids to keep him stabilized and hydrated and it might take some time, but I expect him to make a full recovery.”

The cloud of tension starts to evaporate as everyone digests the doctor’s words and a collective sigh of relief is exhaled.

But Carlos is still a bit on edge, not completely free of tension until he sees TK with his own two eyes, to make sure his boyfriend is okay for himself.

“Can we see him?” Carlos asks.

The doctor nods. “In a bit, a nurse will be by to get you. He can have maximum three visitors at a time but please, keep it brief.”

“Thank you so much,” Owen extends his hand, which the doctor shakes in return.

“It’s clear TK’s got a strong support system, and it’s lovely to see,” the doctor smiles.

Carlos looks over to Judd, and he can still see specks of guilt hanging onto Judd’s features. He knows Judd will feel better once he sees and talks to TK, but he still gives Judd’s shoulder another squeeze and Judd responds with a small smile.

Carlos is following a nurse ten minutes later, being lead to TK’s room.

“He’s right through here,” she smiles at Carlos when they reach the door. “The nurses’ station is down the hall if you need anything. I’ll be by to check on him later. ”

“Thank you,” Carlos returns the smile and then pushes the door open.

TK’s turning to look at him as he steps into the room, and Carlos feels a weight lifted off his chest when the green eyes he loves so much meets his.

This smile spreading on Carlos’s face reaches his eyes and he’s crossing the room in a couple of steps, getting to TK’s bedside a moment later.

“Hi, babe,” Carlos carefully takes TK’s hand, the one not in the sling.

“Hi, baby,” TK replies, squeezing Carlos’s hand with all the energy he could muster.

Carlos uses his free hand to drag the chair closer to the bed and then sits down on the edge of the cushion, wanting to be as close to TK as possible.

“How are you feeling?” Carlos asks, his hand going to TK’s head and starts running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.

“Okay,” TK responds around a breath. “I’m sore all over and my head is pounding but it will pass.”

Carlos can see the pain lines etched around TK’s eyes, hears the hitching in his breath with every lungful of air he draws in. He’s a little pale and he looks so tired, but TK’s smiling at him, that smile that’s reserved for only him and his green eyes are sparkling in a way that bring light back to Carlos’s world.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember responding to the call and getting the patients out of the car, then rumbling and I pulled Judd from the edge, and then it’s just bits and pieces but mostly darkness after that,” TK recalls.

Carlos nods. “The edge of the cliff just gave way, it was a slight tremor but all the rainfall and mud must have weakened it and then the car’s weight…”

“It couldn’t handle all that,” TK continues.

“Yeah. I’m just so glad to see you awake,” Carlos whispers. “That was really scary, I saw you there and then when I looked over next, you weren’t and everyone was yelling for you by the cliff.”

TK winces. “I’m sorry I scared you, I just…I had to get Judd out of the way.”

Carlos nods, running the pad of his thumb over TK’s skin.

“I remember moments down there and I remember seeing Judd, but is he okay? And do you know how the patients are? The brother and sister?”

“They’re doing okay, both in recovery. Their parents stopped by the waiting area before the rest of the crew arrived and they talked to Tommy. They said to thank you for everything.”

TK smiles. “I’m glad they’re okay.”

“You did a great job, babe. And Judd is fine, too,” Carlos assures TK. “Worried about you, everyone is.”

“I’ll be fine,” TK gives Carlos a small smile, which turns into a groan when he tries to move his body a little.

“Easy, babe,” Carlos says quickly. “Take it slow. You have bruises all over your body and two fractured ribs. Plus, a concussion and your shoulder was dislocated.”

TK groans again, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I remember Judd and Marjan popping my shoulder back in. When can I go home?”

TK opens his eyes to find Carlos giving him a pointed look, an eyebrow raised. He shrugs best he can without aggravating his battered body further.

Carlos sighs. “The doctor wants to keep you here at least until tomorrow morning, and your head scans will be repeated and then we’ll see. I’ll spend the night with you, I’ll be right by your side.”

“You always are,” TK squeezes Carlos’s hand again.

“And I always will be,” Carlos vows.

*****

A knock on the door grabs Carlos and TK’s attentions.

Owen had passed by to check on TK and sat for a while. And once he was satisfied his son was okay, he grabbed his phone and got to his feet, saying he needed to call Gwyn and tell her what happened.

The knock comes a few minutes after, and when the door is pushed opened, it reveals Judd standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Judd,” TK smiles.

Most of the worry begins to trickle away from Judd’s face at seeing TK awake, and he smiles back as he steps into the room.

“It’s good to see you awake, brother,” Judd says as he sits on the chair situated on the other side of TK’s bed, the one previously occupied by Owen.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” TK replies.

“Thanks to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough.”

“No, Judd, this wasn’t your fault. This was an accident. And this is what we do for each other. We look out for one another,” TK expresses.

Judd nods. “I’ll be forever grateful.”

“Plus, I couldn’t let anything happen to you,” TK says. “Your baby girl is almost here.”

Judd’s smile widens at that, and before he can say anything, another soft knock on the door is heard.

Grace walks in, Judd and Carlos getting to their feet and Judd meets her by the door. Carlos moves his chair across the room, settles it next to Judd’s and stands by the foot of the bed.

“Grace,” TK smiles, reaching out his hand to her.

“I wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay,” Grace replies, taking TK’s hand. “And to thank you for getting Judd to safety.”

TK squeezes her hand. “I’m glad Judd’s okay. And all this,” he then uses his hand to gesture to his body, “will heal, I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”

Judd nods. “We’re counting on that. This ain’t how we wanted to do this, we had this whole thing planned but…”

“We’d love for you to be our baby’s godfather,” Grace announces with a wide smile, her face glowing.

TK’s eyes go wide with surprise and he looks between Grace and Judd and then to Carlos, who has a smile spreading on his face, and then TK looks back at Grace.

“We were planning on asking you this weekend but after today, we knew we couldn’t wait until then.”

Grace nods with Judd’s words. “We’ve known in our hearts for a while that it’s you, and it feels right. And the way you made sure Judd was safe today proved us even more right, we know you’ll take care of our baby the same way you always make sure her daddy is safe.”

Tears gather in TK’s eyes, his heart uplifting and face breaking into a huge smile as he nods. “It does, it feels right. Of course, yes, I would be honored. This means everything, your trust means so much to me.”

Judd and Grace share a glance and their faces light up even more.

“Man, I’d hug you right now, but I think we’ll have to wait on that,” Judd shrugs.

“You give me that hug right now,” TK immediately replies.

Judd chuckles and very carefully, wraps his arms around TK the best he could without hurting the younger man.

TK returns the hug, closing his eyes and a tear rolls down his cheek. “I promise I’ll take care of her with my all.”

“We know,” Judd smiles. “You take care of yourself and get better, we want you on your feet when you meet your goddaughter for the first time,” he adds when they separate.

“Yes, sir,” TK nods.

TK turns his attention to Carlos, and Carlos is looking at him with so much love and admiration and pride, Carlos is beaming at him and butterflies start fluttering in TK’s stomach and a light pink settles in his cheeks.

“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” TK tells Judd and Grace. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

*****

“So, godfather,” Carlos says, back in the chair next to the bed. “That’s big.”

Judd and Grace stayed for a while longer before deciding to head home, each of them giving TK a gentle hug on their way out. Carlos gives Grace a hug and shakes Judd’s hand, the firefighter telling him to give them a call if they need anything.

“It is,” TK nods. “I’m already a little nervous, honestly.”

“You’re going to do great,” Carlos reassures TK. “You’re going to be an amazing godfather.”

TK draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“You have a big, beautiful heart, TK Strand. You love with every inch of your being, you’re always there to help and support and encourage, you uplift everyone around you and you care deeply and wholly. And I know you’ll give every bit of that to the baby girl,” Carlos expresses and there’s so much love radiating from his eyes and his voice, it warms TK to his core.  

TK takes Carlos’s hand. “Your support means everything, babe. You give me strength every day.”

Carlos leans in and closes the gap between them with a soft kiss pressed to TK’s lips. They melt against and into each other, their souls speaking and their connection deepening. They don’t separate after they come up for air, they touch their foreheads, their eyes still closed. They feel each other, they breathe together, their hearts beating as one.

“You’ll be a big part of her life, too,” TK says after they pull apart.

Carlos nods. “She already has all of us wrapped around her finger.”

TK chuckles. “She does.”

Looking into Carlos’s brown eyes, the eyes TK can willingly get lost in for days, the silver sparkle he loves so much speaks volumes. It carries promise and hope.

TK’s got everything he needs, the love of his life by his side, friends and crew mates who have become family, a job he loves and a title he can’t wait to carry.

His body may be bruised and may ache right now, but he knows it will get better.

He knows it’s a bright future ahead, one TK is looking forward to.

[morganaspendragonss]

hollyyy okay i do have a prompt for you bc i don’t think i sent one before?? it’s kinda vague and i’m willing to consult if you want more details but i’m thinking maybe something where carlos is getting treated in the er for something (minor; something like a sprain or cut idk dealers choice) and then tk is dropping a patient off in the er and spots him and he’s just like oh hello??? and carlos is trying to be all casual about it like “hey tk, how are you?” and tk is just not having it

holly's august extravaganza day 30: ease my mind

thank you jamie! combined with your bthb prompt though it's far more fluffy than angsty anyway 😊

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: fingore

ao3 | 1k | fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt carlos, worried tk, minor injuries

“Okay, Officer Reyes, you’ll need to keep that strapped for a month, and we’ll be in contact shortly to arrange a follow-up appointment to check your progress.”

Carlos nods absently, flexing his hand in an imitation of one of the exercises the doctor had shown him. It sends a sharp pulse of pain through his hand, starting at his two broken fingers and ending somewhere in his wrist. The nurse discharging him smiles sympathetically as she hands over his paperwork.

“You might want to wait a couple days before starting on those,” she whispers, almost conspiratorially. “Trust me—I have experience in these matters.”

She winks, and Carlos snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, me too. Kinda. A few months back my fiancé—he was my boyfriend then—broke half his hand, and then rebroke it after it had healed because he’s an idiot who can’t take a day to rest.”

The nurse giggles, and Carlos has no idea why he’s telling her all of this. He chooses to blame it on the painkillers they gave him, though admittedly said painkillers were very mild and wouldn’t send him loopy enough to lose control of his tongue.

He just likes talking about TK, is all.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake, then,” the nurse says, patting him on the leg. “You’re good to go.”

Carlos thanks her and slides off the bed, grabbing his APD jacket from the chair it had been slung over. He pulls his phone out and checks his messages, smiling when he sees one from TK.

TK, 14.38: I get off in a few hours, see you tonight babe. Love you, stay safe x

Briefly, Carlos considers calling him and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and, unlike TK, Carlos did not injure his dominant hand. It barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He settles on a simple, Love you too xx, then pockets his phone, looking up and around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

He’s considering ducking behind a pillar and waiting them out, but Nancy chooses that moment to appear next to TK, her eyes almost instantly landing on Carlos. He tries to frantically shake his head at her, but he’s too late; she’s already smacking TK’s arm and pointing right in Carlos’s direction.

TK’s head snaps up and his eyes instantly narrow upon catching sight of Carlos. He straightens, folding his arms, and raises a pointed eyebrow. “Carlos Reyes, you had better be here to question someone.”

Carlos then makes the fatal mistake—he plasters a smile on his face and raises a hand in a wave, realising too late that it’s his left.

AKA, the hand that is very obviously bandaged to hell.

TK doesn’t waste a second in striding over, shifting back into paramedic mode despite the blatant worry all over his face. Carlos sighs and bears it as TK gently takes his wrist, raising it to inspect the bandages.

“What’s the damage?” he murmurs, still looking at Carlos’s hand.

“Two broken fingers, and I have to keep them strapped up for a month before they want to review. It’s nothing, Ty.”

“Nothing?” TK demands, taking a step back and staring Carlos down. “When I broke my hand last year it was ‘you need to be more careful, babe’, and ‘how do you keep getting yourself in these messes, babe’, and ‘I didn’t realise I distracted you to the point of injury, babe, maybe I should stay in the guest room for a while to make sure it doesn’t happen again’.”

TK pauses for breath, glaring as Carlos tries and fails to bite back laughter. He’d feel bad for all the teasing his boyfriend had endured back then, but, well, it had been funny.

“But now you’ve hurt yourself, suddenly it’s nothing?” TK huffs, a pout forming on his lips. “I’m not going to stand for this, I hope you know that.”

“Okay, first,” Carlos laughs, “even you have to admit that what you did was kind of funny. Second, it’s literally just two fingers and they’re going to heal up fine. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m barely hurt, and I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your shift worrying about me when you have an important job to do.”

TK softens and he glances down at his shoes, a small smile playing at his lips. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Because I know you. And because it’s what I would be asking if I were in your shoes.”

A few seconds of silence pass between them—seconds of understanding and love—but the moment is broken by Nancy yelling TK’s name across the foyer.

“That’s my cue,” TK says, though he makes no move to step away from Carlos. He gives him a searching look, eyes lingering on his bandaged hand. “You sure you’re gonna be okay? I could—”

“Ty.” Carlos shakes his head, smiling gently. “Go. A couple broken fingers is not a good enough excuse to get you off your shift; I’ll get an Uber home and I promise not to do anything that would make it worse. I’m okay. I promise.”

TK sighs, still looking reluctant, but he seems to accept Carlos’s assurance. He takes his injured hand once more and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of it, cupping Carlos’s face gently. “For the record,” he says, “I always worry about you.”

Carlos leans into the touch, nuzzling into TK’s palm. “The feeling is mutual.”

Nancy calls for TK again, and they’re forced to break apart.

“I’m coming!” TK shouts back, and Carlos spots Nancy rolling her eyes behind TK’s back.

“You really had better go, babe,” he says, laughing. “I think Nancy might kill you if you don’t get back there right now.”

TK grumbles, but he does go this time, sparing one last smile back at Carlos. Carlos nods at him, trying to reaffirm the promise that he’s really, truly okay and, by the look on TK’s face, he understands.

But then, they always understand each other.

Eventually.

[datleggy]

Let’s take “birth day” literally and have pregnant Buck go into labor someplace really dumb and/or inconvenient.

It's the hormones, Buck would like to say in his defense, but honestly, the omega would have done it even if he weren't nearly nine months pregnant....

The doctor's told him some light exercise will help, even with his due date being so close now, and so after picking Christopher up from school they'd decided to take a nice stroll in the park.

And it would have been nice if some asshole hadn't put his hands on his kid on the goddamn playground of all places! One minute Buck had been struggling to get up off the bench to see why it looked as though Christopher was in a seemingly heated argument over something or the other, with another little boy around his age, and the next said boy's mother was shoving Christopher away with a sharply pointed nail, poking at his shoulder and shouting obscenities.

And Buck was there in a flash, putting himself between Christopher and the woman and telling her to back off. "You don't touch someone else's kid like that, lady. If you have a problem, you come find me."

The woman looks flustered for a moment before raising her voice again, yelling about how she had barely even touched the eight year old, and about how maybe he shouldn't bring his son around other kids if he couldn't learn to play nice. "If you taught that boy some manners we wouldn't even be here right now!"

Buck knows he should have let it go, knows they were causing a huge and unnecessary scene, and this? This next part he totally blames on the hormones. "If your parents had taught you some manners and common sense we wouldn't be here right now!"

And that had only served to escalate the situation to the point where police had actually been called and arrived on the scene--and apparently the woman had been very convincing when she'd burst into tears and told the cops that Buck had threatened her with violence.

Which is how Buck ends up in a jailcell on a sunny Friday afternoon, waiting for Eddie to come and bail him out and worrying frantically about Christopher, who last he saw, as they'd cuffed him and put him into the back of their vehicle, was currently in the custody of a child services worker.

Buck puts his head in his hands and groans, beyond stressed. Not only is this humiliating as all hell, but his alpha is probably going to kill him for letting this shit happen. He should have ignored the woman and walked away with Christopher in tow. Instead, he'd made it worse and gotten arrested for an assault he hadn't even committed. "Jesus Christ."

"Buckley? Evan Buckley?" An officer calls out; he's older, maybe mid fifties, with a faint Southern drawl.

Buck raises his head. He'd only called Eddie fifteen minutes ago, was he really here that quickly? "Uh, yeah, that's me." he says.

"You're free to go; luckily a bunch of witnesses came forward with the same story--you weren't the aggressor here, son. Now c'mon, your kid's waiting for you right outside."

"Oh thank God." he breaths out, immeasurably relieved. But when he attempts to stand up Buck lets out a hiss and doubles over, face contorting in pain.

The officers eyes go wide and he rushes to open the cell, which is nearly empty, thankfully, except for Buck and a slumbering man in the corner, arrested that morning for public intoxication. "Whoa, whoa," the man's eyes go even wider, if possible, when he realizes what's happening. "Shoot, I think your water just broke, young man."

Buck shakes his head, even though the proof is on the bench and soaking his jeans through and through. He whines as the contraction continues, huffing and puffing. "H-hospital. Please." He pleads.

There is no way he's having this baby while still technically in custody at a police station. Hell, they're in a jailcell, for shit's sake. He'd rather give birth like a total cliché and in the back of a yellow taxi!

"I'm gonna have 'em call you an ambulance, but let's get you outta here first." the officer tries to help Buck stand but another contraction hits, this one harder and more agonizing than the last and Buck cries out, his knees buckling under him.

The officer manages to hold him aloft just long enough to reposition him on the floor as Buck pants and tries not to lose it. The contractions are way too close...

The officer radios his men and calls for help. "Need help in the holding cell on floor 2B, we've got a custodial here who's gone into labor. Urgent request for help in holding cell 2B."

Buck can't help but let out a sob--it's even worse than he'd imagined--he's going to end up giving birth inside a jailcell five feet away from some guy who smells like tequila and regret. Alone.

"What the hell is going on in--Buck?!"

Buck sniffles as he turns his head towards the door, where Athena is standing, mouth agape at the chaotic scene before her. "Athena!" he cries, reaching out for her, needy as can be and not giving a damn.

Athena doesn't waste any time, dropping to her knees beside him, letting him rest his head on her lap. She sooths back his curly locks, now sweaty, and look at the officer, asking sharply, "What happened?"

"He was being released when he went into labor--must be from the stress of the situation. Tried to get him up, but that baby's comin' and soon." he informs her, grimacing when Buck whines in pain as another contraction follows his statement, as if to prove the mans words true.

"Eddie," Buck clenches his teeth, tries to stifle another groans. "Need Eddie."

"He's right outside," Athena tells him, reassuringly. She nods at the officer. "Reyes, get me Eddie Diaz, he's a medic and he should be waiting down on the first floor for us. Hurry!"

***************

Eddie's at the grocery store picking stuff up for dinner tonight when he gets the unexpected call. He almost doesn't answer it, when he sees it's from an unfamiliar number, thinking it's spam, but something nags at him to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

It's Buck. And he sounds upset.

"Buck? What's going on? Everything alright? Who's phone are you using?"

He can hear Buck gulp from the other end of the line. "I've been arrested. I need you to come bail me out and get Christopher out of police custody." he says, all in one rushed statement, like he'd ripping off a band aid.

"Wha--I'm sorry, what? Did you say you're in jail? And Christopher's with the police? What the hell is going on?" Eddie's not proud of the way he raises his voice, especially not in the fruit aisle, where a mother with her toddler gives him a dirty look on her way past, but he's so shocked and panicked he can't stop himself from blurting out, "Buck, what the fuck happened? You were picking Christopher up from school today! Where does jail fit into this?!"

"Eddie, I'm sorry." Buck sighs. "I swear I'll explain everything when you get here, but I don't have a lot of time left on this call and I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, can you just--"

"Of course, yeah, sorry, I'm on my way, give me like twenty minutes, ok? I'm across town."

"Thank you." the line cuts off abruptly and Eddie's left to ponder what could possibly have happened to have led up to his almost nine months pregnant husband being arrested as he abandons his cart and runs out into the parking lot.

****************

Eddie nearly gets arrested himself, with the way he's speeding down the highway before turning onto the main road and parking right in front of the station, where only police vehicles are allowed.

The alpha finds his kid with a social worker, happily munching on a donut. “Chris!?” Eddie runs over and engulfs his son in a suffocating hug. “Are you ok? What happened?” 

Christopher pulls away slightly, nodding. “I’m ok. Bucky got in trouble ‘cause the lady at the park lied. Officer Reyes said he’s gonna bring him out soon.” 

The social worker explains the whole story to Eddie, “Thankfully there were a lot of witnesses who corroborated the events. Your husband should be out in a few minutes; it was all just an awful misunderstanding. The woman at the park is in custody right now for giving the police a false accusation and wasting everybody’s time.”  

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief and he practically falls into a chair nearby, pulling Christopher onto his lap and holding him tight around the middle. “Is he ok? Buck is pregnant. He’s due in two weeks.” 

The social worker gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’s in good hands. Officer Reyes will have him out here in a couple of minutes.” 

****************

After a couple of minutes turns to five, turns to ten, Eddie starts to get angsty. Which is why it’s a good thing, when he happens to spot Athena rounding the corner and into the station. He calls over to her and she furrows her brows in concern before making her way across to them. 

“Eddie? Christopher? What’s going on?” 

“It’s a long story.” Eddie sighs, “But Buck is being held in a cell right now, they said an officer Reyes was supposed to bring him down here, that he was free to go, but that was forever ago,” he exaggerates. “Can you please find out what’s taking so long?” 

“Of course.” 

****************

Buck sobs openly when his alpha enters the room, “Eddie!” he calls out desperately. 

Athena holds Buck close and looks up. “He’s in labor. Contractions are less than a minute apart. He needs to start pushing.” 

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, though his brain feels like it’s about to short circuit if even one more insane thing happens within these twenty four hours. He drops between Buck’s knees and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m here, I’m here, you’ve got this, ok? Cause I’ve got you.” 

“I’m scared.” Buck admits, tears sliding down face, and he’s shaking like a leaf, terrified that something will go wrong. “I don’t--” he groans pitifully against another contraction. “Don’t wanna have her in here.” 

“I know baby, I know, but she’s coming now, Buck. She’s not gonna wait for us to make it to a hospital. She’s impatient,” Eddie kisses his hand, squeezing again, comfortingly. “Just like you.” 

Buck huffs. “No, like you. Y-you never wait for your soup to cool down.” 

“My Tia’s sopa is worth the burnt tongue.” Eddie plays along, trying to distract him from the pain. “Baby, I need you to push, ok? I know this isn’t how we pictured any of this, but it’s time.” 

Buck nods through the tears and steels himself. 

“Good, good, now push, c’mon, you can do this. I’m right here.” 

****************

“You look handsome in your mugshot.” Eddie tells Buck, staring at the photo he asked Athena to send him on his phone.

Buck glares at the alpha. “Funny.” 

Eddie leans down to kiss the frown off his face. “Sorry, too soon?” 

Buck turns the other way in bed with an annoyed huff. “You’re on baby night duty for the rest of the week.” he shuts the lamp light off and then the room is dim with just the moon peaking in through their blinds. 

“Hey,” Eddie sits up, tilting his head. It’s been over a month since the incident, and sure, it hadn’t been pleasant, but Buck and their baby had made it through just fine, health intact, and in the hospital Buck hadn’t seemed too phased after the ordeal, mostly content with Christopher and the baby curled up against and on him. “That was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.” 

Buck gulps. He’s being way too sensitive about this. Everything turned out alright and shortly after the whole thing had passed Chimney had even teased him that of course only Buck would have bad enough luck to end up giving birth in a holding cell. And Buck had laughed it off. 

Mostly because he’d been relieved. 

And then of course with the new baby the last month has been a whirlwind of constant activity, of making sure all her needs are met, of making sure Christopher’s not feeling neglected, of debating on when he should start thinking about going back to work and--

Eddie’s heart leaps when he hears Buck’s sharp intake of breath. “Buck?” 

Buck sits up now, too, swiping miserably at the tears that suddenly won’t stop falling. “Sorry, I--ignore me. I didn’t--” he sniffles. “I haven’t really thought about that day since--everything’s been so busy with--you know?--and--” he cuts himself off with a choked off sob. “It’s the hormones.” 

It’s been four weeks now and his hormones from the pregnancy are still driving him every which way and he feels ridiculous right now, crying over something he should have processed a month ago already. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him between his legs and against his chest. “Let it out.” he says. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

Buck curls into Eddie and releases all emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping all pent up inside. The fear, the anguish--Buck lets himself be held, coddled, loved. 

It feels good. 

After he’s cried for what feels like ages Buck rests the side of his head on Eddie’s shoulder and exhales. “You know Christopher wanted to name her Tuubee?” he murmurs. 

Eddie, who’s rubbing up and down his husbands back, pauses a moment. “’Tuubee’?” he repeats. 

Buck half smirks against his shoulder. “Two B. The cell where she was born.”

.