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g-o-bs--fanfictions · 7 months ago

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Jealous M! Whitney

A/N: I'm not preparing y'all for shit in this one. All you need to know is that the Trigger Warnings for this are canon typical and the reader is completely gender neutral. Enjoy. :)

A/N 2: I can say with certainty that I fully hope Vrel sees this, lol.

You rush out the school gates, swearing under your breath. You'd fallen asleep in class and had earned yourself a detention. It seems, however, that Leighton could sense that you were anxious to leave because she decided to subject you to 30 minutes of menial tasks before allowing you to leave. You still need $300 to pay Bailey and you'll be damned if you're gonna miss peak time at the brothel. Lost in your thoughts, you fail to notice Whitney and his cronies tailing you. You grimace as you feel an arm wrap around your waist and relax only slightly as you realize who said arm belongs to.

"Where's my favorite slut running off to? You're not avoiding me, are you?" He asks, blowing a cloud of smoke into your face. You frown in response.

"Whit, I really don't have time for this today. I need to get going." You try to pull yourself from his grip, only for him to pull you even closer. His friends laugh at your plight.

"You can't possibly be too busy to spend time with me." Whitney responds stubbornly, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. "Seriously, where are you headed?"

You sigh, briefly closing your eyes. You already know that he's not going to leave you alone without a satisfying answer, however, you also know that his friends won't let you hear the end of it if they knew where you were going. No fucking way are you letting that happen. You give Whitney a pointed look, shooting a quick glance towards his friends before raising an eyebrow. In response, he rolls his eyes before turning his attention to his flock.

"Fuck off for a bit, will you?" He says. "The slut's feeling shy."

To their credit, the group does back off, but not without snide remarks and snickers at your expense. You'll kick their asses for it later, but at least you have a semblance of privacy for the moment.

"So, you gonna tell me now, or what?" Whitney asks, impatient as always.

"I'm going to the brothel. Gotta shake my ass for pocket change. Peak time." You answer bluntly. "If you want to come with me, fine. But I really need to get going."

The look on Whitney's face switches between confusion, shock, and pride so fast you can barely register it. He apparently settles on giving you the goofiest grin you have ever seen on his face.

"Holy shit. You actually work at that shithole?"

"Yes, I'm quite popular, actually. And don't call it a shithole. I'm pretty sure Briar would have you shanked for that."

Whitney lets out a loud, barking laugh that forces you to wince. His friends glance over, confusion written on their faces, but return to their own devices right after.

"Oh my god, I've gotta fucking see this. Hold on." He turns to call his friends back over before you quickly stop him. He looks back at you, confused.

"Mm-mm. If you want your friends to see me in action, it'll have to wait until the weekend. If a group of students is seen entering the brothel in the middle of the week, a raid is sure to follow." You shoot him a grin. "I can only evade the police for so long. But seriously, you need to decide because I've gotta go."

He lets out another laugh at this but does seem to consider your words. With a groan, he complies.

"Fine." Whitney begins to guide you down the sidewalk. He calls to his friends over his shoulder as the two of you begin making your way to the brothel. "I'll catch up later. Fuck off somewhere." The sounds of frustrated groans and complaints grow faint as you continue on your way.

As you walk, you answer Whitney's multiple questions. Part of you is surprised he's taking such an interest in something you have going on in your life. However, considering the subject matter... What else did you expect?

The brothel eventually comes into view and a gleeful shiver runs up your spine as you see a large group be granted entrance. You take in their attire, noting the crisp suits adorning their bodies. Your knees almost grow weak at the faint glint of a gold cufflink standing out among a sea of navy blue.

"Jesus. Get ahold of yourself, slut." Whitney teases, amused at the almost predatory glint in your eye. "You really get paid that well here?"

"When groups like that are in, I absolutely do." You answer, picking up your pace slightly. "I've gotta get in there before someone else can snag them."

Whitney chuckles, keeping pace with you. As you approach the door, a bouncer you've come to recognize well greets you with a nod.

"You've got that look in your eye, kid." She says as the two of you enter. "Go get 'em, hon." She winks at you.

You smile at her and lead Whitney into the brothel. You spot the group settling in right in front of your favorite stage. Perhaps they're here to see you specifically? A glimmer of hope and a dash of dread fill you at the thought of the possibility. It seems you're getting more popular than you previously thought. You're not quite sure how happy you are about that.

"I'm gonna go change. My favorite stage is over there." You say, pointing it out.

"Looks like your 'friends' are parked there. You got fans?" Whitney says, giving you an almost proud glance.

"I sure fucking hope so." You say, beginning to make your way to the dressing room. You stop briefly and turn to face him once more, looking him up and down. "If you're gonna fuck anyone here, just stay away from Big Red. She'll break you."

You leave a bewildered Whitney behind as you turn and head into the dressing room.

Whitney couldn't quite place how he was feeling. You were an amazing dancer. That's without a doubt. He'd have to remember to ask you to dance for him sometime. But, that's not the problem.

You worked in a brothel, what else did he expect to happen here? He shouldn't be angry that you spotted a raised wallet in the crowd. He shouldn't feel such burning rage at the fact that you strutted off stage, weaving through the crowd of gawkers toward that fucking piece of leather. He shouldn't have wanted to storm down that hallway and beat the shit out of the man you led down it.

Whitney didn't do shit like that. It shouldn't fucking matter. He's sold your services to people before. Then, why the fuck is this bothering him so much? Well, yeah, it's been happening less often now, but still! What the fuck is wrong with him?

The realisation dawns on him as he spots you exiting the hallway, a smile on your face and the man a few steps ahead of you.

No, no. Whitney doesn't do sappy shit.

He tries to deny it as he sees you begin to make your way back to the stage, a woman spotting you as you do.

He refuses to let you make him feel this shit.

The woman leers at you. You give her a wink.

Don't you fucking dare.

The woman begins to approach the stage. You've almost reached the steps. Whitney hesitates. For once in his life, he's genuinely weighing his options.

He doesn't care. He knew what to expect.

Your foot hits the first step. Whitney blinks and, suddenly, he's next to you, his hand gripping your wrist. You look at him, confusion etched on your stupidly perfect face.

Fucking recover.

"You're my slut." Whitney says. "I pick who you fuck next."

You smile at him. Did his heart just flutter? No.

"Look for the thickest wallet." You kiss him and walk on stage. He tries to tell himself that the sudden thumping in his chest is from the music that fuels your second dance.

He turns, leaning against the wall. His eyes scan the forming crowd, eyeing pockets and purses. He spots the target and locks in, waiting for her hand to slip into her pocket.

Whitney doesn't do sappy shit.

But maybe, you'd start to be an exception.

Masterlist

#degrees of lewdity whitney #dol whitney x reader #dol whitney #mdni #ns w #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n

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typicalopposite · 11 months ago

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𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 4/7 | 6263 words

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | ao3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 (𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍)

PLEASE READ TAGS FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

Buck has sat in the same seat— tucked away in the farthest corner of the ICU lobby— for so long he has lost track of time. He finally thinks to check his watch. It’s late. Really late… So late, it’s technically early. He hasn’t slept, or eaten, or scrolled through his phone. Just sat and stared off into space… torturing himself with the repeating visions and words that have been haunting him, honestly since Gerard first mentioned Jay.

The 118 has long since had to leave. Most of them have shifts tomorrow. Buck has a shift tomorrow, but Bobby told him he’d better not see him in that station, regardless. “You can leave here, but the only place you’d better go is back to your apartment,” he’d said.

Bobby likely knew, even if Buck wanted to leave—even if the 217 all rallied together to collectively force him to leave—he would never actually walk out of that hospital until he knew for certain Tommy was going to be okay; or at least until he woke up. The likelihood of either feels slimmer with each passing hour. Most of the 217 have also left, having to go get ready for their own shift, or to get sleep for one the next day. Buck is eventually left alone with Lucy, Morris and Sal; which one of the three depends on whoever is not in the room with Tommy.

Right now, it’s Sal, and the two have been very clearly trying to avoid each other's eye since he came out of Tommy's room and sat down on the opposite side of the lobby. Buck picks at some skin around his nails, careful to not pick too much lest he ends up doing more damage to his hands; he’d love to not have to deal with Mama Hen on that when she eventually ends up back at the hospital (likely to check on him, as much as Tommy). He makes himself stop and goes back to strumming his fingers on his knees, and looking at the TV so it appears he’s watching it.

There’s a deep sigh, coming from suspiciously close to where Sal is sitting. Then out of Buck’s peripherals he sees Sal stand up and start towards him. Great… Buck thinks, and has half a mind to get up and leave. Not because he thinks Sal is coming to put more blame on him; if anything Sal has taken up for him against people on the 217 who have tried to attack him. It’s just—and maybe this is a little selfish… a little childish—the last kiss Tommy had, might ever have, was with Sal. Buck still isn’t sure how he feels about that… He knows he has no right to feel anything about it. But he does. Regardless of hearing from everyone (and probably about to hear it from Sal as well) that he is straight and the kiss was his impulsive attempt to help fix Buck and Tommy’s problems.

“Heya Ev— er Buck… it’s Buck right?” Buck lifts his eyes to meet Sal’s… The man looks as exhausted as Buck feels. “You mind?” Sal asks, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. He’s not a hundred percent sure he doesn’t mind; but he shifts over and shakes his head anyway. Sal sits down and for a moment Buck thinks they’re just going to sit in silence. Perhaps he just didn’t want to sit alone. Buck can relate… but he deserves to be alone, Sal doesn't. “So— uh— what’cha watchin’?”

Buck looks back at the TV; it’s some game show. “Family feud… I think.”

“Ahh… that’s cool. Cool, cool, cool…” Sal nods, and shifts in the seat awkwardly. This is all so awkward. Buck wishes he would just spit out what he’s come to say, before they both get an ulcer from the anticipation. “Listen… I uh— I want to apologize…”

“Sal, you don’t—”

“No. I really do,” Sal says firmly. He turns to look at Buck and his eyes are puffy and red; Buck is kind of jealous he’s actually been able to cry about the whole situation… Meanwhile he feels ready to explode from withholding his emotions. He swallows around the lump in his throat and waits for Sal to continue. “I just— I wanted to help him out, ya know. He’s my best friend… and I don’t think I have ever seen him so happy, as he was with you… or— or as broken up as he was without. You— you meant the world to him… ” Sal stiffens his jaw. “S- sorry— it wasn’t my place, I know. I just wanted to help, and I only fucked it up worse.”

There’s a part of Buck that wants to take him up on the blame. He could just hand it over and let Sal shoulder it, at least for a while. He could lash out like so many have on him. He can’t stop the weak laugh before it bubbles up and comes out. “It’s not your fault, Sal.” Buck says. “Sure, maybe the kiss hurt to see… but I deserved the wake up call of thinking I’d lost him to someone else. Someone way better.”

That pulls a laugh out of Sal. He loosens up a little and runs a hand roughly over his face. “Thanks for the flattery, kid… but— uh, I’m not exactly an upgrade. Hell, I don’t even know why he’s kept me around . I mean… I was right there with the people who kept him trapped in the closet for so long.” He sighs and glances over guiltily at Buck. “Even when I started to have suspicions, I didn’t let up on how I acted. Hell, maybe I was even worse… because— because I made myself believe that since he was doing it too—making the jokes, using the names— the slurs—that even if he was, he must be cool with it. I knew deep down that was bullshit, but I just couldn’t bring myself to bring it up. I guess I was scared things would change— he would change. Doesn’t make it any better… didn’t make it any less a slap to the face when I realized he never was comfortable enough to tell me.”

“He never told you?”

Sal shook his head. “We hadn't spoken much after Bobby transferred me out of the 118, and I just happened upon him one night on a date…” he says. “Worst part… I knew it was a date. I saw how they looked at each other; definitely not how you look at just a friend… and I still made it seem like I thought they were just… out for a beer. Brought up the last girl he’d said he was dating back before Bobby had me transferred. I watched how awkward it made the poor guy he was there with… and a selfish part of me still hoped he’d go along with it.”

“Did— did he,” Buck asks. He feels like there’s a knife in his chest twisting a hole into his heart at the similarity to his first date with Tommy. He feels sick.

“No. He excused himself from the table and asked to speak to me alone. He told me he was on a date, and then he made it very clear that if I wasn’t okay with that, he’d understand… and that he wouldn’t preach to me about acceptance just to keep me around. If I couldn’t accept him, then it was nice knowing me.” Sal laughs. “And all I could think was, same old Tommy; doesn’t sugar coat anything.”

“But you did… accept him, you two got close again.”

“We did. It was a little different at first, but I had grown a lot since working under Gerard… and even more after Bobby put me in my place. It wasn’t long and it was just like old times— minus, you know… all the racist, sexist, bullshit stuff. It was better even.” Sal smiles, “He’s a great guy, a great friend… he didn’t mean for this to hurt you, Buck.”

“He didn’t hurt me… I hurt him!” Buck says, and Sal gives him a sympathetic look. “I— I was just so sure there were no secrets between us…” Buck continues. “I thought that even though he hadn’t told me much about his past… it was just because there wasn’t much to tell. Then Gerard— and I couldn’t stop thinking about it… and it turns out it wasn’t even anything he’d done wrong… I just kept telling myself it was… until I believed it. I’m so stupid—”

“You’re not stupid Buck,” Sal says; Buck scoffs. “Tommy understands why you were curious. He isn’t mad that you went looking for answers and he regrets not telling you when you first asked. There is just— There’s so much to that story… So much more than just some old articles… It was a really hard time for him… and he had to go through most of it alone…” Sal looks towards Tommy’s room and sighs. “Now— god, now we’re here, and it’s like time is repeating itself. He wouldn’t want you to be going through this alone…”

Buck deflates. He deserves to be alone—he knows Sal won’t want to hear any of that, though. He just doesn’t respond, and Sal doesn’t say anything else; the lobby falls back into mostly silence, save for the beeping coming from patients' rooms.

Tommy’s door opens and Morris walks out. He looks over to where Sal and Buck are sitting, his brows pulling together in confusion (surely as to why Sal is sitting with the enemy). Sal sighs, gives Buck an apologetic look, and pushes to his feet, walking over to Morris. They talk for a while, low enough that Buck can’t hear them. Morris gives Buck one final glare, then leaves.

Sal watches after him until he’s inside the elevator, before he goes into Tommy’s room, and Buck is once again alone. It’s only a short while, though, before Sal comes back out and Lucy is with him. Her arms are crossed tight over her chest; she looks tired, and she seems to have just stopped crying. Sal stalls by Tommy’s door, but Lucy crosses the room towards Buck; again he braces himself, this time it is for an attack.

“Hey— um, do you think you can… sit with him,” she asks, nodding her head back towards the room.

Logically Buck knows who she means, he still replies, “With Sal?”, anyway.

“No…” Lucy says, rolling her eyes. “With— with Tommy. I don’t want him to be in there alone… in— in case he…” Her lip begins to tremble. And she quickly covers her mouth.

“In case he wakes up,” Sal says, speed walking over to wrap an arm around Lucy’s back. “Just in case he wakes up.” He says it more so like he’s trying to make her believe it; possibly make himself believe it. “We won’t be long, just taking her home to finally get changed out of this uniform.”

“Mrs. K should be here soon, anyway…” Lucy adds. Buck wonders if she still believes he doesn’t truly want to be there.

Buck looks towards Tommy’s room; he couldn’t even look through the door as he passed to get across the lobby to his seat… How is he going to sit in there? He could say no. Hell, maybe he should say no… He’s nothing but a bad omen, and they are just going to prop him up like a cursed object next to his latest victim? “O- okay…” he says anyway, breaking his eyes away from them, and pushing up from the chair he has been glued to for the past— he doesn’t even know how long.

Lucy actually smiles at him; nothing too friendly, more so of appreciation. Sal reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. Then they are gone.

And he is once again alone.

Except—

Except he’s walking towards Tommy’s room and, in a way, in there he won’t be alone, will he? He stops just shy of the door, looks around at the nurses sitting in their stations. (Gotta keep it together, Buckley… gotta suck it up and just do this. You owe him that much.) He grabs the door handle, and pushes it in, preemptively biting the insides of his jaws as he steps inside.

The lights are dimmed, probably to help the headaches he’s sure everyone who has been in the claustrophobia-inducing room, sitting in the little uncomfortable chairs have gotten throughout the day. There’s a concoction of scents floating around the air. They mix together putridly; they smell like death. Buck wonders if it’s because the reaper himself is lingering unseen in the room… just waiting for the perfect time.

He pointedly avoids the bed; he can’t look there, not yet.

The room’s small so he doesn’t have much else to look at. Loud machines that are keeping Tommy alive. A patient’s board with the nurses and doctors names that are keeping Tommy alive… A TV Tommy can’t use; a window Tommy can look out; a table Tommy can’t eat the terrible hospital food at. A chair next to Tommy’s bed… Buck chooses the one further away (and pulls it even further into the corner of the room) but when he turns around to sit down he does catch a glimpse of Tommy.

Maybe he meant to.

Maybe it was just another subconscious way he could hurt himself for hurting Tommy.

And boy, does what he sees hurt…

He thinks of all the horror he has seen since becoming a firefighter. He thinks of the people he’s lost. The lives that he wasn’t able to save. How he dwells on each of them for a little while, and then tucks them away, because that’s the job. Par for the course, just like he told Gerard. He knows he’s done all he could do. It wasn’t always that easy of course but he learned how to manage the guilt… he wouldn’t have lasted this long if he hadn’t.

But some losses are more… personal. Did Kinard tell you about his?

Buck thinks of his personal losses—or rather his personal near losses, because in reality he hasn’t lost anyone close to him… yet.

He nearly lost Maddie. That was terrifying. Then Eddie got shot… another close call that worked out in the end. Then just so recently with Bobby…

But this—this—is different. This is Tommy. Big, strong, brave Tommy. Sweet, kind, loving Tommy. Even if his face is so swollen and discolored it looks nothing like him. There's so many wires, and so much of him is wrapped up in bandages or cast. He tries to break his eyes away— he needs to break his eyes away. He can barely even see him from the tears welling up.

What have I done…

He thinks of the last thing he said to Tommy. I’ll see you around. So sarcastically played on the end to their disastrous first date…

He thinks of what Tommy said just before he left. How he apologized. As if he had even done anything wrong… When it was Buck who let Gerrard get in his head. Buck, who went digging into Tommy’s past after everyone told him not to. Buck, who took what he found and used it as a weapon against Tommy in an attempt to get some kind of validation for his fragile and damaged feelings.

And Tommy still apologized. He even offered—begged really—to tell him everything. He was willing to rip open a wound he had spent years closing for Buck to just leave him standing on the sidewalk anyway.

Tommy loved Buck like he was the center of his universe, like he could hardly go a moment without him… They were truly the greatest love story Buck could have ever thought up for himself… and look at what Buck did.

Lucy was right… he doesn’t deserve Tommy.

I’ll tell you everything… Baby, I can’t live like this— without you. -September 19

I would have actually cared about making it back in one piece… or making it back at all. -September 28

I wish I had been enough of a reason for you… -August 8, 2010

Man jumps from bridge into LA Harbor late Tuesday afternoon. -August 15, 2010

My forever <3

He blinks back the tears and walks towards the door— runs, actually. He needs air, and suddenly there is none left in the room. He steps outside and gasps, sucking in sharp breaths and shakily blowing them back out. The nurses look up from their station, and he attempts a smile. He doesn’t really care that it’s definitely not convincing.

He should leave. Why is he even here? There is a chance Tommy isn’t going to wake up—the thought digs into his chest, sharp and jagged, causing it to seize up and ache—and even if he does… Buck is not the person he needs to see.

He can’t leave though. The elevator is just to his left, and he walks over to the coffee bar instead. His hands are vibrating as he pours himself a cup and brings it to his mouth.

“Evan?” A soft voice says behind him; startling him enough he spills some of the hot liquid down his chin, hissing from the burn. Buck turns around and is met with a warm smile—much too warm, given who it’s aimed at—and kind, tired, red rimmed eyes. Tommy’s mom takes a step towards him, reaching out for his hands which she grips tightly, using them to pull him down into a strong hug. “Oh, how I wish this wasn’t how we finally met,” she says swaying him back and forth; all he can do is cling to her body and try to hold himself together. She hooks an arm around Bucks when she finally lets him go and looks towards Tommy’s room. “Have we heard anything new?”

Buck tries to find his voice; apparently he left it in the room with Tommy… Good thing—actually, it’s definitely not a good thing—she is leading him right back in there. She stops just before the door when he still hasn’t answered, looks up at him with so much concern it takes the breath, he’d finally got back, away.

“Oh, sweetpea,” she says, reaching up to cup his face. “Look at me… coming in here and bombarding you like this. You're probably exhausted and I’m asking you questions.” Buck stares down at her like she can’t possibly be real. He has passed out from lack of sleep, and dreamed up this little saint of a woman who just happens to look like Tommy’s mom. There’s just no way she’s being this way with him after—well, after everything!

“I- I- I’m— I’m fine,” he finally manages, reaching up to take her hand and squeeze it for reassurance. She gives him a look— Tommy’s look. That little head tilt, with questioning eyes. Buck laughs before he can stop himself. “I promise, I am.” He’s not. He’s really not, but he’ll be damned if this woman is going to come to see her son, who is fighting for his life, and in turn have to comfort his undeserving, fully responsible, asshole of an ex.

He wonders if she even knows they broke up…

Mrs. K—a name given to her back when Tommy was in school, that has stuck through everyone he introduces to her now—gives him another warm smile, then looks through the door at Tommy. She is quiet as she lets go of Buck and walks past him into the room. “Oh…” she says quietly, sitting down in the seat next to him. She takes his hand, and holds it as best as she can around the wires and tubes and bandages.

She sucks in a sharp breath and Buck can see her shoulders start to shake. He steps into the room—maybe it’s a stupid idea for him to be comforting, but he can’t let her sit in there and grieve alone—and touches her shoulder. She startles and looks up at him. “Sorry,” he says quietly.

“Oh, you’re such a sweet boy,” Mrs. K says, taking Buck's hand and patting it. She looks back at Tommy and strokes the back of her hand over his check. “My baby… I’m here,” she whispers and Buck gets a sudden (sickening) feeling… What if he was just waiting for her.

There’s a knock on the opened door; It’s Lucy and Sal. “Hi, Mrs. K…” Lucy says, already misty eyed again. She looks from Tommy’s mom to Buck, and for a second looks confused—probably wonders why he’s still there, especially still in the room, if he no longer needs to be.

Mrs. K reaches her free hand out to her and Lucy hurries over to grab it, bringing it up to her lips before wrapping her arms around the older woman. “There are so many people here for you, Tommy,” she says, laying her hand against Lucy’s cheek. “Lulu, and Sal… and of course—” Buck fully planned on stopping her from mentioning him, but Tommy’s doctor comes to the room first.

“Dr. Murillo,” the woman introduces herself as, shaking everyone’s hands and offering a friendly enough smile once they are all out of the room. Mrs. K thanks her for taking such good care of her boy, and Dr. Murillo asks if she’s been filled in on his condition.

Mrs. K sighs, “I know he was in an accident… that he fell pretty far.” Buck feels sick listening to her retell the story he has had to tell multiple times. He tries to excuse himself—there’s no need for him here.. Mrs. K lays her hand on his arm, giving the slightest squeeze. He doesn’t miss the flash of confusion that crosses Lucy’s face again.

Dr. Murillo nods before going over the extent of his injuries, and Buck feels even worse rehearing that. But more so he hates watching Mrs. K having to hear it. The entire time, however, she remains calm, put together… She’s so strong; Buck sees where Tommy gets it from. “Something you need to consider is the… possible… next steps. If he makes it through—”

Mrs. K puts her hand up, abruptly stopping the doctor’s speech. “With all due respect, doctor… I do understand the severity of this situation… but my Tommy is a fighter. He’s going to make it through this night— and every night— until he wakes up.” Buck feels himself nodding along to her statement. She’s right. Tommy’s so strong. He’s been through so much. He has to be okay. “So instead of if, how about we say when…”

Dr. Murillo opens her mouth, then closes it back and blinks a few times. She looks into the room at Tommy and sighs, then offers a faint smile. “Okay. When Mr. Kinard wakes up, you need to prepare yourself for what recovery will most likely look like. He is going to need extensive physical therapy, nerve therapy… It's very common for patients who come out of comas after severe accidents to need psychological therapy as well. He will have to work towards walking again, and that is no guarantee...”

Buck's brain goes fuzzy at the mention of places to contact for wheelchairs. She says she will give Mrs. K some information once they know what style he might need—they have to wait to see his range of motion— and that he will likely need home health care, if he lives in a two story house he might need to move. Lucy informs her he doesn’t, his house is plenty big enough for a wheelchair, a hospital bed, whatever he needs.

“So— so you’re saying he’s gonna be paralyzed?” Buck blurts out. Dr. Murillo looks from Mrs. K to Lucy and Sal, to him.

She furrows her brows in confusion. “I’m sorry… and who are you to Mr. Kinard?”, she asks… which makes sense—seeing as he has stayed tucked away as far from Tommy’s room as he could possibly be—she wouldn’t recognize him.

For a split second he almost says his boyfriend before he remembers he no longer has that title. He sputters trying to think of what exactly to call himself, and Mrs. K’s hold on his arm tightens. “Is that what you’re saying, Doctor?” she asks.

Dr. Murillo sighs. “We won’t know fully until he wakes up. However, there is swelling and damage to his spinal cord; so yes, it is a possibility.”

Mrs. K gives the doctor a small nod, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Thank you,” she says, and the doctor shakes all their hands again before walking off.

“Would you like some coffee, Mrs. K?” Lucy asks, wrapping an arm around the older woman’s shoulders.

“Oh that would be nice, sweetie,” Mrs. K smiles and reaches up to pay Lucy’s face. “Thank you.” She gives Buck’s arm one final squeeze before letting herself be led across the lobby to the coffee bar, Sal giving him a sympathetic look before following behind them.

As soon as Buck is left alone in the hallway, he hurries off in the direction Dr. Murrillo went. “Hey— umm, doc,” he says once he catches up to her. “A- About what you said back there… that’s just— that's the worst case scenario right? That he’ll be paralyzed…” Buck pointedly ignores the deep sigh his question pulls from the doctor, barreling straight into his next. “What— what’s the best case scenario?”

She turns to fully face him, in her hands is Tommy’s chart and she grips it a little tighter. “Sir,” she says, her voice stern but not entirely harsh. “Mr. Kinard fell almost 30 feet, landing directly on his back. The fact he survived that at all is a miracle.” Buck takes in her words, swallows them down to be with the other thoughts and emotions he is trying to ignore. “I’m not sure of his and your relationship, but you are clearly having trouble allowing yourself to accept the severity of this situation. You have to understand this is not something he will just bounce back from. Best case scenario is going to be that he wakes up at all.”

Buck takes that in and tries to swallow it down, but it’s just too big. He can feel tears rushing to his eyes and he thanks the doctor so he can turn away and try to stop them. The walk back down the hall to the ICU lobby feels like it takes forever. Definitely long enough to repeat the doctor's words over and over in his head. The fact that he survived… is a miracle. This is not something he is just going to bounce back from… best case scenario is… he wakes up at all. Buck feels sick. He bypasses the lobby and gets in the elevator, pushing the button for the ground floor.

He doesn’t have his Jeep… so he calls Bobby.

“Hey kid,” Bobby says in that soft fatherly voice Buck thinks he desperately needs right now… but definitely doesn’t deserve. “You okay?”

Buck climbed into the passenger seat, already prepared to lie and say yes. His breath hitches before he can draw in enough air to speak. He tries to stop it but the sob rushing out of him too quickly. He digs the pads of his hands into his eyes to stop the tears but they are coming too fast, too strong. An arm wraps around his shoulder, and pulls him into as good a hug as possible over the center console.

“I know, Buck… I know. Let it out, kid,” Bobby says and any resemblance of hold Buck has on this situation and his emotions crumbles. He sucks in another shaky breath and just lets it all go. Through sobs, and gasping for air, he tells Bobby about the grim outlook the doctor has, and tells him Tommy might be paralyzed. Bobby listens with a look of understanding and sympathy, as he keeps one hand firmly gripping Buck’s shoulder. When he’s done Bobby reaches in the back seat and grabs a bag of food. “Eat something or I’ll drag you back in there to have a feeding tube inserted.”

Buck feels his lips twitch into a smile, and opens the bag. It’s just a sandwich, but to be fair Bobby’s sandwiches are next level, top tier… he has it eaten within a few minutes. (Could have something to do with him not even knowing when the last time he ate was… too.)

It turns out the rangers didn’t keep his Jeep, and instead returned it to the station, as he had taken off into the forest without taking his keys. Bobby pulls into the parking lot of the 118 and parks beside the Jeep, before pulling the keys out of his pocket. “Aht,” he says before letting Buck take them. “What are you going to do once you get these?” Buck thinks on it… he was honestly just planning to drive home and wallow in self pity until he withered away.

“Go home?”

“Go home to sleep,” Bobby corrects. “Then what?”

“I— I’m guessing you still won’t let me come back to work.” Bobby smirks, arching one brow. “Yeah I didn’t think so… I don’t know…”

“Have you talked to Tommy yet?”

Buck furrows his brows, unsure if he’d heard Bobby right. “Cap he— he’s…”

“He’s what? You talked to me, didn’t you? We all talked to you; hell you even admitted you could hear us.” Buck sighs, Bobby smiles. “I told you, you needed to talk to him and straighten all this out before you came back and I still mean that. Buck, this is— it’s serious, okay? You need to make some sort of peace with all this—with him—in case you— you don’t get another chance to.” He drops Buck’s keys into his hand, grabs his shoulder and squeezes.

“Thanks Cap…”

~~~

Buck walks into the hospital.

Bobby’s gonna be pissed if he finds out he didn’t go home first. He meant to go home first. He is exhausted and still dirty (a bathroom sink with multiple people watching him to make sure he didn’t go crazy with the scrubbing again can only do so much). He pulled out of the station and just ended up back at the hospital.

He returns to his corner chair; perhaps he can get a little sleep here. His eyes fall closed, he’s not sure for how long, then suddenly he feels warm. He feels his head being lifted from the wall, feels it being laid back down onto a crinkly pillow. He opens his eyes and sees Mrs. K. She clicks her tongue and smiles. “I really thought I could get you set up without waking you.”

Buck blinks and looks down at himself. A blanket—one of the warmed ones the hospital offers—is draped over him, and a pillow is between his head and the wall. “You didn’t have to—”

“Oh hush with that, of course I did!” She sits down next to him and pats his leg. “You have been here all this time and I bet you haven’t got a lick of sleep.” Buck can feel eyes burrowing into him, and when he glances up at the lobby some of the 217 have returned; Morris has returned. He is glaring at Buck. “Colin,” Mrs. K says, and Morris’ eyes break from Buck to her.

“Yes— uh, yes ma’am…”

“If there’s something you feel the need to say, please just say it, and stop wearing it across your face…” she says, bluntly. Buck is stunned, Morris is stunned, and the other firefighters… look like they might laugh. She turns her eyes to them and they all go quiet, before just sitting back down. She turns her attention back to Buck. “Alright, sweet pea, what’s all this—” she gestures wildly around his body. “—about?”

“I don’t— I don’t deserve this…” Buck whispers. Mrs. K looks at him confused, and something inside him finally gives. “I don’t understand why— how you can be so welcoming to me after I…” He takes a deep breath and looks towards Tommy’s room. “I hurt him so bad…” he says. “How can you even look at me when I’m the reason we’re sitting here now.”

“Did you cause the helicopter to crash?”

“What— no… but I—” I might as well have…

“You what? You broke up with him? You went digging and found out about Jay?”

He feels his eyes widen. “You— you knew about that?”

She smirks, actually smirks, squeezing Buck's hand. “Oh honey… Tommy tells me everything. He was ringing me before he even got back to his car. Saying he’d messed up, he blew it…”

Buck takes a breath, it catches in his throat and he knows he’s going to start crying. He frantically tries to blink back the tears and shakes his head. “He didn’t— it wasn’t his fault?! I messed up. I— I invaded his privacy,” he gasps. “I hacked his account. I threw it all in his face even after I saw how upset it made him the first time… everyone tried to warn me not to go digging for a reason to be angry, just like everyone told me he was spiraling… and I didn’t— I completely deserve all the hate I’m getting, I know that. I am the one who blew it…” He pulls the blanket off of him, and sets it in an open chair. “I shouldn’t even be here… he— he doesn’t need me here. I’m only making it worse being here… you’re here now… that’s what he needs, what he was waiting for.”

Mrs. K stares at him for a while before sighing. She shifts in the seat to face Buck. “Sweetie, I know how difficult this all is for you… the guilt you’re putting on yourself… I watched Tommy do the same thing when—” she pauses, takes a breath. “He needs you here… to know you’re here,” she says, voice suddenly heavy, and trembling like she might cry. “He is not holding on for me…” she says softly, giving him a smile. “Or anyone else. He is holding on for you... He loves you so much, and he would never forgive himself in this life or the next if he put you through the heartache he had to endure.” She stares up at Buck, tears filling her tired eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, it’s— it’s not that…”

Mrs. K sniffles and wipes the falling tear off her cheek. “Then, get up,” she says, standingss as, and tugging Buck up by his hand.

“Wha— uh, what are we—”

“Come on.”

Buck follows behind Mrs. K, who still has a firm grip on his hand, across the lobby to Tommy’s room. She lets him go at the door and walks into the room. Lucy looks up from her phone, Mrs. K asks if they can have a moment. Buck dips his head to avoid seeing the surprise look that causes. Once Lucy leaves Mrs. K beckons Buck over to Tommy’s side. Seeing him this close is hard. He’s so discolored and swollen.

“Sit down,” she instructs, and Buck does. She lifts one of Tommy’s hands, and reaches for one of Buck’s, gently laying Tommy’s in it.

“I don’t—”

“You shush, and you’ll see…” she says, offering him a smile before running her fingers through Tommy’s hair. “Hey baby, you know who’s here?” Buck makes a strangled noise, about to protest, and gets Mrs. K’s finger over his lips. “It’s Evan…”

Tommy squeezes.

Buck gasps, and looks at their hands. Just like in the forest, Tommy’s hand is closed tight around his, then releases. “T- Tommy…” he says, and the hand tightens again. “Oh my god… your— you can—” Buck can feel tears pooling in his eyes. Tommy squeezes his hand again and they topple over. “I can’t believe it—” he cries.

“I’ll give you a bit,” Mrs. K says, laying her hand on Buck’s shoulder.

“Um… H- Hi…Hey— hey Tommy,” he starts, smiling when he feels the squeeze like a response. “I— um…” He runs his thumb over Tommy’s hand. He has half a mind to lace their fingers together… he doesn’t. “I don’t even know where to start. Sorry doesn’t cut it… you deserve so much more than that. I was wrong, I was cruel… I hurt you, and for what? To be right? To prove you were like the others… that you weren’t this amazing, wonderful, beautiful person… who only ever loved me, for me. You were the first person who loved me like I was enough…” Buck’s lip trembles, his tears fall, he lets them. They drop down and land on Tommy’s hand. It squeezes. “I don’t deserve you, I know that… and I will spend the rest of my life regretting what I did. But— But I need you to be here, so I can spend that time making it up to you, okay? And— and I will… Tommy. I will spend everyday making it up to you… forever.”

Tommy’s hand squeezes. He takes in a deep breath, and lets out a gagged noise around his breathing tube. Buck looks up, bracing himself for the worst… what if it was him Tommy was waiting for… because wouldn’t that just be his luck if the reaper in the room used his apology as an opening to swoop in and take him. What he is met with is Tommy’s eye—the good one (i.e not the swollen one)—open and looking at him.

~~~~~~~

And for the tags <3

@bucksxkinard @30somethingautisticteacher @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @girlwonder-writes @sira1420 @kinkley-are-adorkable-flirts @somethingaboutfirefly @ilikethe-internet @itsametaphorok <3

(if you'd like to be added to the tag list just let me know 😊)

#911 abc #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #sal deluca #lucy donato #original characters #Tommy Kinard's mom #Tw major character injury #tw depressing stuff #angst angst angst #there will be a happy ending tho... I promise

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ash-says · 1 year ago

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How to tackle Fragmented Sleep/ Sleep disruptions :

This post is inspired and geared to help @thisisneededfmr .

Also to every one of those who are going through similar issues. It becomes extremely taxing when you can't sleep peacefully at night. You keep on waking up in between after some hours if not then suddenly you are half asleep which according to me is even more annoying. Being an insomniac or nightmares can make this condition even worse.

Sleep fragmentation can be described as frequent interruption or disruption in the normal sleep cycle. It can cause various chronic health issues as well as have repercussions on mental health.

Ways to tackle Fragmented Sleep:

1) Develop a sleep schedule:

Instead of being a night owl jump into your bed and try to sleep. It will be difficult at first but slowly and steadily you might fall asleep. Count numbers?? Try to sleep at the same time everyday. Because once it becomes a habit you will automatically feel sleepy.

2) Avoid Caffeine or any foods that result in hyperactivity:

Coffee is infamous for making you feel nervous and jittery. So avoid it before bedtime hours. Any kind of foods that result in a hyperactive nervous system cancel them out.

3) Practice relaxation techniques:

Listen to calming music, do breath work, meditate, read a nice book before you fall asleep. This might help in calming your nerves.

4) Exercise regularly and do yoga before sleeping:

The benefits of exercise are well known to us. I don't want to waste my time in convincing you about it. There are some specific yoga asanas you can do before sleeping and trust me it works like wonders. One of my friends when I used to live in a dorm made us do it and the sleep after that was just a chef's kiss.

5) Limit screen time before bed:

The radiations emitted by the phone or electronic devices disturb your sleep cycle. So try not to use your phone before you fall asleep. In fact at my home this is a rule we never sleep with the phones near us. They are kept at a great distance so that the quality of sleep is not disturbed.

6) Try not to do work or other activities in bed:

I read it somewhere on Tumblr long back please if anyone knows the blog kindly tag them in comments so I can give the reference here. It stated that you should only use your bed for sleeping as it will automatically signal your brain to sleep once you are in there.

7) Address your mental issues:

Most of the time sleep fragmentation is caused by psychological problems. Is there something you are trying to escape from? Or are you in a stressful environment? Depression? Anxiety? Adhd?etc you get my point right. Try to fix those issues. Your problem might be arising from there. Who knows.

8) Check your medicines if you are on any:

Literally!!! I am not kidding. It's really serious. Some medicines put your nervous system in hyperactive mode resulting in fragmented sleep. Check with your doctor and share these things with them. If the problem has started after you started the dosage maybe it's responsible for it.

From here the suggestions are based on personal experience with no scientific data to back it up. Use your own discernment.

9) Hug someone or something and sleep:

This works for me sometimes. If there's someone you are close to then try asking them if they would be okay to sleep while hugging you or holding you close. It's therapeutic. Plus it helps in relaxing the adrenaline in your body and brings you out of the survival mode.

10) Sleep in an open space:

Sometimes our bodies are not able to relax in a confined place. It's part of a phase especially if you have trauma related to closed areas. It can be triggering for your body and your brain might wake you up in between to look for danger. So sleeping in an open space like a balcony or something might work.

11) Keep a knife under your pillow:

I know this sounds ridiculous but it's a belief in our culture that doing it solves sleep related issues. Especially if you are having nightmares. And even if it doesn't work you have a knife to swing if someone attacks you in case. It's cool.

12) See a doctor:

When nothing of the above helps and even your own techniques that you might know it's high time you take professional help. It's not something you should ignore.

Being stated all that I really wish you a GOOD NIGHT SLEEP and pray that you overcome these issues. There are a lot of underlying causes that result in sleep fragmentation but the main one being Stress, Trauma, Emotional distress,etc.

So find a friend and vent it out if you are going through any negative state of mind. If you don't have anyone my ask box is always open. Drop a message and I will try to reach out to you as soon as I can.

Reminder: You are doing great given the circumstances. So keep fighting on and don't let anything have power over you.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

Note

Now… we all know König is the epitome of a comphet man. Sadly, he has suppressed his homoerotic feelings (this guy has bathed in comics filled with half nude barbarian warriors, be they men or women, since he was a teenager) and will never address his bisexuality in any way because he's fixed on the ideal of some het idyll.

GODDD YOU WRITE!!! toxic kön so well it's actually unbelievable like it's so "traumatized person's idea of love that they based almost entirely on the dynamics of their family". like in that "im going to do it right and im gonna perform this role so well and ill be happy"

probably even better for him if his gf also comes from an awful family since she's willing to try and make the shoe fit all the time no matter if she fits that, if her own needs come out and she can admit them to herself because nothing can compare to the euphoria she (or könig) feels when he comes back home from deployment, meeting her in the kitchen where she's preparing food for him. and the house is clean and almost quiet and she has her hair and makeup done, she's so dressed up you'd think they're having guests over

probably bc the ghosts of their families (the arguments the physical abuse the fear and desperation and hopelessness and false promises of love and safety) are those omnipresent guests lmao. in their head there's a weird voyeuristic need to show off the perfect het relationship even when no one is watching

cw: im getting weird about gender in this next lart

but i bet könig and his gf in this case would also probably get scared shitless when put into a position that is the opposite of gender conformity.... (?)

his beloved would hate being compared to anything masculine, he hates being percieved as anything feminine. gender non conformity is something they feel is tied to being in a nonhet relationship so they will avoid it at all costs.

being in a het relationship, a traditional one especially, creates some kind of invisible boundary that they feel they can't cross 99% of the time, can't be forced into that other role of their "opposite" no matter what they do because the performance of masculinity and femininity is there in every other aspect of their lives and it makes them feel safe

he is the perfect man, the perfect husband and she is his perfect wife, a woman that only belongs to him and nothing can go wrong

"probably bc the ghosts of their families (the arguments the physical abuse the fear and desperation and hopelessness and false promises of love and safety) are those omnipresent guests lmao. in their head there's a weird voyeuristic need to show off the perfect het relationship even when no one is watching"

This is perfection, this whole message and esp. the paragraph above is art and you're so right!

And your analysis got me thinking...

What if they sometimes stray to the edges of conformity, for example Engel raises her voice and finally snaps at him? König gets to see something unusual: a woman being strong and putting up some boundaries and standing her ground... And he doesn’t get mad, he actually gets intrigued (even aroused??) So he continues to push those boundaries again and more often, tries to carve out that reaction so different from how his mother behaved when he was a child.

Or when Engel sometimes gets to be on top and ride him while having a wicked little twinkle in her eyes? König gets to witness the blunt force of her lust, sees a glimpse of this woman who is comfortable in her sexuality while he’s lying there under her, seemingly vulnerable, as she takes him, uses his body for a change? Fuuuuck

Or how Engel feels in those rare moments when König is seconds away from crying, he's sniffling in her tits because of this or that trauma response or trigger, when König, this big, broad, controlling and protective giant is the one who needs protection and support?

She feels so out of her element and at the same time feels such a relief when the eternal masculine monument of power finally crumbles, even if just a little, and she gets to caress his head and soothe König during his breakdown.

Then back to their “preferred” gender roles they go, König clears his throat and Engel cooks another dinner, giggles in his lap while he treats her like a fragile little princess…

Gahh I want Engel to try on his hood and like choke him a little in bed or something while König looks up at her with the tiniest tinge of submissive adoration. Also, why can’t these two just be normal and work their way out of their stupid problems in a healthy way lol… (I wouldn’t have anything but wholesome fluff to write then would I!)

#answered #yandere könig

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fibula-rasa · 9 months ago

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Watch More Movies Notebook: September ‘24

(and a few things from August because I didn’t have the time to update last month!)

This month's blog journal features two contenders for best new-to-me films of the year (from Argentina and Brazil respectively), a handful of Depression-era shorts that range from absurdist comedy to Jungian fable to psychological actuality, plus one for the Sad Clown Hall of Fame (I've decided that's a real thing). Also included: a round up of recent posts and a preview of what's coming up this month.

Favorite New-to-me Films of the Month

(listed in order pictured above, L to R)

As always, if any other films catch your eye, but you need specific content/trigger warnings, feel free to ask and I’ll try to oblige!

READ on BELOW the JUMP!

I, the Worst of All / Yo, la peor de todas (1990)

[letterboxd | imdb | kanopy (US)]

María Luisa Bemberg’s film adaptation of Octavio Paz’s study of the life and work of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. Sor Juana was a 17th century polymath from (what is now) Mexico and the film recounts her struggles to continue her work and her relationship with the vicereine of New Spain.

This is easily one of my favorite new-to-me movies of the year so far. Biopics often feel formally stodgy to me, but Bemberg’s film is highly visual and plays with time, space, and symbolism, revealing emotional truths in ways that avoid going artificially melodramatic. The relationship between Sor Juana and the vicereine unfolds beautifully and both actresses, Assumpta Serna and Dominique Sanda, are fantastic. I would recommend checking this one out even if you haven’t read any of Sor Juana’s work—in fact, watching this movie will likely motivate you to get reading!

——— ——— ———

La cartomancienne (1932)

[letterboxd | imdb]

An experimental short about a lovelorn young woman seeking advice from a fortune teller. Jerome Hill’s first directorial outing is a Jungian fable peppered with references to supernatural folk beliefs. It’s evocatively constructed and has a great rhythm to it (paired with Hill’s original score). It’s a real gem!

——— ——— ———

Little Geezer (1932)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Theodore Huff took a mess of New Jersey ragamuffins, dressed them up as grown ups, had them act out half-remembered scenes from pre-code crime movies, and gave us the gift of Little Geezer. I found it genuinely funny, but, even if you don’t vibe with Huff’s sense of humour, you might get a kick out of how clearly the kids enjoyed playing gangsters or the shocking novelty of the kids smoking, drinking, carrying tommy guns, etc. Greta Garbage’s impression of Garbo was surprisingly great though??? Might not recommend this one as freely as the two above as Huff so densely packed Geezer with references you may need to have seen all of the movies referenced to pick up what Huff is putting down.

——— ——— ———

The City (1939)

[letterboxd | imdb]

A short, five-part documentary about American city planning produced for the New York World’s Fair of 1939 might be a hard sell for some, but with its truly outstanding creative team, The City is more compelling viewing than you might assume! The City was conceived by housing advocate Catherine Bauer, written by documentarian Pare Lorentz (The Plow that Broke the Plains) and Lewis Mumford, directed by Ralph Steiner (H2O, Mechanical Principles, Surf and Seaweed) and future MoMA director Willard Van Dyke (Hands), assisted by Henwar Rodakiewicz (Portrait of a Young Man in Three Movements), and scored by Aaron Copland. I might have some personal bias here as I grew up in NJ and have lived in New York and Pittsburgh, but as a modern viewer, I found The City to be an interesting window into the past.

——— ——— ———

White Paradise / Bílý ráj (1924)

[letterboxd | imdb | Watch at Národní filmový archiv]

Looks like Christmas X Criminals also has a tradition outside of the English-speaking world! Anny Ondra plays Nina, a whimsical young orphan under the guardianship of a nasty tavern keeper. On Christmas Eve, Ivan, a man framed for a crime against Nina’s parents, escapes prison to spend one last holiday with his ailing mother. Together, Ivan and Nina with the aid of a travelling puppeteer uncover the true bandit, exonerating Ivan and freeing Nina.

Bílý ráj is a charming film shot on location in the Šumava forest in Bohemia. Don’t be put off by the overly literal English translation of the title, the connotations are off by modern standards! This will be a solid recommendation for the coming winter months and I’m thinking about putting together a little list of some of the best Christmas X Criminals movies out there. If you have any underappreciated/underseen instances of the trope please suggest them to me! Bonus: it has a wonderful poster!

——— ——— ———

Seeing the World, Part One: A Visit to New York, N.Y. (1937)

[letterboxd | imdb]

This cheeky short by Rudy Burckhardt is a mock travelogue about visiting New York City. Referencing both Traveltalks shorts and the city symphony films, Burckhardt playfully jumbles genres and the film’s acerbity doesn’t overstay its welcome with a ~10 minute runtime. Also, Seeing the World features Joseph Cotten’s first screen role!

——— ——— ———

The Golden Clown / Klovnen (1926)

[letterboxd | imdb]

The great Gösta Ekman turns in one of the best silent film performances I’ve ever seen in this. Ekman plays Joe Higgins, a talented young clown in a travelling circus. Joe is in love with Daisy, the stunt rider and daughter of the circus’ owners. A twist of fate results in Joe becoming a top performer, headlining his own theatrical production in Paris. Unfortunately, Joe becomes a workaholic and Daisy gets romanced on the side by a caddish fashion designer. Both of their lives fall apart after they decide to divorce. A.W. Sandberg does a phenomenal job of heightening personal tragedy to an epic scale. I was astounded at how smoothly Ekman performed twenty years worth of aging in two hours. As much as I enjoyed this film (and cried over the finale), it did leave me wondering if they make movies about happy clowns? CW/TW for suicide.

——— ——— ———

April Fool (1924)

[letterboxd | imdb]

An occasional habit of mine is to watch silent comedy shorts during my lunch break. One afternoon this month, I watched three Charley Chase/Jimmy Jump shorts. They were all winners, but April Fool was my favorite. On the first of April, Jimmy Jump gets blindsided by pranks when he arrives at work. Jimmy swears he won’t get pranked again and makes a bet with his coworker (Noah Young). Chaos ensues. The other shorts I watched, Publicity Pays (1924) and A Ten-Minute Egg (1924), were also good, though not as tightly constructed. Publicity Pays features an especially sweet and well-behaved monkey BTW.

——— ——— ———

Footnote to Fact (1933)

[letterboxd | imdb]

A harrowing short by Lewis Jacobs documenting The Great Depression in New York City. Originally intended to be part of a series that wasn’t completed, Footnote to Fact survived on its own (thanks to Anthology Film Archives) as a stream-of-consciousness rhythmic portrait of the quotidian horror of the Depression. Honestly, I can’t believe I hadn’t seen this earlier, but I’m glad to have finally remedied that. Worth checking out, if you’re in a place to handle it. TW/CW for suicide and depictions of real dead animals (in a butcher window).

——— ——— ———

The Hole in the Wall (1929)

[letterboxd | imdb]

After a major train accident, The Fox (Edward G. Robinson) and his crew are forced to rework their phony psychic scheme. When Jean (Claudette Colbert) knocks on their door, fresh off a prison sentence for a crime she didn’t commit, she takes on the role of their faux medium. Jean has her own revenge plot in mind: kidnapping the granddaughter of the rich woman who framed her.

I came across this movie when reading about Robert Florey’s feature films and I’m glad I did—as a big fan of both Robinson and Colbert. Robinson doesn’t have all that much to do in the movie, but he’s very charming in it. Colbert gets the most to do with the conflicted Jean—a woman who chooses a life of crime only after a life of crime was chosen for her. But, the real reason this overlooked pre-code made this list is that the climax of the film was such a shock to me! I won’t give it away in case you decide to check it out yourself, but I never anticipated that!

——— ——— ———

Quilombo (1984)

[letterboxd | imdb | kanopy (US)]

I’ve had really great luck working through my watchlist lately. Yo, la peor de todas is certainly on my best new-to-me list for the whole year and so is Quilombo! Quilombo is a fantasticized telling of the true story of Palmares, a free community of escaped slaves in colonial-era Brazil. The film primarily focuses on the events surrounding the fight to remain free of Portuguese authorities while Ganga Zumba and later Zumbi led the settlement. As I’m not Brazilian, this history was largely new to me and it’s been enriching to learn more about it. To me, this film seems like a great entry point. It’s stylish in a meaningful way, has a fantastic soundtrack (which I’ve already listened to twice since watching the film), and the production design, editing, and performances are all super. Also, Quilombo is a film worth studying if you want to see how a filmmaker can artistically condense a large span of time to fit feature length without awkwardly hopping along a timeline of events like a slideshow brought to life.

——— ——— ———

Monthly Round-up

In case you missed it, I spent the better part of the last few months constructing and heavily researching “Cosplay the Classics: Nazimova in Salomé.” There were so many compelling avenues to go down that I split the cosplay into two and a half parts!

Part One: “The Importance of Being Peter” covers Nazimova’s creative decisions in adapting Oscar Wilde’s play for the silent screen—illustrating both her filmmaking techniques and her keen awareness of her core fanbase: young/independent women.

Part Two: “Artists United?” details the struggles Nazimova had in getting Salomé released and finding its audience. This part describes how the American film industry was growing and changing in the early 1920s and how Nazimova’s independent productions fit into (or didn’t fit into) that landscape. I also aimed to complicate the oversimplified narrative of Salomé as a flop by collecting and analysing data surrounding its release in comparison to her Metro films.

Part Two Point Five (a.k.a. Cosplay the Classics: Post-script) will be up soon. It’s a slightly shorter piece covering Salomé’s place in cinematic Orientalism. Stay tuned!

——— ——— ———

Since the last notebook installment, I made themed gif/still sets for:

The Golden Clown (1926)

Salvation Hunters (1925)

(which I talked about in the last installment of WMM Notebook)

Danse Macabre (1922)

Yo, la peor de todas (1990)

A Day in Santa Fe (1931)

(which I talked about in the last installment of WMM Notebook)

I also made some gifs of my Salomé cosplay, because I was so pleased with how the wig turned out I needed to show it in motion!

——— ——— ———

In addition to the follow-up to “CtC: Salomé,” I’m working on a quick how-to rundown of the cosplay, in case you need some Halloween inspiration!

I’ve also got a slate of spooky-season appropriate gifs/stills to post here on tumblr for October.

Until next time, Happy Halloween and Happy viewing!

——— ——— ———

☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

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un-unavoidableanxiousball · 1 year ago

Text

✨ Meowpheus ✨

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

Masterlist

Prompt used: Bite, Flashbacks

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dream of The Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of The Endless, random OC Patricia created just for this

Tags: hurt/comfort, possible out of character,

! Warnings ! : flashback (if I succeeded) of an ambush (though it's probably more of a subtext), blood

Word count: 1868

This is one hell of a slippery slope, I swear.

New Year's Eve is coming up.

Hob has a love-hate relationship of sorts with this holiday. Well... he doesn't have anything against the holiday itself, but what it entails — fireworks.

It was the sounds that bothered him. That's also the reason for his near half-century hatred of poppers or bang snaps. Reminded him a bit too much of artillery shells bursting in the air. But after his participation in The Great War and WWII?

(However brief that one was. It got too dangerous too fast. Sue him for not wanting a part in that.)

He had found out the hard way that sudden flashes of light have joined "Hob's private party of various PTSD triggers".

He can certainly try to avoid getting triggered. But one can only go so far out of their way to do so. Been there, done that.

Because surely a notorious tendency to move out of cities around New Year's Eve is such a fantastic habit. Heading to the closest available secluded and unpopulated areas can be a nightmare. There's traffic and weather to consider, and ughh, the iced-over roads. All in all not really ideal in the long run.

Nowadays, at times like this, he opted to staying inside and listening to music or other media with his noise cancelling headphones.

He'd stay holed up in his apartment. High stock of food? — some leftovers from Christmas Dinner, but most just from his excessive grocery runs for Christmas — ✓Check.

Hob is sure to avoid any reasons to go outside. Whether he succeeds or not is a whole other thing.

He did actually pick up the habit of listening to music when outdoors. It helps. It's not foolproof, that's for certain, but if it works - it works.

Nonetheless there are moments when taking off those headphones is simply polite and right thing to do.

Like today.

Dream had found himself on high alert the second Hob had gotten out of bed. There was a tension to him that Dream hasn't seen before. He tried his best to provide comfort for his friend, but it didn't seem to be helping much.

The entire time the air between them was charged with uncertainty and apprehension. Perhaps Hob can read him - even in cat form - like an open book. It shouldn't be surprising. After all, by their sixth meeting, in 1889, Hob already saw more than Dream had liked or let on at the time. The human hadn't even been afraid to speak his mind.

Dream witnessed how throughout the day it was getting worse. To an unobservant individual nothing would have been amiss. But Dream has known Hob longer, than any human ever could, therefore he saw those changes with no difficulty. Hob lead fewer conversations with even fewer words and little Hob-like expressiveness.

When push came to shove, it took mere seconds for Hob to cave.

Dream lazily follows Hob's movement.

Back and forth between the fridge, the oven and the cupboards.

A melody softly escapes the immortal's lips now and again. Not unfamiliar, but Dream won't delve into its name or by whom.

After stewing the minced meat, Hob goes ahead with layering the pasta sheets, sliced cheese and prepared meat into a pyrex dish.

The oven's digital clock struck 17:53 when Hob's phone starts ringing.

"Hello?"

The response isn't audible that far from the counter Dream lies on. Scratch that, it would be hard to hear from a closer distance anyway, because Hob has earphones plugged in. Whatever it was, it was enough for Hob's shoulders to tense.

"Pat!" Hob turns to turn off the oven.

"What's wrong? You never call me." Dream lifts his head at the worried tone and is quickly approached. Shaky fingers caress his head and neck.

"Oh love," his eyes close, "do you need me to come over?"

Hob slowly opens his eyes, eyebrows raise and with a softer voice, "Do you want me to?"

The answer must be positive, because his friend says, "Take some deep breaths for me, Patts." with that placating type of smile, and "I'll be right there."

"-bert. Rob, hello. Earth to Robbie Rob Bobby-"

Hob is shaken from his thoughts, only to be greeted by a finger poking his cheek repeatedly. His gaze flows from the finger up the arm to the shoulders and finally rest on Patricia's irritated face.

Oops.

"There you are! I've been trying to get your attention for minutes, Rob."

"Sorry, Patts. I got to lost in my thoughts again." He gives a nervous chuckle, then adds with humor "Who would've thought bloodshed is so enticing."

"Rob!" She gasps with indignation and hits him upside the head, "I don't need you to protect my honour. I can handle myself."

"I know. I know you can." He brings up his hands in an "I-mean-you-no-harm" gesture.

He clears his throat, "So...can we go through it again?"

"You know, if I wanted someone to sit around and ignore me I might as well have chosen Logan." Patricia stands up from the kitchen counter to resume pacing. "You are a fantastic guy, Robert. I need your help, so focus stays here mister."

"Full attention. Got it. No distractions." Hob nods his head and throws a sheepish smile.

Dream settles on Hob's lap and absentmindedly listens to the conversation between Patricia and Hob. From time to time Hob's hand goes down his spine or to scratch his head. That's fine, Dream is here to offer support and comfort. No more or less at the moment.

Patricia's earnest and expressive voice introduces an unnoticeable tune. Electric hum makes for a quiet echoic bass line. Freshly put kettle on the stove awaits its solo part.

It happens some time along Patricia's second retelling - a sudden noise that puts an end to this unheard odd melody and silent calm.

Dream's attention shoots to his friend. Immediately notes the distant yet focused look in Hob's eyes. Dream, not noticing Hob scanning the place, was just about to direct that focus to him, but-

A second cracking sound slips through the open window, and with it-

Patricia gasps as Hob falls to the ground and scrambles away to a wall.

For a second there was nothing else, but Hob's heavy breathing audible.

Suddenly the kettle started to whistle and all hell broke loose.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Hob holds his breath, strains his ears and waits.

He listens and listens. His heartbeat strong and loud within his chest. Adrenaline rushing through his blood. He scans the room for the best place to hide, the closest weapon. Just in case his ears were right.

He doesn't know how long he waits but there it is again!

He drops to the ground and swiftly crawls to the wall. Away from any door's or window's view.

His hand itches. A wooden chair's leg will suffice. He has to break it away.

Not yet.

His heart hammers in his chest. He waits ready for an opportunity to present itself.

Now!

With precise moves the wooden chair gives out with ease.

A long whistle blast, perfect. Good enough to mask that racket with.

Then he snaps his head around upon hearing a hurt yelp.

Hob for the first time acknowledges the other's presence. He sees Helen cradling her hand to her chest. Sees the blood staining her dress.

God's wounds. It's one thing to witness fellow comrades being wounded in action. Quite another when it's innocent civilians.

The sound of an opening window snaps him back to the present. He swings with force at it, anticipating someone to reach through it, to hurt them.

Except - no one did.

Fuck.

He can't go back to his waiting position, he compromised his location. He closes his eyes and inhales. He needs to think.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Dream jumps on a stool and without hesitation bites Patricia in her left hand.

She yelps but brings her attention to the cat.

There, at least she's no longer frozen.

Dream gestures his head toward the window.

Patricia with her hand pressed to her chest, looks back and forth between Dream, Hob and the window. Like she's unsure what Dream wants her to do.

So he narrows his eyes and with theatrical exaggeration snaps his jaws. A clear intent. It's not hard to understand.

At last she approaches the window and shuts it.

Suddenly Hob takes a big swing with the leg and Patricia misses being hit by a hair.

She takes multiple steps backwards. They both see Hob freeze.

In seconds his attention is back on Patricia.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Hob opens his eyes and turns to Helen, and whisper, "Are you okay?"

Why is there so much blood?

"Yeah..."

He doesn't see her look at him puzzled. With efficiency he tears a fragment of his shirt, approaches her and wraps Helen's hand to stop the bleeding somewhat.

"That should do it."

He grabs her other hand and drags her to the bedroom. Once there Hob makes her sit behind the closet while he, himself, guards the door. Listening and ready to defend. He calms his heart. He looks at her and puts his finger to his lips.

She nods. Good.

He closes his eyes and focuses on his hearing.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈

Dream follows them close behind and stands near the sitting woman, watching closely both humans.

Minutes pass and the impromptu bandage on Patricia's hand is starting to leak. Drop by drop it adds to the main stain on her shirt, expanding it.

At some point Hob slid down the wall to the floor.

Dream in measured steps goes to Hob and decides to lie next to the immortal human's leg.

In took a few long moments, but finally Hob has opened his eyes and noticed Dream.

"Oh."

Hob lets go of the wooden leg. He groans and thumps his head on the wall behind him.

"You with us now, Robert?" Patricia speaks up shakily, unsure.

"Yep, body and mind in one place." Hob chuckles with no humor.

"You know that cat of yours is very protective of you. I have a wound to prove it." Patricia gestures at her hand. Dream narrows his eyes at the woman.

Of course I'm protective of him, he's my only friend.

Patricia lets out a thoughtful hum, "I wonder if it'll scar..."

A breathy exhale leaves Hob.

"Vicious, isn't he?" A crooked smile disappears as quickly as it appeared. Dream in response licks Hob's fingers.

"Are you alright? You gave me quite a scare there Robert. I bet your cat too."

"Hm?" Hob lifts his head, "Oh. Don't worry, I'm fine. It was a long time coming." A poor imitation of a carefree-like voice, but it still holds tention beneath. Such a simple thing betraying one's emotional state.

"If you say so." Patricia's voice is woven with doubt.

"Really, Patts. You don't have to worry."

"Ok, I believe you.",

Hob raises his eyebrow, "Okay?"

"Okay," then, "as long as you receive help... not my business."

Hob sends her a grateful smile. "Thanks."

He nods his head and takes deep breaths. Minute long silence passes.

"So listen, about your problem, I dunno if you want my advice or not. But if I were you I'd think it would be for the best if..."

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

Positive and constructive criticism is welcome. I'll embrace any advice coming my way.

Also sorry for taking so long to write this. TwT

@fandom-free-bingo

#bingo #dreamling #FrostyEditionBingo #FandomFreeBingo #dreamling fanfic #fanfic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #meowpheus #the sandman #hurt/comfort #my ocs #flashback

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paramouradrift · 1 year ago

Note

#Avatar BioShock Crossover AU" 2023 please!!!

This one's a doozy.

I don't remember precisely what triggered this one, but there was a period of a couple weeks last year where I got really into the idea of an Avatar/BioShock crossover AU. This spawned several AUs, only one of which made it into my WIP folder, apparently, so the rest must be lurking on discord with my beta reader. This particular AU has a few scant character notes, some timelines, and a discussion of themes that paint what I would consider a compelling but overly-ambitious picture.

The themes in play: destiny, causality, consciousness, free will, and moral choice. We are pulling material from BioShock, BioShock 2, BioShock 2: Minerva's Den, BioShock Infinite, Avatar: the Last Airbender, and Legend of Korra. Rapture exists in its own right, whereas Columbia is replaced with Republic City. Tears, Spirit Portals, and Spirit Wilds are all the same thing, linking Rapture and Republic City across time and space. Bending and Splicing are the same, as well, with the "Avatar" being someone who has spliced up to an incredible degree and not died of every kind of cancer. The Avatar State is thus a kind of berserk mode that uses up all the EVE in the Avatar's body, leaving them powerless and vulnerable at the end. Past Avatars exist as coherent ADAM ghosts.

Aang, in this story, is a Jack/Eleanor Lamb character originally from Rapture who escaped into Republic City through a tear, and set about trying to find a way back to Rapture's past to undo all of the damage he ended up causing. He's a man haunted by guilt whose efforts are ultimately futile, because that's not how causality works.

Korra is our Elizabeth, whose ability to open and close tears makes her valuable to Aang in his quest for redemption, but also makes her a target for everyone on both sides of the veil who wants a slice of the Rapture/Republic City pie. But opening and closing tears destroys entire sections of probability space, creating fixed points in spacetime and releasing a ton of spiritual energy that gets eaten by the bioluminescent mass that sits beneath Rapture, spitting ADAM slugs back out into the world, accelerating the chaos and decline of both cities.

I have here that Aang somehow travels back to the past and becomes the founder of Rapture, which means he later creates and then kills himself while trying to do everything he can to avoid that outcome. It probably made more sense in my head the time. The other members of the Gaang are listed as Rapture's Best & Brightest: Zuko and Sokka are divorced and miserable, with Zuko trying to be a single dad and Sokka inventing the Thinker; Katara is the city's foremost doctor and philanthropist; Suki is a detective/private security chief; and Toph runs the banks because nobody else is capable. She also laid a lot of the city's foundation.

The Mechanist is here inventing things. Wu is a popular singer with his own radio program. Suyin is a prima donna ballerina. Asami is...presumably doing something amazing, but I didn't write that bit down.

The villain rogue's gallery is all here as well, moving back and forth across the tears and causing mischief and mayhem. Zaheer's radical spirituality causes Aang (Rapture Founder) to ban religion, and Unalaq tries to get control of the Avatar Program so that he can become an Avatar himself. Ozai and Zhao extend their feelers throughout both cities, seizing power and resources for themselves. Amon slots himself nicely into the Atlas role (plot twist and all), so nothing really more to say there. Kuvira is apparently a former police officer turned mob boss capitalizing on the chaos for her own gain. Long Feng is a cold technocrat who runs a private security firm and manages assets for city big wigs. My note on him is "a less affable Sinclair."

Pro-bending/ADAM boxing is a thing, so Mako and Bolin are here trying to make it big in the big bad city/ies, which probably means I planned some background Wuko.

I have no idea what my endgame was. I don't know what the actual plot was going to be. This project wasn't one I seriously considered planning out in detail because I was in the middle of H&V/J&R work, and that takes priority over anything else with this level of ambition. Having said that, it might be interesting to take another pass at the concept and see if I can turn all of that up there into something workable.

WIP Game master post.

#atla #fanfic #wip #tag meme #tag game #zukka #jesus h roosevelt christ #i have no chill guys #none whatsoever

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sol-consort · 1 year ago

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I was so upset when I thought Grunt died because I was like “I’ve seen him in different cutscenes though what’d I do wrong???” Luckily Grunt is the goat and lived because he’s Grunt. Wish I took him on missions more but you can’t beat the Tali/Shepard/Garrus combo I rocked the entire Trilogy

I love my fatass son even if he blocks 60% of my shots by walking directly in front of my camper Shepard just right after I pull the trigger then yells at me for friendly fire WHEN HE WAS THE ONE TO WALK IN FRONT OF MY SNIPER.

anyway so, I love him so much! I was a few seconds away from opening the task manager and force closing the game bc I thought for sure he died and I didn't want to finish the unskippable cutscene. I would've kill a that rachni queen a thousand times over if it meant Grunt got to live, zero hesitation.

Thankfully his bloodied limbing body emerged eventually and I have never felt happier in my life.

I wish him and Eve had an interaction since the two of them were in the medbay during the same time but oh well. She would've definitely fell hard for my glorious beloved son and forgot about dusty crusty Wrex!

Also his email after he recovers is so

OF COURSE MY BELOVED SON, I WILL SEND YOU ALL THE SHARK VIDEOS IN THE WORLD. SHARKS ARE VERY SMOOTH SKINNED AND MISUNDERSTOOD CREATURES WHO ARE CURIOUS BY NATURE JUST LIKE YOU MY SON. I AM GLAD IT IS NOT DOLPHINS YOU HAVE AN INTEREST IN SINCE DOLPHINS ARE DEVILSPAWN SOCIOPATHS.

it is super adorable that both the animals he is obsessed with are from earth just like Shepard, dinosaurs and sharks.

Wait are turians dinosaurs who survived their own meteor radiation-

Anyway! Here is more on the game report so far. I am falling asleep as I type.

Story plot

So far enjoying everything, the story writing is amazing and the dialogue is pretty hard hitting at times. Sometimes bloated but oh well. Tuchanka felt like such a big pay off to a huge build up since the first game, the quest delivered a full course meal.

Especially the reaper fight oh god, you get to feel powerless for once with a brute after brute after brute being thrown at you and no obvious spare ammo laying around. You just have to gun it (Ha) to the controls and avoid getting sqaushed like a bug by the reaper or charged by the brutes like a football.

Cloaking is a god sent gift that spared me so many times, I pray the brutes never develop thermal vision or the braincells to employ technology that uses it.

Mordin's death hit hard man, it was so right tho. It felt like it was meant to be, I wouldn't have cared for a random salarian. But Mordin? Oh no.

The fact he sings the model of a salarian scientist during it is the knife twisting in the back after the stab.

It's so clear he is doing it to calm himself down, to not mess this up.

It's a reminder of how much he has given to science, his whole life, identity and hobbies. His music, youth and great mind. So many of his beloved students too.

And he dies correcting the mistakes of superiors playing politics who let fear cloud their judgement.

Wrex calls Shepard his sister in it, Wrex has not hit on me once, I am unbelievably thankful for his writers and so overjoyed with this lovely platonic relationship between them.

Because yes they do feel like siblings!

Still, ME1 Wrex now feels like a different person in comparison to ME3 and I am not talking about believes.

I mean he used to be less open with us, less animated and more shut on himself and brooding. Now he laughs, makes jokes and gets excited, I'm really happy for him! It's like he found his true purpose and passion in life.

Kaidan

I forgot how sappy and adorable he is, when sorrounded by badass characters with edges so sharp it could cut a paper, you get so used to them and someone awkward like Kaidan easily stands out.

He's unsure, confused and just so very human. He's still trying to do the right thing while looking at Shepard for guidance. The fact he doesn't think twice before refusing Hackett's offer to have his own ship just to be with us again.

I don't think Kaidan feels complete without Shepard. In his romance he is so sappy and adorable too, earnest and speaking from the heart. Since the first game he was one for romantics and rarely relied on sexy flirting but rather love confessions are more his forte.

I mean look at this man my heart

I he is just so fjkwkcbaoxjs <3333333 he is the softest person in this whole trilogy, even Tali and Liara are more jaded than him at times. But he still acts as if we were his first love, as if he is a schoolyard boy giving his crush flowers and asking their favourite color.

Femshep

You mentioned only playing as maleshep so I'm not sure how different our experiences are, so I will mention the things I think are exclusive to femshep here.

In the reconcile scene in ME3 where your ME1 romance takes you back after you romanced someone in the second game, they accuse you of cheating.

Apparently maleshep can say it isn't cheating because they broke up with you on Horizon. But femshape has to apologise for cheating??? It's very weird idk dude.

I installed a mod that just let me have the maleshep dialogue instead.

You can also hit on Joker when he asks you about EDI.

And have a full conversation on him being with you instead.

He rejects you and says he's not Kaidan (ouch) and doesn't date crew, he will follow you into hell but not into your quarters.

EDI doesn't wear a uniform so he feels okay dating her.

Can you hit on EDI as maleshep?

Talking about EDI, it's making me really uncomfortable how openly the game is being inappropriate about her. I get she has a hot body and that's perfectly okay, but why does every other person feel the need to comment on it and sexualise her? Like she's an object or something.

ME1 had this problem with femshep where antagonists would hit on you to show them being trashy or whatever and the paragon option is to swallow it down and keep talking while the renegade option is to call them out on it.

And in ME2, someone calls you a stripper, and a turian npc asks about your boobs.

I thought they fixed it in ME3, and true, so far, femshep doesn't get these weird comments.

But instead everything was turned on EDI and the game keeps bringing it up and it's just gross my dude. At least Shepard could tell them to fuck off but EDI can't.

James Vega is a character I really like! I loved his bro relationship with Shepard so much. Even as femshep he still says "hey man" or things like that.

But it is weird when he hits on you out of the blue without any prior interest indications. I envy the platonic bro relationship he has with maleshep, really wish femshep could have the same one.

He isn't even a romantic interest, you don't flirt with him or anything. He just hits on you sometimes. Because. Woman. Ig.

Eve opens up to you more as femshep, that was nice and made me feel better. She is one of my favs too, I love everything about her.

Thane

The Thane romance broke me oh my god.

He calls you Siha when he warns you about the citidal attack. In his romanced ending, his last ever act before dying is to literally pray for you, not for himself but for you. For his goddess to forgive you and grant you eternal love and peace, his son even joins him.

He says your heart is pure despite all, that's the goddess should keep you by her side and make you a companion to her much like you were to Thane. The moment is so touching and genuinely emotional I actually cried.

The voice actor for femshep is phenomenal in this too. You get used to Shepard's harsh and commander voice tones and suddenly it's all soft and quiet, whispery and on the blink of tears and it literally cracks your heart open and makes you realise how this big strong commander is crumbling watching the love of her life die in front of her.

And the dress looks so out of theme i know but the context to it just makes the scene even more sad.

I didn't know the citidal mission would start, I didn't know about any of this when I finished tuchanka. I just picked the prettiest red dress I could find because I was excited to see Thane again and wondering if he'll kiss Shepard again because he mentions he can't do it much bc of his sickness and would need some rest so I assume a mission or two will reset it.

So in my mind, I'm getting ready for this cute date with Thane, dolling my Shepard and all excited and happy walking to the citidal. Thinking about him and looking forward to his dialogue and make I'll take some pics with him in this pretty outfit.

But it's...he doesn't get to see it. He doesn't get to see Shepard in her pretty dress that she wore for him because she had to change into armour for the mission. Then he gets stabbed and you can't even stay by his side after he saved you from an assassin.

Btw that assassin scene was so fucking cool, it's easy to forget how badass Thane is and how deadly he can be even while dying.

By the time it's all over, Shepard had to go see him in the same red dress for their date because If I went to the Normady to change he would've already died. There is no time. This outfit that was supposed to celebrate their love has become the dress for his funeral instead, the date on his deathbed and it's squeezing my heart painfully.

Like that is the oufit of someone who thought they had more time, of someone who didn't realise how close tragedy came by.

#☆Thane

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chutefullofholes · 10 months ago

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how does micha react initially when he notices Wyatt being more sexual? He’s young, and i imagine he would be freaked out, not on purpose or because he believes Wyatt is doing anything bad. But I can imagine how shocking and maybe ‘weird’ (idk how else to put it) it would be for him. Knowing his bf just went through something so terrible, and like most people, isn’t necessarily aware of how sexual trauma can result in hyper sexuality. Does he regret Wyatt’s advances in a stern manner that maybe upsets him? I can imagine Wyatt breaking down ‘why don’t you want me’?? Micha is just so out of his depth (Idk if what I’m saying makes any sense sorry lol I just love this au)

“micah is just so out of his depth” yeah. that’s the crux of it. more below the read more line.

micah is out his depth like you said- and also a good few years younger than wyatt which doesn’t help either. i wouldn’t say he’s ever scared of him. and a lot of wyatt’s shit is internal to the extent that micah doesn’t really know things are as wrong as they are till it becomes less internal with wyatt getting upset about micah thinking they shouldn’t be having sex again yet. wyatt is never aggressive or truly forceful about it, he just gets upset. tries not to cry- ends up crying anyways and gets worked up talking really fast telling him he’s so wired and just wants it to go away and doesn’t know how else to make it.

he does get stern with wyatt at times. which is when the fights get bad because he’s so out his depth and doesn’t exactly. navigate being stern well. wyatt starts talking to him less bc he thinks he hates him- starts seeking out bucky for support more and. wy/micah have a hugeee blow out fight bc micah is like “you’ve been avoiding me because i don’t think we should have sex yet and now you’re trying to steal my dad.” doesn’t necessarily mean it like that but that’s how wyatt takes it. (and he’d rather die than tell micah this but a part of it is him lashing out because he’s started feeling attached to bucky in a way that makes him feel a sick with shame. not bucky’s fault or wyatt’s fault. he just needs better, different help and needs space from wyoming).

big fight that the bucks have to intervene with and that’s the trigger for gale calling ev to tell him this is. not working anymore and wyatt needs to come home.

#gonna start trigger tagging these too just to be safe #tw sa mention #tw hypersexual #young vets au #wyatt nash #micah egan #wyatt x micah

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hautevaux · 1 year ago

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@sephaeroth asked: 🕯️ MEME: send me 🕯️to hear my character’s inner thoughts about your character.

Thoughts. It is ultimately not often that Vaux allows himself the time to sink into their expanse, to contemplate or ruminate, to brood or to bask. His fatigued mind is usually far too strained on thoughts of threads and materials, deadlines and trends to slink toward other subjects, but sometimes he avoids it simply because he fears what dark recess he will slink down, what would come to trigger nightmares next, what would leave him feeling bereft of air and emotional.

That eve, however, is different. He's soaking in his bath, eyes blandly looking out of large windows to observe the glow of the city, the night time late and yet stars were not visible through thickening cloud. Thoughts wander, the question of what one was thankful for recalled - an exercise, apparently, in asking ones self to to boost spirits, but it has never been so easy for Vaux to relate those questions to himself.

So he think - and he thinks - briefly and blandly of all of the people he has met and whether or not he is glad to have done so and ultimately very few names ring true.

Sephiroth is the name he lingers upon, the choice an easy one for it is based not only from a business point of view, there bares something more organic in his hum of further contemplation.

Initially, he had thought the other as precisely what all of the news articles or interviews portrayed him as. A hero, a strong and sensational individual who had their safety and greatest interests at heart - but, over the course of their getting to know one another through fittings and design sessions, Vaux had begun to see more than what ShinRa plastered everywhere: hints at a person beneath it.

The heroic air still stood, but the gentleness of eye contact and the sensitivity to ones surroundings and the emotions of those he kept company with had been unexpected. It was, at times, almost difficult for Vaux to remember that the fellow in his company was one well versed in conflict and not simply some perfect gentleman.

Always was there an intriguing air about Sephiroth, one that Vaux had always wanted to dive deeper into, pry open those cracks of the person he was beneath ShinRa 's propaganda. Those hints he had tasted, of avoiding his own security details, of talking to the tailor about near nothing into the late hours of the night to simply avoid something else, to aid him when the tailor grew too overwhelmed... He wanted to know more of that Sephiroth.

Was the hero, while factually accurate, also an outward persona, much like the one Vaux had constructed for himself? Was there something he didn't like about ShinRa, was that why he wanted to avoid them sometimes? Was there far more than met the eye? Vaux was sure of it, and the more he thought on the subject the more he felt compelled to dive further.

Vaux wanted to reach out, to try and offer an ear, company, a companionship that meant he would always give support and be there should he be needed, regardless of hour or day - - but he was also very cautious about stepping out of line, of breaking the fragile trust already in place.

He did worry for Sephiroth at times - wasn't it all too much for him? Didn't he need more rest and recuperation than he was getting? The more Vaux thought about it, the more it twisted his stomach into a knot.

#I'm Going to Change the World One Sequin at a Time || Vaux's Replies ||

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wolfjackle-creates · 2 years ago

Text

Carry On Chapter 2

AO3 Link (locked to logged in users)

Chapter 1

Story Summary:

After the garden, the First Family has to find their way in the wider, more dangerous world. But Heaven and Hell aren't ready to leave them alone so Crawly and Aziraphale tag along. When Cain has the idea to sacrifice the best of his harvest to God, Abel also wishes to sacrifice the best of his lambs. God chooses Her favorite and the First Family is left to pick up the pieces as best they can.

Trigger Warnings: Aftermath of sibling death, suicidal character

This chapter shows Cain coming to terms with his past and building a new life for himself.

Word Count: 6k

-----

Over the next several days, Cain continued his refusal to speak. Crawly did everything he could to make the man eat and drink and rest, but unless he was about to collapse, Cain ignored it all.

The demon only tried to play Eve’s flute once. Cain had frozen at the sound of the first note before letting out a wordless scream and sprinting away as fast as he could. Crawly had to fly to keep up.

Crawly was at his wits end. Grief of this magnitude had been unheard of in Heaven before the War and after… Well, Hell didn’t much care if a demon was traumatized or not. Certainly, no one was going to comfort another demon.

One night within the first weeks of their exile, Cain was lying flat on his back staring at the sky. He had pushed himself too far, again, and just lay where he collapsed. Crawly hissed in frustration. “I’m going to get some water. I think there’s a river nearby.”

He got no reaction and left. As he walked, he started muttering under his breath as he had taken to doing whenever Cain was out of earshot. “You are heartless. How can You look at that man and think he deserves this? He should be with his parents. They should all be comforting each other. Or better yet, You shouldn’t have allowed it to get this far to begin with. But You never could leave well enough alone. Always demanding more and better. Telling everyone that our best isn’t good enough. What has that ever gotten You? Hell and demons? Your favorite creations kicked out of the garden? Your favorite human dead? Real great job there.”

He kept the litany of blasphemy up until he came to the river where he filled all the water skins. He made his way back to his companion falling silent as he neared.

Cain was now sitting upright, facing away from Crawly. He was doing something with his arms. Hitting himself in the chest maybe? “Cain? Are you all right?”

The man was making frustrated sounds as he continued to bang at his body, and Crawly sped up.

Once he could see the man, the skins fell to the ground. “Stop! Stop! What are you doing?”

Cain was taking a stone knife and repeatedly stabbing it into his chest. Each time he did, the blade pushed in, but when he pulled it away the cuts healed, so only a small trickle of blood stain Cain’s robes.

Crawly lept forward and tackled Cain to the ground, grabbing for the knife. Cain tried to hold on, but Crawly was far stronger and not weak from hunger and exhaustion and wrestled it free. “Stop it! Stop!” he shouted as he held the knife over his head and backed away from Cain.

Cain curled in on himself, crying again. “I just want to see him again! Why should I live if he’s dead?”

“You dying won’t change anything! It’ll just make your parents grieve for a second child!” He tucked the blade into his robes, miracling it so that Cain wouldn’t be able to take it back.

Carefully, he approached Cain and sat down next to him, putting his arm around the grieving man. Cain turned and hugged Crawly tight as he continued to cry. Crawly glared at the sky. If he had still been able to heal, all of this could have been avoided.

---

The next several months were the hardest of Crawly’s existence, excluding the War and his Fall. Cain continued to try and kill himself any chance he could get. Crawly did his best to never leave Cain’s side, but the man wouldn’t get food or water unless Crawly forced it on him and often refused to even approach any food-bearing plant forcing the demon to either let him starve or leave him alone for a few minutes.

Crawly learned not to let them stop near cliffs or Cain would jump off them. They couldn’t linger near fast flowing rivers or he’d jump in and hope to be dashed against the rocks. Both of them were bruised, wet, and miserable after that incident. He tried to jump out of trees or provoke animals. Every time Crawly thought he’d tried everything, Cain would come up with something new. For the first time ever, Crawly hated someone’s imagination.

Each attempt was doomed whether Crawly was there or not, though. After all, God had cursed Cain. No one would ever be able to kill him. And that, apparently, included Cain himself. He would feel all the pain of the broken bones or bitten skin, but almost as soon as the injuries happened, they were gone.

Every day, Crawly attempted to convince Cain that Abel’s death wasn’t his fault. Every day he got more and more desperate for an end to this cycle. But he had no idea how to reach Cain and ended up just talking constantly about anything and everything he could think of. He talked about the stars and plants and how they were made. He told stories of the angels who made them. Through it all, he was lucky if Cain deigned to speak as many as half a dozen words a day.

One afternoon while Cain slept, Crawly saw a group of crows attacking a smaller songbird. Angrily, he chased off the bullies before taking the injured bird in his hands. The small thing was terrified, one eye missing and bleeding from too many wounds. She wouldn’t survive another ten minutes. He bit his lip and decided to try and see if he could figure out what was wrong with his healing powers. He was a Healer. The Healer. Certainly She couldn’t take that away from him, whatever Azrael said. He closed his eyes and sunk into his center so he could see his core. Inside him, his power presented as a bright green star, generating the powers all hellish and angelic beings has. Only it was shot through with Hellfire in a tangled mess. Before his fall, it had been mixed with Her golden grace and more beautiful than anything else he’d ever seen. But now it was scarred and burning. Still, he pulled forth a bit of power and sunk it into the bird, taking care to catalogue all her injuries. He waited until he was sure he knew exactly where the damage was and how to fix it before directing his power to heal.

Only for his hands to be cupped around a ball of flames.

He pulled back his power and the flames extinguished, but all he held were a handful of ashes that were already being blown away by the gentle breeze. He scattered the rest and miracled his hands clean before burying his face in them. He grew out his fangs and bit through his cheek to distract from the burning in his eyes. Why did Falling have to take even this from him? Why did his asking questions mean he was so unforgivable She had to steal his ability to heal?

He didn’t know how long he was sitting like that, mourning his stolen ability before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He startled and looked up to see Cain, his face worried. He forced a smile at the unspoken question and said, “I’m alright.”

Cain cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

Crawly stood up and cracked half the bones in his spine and fingers before smirking at his human companion, pushing down all the despair. He couldn’t fall apart; Cain needed him. “Did you get enough rest? Want to keep moving?” Cain nodded and their travels continued. Only now, anytime Cain was sleeping, Crawly would examine a nearby plant or blade of grass and try to heal it.

All he left behind were patches of scorched earth and ashes.

---

Eventually, over many years, Cain stopped seeking out new ways to try and kill himself. He realized it was a futile endeavor and gave up. Even more slowly, Cain started to open back up to Crawly. He was still a quiet man, but he would exchange entire sentences with the demon from time to time and Crawly allowed himself to relax his hypervigilance. He still stuck close and tried not to let Cain out of his sight for extended periods, but things were getting better.

As Cain slowly gave up, so did Crawly. He’d never touched another animal after the disaster with the bird, but he eventually stopped reaching out to damaged plants, too. Every time he reached for his power to create or heal, the Hellfire in it burned and destroyed. Nothing he did could stop it. Every night, he had to turn off his sense of smell before lighting a fire for Cain as the scent of smoke now made him sick. He dreaded the thought of getting a message from Hell requiring him to report in person. It hadn’t happened yet, thank Satan, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the sulfuric air.

God’s curse forcing Cain to wander meant they could never spend more than a few weeks in any location. If they lingered too long, Cain would grow restless and find himself walking away from camp, unable to force himself to return.

When they found themselves in a lush jungle a couple decades after beginning their journey, Crawly told Cain they were staying for a few weeks, which was the upper limit of time they could linger in a single location. The weather was delightfully warm and the amount of fruit and nut bearing plants meant Cain wouldn’t even have to try finding food.

Near their camp, a spring formed a large lake that fed into a river. When they found it the first day, Crawly initially thought they should move camp as a cliff rose out of one side of the lake, but it was barely a few handspans taller than Crawly and Cain hadn’t tried jumping off a cliff in years so he didn’t say anything.

They were nearing the spring to collect water one day when they heard an unusual sound. Both stopped immediately and Crawly asked, “What was that?”

Cain shrugged and they fell silent to see if it would repeat. Crawly even stopped breathing, a habit he’d picked up when he’d realized it made Adam and Eve uncomfortable when he didn’t.

Then they heard it again. It sounded like laughter. Human laughter. Crawly let his mouth fall open and looked over at Cain. Neither of them had seen or heard another person since the day Cain had been exiled decades ago.

Crawly’s shock turned to excitement and he grinned and started rushing forward to see who it could be when he realized Cain wasn’t following him. He turned around, brow furrowed, to see the man backing up, his face bloodless. “Cain? What’s wrong?”

“What if… what if it’s my parents? Even if it’s not, I killed Abel. Whoever it is will know the story. They’ll hate me.”

“First of all, you didn’t kill Abel; a rock did. And secondly, we don’t even have to approach them. Let’s just sneak up, spy on them through the leaves to figure out who it could be, then we can return to our camp and decide if we want to move on earlier than planned.”

Cain ignored the first part of the statement as Crawly knew he would, but he reluctantly agreed that it was a good idea to gather more information on whoever the stranger could be before jumping to conclusions.

Crawly turned his face away so his grin wouldn’t be so apparent. He couldn’t wait to see who this new person was. Anything new to their routine could only be good. It didn’t take long for them to reach the lake. On this side, the trees continued into the shallows so they were well hidden.

Before them was a young, dark-skinned woman standing naked on the edge of the cliff. She let out a loud half-scream, half-laugh and launched herself into the water, curling into a ball before she hit, sending a spray of water in all directions. She came back up a moment later laughing at the sky in pure joy. Crawly hadn’t seen anyone that carefree in a long time. He turned to Cain with a grin to brag about how he was right that the person was harmless.

Cain was staring straight ahead, mouth open, cheeks flushed. Crawly hissed in amusement and put his arm around the man’s shoulders, startling him. “C’mon,” he said under his breath, “We should give her some privacy.”

Cain flushed even more and nodded, looking away. He backed up and immediately tripped over a tree root and crashed to the ground, cursing.

“Who’s there?” demanded the woman from the lake.

Crawly threw his head back and laughed. He made his way to the lake edge and tried to wave through the trees. “Sorry to disturb you! We just weren’t expecting anyone and heard you and had to see who was near!”

“I’ll repeat, who are you?” she shouted back.

“No one important!”

Cain hissed at him, “Shut up! We don’t want her to know who I am!”

Crawly rolled his eyes, and in a quieter voice directed just at Cain, said, “She already knows we’re here. Trying to hide won’t do us any good.”

The mystery girl shouted back, “Stay there, please! I’m looking for someone and you’re the first person I’ve met since I left home!” She turned and started swimming to the shore opposite Crawly.

Cain got up and tried to run away, but Crawly grabbed his arm. “Look, Cain. You’ve been alone except for me for far too many years. You need to be around another human again. So stay still and see what happens. I won’t share your name if you don’t want me to, but you need this.”

Cain tried to pull free. “No! She’ll hate me! She looks so happy and innocent! I’ll just corrupt her.”

“Ok, now you’re just having me on. I’m the demon here. If anyone’s going to corrupt her, it’s me. You’re staying here and we are both going to meet her!”

They were still arguing several minutes later when they were interrupted by the woman clearing her throat. “Sorry to interrupt.” She was standing before them in bright orange robes that contrasted well with her skin. On her back sat a large pack.

Crawly smiled at her. “No, please do interrupt. He’s being stupid. Can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you…?”

“Your eyes! You’re a demon, aren’t you?” she asked with wide eyes as she took an instinctive step back.

Cain groaned and buried his head in his free hand.

Crawly’s smile turned into a smirk to hide his sudden nervousness. He should’ve realized she’d recognize what he was from his eyes. He might have been too eager for this meeting after all. “Does that scare you?”

She stared intently, eyes narrowed. “Aziraphale says we need to be wary of demons because they’ll try and lead us astray.” But then she broke out in a wide smile that seemed much more natural on her face, “But Adam and Eve speak highly of the yellow-eyed snake who sometimes pretends to be human.”

“Ugh, Aziraphale always has to toe the party line.” He had no idea how to respond to the comment about Adam and Eve.

Her smile grew even wider. “That means you must be Crawly!” She turned to Cain. “And you must be Cain. I’ve been looking for you.”

Cain tried to back up, but couldn’t break free from Crawly’s grip.

The woman slapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, no! It’s nothing bad! I promise! I just… Adam and Eve talked about you a lot. And I always felt so bad that you were out here all alone! I’ve wanted to come and find you ever since I was a little girl so I could be your friend.” She was actually bouncing on her feet in excitement.

Cain was frozen, mouth opening and closing. Crawly laughed and let go of his arm; the man was too shocked to move. “Didn’t I tell you we should meet her?” Back to the girl, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Awan. I’m so glad I finally found you! This is a lovely place. How long have you been here?”

Crawly and Awan kept the conversation going as they made their way back to camp. Cain followed behind, silent. Awan was a lively person and commented on everything they passed, asking about every plant and animal and insect. Crawly was delighted to have someone around who actually spoke back for once and answered all her questions, spending extra time on the things he’d had a hand in creating. He was having so much fun just talking to someone for once that he was disappointed when they reached their campsite.

“So, Awan,” said Crawly, “Are you hungry? We’ve got enough provisions to share.”

Before she could even respond, Cain was already digging through his supplies and pulling out a large selection.

She grinned. “I don’t know if I’ve ever even seen half of these foods! Are you sure there’s enough? I’d love to try them, but don’t put yourself out. I’ll be sticking around for a while so there’ll be another chance.”

“There’s enough,” said Cain, giving her the quickest of glances before continuing to set out a feast.

Awan wasn’t put off by his terseness and kneeled next to Cain to Crawly’s amusement. She pointed to a star fruit. “What’s this and what does it taste like?”

“Oh, um, that’s a- a star fruit.” Cain took out an obsidian knife and sliced it, handing her a piece. He blushed when their fingers brushed.

She grinned at him as she took a bite and her eyes widened and she groaned in pleasure. “This is amazing! Do you eat these every day? Because I’ve never had anything nearly so wonderful before. I’ll never get tired of it. Not even if I eat it every day for the rest of my life.”

Cain blushed harder and arranged a large selection of food on a stone slab that he presented to her. “Fire!” he cried, causing her to take an alarmed step back and look around for the danger. Crawly had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “Er, I mean, we can light a fire. And sit by it. Comfortable…?”

Crawly let himself grin openly. This was the best thing he’d seen in his entire existence. Not even Gabriel was this awkward. He snapped his fingers and a small fire was burning merrily in the center of their camp. Two logs were already set up there for seats, but a second snap had a third appearing.

Awan bounced on her feet. “Oh, now that is useful! Aziraphale hardly ever uses his powers so openly. Says it’s better if we learn how to take care of ourselves.” She sat down on one of the logs and dug into her food, trying a little bit of each selection to decide which were her favorites.

She asked questions about the food, which Cain tried to stumble through answers for. Too many times, he turned to Crawly for help with answers, but the demon refused to do more than give the name and growing season of the plants. Cain sent many glares his way, but Crawly didn’t care. If the man took too long to answer one of Awan’s questions, he kicked him to prompt him to speak. Cain’s dark blush didn’t abate once throughout the meal.

Crawly hadn’t heard him speak so much in one sitting since Abel’s death, nor had he seen him so animated.

---

Crawly quickly realized that Awan was the best thing that could have happened to their little group. She’d been with them only a week before Crawly saw Cain smile with genuine happiness. Less than half a year passed before she drew a laugh from him.

Each moment of happiness and joy helped loosen something that had curled up tight inside Crawly. He hadn’t even realized how tense he had been until it began to loosen. Each smile and laugh and peaceful moment caused him to relax just that much more.

He wasn’t surprised when, a year after she had joined them, Awan and Cain approached him asking to be married.

“Marriage is a bit too holy an endeavor for a demon to preside. But with no one else around, I’m sure you could marry yourselves. She has to understand there was no other option.”

Awan shook her head. “No. We want you to do it. If that mean’s our marriage isn’t accepted by God, then so be it. You’ve done so much for both of us, especially Cain. We wouldn’t feel right getting married without you.” Cain nodded his agreement to his fiancée’s assertion.

Crawly suddenly found it impossible to speak or even breathe and settled for staring at them while he opened and closed his mouth ineffectually. Finally, he made some sort of sound that they correctly took as agreement.

Awan smiled broadly and even Cain flashed his teeth briefly. It took Crawly a minute to realize he was smiling too, their happiness infectious.

He insisted the couple give him a week to make all the preparations he wanted. They were in another forest, this one temperate and quite different from the jungle they’d met in. Crawly decided they were going to hold the ceremony at the base of a waterfall – he was no longer afraid to linger near cliffs or waterfalls – and he arranged some flowering vines to hang from all the trees around the clearing at the water’s edge.

He was also trying to locate gemstones and other shiny rocks as a gift to Awan. The morning of the ceremony, he presented a few gifts to the couple.

“I thought you both might appreciate something new to wear, so I made these for you.” He handed over two robes. Awan’s was made of gold cloth with blue embellishments depicting animals and plants. Cain’s reversed the color scheme and showed the cosmos. He no longer enjoyed seeing the plants he could no longer cultivate.

Both were effusive in their gratitude, but Crawly waved off their thanks, embarrassed by the display of affection. Demon’s weren’t supposed to get thanked. But they weren’t supposed to give gifts, either. Or marry people. Still, he’d sent a report off to Hell to tell them how he had tempted the First Murderer into Unholy Matrimony, presided over by a demon. The satisfied reply from Beelzebub made him hopeful that no one would actually look into how this “unholy matrimony” deal would go down. It was rather too close to holy matrimony and if Hell saw it, they might question what he was really doing on Earth. And if it came out that he was less involved in the whole First Murderer business than previously assumed, they might recall him.

Crawly shook his head to clear his thoughts. Today was a happy day and Hell would leave him alone just like they had for the last few decades. “Now, Cain. I’m going to borrow Awan for an hour or two. Why don’t you get dressed and meet us by the waterfall? You’ll know the spot when you get there.” After he’d started decorating, he hadn’t let either human approach the area. He wanted it to be a surprise.

“More surprises? Haven’t you done enough?” asked Cain

“Shush, you. Shoo,” ordered Crawly. Cain laughed and the sound still managed to fill Crawly with warmth. Then he was alone with the bride. “Now, Awan, I’ve gathered some small, white flowers. I thought I could braid them into your hair? And I have some gemstones that I could tie to the ends of the braids.”

She rushed forward and hugged him tightly. “That sounds absolutely gorgeous! Thank you! Won’t Cain be so surprised when he sees me?”

Crawly laughed. “That’s the plan. Now, change your robes first. It’ll be easier if we do your hair after.”

Awan’s excitement over her upcoming wedding kept her talking the entire time Crawly was working on her hair with very little input from him. He may have used a demonic miracle or three to speed up the braiding process, but the end result was stunning. And before too long, they were on their way to meet the groom.

Crawly was pleased when Awan let out a gasp as they walked into the clearing at the waterfall’s edge and she saw the trees hung with flowers and Cain standing on the pool's edge skipping rocks. “Oh, this is beautiful. Thank you so much, Crawly! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

At her voice, Cain dropped the remaining rocks he held and spun around only to freeze upon seeing her. His mouth fell open and he stared.

The reactions of the couple resonated with every ounce of demonic pride Crawly held in his core and he couldn’t help the pleased smile that pulled on his lips. He wasted no more time and directed the two to the place he wanted them to stand.

“Now, clasp hands.” He waited until they’d done so before continuing. “Though this life you have faced many trials and hardships. And you will continue to face many more. During all the days of your lives, you must support and love each other. Keep each other safe. When one of you stumbles, the other should help them along until they can walk once more on their own. When one falls ill, the other must care for them until they are healed. Protect each other. Love each other. And may your lives together have more happy days than sad ones. Cain, do you so swear?”

“I do. Awan, you are light and happiness and I will do all I can to make sure you can always shine so brightly.”

Crawly didn’t comment on the tears gathering in both their eyes. “Awan, do you so swear?”

“I do. Cain, you spent so many years wandering alone but for Crawly. I intend to stay by your side for the rest of your life so you never have to be alone again. I will stay with you and hold you tight. I will remind you of the beauty of the world we live on every day. And I will love and care for you with my every breath.”

If either bride or groom thought it inappropriate that Crawly made no mention of God or Satan or Heaven or Hell, they didn’t say so. And by the looks on their faces, they didn’t consider anything missing from the ritual.

He had them tie the threads of their lives together and drink wine from a chalice. He gave them instruction and advice and made them promise to uphold their vows to each other again.

Then finally, Crawly allowed them to kiss each other. He allowed the kiss to continue for some time but interrupted when he began to doubt they’d ever stop. “I know you are both excited, but I have one more gift for you. Then I’ll disappear for a few days and you can have your privacy.”

“More?” asked Cain. “But you’ve already done so much.”

“When we asked you to marry us, we didn’t expect you to go so far out of your way! This is lovely, all of it, and we’re so grateful, but you must know we didn’t need or expect any of it! Let alone more than this!”

Crawly waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I know. But Cain and I had so little to celebrate before you joined us. I wanted to go all out. Now, follow me.”

This final gift had been the most time consuming for Crawly to get. It had involved innumerable trips to Hell so he could pop up in places all over the globe. He led the couple through the hanging vines to a clearing where a large cloth laden with foods that neither human had ever seen before. He had gone to every corner of the globe and brought back fruits and vegetables and nuts and more. Each one new to the couple. Anything that had to be prepared was cooked, the rest cut and ready to be eaten.

Awan rushed forward with a cry of delight. “What is all this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of these before!” Cain was barely a step behind her and looked back at Crawly with the same question apparent in every line of his face.

“You wouldn’t have. They’re from farther away than you could walk in a lifetime. But everything is safe to eat. Pick out whatever looks best and I’ll tell you about it.” Between bites of food, the newlyweds would exchange kisses. Crawly let himself get caught up in the happiness. And once the kisses started getting longer and the eating less frequent, he left them to it.

---

It was only a few months after the wedding when they came to Crawly to tell him of Awan’s pregnancy. He celebrated with the couple and sat them both down to explain everything Awan could expect from the situation. Eve had spoken to her when she was younger as well, but Crawly knew the technicalities from his days in the Creation halls.

As they wandered, Cain realized he didn’t want to subject his child to the same wandering life he and Awan shared and decided he would build a permanent settlement Awan and the child could live at. He was especially worried about what would happen towards the end of the pregnancy when Awan wouldn’t be able to move easily.

It didn’t take long to find a suitable location near a river with plenty of fertile ground that would be suitable for planting. Crawly helped Cain build a home for his wife and child. Using miracles to create was always a risky business, but Crawly found loopholes. He could compress the dirt or stones, transforming them into something strong and sturdy. He could snap a hole into existence to anchor the walls. He could break rocks into usable bricks. Creativity was never his problem. And so the building progressed quickly.

It was, however, slowed by Cain’s curse. He could only linger and build for a few weeks before he was forced to leave once again. He quickly set on a schedule where he’d stay for three weeks, leave for a week, and return. At the start of her pregnancy, Awan was more than happy to join him. But as she got larger, she couldn’t handle the travel. Crawly, at Cain’s insistence, stayed behind with her.

All three were relieved when Cain was around the day Awan went into labor. Crawly helped her through and after many hours was happy to hand the healthy baby boy to his relieved parents.

The smile that overtook Cain’s face the moment he held his son finally allowed Crawly to let go of the last of the tension he’d been holding onto since he’d been unable to heal Abel. Cain looked up at Crawly, crying and smiling. “He’s perfect.”

The next thing Crawly knew, the impossibly small baby was being pushed into his arms by the happy father. “No, I couldn’t, I don’t…” but his protestations were ignored and he soon had the small creature bundled in his arms. “Hey there, squirt,” he said, bending his head over the baby. He reached out a trembling hand to rub the soft skin of his belly. He only held him a few minutes until the infant started squirming and the boy was returned to his exhausted mother.

After mother and baby were sleeping, Cain and Crawly went outside to let Awan rest. Cain, looking at the night sky rather than Crawly, said, “We haven’t agreed on a name yet. I keep going back to Abel. Feels like it’s only right I name my son after my brother.”

Crawly hummed. “What does Awan think of that plan?”

“She doesn’t like it. She understands why I want to but doesn’t agree.”

“Why do you want to give him your brother’s name?”

“Abel’s dead. Shouldn’t I honor his memory?”

“Look, if you name your son after your brother, he’ll have to live up to that memory. Every time you look at him, every time you call for him, you’ll think of your brother and what happened that day. Is that really a legacy you want your son to have to live under? Shouldn’t he have the chance to learn who he is without the memory of his uncle hanging over his every action? I get that you want to do something for your brother. Build a memorial or something. But I wouldn’t recommend pulling your son into it.”

Cain hummed as he looked up at the stars, thinking. He didn’t say anything else as he walked inside to join his sleeping wife. Crawly kept watch outside the rest of the night.

The next morning, Cain came out holding his son. “Morning, Crawly. This is Enoch.”

Crawly grinned and walked over. “Good name.”

Cain smiled at the baby, “Yeah. We like it. Come inside. Awan’s still tired and hurts too much to want to move from bed.”

Crawly smiled at Awan who was glaring at the blankets of her sleeping pallet. “I hate being laid up like this. When will I start to feel better?”

“Want me to look you over? I might be able to make a cream or give you some herbs to make you feel better.”

“Yes! Please! I’ll do anything,” begged Awan.

Crawly chuckled and examined her for any signs there might be a problem. Nothing seemed out of place, however, and he mixed up an herbal tea to help with her pain.

The rest of the day was spent with Cain and Crawly alternately taking care of Enoch and Awan. The humans and demon chatted cheerfully and took things as easy as they could.

Around dusk, Cain was slowly rocking Enoch, shushing him and trying to get him to fall asleep. He bit his lip, and still looking at his son, asked tentatively. “Crawly?”

“Hmm?” answered the demon, he was comfortably ensconced in a pile of blankets and didn’t want to move unless he had to. It’d been a rough couple of days and he knew it wasn’t about to get any easier with a newborn around.

“Do you- Do you still have my m-mother’s flute?”

Crawly choked on air as he bolted upright. “What?”

“Her flute.” Cain was facing away from Crawly and showed no signs of turning around. “I remember she gave it to you. Do you still have it? Enoch should know some of the songs his grandmother used to play. Even if he’ll never meet her.”

Crawly swallowed hard and didn’t answer, but reached into his robes. He’d hidden the flute away in a pocket decades ago and kept it on him ever since. Eve had been his friend, too, and he treasured the gift. It was the first one he’d ever been given. Angels didn’t need things, so gifts didn’t exist in Heaven. And they certainly didn’t exist in Hell. He lifted it to his lips, but hesitated. Cain hadn’t reacted well last time he’d tried to play. He peered at the man through narrowed eyes. His shoulders were tense. He pulled the flute away a few inches. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

And Crawly played a soft, mournful piece. Awan smiled from her pallet and slowly Cain’s shoulders relaxed. He turned around and Crawly realized he was crying. In his arms, Enoch slowly settled into sleep.

#good omens #fanfic #my writing #crowley #cain (good omens)#its not happily every after #but they find love and contentment #not the life they would've chosen #but one they can enjoy anyway

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