#if we can't let him have the bridge which to be clear has become very meaningful and vital to me then we're diminishing any peace he found | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lire-casander · 2 years

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chapter #9 — bridge

Three days after unceremoniously slamming the door of Carlos’ apartment, TK welcomes Jonah back from school while doing some yoga for his nerves. It’s been a pattern for the past seventy hours or so — when he’s not fighting to fall asleep, he’s trying something to appease his soul.

He still thinks he’s in the right here; after all, Carlos didn’t seem to want to introduce him to his parents anytime soon. But TK is also aware that Carlos has been on edge because of the whole school ordeal, and that there’s been something else nagging at him if the way he’s been acting lately is any indication. TK knows he was right when he pointed out how Carlos made him feel during the whole interaction with his mother; he also knows that he wasn’t in a good place himself to start with, and that if he’d thought a little before speaking, maybe this whole argument could have been avoided.

"T," Jonah says as he drops his backpack on the floor, which looks like a war zone. When he’s down, TK becomes a slob — a few magazines, the remote, and even a sock covering the floor. He hasn't allowed anyone to clean the apartment because he doesn't think he deserves to have nice things. "TK, the principal has sent a letter to—parents." He bites his lip. "I guess that's you, now."

"It's me," TK says softly. He leaves the yoga mat and wipes his sweaty hands on a towel he promptly chucks to the floor. He cringes when he sees the mess; maybe he needs to stop self-pitying and start working on himself. "What's the matter?"

"Everyone says that the school’s closing," Jonah explains as he searches for an envelope in his backpack. He makes a triumphant noise when he grabs it. "Can they close the school? Weren't you working to save it?"

"Let me read it," TK tries to calm his brother. Jonah certainly doesn't need any more changes. He opens the envelope where a neatly written Jonah Zimmer glares at him. The letter is simple; one sheet of paper printed with black letters, containing a tidy line with the place and date and a short paragraph explaining that the Board has decided to shut the school given the insurmountable financial problems that it had been facing.

He realizes three things at once.

One, Carlos had lost his job. Given the timeframe and the fact that the teachers were probably informed a few days before the students to prepare for the onslaught of questions from parents, there was a high chance that it had happened the very same day of their fight.

Two, TK hadn’t even bothered to ask how he was doing, even though he was aware of the delicate situation Carlos was in. Maybe it would’ve explained why Carlos had reacted so poorly in the face of suddenly seeing his parents confronted with TK. Maybe it had just been too much all in one day.

And three, he needs to find a new school for Jonah.

"Shit."

"Is this because you broke up with Mr. Reyes?" Jonah asks innocently. "TK? What are we going to do? It's my school!"

TK shakes his head. He sets the letter aside, along with all his troubled thoughts, andopens his arms. Jonah falls into the embrace, burying his face in TK’s chest. He hugs his little brother tight, trying to come up with the right words to say. None come to mind. Not for the first time, he thinks how unsuited he is to take care of a child on his own; he isn't cut out to comfort Jonah when he himself is still figuring out how to navigate life. But this is the hand they've been dealt — it's just Jonah and TK now, since Enzo didn't have any family left, and TK can't really count on his own father, living in a city over two thousand miles away from them.

"I'll talk to the school’s principal," he says in what he hopes is a reassuring voice, even though he knows it will be pointless. The letter is clear in its finality. "We'll see what we can do," he still promises his little brother.

"If you go there, will you see Mr. Reyes?" Jonah asks hopefully. "You can kiss and make up."

TK's hands travel from Jonah’s shoulders down his arms as he moves his brother a little away from himself. The lack of warmth hits him almost instantly, but he needs to see Jonah’s face when he says his next words.

This has been a constant these past few days. Jonah would ask about Carlos in that naïve way of his, as though life was a fairy tale with a happy ending, and TK would have to reply that they're not actually on speaking terms. It's hard to explain to an eleven-year-old that they broke up over a petty fight that TK should have stopped before it escalated; he can't really imagine how it feels to Jonah, as he has to attend Carlos’ class every day from Monday to Friday, and Math Club twice a week. TK has barely refrained from asking his brother about how Carlos is doing, but, if Carlos is feeling half as bad as TK himself, then TK can tell it’s not looking pretty.

"Carlos and I, we're not—"

"I know you're upset with each other," Jonah cuts him off. "But can't you—"

"This is an adult issue."

He knows his voice sounds tired and snappy, but he has honestly reached the point where he simply can’t do this anymore. It's been three days of Jonah trying to convince him that they can fix what he broke. He's aware of how messed up the situation with Carlos is right now; he knows he had every reason to walk away, but TK didn't let Carlos explain himself. He simply accused the person he's fallen in love with of wanting to shove them right back into the closet, and he stomped away without even looking back. These past three days, there hasn't been a single message from Carlos; not a text apologizing or begging for him to come back. Selfishly, TK wants Carlos to say fuck everything and choose him over his parents, over his shitty job situation. He knows there must be something else, something he isn't getting; something hidden behind those hurtful words Carlos had basically cried out.

I just don’t want to rub their noses in it.

Whatever the hell that meant, it slayed TK’s heart. But, given the perspective of seventy-four hours, twenty-seven minutes and a few seconds of distance — not that he's counting or anything — TK’s adamant to say that he might have had to stay put and demand Carlos to explain instead of assuming and leaving. It broke his heart; he can only imagine how Carlos has been doing.

"You won't be able to use that excuse forever," comes Judd’s voice from the doorway to the bedrooms. He startles TK and makes Jonah giggle at the motion. "At some point, you'll have to give him a proper explanation."

"Yeah!" Jonah almost hollers.

"Maybe," TK concedes. "But today's not that day. Go on, get changed and wash your hands before doing your homework." He watches as his brother grumpily grabs his backpack once again and follows his instructions. Jonah slides past Judd, who pats him affectionately on the shoulder. Once he's left alone with just Judd, he huffs. "Stop undermining my authority."

"I'm not," Judd says in a warm voice, stepping further into the living room. "I'm just pointing out what's evident. The adult issue excuse won't hold much longer. Not how the kid's been coming from school. I know you don't want to hear about it, but Jonah keeps telling Paul, Marjan and I just how sad Carlos looks. I bet his face is similar to yours."

TK shakes his head. He gets up and begins rolling his yoga mat up to have something to keep himself busy with. "Did you know the school's officially closing?" He aims for a change of subject. If Judd catches on the uncertainty with which he speaks, he doesn't say anything.

"Yeah. Grace told me. Tommy's fuming."

TK sighs and points at the letter that's now lying on the floor. "Jonah came back home today with that. I thought we had more time."

"What will happen with the fundraiser?" Judd questions. “It’s pointless to donate the money to the school now that it’s officially closing.”

TK shrugs. There are a few other charities he could work with, but he’s grown attached to this particular project; he believes it’s due to the emotional attachment he’s developed because of Jonah and Carlos. So instead of raking his brain to find another solution, he goes for his usual one.

"I’ll donate to my mother's charity," he mumbles. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Marjan has a very different idea when he relays the situation to his team the following day. She takes a chart out of the bag and explains to him that Alex of all people has decided to donate to his mom's charity. "It's not that you can't," she states. "It's all about the message we'd be sending. Like, you two are back to being in sync."

"We definitely don't want that," TK says with a shudder. "I still don't want to see him."

"I know," Marjan coos him. "But it will only be for a song that Paul managed to get you out of rehearsing. We've asked for separate rooms, as far from each other as possible. It's been granted."

"How did you manage that?"

"Managed what?" Marjan questions, feigning innocence. She inspects her nails as a winning smile creeps up her face. "I'm charming."

"And scary," Paul adds, earning himself a swat from Marjan. TK notices the way he blushes, subtle but present, and files the information for another day. "I think it would be good to stick to our original plan and donate the money to a charity that provides education."

"Have we done some research on that?" Marjan continues, her voice back to being professional. "I can do a few searches, call a couple of friends and—"

"Grace's thought of a charity that might be interesting," Judd pipes in. "She's been, uh, researching."

"Well, spit it," Marjan urges impatiently. "We don't have all day."

"The Enzo Zimmer Charity for Universal Education," Judd says proudly, leaving them all agape. When nobody reacts, he chuckles. "We're not married to the name, though."

TK stares at his friend for a moment, speechless. He would be lying if he'd said he hadn't thought of honoring Enzo’s memory by creating something that might help people in the way Enzo used to help. But hearing it from Judd’s lips, as an idea that's been brought up by Grace, warms TK’s soul.

"It's—it's a wonderful idea," he stutters. "It may need some work, mainly on the license front and everything but—"

"On it!" Marjan exclaims, swiping furiously on her tablet. "I'll make sure the charity is set up and ready to go by the time the fundraiser takes place."

True to her word, Marjan offers him the last of the papers to sign for the charity when he's stepping out of the car at Madison Square Garden where the fundraiser is taking place. He scribbles his name with a flourish and draws the signature he's perfected over the years at the bottom of the last page presented to him, smiling as Marjan closes the clipboard with a clap.

"We're all set," she announces before Paul takes over, placing a hand on the small of TK's back and guiding him inside. "All you have to do is announce the name when you're given your cheque."

TK steps into the dressing room that has been assigned to him and takes in the decoration and the space, enjoying the brief moments of solitude before the show begins. He knows Jonah is with Grace somewhere in the audience; the label doesn’t want anyone in the wings this time. And, while Judd is guarding his door, and Paul and Marjan are doing what they do best and mingling with other managers and social media gurus, TK decides to spend the time he's got left before the beginning of the show by getting ready.

He sets his bag on top of the table beneath a big mirror at the far end of the room. He takes out the different makeup bottles and packages and sorts them out in front of the mirror. He eyes them critically before picking a brush and choosing a couple of foundation tubes.

He's been doing his own makeup since forever, since before his life changed when he met Alex. Even when everyone had wanted him to drop old habits and start acting like the diva he was supposed to be, he'd remained true to himself. However, once Alex's presence in his life became a fixture, TK had begun to give in to small details that he had sworn he would never do. Like letting someone else do his makeup. It had all blown up into his face when, in the early days of their relationship, he had been a guest at a Jesse Corbett show. During the show, Jesse Corbett had insulted him in every possible way without actually saying any offensive word, and in TK’s mind, not being in charge of every little detail such as makeup became forever tied to being humiliated in front of millions of viewers.

TK hadn’t realized until recently what an empty life he had been leading while dating Alex, drifting from one show to the other, from one hotel room to the next, everything planned and accounted for. Everything had been controlled by Alex himself.

And now here he is, alone and lonely in the way Alex had foreshadowed during one of their early fights — when he'd told TK that nobody would ever love him the way Alex did, and how he'd end up on his own if he ever dared to break up with Alex. He bites down a bitter laugh; no matter how right he was in throwing Alex out of his life, the final result is the same.

TK doesn't even have anyone to fall back on; his father is living in Austin, his mother's a memory from a distant past and Enzo is gone.

He places his hands on top of the surface, frowning. He leans in, putting all his weight on his wrists, before allowing himself to actually let go. The sobs wrack his body as he lets himself just feel, and everything he's bottled up inside comes out in wails and shudders.

The knock on the door startles him. When he looks up, he notices how he's ruined the makeup he'd just applied. With swift movements, he grabs a paper towel and wipes his face with it as he shouts, "Come in!"

Paul steps inside, saying, "Five minutes till you're needed onstage!" but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees TK furiously trying to fix his makeup.

"What's wrong, TK?" he asks carefully. He approaches the mirror with slow steps, as though he’s walking towards a wounded animal. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he mumbles as he reapplies the foundation. "I'm being stupid."

"I'm sure it isn't stupid," Paul insists. "Talk to me."

"It's just—" TK sighs, trying to order his thoughts before they get out of his mouth in a flood. "I'm going to end up alone, aren't I? Everyone leaves at some point."

"Or you kick them out," Paul adds. When TK glares at him, his friend only shrugs. "It won't be like this forever," he says, aiming for a softer approach. "One day, someone's going to want your voice as the soundtrack to the rest of their life."

TK huffs. He doesn't know how to convey all his feelings in one single sentence. It’s not that he's scared this will last forever; it's that he's terrified of becoming less and less himself and finally getting lost in the midst of someone else's dreams. It happened with Alex, and he luckily got out.

"I’m not scared of loving," he settles for saying. "I’m scared of losing myself all over again."

"Not this time," Paul assures him. He grabs one of TK's brushes and helps him with the makeup. "I know what you mean. When I was transitioning, I thought I'd never be able to just be myself. I learned I wasn't alone, and I know you're not alone. Maybe it feels like it, but you're not."

Together, they finish getting TK ready and they exit the room hastily right when his name's being called through the speakers. They reach the platform that will take him up to the stage, a memory of the last time TK was in a place like this one. Despite knowing that Alex no longer holds any power over him; despite knowing that he’ll only have to get through performing one song with him for no longer than three minutes , TK shivers. But he quickly shakes it off. He can do this.

He needs to.

Besides, there are other songs to be performed before he has to face Alex again.

When the platform is about to start chiming, Marjan shows up, brandishing her clipboard like it is a weapon. "Wait a second!" she cries out. "I have news!"

"Marj," Paul tries to stop her. "He's about to go live."

"It'll literally take five seconds," she pants as she catches her breath. "Remember how these other big names are performing later tonight as well?" Without waiting for any of them to reply, she continues, "Ricky Martin wants a word with you later, when you're off the stage."

"What?" both TK and Paul screech, but the platform starts moving. "Shit, I need more information!"

"I'll catch you up when you finish," Marjan smiles. "Now go and blind them!"

The platform moves him up at the same time as the MC is talking, introducing him. His mind is racing a mile a minute, thoughts of why Ricky Martin would want to talk to him of all people cluttering his brain. He’s just a simple man from New York City who once dreamed of singing; Ricky Martin is an internationally renown star who’s also a beacon for the queer community. He’s honored to just be on his radar.

When he reaches the stage, he manages to hear, "—our very own New York native! You all should know that this year’s theme is all his idea! Please give it up to our master mind, TK Strand!"

He smiles broadly as the stage lights blind him, waving in front of him to where he thinks the audience is. He inhales deeply and says, "Thank you, Mel, for this nice introduction."

The speaker smiles at him, her ponytail bouncing at her back. "The stage is yours!"

He winks at her as he takes the microphone set and situates himself in the middle of the stage. The lights dim, allowing him to see the first few rows of the audience; he can spot Grace and Jonah in the front row, and he wildly wonders if Carlos has come despite everything. A brief scan of the same front row lets him know that Leyre is there, escorted by Tommy , with the twins at her other side, and Nancy and Mateo closing ranks. There’s no sign of Carlos; for a moment, TK wishes he was there. But he can’t blame him for not wanting to see him ever again.

He clears his throat.

"Thank you very much for coming tonight," he begins. "I know you all are waiting for one song in particular"—he laughs as the crowd cheers—"but before that happens, I would love to sing a new song I've written. This is not something I've ever sung before, so I hope you enjoy it!”

He motions for an assistant to bring him his guitar, which has been ready for him in the wings, and feigns tuning it to gain a few seconds to center himself. This is by far the most personal song he’s written in a while — since before he met Alex — and it’s also the first one where he bares his soul in such a way that it’s evident for him who it is aimed at. He tuts into the microphone before announcing, “This is called After Love.”

The first few notes fill the air, suddenly charged in an almost silent venue.

He gets ready for the chorus, looking up from his guitar.

Long nights in your car, mornings in your arms

From five-hour calls to nothing at all

I guess I missed the signs, the writing on the wall

Don't know where it all went wrong

But if this is how it's got to be

I need someone to tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me

TK’s fingers keep caressing the strings of the guitar as he launches into the next verse, baring his soul even more than he already has. It feels exhilarating — freeing in every possible sense of the word.

What comes after love?

I want to know there's something for me after us

I don't think my heart was made to break this much

Tell me there's a happy ever after love

Tell me there's a happy ever after us

His voice wavers as he tries to sing the rest of the song, struggling with his own words as tears finally fall from his eyes.

I know you said that this was meant to be

Now these words are ancient history

At least I get to keep the memories, oh

Mirror, mirror, mirror on the wall

Will somebody catch me when I fall?

So then I'll keep on dancing on my own

I believe, I believe—

He lowers his head against the microphone once the song ends, not ready to face the audience yet, but the cheering and ovation that fills his ears make him look up. The whole venue is on their feet, clapping and shouting. TK sees Jonah in the front row, hugging Leyre while Grace and Tommy cheer next to them. In the wings, when he looks over there out of the corner of his eye, he sees Marjan wiping discreetly at her eyes while Paul holds her.

I believe in love

Even if, even if it wasn't meant for us

I believe, I believe

I believe in love

I just need someone to tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me

What comes after love?

I want to know there's something for me after us

I don't think my heart was made to break this much

Tell me there's a happy ever after love

Tell me there's a happy ever after us

“Thank you,” he mumbles into the microphone. “Thank you so much.”

His heart is swelling with all the love he can feel oozing from the crowd. Their energy is contagious, and it convinces TK that he can do anything — he can sing with Alex, he can deal with heartbreak, he can try to talk to Carlos and apologize and let him explain. He can try to right his wrongs.

He can try to find his happily ever after.

* ~ * ~ *

Carlos feels like he’s walking on the edge of a precipice for weeks after TK slams the door to his apartment and on their relationship. When it happened, he’d been too stunned to actually do something about it; he wishes he had run after TK, begged for forgiveness, tried to explain the reasons behind his weird relationship with his parents. But he hadn’t been able to make himself move from his spot, frozen on the couch. But he hadn’t done any of that. He hadn’t chased after TK. He hadn’t thought he was worthy of being heard.

Carlos firmly believes he deserved to be walked all over after everything he’d found out, after everything that tied his past to TK’s and the pain his chosen family had inflicted on TK’s biological one. That, combined with the fresh feeling of not even belonging into TK’s world, was simply too much.

At first, Nancy and Mateo attempt to get him to talk about what happened; his friends don’t take no for an answer and grill him for every tiny detail of his last interaction with TK. Tommy and Grace, who Carlos doesn’t doubt knows the other side of the story, remain silent as Nancy and Mateo ask and ask with no answer from Carlos. He thinks he’s seen Grace shake her head in disapproval at him more than once while they’re out on their traditional Saturday get-together, but he can’t be sure. His own guilty mind might just be playing tricks on him, who knows.

All he knows is that the days seem to mesh together in swirls of gray.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Leyre asks him as she’s tying her Converse, a few hours before the fundraiser show begins.

“I’m sure,” he tells her from his safe haven on the windowsill, where he’s perched with a blanket and a book. “You go and have fun with Evie and Izzie.”

“Am I allowed to hug Jonah?” she asks with all the innocence her big bright eyes can convey. It breaks Carlos’ heart to know that he’s put that doubt in her heart. “I’m not sure we’ll see him, there will be tons of people but—”

“Of course you’re allowed to hug Jonah!” he interrupts her earnestly. “I haven’t forbidden you from talking to him or hanging out with him at school. Why would you say that?”

“I’m not sure if TK would want him to hang out with me,” she explains simply. She brushes aside one rebellious lock of hair that has escaped her ponytail before continuing. “At school, he doesn’t know. But this is his concert. What if he doesn’t want me there?”

“He sent the tickets,” Carlos reminds her. “He wants you to be there. He wouldn’t have mailed the tickets if he didn’t want you to go. I doubt he doesn’t want Jonah and you to keep being friends.”

“I kinda liked the idea of us being siblings,” she mumbles as the doorbell rings, signaling that either Tommy or Nancy and Mateo are already here. “I’ll get it,” she offers when he moves to stand up.

It turns out to be Tommy, from the squeals he can hear as the twins barrel into his apartment. He smiles softly as the girls switch easily from English to Spanish; he's proud to say that he's also honored both his heritage and that of the woman who helped Iris as he's been raising Leyre.

"Hey, stranger," Tommy greets, coming to stand in front of him. "I feel like I only see you at school anymore."

"Are you not counting the Saturdays with Grace?" he asks in lieu of greeting. "I haven’t been feeling that well," he admits at her raised eyebrow.

"That much I could tell." She doesn't say anything else; Carlos is aware that the way he's feeling — or how everyone thinks he’s feeling — is common knowledge. After all, the most popular gossip magazines ran a few issues the three weeks after the breakup where they splashed his private life — not that there was much to find, thanks for his lack of social media — for everyone to see, including a few snapshots of him looking grim as he walked to school with his daughter. He thinks TK's lawyers might have had something to do with the fact that the magazines dropped the issue of the breakup quickly after one of them leaked Leyre’s name; Carlos had thought about suing them himself, but a few hours after posting the information online the same magazine had published an apology and a rectification. That smelled of a Paul Strickland intervention through and through.

"Why don't you come with us?" Tommy asks. She sits beside him on the windowsill. "TK sent enough tickets for all of us for a reason. He wants you to be there. Maybe he wants to apologize."

Carlos shakes his head. If anyone were to apologize, it should be him. "I'm good here, Tommy. Promise. I have my book and I have my blanket."

"Are you ever going to talk about what prompted that fight?" Her voice is gentle, not prying. Carlos knows Tommy Vega enough to understand that she's not out for his blood; she's trying to help him out. "And I'm not saying you have to tell me or Nancy or Mateo. But you should tell someone. Whatever it was, it's eating you alive. It seems like you're blaming yourself when TK was the one who walked all over you."

"He had his reasons," he mumbles. "I really don't want to talk about this."

She smiles sadly. "You were so good together, Carlos. I'm so sorry it didn't work out."

"Yeah, me too," he says, forcing a brave smile on his face. "But it reaches a point where you need to know when to let go. We weren't going anywhere. It was just—a dream." He sighs. "I'd better give up on the utopia of finding love."

"Love finds you when you're ready," Tommy retaliates. "I'll bring Leyre back home safe and sound," she adds casually, her way of telling him that she's dropping the subject until next time.

"Hey, Tommy," he calls after her before she turns around. "Is Julius in town for Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah, why?"

"My parents are coming to town, and I've invited Nancy and Mateo. Why don't y'all come, bring Julius with you?" He winks at her. "I'd love to have my family together just this once. We're flying to Austin for Christmas."

He watches as she processes his invitation. Tommy isn’t a woman who enjoys showing that she needs people, Carlos knows that much — she’s always had to be the strong one, first when she moved to New York City following her husband’s dream, and then when Charles died and left her to raise their children on her own. She’s a fighter, but that also means she believes she can’t show any weakness. Carlos knows Thanksgiving and Christmas are by far the hardest holidays for her; it’s just normal that he wants to help her in any capacity he can. He just hopes she doesn’t shut him down.

“That would be amazing,” she replies, a traitorous gleam in her eyes. “We’ll go down to Austin for Christmas too, since Julius will be there as well. Maybe we can catch up there as well. But for now, we’ll be honored to come for your family’s Thanksgiving.”

Carlos huffs a little laugh. “It’s our family celebration,” he tells her. “You guys are as much family to me as my parents are. Even if I don’t always show it.”

“I’m glad you consider us your family, because we do consider you ours,” Tommy says with a smile. “Even if you’re stubborn enough to keep yourself from one of the most amazing things that have ever happened to you.”

Carlos shakes his head without replying, letting her take the girls out the door to meet with Nancy and Mateo. He turns to his book, fully intending on focusing on it, but it’s not long before he drops it in his lap and favors staring outside the window. He’s not sure how long he remains in the same position, gaze lost in the tall buildings that make the city’s skyline that he’s grown to love, before a noise inside the apartment catches his attention. When he turns to the source of the sound, he realizes the television is on; Leyre must have left it turned on by accident. On the screen, a woman with a ponytail is talking to the audience in what looks like Madison Square Garden. Carlos sighs.

So it was deliberate.

He could turn it off. He could change stations and listen to the news that he’s sure he will find if he searches hard enough. But he doesn’t even try to reach for the remote; he stays seated on the windowsill, perched against the window and wrapped in a blanket that still smells like TK Strand, and watches as the fundraiser starts that his now ex-boyfriend had helped set up to save an already doomed school.

His already doomed school.

The song TK sings on his own slays Carlos in ways that he isn’t ready to admit. It’s a chant to love and to hope, an anthem for lost souls, a testimony that one can survive heartbreak even though it can leave you scarred for life. He lowers his head, hugging his knees until his cheek rests against the hard bone beneath his sweatpants. The sharpness of his knee keeps him grounded in a way nothing else, not even the cold weather outside, has been capable of.

TK looks thinner, his face more somber, his eyes lacking the spark that usually comes when he has one of his bright ideas. He looks like a shadow of himself, a shell of a man; but then Alex comes on stage and their joint song is announced. Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever seen TK school his features faster than in that moment, at least not in the few months they’ve dated. The man on that stage suddenly seems surer than before, his movements more fluid. It’s the same TK Strand he used to see in the posters Leyre had shown him before the concert that changed his life forever.

With a start, Carlos realizes that the man he’s watching unraveling the lyrics of a song about forever love is just a persona. It’s TK-Strand-the-singer, not the real TK. Carlos has had the real TK, he’s touched that soul with his fingertips, and he let him go. If he’s being honest with himself, he threw TK away as unceremoniously as he could, causing more damage in the aftermath of his bad decisions than ever before in his life. And he hadn’t seen a hint of that TK in any of his other public appearances — Carlos will never admit to anyone that he’s watched TK’s interviews in the solitude of his bedroom — until TK had sung After Love on that stage.

Carlos has always suspected that celebrities hide behind a mask as much as they need to, depending on how big their names become. Despite not having really given much thought to the idea of TK Strand before getting to know him, Carlos had believed the man that smiled back at him from the posters hung on Leyre’s room walls wasn’t all that there was to TK. He’s had the chance to learn about the person behind the cardboard cutout. He’s had the privilege to love TK for who he is without the gleam and shine of red carpets and camera flashes.

And only now, when he witnesses as TK slips back into the singer-persona everyone loves, the person who doesn’t feel anything that’s not love or happiness, Carlos realizes what he’s lost.

It never hurt this deep before with any other breakup because he had never ever actually fallen in love. Not until TK Strand.

Carlos doesn’t try to dry the tears that race down his face as the rest of the artists perform, his mind forever stuck on the twitch of TK’s lips and the sadness concealed beneath layers and layers of pretending.

Carlos is still mulling over this realization when he dances around the kitchen to help his mother with the traditional Reyes Thanksgiving dinner a few days later. Andrea Reyes is a force to be reckoned with while she cooks, her fingers deftly shaping the small buns she's making for dessert as she guides him when he begins stuffing the turkey. He's always helped his mother during the preparations of big holidays dinners, such as Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter and the different birthdays, so he's now a pro at mixing the right amount of spices and at creating unique flavors which surprise his guests. Leyre has always profited from his passion for cooking; she prefers his meals to anyone else's, except for her Abuela Andrea. Carlos had long ago given up on trying to live up to his mother's legendary tamales, and has learned to enjoy them whenever he can have them instead of trying — and spectacularly failing — at replicating them.

"You're distracted, Carlitos," his mother says out of the blue at the same time as he opens the oven to stick the turkey inside and burns his fingertips. "Ven aquí, déjame ver."

"It's nothing," he says with a shrug. He doesn't want to give a simple burn an importance it doesn't have, but his mother shakes her head and tsks at him. He obeys reluctantly. "I can deal with a small burn."

"You should know better than that," Andrea says sternly. "I thought your best friend was a nurse."

"And a former paramedic," Tommy says from the doorway. When Carlos turns to look at her, he can see she's holding a half-empty glass of wine. "Can I see?"

"It's just a burn," he mumbles as Tommy inspects the injury and deems him fit to keep working after applying some cream from her ever-present medical bag. "Use gloves."

"I can't cook with gloves!" he protests, but the combined glare from his mother and his friend shuts him up. "It's not fair that you gang up on me."

"Wait until Leyre sees that," his mother states, pointing at his finger. "Our level of ganging up, as you call it, has nothing on that girl's."

Carlos huffs out a sigh. He knows his daughter worries about him a lot; it isn't going to be pretty when she notices. She usually goes feral if he so much as cuts himself while chopping vegetables for dinner, and her protectiveness has spiked by a thousand ever since the breakup with TK. “It’s just a burn,” he tries once more. “Please, don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.”

Tommy smiles at him. “Do you need any more help with dinner?” she asks.

“Oh, no, no,” Andrea says as she tries to shoo Tommy out of the kitchen. “You’re a guest today, you just go out there and enjoy the game and the wine.”

“Okay,” Tommy acquiesces. “But once we’re all in Austin for Christmas, I expect you and Gabriel at mine for dinner, and then you will be the guests.”

“Count on it,” Andrea promises. “Now, go!”

Once they’re left alone in the kitchen, Carlos busies himself with fixing the mashed potatoes. He hopes the rest of time they spend preparing the food will be quiet, but his hopes are crushed when his mother says, “I’ve been thinking, when will you be arriving in Austin for Christmas?”

“Uh, night before Christmas Eve, but I’m not sure about the time,” he offers. “I need to check it. Do you need the exact timetable now?”

“No,” his mother says with a warm smile. “You can confirm it later. And,” she adds, trying to make it sound like it’s an afterthought, but Carlos knows her well enough to be aware that it, in fact, isn’t. “Will you be bringing your friend TK with you?”

“What?” Carlos halts his movements mid-mash, arm stretched at an awkward angle, as he stares agape at his mother. “Why on Earth would I be bringing—” He splutters, unable to finish his question, too taken aback by both the fact that his mother remembered TK’s name correctly and the fact that she remembered TK, period.

“Because he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” Andrea Reyes, Carlos had discovered throughout the years, could be many things, but when it concerned her son, she was never subtle. “At least, that’s what all the gossip magazines and Jesse Corbett say. Not that you’ve told your mother or anything.” There’s no reproach in her voice, just concern and that smidge of love that always shines through her words whenever she talks to him.

Carlos doesn’t look at her, all of a sudden too self-conscious and embarrassed to even hold her gaze. He thought his mother wouldn’t follow any of the celebrity gossip, and it turns out she’s been well aware of what has been going on in his life. He blushes; he’s ashamed that he wasn’t the one to tell her.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” he mumbles. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in my—my love life.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His mother stops what she’s doing and rounds the counter to stand right beside him. “You’re my son. I’m always interested in whatever you want to tell me.”

“I’m sorry you found out in this way,” he stutters. “It’s just that—” He doesn’t know how to convey everything he’s feeling right now, so he settles for, “I was scared of telling you.”

She stares at him with a mix of fondness and exasperation in her gaze, tainted with what Carlos can only imagine is hurt. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when she speaks, her voice is thready. “I don’t think I understand, mijo. Why would you be scared of telling me? Have I ever—Carlos, have I ever made you feel like I didn’t—”

He inhales deeply. He can feel a headache building from the way his blood is pulsing in his ears and the sting of tears in the back of his eyes. He lifts two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep them at bay, but only manages to be half successful at it when he speaks with a trembling voice. "You never said anything about—me."

"What was there to say?" His mother sounds genuinely shocked and upset. "I won't lie and tell you that when you told us that, uh, you are, ehm—"

"Gay, mamá," he supplies. It comes out harsher than he intended. Before he can apologize, his mother is speaking again.

"It rocked our world, Carlitos. We were—shocked could be a suitable word. But we still loved you back then and we love you now. That's only a part of who you are, and it could never be something that would make us not love you anymore."

"But you never said anything!" he repeats, throwing his hands up in the air. The tears are falling freely now, and he couldn't care less about the shakiness of his own voice. "The next morning, it was as if I—I hadn't said anything. Papá was reading the newspaper and he commented on the Astros bullpen and the—the price of unleaded and that new calf that had been born overnight at the family ranch. Nothing about—about who I was. Who I am. Not then. Not ever."

His mother reaches out and pulls him into a hug. Their height difference is more evident now that he needs to bend down to fall into her embrace, but he goes willingly, like the teenager he'd been once upon a time. "I'm sorry, mijo," she mutters into his curls. "We thought it’d be better if we went on as though nothing had changed, because for us, nothing really had. You were our little boy, you still are. I see now how it must have looked from the outside. I'm sorry we made you think we didn't approve or like you had to hide that part of yourself from us."

"Me too," he sniffles.

They remain like that for longer than Carlos would have liked; his back will give him hell in the morning, but he will endure the pain because it means that he's got his mother back.

"So, about TK," his mother begins when they separate.

"There's nothing about TK," he cuts her off before she can continue. "I won't be inviting him because we're no longer together."

"How so? Do I need to have some words with him?"

"Mamá, you don't even have his number."

"I can get it from Tommy. Don't you test me."

"It's not pretty," he whispers. "And it has a lot to do with me and with my grief and my insecurities." He doesn't think it will do any good to confess now that his fear of being open to his parents played a big part in that last argument; that'll be a conversation for another time, if ever. "I just wanted to feel at home with someone. He, um, he wasn't it."

"Home is wherever the grief washes off your hands with the most ease," his mother says wisely. "Did you ever feel at home with TK?"

He reflects on the question. Truthfully, he knows he's never been more at ease with someone — he's never been more himself — than when he was with TK. Right there in the singer's arms, or spending time playing with Jonah, or watching as TK and Leyre bonded over music, or simply enjoying the silence, the four of them together — that had been the happiest he's ever been in his life.

He realizes now that he felt invincible because he loved and was loved; maybe there's a way to apologize to TK. Even if they never get back to how it was, Carlos knows he at least owes TK the truth.

He opens his mouth to reply to his mother when Mateo barrels into the kitchen. "Carlos! Your father has just received the best news!"

"What?" He turns around to face his friend.

"Come to the living room! Come, come on!"

Carlos exchanges a glance with his mother before they both rush to the living room, the tamales momentarily forgotten as the turkey roasts in the oven. There’s a group surrounding Gabriel Reyes; Nancy and Tommy look up from the small screen of a phone that Carlos recognizes as his father’s and Tommy mouths you won’t believe this before his father calls for him.

“Carlos, let me introduce you to Captain Owen Strand,” Gabriel says in an even voice. “He’s the father of your friend TK.”

“I’m—I’m aware,” he stammers. He doesn’t correct his father, but he feels his mother’s hand squeezing his arm. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” he greets, perching himself on the back of his couch and waving awkwardly at the screen. He’s amazed at the sheer resemblance between TK and his father.

“Same here, Carlos. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Captain Strand says with a smile. Carlos’ heart skips a beat before he realizes Captain Strand most probably is talking about his parents and not TK. “I’ve been told you’re on the lookout for a job as a teacher, right?”

“Sadly, the school we all work at is closing at the end of the semester.”

“Then I have good news for you!” Captain Strand beams, and the similarities between that smile and TK’s feel like a slap to Carlos’ face. “I know of a new school that will be opening next school year, and they’re looking for young teachers.”

“¡Es el destino!!” Andrea exclaims.

Carlos frowns at the screen. Captain Strand lives in Austin, so there’s no way in hell that he knows of a school in New York City unless TK has been talking to him. He doesn’t want to keep his hopes up just in case, and a second later, Tommy crushes him when she asks, “I have to ask, what’s the catch?”

“I’m afraid the school’s not located in your area,” Captain Strand says almost apologetically. “But I’ve been told you all could have a job there, so maybe you’d be interested in relocating.”

“Relocating where?” Carlos asks, but he feels like he has the answer. He needs to think of Leyre and her life in the city, of her friends and the opportunities she’ll have if they stay in New York.

But there won’t be any opportunities for her if he doesn’t work.

“The school’s opening in Austin,” Captain Strand explains. “But by a coincidence it seems you all are from around here so wouldn’t it be like coming back home?”

Carlos looks around as his friends stare at each other and at the screen alternatively, gazes blown up with giddiness and fright; they’ve all been in New York far longer than they had anticipated, and Carlos can imagine that for most of them, coming back home sounds like music to their ears. Carlos and Tommy look at each other; they’re the only ones who can’t only think about themselves. In Tommy’s eyes, Carlos sees a question and a determined stare.

“—and they’re willing to interview all of you over Christmas if you’re able to come to town,” Captain Strand is saying when Carlos focuses back on the call. “Gabriel and I, we may have put in a good word for you.”

“You don’t even know us!” Mateo almost shrieks in his excitement. Carlos cringes.

“But I do,” Gabriel says. “I’ve known you for the best part of seven years. You’re my son’s family too. I will vouch for you.”

“So, what do you say?” Captain Strand asks them all. “I know the principal. She’s a good friend.”

“You mean girlfriend, right?” Andrea teases fondly.

With a start, Carlos realizes that his parents have bonded with Captain Strand, and he didn’t have a clue. He’s distanced himself so much that not only has he prevented them from learning about him, but he’s also missed so many things in his parents’ lives. Another thing to add to the list of regrets, he thinks.

“Whatever, Andrea.”

“Don’t whatever me, Owen!” she exclaims playfully.

“So, what do you say? You up for an interview?”

Mateo and Nancy don’t even stop to think; they both agree to an interview. Carlos envies them, and their carefreeness. There’s more to it than the mere idea of going to an interview, Captain Strand’s words loaded with a meaning that doesn’t get lost on Carlos. It means making a decision; it means potentially uprooting everything Leyre has ever known and moving her back to where he grew up. It means leaving the city that’s been his home and the place where he’s known love like never before.

It means going against Iris’ wish.

He debates with himself, his heart and his mind warring in the arena of his soul.

In the end, he knows which side of him will win. Because he now knows what’s best for Leyre, for himself, for them as a family, and all he can do is hope that Iris will know that too and forgive him for going against her wishes at last.

“Yeah,” he answers, earning himself a whoop from the room. “I think I’d like that interview in Austin, sir.”

#the fic #lire's 911lsbb #forever in a second too short (home is a heartbeat)#911lsbb #chapter 9

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othercat2 · 2 years

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Fic Snip: Build a Life from Scratch 21

It becomes pretty clear that John Crocker isn't doing too well, despite having the Condesce and Mindfang's influence pulled out of him. Highblood gives it some long name, but it's basically depression. Crocker's tired, angry and sad and doesn't want to talk about it or to anyone. Redglare for some reason takes this as a challenge and starts bugging him.

This in turn annoys the fuck out of Jade, but Signless takes her aside after watching one of Crocker and Redglare's exchanges. Jade comes out of the little conversation still annoyed, but cautiously watching, ready to split them up if anything goes wrong. This exchange is notable enough for you to go, "uh you know humans don't do kismesis, right?" at Redglare.

"Obviously you do hatefriends," she says, doing a little head tilt that's a bit like an eyeroll. "And who says it's pitch?" She reaches out, with definite intent to flick your forehead, and you push her hand away. She lets you. "Are you his hatefriend too? Or his lusus?"

"I'd just rather there not be any weird interspecies blow-up before we have the boss fight," you say.

"But after's okay?" Redglare asks with a smirk.

"Sure, whatever," you say. You're a bit faster with the forehead flick. Redglare is not able to dodge and ends up rubbing her forehead ruefully.

Everyone gets John Crocker up to speed on the rebirth in the new world situation, plus the quest to destroy the Wicked Witch of the West. He has extremely mixed feelings about the situation. Someone had a very complicated relationship with his wicked foster mother, and you get the feeling that at the bottom, Crocker doesn't want Ursula the Sea Bitch to be hurt. (Even though his foster mom is almost literally a primordial sea monster, and she and Winnowill had their hooks in his brain.)

This upsets Jade and Alter Dave. And by "upset," you actually mean "enrages." They both jump right down his throat, which causes some worried looks among the trolls. Maryam looks like she might want to step in, Demoness looks exasperated, and Highblood just looks like he's enjoying the chaos. Signless and Disciple step in, physically putting themselves between Jade and Alter Dave. "Jade, Dave, I understand why you're both angry, but you aren't listening to John," Signless says. Meanwhile, his body language is saying "but you're not getting past me or Meulin."

"He's been brainwashed! By that hag!" Jade snaps.

"No I haven't!" John shouts back. He almost makes an attempt to get past Signless, but Redglare blocks him off. "Maybe you're the one that's brainwashed!"

"She's literally Sea Hitler dude," Alter Dave says.

"You really think I don't know that?" John asks incredulously. "Do you really think I don't know she's the Red Skull crossed with Ming the Merciless?"

"Then why did you stay? Why didn't you help fight her?" Jade demands. "Why didn't you come with me?"

(There is way too much feeling in the cabin of the long long battle truck and you don't want to deal with it.)

John takes a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What part of clinical depression do you have trouble understanding?" He asks patiently. For you, it's surprising that he'd say it so plainly, and clearly, it's a little surprising to both Jade and Dave as well. Just. Admitting it like that. (You can't. You can't imagine just doing that.)

"I couldn't fight my own brain and her too." John sighs. "She's a terrible person and a terrible parent. She was also mentally ill and being there for her was what kept me going most days."

"She was an alien, how would you know she's mentally ill?" Dave asks. "As opposed to just evil. And an alien." He looks around at the trolls. "Uh, no offense."

"And what mental illness would you be supposing Her Condescension to have?" Highblood asks.

"Highblood madness," Demoness supplies helpfully.

"Do I look like a psychologist?" John asks. "I went on stage to tell jokes, not sell self-help books. She was angry and miserable and intermittently ambushed us because she thought it was funny. She taught both of us to shoot and fight and for a while, we were kinda afraid her species was some kind of big game hunter like a Yautja and we were being raised as either hounds or maybe foxes."

"She really liked that franchise way too much," Jade mutters. "We used to speculate about which would be worse."

"She also had nightmares and crying jags and if you caught her in the middle of either she'd scream at you about it for hours. She was self-centered, and mostly couldn't be bothered to care about other people. Maybe she was a sociopath. Maybe she was a narcissist. Most of my material came from her unique crazy with the serial numbers filed off, and she either never knew or she never cared." He glares at Jade. "But I stayed because she needed me not because she brainwashed me or whatever. I understand why you left, why won't you understand why I stayed?"

"Ordinary co-dependant shit?" you interject before Jade can say anything.

John snorts. "Sure call it that." He sighs. "Look, she messed around with my brain. She had one of her stooges also mess around with my brain. And yes, I'm angry about it. But killing her is out, hurting her is out. I don't want to fight her."

"What about your granddaughter?" Jade demands. "That bitch is keeping me from my grandson, damn straight I'm going to fight her. I'll kick her fucking ass!"

John doesn't say anything, but his jaw tenses. He looks away.

"You won't fight her, even if it's to help her?" Demoness asks.

"Help how?" John asks. "It doesn't seem like any of this is about 'helping' her."

#homestuck #godstuck #build a life from scratch #bro strider #the demoness #and others

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stem-sloop · 26 days

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imagine we do resume contact (which, has already been previously stated to be a possibility), what then? She's shown no interest in maintaining an active conversation with me during my time of shown, apparent interest---the period of time from which i started "our" conversations. It has been me the one to spark each and every interaction we've had and such has an issue which is the clear precedent i've set of interest towards her---and thus the lack thereby of hers towards mine how i wish not to be at the will of a woman who has all the power in the world to make me happy yet has decided to leave me in this desperate liminal space of loneliness rationally i fully accept the fact that i am not to talk to her in---at the least--- a brief brewing hot stew of time for the time being. I understand the very limited concept---that i daringly call strategy--- of cooldown that i've implemented---thing i've already stated was an inevitability either way--- with her. But I cannot accept it any other way. What is rationale without the uncopious mind of the being, controlled not by logic and arithmetic but the very heart and thought that dares him to grow closer to that person, that urges him to form a connection so deep and entrenched in this terrestrial sphere, so as to leave with more than he came to it with but is it so hurting that she is not of the desire to speak to me, and of rather ignoring whatever bridge ive tried to build in an attempt to have her cross through the river she so humbly walks on the other side of? Yes it is so hurting. And it burns. It is a burning cruelty that which has been done to me. What is being done to me. And this fire is one flame i cannot let go of. I hold it with both hands in an endearing effort of dumbfounded hope, one in which i may say i can't bring myself to fully believe on, but which i nonetheless second for myself to hang on to. life must not be a solitary confinement if it is this hard to feel without, and so easy to feel with. We have been created to be social, to love and to be loved, and we yearn for this very simple state of being; and yet, it is oh so hard and it has become oh so difficult to achieve it by normal means that now i succumb to the personal yet universal ascetic and ethereal ground that many so many of others have made a home of

#2 seconds may be too merciful perhaps 1 and a half

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daddyissuesducks · 1 year

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Im not going to tag this on anything but I really do just need to breakdown for myself why I'm not enjoying this show at the point I'm at in it.

So my GF and I have been watching the vampire diaries because it's a show that means a lot to them and I genuinely did really enjoy it. Mostly because I found it genuinely well written and engaging. I liked the characters, I cared about their relationships, but I'm half way through season 4 and honestly these last few episodes have been such a massive downgrade in quality. The plot is so convoluted that I myself, a new viewer, am having to explain why the fuck anything that is happening on screen makes sense to my girlfriend who's a long time fan. And that's not on her. I absolutely understand why it's confusing as fuck because if you miss like 2 line of dialogue or don't remember a random legend told as back ground filler 6 episodes ago it makes literally no sense. I'm surviving on a meta writers instinct of hearing that legend and going "oh that guy's giving villian energy, that's gonna be the plot" and putting the pieces together through a writer's lense of what makes the most sense to write dramatically which isn't how you should be expecting an audience to view your show. It makes me historically very good at predicting twists which you shouldn't want your audience to be. The other plot of the love triangle was really really interesting for the first couple of episodes but since the sire twist has become almost unwatchable. I liked the love triangle this season because it was literally Elana at a transitional stage in her life choosing what kind of person she wanted to be. Each love interest represented a different kind of life she could live and she had to chose that. But now it is the literal opposite. But I can deal with bad plots as long as the characters are interesting and

Elana: has literally had all her agency removed by magic despite her drive and agency being what made her an interesting protagonist in the first place. She bucked the trend of a love triangle hinge in that she was active in her decisions. I felt like I had a really clear idea of her inner thoughts and motivations. But now she has literally had all her agency but her love for a man removed by the plot

Stephan: was interesting at the start of the season. I like when he shows his flaws and his stubborn resistance against letting Elana break his moral system to the point of nearly killing her was interesting. It showed a flaw. He was appealing because he respected her choices as a human but as a vampire, he can't because he is terrified she will end up like him. It's the issue with empathy and empathy one of his major traits as a vampire is going to be heightened and so is it's downsides. He is putting himself in her shoes but not realising that his own bias' effect how he believes she's going to behave. But then it turns out he's right and she should have just been able to do what he said but couldn't because plot, fundamentally less interesting. He is now serving the only purpose of sulking that she dared to sleep with the person she was obviously going to sleep with when they broke up. I get that her sleeping with his brother is bad but like, my guy you knew. You literally said you couldn't be with her because she had feeling for him. And I'm getting less vibes of "I'm mad my ex slept with my brother because it's my brother and feels shitty" and more "I'm mad Elana is having sex with anyone but me even though we broke up" which is very much not how he behaves. Idk, I fell of team Stephan with the bridge incident, the fact they ever dated after that point is honestly insane imo. I get he was a ripper at that point but given how that's a metaphor for addiction, I don't buy it. It is possible absolutely to love an addict and they deserve that love but you have to put boundaries down. If your alcoholic boyfriend threatens to kill you while drunk, makes you fully believe they're going to do it, before saying sorry lol I was never really going to, you fucking leave. Yes the alcohol made them do it but you get out and maybe try and make sure they're getting a different kind of help if you can when you do. I don't mind the plot having her date him again, people are complicated and so are emotions in relationships like that, but it should realise that when he did that he stopped being the good choice.

Daemon: honestly he's still fine but he's not allowed to do anything but pine over the siring and love triangle. He's not carrying enough plot for him to save it

Tyler: honestly bores me a little. I liked him when his plot was just him and Caroline but he leans way way too much on toxic masculity for me to be invested. I do not care about wolf pack power dynamics I'm sorry, I just don't. I don't feel the stakes. I just feel like half my time is spent watching people fight over their egos. Werewolves are an interesting concept but I get so turned off them by pack dynamic plots. It doesn't help that his actor is pretty terrible too

Tyler's wolf girl friend: performance is very flat imho

Ric: I love him but dead

Jenna: love her but dead

Carol: love her but dead

Bonnie's grandma: love her but dead

Anna: love her but dead

Lexi: love her but dead

Rose: love her but dead

Meredith: written out

Everyone on the council but the cop: dead

The sheriff: oink oink

Elijah: my blorbo but absent

Katherine: facinating but absent

Bonnie: relegated to literally just a macguffin. I hate this for her. In the Jenny Nicholson video she mentions this being a big problema ndnfor the first 3 seasons I didn't believe her but she was completely right and I hate it. Bonnie is a deeply interesting character with interesting relationships with the main cast but she's not even close with any of them anymore.

Caroline: I loved her so much but shes just mostly doing the dull love triangle plot and isn't getting to be anything beyond a bitchy best friend sterotype, which was what she started as an initial refution of

Matt: I do not care about him basically at all. Any affection I had for him was killed by him fucking kidnapping Elana and getting her killed.

Jeremy: I don't care as much about him as I do Elana but also a victim of a plot based removal of agency. This is a theme and I hate it

Shane: i just don't find him an engaging villian I'm sorry. I don't understand him enough to.

April: she's ok, I just don't feel like I know her enough beyond dead dad and sweet

Klaus: I do like him. But I like Klaus when he's not supposed to be intimidating me because he can't do it. If Klaus is acting like a charmer or a snot nosed kid ruler having a tantrum he works amazingly. If he is being treated like the big scary unpredictable villian I don't like him anywhere near as much.

Kol: annoying and boring. The worst original by like 10 miles

Rebekah: literally the only reason I'm still watching. She is my baby, she is my darling sweet cheese. She deserves all the love and attention in the world and she can kill, torture, and maim as much as she needs to get it. I'm glad she's undaggered so she can save this show.

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septembersghost · 3 years

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when you are talking about bleak takes. man there are so many running wild rn. why are people dismissing 'everything you did was for love' when it's one good thing we can take from season 15?

an honest answer that is fandom critical, so here goes: bitterness and hurt is consuming people to the point where the discussion is getting out of control, is my only reason. people are trying to moralize something (namely Dean himself, and the connections he makes) that isn’t about morality, it’s about transcendence.

and because there’s this massive schism between sides regarding various ships, that speech has become a battleground and is being lost in the crossfire (one side not willing to hold onto its selfless importance unless they can force it to change shape, another side negating what it means to Dean and his motivation, when the fundamental meaning of it is about Dean as a human being. we didn’t need to be told that, but hearing it anyway carries weight despite how it’s unraveled in some spheres). I’ve said that the context is devastating while the content is beautiful and important, and I stand by that. I doubt I need to restate my hurt over Dean and how real of a grief it is, but fandom insisting on snatching away pieces of him worsens it and makes it even more impossible to heal. (I feel bad because I have officially hit the breaking point of unfollowing people who love him and who are in deep mourning with me, but are hateful of the things that are essential to him, his actions, his closest bonds, because it is too much damage for me to handle. I can’t take seeing his essence shredded when we already lost him in a brutal way.) I also feel like people simply don’t want to see that love is not always easy, clean, and pretty. Dean’s existence as an emblem of love doesn’t mean it’s fundamentally pure or without mistakes or without trauma - it’s the fact that it isn’t DEFINED by those aspects, it is defined by something so much greater than that. trying to box it in or shame/negate portions of it only fragments him in an unfair way. humanity itself is not easily defined. love is not clear cut, black and white, wrong and right - it’s layered and complicated and frustrating and consoling and full of potential. love does not have a singular meaning, its meanings are myriad. people can hurt you, and you can hurt people, and you can make amends, or not talk about it, and still love them with every breath. some of it is innate, some of it is instilled, it doesn’t mean any of it is less real or important.

what he did and was and is was defined by his capacity for brave, trembling, ferocious, tender, irrevocable love. if that means something to you? you’re allowed to hold onto it.

#anonymous #letterbox #the discourse about this is something else #the discourse that's basically playing scoreboards with love really loses me #as if it can be tallied up like that #as if it's competitive #like. his heart is special. it's the beacon #blotting it out is erasing him even more than his ending did #if we can't at least let him have #that's not who i am #then what's left #if we can't let him have the bridge which to be clear has become very meaningful and vital to me then we're diminishing any peace he found #(yes i did strain against heaven in my grief at first but did i come to a cathartic place with it out of necessity? absolutely)#if we can't let him be the multifaceted character who loved others and in many many ways #we're letting him die all over again #idk i reject it #looking at it through the lens of ships only is the problem i think #surface level banal shipping was never what this story was about #ship wars in this fandom are beyond help #but he's getting diluted and lost between factions and i'm not here for that #dean feelings

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moonsdancer · 2 years

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Everyone in this scene is wrong (and lying). But also everyone in this scene is right. And Mel is the most right

A drive-by analysis of THAT ep7 scene.

The fandom reading of this scene has long been a source of frustration for me, which I've written about elsewhere in meta here and by way of fic here. Primarily because so much of the focus was on positioning Mel as a mean baddie conniving villain in opposition to Jayce and Viktor and / or using her evil politico-feminine wiles to drive a wedge between Jayce and Viktor (both readings reinforced by a distinct shippery lens, let's be honest). You can watch the full scene here and even the title of that video frames this scene in the ways I outlined above, it was the only somewhat full clip I could find.

But that's not what's happening in this scene.

All three characters have actually got three different and VALID positions and perspectives playing out here, and the show is wonderfully good enough to allow for that nuance even if fandom doesn't:

Mel, the pragmatist and strategist whose job it is to safeguard Piltover and identify threats is proposing the building of a defensive system to combat the clear, oncoming threat of a soon-to-be weaponized hex crystal. While we know in her heart she wants to foster peace, she believes that "war is a failure of statecraft" and she hopes to figure out a diplomatic solution but she's not unaware of the realities of the challenge confronting them (and she has some pretty clear blindspots that she has to confront as well re: how the council / Piltover are positioned). She is also shouldering the alarming news from foreign allies that potential enemies perceive Piltover as "vulnerable" due to the ongoing unrest in the undercity.

Jayce, who is caught between his role as a scientist and his position on the council, to which he was elevated explicitly to protect Piltover from oncoming threats after the two bombing incidents in ep4 and the theft of the hex crystal. He's always wanted hextech to "protect" and "improve lives" but he's also increasingly aware that the threats facing them may require some kind of active means of defense. He wants to take some kind of action, he always does and it's both his strength and his downfall. We also learn later in the episode that he's always dreamed of building magical hammers with which to play vigilante, so this notion of active martial-militarised "defense" has always been in him. Also, important to remember that Jayce by this point had already instituted some pretty reckless, sometimes fascist policies in his bid to "take action", including the decree to restrict movement from Zaun in the interests of protecting the city.

Viktor, sees himself as something of a pacifist-idealist and he's a Zaunite. He believes hextech should only be used to "help save lives", that they are "scientists not soldiers" and no amount of threat or danger justifies building a defense mechanism that may easily become a weapon that's used against the most vulnerable, and specifically against his people or innocents. For context, much like the two above, we can't read his aggression towards Mel and Jayce in this scene without recalling that mere hours before he had been detained on the bridge between the undercity and top-city like a criminal because of a decree that his best friend put in place. He's likely still justifiably smarting from the indignities of that experience.

Everyone in this scene is withholding information or outright lying.

Mel isn't telling the whole truth about her concerns for the city's safety and what she's heard from her allies, she is afraid and one can see it in her face throughout the scene, but she believes she's not in a position to express that.

Jayce isn't sharing that part of him very clearly does want to make weapons, and he already has ideas down for a prototype that he later completes in ep8 to go on the unsanctioned raid with Vi.

Viktor is lying about the potential of the hex crystal being weaponised at the beginning of this scene. I can only surmise he's lying because Viktor is not a stupid man. He recognises the skill and talent in the crude bomb in his hands, it doesn't take a genius to see that whoever built it could make even more advanced weapons EASILY. But he insists that it's "a stretch" - bullshit.

Everyone in this scene is right, too. BUT, and this is key, the show also wants to show the damning consequences of their stances / carry these positions to their likely damning conclusions.

Like really, I think as I've tried to outline above, each one of them has a pretty valid point of view.

Even Jayce, whom a lot of the fandom somewhat unfairly imo tends to dismiss as an impulsive idiot, makes some sense. If his raid with Vi had been carried out with a bit more foresight, it would've been a sound strategy to weaken Silco's power base. And yeah, the inaction has been a serious issue on many fronts. The narrative quickly forces Jayce to learn the most destructive / harmful conclusion of his approach to act first, think through the potential consequences later, when he kills a child.

Viktor is also correct that this is a slippery slope. It's dangerous to hide behind the notion of having "no choice but to do things" because that can so easily be used to justify reprehensible things. He, like Jayce, is forced to confront some harsh truths and his own hypocrisy when he accidentally kills Sky in his thirst to use the hexcore to strengthen his body.

Mel, who understands war and power plays better than anyone in the room, knows how precarious things are and that the city is essentially a powder keg. She's correct that the crystals will be weaponized and it'll come back to bite Piltover in the arse, and the show's own narrative proves her right (which is why I said above she's kind of the most right). As far as we know, they're all dead right now because no one ever got around to building a damn defense system. Thanks, guys. But like the other two, she's forced to confront the negative sides to her plan in the shape of her mother, who sees any move to develop hextech, even in much-needed defense as an opportunity to exploit for her own benefit and hunger for power.

tl;dr

The one thing this show is fairly good at is multipolar ideas and perspectives. In some instances, this may become frustrating. But in this scene it's one of the STRONGEST times that I feel like it's such a strong narrative choice because it gives us three distinct characters, with three distinct points of view, and none of them undermine each other - but they are held accountable and forced to learn. That's really mature writing.

The unfortunate thing is that so many fandom readings only acknowledge one side or actively shit on individual characters, which, and I'm not afraid to say this, is such a lazy, reductive way to read these three, their positions and the story as a whole, imo.

Anyway, this was meant to be a drive-by post but here we are. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Other random questions I ponder because of this scene:

Does Viktor ever feel guilty about the fact that he's helped Piltover to widen the gap of inequality with Zaun as part of the Hextech innovator team, and is in some ways, kind of a sellout? Could make for interesting nuances to his journey next season. Is he deemed a sellout?

Just how long has Jayce been playing around with swaggy prototypes of hextech weapons. He was already dabbling prior to this scene at the Talis Forge. Hm.

If they make it out alive, will Mel get to say she told them so? Because I'd really like for that to happen, bye!

#viktor arcane #jayce talis #mel medarda #arcane meta #meljayvik #well kind of....

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slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years

Text

Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Slasher Victorian AU series Featuring Brahms Heelshire.

Divider by https://firefly-graphics.tumblr.com/

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 1

Prompt: 79

Brahms taps his foot under his large, dark oak desk. He taps his pencil on a stack of papers, legal documents for his clients, ranging from the mundane like Mr. Krueger complaining about his neighbor Mr. Voorhees, ranging from 'standing there, menacingly' to ' He breathed in my direction.' To the extreme as an abuse case against a young vulnerable girl named Carrie.

Brahms pinches the bridge of his nose, the paper in front of him the most important and he was to not be paid for solving the problem. He picks up the paper to re-read the sections that stuck out the most.

We are advising you on your son, Lawrence, we regret to inform you of his wild, ruckus-filled behavior. We understand that young boys have a degree of tomfoolery to them but he, Lawrence, is turning out to be one who fancies himself an urchin.

Brahms grunts, eyes scanning the page,

He recently had put candy, that was similar in appearance to the headmistresses medication.

Brahms chuckles,

He also has set up a boxing club. He charges the boys a pence a piece for admittance and takes bets against the two boys fighting.

Brahms bit his lip, his cheeks turning pink. He clears his throat as a co-worker glances his way.

His face fell as he re-read the final line.

If these behaviors fail to be corrected over the upcoming break, we recommend a crammer school for young Lawrence.

Brahms slams the paper down on the desk, he leans back in his chair, gripping the arm of the chair, "Crammer school" he seethes. Brahms made a vow to Gerti, to never let their son end up at such a place, he was to be a gentleman and a gentleman comes from a gentlemanly background. Not a Crammer school for the slow and sluggish, a Gentleman's brute offspring to be fed into the army for slaughter.

"Any plans for the night?"

Brahms snaps his head towards his co-worker, Mr. Bates.

"Any plans for the night, Brahms? Taking the maid out for another moving picture?" Mr. Bates grins and nudges Brahms's shoulder with his elbow.

"Ah, no, she's been," Brahms twirls the pencil in his fingers, "Busy."

Brahms glances at his desk, the picture of his late wife and son.

Mr. Bates's eyes follow Brahms's, "You know, I'm sure Gerti doesn't mind. Lawrence adored her, yes, I'm sure that boy is dying for a new one," He rests his clammy hand on Brahms's shoulder, "After all, a boy's best friend is his mother."

Brahms recoils, "By God, Norman, listen to yourself," Brahms brushes off Norman's hand as he stands, "A Boy needs friends his own age," He grabs his important papers, stacking them loosely, he yanks his briefcase from under the desk to slam it on his desk, "Not a mother as a friend."

You gleefully prepare the ginger beer, the old beige and brown bottles embedded with the Heelshire name. You scan the current bottle in your hands, "1771" you read aloud, "My goodness."

You delicately place the plates on the table, humming as you admired the beautiful set. "This costs more than one week's wage." Another tentative glance, "Which is why..." You twirl in the drawing-room, "I'm getting another job!"

Your mind raced back to last week...

The carriage ride was bumpy, every bump from a pothole to a large rock made your already uneasy stomach flip.

"Almost there, miss!" The coach called out to you, "Sorry for the ride, Daniel has made a donation to get the road fix, beautiful ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You opened the flyer in your hand, you read the bold letters over the top,

Apple Pickers wanted weekend work. Only at Daniel Candy's Farm

"Tis nice of him to hire those with no work history or those already with a job, ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You repeated. You brought your attention to the upcoming estate, the large white manor stood out among the hues of greens, from the grass to the pine and oak trees in a neat line leading to the entrance of the manor.

The coachman helped you out of the carriage, "Now, miss, memba' to curtsey and all that."

"Thank you, and thank you for being so kind."

"I only hire the best."

Your breath caught in your throat, eye bugged out to the tall man who appeared to appear as if from nowhere. You looked up, the source of the voice, the deep baritone still carried itself within you.

"My coachman, I only hire the best, shall you prove me right?" His voice was like thick honey, his onyx eyes were warm, his hand was large with not a hint of labor upon it.

You froze, swallowed a hesitant hello, hand reached for his, "It's is very nice to meet you," His hand melded in yours, his thumb rubbed the back of your hand in small delicate circles, "Mr. Robitaille"

"Daniel works just fine." He flashed a bright smile, his eyes twinkled as they stared into yours.

"Daniel," you bite your lip, "It's nice to meet you, Daniel." and curtseyed.

He led you along a light dirt path adjacent to the abundant apple trees. The birds in the trees sang a beautiful melody, they danced between the trees, the songs becoming more jovial as you and Daniel walked.

"You'll be working for the next three weeks, Thursdays," He waved to one of the workers picking apples, "Fridays," He nodded at a male with a wheelbarrow full of apples, "and Saturdays." He placed his large hand on your upper back, "If that is alright with Mr. Heelshire?"

You squeaked at the mention of Brahms, "Ah, yes,"

"Hesitation my dear, would he not be so accepting of a free woman working where she pleases?"

You shook your head, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "It's not that, he just..."

"He doesn't know." Daniel finished for you with a knowing laugh.

You shied away from his words, eyes took in the mass of workers, happily picking apples, chatting with one other, the made it look easy being up twenty feet high on the ladder to pick the apples.

"Pray tell," Daniel removed his hand from your upper back, "Why do you need this job?"

"Well, money." You said earnestly. "I could use the extra money is all."

"For family?" He asked, accepting an apple from one of his workers. He admired the deep red color, "A gift for Mr. Heelshire?"

You wrung your hands together. You chocked in a breath, "It's private."

Daniel stopped, a low chuckle as you had noticed he stopped. He grinned as you fiddled with your fingers, face turned to the ground, a coy smile over your delicate features.

"What's his name?" Daniel stepped to you, his baritone sent a shiver down your spine. "I'd like to hear it be spoken from such shy lips." Daniel rolled the apple in his hand, nudged it towards you, gesturing for you to take it.

You hesitated, your hands shook as you tentatively grabbed the apple. You stared at the red fruit, the color deep and rich, "His name is Daniel Cain, well, Dan, he goes by Dan."

A startled laugh erupted from Daniel. You jumped, eyes darted to the workers around you, their eyes fell upon Daniel. "Do tell, does this Dan Cain happen to be studying at University of London?"

You stammered out, "Yes,"

"How admirable. So tell me, a gift for the young man?"

"No, it's." You roll the apple in your hand, you looked up at Daniel, "A new dress, I wish to look beautiful, well," You grimaced, "At least while with him."

Daniel frowned, his hand reached for yours, you gasped as he held firm, "Pardon for being cliche, but you are already beautiful, How your hair shines in the sun, to how the sun lights up your eyes, your timid nature is quite endearing." He winked at you.

"Come," Daniel gestured, "I shall introduce you to Carrie, she'll be your site boss for the next three weeks."

You jump from the front door slams open, Brahms shouting as he entered, "Please come to the foyer, my love."

You cringe, the nickname spills so easily from him, saying it like it was second nature, "Yes, Sir, be there soon."

"This instant, my love. I need you here."

Your eyes linger on the half-set table, too busy with your dancing and reminiscing to fully finish your job. "Coming, Sir!"

You walk out of the drawing-room, feet picking up pace as you make your way down the narrow hall, the green carpet embroidered with gold string, bought in Egypt, fairly recently. The walls a dark wood, matching the soil in the garden. The small lamps light up the hallway in a yellow hue. The walls lined with portraits of Heelshires past, their eyes unnerved you with every quick walkthrough you made through the hallway.

Brahms sighs and lets his shoulders relax as you step into view. He removes his jacket, tossing it on the coat rack, "Are the Victorian sandwiches done? Is the Ginger Beer ready?" He asks while loosening his tie, his adam's apple bobbed, "Hm?"

You wince "I was a little distracted, I'm terribly sorry, Sir."

"Brahms, we've been over this, my love, you may call me Brahms."

"Sorry, Brahms." You choke out his name, "Is there anything you need of me at this moment?" You place a warm smile over your face, eyes looking at him as he took off his custom-made shoes.

"Is it so bad for a man to want a woman to greet him when he's come after a hard day's work?" His bright smile made rock in place, heart thumping rapidly in your chest. "You know how good it feels to see your warm face as I get home?"

"I can't say I do." You answer earnestly.

"Do you not feel a sense of joy as I come home?"

You squint your eyes, gaze adverting his, you cough "Yes, I do." You look back at him, "I am simply your maid, Si-Brahms." You gesture to him to follow you down the hall, "I feel great joy when I see you come home to your...home."

"Our home. This place is just as much mine as it is yours." Brahms steps in front of you, gesturing for you to follow him. "You sleep here, eat here, are here every weekend..." He glances at the paintings in the dimly lit hall, "I mean, you must like it if you are here in your free time."

You flinch, nails scratching in the back of your hand, "Uhm, Yes."

Brahms reaches the table as he stares back at you, his eyes narrow, "Sit." He pulls out the ornate chair, his hand padding down the expensive leather, "Enjoy lunch with me."

You smooth your dress from behind as you sit, scooting up as he pushed you closer to the table. Brahms rounded the table, a jovial smile as he sat himself across from you, delicately placing a napkin on his lap.

"Now, how has your day been?" He starts, shoving a victoria sandwich in his mouth, rolling his eyes in ecstasy, "Mhm, my love this is delicious, you outdid yourself."

You giggle, shaking your head, "No, Brahms it's nothing. Just same old same old."

"You sell yourself too short." Brahms clears his throat, "This weekend," He wiped his hands of crumbs, "My son is coming home, he hasn't been excelling at school like he should be," He took a sip of the ginger beer, an approving smile after he gulped, "So I shall be sending him to a nearby crammer school."

You nod, "I'm sure in the end it'll work out for the best." He sips the beer, letting the taste linger on your tongue, "After all, probably be for the best he comes back home. I can imagine boarding school can be isolating after a death," You froze, eyes wide in panic as you glance at Brahms, "I'm so sorry." You place down the glass of beer.

Brahms laughs, the corner of his lips pulling up, "No no, don't be sorry, it's very true." He sips again, "Very true. Ever since Gerti crossed onto the other side, little Lawrence has been lost." He coughs, "He'll be more than thrilled to be home, hid loving father, his second favourite lady ready to greet him with open arms."

"This weekend?" you ask, "This Saturday?"

Brahms stills, his eyes squint, "Yes, I already said this weekend."

Your throat constricts, a burning sensation spreads throughout you. You look away, eyes catching on the ornate couch.

Brahms reaches his hand out to you, his thumb running on the back of your hand, "My love, what?" He raises his brow, leaning in, "What's the problem with Saturday?"

"I have something private to attended to." You state, eyes falling back to his, "I won't be here to greet Lawrence." You swallow, the burning searing through you, "I'm terribly sorry."

Brahms stood up, one stride and he was at your side, "Tell, why won't you be there? It mustn't be family matters, they live awfully far away, days by train." He leans in, "Something in town perhaps?"

You nod with a smile, "I shall be away this coming Friday and days thereafter, a flower picking job just a town over, the lady of the manor is allowing me room and board, very sweet of her." You sip more ginger beer, hands shaking as you brought the glass to your chapped lips.

Brahms places his large hand on your upper back, "Flower picking job?"

"Yes."

"What flower?"

"Excuse me?"

"What flower are you picking?" Brahms leans in closer to you, his other hand resting on the table, "I'm sure you know."

You grin at him, "Narcissus, beautiful flowers." You gulp back more ginger beer.

"That's a nice flower. Beautiful." He leans in closer, his eyes holding a critical glint. "Pray tell, how will you be picking a flower out of season?" He smiles down at you, licking his teeth, his hand clenches around yours. Your mouth agape, breath held. You choke as he leans closer to you, "I know apples are in season."

The air felt thick, the air from your lungs fell from your mouth in rapid breaths, the grandfather clock ticked, each one was felt in your spine. You jump as the grandfather clock thunders out his five pm chime.

You breathe in, "It's only for three weekends," You start, "No more than that."

Brahms chuckles, his fingers pressing into your back, "No more than that...why?" He rests his elbow on the table, chin in his palm, "Why the work when I could easily up your pay."

Your lips in a tight line, eyes dry, bugging out as you stare into his, "Savings." You lie.

Brahms slides his arm around your shoulder, his bicep flexing on the back of your neck, his hand running up and down your arm. He leans into your ear, "If by savings, do you mean Dan?"

#Brahms heelshire #Brahms x reader #Brahms x you #Brahms imagine #Brahms heelshire x reader #Brahms heelshire x you #Brahms heelshire imagine #Female reader #sfw #Candyman #daniel robitaille #Victorian era #Victorian AU #edwardian era #Dain Cain

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i-dreamed-i-had-a-son · 4 years

Text

Can I just say Bones does not get nearly enough credit for how well he reads people?? Like, we all forget that he is not only a doctor, he's a psychiatrist as well. And not only is he insanely good at reading Jim, we also see him read and understand Spock (who is his opposite and with whom he frequently disagrees) and push him when it's necessary. It's Bones' words that make some of the most powerful exchanges out of all the 79 original episodes. Here is proof (and there's a lot of it):

Balance of Terror

Jim's doubting himself and is dealing with a lot of stress because of all his responsibilities and the burden of making decisions, and asks Bones, "What if I'm wrong?" This is an incredibly vulnerable moment for Jim, who always has to be strong, and when Bones starts to answer, Jim gets up and says "I wasn't really expecting an answer."

Bones immediately puts his hand on his shoulder, stops him, and says, "Well, I've got one." Completely unexpected by Jim. Bones starts off by saying "This isn't something I'd usually tell a customer," then gives the speech we all probably know, about how there are millions of possible earth-like planets, "but in all of that, and possibly more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Kirk."

Let's break down why this is so good. First, Bones lets Jim know that he sees how vulnerable Jim is being and that he's talking to Jim as a friend. He recognizes that Jim's identity is fundamentally tied to his role as a captain, and also acknowledges how deep Jim's doubts are going, and at the same time reminds Jim that he is the one in control of himself (something very grounding for Jim) and he is not alone (because Bones is supporting him). Most of all, he doesn't dwell on the vulnerability Jim's expressing, but encourages him to take action, which is Jim's natural bent. He perfectly adapts to how Jim functions and knows what to say to get him back into a place where he can do what he does best: lead.

The Ultimate Computer

Jim has been been feeling insecure and threatened this entire episode, because a computer may take away his role as captain. Twice he seeks out Bones for comfort. First, he tells him that he has concerns about the computer, but worries about his motives. "You have my psychological profiles; am I afraid? Of losing my job? ...Daystrom's right, I could do a lot of other things. Am I afraid of losing the power, the prestige? Am I that petty?"

Bones replies, "Jim, if you're self-aware enough to ask that question, you don't need me to answer it for you. Why don't you ask James T. Kirk? He's a pretty honest guy."

Breakdown: Bones responds beautifully by once again reminding Jim that he knows himself and is in control. That sense of confidence is all Jim is after. He also establishes earlier in the conversation that what Jim is feeling is not unusual and can be understood. Brilliant.

The second time Jim reaches out to Bones (this episode is my favorite for a reason), he's doubting his role even more intensely, having just been blatantly insulted and called useless (affirming his insecurities). He left the bridge, silently, by himself, and even Spock didn't follow him out. Bones knew he needed help and went to him, with some drinks (Jim initially responds that he's not interested in eating--coping by losing interest in food) and a joke and light-hearted attitude, so that Jim can feel comfortable expressing himself. Jim puts on an air of not caring (shutting himself off from his emotions) and says he's never felt so useless, and makes a cynical joke as a toast, "To Captain Dunsel" (the insult from earlier, meaning "unnecessary").

Bones stops him, looks him in the eye, and says "To James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise." Jim says softly, "Thank you, Doctor," and when he downs his glass, Bones follows suit.

There's just so much good about this. Bones seeks him out even when he was trying to isolate himself because he knew Jim tends to distract himself and unhealthily repress things. And he doesn't let Jim get away with being blasé about how he's been hurt, but he doesn't force him to be honest either; instead, he lets Jim know he sees how he's feeling and how deeply he's hurt, and also reaffirms that Bones still cares about, respects, and most of all, believes in him. When Jim starts talking after the drink, Bones just listens and lets him talk, and when Jim responds to the call to the bridge, he follows him out. Back in action, and another job well done.

The Trouble With Tribbles

Just a brief point with this: Spock is just being silent here, which is typical for him. But Bones asks him "What's the matter, Spock?" seemingly out of the blue. Spock responds with, "There's something disquieting about these creatures," which means that he was feeling off, and Bones picked up on it. Bones then makes a joke ("Don't tell me you've got a feeling!") which lets Spock know that Bones sees what he's saying but isn't treating it as unusual (since the joking between them is their normal behavior). And when Spock continues talking, he hears him out (although it eventually degenerates into their typical spat).

All Our Yesterdays

Spock has begun degenerating into a pre-reformed-Vulcan version of himself. He gives up on trying to get back to their proper time and becomes irritable. Bones notices that something's wrong almost immediately.

He starts by asking about Jim (because he knows how deeply Spock cares for him), and Spock responds apathetically. This clearly shocks Bones, who then says "I don't believe it, Spock. It's just not like you to give up trying." When Spock doesn't acknowledge something's off, Bones presses him: "I understand. I never thought I'd see it, but I understand. You want to stay here. In fact, you're highly motivated to stay in this forsaken waste!" Spock deflects again, and Bones keeps pressing, which leads to Spock grabbing him by the neck and saying angrily, "I don't like that. I don't think I ever did, and now I'm sure." Bones simply looks him in the eye and asks calmly, "What's happening to you, Spock?"

Instead of hassling Spock about why he isn't doing more, he focuses on what's wrong with Spock himself, and he clearly has a deep understanding of who Spock really is. He starts by trying to get a feel for Spock's emotional state by going to ground 0: Jim. And he doesn't back down when Spock tries to blow him off.

Seeing that he's getting nowhere, Bones bides his time, and then starts something with Zarabeth, knowing Spock will jump to her defense.

When Spock pins him against the wall, Bones calmly says, "Are you trying to kill me, Spock? Is that what you really want? Think! What are you feeling? Rage, jealousy--have you ever had those feelings before?" Spock is clearly affected by this, and says it's impossible, since he's a Vulcan. Bones sees his opening, saying "The Vulcan you knew won't exist for another 5000 years! Think, man! What's happening on your planet right now, at this very moment?" Spock answers with the facts, and Bones tells him flat-out what's going on: he's reverting. Spock falls quiet, and says, "I've lost myself. I do not know who I am."

Bones is specifically structuring his responses (both here and earlier) to cause Spock to evaluate himself--to think, which has always has grounded Spock. Bones indirectly (so that Spock doesn't feel as threatened by the accusation) indicates that Spock's being too emotional. He wants Spock to see for himself that something's wrong, so Bones asks questions or makes open-ended statements so that Spock will have to respond. He also provides enough evidence (pointing out the emotions Spock is feeling) to prove he has a point and guide Spock towards a conclusion. He's talking Spock through it, using reason and logic, which Spock has always responded to. Bones' questions are also phrased so that the answers are objective facts--he's bringing Spock back to the verifiable, Spock's comfort zone. Finally, he does the analysis for Spock, telling him what's undeniably happening, but leaves the course of action open to Spock, so that he can regain control of himself by deciding how to proceed. Bones smoothly and logically guided Spock to the delicate realization he needed to have.

Of Bread and Circuses

Then of course we have this iconic exchange. Jim's been separated from the both of them and they are all in danger. Spock is pulling at the bars although he knows it will be futile.

Bones calls him out on this, and then thanks him for saving his life. When Spock brushes him off and keeps his walls up, Bones says, "I know why you're not afraid to die, Spock. You're more afraid of living. Every day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip--and let your human half peek out." Spock is silent and looks away, and Bones continues, now smiling slightly: "That's it, isn't it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling." His face makes it clear he's gently baiting Spock, who then looks back at Bones and says, "Really, Doctor?" Bones replies softly, "I know. I'm worried about Jim, too."

First thing: Spock's theme starts playing when Bones corners him. So we're supposed to get that Bones is really laying him bare. But starting from the beginning of the scene, Bones recognizes Spock's anxiety through his illogical behavior. He takes the time to thank Spock for saving his life, in an effort to remind Spock that he is competent and in control--basically, trying to calm Spock down and reassure him. When Spock refuses to deal with his emotions productively, Bones is having none of it, and shows Spock just how much he knows. He can tell Spock isn't worried for himself ("you're not afraid to die") but also is well aware of Spock's actual fears (which are coloring his current behavior towards Bones). Basically, Bones is saying, "this facade of yours can't keep me out. You're understood. You're not alone." Saying it in those terms, though, would just make Spock feel weak for unsuccessfully trying to mask his behavior, so Bones frames it as a gentle challenge. When Spock looks away, he can tell he's hit the nail on the head, and he smiles because he's getting through to him. His face as he says "you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling" telegraphs to the audience that he's not actually serious, but is looking for a response. And he gets it--Spock acknowledges, as Bones had intended, that he is currently dealing with emotions. And that's where Bones wanted to get him, because now that he's admitted it, he can move forward; but Bones doesn't want this admission to go unrewarded, and definitely doesn't want Spock to go on believing that Bones meant what he'd said about not knowing what to do with feelings, so he again tells Spock that he understands what's really going on, but without challenge this time. He just accepts it and reassures Spock that he's not alone: "I know. I'm worried about Jim too." They're in it together, and now that Spock is a little more vulnerable, he's able to see that Bones is right beside him.

So that was a lot, but there is definitely even more. Basically, give Bones the appreciation he deserves, because his emotional intuition is off the charts. (After all, as he is so fond of reminding us, he is a doctor!)

#star trek #star trek tos #spock #jim kirk #bones mccoy #bones #meta #my meta posts #quality meta seal of approval #photoset #kay can i just catch my breath for a second #kay watches tos #1k #this post will be quiet for a while and then suddenly pick up like 200 notes at a time and it makes me really happy to see 😂😂

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sunel0 · 3 years

Text

Steo x His Dark Materials AU for SteoDay2.0 @steoevents

The world is full of Dust.

Dust is invisible for humans in normal circumstances and goes deeper than the reality we see. Dust is everywhere. The borders of one world don't mean much to it.

There are ways in which people can communicate with Dust. Sometimes it's huge, complicated computers. Sometimes it's small golden compass' - the rare alethiometers. Dust never lies, but you need to know how to understand it. The computers take only several years to understand, but it's not very clear. Alethiometers can take a lifetime to learn, but they give direct answers.

Sometimes rare children could read alethiometers just like that, learning anything they want to know from the matter of the universe itself.

11-years-old Stiles was one of those children.

Stiles and his dæmon - an animal that is a part of him but isn't, that is his soul but isn't, that he is bonded with since the moment they appeared in this world - Kira live in Jordan College, Oxford. Stiles is an orphan, and his only relative is his adventures uncle Lord Peter who studies Dust despite this being frowned upon by the Church.

But the Church is also doing its work. It's saving kids from the "sin" that is Dust, since it's attracted to adults more than to kids, by separating kids from their dæmons that still haven't assumed their final form and can change. The Church does it in the far North, under the Northern Lights, where the Dust is the most active, where Stiles' uncle studies it, where the borders between worlds are the thinnest.

Stiles manages to stop the whole thing before he gets separated from Kira, so he doesn't become a walking vegetable like other kids. It's a start.

He's not sure of what, but it's also a start of something when he sees his uncle kill his best friend Scott to create a bridge between worlds.

Stiles can only take his alethiometer and walk the bridge.

***

Theo's father went missing when he was a little boy, and Theo was left taking care of his mother who, as he eventually understood, isn't alright.

12-years-old Theo can't let social services take them apart, so he makes sure no-one knows. He learns how to be a ghost while staying right in front of people, how to hide in plain sight.

But when people come after his father's letters that his mother still has, he can't hide. He manages to hide his mother, but he can't hide himself.

It's an accident, really, that he kills one of the men. But it helps him to run away with the letters. He's not sure why they are so important, but he is sure he can't let those people have them.

And when he has nowhere to go, he follows a cat that leads him to a strange rip in the air. Like a window but with no wall and leading to a completely different world.

It's not like Theo has much of a choice where to go.

***

When Stiles meets a weird kid without a dæmon, he's surprised to see that he's not a walking vegetable. The kid is surprised to see a talking animal that can change its form, but can't walk far away from Stiles.

Stiles isn't sure if he can trust Theo, so he asks his alethiometer.

What is he? A friend or an enemy?

He is a murderer.

This is how Stiles knows he is safe with Theo.

They can't go back to either of their worlds, so they explore their new world, inhabited only by other kids who don't like them until Theo doesn't get Æsahættr - a knife so fine, it can cut the matter between the world's itself.

Now they can do what alethiometer told Stiles to do and what Theo planned from the very beginning - they can look for Theo's father who got lost somewhere in the worlds during his expedition to the North.

And that's what they do.

***

What they don't know is that the witches of the North have prophecies about their destiny.

About how the second fall of humanity is coming.

And how Stiles will cause it.

#teen wolf #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #steoday #steoday2.0 #my fandom #my aesthetic stuff #I have no idea why I decided that making characters other characters' dæmons was a good idea sorry<3 #also the ending is sad actually<3 #and yes I made Kate and Peter Stiles parents I'm terrible like that<3 #and I know it's a vague description but it's so hard to make sense of it all and make it short sorry #long post #also in case anyone got interested in the books: they were banned by Vatican for a reason #maybe it matters to someone #like #the God os getting killed in there<3

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter One

Summary: You find yourself abroad in London as the Chief of Pediatrics. Everything has been running smoothly until you are faced with an undiagnosed case and the doctor assigned is anything but willing to face defeat. Will you be able treat the child's unknown disease in time, along while facing uncharted waters with love in the workplace?

Parings: Henry Cavill {Dr. Cavill} x Y/N {F!Reader}

Rating: Overall series 18+ only, Chapter is PG

Word count: 2200 +/-

Tags: @evansamericanass @meowpurrbooks @lilithpaijiee @pterodactylterrace

A/N: Trying something new at writing Henry fanfic. IDK if it’s any good, but either way wanted to start writing. LMK if you're interested, comments and tags welcomed! 💜

P.S. I am no means in any medical field or sorts, so if I get something incorrect on a term or process, bear with me xo.

----------------------------------------------------

You knew that it was a gamble moving to the UK for the Chief of Pediatrics position. But it was time for a change. You needed to leave Eugene, Oregon. Start fresh. There was too much pain there and you had to get away. So when your cousin, who was a nurse from Brighton informed you that there was a need at her hospital for the highly-visible role, you thought why the hell not? You'd score a free round-trip to England of anything and actually see some family you've never met if it didn't pan out.

Little did you know that you'd fall in love with London: the weather, the people, the imagery of it all. Oregon weather wasn't all too different, so you acclimated well. It had been a few months of you settling in: understanding more of the language barriers despite it still being English. Knackered, cuppa, trollied.

That is until you had a run in with the division chief of Pediatrics, Dr. Cavill. The staff adored the renowned and painstakingly handsome doctor. And while you could appreciate the view as well, you never were on the same page with his ideals. His defiant behavior of undermining your direction of the unit was becoming a thorn in your side.

But this time, this time you'd had enough. He mentioned to a patient's parents, while with the speciality case, the hospital could take on their son's situation as priority and receive around the clock care. You threw down the patient's file on your desk and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was a lost cause, you had looked into the patient ever since you started the role.

The child seemed perfectly healthy and lab tests may show no signs of illness. But the chronic pain and fatigue were unexplainable. You empathized, but the poor child has undergone so many tests that at this point it was about providing facts to the parents. And right now, there was no cause of alarm. You weren’t a Dr. House, this wasn’t television. You didn't have the staff to dive into any research or clinical studies. You had a hospital to run, employees to pay, other lives needed saving.

You picked up the phone to the case nurse on the pediatric floor.

"Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Y/LN. Can you please remind Dr. Cavill of our 5pm? He's late. Thank you."

Slowly hanging up on the phone, you turn back to the patient's file. The boy, Jon Foulger, was just shy of his ninth birthday. No positive results for Lupus or Guillain-Barré syndrome. But This case had been bothering you, poor Jon had been in the hospital for three months and still no progress on a diagnosis. While you were never known to give up on a patient, you knew giving false hope to the parents was detrimental not only to the family, but to the same of the hospital's integrity. You were in a high esteemed role now, you knew that you had to discuss further with Henry on his actions.

Twenty more minutes passed by and you checked your watch. Fuming, you stood up from your desk and headed down to the pediatric floor by the lift.

As you briskly walk down the hall corridors you can't wait to give Cavill a piece of your mind. You turn the corner and ram right into a brick wall, or so you thought. Your hands instinctively pick up and see placed on the doctor's firm chest. You immediately flush and lose composure.

You knew he was a good-looking man, but this up close and personal was a whole other level. His dark hair and curls were fluffy and good enough to touch. His piercing steel blue eyes looked at yours and made immediate contact. His bone structure made the Michaelangelo's David blush.

"My apologies, Dr. Y/LN. Didn't see you there," his voice was like butter.

You straightened out your white coat, "Ahem, yes. Well I seemed to have been lost in thought. My apologies as well."

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, almost an hour ago…" you shifted your weight to stand a bit taller. He towered over you with his muscular frame and height.

"Patient...Jon Foulger. We must discuss the repercussions of your current actions."

"Jon-Jon," he replied stoic.

"Excuse me?"

"He likes to be called Jon-Jon."

"Well yes, let's go to my office and discuss further, please Dr. Cavill."

"As you wish," he replied and pivoted his heel to the nearby lift.

The rise up to the 12th floor was a quiet one, awkward overall as you knew you had to give a coaching and hated the notion. You missed practicing medicine; while you enjoyed the administration of your position, the thrill of helping others and using your hands were erased with cases of employee performance reviews, reports, budgets.

He coughed into his fist and then held his strong hands in place in a clasp.

He finally broke the silence, "Enjoying London?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Have you had any time to take a holiday?"

"Um, no. Been too busy."

"It might do you some good," he replies as he looks to check his watch.

You huff, "Somewhere you need to be, Doctor?"

"No, just checking the time."

His arrogance irritated you and now you weren't feeling as badly to give him his coaching.

The lift opened as you arrived at the floor and he held out the door for you to exit first. You nod and walk to your office, your kitten heels clicked on the hospital's linoleum floor and the sound echoed through your ears.

As you both enter your office you stride quickly to your desk to assume dominance of the room.

Henry stood near the doorway, admiring your photos and certificates on the wall.

"I knew you were American, but Stanford Medical? Interesting, thought you were from Oregon. When will you be returning?" You can't read him if that was a compliment or sarcasm.

"Dr. Cavill, would you be so kind to shut the door," you state firmly and sit down, ignoring his comment about your return to the states.

His brow peaks and he nods, turning to close the door.

"Please, have a seat," you say.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," he replies and you know this is going to be a difficult conversation.

"Well this will only take a moment then. Your recent behavior with the Foulger family, while I commend you for your dedication, has been slight askew with the hospital's protocols."

"Is that so?" His voice dropped and his brow arched. "In what way, Dr. Y/LN?"

You cough as the drawl of his mouth turns upward and you can swear there's a smug smirk across his face.

"Well...for one...you've promised around the care of the child. Now simply put, we've exhausted all efforts for a diagnosis and until Jon...Jon-Jon…shows any new symptoms, we are at liberty to provide him comfort care for the remainder of the evening, but he will need to be discharged in the morning. We've exhausted him enough with MRIs, blood tests. I'm at a rock in a hard place, Dr. Cavill."

"The rock or the hard place where you give up on a child's well-being simply because you haven't thought to see him as a person? Rather as a number on your statistical analysis of how functioning this hospital is?"

His eyes pierce through you and make your knees grow weak. The nurse staff usually talks about him being a cuddly bear, always making the children laugh and smile. But this man before you, why he's no cuddly bear. He was a beast of a man. A grizzly in fact.

"Now see here, I will let you know that this case is very important to me. All the children are. But what you fail to see is that for whatever reason you've gravitated to this particular case, you're chasing something that doesn't exist."

His broad shoulders and strong neck tense at your words. He blinks methodically, as if he's scoping out his prey. No, don't let his charm and rugged good looks distract you. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants and you are a woman who knows perfectly what to do with that.

"And I believe you're blind, Doctor."

"Excuse me?" Your voice was shrill and short. "This is borderline insubordination. I'd be careful with your next words, Cavill."

"Pardon my frankness, Dr. Y/LN, but I've been here longer and know these patients in and out," his voice raised and you could see the hint of a vein showing on his thick neck. "Some of the children come from very poor and debilitating environments. We can't just cast them off once a diagnosis doesn't stick simply because we need the bed or we're done trying!"

"DR. CAVILL," you exclaim and let out an exasperated sigh. His demeanor changed and his upper lip curved slightly.

“Dr. Y/LN. With all due respect, I think you’re making the wrong judgement call here. Things are not adding up with Jon-Jon, if we just give it a few more days...I feel like we’re making progress and I’ve labored enough research into it-”

"Again, while I appreciate your passion...”

“Passion which you need to show for the patient-”

You raise your hand to silence him, “This is not up to you, Dr. Cavill. As Chief of Pediatrics, this is my call. We will discharge Jon tomorrow if he does not show any new symptoms. If you disobey any further protocols, I will have no other choice but resort to disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

You press your hands on your desk and lean inward, portraying your stance.

"Perfectly," he responded.

"And another thing, I -" you start, but he turns and abruptly walks out of your office, leaving your door open.

The nerve! Did he really just do that? Where does he think he's going? Didn't I just tell him I'd resort to disciplinary action?!

You rush out of your office and you see him striding through the hall. His strong posture, shoulders back eluded to years of boarding school perhaps or military. You noticed his fists were clenched and it gave you slight satisfaction that you chipped away ever so slightly at his ego.

It was going to take a lot more than that to send you packing, you thought.

----------------

The next day came and went. You had confirmed that Jon-Jon was discharged with the floor nurse and while you were relieved to have handled that quite professionally, you knew it did not bear well with the rest of the staff.

You were still getting your feet wet and learning more about your team. It was solid overall, many years of expertise collectively, but they treated you like the outsider you were. No requests to meet for lunch or drinks after work. No camaraderie birthday cards seeking your signature or date night advice. Just the normal days in and out, pulling many late nights in your office, up to the point of exhaustion. You'd collapse in your double bed after work, stare at the ceiling of the small room you rented from your cousin, Laura, and try to drown out all the bustle of seven people in the same 3 bedroom flat.

Just like any other day, You sat alone during lunch. But that never really was ever a bother being used to it now. You were excited about an audiobook you were meaning to dive into and right when you were about to use your airpods, that's when you noticed him enter the cafeteria.

His presteen, crisp white lab coat was tight around his build. You could tell he took fitness seriously and wondered what he was hiding underneath it all. You unknowingly licked your lips as you watched him search for a fruit out of the bowl off the commons counter. Curious to know what he fancied: was he into a sweet apple or something more tart like cherries.

He picked up a peach and squeezed it with his massive hand, making it look quite comical considering his size. His eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, trying to now draw any attention to yourself. You fumbled with your phone as you connected to the audiobook and heart his footsteps approached your empty table.

"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and inviting. Not at all like the day before in your office.

You play coy and don't bother to look up, fidgeting with your sandwich.

"Hello," you reply distantly. He made you nervous. Would he bring up yesterday's conversation? Will he continue to look that delectable each day?

He smirked and took a bite of the fuzzy peach. There was a slight crunch as he dug his pearly whites into the rounded fruit. The velvet and thin layer of skin eased off and entered his mouth; he chewed slightly and let the piece swirl around with his thick tongue.

You peered to look at him and his stare hadn't relented. He took another bite. This time the luscious juice slips out of the white-yellow fleshed fruit and down slightly on his chin. Oh, to be that piece of fruit and have him ravish you that way. How he’d expertly use his hands over you and taste you with those lips.

He can tell you're still distant, however he notices you're unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He walks over, closer to you now, and you can smell his cologne: a woody aromatic scent tied with a hint of suede. It's downright delicious and with the mix of the peach, your senses are in overdrive.

What is it with this man and his ability to excite and anger you all at once? You not only want to put him into his place, you want to do so right here on the cafeteria table and have your way with him.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" He smiles devilishly and places the half eaten fruit on the table next to your phone and walks away.

Your cringe and use all your might to not look back at him. He's going to make this very hard for you, very hard indeed.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fics #romance #london #Healing Hands #enemies to lovers #doctor romantic

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

Okay SO--

Since nobody wanted to answer me right now and I was dying to write, I wrote beginning's for BOTH of my ideas. God almighty I really hope I didn't just start two different stories running at the same time.....NO. NO I WILL NOT. You have to CHOOSE which one you get now, and which one you get later.

The first one is called "Caught In The Storm" and the second one.....I can't think of a pithy title right now.

So...yeah. CHOOSE.

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@wanniiieeee

@aprildecker-blog

@milkshqke

@lolliepopsicle

@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

PS- For the first one, you really need to have heard or listen to "Caught In The Storm" By Katherine McPhee as heard on SMASH.

"Caught In The Storm"

“Okay I want you guys to be COMPLETELY honest, be brutally honest,” You instructed the group as Kelsey sat at the piano. They all agreed and yelled cheers as you began to sing:

You can push me away

I can take it

I can make you a promise

and break it

We know the way it goes by now

Running off just to see

if I chase you

I pretend I know how to replace you

Still we get tangled up somehow

You danced around the stage, singing happily to your “family”, that basically consisted to the entire NYC SVU squad and your two best friends, Kenneth and Kelsey.

Hear it thunder

And I wonder

How long can I hang on

I'm caught in the storm

I'm caught in the rain

I'm caught in the rush that hides this pain

I'm ready to drown

But it's coming down

But I feel so alive

Just let me go

Just walk away

If you love someone you never let them stay

Caught in the storm

You didn’t have the best family life growing up. Your dad was out of the picture, your mom worked 3 jobs just to keep a roof over your head, so you were alone a LOT of the time. You and your next door neighbor Kenny had become fast friends, and often his dad Fin would let you stay for dinner, even sometimes overnight if your mom was going to be really late.

As the bars on The Bowery are closing

You arrive at the door standing frozen

You say you thought you'd find me here

Tell me how I begin to forget you

When you keep coming back and I let you

Love me until you disappear

From then on, even when you went through high school and college, Fin was your “dad”. And when he became a detective at SVU, you’d often visit him because you didn’t live next door to him anymore and he seemed to ALWAYS be working.

I'm caught in the storm

I'm caught in the rain

I'm caught in the rush that hides this pain

You had quickly been “adopted” by Olivia Benson, and the other members of the squad. However, people began to shuffle in and out of the unit, the only consistency being your “mom” and “dad”. Currently, your “extended family” consisted of Nick Amaro, Sonny Carisi, Amanda Rollins and Rafael Barba, the ADA that often worked the SVU cases in court.

I'm ready to drown

But it's coming down

But I feel so alive

It had always been your dream to be a famous singer, but so far the closest thing you had to fame was being adored at Karaoke Nights at every club and bar you could find. But now, this was your big break. Someone at one of those karaoke nights owned a small up and coming bar/club, real nice and classy, and he wanted live music. A house singer, to be exact. Someone to sing there EVERY night, be adored ALL the time. Your big audition was tomorrow morning, and the “gang” had all agreed to come down and listen to your audition song at the club.

Just let me go

Just walk away

If you love someone

You never let them stay

Caught in the storm

You had been making sure you made eye contact with everyone during the song, dancing and twirling on the stage gleefully. You were losing yourself in the song, the lyrics speaking to you, as the bridge came up.

Let me wash away

You can find me after the flood

Let me wash away

The piano cut out for a moment after the crescendo, lightly dancing notes out of it now, leaving you in your head about the song’s meaning.

Caught in the storm

Caught in the rain

Caught in the rush that hides this pain

You didn’t even think, you just sang the last lines looking STRAIGHT into Rafael Barba’s eyes.

If you love someone

You find a way to stay

Caught in the storm

Suddenly you heard Kelsey clear her throat VERY loudly as she played the end of the song and you realized what you had been doing. You quickly looked down at the floor, praying to God no one noticed it.

Hmmm…..

You sang the last note to the floor, then looked up with the biggest fake smile you could and curtsied awkwardly while you turned to Kelsey and nodded for her to follow you as you bolted backstage.

“Tell me you didn’t notice anything at the end,”

“Oh you mean when you basically stared holes into the ADA’s eyes when you sang YOU LOVE SOMEONE?” She asked. “Oh yeah no, totally unnoticeable,” she added sarcastically.

“Fuuuuccccccccckkkkkkk…..”

“Y’all, WHAT was that?!” Kenny suddenly came from offstage to join the conversation. “Y/N, Girl were you drinking before this or just taking stupid pills?”

“I can’t...I’m not going to deal with this right now,” You waved them both away and walked out to face your “family”.

“Oooookay well, it’s totally getting late and I appreciate you guys hearing me out, get home safe!” You awkwardly spit out a million words a minute, looking around the room above everyone’s eyelines. It was like Stevie Wonder was giving them a goodbye spiel.

You quickly turned on your heels to bolt backstage and wait it out until they left, but the last voice you wanted to hear spoke up.

“Don’t you wanna hear our opinions, baby girl?”

You sighed and turned slowly to face all of them, their faces mostly super uncomfortable. You looked to Fin, who had made you stay.

“Yeah, sure-- go for it,” You threw your hand up dejectedly and waited for the drop.

“Well I’d say it was excellent, except for the part where you were eye fucking Barba,”

And there it was.

“FIN!” Olivia hit him, the rest of the squad squirming uncomfortably. You didn’t dare to see what Rafael was doing.

“Yep, there it is,” You rolled your eyes, starting to walk away.

“Where are you going Y/N, we’re gonna talk about this!” He started angrily walking after you.

“Talk about WHAT, Fin?” You spun around.

“Have you been screwing Barba behind my back?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“WHAT?! NO!” You gasped in horror.

“NO,” Rafael added almost on top of you.

“He has nothing to do with it, Fin,” You assured him.

“Good because you and him, NEVER gonna happen,” He gestured between the two of you.

“Okay FIRST of all, I love you Fin but I’m a grown woman and you can’t tell me who to date!” You scoffed.

“Oh please Y/N you’re 22, you’re still my baby--”

“And SECONDLY,” You interrupted him. “I’m not ACTUALLY your daughter, so you don’t get an opinion,”

“And THIRDLY, I really, REALLY don’t want to have a long conversation with ANY of you about how I just professed my love for Rafael on--”

“Love? You’re in love with him now?” Fin interjected again, turning to Rafael. “What did you do?!”

“Oh my god, FIN,” You stood in between them. “He didn’t do anything, this is all on me,”

“This is insane, you are NOT--” Fin tried to start bitching at you once again, but Kenny came to the rescue.

“Dad, just let them be. She’s right this ain’t any of our business, no matter how angry you are right now okay? Just...let’s go, yeah?”

“Yeah alright…” Fin nodded to Kenny, then turned to you. “We’re going to talk tomorrow,”

“Can’t wait,” You muttered under your breath as they walked outside. Finally over that little debacle you started to make a beeline for the backdoor when you heard another voice you really didn’t want to.

“Y/N….Don’t you think we need to talk?”

You turned back to see Rafael standing there with a concerned look on his face. Awesome. You looked behind him noticing the rest of the squad waving goodbye at you and excusing themselves, leaving you and him alone.

“You know I really need to get some sleep before tomorrow, and--” You started to walk away, but Rafael grabbed your hand.

“Y/N…”

“What?!” You spun around again, now angry and tears in your eyes.

“What, Rafael? Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘Gee you know what Y/N I didn’t realize it until this very second, but I’m in love with you too!’, then I REALLY don’t need to hear it, trust me,”

“Y/N come on, just talk to me,”

“Rafael I get it,” You bit back tears.

“You’re too old, or Fin’s too much of your friend, and I never should have said anything, but I did. But I’ve got the biggest audition of my LIFE tomorrow. So what I’d really like to do right now is go home, cry, drink and forget this night ever happened so that I can just focus on that, can I do that? Please?”

“I…” Rafael dropped your hand, but still looked at you with puppy dog eyes. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Thank you,” You nodded to Kelsey who followed you out the back door, leaving Rafael alone in the dark and empty club.

----------

"Role Model" or TBD

“Shit, he’s going to kill me,” You muttered as you glanced at your phone. You were already twenty minutes late to Kenneth's party, and you were still stuck in traffic about a block away.

“You know what, I can walk from here,” You nodded to your UBER driver and exited the car, running down to the bar. You finally made it, glancing at the neon sign: BUDDY’S. It was you and your best friend’s favorite bar, and now you were late for his party.

You quickly gave the doorman your name and he nodded you in. The place was packed, per usual. You didn’t see anyone you recognized so you headed up to the bar and ordered a Porn Star Martini while you texted Kenny to see where he was.

“Oh my God do you think she knows?”

“She showed up so I’m guessing not,”

You glanced over to see two classmates from your law school a few feet away. They were clearly drunk and speaking louder than they believed they were.

“I can hear you, morons,” You rolled your eyes as the bartender handed you your drink.

“Oh! Y/N,” The first one giggled as they both stumbled over. “Sorry, we didn’t see you there,”

“Right,” You gave them a sarcastic smile. “And what exactly don’t I know?”

“That--” The other one started, but someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Kenneth! Happy birthday! I’m so sorry I’m late it’s--”

“Please don’t kill me,” He cut you off.

“...Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“No, I’m saying it to you, and I’m saying it again. Please don’t kill me, and I’d like to add I had NO idea this was going to happen,”

“What are you talking about?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I, um-- I invited my dad,”

“You invited your dad, to a gay club?” You sipped your drink with a skeptical look.

“I mean I mentioned it to him, I didn’t think he’d actually show up,”

“Okay so, what? You think your dad’s gonna cramp our style or--”

“He brought his friends,” He added with a very serious tone.

“...What do you mean, he brought his friends?” Your heart started racing.

“What do you think I mean?”

“Hey Hey party people-- OH. Y/N! You came!” Your other best friend Gabi walked up with shots.

“Give me that,” You stole the shot and took it immediately, the familiar burn of vodka travelled down your throat.

“Nice to see you too,” She snorted, then noticed Kenneth’s face. “Oh you told her, didn’t you?”

“Told me what?” You asked, praying to God you didn’t know the answer already.

“I think you know,” Kenneth gave you another apologetic look.

“We’re in the back,” Gabi grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd.

“Who’s we--” You started to ask, but then you saw them. At the back of the club, in a small secluded area with plush couches and a table sat a couple of your mutual friends, his dad Fin Tutola, and the entire squad of NYC SVU.

“I’m going to--” You growled under your breath.

“Please don’t kill me,” He whispered back.

“I won’t if you tell me tweedle dee and tweedle ditz haven’t been running their mouths off back here,”

“NO,” Kenneth almost yelled. “I have kept those vultures away from here all night, but--” He glanced over at the two girls who were obviously failing at flirting with the very gay men at the bar. “You know they’re just waiting to take you down,”

“So we’ll just wait them out,” Gabi shrugged as she came back from the bar with more shots. “Or, y’know shuffle him out the back door,”

“Shut up,” You took another shot from the tray and downed it.

“Are you really sure you wanna--?” Kenneth asked as you downed a second one.

“If I’m about to come face to face with the man of my dreams for the first time ever, YEAH Kenny, I’m pretty sure I do,”

“Man of your dreams,” Gabi scoffed playfully behind you.

“Shut up!” You hit her again. “He’s beautiful, he’s perfect, he’s--”

“Sitting RIGHT there,” Ken gestured to the group of “adults” now very much staring at your trio.

“Show time,” Gabi giggled as you nervously followed Ken to their group.

“Dad, you remember Y/N,” Ken nodded to you.

“Yeah, the lawyer right?” Fin asked, making Rafael’s ears perk up; he stared right into your eyes while you swore up and down you would NOT pass out in front of a whole club full of people.

“Law student,” You nervously responded, trying to keep your eyes on Fin.

“Well this is Rafael, Barba, our ADA. Maybe you’ve heard of him?” As soon as Fin introduced Rafael to your group, Gabi let out a very loud laugh. You elbowed her so hard she almost fell over back into the crowd.

“Sorry…” She made a face at you.

“...Is that a yes?” Fin asked in confusion.

“Nick, Sonny!” Ken suddenly yelled at the two men sitting next to Fin and Barba. “This is my best friend Y/N!”

They both waved politely, but you caught them scanning your body up and down with approving smiles. Had Rafael done that? You had been too embarrassed to look. Did he approve?

“Boy you are so rude, we were in the middle of a--” Fin started again.

“This is Olivia and Amanda, our partners,” Nick suddenly interjected. “Just so you know, they’re not our girlfriends,” He emphasized.

“Subtle, Amaro,” Sonny snickered. “You’ll have to excuse him miss, he’s already had a few,”

“Are we all introduced now? Are we good?” Fin looked at each of his compadres who nodded and went back to their conversation, but you noticed Olivia looking between you and Barba.

“So I’m guessing you do know--”

“Y’know Fin, I think it’s pretty obvious she knows who he is,”

“Liv!” Rafael looked over at her with his mouth agape, shocked she was being so aggressive. “Annnnddd no more drinks for you,” He took the wine out of her hand.

“This cannot be happening…” You looked up at the sky and muttered to no one in particular.

“I’m going to get a refill,” You suddenly excused yourself, having downed your beverage in 2.5 seconds. As soon as you were gone, Kenneth hit his dad.

“Really, dad?”

“What? Does she not like him or something?” Fin was completely obtuse.

“Oh no she REALLY likes him--” Gabi started to laugh again but stopped immediately when she saw Kenneth’s death stare.

“I don’t understand how she even knows who I am?” Rafael looked between the two of them.

“Law school, term papers, I don’t know,” Kenneth shrugged, not entirely sure how you got your obsession with Rafael Barba started. “All I know is that she has a huge thing for you, and she told me that in confidence,”

“Barba?” Nick suddenly yelled, only hearing the last part of the conversation.

“She has a thing for Barba?!”

Were the first words to greet you as you rejoined the group, new drink in hand.

“Oh my GOD, Kenny?!” You screeched. “You--You TOLD them?”

Your eyes darted between Kenny, Amaro and Barba. You didn’t know what to do, or say. You wanted to scream, throw up and run away all at the same time.

“NO!!! No, Y/N look I--”

“Save it,” You threw your fresh drink in Kenny’s face and stormed back into the crowd.

“Thanks, Amaro,” Kenny sighed as he grabbed napkins to dry his face. Rafael looked to where you had run off to, then to Kenny, then to Fin.

“Should I--?”

“Oh good GOD no, please don’t,” Kenny assured him. “I’ll go get her, it’s my fault,” He sighed and ran through the crowd after you.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu fanfiction #tinyboxxtink

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