testing-carraville-tag

[testing-carraville]

All my carraville fics are under the tag my-fics to make it easier to find them :)

[testing-carraville]

It shouldn't be so hard — or at least, it should sometimes be easy — but they didn't work like that, did they?

When he was too far apart, it felt like a recrimination, a loss he couldn't bear too long (how used had he become to a friendly arm over his, to giggles on his ear, to that fucking Manc voice?).

ANd being too close had its own problems — the temptation of mroe, of touching a beloved face, of tracing away worry lines, as if love could undo years of loneliness by itself, as if his love was worth something.

It wasn't, but still, he wished...

[oddyranks-deactivated20220812]

This Is Not Instagram: A Special Broadcast

What's up motherfuckers?! I've been a Tumblr user on and off for many years and I just wanted to take the time to make this important announcement. This is just a friendly reminder to any/all new users that this IS NOT Instagram.

In fact, your "likes" do not make one single fuck of a difference. Even more so, only "liking" content that you thoroughly enjoyed is a direct slap in the face to the original poster who took minutes, hours and even days out of there time to share a piece of themselves with you. Some users even create content for other users such as requested stories, art, etc. and to disrespect them with only a "like" is unacceptable Tumblr etiquette.

You see boys and girls, many a year ago, Tumblr didn't even have a "like" button. You RE-BLOGGED the content you enjoyed and that's how the post STAYS ALIVE and keeps on tumbling through the site, hence the name Tumblr.

So, if you see a post and you're just like "man, fuck yeah this is great good job creator" don't just like it so that it gets buried in your endless list of likes that no one gives a fuck about. RE-BLOG it, not only to show love to the creator but to keep the post tumbling. Don't let the good things die. Re-blogs are everything on this platform NOT LIKES! If everyone only liked posts, this platform would be free of any original content and be a dead zone.

Assuming that no one wants that, and considering that Facebook is trash along with many other social media platforms AND the simple fact that Tumblrs cult of misfits love it here, PLEASE

BE KIND, RE-BLOG WHAT YOU LOVE, SAVE A PLATFORM

You may now continue with your usual scrolling.

[testing-carraville]

If your tumblr is empty, I will block you. Not because I necessarily need you to reblog my stuff, but because I don't know if you are a person or a porn bot, and like every tumblr user, I dislike the bots here.

[testing-carraville]

Memory

He didn't have Jamie's memory, his supernatural recall for small moments, the way he could remember statistics from years, decades ago, down to the details.

He cared, but not enough to fix them into his mind, carve their own space into his brain so deep he could recall it without thinking.

Not like the small details he remembered reading in Jamie's autobiography, his confession he worried about his arms (his scars).

And if it became a routine? To kiss his boyfriend's arms, to go down his belly, lavish the old silver lines with attention — it was because of them he had Jamie, and the miracle he was, that he was alive and there — and whispering ridiculous, sweet compliments, watching as Jamie's skin pinked under his blush and pleasure, getting him to understand how precious he was, how loved.

Gary didn't say the words often — was almost allergic to them, in fact. But Jamie deserved to hear them, no matter his embarrassment, or how hard it was to get them out of his mouth, where they seemed to accumulate like rocks in a quarry, imperfect leavings when you needed perfection — still, he tries, with rough words to beloved ears, soft hands on blessed scars, trying to turn himself into a haven, like Jamie was his.

And feeling the heartbeat close to his slow, muscles loosing tension, breathing calming down, he kept speaking, moving them to bed, to where Jamie could rest comfortably while he guarded his dreams, vowing to do what he could for him.

[abandonedtimemachine-deactivate]

Carraville Discord server

Our own little blanket fort! It is now a thing!

In order to join you need a Discord account (link, it’s free to create & use, only some extra features are premium) and use this server invite link. 

Don’t be shy, come squeal with us 😊

[leclercx]

Carraville + joy for @carraville-adm

I was mulling over this prompt while watching the news about the uk government collapsing, and somehow an AU with running-for-MP!Gary and his-campaign-manager!Jamie was born. Also they talk about their feelings, which might be the bigger AU actually. Thanks for the prompt, hope you enjoy!

-

“Do you think we’ll do it?” Gary asks him, when it’s just the two of them left in the conference room.

All the rumblings are that the final results are due to be announced within the hour, and everyone else—party officials, friends, family—has already left for the main ballroom, waiting to celebrate (or suffer) as a collective group. But Gary, ever the contrarian, is still in here—so Jamie is too.

“I’m your campaign manager. It’s literally in my job description to tell you we will,” Jamie replies, even though he knows Gary won’t accept that as an answer.

Still, he expects Gary to huff and roll his eyes, not fix him with the kind of deadly serious look that pins him right to the spot. A stare worthy of an MP, Jamie thinks with pride, remembering just how much work went into crafting and perfecting this particular expression.

“You were my friend first, James,” Gary says, and Jamie’s glad he’s still sitting because his whole body just sort of melts at the knees—even now, even after all these years—at hearing his name said low and gravelly in that stupid Manc voice. “And as a friend, what do you think?”

He sounds far too forlorn for the night of his ascendancy into political power.

“I said I’d make you Prime Minister, Gary. Wouldn’t have even bothered if I didn’t think you could become a measly MP first.” They are both well aware, having shed thousands of hours of blood and sweat to prove it, that becoming any kind of government official is a difficult and grueling task—but Gary cracks a smile, and that’s all Jamie was aiming for anyway.

“Should I be worried about finding a new campaign manager if it doesn’t go well for us tonight?” Gary stands from his chair, wincing subtly enough that most people wouldn’t even notice.

Jamie notices. Jamie also isn’t most people.

“Should I be worried about finding a new candidate to prop up?” He glances theatrically Gary’s left knee, which has long been the troublemaker, but lets it go when Gary only frowns a little, as though he’s genuinely been wondering whether Jamie would turn traitor and find a different politician to devote every waking minute of his life to. As if he would, as if he even could. “You do know I’d resign if we don’t win. If a team gets relegated they usually bring in a new manager to tackle the promotion campaign.”

“Don’t you dare bring football into this, the last thing I wanna think about tonight is United playing the Europa League,” Gary retorts, then chews at his lip the way he always does when he’s hesitating. Jamie waits him out, knows he’s never been one to hem and haw over his words for long. “What if I didn’t want someone new?” Gary says at last, very quietly. “What if I just wanted—”

Gary trails off and shakes his head, making himself very busy adjusting his already-perfectly-knotted tie (Jamie would know, he tied it), but Jamie can’t unhear what he said.

And it’s—going over in sharpie what they’ve only danced around with pencil before, the idea that maybe they’re more than just college friends turned professional partners, that maybe something deeper has settled down and grown roots when they weren’t looking.

Or it’s just Gary having grown attached to his particular brand of cheerful criticism and surly advice. It’s probably just that.

Probably.

So he tackles that angle first. “Gary, we need politicians like you. And if I can’t get you into Parliament, you have to find yourself someone better who can. You need to do what’s best for you and your career.”

A beat.

“The best thing for me has always been you.”

The “Gaz” that comes out in response is shaky and breathless, punched from deep inside him without any part of his conscious mind actually forming the word.

Are they doing this? Maybe they’re doing this. They might be doing this.

Gary looks him dead in the eye, and there isn’t a single shred of politician in the stare this time. This one is all Gary, sharp and intense and strangely raw.

And then Gary leans forward and hugs him.

Oh. Oh.

He can count on one hand, maybe even one finger, the number of times that’s happened before, and Jamie’s mind—blinks, shutting down for a moment before roaring back at twice the intensity. This close, he can feel the warmth and shape of Gary’s body, can feel every little point where they’re touching from knee to forehead, can feel the rise and fall of Gary’s chest against his own, can feel the tickle of Gary’s exhale against his cheek when runs a hand down his back.

So they’re definitely doing this.

It’s a heady feeling, like the fizzing rush of a strong drink mixed with the gentle warmth of a bowl of soup. He can’t describe it better than that—he’s not the wordsmith of the team, that’s what they have speechwriters for. All he knows is that Gary’s stubborn and obsessive and nit-picky and such a goddamn control freak, and Jamie loves him in a way he doesn’t even have words to explain.

Only emphatic four-letter ones, which he probably shouldn’t be using right as he’s about to become arm candy to an honest-to-god Member of Parliament.

Although really, the results have never mattered less. This moment, this might be all he needs for the rest of forever—this is pure, utter joy.

Plus maybe a kiss. (Another time, perhaps)

They pull apart, and Jamie grins. “Forget the election, I’m handing in my resignation right now.”

“What?” Gary still has a dopey look on his face, like sustained positive human contact might have actually broken him, and he’s never looked more kissable in his entire life.

Jamie pushes that thought away. Somebody could walk in any moment to drag them to the ballroom, maybe even one of the journalists dotted around the place, and that isn’t how he wants to announce this fledgling little thing between them to the world.

“I can’t be your boyfriend if I’m your campaign manager, and I’d much rather be one of those things than the other right now.”

Gary rolls his eyes. “You don’t mean that. This is your career too.”

“I mean every word,” Jamie says, pausing for dramatic effect, but knows it isn’t quite that simple. “No, listen, I’m not resigning, alright? Got the message loud and clear, so stop looking like someone stole your Wheaties.”

(But he would, for this. He would in a heartbeat)

“And boyfriends makes us sound like lovesick teenagers,” Gary adds, but that isn’t his irritated voice, so Jamie doesn’t pay it too much mind.

Besides, he feels just about as giddy as a lovesick teenager right now, so maybe it isn’t the most inaccurate description.

There’s a knock on the door, two sharp bangs one second apart.

“That’ll be Phil,” Gary says, sounding unhappy about it. “Results are probably imminent.”

Jamie tries not let it fuel his ego that Gary seems more interested in staying in his room with him than finding out if he’s achieved the singular goal of his professional life. He tries, and he fails.

Gary notices, because it’s been a long time since they missed anything about each other. “Don’t look so smug, James. I’d only rather be in here because there’s nothing worse than losing in front of a crowd.”

“I think I’ve already won,” Jamie says softly.

It’s stupidly sappy, but he’s stupidly happy, alright? He’s allowed.

[well-good-luck-with-that]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[testing-carraville]

Betrayed for the one-word prompt

Inspired by: You deserve to be the love of someone's life

It wasn't a rational response. That was clear from the get go to David, but still, it was there, the sense he was betrayed.

As if he had any right to even feel like that. He was the one who left, didn't look back, chasing dreams, fame and the limits of what he could do and be.

The thing was, Gary had been his North for so long, fixed, like the star who guided him home that he had never thought about even the possibility of his best friend (former lover) having someone else, even as he dated and married, had a family and children.

In his mind's eye, the image was always of Gaz, young and serious and alone, and to find out he wasn't... It was strange, the jealousy, curiously cold and physical, like a revulsion in his stomach.

Whatever he felt, it didn't matter. He had given up that right long ago, so he gulped down the cold, irrational needling feeling, and sent a congratulatory message.

It was the least of what he could do, to someone he had loved for so long, and so badly. Gary deserved better from him, than him.

And he could be happy with it, if the Scouser treated him right.

He would learn to be.

[well-good-luck-with-that]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[memeasaurus-promptus]

Send a word and I will write a drabble or headcanon based on it

Sunlight

Alone

Darkness

Streets

Cupboard

Snacks

Doubt

Joy

Peace

Moment

Rain

Hum

Kitchen

Bedroom

Family

Friend

Garden

Relax

Stress

Job

Fury

Betrayed

Absence

Vices

Pets

Absolve

Stars

Scorn 

Praise

Laundry

Papers

Smoke

Wine

Couch

Kiss

Doors

Tree

Dirt

Flowers

Collect

Remove

?+ add your own.

[testing-carraville]

Trust

One of the things about Gary that he very early on had discovered — the man didn't bloody know when to stop.

He was up at 5 in the morning, already tweeting or making a comment about something, would multi-task the whole day, and then when Jamie's insomnia inevitably led to him randomly messaging, he would answer back.

You would think someone with so much experience would know his own limits... But Gary seemed to have an inexhaustible well of energy. When he started listing everything he did... Jamie got tired just from listening, wondering how his co-pundit (friend) made it all work.

Sometimes, age did overtake Gary. Like now, as he had fallen sleep on Jamie's shoulder, after they had recorded themselves playing FIFA for an ad.

The camera crew was long gone, along with the director and his assistants. Gary had crashed after they had settled down to watch footie re-runs, and Jamie hadn't had the heart to wake him up, not even when his head slipped, resting from his shoulder to his lap.

The sheer trust the act implied... It blew his mind, made his heart accelerate, even as he took caution to not wake him up.

Jamie turned down the TVs sound, put his cellphone on silent, and admired the time passing by the expressions in Gary's face, as the sun set him in gold and red.

[testing-carraville]

Closeness

Gary had been talking about... something. Jamie couldn't identify what, because at this point in time, he was so taken with how animated, how passionate Gary was, it was taking all his concentration to not do something stupid, like kiss him.

He doesn't think anyone would blame him — not with Gaz looking like that, fierce, determined, as if his words could change reality so long as he willed them. 

(If it worked like that, Man U would not be in the slump they were, Gary's passion would drag them kicking and screaming into respectability again).

When he realized what eh was doing, it was already too late, a hand going to Gary's cheek, as if he could absorb and direct all that focus, contain it. All he did, was make a spectacle of himself, sense returning to his mind as he hastily took his hand back, afraid to look at Gary's face and see rejection. (He missed Gary's awe, his shuttering expression, and Micah's exasperation at the scene).

When he dares to look, there's a weak smile on Gary's face, his eyes look almost hurt, and he changes the topic, making Jamie wonder if he had imagined his own rash actions, normality settling in.

[testing-carraville]

A brush

The sensation was light, barely a touch on his shoulder, Carragher's hand there and gone in the next instant.

It shouldn't affect him — they were co-workers, friends even. And Gary was aware of how much Jamie treasured his mates. The loyalty that made him an one-club man was settled into his bones, woven in his actions, in his regard and manner with those he cared for.

Gary was lucky to be allowed into that circle, after all their disagreements and fights, knowing he was Carra's friend was a gift.

And no matter how much eh wished for more, how he longed to let himself melt under a touch, or lean into a kind shoulder, he would not throw it away, not for his feelings.

He had much better control over himself than that, and nobody needed to know what he felt.

His problems were his own, and he wouldn't let it taint what they have together, their closeness, the understanding between them, the appreciation, both for diverging opinions as well as when they think in the same vein.

No, Gary would not break under his secret.

How could he, when he still had everything he needed?

[abandonedtimemachine-deactivate]

Carraville Discord server

Our own little blanket fort! It is now a thing!

In order to join you need a Discord account (link, it’s free to create & use, only some extra features are premium) and use this server invite link. 

Don’t be shy, come squeal with us 😊

[testing-carraville]

A sign

The most startling sign for Jamie that things had changed was when Gary scowled at his tie, instantly going to his side and without asking for permission, retied it, so it was straight.

He hadn't even noticed it was crooked before, and definitely hadn't expected long, clever fingers to fix it for him.

Worse, the muttered expletives in the Manc's accent didn't draw any reaction from him — didn't surprise or annoy Jamie in any way. The only thing he had felt... was fondness, and the creeping sensation he was fucked.

Because he wanted to have those fingers back, wanted them on him, to feel them on his skin, to kiss their knuckles, to kiss their owner.

Iep, fucked.

And he couldn't even be angry about it, because Gary didn't even know the effect he had...

[promptful]

Meaningful Gestures Prompts

Welcome to my side-prompt blog! Ask me anything from writing, to prompt requests, and even join my discord where I can be frequently found!

Smoothing your fingers down your lover's tie, fixing where your lover couldn't tie it right.

Brushing your lover's waist/shoulder as they pass.

Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance.

Hooking your ankles together underneath the table.

Linking your hands together as you walk through school/a building/the streets--finger rubbing over your lover's knuckles softly.

Putting your hand on your lover's chest as they doze peacefully into the couch arm, focusing on the subtle beat of their heart on your hand.

Unflinchingly settling your head into your lover's lap while they watch television/are reading a book/doing their favorite hobby. Then asking your lover to explain what's going on/what they're doing.

On a whim, pulling your lover into an alley and pressing your lips firmly against theirs, getting lost in each other's touch while the streets bustle outside.

Holding your jacket over your lover's head as they hide from the rain, finding their formal outfit more important than your casual wear.

Whispering jokes/loving words in a lecture/school/church/a meeting. Trying not to laugh/flirt back in fear of disturbing everyone else who's trying to pay attention.

Putting your hand on your lover's thigh and feeling their eyes on you as they try to figure out your motives. Whether the touch is teasing or just for fun.

Mapping out your lover's features while they sleep in your arm, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose.

Hooking a thumb into your lover's belt loop/pocket as a crowd surrounds you, making sure that you don't lose them in the people.

Pressing tiny kisses against your lover's shoulder while they're bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them.

Wrapping your arms around your lover's waist and pressing your forehead against their back/resting on their shoulder, swaying to music only the two of you can hear.

At your lover's complaining, rubbing a spot where they ache, smiling as they lean into your touch and melt at both the touch and warmth.

Standing still as your lover rubs smudged lipstick/lipstick stains off of your skin, catching them off guard by pressing a kiss against their fingertip.

Pushing your lover against a wall after one too many teasing comments, but being met with unsaid tension instead of the quiet. Both of you unable to continue with the jokes.

After coming home from work/a long trip, finding your lover sobbing on the couch/in bed after a hard day, wiping away their tears with soft touches and gentle words--trying to convince them it's okay, and that you're there for them now.

Softly resting a hand on your lover's shoulder as they face something more difficult than ever, not bothering to exchange words as the touch does it all the same. You've got this in the bag.

Having your lover list everything they're insecure about, and responding with gentle caresses, kisses, and compliments about those areas.

While someone demeans your lover, standing up for them. Either in word, or by physically placing yourself right in front of them as a protective barrier.

Carding your fingers through your lover's hair after a bad nightmare, not caring that it's sweaty or matted, but just that they'll be able to get a good night's sleep, even if it's at the sacrifice of your own.

Protecting your lover's sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you.

Reading up on the things your lover enjoys so that when they talk about them, you'll understand a little better and be able to hold a conversation.

Tracing invisible shapes on your lover's skin as they're busy doing something stressful, keeping their attention half on what they're doing, and half on you.

Very softly placing butterfly kisses on your lover's skin up the length of their arm, either stopping at their neck, or drifting back down to their pulse point.

Reassurance in the form of food/movies/games, forcing them to take a second away and relax with you.

Not accepting that it's time to start the day, and pinning them onto the mattress with either your whole body, a leg, or more risque touches.

Visiting them at work, either with lunch, or just to spend the afternoon with them as they try to get things done. Whether they actually get things done, or thing devolve into flirting/romantic gestures is up to you.

DIALOGUE

"Hold on, let me fix this for you."

"God, you look so good."

"I'm... uh, dammit, your lips are so distracting. Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Your hands are always so warm."

"Be real with me, love. Do you really care about what I'm doing, or do you just want me to talk you to sleep?"

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you."

"Couldn't you wait to kiss me at home?"

"Please, I don't want the rain getting both of us sick. I volunteer to be tribute--take my jacket."

"Stop, stop! We're going to get in trouble, and I refuse to be yelled at because of you!"

"I am trusting you with that hand, darling. I hope my trust isn't misplaced."

"I promise I'll stay close."

"You know, I am trying to focus... but I can't deny that it doesn't feel good. Keep going, please."

"Take a small break, for me?"

"Never thought I'd have someone to sway with me in the kitchen... I'm glad I was wrong."

"You have lipstick on your cheek, here let me-- oh."

"I-- you-- where we we?"

"Kiss me, please."

"It's going to be okay, I promise."

"Let yourself cry, I'm here now. You're safe."

"You may think differently, but I love this about you."

"Every part, no matter how you feel, is amazing to me. I could spend all day explaining everything I love about you."

"You want to get to them, you go through me."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

"They're just a jerk, why don't we just go somewhere else?"

"I won't let them put their hands on you."

"I'm right here; I won't leave your side. Go back to sleep, darling."

"C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me."

"Hey, leave them alone. They just fell asleep."

"Don't you dare wake them up."

"Wow, you really did your research, huh? That's amazing..."

"Next time, we can talk more about--"

"You know, you make these kinds of things not so painful, so thank you."

"Hmm... I don't whether to appreciate or complain that you're distracting me."

"I love how your pulse races for me..."

"Do I make your heart jump?"

"Come on, watch this movie with me. I promise it won't be as bad as the previous one."

"I bought this really cool game. Come and play it with me?"

"Hey, I got some food. Why don't we go eat in the kitchen for once?"

"Hrmg, I'm not moving. Don't make me."

"It's far too early for this..."

"Please, we need to get up."

"Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

"I'm staying here, and I'm not moving. I do not care about your empty threats! Hey-- wait-- what are you doing?"

"I bought two sandwiches... by total accident, of course. Thought I might come give one of them to you, and maybe while I'm here spend some time with you, hm?"

"This... isn't doing work. But I don't think I mind."

"Thank you for joining me, love."

[zingaplanet]

I believe there are different languages of love, but the one that warms up to me the most is not the openly affectionate 'I love you you're the best thing that ever happened to me' declaration kind, but the more subtle one, of hidden gestures, unspoken tics you get about them and around them, small acts of caring that's not done for any other purpose than to do something kind for said person because you secretly really really care about them.

I genuinely believe that's why Gary and Jamie's relationship over the years resonate so much with us. Beneath all the banters and the jokes,

It's the way they always subtly make it publicly clear that they have each other's backs, whether when one is getting slandered on twitter, or on getting back their jobs at sky (After Valencia and after Carra's suspension).

The way they always show support and promote each other's professional ventures (although sometimes in a very *ehem* unique way).

The way they're each other's first person to be invited that comes to mind whenever they start said professional and charity ventures (i.e., Jamie in all The Overlaps, Jamie being invited to play with Co92 against Salford, Gary forcing Jamie to accompany him for Legends of the North)

The way they blurred the lines of each other's inner circles and created world peace between even england's golden generations past rivalries.

The way they can't help but always bring up each other in every opportunity and interview completely unprompted.

The way they take criticism from each other in stride like they never did with others.

And the way they both unspokenly still stayed in the same hotel in London after 10 years when everyone has ventured out on their own despite begrudgingly refusing to admit that they want to spend time together.

It's the relatable, intimate, small things we do only for the people we care about the most.

Ones you find yourself doing not even caring if the person realises it or not, neither whether they return it, because your fondness is such that you can afford to love them unselfishly.