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poliel · 3 years

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Surprise Egg 3/13: Surprise Labor

Heads up, for kinda graphic labor in this chapter. It's an egg though so it's not as bloody and stuff as a live birth would be. But it's still something that I feel I should give a warning about in case anyone needs/wants one.

I bet this chapter came a lot sooner than y'all were expecting. It happened this way because A. Buddy doesn't know and it's important to the story they don't know until after they birth the egg for reasons y'all will see later and B. the immediate aftermath of them laying the egg took a lot longer than I expected and the following consequences of how bad this pregnancy and birth was for their body while being malnourished also come up because it wouldn't have felt complete if I didn't cover that aspect of it in the fic. So basically what I'm saying is this was supposed to happen towards the end of the fic but then I discovery wrote my way into that not being the case.

Convincing Shelda to go back to town hadn’t been difficult on a technical level but her requests had been particularly aggravating. Normally Buddy were good at keeping their cool but they were tired, hungry, and felt awful, even more than had become usual, making them tempted to growl at her every time she spouted nonsense. They’d resisted though, remaining mostly polite throughout. And now she was finally gone and they could rest for a bit. …

Except they didn’t have time to. While they were here, they should catch that buffalocust for Cromdo and a picantis for Gramble. Also, they had their self-imposed task of catching every bugsnax and there were several others here that hadn’t caught yet. Not to mention the whole being expected them to bring back enough bugsnax to feed everyone in town. Ugh! If only they’d given in to Filbo’s insistence they stay and rest, take today off. But… they really couldn’t afford to no matter how awful they felt. So they allowed themself no more than ten minutes resting in the shade of Shelda’s lean-to before forcing themself back up to their feet and gathering up their equipment to start hunting.

It started as just a small twinge in their abdomen every now and then, little more than an annoying distraction as they stalked their prey. But then it started getting worse; more painful and more frequent. Until eventually one rolled through them so bad it had them doubling over and clutching at their middle. It lasted for several seconds, leaving them panting once it finally passed.

What even was that? And how concerned should they be? Probably a lot, right? No way anything that hurt that bad could be…

Something sharp stung their shoulder, making them jump. That dang scorpepper! They turned to growl at it but quickly gave that up because their fur had caught fire again. Sending them rushing over to submerge themself in the thankfully nearby water instead.

Dripping wet now, they stepped out to sit on the shore. They then twisted their head to inspect the spot as best they could, fighting back the urge to gag at the smell of burnt fur. The fire hadn’t spread far and they’d taken care of it fast enough that the flesh underneath hadn’t suffered much damage. It was just one more minor burn to add to the rather large collection they had on their body now, some of which were from that same exact Scorpepper earlier today.

Standing up, they turned to face it with a growl. From this distance it was completely invisible on its dumb rock face. They lifted a paw to flip it off anyway. They were going to catch it and they were going to enjoy feeding to someone because it was an asshole.

They took two steps towards it before another wave of pain washed through them, doubling them over around their midsection again. It brought them all the way to their knees this time. They growled to themself as it passed. Vengeance would have to wait, they needed to deal with whatever this was first.

Now, should they try to get back to for help town or wait this out and hope it got better? On one hand it was clearly something serious on the other though, the thought of dragging themself and their equipment all the way back to Snaxburg while doubling over in pain every few minutes was not appealing. Especially with all the many aggressive bugsnax between here and there. The last thing they needed while dealing with this was to also have to deal with being rammed by angry spuddys or set on fire by the various snax that hated them and could do such. So… waiting it out was their only real option, huh?

With a groan, they dragged themself back over to the lean-to. They’d just finished putting aside their backpack and sitting down before another wave rolled through them. They were definitely getting closer together. Was that a good or bad sign though?

After it passed, they put a paw on their belly, pressing down lightly and then a little harder because it felt weird. Kind of like there was something hard was inside them? … And they were certain it wasn’t Sprout’s buggy ball either so what the fuck?

It would’ve been nice to think on that mystery more and solve it but they were exhausted and their body was already tensing in preparation for the next wave of pain. They lay down on their side on the thin sleeping bag. Ready for it this time, they gritted their teeth when it rolled through them. As it passed, they were left panting again but they had high pain tolerance so they’d get through whatever this was and then go back to Snaxburg and sleep cuddled up with Filbo for however long they could. And maybe they’d even finally do as he’d been asking them to for a while now and take tomorrow off. And then everything would be fine again.

Sometime later

Nope! They weren’t going to make it through this. They were going to die for sure. Out here in middle of the wretchedly hot desert they were going to die alone and a failure, their big story untold and their only legacy being one of disappointment after disappointment.

They whimpered and rolled, trying unsuccessfully to find a more comfortable position, ultimately just ending up back on their side, curled around their middle. Clawing uselessly at the sand, they desperately tried again to purr to feel better, only managing a broken stutter.

More than anything they wanted Filbo with them. They’d be willing to do almost anything to be held by him right now. The fact that he wasn’t here and wouldn’t be coming brought tears to their eyes that they didn’t even bother trying to hold back as another pain rolled through the middle. The screamed as everything inside them tightened again.

How could their insides possibly hurt so much without whatever it was killing them on the spot? How much longer could it even go on for? The gaps between the pain and tightening that came with it now were only a few seconds apart now. Surely something had to give eventually!

With another wave of pain, pulling another scream out of them as their whole body tightened again, something suddenly did give way as they quite literally pushed something out of their body. The tension gone from their body, they started shaking as they panted lying limp on the ground.

It was… over? … Finally? Really? … They waited, prepared and dreading another wave of pain but… it didn’t come. … It was really over.

Their eyes welled with tears again, this time tears of relief. After they’d caught their breath a bit more, they carefully pushed themself up to examine the… egg between their legs? Huh? It was much too big to be an eggler and the faded burnt orange and light blue splotches on it made that even more clear because that meant it was a grumpus egg. What the fuck?

Sex-ed was forever and a day ago now but they were pretty sure the colours weren’t random; they came from the parents, right? So meant… they’d been carrying Filbo’s egg for… probably since after their heat, huh? That… certainly explained some things. They’d had no idea though. … Whoops.

What now? … Back to town. They’d take it back to town and show Filbo and then rest and then they’d figure out what to do about it. Because right now they could barely even think let alone make any kind of important decision about this.

Shaking even more now, they sat all the way up and reached into their pouch to pull out Sprout’s buggy ball. “Sorry little guy, you’re going back into the pack for a bit.” They pulled the pack over and put him inside, being sure to zip it up so he couldn’t escape. Then they turned to look at the egg again; their and Filbo’s egg… ugh. Carefully they picked it up and pushed into their pouch. Despite being a bit bigger and a different shape, it felt and looked an awful lot like how Sprout’s buggy ball had being in there had. Well, that’d make ensuring Filbo was the first one to know easy.

Taking a deep breath, they pulled the backpack on. Lucky for them, they’d left all their hunting equipment attached to it so they didn’t have to worry about that right now. Except for the fact that it made it heavy, normally not an issue but now… eh, it’d be fine. They were used to it and thanks to the whole surprise labor thing the only bugsnax they’d successfully caught today was the black razzby so it certainly could’ve been a lot heavier.

They stood up. Or tried to, anyway. Blackness ate at their vision before they were even all the way upright, sending them to their knees and then…

They woke to the sound of something heavy being dragged across the ground. Whatever it was, they were lying on it on their back, judging based off the way the sound seemed to come from all around and matching the sensation of movement they felt. With a groan they opened their eyes to see clear blue sky high above high above them, framed on either side by the familiar canyon walls of the Scorched Gorge.

Underneath them was their backpack and… turning their head a little… they were lying on a wooden platform that looked an awful lot like it used to be part of Shelda’s lean-to. But who was pulling…

A monster was pulling the platform by the pole that had once kept the lean-to upright. Or not a monster but a grumpus shape thing made of food. A bugsnax?

Their heart skipped a beat as their fur prickled with excitement and a drop of fear. They snatched up their camera for where it hung around their neck and took a photo. Probably not a good one though so they took another and another. And then, annoyed with the angle, they sat up to snap another.

It glanced back at them with big empty googly eyes, of which they took a pic of, of course. Yes, definitely a bugsnax! A giant one. Intelligent too based off the way it was clearly intentionally dragging them somewhere. How intelligent though? And where was it taking them?

With a well-practiced quick motion, they pulled their journal, pencil, and recorder out of their pack’s side pocket. They flipped open to a new page and pressed the record button.

“Hello. Can you understand me?”

No response.

Holding the journal and recorder with one paw, they snapped a few more photos with the other, just to be sure. “I’m a journalist and I’m here to study bugsnax. If you can understand me, I’d like a…”

It growled. Wet and menacing, it sent a chill down Buddy’s spine and brought an excited smile to their face. That was the same sound they’d heard that night a while ago now when everyone had gathered around the campfire to tell ghost stories! Probably this was also the thing Gramble and Beffica saw that other night. So this thing had been lurking around town for who even knows how long. Why though? Buddy intended to find out.

“Growling works. How about a long growl for ‘no’ and short a one for ‘yes’?

It growled again before stopping and melting into the ground.

“Wait, wait, come back!” Their paws being full made getting up to their feet hard but they were nothing if not determined and managed anyway. “I wasn’t done talking to you.”

But alas, it was gone. Nothing remained of where it had just been standing mere moments ago. Dammit! … Well at least they had some pics and some recorded audio. That was a hell of a lot better than nothing.

After letting the camera hang around their neck again, they stopped the recording and put it and the notebook and pencil back in the side pocket. Then they looked around to ascertain their location… just outside Snaxburg. The… Snaxsquatch – Yes! That’s what they were going to call it! – had brought them back from the desert. So it was friendly too. … They simply had to go tell Filbo about it and then probably everyone else too.

#my writing #bugsnax #filbuddy #filbo fiddlepie #the journalist #pregnancy #birth #labor

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snarkwrites · 3 years

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06 | gangsta ; sweetpea

Notes:

So.. the sexual tension. The longing. The lingering touches and all that awkward but cute shit.. That’s starting here. Can we say sloooow burn? Because considering I’m now six chapters deep and they really haven’t... Done too much as far as touching / flirting / interacting, yeah.. That’s what this is. If you weren’t looking for a slow burn, I’m honestly not sure what to tell you? Other than oops? Oh.. Also.. this chapter and the next one I’m posting will have a few days lapse between them as far as timing. So... just so you know. It’s alluded that Sweet Pea and Alyssa have kind of bumped into each other between this chapter and the next one, if that makes sense.

Also.. I’ve pretty much planned out what stuff I am using / changing a little now, so that’s good. I have a general idea. I might even add my own events / plots to this. I’m kind of.. tempted.

Warnings:

non canon compliant - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are... definitely not going to like this. angst & slow burn, heavy sexual tension starting now, actually - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. violence / swearing & fighting, possible underage drinking and other shenanigans - look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?... eventual sexual content / a virgin original character - this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there.

Pairing:

Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa x Sweet Pea

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three - four - five - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for this story by all means.. Please let me know. Please, I beg. It’d make me super duper happy!!!

SIX.

“You could come up to the lake house with us. It beats sitting around here moping.” Veronica spoke up as she stepped in front of the television set in my father’s living room. I tried to peer around her, grumbling because naturally, she’d pick the one scene in the entire episode I’d been dying to see since I started to re-watch the show and she’d block it.

“You realize I am trying to see Charlie Hunnam’s bare ass right now, right?” I asked calmly. Reaching for the half melted pint of butter pecan ice cream on the table in front of me and my spoon. Nodding to the empty spot on the couch that wasn’t taken up by my legs. Veronica sat down and for a few minutes, neither of us really said anything.

“What’s your attraction to this show?”

“Jax Teller, Opie Winston... Motorcycles.. But mostly Jax Teller.”

“Which one is he?”

“The blond with the very nice backside.” I nodded towards the shot I’d been waiting an entire season for, Jax Teller getting out of the shower and walking across the room.

“You definitely don’t have a type, no, not at all.” Veronica gave a soft laugh as she muttered the words. With the scene out of the way, I turned to the side to look at her.

“I’m not even going to ask what you meant by that.” I muttered.

Things were always awkward and tense between us. We were polite. But that was about the extent of it. And I felt bad about it. Obviously not bad enough to actually make an effort, even though she seemed like a really nice girl and she made my brother really happy. Happier than he’s been in a long time if I’m being honest.

I just couldn’t get past the rift her family caused in mine.

Then there was her mother, trying to hook up with my father while her actual husband was locked up in prison… But mostly, the tension her father caused between my father and my brother.

“Listen.. I heard everything that happened between you and Reggie. And if you want to come to the lake house..”

I shook my head. “ I am not crashing on the whole double date getaway you guys have going on. Besides, I doubt I’d be good company right now.”

“You wouldn’t be crashing!” Veronica was quick to speak up. “I know you don’t like me. But your brother loves you and I really.. I want to try to get to know you.”

I nodded. Taking a deep breath as I admitted quietly, “It’s not you, okay? Look. I have zero problem with you. It’s all the crap that’s going on with my brother and your dad. I’m… I’m worried about him and how far he’ll go.”

Veronica sighed. We went quiet again and she admitted after a few minutes, “I am too. If you want the truth, I don’t really like how close my dad is to him either. I don’t trust it.”

I eyed her, a brow raised.

“That’s like a dream situation though. If your father likes him, you don’t have to worry about him resorting to any of his typical clownery to end things with you two.” I curled the ends of my hair around my fingertip as I tried to understand why she wouldn’t like her father and my brother bonding a little.

Then it hit me. It had to feel awkward. Your father popping in to borrow your boyfriend. But the look on her face told me that wasn’t the only reason.

“I know what my father’s capable of. And the more I try to stop it, the more he manages to get by with. I hate everything he’s done, okay? I just.. Wanted you to know that.”

I let her words sink in.

Eyeing her as I weighed mine. Managing a smile.

“You make my brother happy. I like him happy. So if you really want to try and get to know each other, we can. But I’m not going to intrude on you guys weekend get away, because one, awkward as hell and two, I can imagine that already happens enough with your dad butting in to get him to do something or another.”

Veronica nodded, smiling. “I understand. What are you going to do this weekend?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m probably going to rewind that one scene five million times and burn it in my mind… I thought about going down to the theater and catching that horror marathon but I dunno.” I shrugged.

“A horror movie by yourself?”

“Mhm.”

After my brother came downstairs, the two of them left for the weekend and I locked the door behind them, leaning against it. Wandering over to my dad’s stereo, turning it on a hard rock station I listened to when I was home by myself just to drive out the lack of noise in the house.

I wandered into the kitchen, gathering up dirty dishes and moving them to the sink. Taking chicken out of our freezer to thaw because I thought about making chicken parmesan for me and dad when dad got off work tonight.

Vegas wandered into the kitchen and dropped his leash at my feet with a soft thud. I stopped what I was doing to lean down and pet him, nodding to the door. “In a few minutes, buddy. I’ll go find pants.”

I finished piling dishes into the sink and I wandered into the laundry room, digging around in the dryer for the jeans I’d taken off earlier, tugging them up. The door bell was literally being leaned on and I froze.

Took a few deep breaths and reminded myself that all the Black Hood nonsense was behind Riverdale because the guy was dead. Thinking it was Archie and he forgot something and was in a hurry, I made my way over to the door, unlocking it. “Hold on, Archie, damn.”

It wasn’t Archie.

Reggie stood there.

“What do you want?” I scowled.

“I miss you, okay? This is driving me crazy. Can we at least just talk about what you heard?”

“What exactly is there left to say? You were basically gambling on my virginity.” I frowned and shook my head. Shivering as the wind picked up a little.

“We can go inside and talk, Alyssa.”

“I just told you. I have absolutely nothing to say to you. Look… what you did hurt, okay? Because I thought… nevermind.” I muttered, going quiet. Blowing at bangs I’d just gotten cut earlier in the week. He reached out to attempt pushing my hair out of my eyes and I leaned away. Vegas yelped impatiently from the doorway, his leash in his mouth now.

Seeing Reggie, he started to make his way over. Reggie bent to pet the dog and I cleared my throat. “You need to go.”

“Just let me say what I came to say.”

I tapped a bare foot against white painted wood slats and tilted my head, gazing up at him. Waiting.

“The only reason I made the stupid bet to begin with is because you’re literally the one girl I couldn’t work up the nerve to flirt with. And when I did, my charm didn’t work on you. Kinda when I started to fall. You gave me a hard time, princess.”

“ I kind of wish I’d stuck to that, actually.” I muttered. “All you had to do, Reggie, was just talk to me? Ask me on a date, I don’t know…”

“I was stupid, okay?” Reggie went quiet. Stepped a little closer. “ I love you. When I made the bet, I didn’t know how I felt about you at all. Then I started to fall and I tried to get out of the bet, Alyssa, you have to believe me. I tried to tell you but every time I’d think about it, I’d freak out because you’re the first actual good thing I’ve had in my life in a while, okay?”

I scoffed. “Yeah, I doubt that.”

“I mean it. And I’m not going to stop trying to prove it.”

I shrugged. “Do whatever you want but I’m not guaranteeing it will work. I already went against my gut instinct and gave you a chance to begin with.”

I shivered a little, hugging myself. Reggie placed his hands on my upper arms, rubbing them. Gazing down at me.

“Reggie, you need to go. I just need to think.”

“Thinking is better than you saying you hate me now… I just.. You were my best friend when we were kids.. Then I kinda fell for you and now stuff just sucks.. I don’t have my best friend or the girl I love. Anything is better than nothing.”

Reggie left and I walked back inside, flinging myself at the couch. Pulling myself together for a few seconds. Really letting what he said sink in. Trying to figure out if I felt the same thing. Or if I felt anything at all.

I finally gave up trying to force myself into a decision and after leashing Vegas, I wandered out into the chilly night air. Down to Pickens Park because Vegas likes to wander around the big grassy area between the ballfields and the playground.

After playing fetch with a stick Vegas bought over to me, I flopped onto the grass. Vegas settled beside me and I found myself just kind of lounging there lazily, watching the clouds roll over the darkening sky lazily. Pointing at constellations when I spotted one. Vegas seemed content to just lounge there, his head resting on my stomach with me lazily giving him behind the ear skritches.

A throat cleared from nearby.

Sweet Pea stepped out, hands in his pockets. Wandering over to where I’d lazily flopped onto the grass. Sitting down nearby with his back against the tree. Close but keeping a healthy distance between us.

“Do you always lay in the park at night and talk to your dog?”

“What if I do?” I answered, rolling onto my stomach, propping on my elbow to gaze at him, my hair promptly cascading in front of my face like a messy red curtain.

“Damn it. I should’ve just chopped it all off.” I grumbled, pushing my hair out of my eyes to look at him.

“You’d look hideous bald.” Sweet Pea flashed me a teasing smirk.

“Hmphf.” I grumbled in response to his comment. “What brings you to the boring side of town?”

Sweet Pea shrugged. “Wyrm was crowded. Full of shouting kids and shit. I wanted to take a walk.”

“Toni and Cheryl went to see that movie tonight.” I laughed softly. “They asked me if I wanted to go but I said I wanted to stay home. Kind of just not feeling it. Then my brother’s girlfriend asked if I wanted to go on that weekend trip they all took.”

“You could be soaking in a hot tub right now.” Sweet Pea teased, a lesser seen teasing smile tugging at his mouth as he glanced at me.

“Honestly? I’d rather eat glass than indulge in anything Hiram Lodge is a part of. I’ll be nice to Veronica and try to get to know her, but that’s pretty much it. You know he brought my brother a car, right?”

“Yeah. I heard.” Sweet Pea answered, glancing over at me.

“Dad wasn’t thrilled with it either. That’s fine. Absolutely fine. I want Dad’s truck anyway. I’ll just spend weekends helping dad work on it. It’ll be more time I can spend with the grumpy old man.” I smiled to myself. One good thing about moving to Riverdale was that I was finally getting to spend more time with my father and my brother.

“You couldn’t even see over the wheel though. Can you even drive to begin with?” Sweet Pea shot me a teasing glance. Quick to step away from me just a little further, raising his hands. “I’m not trying to invoke the wrath of the midget.”

“It’s called a booster seat, asshole. And actually yeah. I do okay at driving. I mean aside from a go kart incident back in Chicago...” I teased right back, the two of us sharing a laugh that fell silent.

Sweet Pea stood, holding out a hand.

I eyed his hand and sat up, grabbing hold. Letting him pull me off the grass. Vegas rose to sit on his hind legs, then made his way over, sitting down right between Sweet Pea and I.. the little space that remained, there is. When he’d pulled me up, he’d pulled me with enough force that I wound up barely pressed against him. Close enough that my breath caught in my throat for a few seconds.

We sprang apart. Sweet Pea’s hand settled on top of Vegas’ head lazily and he chuckled when Vegas licked his hand, wiping his hand on the thigh of his jeans.

“It’s late. And colder.” Sweet Pea pointed out, nodding in the direction of my house. I glanced up at the sky and unable to resist, I retorted, “You don’t say, captain obvious.”

I jumped back out of his way a little and he stepped up. Towering over me.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you back.”

“But sir. I have a perfectly capable guard dog? What would the upstanding hypocritical assholes on this street think.. A big bad Serpent walking defenseless little me home?” I pretended to pout up at him, laughing softly. “I was joking.” I muttered a few seconds later.

He shook his head, muttered something I couldn’t quite make out and we started to walk down the sidewalk, towards my father’s house.

The streetlight flickered on above us, bathing us in soft and almost hazy lighting thanks to the fog that was starting to kind of set in.

The leaves crunched beneath my feet. Shattering this heavy air of silence that seemed to settle over us.

“I’m gonna.. Go. Back to the Wyrm.” Sweet Pea muttered abruptly a few seconds later. Lingering, even though he said he’d leave. Gazing down at me as if he were in a daze. Or caught up in his own thoughts. A million miles away.

“I need to get Vegas in the house.” I muttered, nipping at my lip as I held eye contact. Trying not to think about what I’d revealed to Cheryl and Toni a few days ago about maybe being attracted to him… But it was all I could think about at the moment. His eyes darted down, settling on my bottom lip. Then he shook his head, turning swiftly and disappearing around the corner up the street.

I walked inside, making the comment to Vegas, “That wasn’t weird at all, huh buddy?” Vegas just tilted his head, gazing up at me. I bent to take off his leash, hanging it up. Fluffing his fur before hurrying into the kitchen to grab myself a soda.

Settling in on the couch. Turning the television back on.

And promptly falling asleep in the middle of a rewatch of the first season of Punisher. And as I slept, I found myself dreaming about Reggie. And then, oddly enough, Sweet Pea.

When I woke up the next morning, it was to a few seconds of confusion because the dream I’d woken up from had been so vivid that I honestly thought it actually happened. I pouted as soon as the realization sunk in that it had been a dream.

And I grumbled in annoyance with myself because I wanted it to be real. Because lately, spending all this time around Sweet Pea, I was starting to feel like maybe I didn’t just think he was hot.

Maybe I actually did feel something.

Before that thought could take root, I was shoving it back out of my head again. Refusing to acknowledge it. Because the hot guys are always the ones that somehow manage to do the most damage. And I was still pretty hurt over the way things played out with Reggie. Afraid to open myself up. Afraid to trust. Afraid to try, if I’m being honest because I was at least 95 percent sure that Sweet Pea would probably laugh his ass off at me if I were dumb enough to do so.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea imagines #sweetpea fic #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fic #my writing ; sweetpea #my fanfiction ; sweetpea #my fics ; sweetpea #// i am so proud of this even though it's totally flopped.

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randomfandomimagine · 5 years

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Fate Is Sealed. Chapter 11

Fandom: John Wick

Ship: John x Elizabeth (OC)

Previous Chapter - Chapter Index - Next Chapter

Read it on AO3!!

After a very intense... make out session… I mean, sparring session, John and I showered and prepared to go to sleep. We argued over who would get the bed but decided to share it in the end.

When he walked back into the room, hair still wet from the shower, he was wearing only his sweatpants. I wondered if he was teasing me to get me back for ‘playing dirty’ before, exposing his bare chest like that.

I parted my lips to drop a sarcastic comment, but he stood with his back faced to me and pointed a thumb to his tattoo. I made an effort to focus on the ink and not on the defined muscles that moved under his skin. Or the many scars that covered it as well.

“Looks pretty cool” I commented, taking in all the details.

The Latin phrase we had previously talked about was right under his nape, written in simple uppercase letters. Under it there were praying hands with an ornate cross behind it. Then, on his right shoulder blade was a wolf howling and what seemed like a candle lit with fire on his left one.

“Thanks” He pulled out a shirt from the wardrobe he stood in front of and turned to me. “I got them a long time ago”

Before he could put the gray T-shirt on, I caught a glimpse of another cross in his upper arm. This one was simpler and colored in.

“You have terrible taste, you know?” I averted my gaze when I noticed a scar on his right shoulder, and a pang of culpability took over my stomach.

“Why?” Now dressed in his pijamas, John joined me in the bed.

“Because you chose the person who tried to kill you” No matter how much I missed the expressiveness of those beautiful brown eyes, I couldn’t meet with them again. “Of all people…”

“You still feel guilty about that?” He put an arm over my shoulders and attracted me to his side. “You did what you had to do”

“You’re not mad about it?”

“I would if you had been any good at it”

“Stop”

With the corner of my eye, I caught a hint of a smile on his lips. How did that even happen? How was I the one responsible for that grin?

Definitely teasing me, John playfully shook me, pushing me against his side. He let out a soft chuckle that forced me to peer at him in spite of myself.

When our eyes met, his lingered, watching me with so much attention and intensity that I scolded myself for being flustered by those brown eyes of his.

“What are you looking at?” I challenged him, smiling myself nonetheless.

“I can never tell what color your eyes are” John muttered, keeping our glances locked together.

“Take a closer look then” I cocked an eyebrow, piercing him with my glance as well.

He squinted, getting so close to me that our noses nearly touched. I could feel his warm breath in my skin, tempting me with the proximity of his lips again.

"Still can't tell" John shrugged and backed up, which was almost a relief.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think he was torturing me on purpose. I found him to be intoxicating but preferred to contain my impulses. I wanted him to take the first step since he was the one that needed time. Still, our interaction in the gym reminded me that he wanted me despite it all.

Instead of overthinking it, I got comfortable in the bed. I fought the impulse to get as close to him as humanly possible and lied on my side facing him. I closed my eyes, wondering how I would be able to sleep knowing he was so close to me and having my erratic heartbeat being a reminder of it.

I tensed up when his arm fell over me, but I didn’t move in fear that he had fallen asleep and done it subconsciously. His soft weight felt warm and protective.

“Elizabeth” I opened my eyes to look up at him and found with a sweet smile plastered on his lips as they met with mine. That smile that seemed permanent as long as I was around. “Goodnight”

I chuckled, deciding to scoot closer to him until my nose brushed against his shoulder, where I left a tiny kiss.

“Sweet dreams, John” I closed my eyes once again, unable to stop smiling.

My grin only widened when I felt how he leaned his head closer to mine.

First thing in the morning, I was woken up by the bright sunlight that filtered through the window. Lazily opening my eyes, I found with John’s peaceful expression.

I had snuggled closer to him in my sleep and now rested over his chest, his arm protectively wrapping around me as he kept me close. I smiled at the sight, although it sent a tingling feeling to my stomach.

Suddenly feeling restless, I carefully stood up and quickly changed into my jeans, sweater and boots. I felt a sudden urge to leave, to escape, and I couldn’t really tell why. I just needed to get some air and clear my head.

Buddy looked up at me, lying at the feet of the bed, as I gathered all my belongings into the bag. I took a look at John, profoundly asleep still, and sighed.

“Don’t worry, boy” I scratched the dog’s head. “I’ll be back”

I quickly scrawled a note on the bedside table for John with the words ‘don’t freak out, I just wanted to take a walk. See you soon, E.’ and left.

Thoughts boiled in my head as I inevitably arrived to the car shop. As I came in and looked for Aurelio, my mind drifted back to John. I didn’t want him to think I had been kidnapped or anything, and I hoped John would find the note and be at ease.

“Hey, loser” I called up when I spotted a familiar figure.

Aurelio instantly turned at the sound of my voice, cigarette in hand, and scoffed.

“Holy shit!” He threw his hands to the sky. “Thank you for blessing me with your presence, Lisa”

“Fine” I rolled my eyes at his dramatic welcoming. “Guess I deserve that”

“Yeah, you almost got killed and I was fortunate to get a call from you!”

“In my defense, I went through a lot of shit in a very short period of time”

“You sure did, love” To my surprise, Aurelio enveloped me in a warm hug.

“You really must have been worried, huh?” I smiled, endeared by my friend’s concern. He energetically patted my back before letting go of me.

“You better fucking believe it” He put his cigarette between his lips and held me by the elbows, taking a good look at me.

I averted my eyes when I grew very aware of all the visible bruises in my face that were still healing. Aurelio frowned in deep thought, lingering for a few seconds before letting go of me.

“You look like shit” He chuckled, nudging me a little. “As usual”

“Yeah, thanks” I leaned in a car with its hood up and shrugged.

“So what brings you here, stranger?” He took a long drag out of his cigarette and stared at me, almost trying to see through my carefree exterior.

“I don’t really know… I guess I wanted to see a friendly face”

“Isn’t John’s friendly enough? I thought you were pretty close now”

“I… Well, I guess, but…”

“Have you two-“

“Wow!” I interrupted him before he could carry on, recognizing the smug glint in his dark eyes. “Stop right there, you pervert”

“What?” He innocently replied, smirking at my definite blushing. “I’m curious!”

“Don’t be nosy, you asshole” I had to laugh a little, but I pushed him.

“That’s it then, huh?”

“No, smartass, that’s not it”

“Then what is it?”

“I… don’t know what to do”

“About what?”

“About anything”

I took a deep breath, overwhelmed by my own feelings. Aurelio was partially right; John and I were getting really close. Maybe too close, and he wasn’t the only one who needed to take things slow.

So many things had changed… I wasn’t still over the fact that we started out as enemies not that long ago. That he was a different person from what I believed him to be. That I was falling for the Boogeyman no less, and opening my heart to him. That, even if it was allegedly because of my safety, I had spent the night with John.

“What do you mean?” Realizing my struggle, my friend got serious.

“I don’t feel safe at home after what happened” I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. “And I feel safe with John, but…”

“It’s too much” Aurelio guessed, eyeing me carefully. “And it scares you”

“Well… yeah” I clicked my tongue in annoyance at myself. “I never had anything serious like this and… It’s not even that serious, but it’s getting there and…”

“Elizabeth…” Aurelio grinned fondly, making me feel kind of silly.

“I sound like an insecure little girl, don’t I? This is so stupid…”

“No, I get it. You have a lot on your plate already and you don’t want to fuck up what you have with John, because it’s the only good thing in your life right now” Aurelio chuckled to himself. “Besides my wonderful friendship, of course”

I huffed in outrage, especially when he smirked again at my reaction.

“What kind of bullshit is that? You fucking put it into words” I rolled my eyes and groaned in frustration. “I couldn’t even put it into words”

“That’s because I know you better than you know yourself, kid” To add to that cool line, he interestingly gave his cigarette a puff and exhaled the smoke.

“Don’t you fucking call me kid” I grinned, feeling better already.

“I would give him the talk about breaking your tiny little heart but…” Now he was being a bit too much. “I don’t think I should threaten John Wick like that”

“Shut up, you idiot” I was still halfway through my sentence when my phone beeped.

I took a look at it and saw a message from John.

‘Meet me at the Continental’ was all it said.

“Is it your dear boyfriend?” Aurelio asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Fuck off” I accompanied my words by flipping him off. “I gotta go”

“Is all good?” He asked me, finally putting his cigarette off.

“Yeah, don’t worry” I went to hug him, and he hugged me back. “Thanks for everything, Aurelio”

“No problem” He gave me a genuine smile when we broke away. “Take care”

Feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders now that I had talked about my feelings and understood my emotions, I went to reunite with John.

However, I had an arising suspicion that the meeting wasn’t something ordinary.

John was patiently waiting outside the building, dressed in his jeans and leather jacket and with his hands shoved in his pants pockets. His eyes gleamed at the sight of me, but his expression remained grave.

“I’m here” I smiled in spite of myself when John received me with a kiss in the head. “What’s up?”

“I found something out that I think you should know” He pressed a hand to my back, signaling for me to begin walking.

“Something? About what?” We walked beside one another, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“You’ll see” John opened the door for me, so I stepped into the hotel.

We slowly advanced through the lobby, even if his silent demeanor was anguishing me. It was strange enough returning to that place, but the current situation made it feel surreal. Looking ahead, the distance that separated us from Charon seemed too much.

“Is it something bad?”

“No”

“It’s something good then?”

“No…”

John briefly locked eyes with me, but focused up ahead as we arrived to the counter at the reception. My stomach felt queasy with anticipation.

“Is the manager in?” He asked Charon, who looked from him to me.

“Yes, sir” The receptionist nodded, his eyes still fixed on me in a way I didn’t really understand. “He’s waiting for you in the roof”

“Thank you” That said, John took me by the hand and walked me to the elevator.

I gulped as we stood there until John pressed the button and the doors closed before our eyes. I assumed it was something I had to see for myself, but the secrecy of the matter was making me anxious.

“Your house is safe now, by the way” John gently squeezed my hand. “They shouldn’t bother you again. They definitely won’t be back”

“W-What do you mean they shouldn't be back?"

“I sent a message" Was all John said in response, his eyes focused on the numbers that displayed on the screen to showcase the current floor.

I had to hold on tighter to his hand for stability when I got slightly dizzy at what he might have done in my name.

“S-Sent a message?” I tugged at his hand to force him to look at me. "Or took care of it?"

His eyes landed on mine, portraying that soft look he had lately whenever he glanced at me. However, this time there was a hint of determination in them.

"Sent a message" He seriously replied, giving me an understanding look.

“Okay” I sighed in relief just as a little bell rang announcing we had arrived.

The elevator doors opened and we exited it together, still hand in hand.

I had never really been at the roof, and it was lovely. It was decorated with impeccable taste and attentive care, and the view from up high was marvelous.

Winston sat at the table that occupied the middle space, and he was sipping from a tea cup. He eyed us as we approached him, motioning for us to sit.

John and I moved in silence, taking a seat in front of him and politely waiting.

Winston opened a folder that rested over the table and pulled out a file, throwing it back on the table in front of me. I eyed it cautiously, feeling John’s gaze on me.

I gasped when I recognized the photo and the name on the front.

“What is this?” I held it up and waved it in Winston’s face. “And why do you want me to see this now?”

“It was John’s idea” Winston calmly gestured over to him. “He insisted that you should see it”

Knowing that John would have a good reason for it, I set the file back on the table and took my time looking at the picture and the name below it. It was a man with light eyes and dark brown hair. The words under it read ‘Thomas Dawson’.

“I wanted to know how he died” John said, although his voice seemed to come from far away as I passed the pages with trembling fingers. “So I asked Winston about it and he showed me this file”

“He was great at his job” Winston added. “But he got out when his daughter was born”

I felt my bottom lip trembling, so I swallowed the lump in my throat to avoid getting teary eyed in front of the two of them. I hid my emotions by fixing my eyes on the papers, even if the words were getting blurry.

“He…” I had to clear my throat when my voice sounded hoarse. “He retired for me”

“He did” John was fully aware of the impact my father’s past had on me.

“Then how did he die?” I rapidly turned the pages that recorded all his jobs to go to the very last one.

I never knew how he died either, but I had always assumed Gaige had something to do with it since he wouldn’t stop pestering me about that debt. Now, however, things didn’t seem that clear. Especially not with John’s careful demeanor, like he was almost afraid to tell me.

Their silence was deafening, so I looked up at them, not caring about my watery eyes anymore. Winston seemed calm still, but John was frowning.

“Was it a marker?” I guessed, staring at the latter and demanding an answer.

“No” He gravely said. “Someone killed him out of the blue”

“Apparently acting outside of Gaige’s orders too” Winston continued, tapping his finger over a specific spot on the papers. “Someone by that name”

I was suddenly glad that I was sitting down, because my knees would have refused to keep holding my weight when I read the name. My throat went dry.

“Simone Brasher” I read in a whisper, feeling my face draining from all blood.

“Do you know her?” There was alarm in John’s voice as he gingerly placed a hand on my shoulder.

I let out a sarcastic chuckle, focusing back on him.

“Remember when I went to your house, injured, and nearly died because of some ‘business gone wrong’?” He nodded slowly, frowning in concern. “That was her”

I noticed John and Winston exchanging a glance.

All my anxiety was now gone, replaced with burning anger and a thirst for revenge. That harpy would get what she deserved now.

I slammed the file closed and stood up, starting to walk away. I only looked at Winston briefly as a way to say goodbye before heading back for the elevator.

“Elizabeth!” John called out behind me, but I didn’t stop.

My intentions were to shut him off and leave, but he managed to get inside the elevator after I had pressed the button and right before the doors closed.

“Elizabeth, what are you doing?” He demanded to know, a dangerous look of warning present in his expression.

“What do you think?”

“You’re not going after her”

“Yes, I am”

“No, you’re not”

“Why did you tell me this anyway? What did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t know you knew her! I just wanted to help you, to make you see your father cared enough to retire!” He raised his voice a little, which resonated in the small space. “I only wanted to give you some peace of mind, not push you in this direction… I was trying to do something right”

“Well, you did something wrong” I noticed the exact moment my words impacted on him, as the shift was noticeable in his eyes. “You didn’t give me peace of mind”

John frowned and looked away, gritting his teeth. Then, after taking a deep breath, he continued speaking.

“You’re not going after her” Were his only words, still not establishing eye contact again.

“I’m sorry, John, but she has it coming” I wished he understood what that discovery implied, everything it had shaken up.

“That won’t bring your father back” His gruff voice sounded deeper than usual.

“You don’t understand! This isn’t only about my father” I absently watched the floor numbers go down. “That woman has been terrorizing me for years, and enjoying every second of it”

“Liz, don’t” John urgently grabbed me by the arm. “You’re better than that, remember?”

“I think I’m not” I shook my head, trying to get him to let go of me. “I’m done sitting still, she’s responsible for everything”

“You’re not a killer” John seemed rattled, and I could have sworn he was begging with his eyes. “You didn’t kill me”

“I… It’s my only way out of this” The doors opened and I took a step.

“It’s not” John held me back, tightening his grip on my arm.

“I need to do something” I knew it was the anger talking, which fueled my actions and made me feel capable of what used to be unthinkable.

“Think things through” He pleaded, that soft hint returning to his eyes.

“I already made up my mind” I strongly pulled at his hand, being freed from his grasp.

I felt his eyes burning in my nape as I walked the lobby, not bothering to say goodbye to Charon. I was determined, I was done being scared and fragile.

Being Elizabeth Dawson hadn’t worked out for me. I had spent years suffering, resigning myself to my fate. Thinking that my father had neglected me in favor of that life, that he didn’t care enough about me to give me a better life.

But now, knowing he was murdered in cold blood by that bitch Simone, I had a chance of setting things right. Of being in control of my own fate, of doing something. Maybe I needed to be more like John Wick. Maybe I needed to do what the Boogeyman would do.

Tag list: @lea-kenneth / @lookinsidemyhead / @ciccithedreamer / @writerandee / @contanto-que-voce-me-queira / @recentcrib8422 / @anita-e-taylor / @elena-mayfair / @fyspidey / @mell-bell / @yes-captainstark / @quentinbecksass / @buckysjuicyplums / @misfvit / @e-lysium / @alluna-naozumi / @alainabooks143 / @superbateclipseclod / @angelenemies / @hopeinahotbox / @deaadenn / @spacepari / @piaeforever21 / @thecraziestcrayon / @homeybadger

#fate is sealed #fis #fanfiction #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #series #john wick series #john wick x reader #john wick x oc #john wick x original character #original character #no reader insert #suspense #action #romance #drama #enemies to lovers

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broadwaycantdie · 5 years

Text

Disneyland / Part 2...The Destination! - Newsies (Pride) Month . Day 9

( all ) + ( modern ) + ( hc story )

a/n: i wanna go to disneyland so bad // also ah disney has pride merch now that’s so cute ! // ps. i will not make a 3rd part of the ride home cause that’s already too much lmao i just had a lot of fun with the road trip part i wanted to split it up

( this is part two of them actually at disneyland, click here for the road trip and journey of them getting here...it’s a wild one )

warnings: none

background: Every year the newsies all get together and go on their annual Disneyland trip. They drive from Manhattan to Anaheim because it’s cheaper than buying 20+ plane tickets. They also have a collective jar in the lodging house that everyone puts money into to help pay. Davey plans the whole thing for months and somehow things still go wrong. It’s never not a wild ride with their family. But every year they still enjoy it.

——————————————————————————

before they left the hotel, Davey made them plan everything out

it wasn’t a strict plan, but he knew that total freedom meant total chaos

he made a set of rules

rule #1 : you cannot be alone, stay with your buddy or a group at all times

rule #2 : meet back at the entrance after the fireworks so everyone can be counted and we can find people who are lost or don’t make it back in time and we can go to the hotel together

rule #3 : have fun

of course Davey would add “have fun” as a rule

he’d forget if he didn’t

they could barely sleep, everyone was so excited

so they got to the parks bright and early at 8am

they grouped themselves off

they ended up with 6 main groups

Jack, Davey, Bill, Darcy, Katherine, Sarah, and Les

Crutchie, Buttons, Henry, and Kenny

Specs, Romeo, Jojo, and Tommy Boy

Smalls, Sniper, and Finch

Mush and Kid Blink

Spot, Race, Albert, Elmer, Mike, Ike, Hotshot, Bart, and Myron

sometimes people broke into smaller groups depending on who wanted to go on what rides, when someone wanted to eat or didn’t, or when some people just wanted to be alone together

the smaller groups stayed together the whole time—Smalls’ group, Crutchie’s group, and Mush’s group—but the bigger groups sometime split up

especially Spot’s group

they started together but by the 3rd ride they split up

they would periodically meet up throughout the day to eat or ride certain rides

mainly the couples split up and the single friends stayed together

Davey and Jack left their group for a little while unexpectedly and it was actually Albert who found them making out in a bathroom stall

“Oh! So it’s like that now, huh? Way to go guys! Didn’t know you had it in ya!”

“You’re not gonna tell anyone, right, Dasilva? You know we aren’t usually like this...it just kinda happened yanno, happiest place on Earth and, uh, we were feeling that.”

“Oh, I can tell! Might wanna pick some tighter pants next time, Jacobs!”

the cocky bastard walked out, finally having something on Davey

he’d never let them live that down

Smalls’ favorite ride is Peter Pan’s Flight

they love that ride with all their heart and their group didn’t mind waiting in like for 45 minutes just to ride it

everyone—and i mean everyone—played heads up while waiting in line

it was just a given—that’s what you do

Race, Spot, Albert, and Elmer all got in a teacup together

it was absolutely chaos

while everyone else spun along nicely and enjoyed the ride

these boys used all of their combined strength—which was a lot—and spun themselves as fast as possible the whole time

Ike almost got sick just watching them

Katherine is a rollercoaster junkie

she rides every coaster and can’t get enough

Sarah also liked rollercoasters!

just not as much

but she does ride every one with Katherine and boy do they have fun

“Wow, I haven’t screamed that much since we left”

Katherine almost choked

( they shared a “special” night together right before they left so they could get a fill and not be as tempted like some other people )

everyone bought ears

it was like an unspoken rule that you had to get a pair every year

this year was special though

this was the first year that disney released its pride collection

so of course everyone was on that

Race spent most of his money on pride merch

he got rainbow shirt, ears, sunglasses, socks, and a pin

he was so happy about the collection, Spot secretly bought a pair of earrings from it and put one in just to see the look of joy on his boyfriends face

it was worth the money

Crutchie ate so many churros

half of his money went to just churros

worth it tho

Bill and Darcy really liked The Little Mermaid ride

obviously

Bill’s love of fish and Darcy’s love of mythical creatures

what other ride would they like more?

they cuddled up close in the seashell and watched the ride play out with so much happiness in their eyes

Sarah and Katherine took the iconic photo of “let’s kiss in front of the castle” and it was the cutest goddamn thing of all time

Mush and Kid Blink made out on Rodger Rabbit’s Cartoon Spin ride

but what’s new

everyone at some point rode Splash Mountain

it’d be a sin if you didn’t

Spot and Race rode it together

Race made Spot sit up front cause his big body could block most of the water

also because Spot was wearing a white t-shirt

“Damn, babe! You haven’t been that wet since the car ride here!”

Specs, Romeo, Jojo, and Tommy Boy all rode the Matterhorn together

and Specs glasses flew off his face during one of the quick turns

after the ride everyone was panicking but he just calmly pulled out a second pair of glasses from his backpack and continued on with his day; unbothered

Crutchie would never admit if his leg hurt but about halfway through the day while walking to the next ride he fell

his leg just gave out and he just sat on the floor trying not to cry

everyone with him helped him up and Buttons got him a wheelchair

it wasn’t all bad though

Crutchie and Buttons got to go to the front of all the lines!

somehow everyone got the idea to meet in toontown at the same time

everyone decided to get embroidered hats

most people got their name or the date or something cute

like Mush and Kid Blink got matching ones that said “Blush”

or how Kenny got one that said “Ken-Ken” cause that’s his nickname of his nickname

and Jojo and Tommy Boy got each other’s pet names on theirs—Jojo’s says “Darling” and Tommy Boy’s says “Sweetheart”

while Jack and Davey got the date of when they first met because it was instantly love at first sight

but some of these dumbasses...are dumbasses

Hotshot would never stoop down to that level of stupidity

so he got together the Brooklyn Boys and got hats that said just that

Mike and Ike have been dumbasses since birth

so their hats got their full names on them

you know

Mike’s said “Michael and Ichael”

and Ike’s said “Isaac and Misaac”

“Those aren’t your real names!”

“And? How would you know my names not Michael Misaac Garcia? And his isn’t Isaac Ichael Garcia? Huh?”

“I—“

Albert and Elmer didn’t get anything too crazy

but they did get a something that just they would understand

they got the date of the day they lost their virginity to each other

and when people ask they just say it’s the first time they said “i love you” to each other

and now Spot and Race

do these boys have ANY chill? ever?

they literally got a sex joke on theirs

Spot’s said “Calvary’s Coming”

and Race’s said “I’m Calvary”

dumbasses

but to even it out, they also got cute ones

cause they are a couple who can do both

so they got “tu sei amore” and “you are love “ on their second pair—Race’s was in Italian because that’s how he always says it to Spot to make him swoon, and Spot’s is the same in English for when he repeats it back

everyone was so scared of getting lost or losing someone

not only because that’s completely terrifying

but because Davey would never let them hear the end of it

for extra caution, some people held hands to not be separated—Katherine and Sarah, Jojo and Tommy Boy, Mush and Kid Blink, Bill and Darcy—some just had a mutual understanding to not wonder off—Specs and Romeo, Jack and Davey, Hotshot and Mike, Albert and Elmer—and some...well not some...just Race

Race was on a fucking leash

like one of those monkey backpacks with the leash for children who wander off

cause every year Race gets lost so this year no one was gonna risk it

Spot holds on to the leash and everytime Race starts running towards another ride he yanks him back

he’s fallen a few times

and every time, mr. dramatic himself will pull the “woe is me” routine and wouldn’t get up until Spot lifted him up

he tried to get Spot to carry him and it only worked once when he actually cut his knee on the ground

it might’ve looked weird but hey, at least Race didn’t get lost this year

when it got dark they all went to the firework show and watched the magic

all the couples decided to be cute and take the “kissing my partner at the fireworks” pics

and they were all fucking adorable

some were soft and cute while others were a little saucier

but they all came out really good

they all met up where Davey told them to meet and they actually all made it there in one piece!

what a surprise! actually!

they all went back to the hotel full of joy, love, and happiness

and they couldn’t wait to go back next year <3

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behardonyourself · 4 years

Text

I AM AN IRONMAN...

I don’t even know how long I have been waiting to write this post. I think I launched my website in March or so, and I remember thinking how cool it will be if I get to write this post a few days after Ironman Arizona.

The journey is well documented on my blog and my Facebook page. I think everyone gets it - I was in the worst shape of my life. A lot of people that haven’t seen me since I left San Antonio in 2013 may not get that, but I hadn’t touched a weight since October of that year. To be honest, I hadn’t done much of anything since then.

First off, I’m not completely crazy. I’m ultimately just some dude. Completely human. I’ve told my story about running in December and not being able to go 1/4 of a mile. That’s completely real. Now, I kept this one quiet, but it’s important to understand that I thought about making a change in October of 2018. I took off running and cramped IMMEDIATELY. It wasn’t 500 feet. It hurt so bad. I then started to convincing myself that “I’m not a runner”, that maybe I was too heavy, running wasn’t healthy, the injuries over the years have taken their toll, etc, excuse after excuse. This journey that happened almost never got started. I was ashamed and embarrassed, but still felt comfort in the idea that I’d figure another way out “to get back in shape”.

I mention that fateful five hundred feet because I know a few of my friends have decided that they wanted to run and felt that exact same feeling of excruciating agony and walked away from any idea that they would eventually find comfort in the most basic exercise that we do as humans.

Many of you are familiar with the struggles in my personal life - 10 days into me actually being committed, my wife fell off of a ladder and absolutely destroyed her tibia, fibula, and just about every other part of her leg. At that time, our daughter Ava was only 5 months old. A lot of people use kids as an excuse not to workout, and trust me, it was tempting. Lisa was immobile. Ava was a handful (all 5 months olds are). Peyton had to be driven to school 30 minutes away (and picked up). So finding time wasn’t an option - the only way to do what I needed to do was to make time. Again, all of these things are on my blog but I think they are important for context.

So my story isn’t that of a runner or a cyclist that had dabbled in a few triathlons and decided to take the next step. Actually, it’s the opposite. I had NEVER ridden a road bike until April. I hadn’t run since 2004. I hadn’t swam a lap in a pool since 1995.

I simply knew I had to do something that scared me and motivated me enough to make me change.

You know what? I did that - in December I signed up for a 5k Spartan race. Really. That was in June and I signed up for it thinking it was going to take me every damn bit of that 6 months to get ready. I’ve called it the race that changed my life. I started training like an actual Spartan. Funny thing is that the body responded quickly, and a few weeks later, I realized that I’d probably be ok to do Spartan by June. So I went absolutely insane, and in January, decided that I wanted something bigger. I was standing in the Bahamas with several co-workers, and they hadn’t seen me in a couple of months due to Lisa’s injury. Juan asked me “what are you training for” and I told him either an ultra marathon, or an Ironman, or “something”. I think he though I was crazy.

Yep, Ironman it is.

Now, if 6 months was plenty of time to get me ready for a 5k race, there’s no one in the world that would’ve believed that I could possibly do an Ironman by the end of 2019. Until about 9pm on November 24, I wasn’t sure that I could do it. I didn’t know the first thing about triathlons, much less Ironman.

Obviously, I did that tiny sprint tri in Denton - and with a 200 yard swim, I hesitate to even refer to it as a triathlon, but it was a “race” and it was a great experience and I met some awesome people - Jeff, Brad, Michael, and a few other people that I’ve actually become crazy close with.

In true Boyd fashion, I never hired a coach. Now, I had 400 people telling me how important it was to hire a coach and I had to hire a coach, and there’s no way to do it without a coach, and you are 10x more likely to succeed with a coach, and a coach, a coach, a coach, a coach, a coach. Every fucking day someone told me how important it was. And you know what? It probably was. So I chatted with people from every sport and talked to triathletes. Lisa was who I talked to about swimming. A guy I grew up with in the mountains of Harlan County, Jon Carroll - was my go-to for running. I discussed bike stuff with many different people. I was fortunate enough to have a few former Tri pros be willing to answer questions for me, but typically they told me that I was doing way too much, that I am hard headed, that I’d end up injured, that they’d suggest something different, etc. One told me to stop asking him for advice because I wasn’t following it. Hell, I even had a sherpa - my buddy Bart always offered to come pick me up when I broke down on my bike. Luckily, I figured out how to fix most things, but he always checked on me, always listened to my boring training stories, always encouraged me and he and his wife even prepared my food the night before I left because I SUCK at cooking.

So who attacks something like Ironman totally blind and without a clear cut plan? Yeah, I’m totally that guy.

But this was never about training my body - Ironman was my way to make my mind as hard as steel and I knew that if I put my body through it every single day and just refused to quit, that finishing Ironman would just be a formality. While other triathletes are worried about all of these stats and protocols, I was just worried about getting up and getting the fuck after it every single day. Completely pushing myself to the limit as many times as possible hoping to do my best to replicate what it would be like on that training course.

Was it the perfect way to train? No. Of course not. I wouldn’t suggest it, and most people would probably do better by paying someone with experience.

For me though? I wanted to shoulder every single bit. I wanted to risk the blame if I failed for the treasure when I crossed the line. I am a self-taught guy. I taught myself to bench press 600lbs. I didn’t pay someone else a dime to get my dead lift to 800lbs when that was my focus. I just went in every single day and spent hours upon hours of forcing myself to become strong. This was no difference. I ran until I couldn’t, and then ran some more. I just didn’t stop swimming. No distance was too far on my bike, and I always pushed harder and harder.

The funny shit is that I completely understand and am educated in the science behind the training. I completely get it. But I also knew that my body would follow my mind into the depths of hell if it was strong enough to go there.

In December, Ironman seemed ridiculous. That guy was 270lbs (I was 201 the day I left for Arizona). That guy was not doing an Ironman, but he had to become someone that could bare the crucible of 140.6 miles.

Whenever you’re putting yourself through the pressure cooker of a long ass training cycle, you’ll have distinct moments that will ultimately make you or break you. I remember mine vividly. Running was rarely “fun” or “easy” for me. It was “more fun than other times” and “easier”, but never EASY. I can think of times I would come to the intersection of where I could come to my house or I could go out for another lap and add another 1.5 to 2 miles if I turned left. I always turned away from my house when I had to make that decision. I can’t count how many times I decided “one more lap” in the pool and it turned into 1000 more yards. I’d cramp and keep swimming. I knew that something shitty could happen in Town Lake in Tempe so I wanted to be prepared. Something shitty did happen, and I conquered it. The bike? I fell in love with it immediately. It was never a task or a chore. It is my love and it’s something I’ll stick with for the rest of my life.

Now it’s time to be completely transparent here. I was totally overwhelmed with the idea of the swim. On the day before the race, we did our practice swim and I freaked the fuck out. I panicked. Now, I swam at a decent pace, but I knew that if I didn’t calm my mind, that shit would break me and I’d have to live with knowing I didn’t get through the first part of the race. Getting kicked in the face did not help. I was terrified all day Saturday and all morning Sunday. But I had to attack it - fear grows when you give it time and I knew that if I didn’t conquer that swim it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

On race day, I felt pretty good. I was nervous about the swim - not the distance. I had swam the distance a few times. Never in open water, and never with 3000 other people, but I knew I had the endurance.

Racing is a lot like life. You can be doing everything right and shit will happen. You can use it as an excuse and convince yourself that is why you didn’t succeed or you can use it for energy. I was given a gift of an excuse just a few minutes into the race when another racer and I were tangled up, and he completely pulled my goggles off. I remember thinking “you have got to be kidding me”. Of anything that could happen, I would’ve ranked this the absolute worst thing. I swam to a support canoe and told the guy “I’m not quitting, just calming my mind”. Again, I was freaked the fuck out but I knew that if I was going to swim this 2.4 mile race in 63 degree water, it was going to be without goggles - so I put my face in the water, and started banging the fuck out of that stuff.

My eyes were killing me - probably from the toxic waste that is Tempe Town Lake, and a bit from the cold water, but I kept trucking on. For much of the race, I had to utilize my backstroke out of necessity - not from an oxidative standpoint, but to give my eyes a break. Once my eyes cleared and I was able to see my Garmin, I realized that I was easily going to make time. Not the 1 hour 25 minutes I had expected, but under the 2 hour 20 minutes that are allowed from the time you entered the water - once my goggles came off, that was the target. Nothing else matters - survive the water, get to the bike.

The funny thing is that at one point in the lake, I just laughed. I thought “who the fuck loses their goggles that early and keeps going?” Me, motherfucker. I sang, smiled, and just kept moving forward.

The best story of the day came after the final turn. I had someone frantically yelling or grunting. Now, I had ear plugs in, so I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, so my first thought was that I had somehow missed a buoy and the support crew was going to send me back. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Someone had actually caught my goggles and he recognized that they must be mine since I didn’t have any, and he gave them to me. Yes, they were my actual ROKAS. Kind of disoriented, I put them on my head. Funny thing is I actually pulled them over my eyes when I got out of the lake (the swim was over).

After that, I just savored the day. The bike course was great and I was very fast. I smiled, chatted with other riders, pounded the fuck out of the hills and cruised down them. At no point on that bike did I feel tired, dehydrated, or in any kind of pain or danger. Maintenance was always on my mind, but I didn’t focus on what I feared - I focused on what I wanted. And what I wanted was to become and Ironman on this day.

The run was much the same. I kept waiting to hurt or feel pain, but I didn’t. I was in great spirits. I met a guy Mike on the run course after he and I kept passing each other, and at one point, we just stayed together and talked the whole way. Funny that he is from San Antonio and we have a mutual friend on Facebook. My goal was finishing - I felt great, but at about the 13 mile mark, I caught a little twitch in my calf. I did not want that to become a cramp that could shut me down, so I went conservative, ignored time, and we just kept a simple, easy pace to get across the finish line. It was a great time, and I was excited to see that his fiancee also crossed the finish line to complete her first Ironman as well.

In the military, we used to say that you don’t rise to the level of your expectations, you fall to the level of your training. My training was the crucible that hardened me for that race. Race day was legitimately a formality that was standing between me and reaching a bucket list goal of becoming an Ironman.

Disclaimer, I hate stupid positive sayings that people that have never accomplished shit come up with. Laws of attraction bullshit, eat an elephant one bite at a time, etc. Motherfucker, thinking about being an Ironnman would’ve kept me fat and depressed. It took me breaking myself down and looking in the mirror and accepting that I had become a fat piece of shit to get this done. Man, fuck all of that happy thought nonsense. Attack, attack, attack. Figure out the bullshit details later. You tear 10 bites off that motherfucker if you are fortunate enough to get to that beast. Doing that shit on social media isn’t the same thing as kicking ass in real life. That “rise and grind” post at 4am doesn’t mean shit if you pull the covers back over your head. You have to go out and suffer. Your body will react to that invigorating workout on a machine in a nice gym, but your mind will only respond to going into the darkest cave that you can find. Calories burned doesn’t always mean that you’ve hardened the mind enough to make sure that you’re actually ready for what may come at you.

Race day was simply amazing. I took it in. I smiled. I thanked people. I encouraged people. I didn’t let one second pass me by. I was actually sad when I hit that red carpet, but to hear Mike Reilly say “Boyd Myers, you are an Ironman” was completely surreal. I can’t put it into words.

The crazy thing is that I don’t feel like I’ve arrived or that I’ve made it to anything. Hell, part of me thinks “Why have you squandered to much time? What else am I capable of?”

My official finish time was 15 hours and 3 minutes. Finishing under 17 hours is all that mattered to me - to become and Ironman.

What’s next? Haha, well, that’s where it gets fun. I’m looking at Ultraman. In short, it’s a 3 day race: -Day 1: 6.2 mile swim and 90 mile bike ride -Day 2: 170 mile bike ride -Day 3: 52.4 mile run

I am going to take a few days to weigh options and look at timing. I am considering taking a real season of training and prep, but I do know me, and I’ll just get back the fuck after it. No, don’t advise me on what I “should” do, because that’s not really how I’ve lived my life. I won’t listen.

Look, there is not a fucking thing in the world standing between you and your goals except the excuses that you keep selling yourself on as to why you can’t reach them. That’s it - we are capable of so much more than we know. People label me as uber-driven, obsessed, crazy, and a lot of other things, but I don’t have anything in me that isn’t in anyone else in the world. Whatever you’ve been thinking about, attack it. It doesn’t have to be Ironman. It doesn’t have to be fitness related. All that I know that is if I didn’t take those first steps, I would’ve never crossed that finish line. Fuck, in December of 2018, a 140.6 mile race was all but impossible. But now, I just know I can do so much more.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask!

#ironman #ironmanarizona #iamanironman #triathlete #swimbikerun #ultraendurance #motivation #goals #transformation #mybattles #xl

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ficdirectory · 6 years

Text

The Crossing (Disuphere series #3) Chapter 41

Scene XV: Some Enchanted Evening

Mom’s just sent the pictures around to everyone’s phones, when Dominique’s own chimes with a text from Mariana:

Break?

“Yeah, of course. Let me show you,” Dominique says, leading the way to her room.

She flips the light on. The room looks bare without any of her stuff in it. But it’s still obviously hers: the bed. The curtains. Roberta follows them inside and Francesca’s on her heels.

“Hey. What are we doing?” she wonders. “Whoa. Is this your room? No fair, why can’t I see it?”

“Because Mariana needs some quiet for a while. Remember, accommodations?” Dominique prompts.

“Oh yeah,” she says, realization dawning and understanding taking over previously hurt feelings. “I’ll close the door. And I’ll make sure they save you some cake,” Francesca offers magnanimously.

Mariana nods.

After Francesca’s gone, Mariana meets Dominique’s eyes: “You don’t have to stay.”

“You did,” Dominique reminds. “We don’t leave each other alone. So I’ll just sit, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Mariana nods.

Dominique sits quietly with Mariana, offering her bed, made with fresh sheets and comforter, should Mariana want to rest. She looks tired enough to seriously consider taking Dominique up on it. So Dominique gets up and turns down the blankets.

“So tempting,” Mariana smiles, sighing.

“So get in. I won’t let Roberta sit on your face. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks,” Mariana laughs.

“No problem. I do what I can.” Dominique reassures.

She sits with Roberta in her lap. Sings to her softly. The song pours out of her: Almost There from The Princess and the Frog, and she stops herself belatedly.

“Why’d you stop?” Mariana asks.

“Because, I’m remembering you came here ‘cause you want quiet, and I’m making you listen to me…”

“You’re not making me. Your voice is nice,” Mariana insists.

So Dominique tries not to be self conscious and keeps singing. Roberta likes it, especially when she goes into Another Day from RENT. “There’s only us,” she sings gently. “There’s only this. Forget regret. Or life is yours to miss.”

“No other road, no other way. No day but today…” Mariana sings back.

They re-emerge in time for cake. Dominique’s shocked that no one’s cut into it yet. That Jesus, Francesca, Mom and Dad are all just sitting around the table visiting quietly with each other.

“You didn’t have to wait…” Mariana objects.

“We wanted to,” Jesus tells her, getting up to pull out chairs for her. For Dominique. Dominique catches something flash in his eyes. Watches his knuckles go white on the back of the chair. He looks terribly blank.

Dudley licks Jesus’s arm - the one closest to him. Leans hard into Jesus.

Dominique feels stuck beside Jesus, not knowing what to do. Her chair’s still pushed in, and he seems frozen behind it.

“Jesus? Can I help?” Dominique wonders.

Francesca gets up and walks over to Jesus. Works her hand underneath one of his, so that he’s holding onto her, not the chair. “Buddy? Jesus? You don’t have to stand there. You can sit down.”

“But the chair….” Jesus offers, hoarse.

“I got it,” Dominique insists softly.

Francesca takes Jesus’s hand and leads him back to his own chair. “Can I sit with you?” she asks.

And it hits Dominique what Francesca’s doing. Giving him a reason to sit. It works. With Dudley still licking him and Francesca asking to sit with him, Jesus eventually can sit down. He’s there a few minutes before he seems clear again.

“Sorry,” he offers. “That uh, happens sometimes…”

“No need to apologize,” Mom reassures. This whole time, her and Dad have kept busy, getting bowls, silverware, ice cream and bringing the cake to the table. They know how to give space when it’s needed. Get when their presence - or staring, especially Dad’s - might do more harm than good.

“Did you know that your dad is adopted?” Francesca asks Dominique, genuinely curious, from Jesus’s lap.

Dominique’s close enough that she can hear Jesus’s quiet words to his sister: “Buddy, remember what we said about private information? For some people, being adopted is like that.”

“Oh…” Francesca offers, embarrassed. “I feel bad. I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t mind talking about it,” Dad offers. “It’s not something I’m ashamed of. It’s okay.”

“We don’t tell you this stuff so you feel bad, just so you’ll know if there’s a next time,” Mariana adds.

“Who’s ready for some cake?” Mom asks. She takes her time asking who wants just cake, who wants just ice cream and who wants both.

“Wait. You didn’t make a wish...like we said yesterday…”

“I said yesterday I don’t really make wishes,” Dominique reminds, with a smile.

“But if you could,” Francesca presses. “Maybe just close your eyes and wish one before your mom cuts the cake…”

“I have everything I want,” Dominique says and means it. But a small voice inside cautions: almost. It’s enough for Dominique to close her eyes. To wish. To mean it. Then she asks for cake and ice cream, both.

Her wish is private. Just for her. A wish that maybe, someday, she’ll be able to think of Taylor and not ache. Maybe the thought of her baby will one day simply exist as part of her. Not as a secret. Not as a raw wound. Not as evidence of Dominique’s own failure. But just as a memory.

Jesus is adding lemon cookies to his ice cream to see if they’ll go with the cake.

Francesca adds a chocolate chip one to her ice cream and asks: “Did you wish something?”

“I did,” Dominique nods.

“What?”

“I can’t tell, or it won’t come true…” Dominique ventures.

“Well then don’t tell me. But you should really try some cookie ice cream. Here, Mariana, try this…” Francesca holds out her spoon and Mariana eats the bite of ice cream, closing her eyes and practically moaning at how good it is.

“You kids get along really well,” Mom says, impressed.

“Oh, we don’t always,” Mariana insists.

“Jesus and Brandon do not get along. Or Jesus and Jude. Or Jesus and Callie…” Francesca rattles off. “Jesus and Moms...or me and Moms...or Mariana and Moms…”

“I was gonna say...it sounded for a minute there like I was the reason nobody got along,” Jesus teases lightly.

“No. They are. We get along because we love each other for real. With respect added to it. I don’t know about everybody else...I think they love us but without respect...which doesn’t really feel like love at all.” She glances up from stirring her ice cream into soup. “I get it now, Dominique.”

“You do,” Dominique nods.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you four love and respect each other both,” Mom praises.

Dominique’s a little shocked to hear herself added in with Francesca, Mariana and Jesus, but she tries not to show it.

Before they know it, it’s time to go. Way past 8 PM, but Jesus has texted Lena that Francesca’s spending the night with him and they’re on their way out. Dominique wrangles Roberta, gives Mom a hug and waves to Dad, thanking him for dinner and the cake.

“My pleasure, babe.” he says.

“You need anything, you call me. Text me. Just get in touch,” Mom insists.

“Okay, I will,” Dominique promises.

Dad’s moved to hold the door open for them. He offers first Mariana, and then Francesca, a hand down the front steps.

Jesus is already in the car with Dudley, having thanked her parents for having them over. Mariana and Francesca are on their way to him when Dad surprises her, offering her a hand down the steps, too.

She looks at it. At his face. Reaches out. Takes it. Her heart pounding the whole time. She doesn’t let just anyone hold her hand. Knows they feel different. She’s pretty positive Dad hasn’t held her hand at all, or tried, since before.

“I remember, babe,” he says softly. “I remember all the time. Losing you. Finding you.”

“Hating me?” she asks in a tiny voice.

“Loving you,” he insists, choking on the words. “Always.”

“I’m different…” she starts, hesitant. By now she’s down the steps and they’re just standing in the small amount of porch light.

“I love different,” Dad says, like it’s really true.

Hesitantly, she reaches out. Wraps her arms around him. “Thank you,” she manages, her voice breaking.

“Thank you,” Dad says back. “I know letting me close isn’t easy. And I want you to know that I know that. And I appreciate you always trying so hard for me. Even if you never hugged me again? I’m still the guy who gets to call you his daughter. I get to love you. And that’s the biggest joy in my life.”

Dominique can’t speak. Tears block her throat and burn her nose. But she squeezes his hand once, tight. And then she lets go, walking to her car.

#fic: the crossing

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sp4c3-0ddity · 7 years

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If you did 32 or 34 for plance that would be AMAZING

I got you. Also I did both. (32) is a college AU, (34) is post-season 4. Enjoy!!

(32) I think you are beautiful and I would like to kiss you. I can think up some clever lines, if you’d prefer. But I wanted to say that, first. (None of those lines seemed to be about you or me.)

Flirting is one thing, courtship something entirely different.

It takes Lance too long to realize it, when he somehow nets himself his first girlfriend. Plaxum is pretty, and smart, and passionate, but within days of going out - fun days, undoubtedly, of holding hands and stealing kisses between classes - he starts seeing their mutual attraction as something shallow and not what he thought he wanted, not when the butterflies in his stomach stop flapping their wings every time he sees her, not when she frowns at one of his jokes and asks him to explain it, or when neither of them can muster much feigned interest in the other’s favorite subjects.

Their relationship fizzles out quickly, and Lance tells Hunk and Pidge, “Maybe I just liked the chase.”

“Or maybe,” Hunk says with a pointed look, “you were with the wrong person.” He glances at Pidge, as if expecting her to add something, but she just shrugs, her attention fixed on her computer screen.

“What are you doing anyway?” Lance asks her. He sits in the chair next to her and leans into her space to inspect the screen, raising an eyebrow when he recognizes the site. “Pidge, are you on reddit?”

Pidge doesn’t shrink away from him; in fact, she seems to shift closer. But she scowls deeply and complains, “Some asshole on the Internet is bitching about women in STEM fields.”

Lance laughs, reaching up to ruffle her hair fondly. “Yeah, you would,” he says.

Pidge bats his hand away, but the fact that she smiles feels like a victory.

When Hunk rolls his eyes, Lance shoots him a questioning look, but he only smirks.

Whatever; his friends are allowed to be weird sometimes.

—

It creeps over Lance like most important realizations do: slowly building, then all at once.

It starts familiar, the jealousy that he feels too often burning in his chest when he sees Pidge talking to a boy in one of her classes. He’s walking with her, or really just behind her, while they discuss a group project. She makes a joke about their professor, and the boy laughs.

Lance doesn’t get the joke - it’s programmer humor - but he wants to, only so he can laugh with Pidge.

He brushes off the feeling when her classmate bids them goodbye, and she waves. When Pidge turns back to Lance, she smiles and asks him what he wants to eat for lunch.

It’s such an innocent, ordinary question, but the warmth of fondness fills his chest, pushing away the jealousy until he’s giddy for a reason he can’t quite explain.

They eat at a place off-campus since they both finished classes early that day. Hunk doesn’t join them though since he has a class early in the afternoon, and Lance, absurdly, is happy he has Pidge all to himself.

She chatters about her classes, about her family, and complains that she can’t go home for her brother’s birthday because she has an exam right after. Her foot brushes Lance’s leg as she talks, and he twitches involuntarily. She apologizes and is careful it doesn’t happen again for the rest of the meal, and Lance, disappointed, stretches his legs towards her, trying to tempt fate.

“Hey, since you can’t go home this weekend,” Lance suggests idly, “we should do something. You, me, and Hunk.”

“Oh, yeah?” She leans towards him, munching a French fry. “What do you have in mind?”

“Movie? You’ve been wanting to see that new superhero movie, right?”

Pidge stares at him for a heartbeat, lips parted, but then she says, “How did you know that?”

Lance shrugs, face hot as he flicks the crust on his sandwich for something else to put his attention on. “You mentioned it a few weeks ago and complained you didn’t have time?”

She blinks, surprised. “Oh,” she says. “I don’t remember that.”

“So…do you want to?” He steals a French fry off of her plate - she never finishes them anyway - and as he dips it into her ketchup, he continues, “And before you say you don’t have time, just consider it a study break. Two hours for a movie, maybe another hour for ice cream afterwards.” He smirks, as if he’s already won. “You don’t have to burn yourself out before every exam, you know.”

Pidge pushes her plate towards him, an unspoken invitation to have at the rest of her food, and as he helps himself, she says, “Fine, but I’m buying your ticket.”

“What? No way, I’ll–”

She nudges his shin and grins at him. “You bought my lunch today; it’s my turn.”

Lance slumps, crossing his arms, and sullenly agrees, “Fine.”

—

Hunk starts coughing Friday night, and by Saturday morning he’s used up half a box of tissues and drained two bottles of red Gatorade.

Lance rests his hands on his hips as he stares at his roommate, lounging on the couch with a textbook in his lap. “I’m going to guess you won’t be going to the movie with us?”

Hunk coughs, thick with phlegm. “You guess right,” he says, voice hoarse. He blows his nose and drops the used tissue into the waste basket next to the sofa. “Have fun without me.”

“As if that’s possible,” Lance quips, rolling his eyes.

Hunk laughs, right before it deteriorates into a brief coughing fit. Lance fills a glass with water and brings it to him, and after he drinks half of it, he says, “It is. Just go, and remember me in your vows.”

Lance raises an eyebrow at him. “What vows?” he asks.

Hunk shrugs, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re gonna be late to the movie, and I know you hate missing the trailers.”

“Hmm, true. Take care, buddy.” He shrugs into his jacket on his way out the door.

Pidge already stands outside the small theater that serves the campus population, two tickets in hand. “Is Hunk doing okay?” she asks him as soon as she spots him. “He told me he’s sick.”

“He’ll be fine,” Lance says. “He’s never sick for long.”

A part of him wishes Hunk could’ve made it, but a slightly bigger - and rather guilty - part of him is almost glad that he and Pidge are alone.

Pidge doesn’t seem to mind either, as she grabs his arm and drags him into the theater, her fingers leaving heat on his skin even through the fabric of his jacket. She grins in anticipation, and her excitement about the movie infects him and he finds himself grinning back. She rattles off her theories about the movie while they stand in line to get concessions, and he manages to follow along despite his limited knowledge about its prequels.

Lance beats her to paying for the popcorn, sliding a ten-dollar bill across the counter when her wallet is only halfway out of her purse. She narrows her eyes at him, pouting slightly, and he smirks.

Once they find seats close to the back of the theater - which is fairly empty since the movie has been out for weeks already - Pidge complains, “You have to one-up me already?”

“Fine,” Lance says, locking the bucket of popcorn between his knees. “If you don’t want me to pay for you, you don’t get any popcorn.”

Pidge ignores this and reaches into the bucket, pulling out a tiny handful. She then proceeds to grab his jacket’s hood and drop the kernels into it.

“Hey!” He makes a grab for her hand, almost upending the bucket, but she rescues it and sets it on the floor near her feet, laughing. He stands up and shakes the popcorn from his hood, glaring at her while she just laughs until she’s breathless, her face red and–

Lance’s breath catches and that’s when he knows he’s fucked.

He sits heavily, eyes wide while the realization creeps in. Pidge rests her hand on his arm, asking him if he wants to hold onto the bucket during the movie, but he barely hears her through the blood rushing in his ears.

The trailers start and Lance, who loves watching trailers, can barely pay attention. He’s conscious of Pidge’s presence in a new way, hearing her munch on popcorn, her arm brushing against his since they share an armrest. When Pidge points out a movie - an action comedy - that she thinks he would find interesting, he only nods, offering her a strained smile. She narrows her eyes at him, worried or suspicious or anything in between, but doesn’t question him.

The movie begins with pounding action music, Pidge tensing with excitement, but Lance’s mind still buzzes with facts that he never considered before.

He likes Pidge. Likes Pidge. Likes Pidge.

Why should that surprise you? a voice that sounds suspiciously like Hunk asks. You’ve been friends for years.

She’s not my…type, Lance’s mental voice shoots back.

So what? ‘Types’ are for favorite ice cream flavors and favorite books, not romantic partners.

Lance shoots a glance at Pidge, who watches the movie with rapt attention…until she turns her head to regard him, an eyebrow raised questioningly, a teasing tilt to her lips.

Lips he really wants to kiss.

A blush rises to his cheeks and he whips his head around again, facing forwards, heart pounding so loudly it seems to fill the whole theater during a quiet moment.

Pidge sighs, her own attention returning to the screen, and Lance exhales a relieved breath.

The atmosphere feels tense, something Lance could be imagining, and he wants to say something. Something that will, maybe, take his mind off this new awareness of Pidge, and him, and Pidge and him.

For something to do, Lance reaches into the bucket - now on Pidge’s lap - and pulls out a handful of popcorn.

The movie manages to engage his attention for some time, and it feels more normal when he starts making his perfectly witty observations, elbowing Pidge’s arm and smirking when he hears her soft snorts and sees her rolling her eyes. But then she rests her head on his shoulder, and he’s back to holding his breath.

He wishes they hadn’t finished all the popcorn so quickly.

Lance taps Pidge’s elbow and softly asks, “Do you want more popcorn?”

Pidge shakes her head, her hair tickling his chin.

“Oh, well, I want more popcorn,” Lance says, grabbing the bucket from where it rests on the floor and standing up, displacing Pidge from his shoulder.

She grumbles and slouches in her seat, pulling her feet onto it and wrapping her arms around her legs. “You’ll miss some of the movie,” she points out.

Lance shrugs, unbothered; he hasn’t been paying much attention to the movie anyway. “I’m sure you’ll fill me in later,” he says.

Pidge shoots him a smile in silent promise, and Lance walks along the aisle of seats and down the stairs. He pauses just outside the theater, eyes adjusting to the brighter lights, leans against the wall beside the door, and reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone.

Out of desperation - and because this is just what he does - he looks up programming pickup lines. He scowls at the screen though when they all prove to be stupid, shallow, cringey, and stuffs his phone away. Something like that wouldn’t do him any good anyway, not with Pidge.

Lance gets the refill and returns to the theater, and Pidge is the first to take a handful from the bucket.

“I thought you said you didn’t want more,” he says, raising an eyebrow at her.

Pidge blushes, and it’s obvious even in the dimness of the theater. “I changed my mind,” she says.

Lance sits, and the rest of the movie passes without incident.

He’s still disappointed when Pidge doesn’t rest her head on his shoulder again.

Afterwards, when they’re just walking around the mall chatting, she summarizes the movie as if he wasn’t there watching it with her, and for the moment he’s happy just listening to her talk about something she enjoys, at least until she asks, “So what did you think about that plot twist?”

Lance’s heart drops into his chest. “Uh…” What plot twist? “It was…good?”

“Really?” Pidge says, frowning. “Because I saw it coming from the beginning.”

Lance forces a laugh and nudges her side. “That’s because you’re smarter than me, Pidge.”

Pidge looks skeptical but doesn’t call him out on his deflection.

He lets her buy him ice cream, but only because she glares at him with the heat of ten suns while she passes her debit card over to the cashier. They sit quietly on a bench while they eat, and though there’s only a few inches of space between them, it feels like a void after how close they sat in the theater.

Lance finishes his ice cream first, brushing his hands free of crumbs from the cone as Pidge polishes off hers. She bites into it, humming happily, and he pretends like the butterflies in his stomach don’t exist alongside an ache in his chest.

Hair escapes her ponytail in wisps of brown, her nose reddened from an old sunburn. A spot of chocolate sticks to her chin just under her mouth, and her sweater is wrinkled.

The second epiphany in a single day strikes Lance, and he knows why his heart now fixates on Pidge.

She’s his best friend, and he can listen to her talk about her interests for hours. She can drag him into a conversation even if he doesn’t know much about the topic. She laughs at his jokes, and he laughs at hers even if she has to explain it to him. When they argue, they’re always quick to mend fences. And they’ve known each other for years, so he knows he won’t grow bored of her company.

Their entire relationship realigns itself in his head, and Lance decides the chase is overrated anyway.

“Pidge,” he says, quiet, and when she turns her head to look at him, he continues, “I…want to kiss you.”

Her eyes widen, cheeks reddening with a blush, and at first he fears that his impulsive declaration will chase her away, until she says, “Okay.”

Lance’s brain grinds to a halt. “What?” He stares at her incredulously.

“I said, okay.” She rolls her eyes and scoots closer to him. “Or would you rather I kiss you?”

“N-no,” he says. “I can do it.”

“Then do–”

Lance presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, her breath stuttering out of her in surprise. When she doesn’t pull away, he reaches up to cup her face - skin soft under his fingertips - and turn it towards him.

Pidge sighs against his lips, the sound sending a thrill through his blood, but before he can deepen the kiss, she rests her hand against his chest and gently pushes him away.

“Why?” she asks, meeting his eyes.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he blurts out. It has her raising an eyebrow at him, a disappointed twist to her mouth, but since it’s not exactly what he means to say, he backtracks, “And I like you a lot. Do you–”

She shuts him up with another kiss, and he feels her smile. “Yes,” she says.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna ask,” Lance points out, indignant. “I could’ve asked you if you wanted food, or if you thought it was going to rain, or–”

“We just ate two buckets of popcorn and ice cream,” Pidge says, laughing, “and it’s a clear day.” She rests her hands on his shoulders and makes sure his gaze is locked on hers. “So unless the question was 'do you want to go out with me’, the answer is 'no’.”

Lance laughs, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. “Yeah, I can see why you would think that.”

Pidge’s own arms snake around his back, but then she picks something from his hood and pulls away from him. “You missed one,” she says, frowning at a kernel of popcorn between her fingers. She flicks it, and it strikes his forehead and bounces to the ground.

Lance hides his face and groans.

—

“You weren’t faking, right?” Lance asks Hunk yet again on Monday.

Hunk rolls his eyes and coughs. “I’m still a little sick, Lance.”

“I know, I know.” He raises his hands defensively. “Just making sure since you seemed to figure out that I like Pidge before I did.”

“It’s about time though,” Hunk comments.

Lance smiles, and it only widens when he catches sight of Pidge approaching them, face glum. “That bad, huh?” he asks.

Pidge grabs him by the collar and tugs him down so that she can look him in the eye. “Why the hell did I let you convince me that I had this?”

“Because you decided you’d rather spend time with me than study?” says Lance, raising an eyebrow at her…and even feeling a little guilty.

She lets go of him and rubs her face. “I’m going to get a B and it’s all your fault.”

“What can I say?” Lance says, taking her hand. “I’m irresistible.”

—

Almost a week later, Pidge wakes Lance up to push her computer onto his lap. “I got an A,” she says, crossing her arms.

“I told you you’d be fine,” he says. He turns his head to look at his alarm clock, frowning when he sees how late - or how early - it is. “What the hell, Pidge?” he demands, glaring at her. “It’s three in the morning!”

Pidge smirks and takes her computer back, closing it and setting it on the floor beside the bed. She lies down and wraps her arms and legs around him and says, “Lance, it’s Saturday. And now that you’re up…”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, “but just know it’s your fault that I’m missing out on my beauty sleep.”

“Please,” Pidge scoffs, “you don’t need it.”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to smirk, but before he can make another comment, Pidge kisses him.

He’s wide awake for a while after that.

(34) When you’re around I don’t know how to hide my feelings. I count in binary, in my head. zero one one zero one one and you count clouds. (while you count clouds)

The clouds on this unnamed planet are wispy and gossamer and colored like cotton candy, in pastel pinks and blues, contrasting against an eerie white sky. They ride the wind like birds, winding and unwinding into impossible shapes, and Pidge wonders if she’s stepped foot onto a fantasy world.

Sometimes, her life feels more like fantasy than science fiction, space travel and giant robots aside.

“Pretty,” Lance observes from beside her, eyes fixed on the sky. He points at a pink one that spirals into a point. “That one looks like a unicorn.”

In her head, Pidge counts, pretends that her heart isn’t warmed by the sight of Lance smiling, actually looks like he’s having fun for the first time since Naxzela, pretends that they’re not all worried about Keith or Lotor or any of the other things that keep piling on, weighing them down like the planet-sized bomb did.

She and Lance are out alone while the Castle undergoes repairs. She offered to help, but Coran waved her away with a twinkle in his eyes, and even Matt, busy with the rebels, didn’t have a minute to spare for her.

Pidge crosses her arms and kicks a pebble, which skitters away, scattering light across its crystalline surface. Lance wanders with her, but his eyes still focus upwards, and Pidge has to grab his arm when he stumbles over a piece of space debris.

“Thanks,” he says, smiling sheepishly at her.

Pidge blinks, shakes her head, and keeps counting.

When she reaches 011011, they return to the Castle at the predetermined departure time and walk to the bridge. Allura, in conference with Shiro and Coran, turns around to greet them with a smile. “How was your walk?” she wonders.

Lance grins at her. “It’s pretty outside,” he says. “The clouds make the weirdest shapes. I saw one that looks like a unicorn.”

“What’s a unicorn?” Coran asks, twirling his mustache.

“A horse with a horn.” Lance takes off his helmet, setting it on his station’s seat, and mimes having a horn protruding from his forehead with his arm.

Pidge hides a smile behind her hand while both Allura and Coran blink in confusion.

“And what’s a…horse?” Coran says.

“And is it anything like a Kaltenecker?” Allura asks.

(Pidge wonders if there’s a story behind the way both she and Coran blanch at that.)

Lance rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “Kind of, actually,” he says. Then he brightens and suggests, “Hey, I can show you! It was still out there when we came in.”

“Oh, uh, all right,” says Allura, offering her own tentative smile. She grabs her helmet and follows Lance out of the bridge.

Pidge watches them go, then tears her gaze away from the door, looking around and around and around for something to do. She approaches Coran and asks, “Are the repairs done?”

“Hmm, yes,” Coran says with a sideways glance at her. “We’ll be leaving within the varga.”

Pidge nods in acknowledgement and slumps into her seat, suddenly exhausted. She messes with the display at her terminal, scanning for nearby hostile systems to avoid, wondering if allying themselves with Lotor will make them even more of a target for Zarkon than before…

“…and you think it looks like a what now?” Lance’s voice drifts into the bridge at his and Allura’s return.

“Like a pink willowy honfluz,” Allura says.

They walk through the door together, helmets under their arms as Allura mimes whatever a 'willowy honfluz’ is.

Lance still looks confused, but he shrugs, unconcerned. “But you have to agree that a cloud shaped like a unicorn is pretty cool, right?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Allura says, “though I’m still not quite sure what a unicorn is.”

“A horse,” Lance says, sounding exasperated.

Pidge muffles a snort with her arm, and she jumps when a hand rests on her shoulder.

“You okay, Pidge?” Lance asks her, leaning against the back of her seat and glancing at her over his shoulder.

“Great,” Pidge says. She tries to resume counting, but she’s lost track of the last number she stopped at. “Never better.”

“Really?” Lance raises a skeptical eyebrow, even kneels beside her so he can better look her in the eye. “You seem…distracted.”

“Do I?” she wonders, meeting his eyes. Good, she thinks.

“Yeah…” He narrows his eyes at her. “You know, it’s okay if you’re not doing so well, right? We had a tough time, and–”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, and when he flinches back, scowling, she adds shamefully, “I’m just worried about my dad.”

“You’ll find him, Pidge,” Lance reassures her, his hand returning to her shoulder. “You found your brother, so you can find your dad too.”

Pidge stares at him, mouth dry. His proximity is both dizzying and comfortable at the same time, and–

She starts her counting from zero again.

#plance #pidgance #lidge #i hope you like them!!#i know 32 screams 'random hookup' but i couldn't because i had a different idea #voltron #reem writes fic #interallyscreamingeternally #qna

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lostinthemazecalledmyhead · 6 years

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Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight part nine Part ten

Part nine Lost in anger

Previously I wonder what my role is in all this. Why would they need me to find the fountain of youth? Is it because I wasn’t born here? Wouldn’t Peter need the map and compass to find the island? Being alone this long without anything to do was driving me insane.

After an insanely long night someone finally came down. “Good morning sunshine.” A boy greeted me. “You’re a lost boy?” I asked him. “Just follow me.” He opened the cell door and I followed him up the stairs. “Ah! There she is!” Peter cried happily. “It’s time for a scavenger hunt.” Not so far away I could see an island. This was it. Before we could feel the sand beneath our feet we had to get in these tiny rowboats. “How were you able to find the island without the map nor compass?” That question had been on my mind a while now. Peter pan laughed. “I don’t need a map and this right here.” He showed me the golden compass covered in blood. “Will just show us the way.” Shocked I stared at the compass. How was Hook going to find me without the compass? Maybe not all hope was lost. “Then why do you need me?” “I need your blood.” Peter said. Okay, so maybe all hope was lost after all. “My blood?” “To make the compass work you need blood of a pure heart.” I started to laugh. “That’s just ridiculous and such a cliché. There are billions of people and even millions of people with a good heart.” Peter scoffed. “A good heart is not the same thing as a pure heart. Someone with a good heart wants to do the right thing, but it’s not in their nature, but someone with a pure heart is good and inspires people to be the same way.” “You are very poetic, you know that?” This whole ‘oh, the cleverness of me’ thing is starting to irritate me. I’d rather die right now than spend my last days alone with all his talk. We set foot ashore, but before we did Peter had one of his boys tie my hands together. Peter got out a knife and cut the palm of my left hand. I didn’t show my pain. Then he put the compass in my hand that, again, began spinning like crazy. “Look at this boys.” Peter spoke to the lost boys that came with. “Soon we will be able to save Neverland.” The climate on this island is completely different from the mainland. Here it’s hot and sticky. I think I’d rather have it just warm. That’ll do. Our journey, that I found rather exhausting, took us to the highest point on the island. It was the only way to pass through to the deepest part of the island. Peter decided that we had time to take a break. I surely didn’t mind since we had been walking through a tight jungle for more than four hours. I felt gross and probably also smelled that way. The view was beautiful, but it didn’t mean much. In another situation I sure could have appreciated it, but now… Wait a minute. Something didn’t add up. It was like a dot on a picture. And you didn’t know whether it was something in the distance or just an error, or maybe even your mind playing a trick on you. It could have been a ship. The Jolly roger even. Who could tell for sure. The only thing I knew for sure at that moment was that I hadn’t lost all hope. There had been some hope left, but just seeing that dot made the spark lit a fire inside of me. I felt it was Hook and not just Hook who was coming for me. There was somebody else, but I couldn’t place it who it might have been. And I don’t know how I knew what I knew, I just did. It was a feeling I had in my stomach. And if I learned anything at all, it’s that those stomach feelings are the most reliable and powerful predictive powers a human can have. Nothing supernatural though, however there is not a real explanation for it. I needed a plan. This island is huge and without a little help the chances are pretty slim Hook is going to find me. And I think I got just the perfect idea. Well not perfect, but it was good enough. We continued to walk until our feet fell off. It was nightfall so we prepared for the night. I waited until all the boys were vast asleep. Without much effort I untied myself. That’s when I got up and walked back the path we came from. I remembered we past a good spot for my plan and it was just out of hearing range. It took me over 3 hours to set everything up. The worst part about my plan was that I had to stay awake the whole night while I was completely exhausted. “This better work.” I mumbled to myself. The next morning, just before dawn, I set everything into motion before I snuck back and tried to close my eyes for a while before we continued walking again. It felt like I just drifted off when a voice woke me up. “We didn’t come here to sleep. Get up.” Peter pushed me with his foot. “And I wished yesterday was just a nightmare, but oh there is your face again.” I snapped at Peter. I am such a horrible person when I’m in a lack of sleep. Again we continued our journey. Peter kept making snide remarks which made my mood only worse. “What are you even doing with pirates?” Peter asked not out of genuine interest, more out of disgrace. “Well it’s a funny story.” I began. “It starts with: It’s none of your fucking business.” I gave Peter a cold glance which seemed to please him even more. Oh god how I hated the way evil works. Being mean to them actually pleases them. Maybe I should just kill him. I thought. That isn’t actually such a bad idea… it is way too tempting. When is that son of a bitch going to shut up? That thought gave me an idea. He is a son, rather was a son because his mother would probably be long gone. The point is that he has this thing about families, maybe I could just poke around. Irritate him for a change. Normally I’m not about revenge, but today I am. I barely slept and I’m literally dying so I think I deserve to have some fun with him. “Did I tell you the story about where I came from?” I asked Peter innocently. Peter turned around looking at me in confusion and distrust. “Getting talkative now?” “You know.” I wiped some sweat off of my forehead. Though it was still morning the air was already damp. “The land I came from. Everyone knows who Peter Pan is. Parents tell their kids about you before they put out the nightlight.” “Where are you going with this?” Peter asked. “I must admit that I was so intrigued by your story and wished that some night you would come at my window and take my away like you did with Wendy.” I continued. “I thought I saw some lost girl in you.” Peter had a smirk all over his face again. “But deep down I knew that my wish for adventure couldn’t compete with the love I felt for my parents. I knew I could never leave them. And I also know that some people don’t have that choice. Some people don’t even know their parents.” “Those are the lucky ones.” Peter said bitter. “Those are the uncomplete ones.” I corrected him. Peter gave me an irritated look. “People who have never known their parents will always have this slumbering feeling that they are not complete. It doesn’t matter how much hate or ignorance there is within someone they will always, deep down, want to know their parents.” Peter didn’t say anything, so I just continued talking. “I find it really sad. Children who had to grow up not being tucked in at night, being told stories before the night light went out. Not being loved. I imagine they are wondering why every night before they fall asleep. Hoping that their parents will come back for them, but they never will. They never do.” “You know?” Peter mentioned. “I liked you better when you were silent.” “If you want we can talk about something else other than parents. What about girls? You must have had an eye on someone, other than Wendy of course.” I talked to him as if we were best buddies sharing our secrets. “I think it’s enough talking for now.” Peter said. “Come on, Peter. You can tell me. It’s not like I’m gonna tell. Where did you meet her? What was she like?” “We’re done.” “So there is a girl!” I cried. “Is she much like Wendy? Did I mention I knew Wendy? I’ve met her a few times a long time ago, she was so nice and talked on and on about a boy named Peter and now I know it was you.” Peter looked at me definitely interested. I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. Did he really think I knew Wendy? The time difference would have been way to great. “Make her shut up.” Peter ordered one of his boys. The boy tied a piece of fabric around my mouth. It was so tight that the fabric went into my mouth. Fair enough. I thought pleased. It was worth it.

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only-1-a · 7 years

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[Fic] Clean Slate

Alec couldn’t fix everything, but he could clean up after his messes. Cleaning was something he could have a direct impact on.

This is dedicated to @s-erendipitiness for always accepting my angsty headcanons, and for being my wine buddy when the fandom gets dramatic! Enjoy 2000 words of introspective angst set after episode 2x17.

It was early morning by the time Alec arrived at Magnus’ door. He had wanted to come earlier, but he had been aware enough to know nothing good would come of trying to talk to Magnus while they were both still angry. So here he was, a few hours later on Magnus’ doorstep, no more rested, but less likely to snap.

He could only hope Magnus was willing to listen. Alec wanted to apologize, and hopefully explain himself better, but even he knew this was a two way street.

Alec knocked, and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Magnus had told him once how annoying he found it when people simply barged into his home, but when Magnus didn't answer to a second or third knock, Alec couldn't help but try the door knob. Of course it swung open, because Magnus didn't believe in mundane locks.

“Magnus?” Alec called out, hoping Magnus wasn't asleep, and that he hadn't just woken his already grumpy boyfriend with all his noise. He stepped into the loft quietly, until something crunched under his boot. Alec looked down, and saw the mess of glass and alcohol at his feet. “Magnus!” Alec shouted, much more urgently this time.

He all but ran to the bedroom, only to find the bed untouched since he'd last made it. Alec made his way quickly through the rest of the loft without any luck. Everything besides the liquor table was fine. Alec returned to the spilled bottles in the living room and began to pace.

“Don't panic. Think this through. If Magnus had been attacked, more than the drinks cart would have been destroyed. If he'd been kidnapped, there would be more signs of a struggle.” Alec's pacing, and breathing both slowed down as he thought things through logically. “Calm down. Magnus throws magic around when he's pissed…he's probably…venting at someone about his horrible boyfriend.” Alec stopped finally, and stared down at the broken glass.

He had no idea how long his eyes were fixed on the broken pieces, but almost without thinking Alec bent down to pick them up.

Carefully, carefully, oh so very carefully, he picked up the broken pieces. He didn't need to add blood to this mess. He put all the bigger pieces into a neat little pile. The smaller pieces were harder because Magnus would normally do any cleaning with his magic, and therefore didn't own a dust pan. Alec was sure Magnus could clean this just as easily, even as he swept the smaller pieces up with a cloth.

But even if Magnus could do it, there was no reason Alec shouldn't. It was most likely his fault in a way anyhow, and he was sure Magnus would appreciate the gesture…or at least maybe it would smooth things over slightly when he and Magnus would get to talk.

All while he thought this, he continued cleaning. Cleaning this mess was much easier than dealing with his own personal mess. This was something he could control. This was something simple with a direct outcome he could affect.

‘It's not that I wanted to lie to you,’ Alec thought over exactly what he wanted to say as he picked up all the glass pieces, and put them in the garbage.

‘I know how much you've already been through, and I didn't want you to worry about the Clave’s lies on top of that.’

He grabbed a towel, and used it to clean up the liquid still on the ground.

‘I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how without making you choose between me and everyone else.’

He took out another towel and dampened it to try and clean up the sticky, dried liquor on the floor.

‘I didn't know how to choose between you and everyone else either.’

Once that was mopped up, Alec looked to the table itself. If Magnus wasn't a Warlock, Alec would have written it off completely, between the scorch marks and the broken pieces. He wasn't about to make calls for Magnus’ furniture though, so for now, he just set it upright.

‘I never wanted to keep such a big secret from you.’

With the main mess cleaned up, Alec stood up, and looked for something else to clean until Magnus got home.

‘You make me honest in a way I never could be before. I never want to live a lie like that again.’

He picked up the dishes and cups lying around. Alec put them in the sink, and set to washing them. The warm, running water and soap were calming, even as his thoughts ran a mile a minute.

‘I don't know if I could have told you. That's the truth.’

Once everything was washed, dried and put away, Alec noticed some of Magnus’ books and spell ingredients scattered about. He didn't dare touch the ingredients, but he felt safe putting the books not on Magnus’ workbench back onto the shelf.

‘I don't know if I would have, but I know I should have trusted you more. I wanted to make the world safer for you, and instead I made it worse…’

Alec looked around the loft. Everything was perfectly clean, and there was still no sign of Magnus. With a sigh, Alec knew he was likely to pass out from exhaustion soon, and as tempting as Magnus’ bed was from here, he was fairly certain Magnus wouldn't appreciate Alec sleeping in his bed while they were fighting. So he gathered himself up, and made himself leave, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Just as he was heading down into the subway station, he shot off a quick text. ‘I love you. Be safe.’

---

Hours later, Magnus was finally returning home from the Seelie Court, ready to just crash in his bed, and pretend it didn’t feel too big or empty. Luke had offered to stay with him - probably to make sure he didn’t do anything rash like destroy his entire loft - but Magnus was too tired for that. Too exhausted. He was physically exhausted, still working on very little sleep in the last 48 hours, and he was emotionally exhausted. After everything with Alec, and having dealt with the Seelie Queen and her games and riddles twice, he just wanted to sleep forever, and wake up only when the world had fixed itself.

So he had sent Luke home to The Jade Wolf, and portalled himself promptly to his bed.

When he opened his eyes again, it was unexpectedly dark. Magnus sat up and blinked a few times, only to curse and flop back down, running his hands over his face. It wasn’t like he had missed any appointments or obligations, but it was still frustrating having slept the entire day away. It was worse when he had work to do to ensure the safety of the Downworld, since as always the Shadowhunters couldn’t be trusted to do it. He allowed himself a moment to just groan into his hands, and bitch out whatever higher power might be listening.

After a few deep steadying breaths, Magnus sat up, and with a wave of his hand, all the lights in his loft went on. It took a heroic effort, but he was able to pull himself out of bed, and put one foot in front of the other and move on. He took a quick glance at his phone to check if he had missed anything. He quickly put it away again when he saw the first notification was from Alec.

He wasn't ready to deal with that disaster just yet. Not before he'd had something to drink at least. Magnus groaned again at the thought, the memories from the previous night hitting him. Between everything that had happened with the Soul Sword, Valentine, The Clave, the Seelie Queen, and Alexander, his destroyed drinks cart had barely seemed like a priority. Now as he found his breathing coming in shallow bursts, it felt like the worst thing in his whole, long life.

Maybe he could just go back to sleep for a century and wake up when everything was done and everyone he knew was gone.

Magnus shut his eyes and shook his head of that thought. No. He just had to keep going like he always had. He had faced worse and always come out alive. Just because it felt like all the world's problems were piling on him at once was no reason to break now.

He would bear it all alone if he had to.

Magnus forced himself to breathe calmly. In for seven. Hold. Out for seven. Again and again, pacing it with his steps through his home. He would go down to the Hunter's Moon, he would pretend not to see memories of could-have-beens in that place, and he would drink enough to forget for the night. He would come home and clean up his mess later, when it hurt less to think of why he had destroyed his drink cart in the first place.

Magnus ran a hand through his hair with magic to make it look perfect. With barely a thought he had his makeup looking professionally applied rather than slept in. He snapped his fingers and he had a whole new outfit that demanded to be looked at. Paired with a familiar fake smile, and he had the perfect disguise so that no one would look at him too closely to see that anything was wrong.

It was the perfect plan, and he was sure it would have succeeded if he had made it to the door. Instead he found himself standing frozen in his living room. There, exactly where it belonged, and about two feet from where he had left it was his drinks cart. It was still damaged beyond mundane repair, but it was clean and upright. The drinks were gone, but so were the broken bottles and shattered pieces of glass. Rather than puddles of smelling alcohol or a sticky mess on the ground, the floor was absolutely clean.

For a moment Magnus was frightened by the implications that someone had come into his home while he was sleeping, but that didn't make sense. First, for the fact it would have set his wards off. Second, because who honestly would break into a home just to clean? He raised his hands warily, just to be prepared in case there was some kind of attack waiting for him, but his brain was busy scanning the scene for the most likely culprit.

His wards had let whoever it was in, without being broken or alerting him someone was in his home. Very few people had that privilege.

Namely Catarina, Raphael, and Alexander.

Then here was the matter of the mess from his tantrum being cleaned…

“I think you've exerted yourself enough for one day.”

Catarina loved him, but…she wouldn't clean for him…

“Tell me how to fix this.”

Magnus collapsed back into the couch, suddenly exhausted again.

Soft eyes, imploring him. Quiet voice begging him.

Magnus covered his eyes with one hand, and tried to shut the world out. It was obvious. Of course it was Alec. Only Alexander would come into his home, even during a fight to clean up his messes.

“Tell me how to fix this.”

Reluctantly, Magnus pulled his phone out and made himself look at Alec's text.

“I love you. Be safe” Magnus sneered as he read it aloud. It was easier to be angry with Alec. It was less painful if he could imagine the words as anything less than sincere.

It was easier to pretend.

7:48 AM

Hours before he'd come home, let alone woken up. Alec had been here to clean up, and Angel knew what else.

Magnus threw the phone across the room, and curled himself up as small as he could. He pressed his forehead into his knees. Stupid Nephilim, with their stupid cleaning habits. They didn't even have the decency to be uncaring until Magnus was roaring drunk.

“Why didn't you tell me the truth Alexander?” he bit out, holding onto his anger with what little strength he had left. “Why didn't you trust me?”

“Are you okay?”

“I love you.”

“There is nothing ugly about you.”

“Tell me how to fix this.”

It was easier to pretend, because the truth hurt more.

#malec #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #alexander lightwood #shadowhunters fanfiction #mirella's fic #people should tell me what they think about this #horned toads

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misssophiachase · 7 years

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Fools Rush In

So, in honour of our little Jodice reunion this week and free (and might I add unlimited) wi-fi on my holiday, I'm back with another Originals Season 5 drabble. Plus, I was so overwhelmed by all the birthday love (I am so bad with dates, so it's an absolute honour you all remembered) so thank you lovelies.

Caroline and Klaus head to Las Vegas together to try to stop Hope and Roman from eloping.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?" - EP

Somewhere between MF Virginia and LV Nevada

"Surely there must be something to listen to on the radio," Caroline complained, switching the dial back and forth erratically in the darkened car.

"Surely you could stop doing that," Klaus shot back, his eyes never leaving the road. "All of that white noise is doing my head in, Caroline."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm in need of some entertainment given my driver has been a brooding grouch the entire trip from Mystic Falls," she growled back, by way of response. "The least you could do is have some music on hand given how bad the radio reception is at the moment."

"You mean records? Funnily enough I don't have any here."

"No, this isn't the dark ages but a cassette tape or CD would even suffice at the moment," she replied in frustration. "Surely the Original Hybrid needs some music to get in the mood when he's about to go massacre a whole bunch of people. Let me guess, Metallica?" Klaus tilted his head slightly, finally tearing his gaze from the road to raise his eyebrows in her direction.

"So, you're actually condoning a massacre now? When I threatened to tear out his liver then slaughter him limb from limb you'd been so predictably bossy and judgemental, love. Oh and I'm partial to AC/DC for future reference, Highway to Hell is my personal favourite. Pity I don't have any with me at the moment given my blood thirsty mood."

"I'm not condoning any violence, in fact that's why I'm on this road trip to stop you from doing anything you'll regret," Caroline hissed. "I was only citing an example but at least it made you finally string a complete sentence together."

When Hope and Roman hadn't shown up for class yesterday, a frantic search of their rooms had found all their clothes missing. After Bonnie's locator spell had placed them on the highway to Nevada, their roommates had eventually spilled the shocking news they were eloping. Caroline knew Roman wasn't the smartest vampire but he certainly had some deranged death wish if he was willing to mess with the Original Hybrid's only daughter.

Klaus had arrived at the school in a frantic, testosterone fuelled rant. Caroline lost count of all the death threats he made while she attempted to calmly explain what had happened. He'd blamed Alaric and her initially for not paying enough attention and then his accusations spewed further afield. Kol apparently for corrupting his daughter, Rebekah for letting her wear too much make-up and Elijah for not being strict enough. The first two Caroline thought were plausible, the last not so much knowing the uptight, eldest Mikaelson sibling.

She'd managed to eventually calm him (although it took a good hour) and they'd bundled into his car headed for Las Vegas at practically double the speed limit. When you were Klaus Mikaelson, Caroline figured it didn't really matter if you broke the law.

"She's my little girl," Klaus bit out finally into the prolonged silence, Caroline a little surprised by his frank admission, even if it was said barely louder than a whisper.

"We'll get there in time, don't worry," she soothed, her hand finding his arm.

It had been a long time since they'd been in such close proximity and Caroline had to admit it was messing with her usually strong resolve. She had to remember that Klaus Mikaelson was only the father of one of her students, nothing more. He sent a small smile in her direction before turning back to the road. The resulting flutter she felt in her stomach was enough to tell her he was so much more. For the first time on the trip, Caroline didn't complain about the music deciding it was better to keep her thoughts to herself given any untoward consequences.

The Cosmopolitan Hotel, LV Nevada

"What the hell is this place?" Klaus snarled, looking around the grand hotel, accessorised with ceiling-to-floor, pink chandeliers and life size shoes scattered around the crowded lobby.

"It's called a hotel," Caroline muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. After such a long drive she was feeling decidedly impatient and desperate for a long, hot shower to wash some of her more questionable thoughts away.

"Really? I had no idea," he drawled. "Why can't we stay at the Palms? Now that is a hotel."

"If you're Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack and the year is 1950," she joked.

"Don't forget those Playboy Bunnies too," he smirked. Caroline felt something stab her sharply in the gut, it could have possibly been a little misguided jealously but she wasn't about to tell the smug idiot that.

"This is where your child is staying apparently," she growled. "Kids these days crave shiny and modern things, more than what your billion year-old ass likes," the concierge looked at them curiously, prompting Caroline to explain herself further. "He's an old soul."

"So, here is your key," he explained, choosing to ignore their petty argument. "Room 507, make your way to the elevator and turn..."

"Wait! Hold up," Caroline interrupted, holding up her hand for extra effect. "I asked for two rooms. You know separate rooms. Some place that doesn't involve me having to share any space with this guy. You know..."

"I think he gets the picture, sweetheart," Klaus quipped.

"Unfortunately, it's the last room available tonight," he offered, albeit feebly.

"What is this? Christmas night at the bloody inn? I'd even take a stable tonight instead of this weird arrangement." Before Caroline could compel his incompetent ass, Klaus had moved her away from the front desk and was making his way towards the elevators purposefully with her in one hand and the other their bags.

"I don't appreciate being man handled," she growled, coming to a complete standstill.

"Is it just me or do you two always pick up right where you left off?" A cheeky voice enquired, making them both turn towards the casino roulette table. "Red 27." They watched transfixed as the ball made its way around the spinning wheel even though they knew the outcome given his supernatural powers.

"Red 27," the Croupier called out making the crowd gathered at the table cheer with excitement. Caroline looked at the huge pile of chips at Kol's seat thinking a call to casino security really was in order. Even just to teach him about the perils of cheating, call it the teacher in her.

"Looks like I'm a millionaire, again," he grinned knowingly, taking a long sip from his whiskey.

"When I asked you to advance this particular mission, it wasn't to cheat in the casino."

"Way to ruin my winner's streak, Niklaus," he whistled, compelling the unwitting croupier before walking over to join them. "I'll have you know that I have been doing reconnaissance for you as directed bossy."

"And?"

"And our beloved Hope is set to tie the knot at the Elvis Chapel tonight, 9pm." Caroline could make out his hands balled into fists, the mere mention of her upcoming and supposedly secret nuptials causing those angry thoughts to resurface.

"What room is she in, Kol," he managed to bite out, through the obvious rage given the increasing redness in his face.

"That I don't know, but it's probably best to surprise them at the chapel than risk her running away from the hotel beforehand and marrying the unwitting idiot elsewhere." Caroline had to admit that Kol was right. Which was unusual given his well-known immaturity.

"Although I hate to admit it, Kol does have a point," Caroline offered, finding her hand on his again comfortingly. She decided to blame her touchy-feely tendencies on the fact that they were currently in crisis mode. He hadn't spoken much afterwards (no doubt given his tendencies never to admit anyone else was right), they rode the lift and placed their stuff in the room. Klaus had paced back and forth in front of the impressive window like a caged animal. Caroline could hardly blame him given his protective nature but she was pretty sure he was going to wear out the carpet if he continued.

"You need to relax."

"Relax?"

"I realise it's a foreign concept but it is something most people do at some point in their lives, even just to ease some of that tension in your shoulders."

"I don't have tension," he baulked. "But say I did, what would you do to get rid of it?"

"Good try, buddy," she joked. When he's sent her that sly smirk and a stray left cheek dimple, Caroline had been briefly tempted to rub his shoulders but knew that wasn't going to end well or appropriately given her teacher status. "I'm going to relieve some of my own tension and have a bath."

"Are you sure you don't need anyone to help scrub those hard to reach places, love?" He called out right before she slammed the door shut, a familiar tingle reverberating through her body. Damn him for returning and causing all those feelings to bubble to the surface. She could hear his laughter through the door and was relieved that he was at least beginning to calm down, even just a little.

The bath was glorious, the hot water and multiple bubbles seeping into her tired joints and relaxing her entire body. She'd briefly wondered what he was occupying himself with on the other side of the door but decided it was best to not think about it given the burgeoning arousal she felt when it came to the Original Hybrid in such close proximity. Wrapping a white towel tightly across her body, Caroline opened the door quietly. She hadn't heard anything so figured he'd no doubt gone to bother Kol or drink a much-needed shot of whiskey to calm his fatherly nerves.

"Lucky we're not paying for water," he smirked, taking in her scantily clothed appearance. He was lying on the couch, the whiskey she'd imagined propped in his hand.

"I didn't take a shower, genius," she growled sarcastically, holding her hands over her chest defensively. "I kind of figured you might have decided to get a life and explore the casino."

"I couldn't be responsible for my actions in public," he admitted, taking another swig of his drink. "I figured you were my safest bet, sweetheart." Caroline wasn't quite sure what to do with that comment, especially half dressed in his presence.

"Nice to see you've learnt some restraint finally, Mikaelson."

"Only with you," he murmured, his eyes trained on her again, Caroline struggling to control every urge she'd suppressed when it came to Klaus Mikaelson. Last time she checked he was the big, bad wolf and she was just a vampire trying to teach kids how to survive in the the big, bad supernatural world.

"Get out!"

"Last time I checked this was our room," he insisted, placing his hands on his head and leaning backwards lazily.

"By your design," she scoffed, deciding that his intense stare was too much to take, especially this scantily attired. "I'm going to go change before the upcoming nuptials."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean the interrupted nuptials," she corrected herself.

"So..."

"So, stay out of the bedroom in the meantime, Mikaelson," she yelled before slamming the door shut. Caroline figured some extra clothing was the least she needed to combat his encroaching effect on her willpower.

xxxxxx

"Talk about tacky," Kol drawled, taking in their surroundings.

The three of them had walked up the strip towards the famed Elvis Chapel and found themselves at their chosen destination which seemed to be pretty busy this time of night. Obviously this was the beginning of peak hour for wedding ceremonies. Klaus had been unable to take his eyes off her fitted, black dress ensemble and Caroline figured she should have been happy that his attention was distracted from his daughter but his longing stares weren't doing anything to calm the desire.

It was at this point she was kicking herself for getting involved in this situation and thinking Alaric was definitely the person for the job. Far less messy emotions involved on that front.

"We don't do threesomes," the officiant barked before they'd even spoken.

"These two could only be so lucky," Caroline scoffed, looking between the brothers. True, her gaze kind of faltered when it came to the brooding blonde but Kol she had no qualms in dissing. Especially with that annoying smirk plastered on his boyish face. "We're actually guests for the upcoming wedding."

"Well, wedding is such a final term," Klaus coughed.

"Name?"

"Mikaelson and..." Kol began slowly, obviously unaware of her betrothed's surname. Not highly unusual given the haste of their nuptials and his general lack of interest in the whole situation.

"Windsor," a voice interrupted. They all turned to face the young blonde who was staring at them, hands on hips.

"What? Like the Royal family?" Klaus hissed, attempting to come to terms with the fact his daughter was standing there before them in all her glory.

"Trust me, there's no Royal blood present," Caroline muttered. "You are in big trouble, young lady!"

"Who needs a father figure when I have Miss Forbes?" She drawled, her eyes rolling as she said it.

"That's no way to speak to her, Hope," Klaus growled. "You are in big trouble. Trouble that I'm not sure you'll never find your way out of this century, if not this lifetime or the next. Where is the bloody idiot I want to kill anyway?"

"Dad.."

"Don't you Dad me..."

"What he means to say is..."

"I understand a death threat when I hear it," Hope reiterated, looking at her Uncle Kol pointedly. "Klaus Mikaelson is my father after all. It's kind of par for the course."

"And yet you seem so relaxed while I plot your punishment for the next few decades," he growled. Caroline felt bad for her student but at the same time nothing seemed to add up in this scenario. "And his slow and painful death."

"We're not getting married," she insisted. Caroline, Kol and Klaus all looked up in confusion at that particular remark.

"So, what exactly are we doing here, darling?" Kol asked curiously, looking around the room. "Not that I don't like an opportunity to come to Vegas and win some more money though."

"I thought it was time you stopped being so damn stubborn and decide to get married and make it official," she offered. "There's only so much sexual tension I can stand and from what I've been told by my aunts, uncles and various friends its being going on forever."

Caroline was shellshocked, not expecting their mission in Vegas to result in this particular ending. As torn as she was about Klaus, Caroline had no intention of marrying him and by Elvis of all people. She had a wedding planned out since she was five and this rushed Vegas plan didn't suit that dream. She looked towards Klaus, expecting him to be upset but he was decidedly annoying and calm. No doubt he was revelling in the fact his only daughter wasn't rushing to the altar like he'd suspected.

"So, you're not getting married?" Klaus reiterated.

"No but it seems like a waste to leave the chapel like this..."

"I have to agree," Kol agreed.

"We are not getting married," Caroline growled. Klaus looked at her, hopefully at first before his gaze returned to his daughter.

"Caroline is right," he coughed. "And don't think you're not in trouble, Hope."

Little did they know that exactly one year later, Klaus and Caroline would be married in the same small chapel in Vegas. Hope called it a win for her amazing intuition skills and breaking down Caroline's fear of Elvis. Meanwhile, Kol was happy to win another million dollars and when all was said and done Klaus figured he left Vegas far better than he'd arrived.

Read and review HERE

#fools rush in #misssophiachase #klaroline drabbles #loving klaroline

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higharollakockamamie · 7 years

Note

mgs for that fandom asks thing!

All riiiight, let’s do this!

How I entered/learned about the said game/show/movie/etc of that fandom

So back in the day when it first came out, MGS was HUGE. Totally unavoidable, on all the best game of the year lists, one of the biggest titles for the console, all that jazz. At the time my gaming interests were intense but very narrow. I’d barely give time of day to anything that wasn’t an RPG. On top of that, I was a contrary dumbass who got hype aversion something fierce, and the funny thing is, for as omnipresent as it was, you could know of it without actually knowing anything about it, so, honest to god, I thought it was some grey dull Tom Clancy-esque straight-faced military thing. So I was really, really slow to give it a chance.

And then I was in a duct and a guy was calling to talk to me about field mice, and I got the feeling I had been very wrong.

Fave character

Ahh, that’s hard! Liquid’s up there, and so’s Kaz, and Otacon, and random weirdos like The Pain, and Cecile for the total lack of fucks she gives, but it may have to be good old Solid. Can I count the twin Snakes together?

Least fave character

There’s no really horrible ones, but there’s ones like the Beauties who had a lot of potential that never really went anywhere, or Grey Fox, who just isn’t very interesting no matter how the games try. I’m never able to scare up any interest in childhood friend/old buddy characters, because it always feels like it’s assumed we care about them because we’ve been informed we’re supposed to. It doesn’t really work to try to make the audience care when all the reasons the other character cares are offscreen in backstory. Anyway that’s what the cyborg ninja has in common with Gale from the Hunger Games.

Oh, and Skullface, who was a hodgepodge of okay ideas with some really, really terrible ones. I may have shot him while yelling “TO THE HELL FOR MEDIOCRE ANTAGONISTS!”

OTP(s)

Snake/Otacon’s the classic, but I also love VKaz, and really I’ll read just about anything.

Pairing that everyone likes but I don’t get

BB/V, maybe? Though I’m not sure how popular that is. It’s hard to find a way to get them together in the same place, or even thinking about each other, without demystifying it or defusing the cool parts of them being a double of each other, or making V weaker and less interesting than he really is. I sure can’t think of any, though I’ve been tempted to give it a shot just for experiment’s sake.

Fave thing about the fandom

That it’s still going, for one thing! You can pachinko the series to death, Konami, but you can’t get rid of us! Also I love when people get weird and creative with the material, like with how ridiculously great Yellowcake is.

The most despised thing

Alt-right types with MGS icons. Come on, man, how do you miss the point that hard?

If there is something I would change from said game/show/movie/etc., what would it be.

Besides, you know, letting MGSV be finished and not hurriedly welded together in a dark tunnel somewhere, for as much as I love Liquid, even if Kingdom of the Flies had made it in (which I’m honestly glad it didn’t), Eli’s role really didn’t add enough to V to be worth the weird mangling of backstory and all the retconning it took to put him in.

Also, either let Quiet and the other Skull snipers dress less stupid, or make the male Skulls dress more stupid. These half measures are bullshit!

Thank you for the ask!

#skazuhira-miller

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frankchurchillsaysrelax · 7 years

Text

Here is my first attempt at writing for the Supergirl fandom. I don’t know if it’s any good but I’m pretty proud of it.

This story does contain a minor character’s death but is mostly just 2500 words of Winn-centric angst with the tiniest bit of Monwinn thrown in because I’m weak and literally can’t help myself.

leaving these broken pieces behind you

“Winslow Schott Sr., aka the Toyman, was found guilty today for his acts of terror on the city last year. Previously serving a life sentence, Schott has now received the death penalty and is scheduled to be executed by way of lethal injection later this month. Family members of his original victims declined to comment and….”

Winn didn’t hear any more as he quickly made his way out of the cafe, forgetting all about his coffee and the donuts he’d promised to bring Kara. He doubted that anyone there even knew who he was, but it still felt like all eyes were on him.

Had he known what was happening in a courtroom on the other side of the city, he would have never left his apartment this morning.

He’d wanted nothing to do with the trial. Agent Chase had promised him that he wouldn’t have to testify, and so he’d pushed it all from his mind. He’d tried to anyway.

Numbly walking into the DEO he knows he’s not imagining the stares any longer. People here know his name and oh how he wishes he could go back to the days of being the invisible tech guy. Before he can reach his desk he hears someone calling his name and the attention it draws makes his skin itch and his throat tighten.

“Winn! Are you alright? We heard–”

“I’m fine Kara, honestly.” His smile is too wide, his cheerfulness is too fake. He doesn’t care.

“But Winn–”

“I said I’m fine,” he shouts.

Kara’s eyes widen briefly before a look of hurt passes over her features. Again, he can’t really bring himself to care.

“Sorry,” he offers halfheartedly, “but I really need you to drop it.”

Kara goes to speak again, but Alex stops her with a hand on her arm as she walks up to them.

“Winn, why don’t you go home for today. That wasn’t a suggestion,” she adds before he can argue. “We’ll call you in if anything major comes up, but otherwise we don’t need you here being distracted.” Her voice carries all the authority of an Assistant Director, but her eyes hold that same soft Danvers concern he’s used to only seeing from Kara.

Grabbing his bag he walks back out without a word.

“Whiskey and make it a double.”

“Sure thing buddy!” On some level Winn can see that Mon-El has gotten better at his job; he doesn’t even need to check the labels before grabbing the right bottle anymore. Normally Winn would feel proud of his sort-of friend but today he feels nothing. Or he feels too much, he’s not sure. The numb feeling had begun to subside on his walk over. He’s hoping the alcohol will help fix that.

Mon-El sets the shot glass in front of him and Winn knocks it back quickly before motioning for the Daxamite to pour him another. The bar is practically empty at this time of day and the other man stands back and watches with his usual charming smirk as Winn downs the second drink just as fast. Mon-El asks what brings him in this early, but he ignores him and the alien begins to ramble about his morning and the other patrons he’s served.

Winn’s not sure if he hasn’t heard the news or if he just doesn’t care. It could go either way with Mon-El. He grunts in response to the alien’s continued gossip and motions for him to pour a third shot.

Mon-El does so, but he watches him down it with a furrowed brow that on a normal day Winn would find cute. He asks for a beer and Mon-El sets it down before walking off to busy himself with something else, and Winn cares about his disappearance more that he’d like to.

He’s been at the bar for several hours and Mon-El has given him several more drinks without a word. Winn doesn’t notice when the alien slips out to make a phone call or when someone sits down on the bar stool next to him until they put a hand on his shoulder.

“Winn?”

He turns to stare at Kara for a moment before falling clumsily forward to rest his forehead on her shoulder. “I’m not fine,” he whispers brokenly.

“I know,” she replies. She wraps her arms around him in a tight hug and he both loves and hates that he can feel it.

When he wakes up in the morning there is a blissful few seconds where he doesn’t remember the events of the day before. Then, with the pain of his hangover it all comes rushing back.

He’s not in his bed but sprawled face down on Kara’s couch. The ridiculous amount of natural light that falls into her loft is blinding him and he gropes around for something to cover his head.

“Good morning.” Her voice is softer than the harsh knock of a mug against the table next to him and he’s grateful to have a best friend who knows how to control her volume.

He sits up slowly and grabs the mug, inhaling the scent deeply before taking a sip. Kara sits next to him on the couch and nervously adjusts her glasses.

“What can I do?” she eventually asks. The crinkle in her forehead is out in full force and he focuses on it as he thinks.

“Just be here, I guess?” It comes out as a question because he doesn’t know what he needs right now. He does know that he doesn’t want to push her away again though.

“Always,” she answers, although it wasn’t necessary. He already knows she’s not going anywhere.

“Winn are we not even going to discuss this?”

“There isn’t anything to discuss. It’s my decision and I’m not going,” he sighs. “I’m not going to the execution, and I’m sure as hell not going to see him beforehand.” He turns back to the monitors at his desk with an air of finality, but of course she doesn’t let it go.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye?” Kara leans against the desk, crosses her arms across her chest, and tilts her head to the side like she’s trying to read him.

He attempts to ignore her and focus on the schematics he’d been studying before she’d ambushed him, but her words ring in his ears.

He’d never gotten to say goodbye to his father; he’d never even really noticed when he disappeared. One morning his dad was there and the next thing he knew there was an unrecognizable monster in his place being dragged into jail. He’d never seen his father again and after last year he knew that he didn’t even exist anymore.

Winn angles his chair so he’s facing her head on. He tries to find the words to explain it to her and finally comes up with a pathetically simple, “No.”

“Why did you keep your name?” Mon-El asks. He’s at the bar again, but this time he’s sticking to club soda.

“Huh?” is his eloquent response.

The other man motions vaguely towards where Kara is standing watching Alex and Maggie play pool. “Kara told me you have the same name as your father and that it draws tension to you.”

“Attention,” Winn corrects.

The Daxamite nods before continuing, “She also said that your mother left you and you were given a new family. So why did you keep your name?”

Winn makes a mental note to talk to Kara about private information. Specifically that it is not to be shared with the hot alien frat boy he barely knows.

He can feel Mon-El’s eyes on him as he stares down into his glass and decides he needs something stronger for this conversation. Mon-El looks hesitant, but Winn promises to limit himself to one beer.

“I stayed with a lot of different families after my mom left,” he begins once he’s had a few sips of the alcohol, “but none of them really wanted to keep me so I wasn’t given a chance to change my name while I was in the system.”

Mon-El’s brow furrows and Winn definitely finds it cute this time.

“Why don’t you change it now?” The alien leans his forearms against the bar and his face is suddenly a lot closer. Winn’s not sure if it’s that or the beer taking quick effect that is making him feel lightheaded.

He sits back and drinks nearly half the bottle at once. “Why did you decide to go by Mon-El instead of using the name Kara gave you?” he eventually asks after a few moments of intense staring.

“Because it’s who I am, it’s the name I was given by my people and it’s a way for me to remember them by,” Mon-El says passionately.

Winn tips the bottle in the alien’s direction and raises an eyebrow smugly. “Well, there you go.”

“Hello Winn,” the cheerful voice startles him. He spins around in his chair and sees Mon-El approaching his desk.

“Hey dude, what,” he pauses and scratches the back of his head, turning back to his monitors, “what are you doing here?”

Mon-El leans casually against his desk and picks up a stapler, fiddling with it and wasting staples. “I’m here to train with Kara,” he says.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s been replaced in this aspect; it makes more sense for Kara to work with him since she can spar against him safely. It’s not like he misses watching the Daxamite show off his abilities. Definitely not.

Winn grabs the stapler as the constant clicking becomes annoying and sets it back on his desk. He brushes the small piles of staples into his waste basket and glances at the alien out of the corner of his eye. He barely notices the way the other man’s muscles flex and strain against his shirt sleeves when he crosses his arms.

“Would you like to join us?”

“Joi-join, join you?” Winn clears his throat. “Join you where?”

“For training!” Mon-El grins widely and rocks back on his heels. “I know your wig is out because of your dad and I thought a good work out might help you.”

“Wigging out, I’m wigging out because of my dad,” Winn corrects, and he realizes that it’s true. Even nearly three weeks later he’s still a mess of feelings, mostly anger. Maybe a round or two against the punching bag wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Unless, you think you can’t keep up with us?” Mon-El’s smirk is so smug Winn is tempted to exchange the punching bag for his face, if he didn’t have to worry about breaking his hand. Instead he settles for rolling his eyes.

“I’m still human dude, by definition I can’t keep up with you.” He turns back to the monitors and locks his computer before standing. “But I’m in, let’s go.”

“Sweetness!”

“Winn, Winn stop! Stop it!” Kara’s voice breaks through the haze of adrenaline he’s fallen under as she pulls him back, stopping his wild punches with her arms wrapped like a vice around his own. His breath is harsh and ragged, and his vision clears slowly, the red tint that had shadowed everything now receding.

A visibly concerned Mon-El is standing behind the punching bag to steady it. The fabric is marred with bright red streaks and Winn looks down at his shaking hands, the knuckles cracked and blood seeping through the tape he’d wrapped around them. He doesn’t realize that he’s crying until Kara’s hold on him shifts into a comforting embrace. His tears soak through her cape as he lets out all of the emotions he’s bottled up these last few weeks. He cries for his father who died a long time ago, for his mother who’d been too weak to stay and live in her new reality, and for the little eleven year old boy who’d lost them both.

“I’ll go, but,” he looks up at Kara and Mon-El, who’d come to stand beside them, “will you come with me? Both of you,” he adds looking straight at Mon-El who looks surprised but nods right along with Kara.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Winn whispers as he glances around the small room. A curtain was drawn on the other side of the large window facing the rows of seats as if they were waiting for a play to start.

“Well then let’s go. This place is a bum,” Mon-El says loudly earning him some annoyed glances from the families of the Toyman’s victims.

Kara throws the Daxamite an exasperated look before turning to her best friend. “Winn, we’ll do whatever you want. Do you want to leave?”

Before he can answer, the curtain is pulled back and the room goes silent as the prisoner is led into the room by two guards. His face is passive and he looks more like his father than when Winn last saw him; older and grayer than in his childhood memories, but with the same stoic look that he would get when he was lost in thought.

Winn sits frozen in his seat and barely reacts when Kara grabs his hand and Mon-El puts an arm around his shoulders, subtly pulling him a little closer. His eyes trace his father’s face imagining the man he could have been, committing him to memory. That’s what he was here for after all; to say goodbye, to get closure. For the first time in a long time he allows himself to wonder what kind of life he would have had if none of this had ever happened.

While he’s being strapped down and his arm is prepped for the needle, the Toyman takes his time glancing at the crowd. His eyes meet Winn’s and his emotionless features are twisted up into a sinister smile. Winn looks down at his lap, not missing the wink the monster sends him or the way the aliens on either side of him each tighten their hold protectively.

The needle is inserted. Each plunger drops. One. Two. Three. And in just a few minutes the last piece of his father is gone. Everyone stands and starts to shuffle out of the room, and he practically has to be dragged out by his friends.

Winn doesn’t get to say goodbye and he doesn’t get closure.

Once again those have been stolen from him by the same evil that stole his family nearly fifteen years ago. Once again Winn is left to deal with the mess. Walking out of the prison, one hand still in Kara’s and the other claimed by Mon-El, he knows this time he won’t have to do it alone.

#i love him but i want the writers to give him more angst #because he does it so well #winn schott #my fic #supergirl #i really hope this isn't crap #apparently i've never used that tag before #which is surprising

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martywurst · 7 years

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My First and Worst Year: Producing A Show

I get caught up in the gossip. Shitting on comedians that I barely know. I'm trying to stop that. Early on, I was one those guys that would say something negative because I was trying to start a dialogue and reinforce any negative feelings I had about someone. Usually based in nothing; maybe one lousy first impression or through the grapevine on Facebook. Unfortunately, talking shit is a major way to bond with other inexperienced comics. A lot of miserable, sarcastic, unmotivated, boring comics. Or 10+ year comics that bitch about how unfair everything is. They can't talk to you for 30 seconds without shitting on something.

Now I know that's not me. I never feel good about it and it never helps.

The comics I look up to are modest, rarely say anything bad about anyone because they're just focused. They don't feed the fire. I'd rant about something and they wouldn't have anything to add to it. Maybe something along the lines of,

"Yeah, that can happen," kind of response.

I'd see the look on their face. I'm the problem.

I was the same way in Junior High. Picking on the popular kids and being obnoxious because I was so desperate to be a part of their circle. Afraid to be myself. Afraid to put in that kind of work.

I'll be obsessed with some idiot for hours on a Facebook thread, so tempted to participate in the attack, but where is it going to get me? Fuck, I could've written something. I should be writing jokes now, but I think I know something about blogging and comedy! I feel like I'm just regurgitating boring opinions that have been voiced on hundreds of podcasts already, I'll try to pepper this section up! Check out this sweet ass pimp kitty vest!

I always want to prove myself to other comics. An audience of strangers is always amazing, but I do feel the pressure of an all-comic mic. It's way too important to me. I don't want to be written off, I know I can be funny. Maybe not the last 20 times you saw me, but I'll get there, don't write me off!

When I had a decent set in front of someone I respected, I felt like I could check that off. Okay, that person doesn't think I'm a piece of shit anymore. I proved myself. Getting closer to being an actual comic! Every good set is a stepping stone. My bad sets would just temporarily render me useless. Instead of doing my homework and adjusting, I would just write something new or beat a bad joke into the ground. Maybe it'll work the 27th time.

"The people that go to Burning Man only need these two words to communicate: Burning...man!"

*crickets slashing wrists*

I bombed in front of Sean Conroy and took it kind of hard. Intimidating dude, (like the Ron Perlman of improvisation) he was sitting in the front row at Echoes Under Sunset with his arms crossed, waiting for his set and just watching me hang myself. He'd probably seen a thousand variations of the heckler character I was doing. I picked on him in character, but he wouldn't roll with it. Why would he? It was more fun to watch me squirm.

Every time I asked him a question he would answer,

"Sure."

Which is sort of the "fuck you" version of "yes and," It's an improv thing.

I was berating the audience for being a bunch of hipsters. Yelling out,

"Well I got something for ALL OF YOU!"

Then I started handing out free coffee coupons from a local coffee shop. Sean politely declined.

I had my bombing routine where I would call up Claire afterwards and tell her I just ate shit. Or who I ate shit in front of. She would convince me that it was okay, everybody bombs, and remind me that I'd had good sets before. She would tell me that she loved me and make me feel better about what had happened. Oh, there is life after tomorrow, I forgot! Thanks, baby!

Claire understands the grind. She's a fan of a lot of the people I look up to and we listen to a lot of the same podcasts now. She got into Jen Kirkman and The Longshot Podcast early on and now she subscribes to more comedians than I do. We went to Power Violence and a number of shows at The Improv. Pete Holmes, Todd Glass, Ron Lynch, Eddie Pepitone, Maron, Sebastian, Ian Edwards, and Tig- we love Tig. She pushed me to go on the road. She encouraged me to stop using the train and take her car instead. She makes this all possible. It's unbelievable. She even made cookies when I produced my own show.

I'd done a couple of shows at The Lexington with Tony Bartolone where I did some character stuff. I played a wrestler, a heckler that takes on Mr. Goodnight and a squarish Steve Allen type talk show host. Anyway, the owner liked me enough and said if I ever wanted to use the space, hit him up.

Tony was nice enough to help me too, he ran sound for me. Uggh, I didn't even give him a fucking spot and he ran sound for me- that's how great a guy he is and how SELFISH I can be.

I think the best thing in comedy after doing standup is booking your own show. Reaching for the stars, pulling in friends, what a great position to be in! Compiling a fantasy list of mostly male comics and shooting them a message on Facebook.

So if you're a new comic wondering, how the hell do I get booked on a show?

Well, a moron like me could accidentally see you at an open mic and then end up liking you! And I'm the guy who did a shitty set before you, remember? You never know who could be running shows.

Most people got back to me pretty quick. Comedians love a full calendar.

I adored The Walsh Brothers. So original and twisted. They blew my mind at TigerLily and I finally met the guys through a mutual friend.

Brian Scolaro was someone I had talked to outside of The Comedy Store. He's one of the first comics to give me any kind of advice,

"Don't move To Long Beach."

I was a fanboy of Dean Delray. I heard Matty Goldberg on Danny Lobell's podcast and dug his book about his friendship with Angelo Bowers. Ron Babcock was one of the friendly guys on the scene, loved his standup. I'd worked on a webseries with Paul Danke. Just met a lot of the other comics at open mics. I worked with Jeanne Whitney at Arclight Hollywood and we started standup around the same time. I watched Timika Hall do her first set at Echoes Under Sunset and she was great! Ester Steinberg cracked me up at The Palace and then I wanted to book her after I saw this sketch. She just happened to be hanging out with Neel Nanda when I was booking him, so I got both of them right then and there.

Robert Vertrees was brand new like me, but I just dug his story.

I knew I'd never have to worry about Ken Garr.

Just read his awesome blog entry "One Year Later and Why I Should Quit"

I should've taken note and made my blog shorter! That dude is a complete professional and will never hesitate to give you his tour dates at the MGM in Las Vegas.

Jak Knight was edgy and exciting. Jon Durnell was the best thing about a bringer show I did at the Formosa. I didn't even know Lisa Landry, but Brian asked if she could be on. Same thing with Kevin James Moore, a buddy of Matty's.

Maagic Collins is one of the kindest souls I've ever met. I love his standup. He would show up to my afternoon Tribal mic on Saturdays. Very supportive guy.

I think I saw Rick Wood at Power Violence and he just blew me away.

Anyway, you get the fucking point, this was just an excuse to drop everyone's links. Jesus Christ.

One time I made the amateur mistake of messaging too many people at once and then having to tell one comic I'd put them on the next show. I got a lot of grief for that and I was pulling my hair out. I was getting a guilt trip from the disappointed comic and now I didn't want to book him at all. It was totally my fault, but I was just getting through the learning curve. Book carefully, and wait for your damn responses.

Another recurring thing that kept coming up is a comic wanting to bring a friend for a guest spot. It's a good rule of thumb to keep a spot open for a possible drop-in. Or just book less comics Marty. Aren't you glad you paid $200 for this helpful comedy workshop tip?

I was also planning on doing all these wacky sketches and transitions that had nothing to do with the stand-up comedy. I wanted to make it an event. I asked Chris Walsh if we could have an extended dialogue where the Walsh Brothers get in an argument with me and then pretend to shoot me from the audience...so now I'm suddenly on the level of The Walsh Brothers! Proposing bits. Chris was really nice about it and declined in the best way possible. He made me realize that I should only work on the hosting- not all this extra dressing. I'd be stressed out enough. Plus, The Walsh Brothers have their own thing going on and it's hilarious.

Claire helped me with some basic PR stuff; shooting out emails to various websites with LA calendars of events. Lot of people check online for free entertainment. I hit up LA Weekly early enough to get this delightful blip:

Did I pay anyone? I paid Dean Delray. I paid Brian Scolaro. It seems a little unfair now, I had The Walsh Brothers, Ron Babcock, Paul Danke, and Matty Goldberg, who all have a shitload of experience.

I got this dumb idea that I should write thank you notes to everyone else. Looking back, I gave comedians false hope of money in those envelopes, only to find a badly scrawled "thank you" with some shitty stick figure doodles. At least there were cookies at the gig.

Brian mentioned the 50 bucks onstage and I was really embarrassed. It exposed the inner-workings of my inexperience and that I was holding out on everyone else. I think I would do it differently now, but it was a free show.

Tony watched me have a mini-meltdown. I was stressing out because there was a band that was booked on a show immediately after and it was clear that I was going to run over their time. I thought if I gave up my own set and kept bringing the next comic up, we'd finish on time without cutting anyone's sets down.

Tony explained to me that I shouldn't of worried about that, that it was worse to bring the comics up cold. It's better to keep the audience warmed up, but I was hopping back on stage saying,

"Give it up for Ron Babcock, and now let's keep it moving- Matty Goldberg!"

I didn't get it. I thought running over my time would fuck things up and I'd never get to do a show again. I shouldn't of booked so many comics anyway- Paul Danke was going on dead last, and he'd been waiting around so long, I felt horrible. I should buy his album.

So don't sacrifice your time for the sake of the next show- be a good host, Wurst.

But that first show had a great turnout, especially for The Lexington. The comics were kind of impressed. That extra leg work paid off.

I remember I wanted to bring Dean Delray up to a Led Zeppelin song and I kept bothering Tony about it when the order changed. Then when the music came up, Dean was clearly stoked and that little moment meant a lot to me.

On his way out he yelled,

"Congratulations on your 1st year of stand up!"

Speaking of which, I asked Melina Paez if I could be in her "DropTheSoapTV" series, where comics do stand-up in her shower. It was a fun way to cap off my first year.

Okay, that was rather manic. Just a couple steps away from Denis Leary- uggh. Anyway, I STOPPED doing that. Here's a message to myself as I time-travel back to the shower,

Horrible jokes, asshole! Your taint is hilarious by the way.

I just want to thank the people that encouraged me or gave me useful information when I started bumbling my way through open mics that first year (July 2013-2014)

Brett Gilbert, Ric Rosario, Matty Goldberg, Tony Bartolone, Jason Van Glass, Ron Babcock, Dean Delray, Chris Walsh, Matt Walsh, Danny Lobell, Mollie Gross, Melina Paez, Brian Scolaro, Jamie Flam, Jeremiah Watkins, Mike Celestino, Justin Alexio, Neel Nanda, Mikey de Lara, Paul Danke, Ari Mannis, Lydia Robinson, Ryan Doolittle, Maagic Collins, Don Barris, Elissa Rosenthal, Rob Antus, K-von, Jarrett and Emily Galante, Christiane Georgi, Hiro Matsunaga, Greg James, Carly Craig, Matthew Hilton, Sally Mullins, Matt Sauter, Matt Gamarra, Donald McKinney, Ryan Kain, Jeremy Fultz, Del Weston, Derick Armijo, Alisha Morine, Nicole Malina, Devon Schwartz, Andy Salamone, Barbara Gray, Sean Conroy, Myles Weber, Ricky Winston, Frankie Ma, Rishi Arya, Brandon Birckz, Sean K., Mike Menendez, Jamar Neighbors, Mr. Goodnight, Erica Rhodes, Matt Champagne, David Gerhardt, The Martin Duprass, John Silver, Ryan Pfeiffer, Kevin Anderson, Whitney Melton, Kym Kral, Jared Levin, Kenneth Lion, Alex Croll, Adam Carr, Trevor James, Deon Williams, Amber Brashear, Pat Regan, Brad Silnutzer, Rob Weissman, Marty, Graham Curan, Eddie Pepitone, Quincy Johnson, Blythe Metz, Willie Dynamite, Freddy Morales, Marcela Perdomo, Nick Kaufman, Atelston Fitgerald Holder The 1st, Bruce Boiman, Tom Allen, Melissa Villasenor, Maria Bamford, Todd Glass, Lou Perez, Allison Anders, Jeremy Bassett, Tony Alfieri, Laura Niles, Tamoy Sherman, Chaliss Robinson, Eddie Whitehead Jr, Brent Weinbach, Jill Maragos, Jodi Miller, Luz Pazos, Brianna Murphy, Sasha Kapustina, Alain Villenueve, Brad James, Lauren Kiang, Yoav, Ken Garr, David Gregorian, Jordan Leer, Stefano Della Pietra, Down Under Comedy Club, Mike Garrison, Brad and Sara Harris, Thomas Hussey, Harold, Chino, Tiffany Gomes, Simon Gibson, Joe Wagner, Scott Luhrs, Jay Weingarten, Joe Kardon, Pedro Salinas, Willie Dynamite, Robert Vertrees, Amber Kenny, Karah Britton, Alison Tafel, David Hill, Andy Kosec, Micah Lile, Chris Putro, Kris Rubio, Jade Thom, Brodie Reed, Ryan Talmo, Kevin Lee, Kellie Ann, Jeanne Whitney, Jake Kroeger, Nikki Riordan, Tim Mars, Christian Chavez, Jake Adams, Louise Hung, Michael Donato, my Geffen peeps, all my Arclight friends, Stella friends, childhood friends and family that came out to support.

Or if you're just generally nice to me thanks. You gave me the strength to go out and bomb one more time.

Shout out to Mike Celestino's great documentary "That's Not Funny".

and finally To Claire:

For every time I called you up to moan out my discontent, only to be dissuaded from my stubborn misery because of your constant light, love, and gentle reasoning.

For those open mics you'll never be able to unsee.

I love you more than open mic comedians love pussy jokes.

And as you know, that's a hell of a lot.

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