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voiceless-terror · 3 years

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Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair.

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves. It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction.

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.”

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels.

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine.

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious.

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat.

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence.

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk.

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction.

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then.

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

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suckerfordeansfreckles · 5 years

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read on AO3

The thing is, Dean is very happy for Sam and Eileen.

He is so damn happy for them, in fact, that he’s house-sitting their stupid, fancy, white picket-fence and two-story home with its floor to ceiling windows to flood their home with light during all hours of the day.

With their stupidly large garden, lush green lawn, their flower beds and their huge pool with its ridiculously light blue water.

Yes, he’s happy for them.

He’s also maybe a little envious, so what. That’s alright. He’s allowed to feel this way sometimes.

It’s not even that he wants all this, really. He’d be damn happy with a small bungalow, a moderately-sized garden and a bit of space to plant herbs for cooking.

But then there’s also the fact that those two are true mates, that they are so madly in love, so perfect for each other, it’s disgusting. And Dean, well, he’s an omega over thirty that hasn’t bothered with relationships in more than eight years, has kind of given up on finding someone to have all that domestic and romantic bliss with.

So Dean is a little bitter, but only in the safety and privacy of his own head, and definitely never around his brother and his sister-in-law. Because those two really do deserve all the happiness in the world. And just because Dean wishes for a little happiness for himself, he will not ruin their bliss.

The thing that’s a little hard on him, though, is that during the past few months their place somehow started to feel more like home than his own apartment does. He’s not even over that much, but he feels so safe and good and happy, here. It’s a space he feels like himself in, and it’s not really the company, it feels more like the energy around their house, the amazing smell seemingly haunting Dean when he drives back home and slowly loses it. He’s not sure which flowers Eileen planted that smell this way, but he’s been meaning to ask her for months.

And now that they are in Hawaii for their honeymoon and Dean gets daily selfie updates, their tan faces adorned with smiles so wide they look like they must hurt, blue ocean and sandy beaches behind them, well.

Well, it’s Friday, day three of house and garden sitting, and since Dean doesn’t have to be at the garage tomorrow, he finally takes Sam and Eileen up on their offer to at least make use of their pool while he’s being a lovely and admirable brother and house-sits, and waters their damn perfect lawn and their flowers.

So he drives over to their place after work, gets their mail and carries it inside, and leaves his heavy work boots by the door. He switches on all the sprinklers in their yard, and then he wanders into their wooden garden shed to grab the closest pool floatie.

And then, while the water sprinkles away around him, he drops the floatie in the pool and drops his shirt, his socks, his pants and underwear on the porch.

This is another amazing thing about Sam and Eileen’s place — they live in uttermost privacy. Their garden is hidden behind the house, two sides of it adjoining wide fields drowning in wheat around summer time, and the only private property next to their place has been abandoned and empty for years.

So Dean doesn’t give a second thought, just focuses on the giddy happiness he feels when his skin is bared to the soft warmth of the evening sun, focuses on how warm the water is when he steps into the pool. Focuses on the way the plastic of Eileen’s ridiculously cute watermelon floatie burns against his back and butt and thighs when he sinks down on it and lets the softly ebbing water carry him into the middle of the pool.

It’s bliss, the way this amazing smell in this stupid garden seems even stronger during the heat, the way the birds are chirping above him, the water softly licking against the floatie and his arms and legs, where they dangle into the cool water.

He’s pretty sure he could doze off like this, were it not for the fact that he’s honestly very, very scared of burning his dick where it’s getting a bit of sun right now. He never considered this before, but with the sun hitting his favorite bits, he can just imagine the pain of getting sunburnt.

So he hums Zep under his breath to stay awake, even while he closes his eyes to catch some rest. He’ll have to rotate in a few minutes, but right now he just wants to enjoy the way the sun is tickling his nose.

He takes a deep breath, wants to fill his lungs with this scent, something sweet like cherry, something smooth and deep like maybe whiskey, maybe cedar wood. Another deep breath that turns into a yawn, that has him stretching along the floatie until his fingertips dip into the cool water above his head, toes stretched and —

And then his peace and quiet is interrupted by a loud crashing noise that has him startle so hard, he almost topples off the floatie and into the water.

“Shit,” someone swears under their breath, quickly followed by another bang, and that’s when Dean notices a head full of dark, tousled hair trying to duck away on the other side of the fence. On the property Dean thought empty.

“What the fuck,” Dean can’t help but burst, and then again when he slips off the floatie and into the water to hide his body from this creep next door. It’s so cold, he breaks out in goosebumps immediately, even while treading water and frantically moving his arms. “Dude, what the actual fuck? You getting off, creeping on people like that? What are you doing on an abandoned property, huh? ‘m gonna call the police on you the second I can step outta this stupid pool, asshole!”

The person on the other side clears their throat twice before they start to ramble, shaky and obviously embarrassed: “God, I’m — I’m really so sorry. I knew my neighbors were gone for the following two weeks. Sam told me his brother would come over to water the flowers, too, but I didn’t — but I thought that’d be that! Watering the flowers, not... Not this. Fuck, I’m unbelievably sorry I surprised you like that. You… you’re Dean, then?”

Now that the shock of it has worn off a bit, and the goosebumps on Dean’s skin aren’t as violent as they were when he jumped into the water, his brain let’s him connect the dots. Neighbors. Sam and Eileen’s new neighbor. The dude he just called a creep. And an asshole. Oh, and the guy that most definitely just got a good look on Dean’s junk.

Well, if that isn’t a good first impression.

“The — Yes, I mean, yeah. I’m Dean. You’re… the neighbor?” he stutters back. He swims closer, until he can press against the wall of the pool and feel less exposed.

“Castiel,” comes from the other side, still only a few crazy locks visible behind the wooden fence. And all Dean can think about is how absolutely fucking ridiculous he must be looking right now, crouching behind the fence and hiding. “Castiel Novak. Sorry, for the, um, for looking.”

Dean snorts, fingers drumming on the stones laid out around the edge of the pool. It smells overwhelmingly like chlorine, down here, and Dean starts feeling a little squirrely like this, unable to pick up a smell from the guy, unable to even just guess his subgender. “Castiel, huh? You gonna show me the face to the name, too?”

Castiel clears his throat again, there’s some shuffling, and then he stands up tall. The first thing Dean can think is that he really must have been crouching awkwardly, because standing straight, Dean can not only see his head, but also his shoulders and chest poking up above the fence.

The second thought is even worse, because Dean can’t help but notice how goddamn gorgeous the creep is. Wide, tan shoulders, a sharp jawline that’s covered in dark stubble, eyes that look deep and piercing even from all the distance, and a mop of delightfully tousled brown hair.

The third thing he notices is the bright blush covering the guy’s cheeks, the sheepish look on his face.

“Hello,” Castiel says, raspy and low, blush spreading up to his ears.

And then Dean can’t really help the soft grin that stretches over his face even against his best efforts. “Hey there, Cas,” he answers.

“I’m really sorry,” Cas stutters again, grimacing a little. “I didn’t know you were — I didn’t know. I wasn’t trying to creep on you or anything. I promise. I mean, I realize that doesn’t mean much, but… Just. Sorry.”

Dean laughs again, pushing up and out of the water until he can lean up on lower arms on the sun-warm stones, letting his lower body float in the water behind him. “All good, man. Maybe give me some privacy when I jump out and grab a towel in a few minutes, and I’ll be outta your hair after that, anyway.”

“Oh,” Cas says as he averts his eyes, blush coming back to his face. “Oh sure, yeah. Yes, I’ll leave you to it. Again, sorry for interrupting you.” And with that, he turns around and rushes away.

Dean’s a little disappointed, would have enjoyed watching Cas embarrassedly squirming his way through a bit more conversation, maybe one more apology, one more bright blush on those cute stubbled cheeks. Whatever, Dean will probably see him around during the next few days, anyway. Hopefully. Maybe. He didn’t seem like a creep after all, actually kind of cute.

With Cas gone, Dean spends a little more time just floating, enjoying the cool water carrying him. But then he thinks about what it’d be like to call Cas back, ask him to join Dean in the water. What would happen if he got Cas all naked and wet and close.

When Dean realizes that he can’t shake away that silly thought, he decides to get out, heaves himself out of the pool and pads his way towards his towel, leaving puddles of water on the stone floor while he wraps himself up.

He can’t help but check, once or twice, if Cas is still around, might be watching Dean again while he dries himself and slips into his boxers and grease-stained jeans. He looks over a few more times, on his way back onto the porch, but Cas has slipped into his house and is nowhere to be seen in his beautifully manicured yard — and how does he only notice this now? The colorful flower beds and trimmed hedges and the sunbed, pulled into the middle.

He shakes his head, switches off the sprinklers and heads back through the house and towards the front door.

He’s never in his life been as unenthusiastic about getting into Baby as he is now, sweat already dripping down his back while he locks the door behind himself, just thinking about getting into that heated-up monster.

But then he turns around and finds Cas next to his car, still shirtless, wearing nothing but swim trunks that would be a decent length if they weren’t currently rolling up on Cas’ thighs — and instead of sweat, shivers run down his spine.

Cas stumbles a step forward, arm stretching out towards him, and that’s when Dean notices a plastic box in his hand. “I, um, I have some pie. One last peace offering,” Cas says with an unsure smile, and Dean’s heart suddenly beats a little too fast.

Dean rushes down the front steps and closes the few feet distance between, watching as Cas blushes, mutters yet another: “Really, I’m so sorry.”

Dean steps even closer, down the sidewalk and right into Cas’ space, and that’s when the incredible smell from the garden amps up all around him, surrounds him and makes him feel a little dizzy.

Cas smiles at him, and for some reason that makes him feel even dizzier.

“That’s — that’s very sweet, Cas,” he says, smiling back so hard, it almost hurts a little. “Love me some good pie.”

When he reaches out to take the box from Cas’ hand, their fingers touch and something like an electric shock shoots through Dean’s arm. Cas startles back, eyes wide, slivers of alpha red twirling through the startling blue of them.

“Dean,” he says, sounding a little choked as he brings his hand up in front of his nose. “Dean, do you-”

And he thankfully doesn’t really need to finish his sentence for Dean to finally realize what smells so fucking good around here. Cas smells so fucking good, it’s Cas. It has been Cas for all this time.

All this fucking time, and Dean didn’t realize.

He decides then, on the spot, that it’s been enough time. He pauses for a second, asks, careful not to breathe in too deeply: “Cas, can I scent you?” He waits for Cas to finish his enthusiastic nod, and then he pounces.

And Cas catches him with open arms, tilts his head so Dean can properly bury his face in his neck, breathe him in, and holds him close.

Cas smells like cedar wood, and cherry, and rum — and home, alpha, maybe even mate. Buried in his neck, Dean can’t smell anything else, and he resigns himself to the way his omega is clawing at him. He accepts it, and then he acts, pressing his lips against Cas’ scent gland, licking his taste right off of his skin.

Cas whimpers, fingers digging into Dean’s hips, whispers something like “Please, please, please,” against Dean’s ear.

It takes a while for his omega to calm down a little, especially with the soft scent of arousal creeping into Cas’ scent. When he pulls away, Cas’ eyes are blown, crimson red, and his lips are parted in a sigh.

“Can I?” he asks, diving down against Dean’s neck a second after the words are out. He breathes against Dean’s skin, breath hot and heavy, making Dean’s mind whirl with possibilities. Cas gets his inner alpha under control surprisingly quickly, considering that his nose is buried against Dean’s scent gland, because he soon starts to leave soft kisses on the expanse of Dean’s neck.

“Cas,” Dean breathes, so happy he feels giddy and shaky. “Cas, wanna share that pie? Maybe in that pretty garden of yours?”

“Would love that,” Cas answers against Dean’s skin, and then he pulls back and looks at him again, smile wide and a little unbelieving. “Can I-” he starts again, and for the second time today, Dean knows what he wants to say before he can finish his sentence.

He meets Cas in a kiss halfway, a soft press of lips that has Dean aching for more.

When they pull away for breath, Cas intertwines their fingers and pulls Dean with him, through his wooden fence and his front yard, up into his house, where it smells so much like him, Dean actually stumbles a little when he takes his first breath in there.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Cas grins, smelling incredibly happy, a little nervous — but then they don’t talk for quite a while when Dean stumbles again, pushes Cas up against his front door and kisses him senseless.

My tag list:

@planetahmane @justyourordinaryfangirl @winchester-cas @castielinparadise @trxye-sxvxn @runtosleepdreamer @iamyouknow-yours @destielhoneybee @breathingdestiel@wellofwoes @xxgoldensnowflake @dshelley @robotsnchicks @jemariel@reallyelegantsharkfish @mellomish@frecklessaver @Roobear68 @jasminrogue@skittles-rainbow-cat@Insecureadult @fpwoper @imbiowaresbitch @destielangels@elaspn@waitwhyami @mercenarydestiel @a-pastel-pan @7faerielights @kathrinerose@wingsandimpalas @casbean @dellez @miasif @petrichoravellichor@trenchcoatsandfreckles @sleephawhoneedsit @vibraniumarm @youreabadliar@inlovewithsaturn @super-powerful-queen-slayyna @brangaene @all-or-nothing-baby@mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @error-name-not-in-this-dimension @elizaeverafter@letofarrell @apieceofurmind @notfunnydean @winchester-of-the-lord @all-or-nothing-baby @love-neve-dies @korppikasvo @imafluffyjellybean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

If you want to be added to - or removed from - the tag list, just let me know with a quick message <3 :)

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ericadownunderpart2 · 5 years

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The Great Barrier “Ralph”

Tuesday and Wednesday I checked off one of my bucket list activities. I took an overnight boat and snorkelled thr the Great Barrier Reef. We visited one of the Outer Reefs, the Thetford Reef, 3 hours out from Cairns. One of the ost spectacular sites ever!

So full disclosure, this might be one of my least visual appealing posts because I did not have an underwater camera and really didn’t use my phone too much because everything on the boat is soaking wet all the time. Most of the pics from topside are mine, but all the fish/coral pics are courtesy of the internet. They are all things I really saw though..Anyway, sit back, put your comfy pants on, get a glass of wine...cause this is a long one.

My Great Barrier Reef (GBR) voyage was aboard a small 65 foot motor sailing schooner called the Rum Runner. It was advertised as "an affordable reef experience for backpackers and budget-conscious travelers" (You know how I love a deal) It lives up to it's no frills expectations. The boat is owned by a man named Richard who is also known as Rum. He also owns the hostel I am staying at...another no frills frills experience. Rum is a kind of wiry frantic man, who when I told him that the door to the refrigerator fell off when I opened it, he said “Oh yeah, that...well, you can put your stuff in the other fridge.” Hmmm. No frills indeed. But it is actually a nice room with my own bed and A/C. All the basics covered.

Anyway, back to the reef...the captain of the Rum Runner was also quite a character. His name is Jace and he looks exactly like what you would imagine a grizzled sailor to look like (only he’s on the small side). Long, unkempt hair and covered in nautical tattoos,.His personality is a grizzled as his exterior would suggest. Classic! (No photo, use your imagination)

A motley crew

We were at full capacity on the small boat with 16 passengers and 5 crew. (I actually think we might have been over capacity, but its not the kind of boat that is concerned with that kind of thing.) My fellow passengers on the trip were a fun and eclectic mix of international backpackers hailing from 9 different countries including Japan, Germany, the Netherlands, the UK, New Zealand, France, etc.

The ride out to the reef was a 3 hour trip. It started with fun a chatting and general excitement. Things quickly turned sour. The reason I named this post The Great Barrier “Ralph” was due to the rough seas heading out to the reef and the puking/ralphing fest that ensued. Of the 16 passengers, at my best count 9 were lined up along the side of the ship throwing up for most of the ride out. A seasickness extravaganza. I was shockingly one of the only people not throwing up. Considering my general aversion to water for most of my early life, I was shocked to be one of the ones who had my sea legs. This air of cockiness would catch up to me later, but more to come on that...

By the time we got out to the reef, most people, although a little sad, queasy and haggard had stopped ralphing over the side and it was time to get our diving/snorkeling on. Most of the passengers were certified divers. There were only three of us who opted for the snorkel only package, which proved to be the best decision. My snorkel buddies are my new favorite travel friends, Sophie & Oscar. Sophie is a “Kiwi” (a person from New Zealand) and Oscar, Sophie’s BF, is originally from Sweden. They would turn out to be my travel companions for the rest of my time in Cairns.

Snorkel buddies

The three of us had nearly free reign of the reef on each dive, as the crew was preoccupied with the divers. On day one, we did 4 dives at sites around an Outer Reef known as the Thetford Reef. Although the GBR is in danger due to global warming, it is absolutely huge and some parts of it are still flourishing. We were on just one of over 3,000 reef groups that make up the GBR!

So what is it like to snorkel in open ocean? Absolutely terrifying. Thanks for asking. If I’m being totally honest my entire first & maybe second dive I was freaking out. I made them give me floaty because I was scared I would drown and never be seen again. As it turns out, it is salt water and we were all wearing wet suits so, I was so buoyant I couldn’t have drowned if I wanted to. It took a few dives for me to realize this. Most of the reefs we saw were shaped like giant mountains or mushroom clouds under the water. You can snorkel right over the top of them and the corals are only a few feet from you. Once I got over the initial fear of drowning or being eaten by sharks, I discovered it is one of the most magical experiences ever. You can swim with schools of beautiful, iridescent fish. There are so many of them. The fish and the reef are ever color imaginable and they are so close to you! One of the best experiences is when you swim over the top of the reef and get to the edge...all of a sudden it drops off into huge caverns, sometimes hundreds of feet deep. It feels like you are flying. You’re first instinct is that you are going to fall off the edge, until you realize you are floating above the void. It is literally like flying above mountains and valleys, except they are underwater and made of coral.

In the deep dropoffs there are schools of large fish, we saw Tuna, which are huge and Unicorn Fish, which are hilarious.

Again, disclaimer, I did not take these photoss, but this is what they look like.

“Unicorn Fish” - Naso brevirostris

Tuna

In the shallows of the reefs, we found Nemo!! (Clown fish are the cutest), these crazy neon blue worms that hide when you splash water at them, and other smaller fish. Some of my other favorites below:

Butterfly fish. So cute, they were always swimming in pairs.

Five banded Damselfish. I could just swim right in the middle of a school of them.

Blue Puller Damsel Fish

Bi-color Clown Fish Nemo!)

Coral Trout

Giant Clams

Table Coral

Brain Coral

Blue Coral

Each dive was about an hour and I didn’t want to come back each time. It was beyond words...]

Pics from rear of the Rum Runner at dusk

The other thing that is amazing about being out on the reef is the sunset and at night there is almost no light and we were out on a clouody night. We had dinner and a beer and headed to bed in our tiny bunks. I don’t think I have ever been so tired. I’m pretty sure I was asleep by 8pm.

The next day we were up at 7am for our morning dive. The first of two for the final day. On each dive the reefs got progressively more amazing (maybe because I could finally fully relax and enjoy them) The abundance of fish chasing each other around the reef and hiding in little reef caves was phenomenal. On our final dive of the day, we swam out to a large, shallow thin reef, with deep crevasses running through the reef. I was swimming a little further away from my companions, near a crevasse, and all of a sudden a HUGE fish came out of the black of the crevasse and swam right past my face. It was what is known as a Humphead Wrasse. They are one of the largest fish in the reef. The one I saw was easily 4 feet long.

Humphead or Maori Wrasse (They can live up to 30 years, but are currently on the endangered species list)

Of course, I immediately thought it was something that was going to eat me. I panicked and swam down to avoid it, this led to me taking in a ton of water into my snorkel and completely forgetting how to blow it out again. I ended up swallowing a TON of salt water in my panic. I eventually pulled myself together and figured out the fish was completely harmless. I then took off in pursuit of it. After sprinting after it for several minutes I finally caught up to it and swam alongside of it for what felt like hours, probably a minute or so. Then, it hit me...I had just swallowed an inhumane amount of salt water and was completely wiped from chasing the fish. My bravado in being one of the non-pukers caught up to me. All of a sudden, I just lost my cookies and puked in the ocean. I had officially left my mark (and my breakfast) on the Great Barrier Reef. And that friends, was my final hurrah on the Reef. The Wrasse had disappeared back to the depths of the ocean and it was time for me to swim back to the boat. Epic, right?

Anyway, the conclusion of this story is that I continue to leave my breakfast in the GBR for the rest of the 3 hour trip back to Cairns. Seasickness is no joke, folks. Lesson learned, don’t eat a giant breakfast, swallow a ton of salt water and then ride on rough water for three hours. Was it worth it? YYYYYEEEESSSSSSS! In fact, I couldn’t ask for a more hilarious and epic final hours on the Reef. This will probably go down as one of the best experiences of my life. It was also one of the best moments ever to stand on solid ground, take a shower in my hostel, take some anti-nausea medicine and sleep!

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relenaforpresident · 6 years

Text

One Night Only

This was my first attempt at a true blue 3xR. It’s posted over on fanfiction.net and now AO3. Hope you enjoy! I can’t get enough of this pairing lately, so expect much more to come...

Relena shivered as the fog around her mind gradually lifted, and her body stirred from her sleep. The smell of coffee immediately assaulted her senses, and she couldn’t help but smile as she breathed it in, with a yawn and stretch. She realized immediately that she felt sore, her throat was dry and scratchy, and her head had that floaty, swimmy feeling that suggested she had imbibed -- perhaps a little too much -- alcohol the night before.

Ah. So it had been one of those nights.

Still wrestling with sleepiness, Relena pulled her blanket more tightly around her, only to realize that it wasn’t her blanket. She fingered the unfamiliar fabric. Was that… flannel? She frowned and reached down to feel what she wore beneath the blanket and realized with a start that it, too, felt foreign. Why, it felt as if she were wearing nothing more than a t-shirt, which was something she never wore, and…

Relena’s hand drifted down further, and she gasped.

Nope. That was all she was wearing.

Relena bolted upright, fully awake, her eyes hurriedly taking in her surroundings. Where was she? Was she hurt? Was that why she felt so sore? Had she been drugged?

Her light eyes needed a moment to adjust to the bright light streaming in from the single window in the small, cramped room she found herself in. Which, aside from the cot she was on, contained only a large trunk and a wooden desk with a mirror perched on top -- it was much too sparse and masculine to be called a vanity.

And that’s where a dark-haired male currently sat, huddled over a coffee maker. Relena frowned in the man’s direction, her hazy mind gradually recapturing the events of the night before.

“Good morning.” His even baritone wrested her from her frantic thoughts.

Relena watched as Trowa turned in his seat and smiled at her, his face partially obscured by his long, auburn bangs.

Trowa?! Her mind screamed at her, racing to remember the events of the previous night...

She’d first seen the poster for the Traveling Colony Circus in downtown Brussels a few days ago. The colorful, cheerful design had caught her eye, but as the work week wore on, she’d all but forgotten about it.

But then she’d left work that night, plagued with anxious thoughts of going home, alone. Again. It had been three months since the breakup, and at that point, Relena felt as if she had cried all of the tears she had to give. And even though she was mentally and emotionally exhausted, as she stood outside of her office building, gazing up at the twinkling lights of the city at night, she remembered the flyer and had to wonder… was this the same circus she thought it might be?

Would he be there?

Not an hour later, she found herself standing in line to buy a single ticket, reminding herself that she was only there to see a friend. An old friend, yes, but a friend nevertheless.

Besides, she thought as she took a seat, all alone, in the stands. There was never anything between me and Trowa.

Or so she thought.

But then… she’d watched him perform, mesmerized by his gravity-defying stunts and perfectly choreographed routines. Not to mention those finely-tuned acrobatic muscles.

There was a new, strange fluttering in her heart that refused to die down during the entire show. Trowa didn’t even need to stand in the spotlight; Relena could focus on nothing and no one else.

At one point during the performance, she was certain that he saw her. His one eye that was visible, unmasked, seemed to find her in the midst of the crowd, and focus solely on her. Relena realized she could have been imagining things. Even still, when he looked in her mere direction, it was as if lightning struck her on the spot.

Calm down, Relena, she chided herself. Even if she did go to find him after the show -- Because how could she not? They were friends. Sort of -- she knew she needed to remain aloof. Cool. Casual.

“Oh, hey, Trowa… Long time, no see.” Something like that. No big deal.

But then the show ended, the lights went down, and the people around her started leaving their seats and filing out of the tent. Relena felt panic squeeze her chest -- what if she couldn’t find Trowa after the show, and she came out all that way for nothing?

Wait -- why did she care?

She found him standing casually outside of the big top, leaning against a wooden post and chatting cordially with a group of young women who had him surrounded. They were all rather pretty, Relena realized in annoyance, and giggling as they practically toppled over one another to get close to the acrobat. Relena was about to keep walking by and pretend she didn’t see him, when she heard his voice.

“Relena!”

She turned to see him jogging up to her. Without another word, he smiled and pulled her into a hug, as if he, too, was grateful to have found a long lost friend.

But really, Relena wondered as they embraced… Who were they kidding? In all the time she’d known Trowa, they’d exchanged maybe a handful of sentences. Mostly about Heero.

She noted, as Trowa invited her back to his trailer for a drink, so they could “catch up,” that he didn’t ask her about Heero now.

But, then, he must have already known…

Scenes from the rest of their night together collided in Relena’s mind as Trowa leaned forward and handed her a tin camper’s mug. The trailer was small enough that he didn’t have to stand up to reach her. Relena took the mug from him, but it was hotter than she expected.

“Ouch!” she cried as she continued to grasp the mug, despite the heat. She didn’t want to drop it and make matters any worse.

“Sorry.” Trowa snatched it back from her and returned it seconds later, this time with a handkerchief folded around it. Relena couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why, how fancy.” She lifted the mug toward him in a mock toast before taking a cautious sip of the warm, dark brew.

“Only the best for you...” Trowa’s voice trailed off, and gave her an easy smile. Relena flushed under his steady gaze. His green eyes seemed to convey more emotion than she thought the stoic acrobat was capable of revealing. He almost looked as if he was about to confess his undying love for her, which would have made the situation even more awkward. Relena tried to hide her deepening blush behind her coffee cup as she cast about for something to talk about. Anything.

“How did you sleep?” she asked him before taking another sip of coffee, willing her brain awake.

“I just asked you the same thing,” Trowa said with a knowing smile.

“Oh. Right.” Relena’s flush darkened as she realized she hadn’t been listening. “Sorry; my mind is all over the place…”

“I take that to mean you didn’t sleep well.” Trowa leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing him closer to where Relena sat. “I’m sorry,” he added, frowning. “That cot is a steep downgrade from your bed, I bet.” He said it in a way that suggested he was very much hoping to find out. Relena cheeks burned even more at the thought. But she managed to maintain her composure.

“It’s fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I slept pretty solidly, actually.”

Trowa shook his head, chuckling. “You don’t have to put on airs with me, Relena. I know it’s terrible; I sleep here every night, pretty much.”

“Where did you sleep last night, then?” There was no way the two of them would have fit on the thing, side by side; that much was obvious. She had to wonder if he’d just curled up on the floor.

“I didn’t.” Trowa paused and stretched in his seat. “I caught up on some research.”

Relena’s heart fluttered. He had given up his bed for her. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, clutching his coffee mug more tightly.

“It’s all right; I’m no stranger to all-nighters.” Trowa shrugged. “Besides, I had a lot of work to do.”

Relena wanted to ask him what kind of work, but she knew that as a part-time Preventer, whatever it was he was researching was probably too sensitive to discuss. Given her own vocation, she could appreciate that. She decided to focus on his other job.

“Don’t you have shows today?” Relena pointed out, frowning at him. “You should be well-rested.”

Trowa just chuckled again. “I can do those routines in my sleep. And anyway, I can always just grab a nap later.” He reached over and patted the cot. “This thing’s good for that, at least.”

Relena sighed before taking another sip of coffee. “As much as I appreciate the act of chivalry, you should have at least tried to sleep.”

“Believe me, I would have loved to have spooned with you all night.” Trowa smiled, tipping his head toward his laptop. “But I really did have work to do. And anyway, you would have woken up even more cramped and uncomfortable than you already are.” He reached up and squeezed her shoulder. “Happy to give you a back rub, if it would help.” His eyes glittered at her in the morning light.

Relena blinked at him from behind her cup, trying again to control the flush that crept up her neck. “I…” She cleared her throat and used that as an excuse to drink more coffee. Trowa’s eyes seemed to laugh at her. “You’re enjoying this too much,” she murmured.

Trowa’s chest rumbled as he laughed more deeply. “Oh, I could be enjoying myself a lot more. Believe me.”

“Easy there.” She let out a nervous laugh. “It’s probably best if we keep our clothes on, for now.” She gave Trowa a pointed look. He shrugged easily.

“If you insist.” He swiveled in his seat and turned his attention to his laptop. Relena gaped at his back.

“Wow, so I say no to sex and you instantly turn your back on me? Is that how it’s going to be?”

Trowa chuckled from his seat.

“No, this is me trying not to annoy you. I got the sense I was starting to get on your nerves.” He turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder. “I know how much you value your alone time. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Right, like I can do that in a two by four trailer, or whatever this is…” Relena muttered.

“It’s ninety square feet,” Trowa said flatly. “You could turn cartwheels in here.” Relena wasn’t sure whether he was being serious or sarcastic.

“Hmm, tempting, but no, thank you.” Relena pulled back the blanket and rose to her feet, tugging down her t-shirt -- or rather, his shirt -- as she looked around for her handbag. She found it to the side of the cot, picked it up and placed it on top, then started rummaging through its contents. After such an uncharacteristically wild night -- at least for her -- she was dying to freshen up. “Mind if I use your shower?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Not at all.” Trowa stood and opened a slim door to the right of his desk. “Right this way.”

Relena peered inside what was, for all intents and purposes, a cupboard containing the type of toilet and sink that would fit inside an airplane’s restroom. And across from those commodities, wedged into the opposite wall, was an actual metal bucket, with a shower head affixed to the wall. Relena gawked up at Trowa.

“Um… wow.”

He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and flashed a grin at her. “You’re wondering how I can stand to live in such squalor.”

“No...” Relena’s eyes scanned the tiny space, then darted back to Trowa and his tall, muscular form. “I’m wondering how you fit…”

“Want me to show you?” he offered, smiling down at her. Relena’s face colored at the idea of squeezing into such a tight space with Trowa. Naked. Now, that would be quite…

“No, that’s quite all right,” Relena all but shrieked. “But if you wouldn’t mind telling me how to work these things…” She gestured at the facilities.

“Right.” Trowa cleared his throat. “Well, the toilet is compostable, but it flushes normally; you might just have to press down a little more than you’re probably used to, with your automated everything.” His eyes twinkled at her. “The shower lever is right here.” He leaned over to the makeshift shower and twisted the lever to demonstrate. “Left for hot, right for cold. Pretty standard.”

“Okay.” Relena tried not to pull a face as she stepped around Trowa and into the tiny restroom, hoping he wouldn’t think her a total snob. She glanced around the small space and realized she’d forgotten something. “Towels?”

Trowa reached up to open an overhead cabinet and pulled down a large green towel. “Here you go.” Relena thanked him and ducked back into the bathroom. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he added with all the debonair charm of a concierge. Then he chuckled, and it was clear that, again, he was teasing her.

“Sure,” Relena said with a curt nod. “Thanks.” Before Trowa could ooze out another drop of charm, she shut the door and surveyed her new, compact surroundings.

“Well…” she muttered to herself as she approached the toilet warily. “This is going to be interesting…”

Relena managed to complete a somewhat usual morning routine, and found the shower was rather decent, despite the cramped space. Luckily she wasn’t claustrophobic. After she’d scrubbed herself using Trowa’s woodsy-smelling body wash, she dried off with his green towel and nearly had a laugh at herself.

It’s like he lives in a forest, which she thought seemed quite appropriate for the famed lion tamer. He is one with nature…

She stifled her giggles as she exited the bathroom, keeping the towel wrapped tightly around her. She padded past Trowa, where he sat at his makeshift desk, clacking away at his keyboard, back over to the cot where she’d left her sundress and undergarments from the night before. As she picked up her lingerie, she saw Trowa’s head swivel her way.

“Turn around, please.” Relena swirled her pointer finger in the air. Trowa arched a brow.

“You do realize I’ve seen everything…”

“That was different,” she said. “This is out of context. I’m not going to parade around naked for you.” He gaped at her for a second before letting out a hearty laugh.

“Fine. Whatever makes you comfortable.” Trowa obediently turned in his seat, and Relena dressed quickly. She knew she was probably being overly fussy, but then Trowa didn’t actually seem to mind giving her privacy. Despite their… encounter the night before, there was something very gentlemanly about Trowa’s behavior that Relena found reassuring.

She fished into her purse and retrieved her makeup bag, then turned back toward Trowa and his desk. “May I borrow your mirror?”

“Of course.” Trowa shifted from his chair to the cot, taking his laptop with him. Relena sidestepped him and sat down at the desk, grateful for his easygoing, accommodating manner. His typing provided the morning soundtrack as she quickly applied her powder foundation before adding a few swipes of mascara, finishing with a dab of tinted lip gloss. She was grateful she’d thought to tuck her makeup bag into her purse before leaving the house last night; she hadn’t planned on staying somewhere else, but then she did always like to be prepared. She only wished she’d had a spare pair of panties, but she’d have to wait and change as soon as she got home. At least, she thought wryly, she hadn’t been wearing last night’s pair for too long… The thought brought a fresh rush of heat to Relena’s cheeks.

She finished up at Trowa’s desk and tucked her makeup away, then got up to put everything back into her purse. Trowa glanced up from his laptop.

“You look beautiful,” he said without any preamble, as if he was stating the most obvious of facts. Relena laughed off the compliment.

“You don’t need to say that,” she said, tipping her head toward him. “But thank you.”

“Why wouldn’t I say it?” Trowa countered. “Can’t a man admire beauty when he sees it?”

Relena gave him a sharp look as she organized her belongings. “You’re too much. Really.”

Trowa’s eyes gleamed up at her before he lowered them to his screen. “Striking a nerve again, I see. I’d better keep quiet.”

“Yes, please.” Relena huffed dramatically, secretly enjoying their repartee. “You talk more than I do,” she teased. “And since when, anyway? I thought you were the strong, silent type.” Trowa let out a husky laugh.

“I guess you’ve opened me up.”

“Well, stick a cork in it.” She tilted her head to the side and looked at him expectantly, although an errant smile tugged at her lips.

Trowa snorted at what Relena knew was a rather rude suggestion -- or was she flirting? She had to wonder if there was even any point in flirting with him, now. They’d already gotten everything else over with…

Now, she just had to think of a way to exit Trowa’s trailer with her dignity intact.

“Anyway…” She dipped her head shyly before scooping to pick up her things. “It’s been…” She searched her mind for the right word. “Eventful.”

Trowa huffed out another laugh before rising to his seat. “Wow. Should I take that as a compliment? Or can you really not wait to get out of here?”

Relena blushed and dropped her eyes to the floor. “It’s not that. I just…” She looked up as soon as she felt Trowa’s finger under her chin. His eyes were kind, but questioning as they seemed to sift her.

“If you really want to go, I won’t keep you,” he murmured. “That said, I don’t want to give you the impression that I do this sort of thing often.”

“What? One night stands?” Relena tried to sound breezy, as if she did this sort of thing all the time. When, in fact, she didn’t. Actually, she never had.

But, there was a first time for everything. Right?

Trowa was smirking at her. “When I said ‘one night only,’ I was referring to my performance in the tent… not in here.” With that, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers in a slow, gentle kiss.

Relena tried to remain cool and collected, but her body instantly betrayed her. Her heart raced and her knees buckled. She allowed herself to lean into Trowa as his hands came up to steady her back, holding her firmly against him.

And Relena felt the same way she did last night, the moment their lips connected for the very first time -- and that little spark between them, that may have been there all along, ignited in full force. And then her whole body felt like it was charged with electricity.

The only problem was, she didn’t want it to stop.

But Relena needed it to stop; she needed to get a hold of herself, so she could take a breath and assess what had happened between them, and how she felt about it. And, ultimately, what she wanted to do about it. Even though Relena knew she liked Trowa -- of course she did -- she wanted to think things through with a clear head before jumping into something new.

And, tempting as it was in the moment, she wasn’t quite ready for a repeat performance.

After another heartstopping moment, Relena gently broke away from Trowa, giving a playful shove to his well-toned chest. She tried to laugh it off, but kept her eyes downcast, not wanting Trowa to see how conflicted she was. But Trowa was far more astute than she gave him credit for. He frowned and took a step back from her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his hands to his sides. “I’m not normally like this.”

“Like what?” Relena asked, arching a brow.

“Clingy.”

His candor made her laugh. “This is your idea of clingy? Kissing a girl you just spent the night with?”

Trowa shrugged. “If it’s a girl I can tell would rather not be bothered.”

Relena sighed and ran a hand over her bangs, parting them. “I really don’t mean to come off that way, Trowa. I’m… just in a weird place right now.” She shrugged her own shoulders and gave him a thin smile.

“I know. And I don’t want to make it any weirder for you.” Trowa gave her a look that suggested he understood far more than he’d let on. Relena wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

“You have nothing to worry about here,” he added. “I’m leaving Brussels tomorrow, anyway, and I travel for work all the time...”

“Me, too,” Relena said quickly.

“I know,” he replied.

Relena frowned. He was looking at her as if he could see right through her -- right down to the conflicting desires that tugged at her core; raw, naked emotion she wasn’t quite ready to bare.

But, then, she had already bared a lot.

Too much, maybe.

She tucked another stray lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers shaking along with her nerves. “I’m sorry… I’m just not looking for anything right now.”

“Neither am I,” Trowa said evenly.

Relena wasn’t sure how to respond to that, either. “All right. Well.” She gave a nervous laugh and spread her hands. “Still friends?”

“Of course.” Trowa fixed her with that self-assured smile of his -- on anyone else, it would look cocky -- and stuck out his hand. “Should we shake? Or would it be weird if I kissed you again?”

Relena sputtered a laugh. “This is definitely getting weird...”

“Right.” Trowa stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Then I’d better let you out of here before things start getting even weirder.” He motioned toward the trailer door.

“Right,” Relena echoed him. “I’d better get going, anyway.” She stepped around Trowa, careful not to bump into him and reignite all of that pesky electricity, all over again. If they were going to stay friends, one thing was certain… she was going to have to find a way to keep her hands to herself around him.

Which shouldn’t be that difficult. One would think.

Trowa opened the trailer door, and sunlight flooded the tiny space. Relena squinted out into the morning light and moved halfway outside, then turned back, realizing she needed her sunglasses. Which were in her purse, which she’d forgotten. But when she turned around, Trowa was already holding her bag and handing it to her.

“Here you go,” he said casually. Like that was that.

Relena gaped at him in disbelief that he could actually be that dismissive, after everything that had transpired. “So, that’s it then? We just walk away and act like none of this ever happened?”

Trowa gave a shrug. “If you want.”

She huffed in frustration, peering at him in the glaring sunlight. “What do you want?”

“I’m easy.” His smile was disarming. Damn him. “And I like this, because if feels easy,” he added. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but I would like to see you again, if you’re open to it.”

Relena’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that. He was so straightforward, it threw her for a new loop altogether.

“Well, I…”

“If you don’t mind…” Trowa disappeared back inside the trailer for a moment, emerging with his mobile in hand. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least get your number.”

He held the phone out to Relena. She looked down at it in his outstretched hand, dumbfounded, and hesitated just a beat too long. She glanced back up to Trowa’s face to see him frowning. He stuffed the phone in his back pocket.

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s too soon, huh?”

Relena turned her face to the side. “Trowa… I’m sorry,” she fumbled. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Relena looked back at Trowa to see that he was looking past her, into the field where several trailers similar to his were parked. In the near distance, the striped big top was a kaleidoscope of colors against the impossibly blue sky. The scene was so oversaturated, so unlike the monochromatic urban jungle where Relena spent most of her days. So unlike her.

She felt a stab of pain in her chest when she realized what she was doing. It was exactly what he had done to her.

“I’m sorry, Relena. I can’t stay… This isn’t me.”

Something broke inside of her. But this time, it wasn’t her heart.

Relena turned around and smiled up at Trowa.

“How about… we do this the old-fashioned way?” she said, peering up at him. He looked positively baffled, for once.

“Huh?”

She grinned and fished inside her purse for a pen and pad of paper, but realized too late she was out of paper. Which was just as well. She held a hand out to Trowa, palm facing up.

“Give me your hand, please.”

Trowa looked at her quizzically, but complied with her request. Relena uncapped her pen and proceeded to write her phone number across the back of his hand. She beamed at him when she finished and capped her pen.

“Voila,” she sang.

Trowa surveyed his new temporary tattoo, and gave her another disarming smile. “This was rather… unnecessary,” he teased. “There’s this thing nowadays, called technology…”

“Well.” Relena gave him a satisfied smirk. “Now you definitely won’t forget to call.”

Trowa arched a brow. “And you definitely want me to?”

Relena rolled her eyes playfully. “There you go, getting all clingy on me again, Barton.” Trowa barked out a laugh.

“All right, then, but fair is fair. Let me see your hand.”

Relena surrendered hers willingly, along with her pen. “Matching tattoos, already?” she gasped as soon as Trowa finished inking his number onto her skin. “Who are we, anyway?”

It was impossible to miss the fondness in Trowa’s eyes as he looked down at her, still holding her hand in his.

“You’re that crazy girl who flew a jet into the middle of a mobile suit battle, in fucking Antarctica,” he quipped.

Relena’s brows lifted. “Oh, you remember that?”

“I was there, remember?”

“Right.” Of course, Relena remembered, although she’d been a little preoccupied trying to track down that other Gundam pilot that day. And then learning that the mysterious man he was fighting happened to be her long lost brother…

Yeah. There’d been a lot going on then. But she did remember briefly meeting Trowa. And how… normal he seemed. Completely unflappable in such a bizarre situation. He was a sea of calm as battle raged around them. And Relena found herself in the middle of it all, in a civilian aircraft, of all things. Just the thought of it made her cringe at her brazen younger self. But Trowa had been completely nonplussed at the entire situation. Almost as if he accepted her, and her lofty idealism, right from the start. She had to wonder if he’d ever even doubted her before agreeing to take up her cause, and fight to protect her.

Relena flushed at the memory and the realization, but turned teasing eyes back up to Trowa. “So if I’m the crazy girl in the jet, who are you in this scenario? The crazy Gundam pilot who didn’t bother to try to stop me?”

Trowa grinned at her unabashedly. “I’m just some guy who thought you were hot.”

Her jaw dropped. “You did not. We didn’t even see each other.”

Trowa shrugged. “Didn’t have to. I heard your voice. I could tell. And then Heero was so flustered--” Trowa immediately cut himself off. Relena felt another stab of pain in her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Trowa added, his eyes softening.

“That’s all right.” Relena waved his apology away with her hand. “Unfortunately it’s going to come up every now and then. Shared history and all.” She gave a small shrug. “Might as well get the awkward conversation over with.”

“Today hasn’t been awkward enough for you?” Trowa replied with a gleam in his eyes.

“I was going to say, it’s been fun,” Relena shot back. “But now you’ve gone and ruined it.” She gave his chest a poke. It was hard. Which made her flush all over again. Damn.

Trowa’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Who are you kidding? This has been awkward as hell.”

“Hey, thanks a lot!” Relena swatted playfully at him. “Now I’m going to be ruminating over this my whole drive home, agonizing over how awkward you thought I was…”

Trowa snatched her hand mid-air, and pulled it back to his chest. “Or,” he said with a lazy smile, “we could just have sex again.”

Relena flushed all the way to her hairline. “I’m… afraid we’re going to have to take a raincheck on that. I really do have to get going.”

“All right.” Trowa acquiesced, still holding her hand. “But just so you know, I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow.”

Relena brightened and panicked all at once. “Paris?”

“Yeah, that’s where we’re headed next.” Trowa nodded toward the big top. “You could join me, if you want. Unless you’re worried things might get… awkward.” His green eyes glittered at her.

She was dying inside, but she couldn’t let Trowa see that, and gain the upper hand. Or had he already? Relena was almost too flustered to think straight. But she couldn’t just throw caution to the wind and go to Paris… with Trowa.

Could she?

“I have work,” she said immediately, but Trowa was already rolling his eyes.

“You always have work,” he said.

Relena managed to wrest her hand away from him, and planted it at her hip. “Yes, well, it’s not the kind of job where I can just take off for a few days--”

“You mean like, most jobs?” Trowa arched a brow. “It’s called the weekend, Relena. You’re entitled to one.”

She was quickly losing this battle, and she knew it. But she had to reason with Trowa. Because this was just crazy talk.

“We hardly know each other,” she protested, although she knew as soon as she said it how wrong it was.

“I’d say we know each other pretty well,” Trowa countered. “And anyway,” he added, his face and body hovering closer to hers, “it’s not like I’m asking you to elope with me.” He cocked a brow.

Relena let out a huff of exasperation. “No, but it sounds like you’re asking me to to run away and join the circus.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Trowa splayed his hands. “It’s not a bad gig, actually. Perhaps you should tag along and see for yourself. I could get you in on the act… ever try juggling?” She could tell he was teasing her, yet again.

“Tempting,” Relena teased back. “But I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“On what, Paris? Or the sex?”

“Either,” she answered. “Both.”

Trowa feigned a heavy sigh. “Well, it was a nice thought, anyway. I guess we’ll always have Antarctica...”

Relena just laughed and shook her head. “A raincheck doesn’t mean ‘never,’ silly.”

“No, it’s more like ‘someday,’ which is just as bad,” Trowa retorted.

“You always have to hit the nail on the head, don’t you?”

Trowa gave a shrug. “I prefer to keep things straight and to the point, that’s all. Either you want me, or you don’t. Why waste one another’s time?”

Relena had to agree with him on that. Such clear-cut honesty was refreshing to hear, at this point. And after years of trying to make a relationship work with someone who kept her at arm’s length, and avoided honesty to spare her feelings… well. Relena felt as if she’d been wandering in a wasteland for years, and this conversation was like stumbling across a stream in the desert.

She smiled and tapped on the back of his hand, where her number was scrawled in her loopy handwriting, whorls of blue ink staining his slightly tanned skin.

“I’m not going to waste your time, Trowa.”

He frowned down at her. “But--”

“So you had better call me.” With that, Relena stepped onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Trowa’s lips. “And don’t keep me waiting too long,” she added as their lips parted.

“Only for the requisite three days,” Trowa replied with a smile, before he cupped Relena’s face in both of his hands and kissed her soundly. Relena leaned fully into the kiss, wanting to memorize the way his lips felt against hers. Of course, they had only had the one night, and this morning, but they had plenty of time to get to know each other. Relena had no reason to fear that this was, in fact, a one-time-only thing.

And yet he was leaving. And she was used to that. Being left.

She pulled back from the kiss, her arms looped around Trowa’s shoulders, and fixed him with a stern expression.

“Don’t break my heart while you’re off in Paris,” she said, deadly serious. Trowa lowered his hands to her waist, and grasped her tightly to him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, equally serious. “There or anywhere else.” He kissed the tip of her nose before pressing another to her lips.

“Good.” Relena felt her features relax against his touch. “Otherwise... I’d have to track you down with my jet.”

Trowa’s eyes sparked. “Now, that I would like to see…”

At length, they broke their embrace. Relena descended the trailer steps and made her way across the field as gracefully as she could, although her heels kept sinking into the ground. She swore she could feel Trowa’s eyes on her back for her entire trek to her car, no doubt laughing at the awkward way she was forced to walk. She didn’t even bother turning around to wave goodbye one last time, knowing she’d have to see that smug expression of his...

Once Relena made it to her car in one piece, she opened the driver’s side door and tossed her purse onto the passenger seat. No sooner had she sat and placed her key in the ignition than she caught a glimpse of her hand, and Trowa’s own, surprisingly neat script seemed to wink up at her.

She decided she’d better save his number in her phone before she started driving, just in case the ink got smeared before she got a chance. She pulled her phone from her purse and started punching in the number. And groaned when she saw what she was doing. She wasn’t entering it into her contacts… she was dialing.

“Miss me already?” Trowa answered before the phone even had a chance to ring. Which suggested he had already been on his as well. Relena couldn’t help but smile.

“No. But I forgot my underwear…” she teased. Trowa let out a husky laugh, and Relena instantly loved the sound of his voice over the phone.

“You don’t know how badly I wish that were true,” he said with a slight edge to his voice. It was almost a growl. “Did you… forget something else?”

“Yes,” Relena sighed. “You.”

There was silence for a beat, and all Relena could hear was the wild pounding of her own heart.

“Where are you?” Trowa asked gruffly.

“In the parking lot, still.”

“Changing your mind about Paris?” he asked. Relena could hear noises in the background as he moved around.

“No, I still can’t go. But you said you’re leaving tomorrow. So…” Relena paused, her heart continuing to hammer in her chest. “I was wondering. What are you doing today?”

“Blowing off work, apparently.” She heard more movement, and the sound of a door opening and closing, and wind rustling as Trowa walked across the field, toward her car. “And, surprisingly,” he added, “so are you.”

“Yeah, well someone told me I ought to take some time off every now and then,” Relena said. “I figure one day can’t hurt…”

“Then one day it is.” This time Trowa’s voice was much closer. Relena looked up to see him standing at her driver’s side door. “But, eventually,” he added, hanging up the call and pocketing his phone as he spoke, “I’m going to want more than one.” His lips spread into a smile. “You know. Someday.”

Relena returned his smile. “I’d like that, too… Someday.”

“I’ll take it,” said Trowa. He leaned through the open car window and bent down toward Relena where she sat, and she tilted her face up to his to make it easier for him to reach her. And then and there, she knew it was useless… She could no longer deny the fire that sparked the instant their lips connected.

It was about as obvious as a jet in Antarctica.

The end.

#gundam wing #gundam wing fanfiction #gundam wing fanfic #3xR #trowa x relena #trowa and relena #relena and trowa #relena x trowa

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banditywrites · 7 years

Text

A Sky of Stars

Created for Voltron Whump Week

Prompt: Day 8- FREE day (Intoxicated)

Summary: Lance was having a good night. Then the next thing he knows, he’s lost in the woods, slightly intoxicated and bleeding.

Notes: So humorous whump? Kind of. This one definitely has a much lighter tone. I think I needed the change in tone after a week of all the damage I did to the team. Anyway, prompt came from a friend. Sorry, I don’t think I did it justice. Warnings for so much vomiting, underage drinking, intoxication, blood and injury.

A Sky of Stars

It was a celebration. The first one they'd had in a while. They had successfully freed a planet from the Galra and the team had been invited to take part in the party. The food was amazing. The inhabitants were incredibly friendly and, according to Lance, the ladies were absolutely beautiful.

The people of this planet were known as the Dorveen. Their skin was a gentle brown and the hair on their heads was a shining silver. They were very tall and thin, much like the trees that completely covered this world.

The celebration was in the huge lodge that sat at the edge of the main city. Everyone seemed to be there and it was absolutely packed.

The party had been going on for some time and they were all socializing easily. Well, most of them were. Refreshments were being passed around and Pidge and Keith both took a glass of a peach colored drink when it was offered to them. They were both standing at the edge of a group talking, trying to politely excuse themselves. Pidge wanted to get back to the castle and work on a few projects and Keith was done with social interaction for the day.

They seemed to both become aware of each other's goals and were trying to make their escape at the same time. Someone was asking Pidge something and she nodded, bringing the glass to her lips.

There was a familiar metal hand shoved into her face, pushing the glass away from her mouth.

"Shiro!" Pidge was startled and she nearly dropped the glass. She stopped herself from swearing as she had been told, on more than one occasion, that it was unbecoming of a paladin of Voltron to cuss at social functions.

"That's alcohol." Shiro said, taking the glass from her.

"They gave it to me."

Shiro leaned over and took Keith's glass as well. Keith didn't actually care.

"I know they gave it to you, but you're not drinking this."

"I think I'm old enough to drink on this planet."

"Not this. I took one sip and I could already feel it. I'm not drinking it either."

Pidge frowned.

"I talked to Coran. He agreed; none of us should drink it. It's not made for humans."

"What about Keith? He could try."

"I don't want it." Keith was wondering if he could make his escape now.

Pidge wasn't actually interested in drinking it; she just thought her argument had a point. They could save the universe and risk their lives, but they couldn't drink alcohol?

Hunk appeared at Keith's shoulder.

"Has anyone seen Lance?"

They all fell silent and looked around the room.

"He was talking to a group of girls over there a while ago." Pidge stood up on her tiptoes to try to get a better view of the spot where she had last seen Lance, but Lance wasn't there. "Maybe he went off with one of the girls?"

"He'd better not have." Shiro had that warning tone that he used when he was scolding them for something.

"He wouldn't separate away from us," Hunk assured them. "He knows not to go far."

Shiro sighed. He was hoping Lance was just out of sight, but his gut twisted, telling him that something wasn't right.

"Okay, Hunk and I will go look for him. Pidge, Keith, can you stay here in case he comes back?"

Pidge and Keith both looked mildly horrified at the idea of more forced socializing.

"Okay, sorry. Let me tell Coran, we'll all go look for him together."

0-0-0-0

Lance had been having a good time. He was hanging with a group of lovely ladies, telling them stories of his legendary defending and, also, talking about skin and hair care, because the Dorveen had the most beautiful smooth skin and shiniest hair he had ever seen.

They were just telling him about the tree oils they use on their hair when one of the servers handed him a drink. He gulped it without thinking, because all the talking had made him thirsty. It burned all the way down and he choked.

The group went silent as he coughed.

"Sorry, sorry. Went down the wrong tube." Lance thumped his chest, though he couldn't feel it through the armor. Sometimes Lance wished he could just wear regular clothes to these things. They wore the armor so that they could all look presentable. The people expected the Voltron paladins and apparently the paladins of Voltron looked sloppy in jeans and hoodies. At least that's what Allura seemed to imply.

He continued on the conversation with the ladies and he took teeny, tiny sips because it was the polite thing to do. They were just starting to talk about the upkeep of fingernails when Lance felt his stomach do a flip. He ignored it.

Another flip and whoa suddenly his vision looked a bit blurry and the number of ladies he was talking to doubled. There was a pain in his head and the contents of his stomach rose up his esophagus.

Uh-oh.

"Excuse me," he managed to choke out before he ran for the exit.

He tossed his drink glass into a bush once he was outside and made for the tree line. Once he was mostly hidden behind one of the beautiful trees, he vomited all over its trunk and roots.

He tried not to be loud about it, but with the way his head pounded all he could hear was blood rushing to his ears as he bent over and hurled everything that he'd eaten that day... week... lifetime.

It was a lot.

He was gasping for air, desperately trying to stay upright by leaning on the trunk.

"Sorry," he muttered while looking at the mess he had made of this tree. His head felt like it was about to float off somewhere. The ground beneath seemed to be shaking beneath his feet. Like it was the slowest moving earthquake in the universe. Like it was made of pudding.

Lance retched at the thought of pudding.

He groaned and wiped at his mouth. He couldn't go back to the party sick like this. He was all sweaty and gross. He needed to go back to the castleship and lie down for the next few days.

Which way did they park the castle? Lance let out a quiet laugh that hurt his throat. Park the castle.

"’s sounds funny." Lance mumbled to himself. After a few more deep breaths, Lance stumbled into the dark, knowing the ship wasn't far.

0-0-0-0-0

He was walking through the trees for a long time. For nights and nights. There was no sign of the ship. Maybe it was the other way. Lance turned in the dark and walked to his right. Yes, this felt better. Going downhill was good.

So he walked and walked and honestly he was really uncomfortable. He was all sweaty and his face felt too hot. Maybe it was more left after all. His armor was making him too warm and it was heavy, making him stumble all over the place.

The gauntlets came off first and then the rest of it. He was down to his undersuit and his chest piece, because he needed some of the light to see of course.

He tossed his boots to the side and walked on without them. I don't need shoes. The ground is pudding.

He was on the ground and spitting out grass before he realized what had happened. He had tripped. His leg was stuck.

Lance tried to move, but a sharp agony shot up his leg.

Gasping he did his best to curl up, look at his feet, find out what happened.

He had just enough light to see the metal teeth and the chain that was attached to the contraption.

An alien... bear trap?

Now that he saw it, he became aware of the pain of the teeth digging into his calf. His head still felt a bit floaty, but he was aware enough to know that this was bad. There had to be a way to release it. There had to be...

His fingers scrabbled to pull the teeth apart, but they were clenched tight. If his stomach stopped flipping around, maybe he could think of a way to free himself instead of having to concentrate on not throwing up. His fingers slipped over the metal and he didn't need the light to know it was blood.

Lance turned his head and heaved.

Okay, okay, okay. Don't panic. Can you get the chain out of the ground? Lance tugged at the links.

Nope. That jerked his foot around and just sent waves of pain through his body. Maybe he would pass out and he could rest and get away from the pain? Wait, that sounded like dying.

He couldn't die out here. It was so stupid. If anything he might lose his foot.

Real fear and loneliness overtook his mind.

"Guys?" He called weakly. "I'm somewhere where I'm not supposed to be." Lance swallowed. Lost. He was lost.

"Hunk? Shiro?"

There was no response. Breathing erratically, Lance lay down on his back and watched the stars through the trees. They were so bright and clear here. They all sort of swirled around each other too, creating a kaleidoscope effect. It was dizzying.

"Guys?" He called softly. "It's really cold now."

He blinked, maybe everything was looking a little less blurry, but he was pretty sure he was going into shock.

They weren't going to find him. He was going to be stuck out here forever because he couldn't get the chain off....

Wait.

His bayard could shoot through the metal.

Lance's bayard quickly materialized in his hand and formed into his gun.

Alright, so just aim... Don't shoot off your foot...

Lance pulled the trigger and the shot went wide, hitting the stupid, pudding ground. Lance grit his teeth and tried again. He heard the metal break, felt the way it jerked his leg. He cried out. He couldn't help it. Lance grit his teeth and tried to blink away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

He needed to concentrate. He was free from the chain, so technically he could drag himself back the way he came.

The way he came...

Lance looked around. From down on the ground, all the trees looked the same. Which way?

His head hurt. It was like someone was drilling a hole into the side of his skull and it made him feel so sick. He pulled himself backwards, trying to move in the right direction. But his leg caught on the ground and he was in agony again. He was really crying now. In irritation he flung himself backward onto the ground and threw one arm over his face. He sobbed loudly, not caring if that's how his friends found him, covered in tears and snot and vomit, at least they would find him and they could take him away from this horrible forest.

How were they going to find him? He was in the middle of nowhere and...

"Lance?"

Keith! He had never been so happy to see that mullet in his life!

Lance was crying too hard to vocalize a proper response so he held out both his arms and waved them in the air.

"'m h-he-here," Lance shuddered hard. He was going numb from the cold.

"What are you doing on the ground? We've been looking for- Shit."

Keith must have seen his leg.

"Shiro! Shiro, he's here! He's hurt! Shiro!"

Lance could hear the sound of more people running through the forest and soon there were hands on him.

"Lance, what happened? What the hell is that?" Shiro was there, holding his face, checking his pulse in his neck and then very carefully looking at the trap buried into Lance's limb.

"You found me," Lance was so relieved, maybe he could rest a little now.

"Of course we did." Shiro stood up and waved his arm, it lit up the darkness for a moment. "Hunk! Hunk over here!" Shiro called.

"Yeah, we found you. You shot your bayard off and you left us a trail," Keith sounded like he thought Lance was an idiot.

"Trail?" Lance asked.

"A trail of your armor. Why did you take it off?"

"Got hot. And the pudding ground was nice at first." Lance started crying again, but he stopped when he began gagging. Keith quickly knelt down and turned his head so that he wouldn't choke.

"Is he drunk?" Keith asked as Lance threw up again.

"He's something. Lance, do you know how much you drank?"

Lance was shaking his head before he threw up again. Keith awkwardly patted his shoulder.

Hunk appeared, out of breath and panicking.

“Where’s Pidge?” Shiro asked.

“She went around the other side. Whoa, his leg!”

"Okay, Hunk, listen. There is a lever that I'm pretty sure will release the trap from his foot, once I open it, Keith is going to lift his leg out, alright? And you're going to just sit by him to try to keep him from moving."

"Alright, it's just, how deep do you think it is? What if his leg just like falls off and oh my-"

"Breathe, Hunk. It's not going to fall off. It didn't cut through."

Lance whimpered in the background.

"I need you to hold him down, okay? It will be fast." Shiro turned towards Keith and nodded at him. "You got it?"

Keith nodded grimly. He understood the plan. Shiro waited for Hunk to settle down beside his friend and put an arm over his chest before continuing.

"Alright, just hold him. On the count of three," Shiro reached down for the lever. "One... Two..." Shiro pulled the lever down and Keith pulled Lance's leg out of harm’s way. The trap snapped shut before Lance was done screaming.

"You said three," Lance gasped out.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's better if you don't tense up. I'm sorry, Lance."

Shiro was inspecting Lance’s leg. He didn’t have anything to bind it…

“Here.” Hunk had slipped off his headband and held it out to Shiro. “It’s all I’ve got.”

Shiro nodded and wrapped the cloth around Lance’s leg. That would have to be good enough for now.

"Keith, go run and tell Coran to meet us at the infirmary. Find Pidge and tell her that we found him. Watch your step.”

Keith nodded and ran off quickly into the dark. Shiro moved to Lance’s shoulder and wiped the sweat from the boy’s brow.

“You did well. You're going to be okay. We'll get you fixed up."

"The ship far?" Lance forced out. He was trying so hard to keep it all together.

"Lance," Shiro almost sounded amused. "You've been walking in a big circle around us. The lodge is about 150 feet that way. You can see the lights through the trees if you look. We're going to get you help fast." Shiro was gently scooping Lance into his arms and the boy hissed as his leg was jostled.

"Sorry, sorry. You're alright. It's going to be alright," Shiro soothed.

Hunk appeared at Shiro's side.

"I think I got all his armor," Hunk sounded breathless again.

"Alright, let's go. Watch your step."

Shiro took off at a sprint and Lance did his best not to cry out at being jostled. Lance let his head roll back on Shiro's shoulder and he watched the stars blur together above their heads.

He dimly thought that they looked beautiful. Then, everything gently faded away.

0-0-0-0-0

When Lance woke up from the pod, his whole team greeted him enthusiastically. Though there were some playful jibes about the ground being made out of pudding. Lance didn't even remember saying it now; he didn't remember a lot of it actually. Shiro was actually relieved.

"It might be better to just not remember most of it," Shiro remarked. Shiro then hugged him and ruffled his hair. Lance beamed at the affection. "New rule," Shiro announced. "Don’t just drink anything that anyone hands you at a party, alright? Check with me first."

Lance nodded. There wasn't going to be any argument from him. He then smiled at how much Shiro sounded like a concerned parent.

"Sorry I worried you," Lance said sincerely. Shiro nodded.

"Be more careful next time."

"I will," Lance promised.

As they dragged him away to eat a decent meal, Lance thought he was lucky. He was lucky to be safe and lucky to be part of this team that had become so much like a family to him.

The end.

#I'm going to rest now #Voltronwhumpweek #voltronwhumpweek2017 #langst #tw: vomit #tw:blood #hurt/comfort

179 notes · View notes

300418 · 6 years

Text

now you finally made it to the end of all of this! and this is also where you can click on #cool-music but before you do that i had the thought to just, kinda explain why exactly these specific songs, and stuff? OH, and also a background story of that layout which also explains why i'll be sending this to you so late in the day T___T but okay, basically:

at first i was going to upload the playlists on spotify and hide them somewhere in the layout but then yesterday i figured i should find out (in a subtle way) if you even use spotify, nevermind have spotify premium. hence why i brought it up last night like “i forget some ppl don’t have spotify premium” OR WHATEVER I SAID I CAN HARDLY REMEMBER BC I WAS HALF ASLEEP. then you said you had apple music so i was >:0 so i was like. ok. change of plans. instead of linking to spotify i can mimic a spotify playlist?! so i messed around with some codes and TA-DA! but then i got carried away with the colors so now it doesn’t even look like spotify anymore GNJSGNS. LIKE AT FIRST IT WAS GREEN/BLACK LIKE THE OG SPOTIFY COLORS, but then i was like *kanyeshrug* and went nuts, so yeah.. ok anyways, as for the playlists themselvs:

OO1 | groovy??

OH HONESTLY, these are all songs i’ve been listening the f*ck out of lately and they all just, remind me of you in one way or another. hyukoh’s mer especially is just this rly floaty and dreamy song which is the type of stuff i Love but then reading the lyrics.. i Felt that. you know? just, yeah.. god i’m bad at this I SHOULD’VE JUST SENT THE PLAYLISTS AND KEPT MY MOUTH SHUT! SHOULD’VE JUST SAT THERE AND ATE MY FOOD! i’m so bad with words but Basically these are all songs i dedicate to you wholeheartedly. same goes for the 2nd part of the playlist. all of these genres kind of.. don’t really match eachother but there’s still something that makes me think “yeah, this makes sense” when putting them together. probably because they’re all about you, (i mean, in my head. unless u have an affair with giriboy i didn’t know about in that case ill have to literally murder giriboy).

MER: “We met, followed the map. Looked for the gold. I long for you.”

지켜줄게: you know the general song concept behind this is about a girl that sells her body and the guy is basically singing he’ll get her out of there etc, which is obviously not relevant to anything NGJSNG (me, inwardly: why did i include this song again im a fucking clown) BUT DSGNJS i included it because, just the whole sentiment i’ll always be there to take care of you and protect you however i can, no matter what. “I’ll take care of you when no one is around. I’ll always be with you when no one is around.“ (i think including a lyric here for each song rly pushes this to the Epitome of cheese)

Gondry: this song is basically us when we’re snuggled together.. “Laying down and legs crossed. Let's just stay like this, like in a warm blanket.”

Pluhmm: i really love this song so much and not only bc its yeeun but mainly because it just feels like this was written about us and it makes me super sappy.. “The first thing you do when you get up is to respond to the text that came after you fell asleep.”

확신을 줘: hey i love phantom [phantom voice] this is my confession. GNJSDNJ i dislike when they say “pretty young thing” tho but that’s classic korean rap they’re all fuckboys BUT! i wanted to include this cause it’s fun, playful and bright just like you, so. yes. :P “Do me a favour. Could you be mine?”

OO2 | at first witchy 🧙..then romantic

HEY I’M SUCH AN IDIOT. so at first i kind of wanted the concept of this part to be “older” music like the first track, and keep it within that theme but (again) i lost control. i was also kinda worried if that type of music isn’t your thing so hence why i call this MASTERPIECE “at first witchy..then romantic” bc fleetwoodmac/stevie nicks = witchy.. then the playlist gets cheesy? Haha 500IQ honestly. ANYWAYS.

Sara: so this is honestly one of my all time favorite songs and it has always kind of had a special place in my heart just like anything fleetwood mac does, but when i met you and fell for you the song got a whole new meaning for me and got all the more special. so i just had to include it. “Wait a minute, baby. Stay with me awhile. Said you'd give me light, but you never told me about the fire.”

Hiding Tonight: i don’t know if this is the exact and Real meaning behind the song but i always interpreted it as wanting to be stronger and better for someone, so that’s why that’s here. because even though you sometimes say you don’t deserve me (which is FAKE), i want you to know that it’s me who is encouraged by you to be a better person and to work harder. i’m the one that’s trying to live up to YOU, pwease don’t ever think little of yourself okay.. “And win a prize even if it's rigged, I won't know when to stop. And you can leave off my lid and I won't even lose my fizz.“

Loving Is Easy: i feel like the lyrics for this one are rly self explanatory.. YOU GOT ME FUCKED UP... “Yeah, loving is easy when everything's perfect. Please don't change a single little thing for me.”

My Kind of Woman: fun fact; i’d absolutely fist fight mac demarco if i caught him in the streets idk why i just would. that aside he makes the perfect sappy songs that i can dedicate to you so he can stick around even tho he’s on thin fucking ice. “You're making my crazy, really driving me mad. That's all right with me, it's really no fuss. As long as you're next to me, just the two of us.”

I Know You Know I Love You: at least, i Hope you do.. i only tell you every 5 seconds ;P “You know that I love you and that ain't gonna change. And though you're not here with me now, my love for you stays the same.”

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mredwinsmith · 7 years

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Universe Point After Afterword: Part 1

When I initially sat down to write Universe Point, I envisioned the final chapter being about the events surrounding the first time I stepped onto the fields at nationals after twenty odd years of playing this crazy sport. But as I reached the final stages, I realized that the book wasn’t actually about me. It was about ultimate itself and whether or not I actually got to play at nationals was weirdly irrelevant. (Thus pushing aside my ego for what I believe was the first time ever) But after experiencing nationals (grandmasters) for the first time, I felt compelled to write that final chapter anyway because it was such an amazing experience. Skyd has graciously given me a space to share that chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Universe Point – After Afterword

Sometime in the spring of 2011, (around the time I started writing my book) I received a message from my old friend Black Tide Matt. It basically went like this:

“Hey Cramer, are you 40 yet?”

“Uh….I’m only 34.”

“Damn it. I was hoping you were old enough for grandmasters.”

Fast forward to 2012.

“Hey Cramer, are you 40 this year?”

“I’m 35.”

“Damn it.”

And 2013.

“Hey Cramer are you….”

“I’m 36. I actually crunched the numbers and I’ve found that so far I’m aging at damn near the same rate as other humans,” I responded. “If that pattern holds, it puts me at a definite yes around 2017. I’ll let you know if anything changes though.”

He asked in 2014, 15 & 16 anyway just in case I’d made a radical discovery about the accuracy of my birth certificate until finally 2017 rolled around. This time he didn’t have to ask. I sent a preemptive strike on January 1st.

“Matt, I’m going to be 40 this year and yes I will play on your Grandmasters team if you still want me.”

When he said yes, I floated to the ceiling. His team, Endless Sunset, out of San Diego had made grandmasters nationals five years in a row and were pretty certain to do it again. Having been injured at my only chance to play at (college) nationals back in 2003, the mere thought of being on those fields revved me up for weeks even though the tournament was damn near eight months away. So I set out to do what all grandmasters players do in the months before a big tournament – try not to get hurt. Which at 40 can happen during any life event – doing squats, swinging kettlebells, going for a run, watching hockey, putting on pants, opening a drawer, reading stuff– you’re pretty much dodging grenades at every single moment.

To keep my ultimate skills game ready, I played in the Wednesday Night Pittsburgh Summer League on a fluorescent orange team that was either named Cutie Tang or Scorange or Not a Deer depending on the week. In our final game before I was set to fly to California for regionals, we were marching the disc downfield on universe point when I came across the back of the end zone wide open. A floaty backhand went up that allowed my defender, Pittsburgh Thunderbirds play-by play-man and long time ultimate stalwart Matt Weiss, to catch up. Somehow my age-depleted vertical allowed me to go over him to make a sweet catch along the sideline, picking it and stretching to get my toes down in bounds.

When I was five years old, my mom sent me to a gymnastics class where the instructor said, “You should stretch every day.” So I did. And I needed every bit of those thirty-five years of flexibility training to ensure that bits of my knee didn’t end up in the bleachers when Weiss rocked me an inch before my cleats hit the grass.

With all of his weight still pressed down on my legs, Weiss extended his hand to me with panic in his eyes. “Oh shit, Cramer. Please tell me I didn’t just take you out on the last point before regionals.”

“Hold on,” I said, pulling my leg out from underneath him and flexing it. “Nope, I think….yeah, I’m good,” I said trying to hide my surprise.

“Oh thank god,” he responded, rolling off me and flopping to the grass.

It may have taken a minor miracle, but I was going to be healthy headed to….

The next day at work a concrete block I was smashing offered a lot less resistance than I anticipated. My sledgehammer crashed through it, ricocheted off a railroad tie and crushed my left hand against a fence post. I was headed to California with a broken middle finger. Life is an asshole.

So that Friday morning after a cross country flight to San Francisco, lunch with my ex-teammate Iron Mike, and a surprisingly cool drive through the mountains northeast of the Bay Area, I arrived in Sacramento to meet my new teammates at a super sick AirBnB with thousands of bedrooms, a refrigerator bigger than my kitchen, and an in-ground pool. It was the first sign that grandmasters was going to be a rather large departure from college and club. For the first time ever my teammates obviously had some cash to spend – since ya know, we’re all middle aged now and (supposed to) have careers and shit. This was not the “cram eight guys into a seedy Motel 6 in downtown Rochester” experience that I was used to. I slept in a real bed that I didn’t have to share with anyone else. Let me repeat. 2,000 miles from home – slept in a real bed – by myself – in my own room. What was I, playing at Wimbledon? It didn’t make sense.

Black Tide Matt and I realized that even though we’d chatted a bunch on social media, we hadn’t actually seen each other in going on fifteen years. It was an awesome reunion. He looked basically the same and though he told a lot less Black Tide stories during the weekend, I did arrive at the house to find them screening “I Bleed Black,” (the old UCSB documentary) on the flat screen in the livingroom.

“Ya know I used to play for…”

“We know, Matt. Some of us were your teammates.”

A couple other great dudes were staying with us at the house that weekend as well. Matt’s co-captain, Ryan, was as California as it gets – tall, wind-swept blonde hair that didn’t move, and this unassuming yet somehow vitally important to the economy kind of vibe. Bryan was a lanky west coast surfer with glasses, who from a distance could’ve passed for the kid who does the morning announcements at your local high school. Guillermo was another of our out of region guys, a speedy Argentinian soccer player from Memphis who at 40 looked like he could still be playing on Lionel Messi’s wing.

And then there was my old buddy Brody who’d founded the University of Pittsburgh’s college team back in the late 90’s. Many ultimate players would recognize him on sight from his trademark floppy hat and the bazooka-sized camera he lugs around taking pictures at most national tournaments. We’d played against each other a ton in summer league in our late teens and early 20’s, but had never been on the same team. So when Black Tide Matt asked if I knew any other top tier out of region players, I put the two of them in contact – excited at the possibility of sharing the field with him. Later on, it could easily be argued that it was my most valuable contribution to Endless Sunset.

Our games that day were at noon, 2:00, and 4:00, right in the heat of the day, a fact that loomed over us as we drove to the fields on an already broiling morning.

“What’s it saying?” I asked as Brody checked the weather on his phone.

“Ninety-five and sunny.”

“Ninety-five? Maybe uh…..they’ll be wrong.”

Turned out I was a prophet. The high reached 100.

So our warm up consisted of a bunch of guys who really wanted to play ultimate – just in Vancouver or Anchorage or somewhere that wasn’t Sacramento on that particular Saturday. Guillermo and I did our yoga and stretching routines in the skinny shadow of a light stanchion while other guys chugged water like it was beer and tried not to spontaneously combust. As we were called out to warm up, a lot of dudes suddenly remembered they still needed to put on sunscreen in the tent or go hit the pisser. It felt like the sun had crept up to where the moon hangs out. It was neck baking.

But I hadn’t flown in from Pittsburgh to sit in a tent, so I put on the kick ass blue, orange, and every other color known to man Endless Sunset jersey that I was borrowing for the weekend and ran on the field with our defensive line. Our first game was against what felt like a pickup team out of Los Angeles. They had a few good players but not a lot of numbers and we coasted to a 15-4 victory.

We huddled up before our next game against a team called Old Growth out of San Jose. “This is the game we need,” Black Tide Matt implored us. “If we’re a nationals caliber team, we thump these guys. It’s hot, but that’s no excuse. We know what to do, so let’s do it. Sunset on three. One, two, three…”

“Sunset!”

I came out as hot as the air temperature in that game. We were up 1-0 when I went in on defense. We forced a turn on the goal line and set a vertical stack. From the back I saw that our handler had overshot the guy he was aiming for. I bailed him out, racing over to catch it for the goal, my first with Endless Sunset.

Feeling great, (even with my broken finger) I stayed on. About halfway up the field, I forced a high swilly throw that we easily knocked down. As I jogged across the field to my outside cutter position, I was unexpectedly open and whoever picked it up shot a crossfield flick way out in front of me. I slid to catch it with a guy on my back, then popped up and floated a high release flick over a defender’s fingertips for our third goal. I only rested for a point before coming back in to catch the goal that put us up 5-1. At that point, I was obviously feeling pretty confident. I was playing solid D and on our first five points, I’d scored or assisted on three of them.

Then just before halftime came the point that almost sent me back across the country in a body bag. I was feeling awesome as I went out on D yet again. Old Growth worked it the whole way down the field before turning it just outside the end zone. I started to sprint deep and…..we turned it damn near immediately. I hauled ass back to cover my guy and…..they turfed the first pass. We worked it halfway up the field and overthrew a deep shot to the end zone. After four turns, the point was getting a little long for a bunch of old guys in the heat. I believe an automatic text went out to every EMT in greater Sacramento that they should be on alert for a pending mass casualty incident.

Old Growth brought it to the goal line and my guy cut in. I stuck with him and shut down the passing lane, then jumped inside for a hopeful poach before turning and following my guy deep down the middle. As I was chasing him, OG put up a long outside in flick down the sideline that I turned and hustled for, backing up my teammate, a skinny D hound named Dennis. He knocked it out of bounds, rendering my help completely needless so I turned and once again focused on offense.

In grandmasters at the age of 40, you’re actually considered young. And the problem with being young and comparatively big, fast, and athletic is you’re still expected to do big, fast, and athletic things. Unfortunately your body is no longer 19. It’s just not 49 yet. And what I found on that point is that there’s a huge difference between 19 and “not 49 yet.”

After the turn, I cut in and didn’t get the disc, so I released upfield. The guy guarding me was heaving breaths like a wounded gorilla. His hands briefly went to his hips, a sure sign I had him beat. At midfield I accelerated. Three quick steps and I was streaking past everyone up the sideline. The thrower saw me. It was going to be an easy…..

The only way I can describe what happened is that my legs just….shrunk. It was like in high school when the teacher handed out a test that was unnecessarily difficult and you pushed it aside and went, “Yeah, screw this.” That’s what my legs did. I saw it later on video. One second I’m a serious athlete sprinting down the sideline and the next I’m a cross between a scarecrow and a monster sewn together from random body parts. I didn’t lay out so much as collapse. The disc hit the ground an inch from my outstretched fingers. It was the last time I could reasonably say I felt “fine” that day.

Based on that debacle, a whole bunch of guys who I’d just met that morning began to give me running advice.

“So Cramer uh….you really need to work on your stride. That was the most awkward run I believe I’ve ever seen. We thought you pulled both hamstrings.”

“Nah, my stride is fine. I was just dead at the end of that point.”

“Yeah but your stride though. You’re like an old robot out there. Like a rusty one that’s been in a shed since the 50’s and needs lots of repairs.”

“Seriously though, my stride is ok,” I said. “There were five turnovers on that point. Five.”

“No offense. I’m not trying to be critical. You just need someone to show you how to run. Because it’s obvious you’ve never been taught proper technique.”

“I was a runner in college. I know how to…..it’s a hundred degrees and I ran up and down the…..” The argument wasn’t worth it. “Yeah, I’ll try to work on my stride.”

I played sparingly in the second half as we got past OG rather easily, 15-6. But though I guzzled more water than actually fell on California the year before, I still couldn’t catch up.

The two words that would describe my next game against Shadows (the top seed) out of San Francisco would be dizzy….and ineffective. I played four points, realized that I most likely had a minor case of heat stroke and then was told I should probably sit out the second half.

“We’re going to need you for tomorrow,” they told me, which was a really nice way of saying, “Dude, we’re going to let someone who isn’t sucking as hard play a little more. Cool?”

That night, our team and a bunch of the LA dudes got some beers and chilled in the pool. Black Tide Matt ordered enough pizza that the local Dominos thought it was a prank, and we all chilled watching the sun set over the palm trees talking of our ultimate origin stories – of how we’d discovered the sport in the 80’s & 90’s back when the sport wasn’t even “fringe.” Nobody got plowed and jumped off the roof into the pool. Nobody puked. Nobody got “a tiny bit confrontational.” It was just a chill night. Grandmasters style.

After a gallon of chocolate milk and what felt like fifteen Gatorades, I was almost back to normal the next morning. It helped that the games started at 9:00AM before the sun decided to burn off the atmosphere. In the 2 vs. 3 game against Old Growth, I got a hand block on the first point, which my confidence desperately needed. We played a solid game and when Guillermo caught a little backhand in traffic over the goal line and raised his hand in the air signifying our 15th goal, I pumped my fist and smiled, damn near skipping onto the field. It assured us 2nd place in the Southwest Region. After 22 years, I was at long last going to play at nationals.

The final against Shadows was a big test and though both teams were assured a trip to Denver for the big tourney in July, Sunset had apparently never beaten them. So it was a huge deal to my teammates. The full name of their team was apparently Shadows (Of Our Former Selves). And damn if they were only shadows of their former selves, it was scary to imagine the players they were at 25. I’m (arguably) the fastest over 40 ultimate player in Pittsburgh, a decent sized city with a great ultimate scene. And they had fourteen guys at minimum who were as fast as I was. As a side note, I’m no longer convinced that the fog that rolls into the Bay Area each day isn’t just a cloud of human growth hormone.

Unlike the day before, I felt pretty good as I took the field against them. Late in the first half I laid out to snag a low throw, then popped up and saw Guillermo fake in and take his guy deep. My high release flick hit him in stride to put us within 6-5.

After my biggest moment of the tournament so far, I stormed into the tent and high fived my teammates. “See…see, I’m a pretty good player when I know where the hell I am!”

Then on the next point Defensive Dennis had a sick layout along the sideline to start a break that tied the game 6-6. It was looking like we were going to hang with and perhaps even upset the beasts of the Southwest.

I went in on the next point and glued myself to my guy, not letting him go anywhere without my tattoos in his face. We forced a turn. Feeling confident, I faked deep, stuck my heel in the ground and left my guy behind me. Our handler put up a flick that maybe needed some more zip, but it didn’t matter. I was going to catch it and start the break that was going to put us up 7-6. There was no other possibility.

I just assumed the dude who was guarding me was old and would never be able to recover from the juke I threw on him. And you know the saying about what happens when you assume – it makes you look like a goddamned lazy idiot when you don’t run through the disc and allow your guy to sneak past you and tip it away. (I may have modified that saying slightly to fit the circumstances.)

After that, Shadows went on a four goal run and we never quite recovered losing 15-8 in a game that I’d definitely helped squander. Though disappointed, we came together with the guys from Shadows in a great spirit circle after the game, laughing and shaking hands.

“See you fellas in Colorado.”

Being in that circle with a bunch of athletes who now had gray hairs, a little less muscle, and a few more ailments, I could definitely appreciate the quote at the bottom of the Shadows uniforms.

The older we get, the better we were.

It’s true. I’m far better at 22 now than I ever was when I was actually 22. I think my vertical from back then is up to 70 or 80 inches. My forty yard dash time comes in around four flat. I once scored 17 goals in a game that ended 15-1.

The older we get, the better we were.

It’s the one great thing that us ancients have on the new wave of players who find themselves promoted in slick ass Callahan videos and ESPN live streams. They’re always going to be exactly as good as their actual performance. They can’t stretch the truth. So when I start feeling slightly depressed that the pro leagues and television contracts missed me by half a decade, I can always smile at the young’uns and say, “You should’ve seen me way back when, junior.” And laugh because they won’t be able to verify shit.

You kids may have your Evan Lepler interviews and your Sportscenter Top Tens, but we have legends. Which let’s face it, I’m going to try (and likely fail) to convince myself is somehow cooler.

I spent the entire plane ride home in a middle seat waiting for the leg cramps I knew were on the way. Honestly, it felt like my own hamstrings were stalking me. Somewhere over central Indiana they finally jumped out of the bushes, frightening the hell out of the business people on either side of me. If I were on top of my game, I’d have patted my pocket and said something along the lines of, “Damn it Brutus, quit scratching daddy! Little guy sure hates flying. But that’s squirrels for ya, am I right?” As it was, I just got to chuckle uncomfortably as they both began desperate searches for their headphones.

Uncomfortable plane ride aside, it had all been worth it. At long last, I’d be playing in the tournament that had eluded me for over two decades.

Universe Point is available now on Amazon!

The post Universe Point After Afterword: Part 1 appeared first on Skyd Magazine.

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sunkissis · 7 years

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I spent hours researching our trip to the land of fire and ice, one of my highest priorities was taking phenomenal photos. I signed up for a photography class and educated myself about my Nikon camera settings and lenses. I bought a new zoom lens but I needed something that would allow me a wider angle for close up shots. The problem was a $2,500 lens was not in my budget. I was so stoked to find out that Samy’s Camera rents Nikon lenses! I was able to try out different lenses for $25 bucks a day. I fell in love with a wide angle lens and bought a tripod because every person who has traveled to Iceland assured me I would need it to take photos of the Northern Lights. However the lens was large and heavy and along with two other lenses, the tripod, extra batteries, accessories and an external flash (that we never used) there was no way everything would fit into our camera bag. Antz somehow squeezed everything into his suitcase. I had to repack like ten times because my heavy boots didn’t fit and I kept going over the 44 lb weight maximum.

This was just one of the ten outfits I packed. I bought thermal leggings from Amazon and wore layers everyday because even on windy rainy days, I was sweating from all the hiking. I had the hardest time finding the right coat to wear in Iceland. I did not want a puffy coat because they don’t look so great on me and they only come in boring colors. I ended up finding a fantastic white wool coat from Asos on sale for like $73! It was so warm and I was the brightest person in Reykjavik.

Making it rain in Icelandic Kronas! I found the best currency exchange place located in our new bank in Glendale.

The first day of our trip went surprisingly seamless. I may sound like a broken record but I strongly recommend flying with Wow Airlines. I will say, their gate at LAX was kinda lame and it felt like we walked for miles to get there. However they are a fairly new airline to LAX, so they don’t have a lounge area to wait in yet. Since we arrived so early and didn’t want to stand or sit on the floor for an hour, we waited in the nearby Virgin Atlantic area. Luckily, we saw the Wow crew walking by so we knew it was almost time to board. Other than that, everything was great. We had the sweetest flight attendants (ours looked like Margot Robbie) and the pilots invited Liv into the cockpit when we landed. The plane was clean and the seats had more room in coach than other airlines I’ve flown. There are only two seats for the window row so Antz had to sit across from us in the middle. All flights from Los Angeles arrive in Reykjavik at 4 am so that is something you need to plan for if you are checking into a hotel. We had a full day planned so it worked to our advantage.

Our Uber driver was a little crazy, he followed the weirdest route to LAX which took us on a journey through the back alleys of downtown but we made it on time! LAX is one of my favorite places in Los Angeles. The TSA line is always miserable but there has been improvements on the design of the international terminal.

Once we made it through the lines of agony, we did some pre-flight shopping at Fred Segal. Then we picked up a light breakfast of pastries.

Can someone please buy these for my next trip??!!

Most folks seem to have a problem when it comes to traveling with young kids but honestly, Liv has been our lucky rabbits foot. We get to board the plane first, the flight attendants absolutely love her which gets us perks and she’s a pleasure to travel with. It’s true, the earlier you travel with your kids, the more open-minded and exposed they become.

Fortunately no one sat next to Antz so he had plenty of room to spread out.

I love that we can give our daughter the gift of travel and a proclivity for adventure. As we were flying over Canada, I felt so grateful that we could afford to take this trip instead of putting it off for “one day“.

Liv ate an entire box of rice crispy treats. Don’t forget to pack plenty of snacks and water, nothing on this flight is free!

I waited my whole life to see the incredible Northern Lights. The week before we arrived in Iceland, they had the most vivid and clear Northern Lights in recent history. The government shut down all the lights in Reykjavik so people could view them better. I tracked the weather and the nightly skies on this website everyday until our trip. I slept during most of the flight but I did wake up and happened to look out the window. That sad green smear you see above is the Northern Lights. I tried and failed to take a photo with my rented lens because it was impossible to take a shot while we were moving and the glass from the window wasn’t allowing my camera to auto focus. When I took the photography class I specifically asked about taking photos at night and the key is to use a slow shutter speed, which means using a tripod. Every shot I have seen of the northern lights look like this…

That early morning was the only Northern Lights we were able to see because clouds came in with our flight and obscured the sky for the whole week. The Liz curse strikes again!

You wanna hear another great story? I booked our car rental back in July. I went ahead and splurged on an SUV with a snow package and all the extra insurance I could buy just in case. My friend Christina recommended getting a portable WiFi box so we will have coverage. I also got a navigation system even though the last time I rented a car in London, it didn’t work. So, I was pretty covered for our rental which totaled close to $800 for the week. I was promised to get a BMW X3 SUV or similar. This is what I got and believe me when I say, I acted like a disgusting, entitled American and threw a tantrum when I saw this Opal whatever it is. The chick at the rental place was like, “Bitch…you can walk.” So, here’s my Icelandic $800 pimped out ride. Well, at least it had a heated steering wheel.

The only place to eat that was open at 6am was disappointing Subway. Yet, after a long flight, we were starving so it was good to have something familiar. I got the “Cool American” flavor Doritos. It was insane that the sun doesn’t rise until 9 am. It was pitch black at 8 in the morning.

Guess those snow tires I paid for came in handy. They chilled in the trunk for the whole week. I think I could have been happier with the car if it was white. What color is this, depressing beige?

It was freezing by the time we arrived at the Blue Lagoon. I was worried we wouldn’t be able to enjoy the visit because of how cold it was outside.

The Blue Lagoon was breath-taking. It was cold but once you’re in the water, it’s lovely. Now I was glad I paid for all of our extra luggage because I brought our aqua sock water shoes. Bare feet in public spaces is my phobia! There is an indoor entrance in the water so you don’t have to walk outside in the cold. Kids under 8 are required to wear floaties but the water level was shallow enough for Liv to stand on her tippy toes.

Really, best day ever!! You must bring a GoPro to the lagoon. iPhones won’t cut it.

So surreal, it was so warm and beautiful. And we only had been in Iceland for five hours.

After a quick shower, we were back on the road, headed to our hotel for the first night. I booked the iconic Ion Luxury Hotel for our first night in Iceland because it is located in the middle of nowhere. Like, so much so that they don’t even have an traditional address. Of course, our rental’s navigation system took us an hour out of the way to get there. We were the only car driving on an endless stretch of road so I was pretty nervous we would get lost. Luckily, Iceland has awesome maps on the side of the roads for us clueless tourists. They are so thoughtful. I first read about the impressive hotel when it was featured in Afar magazine. It is known for being one of the best hotels for viewing the Northern Lights. Since it has the word luxury in the name, you know it’s expensive and also sold out even six months in advance. I must have called to make reservations every damn day until finally three weeks before our trip, they found a room for me. I was elated because this meant we could go to their beautiful Northern Lights bar and sit by the floor to ceiling windows to see the Northern Lights. It never occurred to me there would be a week of cloudy skies but we enjoyed our night at the hotel anyway.

This river was boiling hot. Iceland, you so crazy! There is steam coming from power plants all over Iceland. People who live there never have to pay to heat their water. Energy is also dirt cheap because they power mostly everything from steam.

Let me say, this hotel is unique and off the beaten track. It definitely had a James Bond sexy vibe to it. We were told that helicopter belonged to one of the guests, fancy! The Silfra restaurant is so reknown that tourists are bussed in from Reykjavik. We didn’t think to make a reservation since we were staying at the hotel and they almost couldn’t accommodate us.

A cool thing about the water in Iceland, it’s 100% from the natural springs. Iceland has the purest water on the planet so you can actually drink from the shower, the faucets or even the ground. We went to a store and tried to buy bottled water and the woman was like “No, you go to the hotel and fill up your water bottle from the tap!” Honestly, the best water I have ever tasted. It felt nice to take a long hot shower and not feel guilty about a drought.

We arrived at the hotel about noon but our room wasn’t ready yet so we hung out in the lobby. Our jet lag set in and we ended up falling asleep. I know I was snoring! When our room was ready, we had just enough time to change our clothes for our horseback riding tour. We booked a private tour through the hotel so a nice girl named Hannah picked us up and drove us to her family’s farm.

The two hours was over in an instant. It rained lightly but the sun peeked out. The horses were incredible, I was Snapchatting and taking photos most of the time so my horse was like “Ok, lady I guess I’ll control myself.”

When we got back to the hotel, we were starving. Silfra restaurant was packed. The hotel only has 24 rooms but there were booked for dinner. Iceland’s specialty is seafood and lamb but we had amazing sushi too. I used my charm to get us a table even though they require reservations. This was our most expensive meal during the trip.

OMG! This langoustine was heaven. Antz loved his seafood soup. Liv’s burger was meh.

After a quick FaceTime with my BFF, Aimee we went straight to bed. I’m actually relieved the Northern Lights weren’t out that night because it felt like we were awake for 24 hours straight so off to bed we went. It was incredibly hard to wake up early for our next long day.

Iceland Day One I spent hours researching our trip to the land of fire and ice, one of my highest priorities was taking phenomenal photos.

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