#By the time he got Cross he was probably onto his 3rd book of observations

[somegrumpynerd]

How absolutely wild must it have been for Nightmare to have like, minimum-to-no contact with mortals for hundreds of years and then the first two he has any regular close interactions with are Killer and Dust.

Like he must have a book in his castle somewhere of all the observations he kept like he was studying a new species

[rora-s]

The Derivative Chapter 1: Sixteen

“Abbs come on time to leave” Janice called into the back room at the diner. 

“Coming” the teenager replied and grabbed her backpack from the floor. Waving bye to the diner chef she followed her mother out the door. 

Janice and Abby loaded into their small sedan. The vehicle was packed full of stuff from clothes to random bit and bobs. They practically lived out of their car for the last couple years until they settled down in the latest apartment and even then they had been hesitant to finally make the move. 

“Okay so I was thinking” Janice began as she pulled out of the parking lot. 

“Oh that’s dangerous” Abby murmured with a smirk as they drove. 

Janice shot her daughter a look. “Well in a few months you’ll be turning the beautiful age of sixteen. And I was wondering what you wanted to do to celebrate? Cause if you want something big I’ll have to start saving now. But of course if you would rather run your mouth-” 

“Hey hey hey I had to get this sarcasm somewhere” Abby pointed out.

“Yes your father” Janice replied. 

“Yes blame it on the non-existent father in my life” Abby scoffed. 

Janice sighed “alright anyway you want to have a celebration or what?” 

“I don’t know” Abby shrugged. “It’s not like I want a party or anything maybe us just hanging out?” 

“How about a picnic?” Janice suggested pulling up to a red light. Abby gave her a perplexed look. “Lay out a blanket on the floor in the apartment. Get some nice food it could be great” 

“Yeah that sounds great Mom” Abby agreed “you’re the best” 

“I try” Janice replied.

They both laughed as the light turned green. There was the sound of a blaring horn. The car filled with bright light Abby felt her mother’s hand collide with her chest. She heard the screech of brakes and the crunch of metal. 

“Mom!”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“Abby!” Bang! Bang! Bang! “Come on get up! Your alarms been going for the last ten minutes!” 

I groaned in exhausted annoyance and rolled over in my blankets swatting haphazardly at the alarm on my nightstand. There was another round of banging on my bedroom door “I’m up! I’m up!” I yawned sitting up in my bed.

“Listen I got to get to work and you have to get to school so start moving” the man on the other side of my door ordered. 

“I am moving” I responded around a second yawn. 

“Yeah you totally sound awake” I heard him mutter. 

“Hey I heard that” I called and got a scoff in response as he headed on down the hallway. 

With a deep breath I got up and started getting ready. My room was pretty plain with a dresser and bed and a couple knickknacks strewn about. I’d only been living in it for a little less than a month which was quite apparent. Though I didn’t have much stuff in the first place. I threw on a t-shirt, jeans, plaid button up, and my well loved and sharpied sneakers. 

I headed downstairs with my backpack over my shoulder tossing it on the couch. My biological father was pouring himself some coffee in the kitchen. “Morning” He muttered as I began fixing myself some cereal. 

“Morning Don” I replied. 

“Listen with this case I’m working I’m probably going to be home late” he started. 

“Am I staying at Grandpa’s then?” I inquired. 

“Maybe not staying but you’ll be going there after school today” the FBI agent explained. 

“Awesome” I responded sarcastically “maybe I’ll get some decent food then” 

“Ouch” Don joked as his phone rang. He answered it and went into business mode “Eppes… yeah?” his face fell as he listened to the person on the other line “when? Where?” he checked his watch and I knowingly started eating faster. “Yeah alright I’ll be there as soon as I can… yeah” he hung up and started moving faster grabbing his things. 

“Case?” I asked, finishing my cereal and sliding my bowl into the sink. 

“Yup come on I have to get you to school and then go to a crime scene” he explained. 

“But I haven’t brushed my hair or my teeth yet” I objected standing up as he walked past me to grab his jacket. 

“Chew some gum and I don’t know, wear a hat” he offered. 

“They don’t allow hats in school” I explained, not dropping the sarcastic edge from my voice.

Don seemed rather frazzled. “Well then I don’t know what to tell you. Now come on” I sighed and grabbed my backpack as we headed out the door. “Since when do you care about your hair anyway?” 

I rolled my eyes running my fingers through my short brown hair “you’re the worst parental guardian ever” 

_____________

3rd POV. 

“Silber’s at work right now at the hospital” Terry informed as her and Don loaded into the truck. 

“Alright let’s get heading that way then” the man muttered. Pulling out of the FBI car lot. 

They drove for only a couple seconds before Terry spoke up again. “So you were late to the crime scene this morning” it was a cross between a statement and a question. 

Don sighed “yeah Abby had a late start and I had to drop her at school” 

“Right being a dad’s not that easy huh?” the woman voiced. 

Don scoffed in response. “Well I don’t know if I even qualify as a dad yet.” he explained “she definitely doesn’t call me one. This morning I was dubbed the worst parental guardian ever”

“Well she called you her parent sorta” Terry offered.

Don chuckled lightly “yeah sorta” 

“Relax Don, she's a moody fifteen year old girl who just came to live with her birth father. She needs some time to adjust” the profiler explained as they turned onto the street with the hospital. 

“Sixteen this weekend actually” Don informed. 

“Really?” Terry looked to the man in surprise. “You guys doing anything? Party? Something?” 

Don shrugged “I got her a present. A ball cap.” Terry shot her partner a pointed look “what? I don’t know what teenage girls are into these days. And as for a party with what friends?” The two agents climbed out of the car in front of the large hospital. “She hates school, never really even talks to anybody.” 

“She’s gifted right? Like your brother the mathematician?” the woman inquired. 

“In a different way but yeah” Don nodded. “Took college algebra in fifth grade from what I understand and can remember anything she’s ever read. Actually she reads anything you put in her hand faster than the average person” 

“Well then it makes sense she would hate school. She’s not learning anything” Terry voiced. 

“Yeah well they won’t put her in an advanced program cuz she doesn’t have a solid school report history” Don explained “I don’t even think she was ever in the 1st or 2nd grade even” 

Terry nodded as they entered the hospital elevator “you know it might help if you actually talk to her about it.”

“Yeah” Don sighed as the doors closed. 

______________

Abby POV. 

I sat in yet another class bored out of my mind. I was two chapters ahead of my teacher and classmates in all of my classes and most of the topics they discussed I had learned about already. 

“Now the derivative is a way to show the rate of change. That is, the amount by which a function is changing at one given point. For functions that act on the real numbers, it is the slope of the tangent line at a point on a graph…” 

I tuned out my teacher and rested my head on my desk. I had positioned myself in the very back corner of the classroom as to attract the least attention from my teacher and peers. Reaching into my backpack I pulled out my blinders. My medical grade sunglasses like eye cover that I put on to block out all visual stimuli. They were given to me by a doctor that examined me for my memory while I was in the foster system. 

As I rested there isolating my mind from the world I began to dwell on the various things that rested in the back of my mind. However one topic I tended to shy away from. A topic that was getting harder to avoid. My birthday.

It was coming up and I wasn’t completely certain I wanted to do anything for it. Me and my mom had talked about how we were going to celebrate it. But she was gone now and Don. I doubted he even remembered it was coming. 

The bell rang pulling me from my thoughts. I slipped my blinders to the top of my head and grabbed my stuff. Heading for the door. “Abby” I turned to the teacher who was sitting at her desk. “Can I talk to you for a second?” 

I shifted in my path for the door and walked over to Mrs. Clive’s desk. “What do you need.” 

She gave me a look and picked up a book from her desk handing it to me. “I saw your birthday was this weekend. Got you this” 

I took the book from her and looked at it. The book was Grim Grotto by Lemony Snicket. A book I had been after since its release earlier this year. “Thank you” I murmured. 

“Ms. Rampart from the library said that you had been pestering her about it since you joined us so I figured it must be something you’re interested in” Clive informed. 

“Yeah I got hooked on it and read up to current last year,” I explained. 

“You know with the monster stories you come in here with I wouldn’t have figured you for the series of unfortunate events” Clive voiced.

I scoffed “yeah and what would you figure I’d read?” 

Clive grinned back “war and peace” 

I shrugged “read that years ago” 

The woman nodded “well go on or you’ll miss your bus” 

“Thank you Mrs. Clive, for the book” I told her. 

“You’re welcome Abby and happy birthday” she smiled. 

“Thanks” I nodded heading out of her classroom. Mrs. Clive was probably my favorite teacher at this school though she was a little too observant on some things. She always took the time to ask me how I was and never got mad at me for not paying attention in class. Of course she did get annoyed when I didn’t turn in homework on time. She knew I could do it. 

I had to jog to get to my bus on time and as I was one of the last ones on I had to sit next to some kid who was half standing on the seat turned around talking to his friend. I was thankful that my stop was quick on the route. 

Hopping off I walked up to my grandfather’s house and let myself in the front door. “Abby! Is that you?” he called. 

“Yeah gramps” I called back. 

He appeared shortly after “ah hey how was your day?” 

“Fine” I shrugged, tossing my backpack on the couch. “Is uncle Charlie here?” 

“Uh yeah upstairs I think” he replied. “You want a snack?” 

“No I'm good” I settled onto the couch and opened the book Clive had gotten me. 

“The grim grotto” Alan read aloud. “Sounds interesting” 

“Yeah it’s from Lemony Snicket's series of Unfortunate Events” I explained. 

“Seems like a light read for you” the man commented sitting down in one of the chairs nearby and picking up the paper. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I exclaimed exasperatedly. 

“Because you read twice as fast as the average person and have an Advanced Eiaditic memory” Alan explained. 

“It’s Advanced Eidetic” I corrected “and just because I read faster doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a small book like this” 

“If you say so” Alan sighed seemingly annoyed with me “so what’s so fascinating about this book series anyway” 

“I don’t know” I replied honestly as I shifted on the couch pulling my feet up “I guess I can relate to being bounced around all the time from place to place under unfortunate circumstances” My grandfather made a humming noise and finally ended his questioning as I turned my attention back to my book. We both returned to our normal after school reading silence. 

____________________________

“Donnie!” I heard my father’s announced arrival from gramps before I saw the man himself  

“Brisket. Must be Friday.” Don murmured as I came wandering out of the kitchen to see him.

“What’s up?” Alan inquired of his eldest son.

“I didn’t have time to drive home. Can I catch a shower here, maybe borrow a clean shirt?” the man requested.

“Yeah, sure, be my guest.” Alan agreed easily.

“So much for 'not staying'” I commented knowingly. 

Don sighed, turning to look at me. “Yeah sorry kid. Case took a turn” 

“It’s fine” I muttered in reply. I knew Don’s work could be trying sometimes and keep him away from home for long periods of time. Which led to me spending half my time staying at my grandfather’s house. 

“Yeah well it’s nice having you around the house anyway” Alan told me as Don turned to head upstairs. “And tell your brother to come down for dinner” Gramps called after his eldest son. 

“If the food’s done he’s probably on his way already” I joked taking a seat at the table.

Alan scoffed and turned back to Don. “you want some there’s plenty” 

“No, I can’t.” The FBI agent objected, removing his tie and tossing it on the table “I got to get back to work.” 

As Don left to go upstairs Charlie appeared. “Abby? When did you get here?” 

I exchanged a look with Alan who was pouring water into everyone’s glasses. “A couple weeks ago Uncle C” I called in a sarcastic reply. Which earned me a look from my uncle. 

I saw the man’s attention shift to the maps my father had brought in with him. I got up to go look over his shoulder at them. “Hey you two that’s Don’s work. Probably be better if you not mess with it” 

“We’re just looking at the map gramps” I responded over my shoulder as I took in the information surrounding the thirteen little red dots on this map. My brain kicked into autopilot as it began various calculations. 

“Well then just the map then none of the files” Alan ordered “you hear me”

“Yeah dad we hear you” Charlie responded this time. However from his tone you could tell his mind was somewhere else. 

“You think there’s something here?” I asked.

“Maybe” Charlie breathed out as we both continued to analyze the data. “We could help” Charlie was talking lightly both our minds processing the information on the maps with mathematical precision. “Crime scenes”

“Tracking, rating, origin point” I muttered looking at the scattered red dots. Me and Charlie looked at each other both realizing the same thing at the same time.

“Charlie, Abby, what do you think you’re doing?” I turned as Don’s voice came from behind. He was done with his shower.

“Crime scenes” Charlie replied seemingly unaware of Don’s obvious annoyance “what kind of crimes?”

“Get away from here” Don snapped folding up the map quickly “these are confidential case files”

“I already saw the map it’s imprinted on my memory” I replied pointedly. “It doesn’t really matter whether you put it up now or not and we didn’t get in the files.”

“She’s telling the truth.” Alan called from where he was feeding his pet bird. “They just looked at the map. I made sure they didn’t go through anything else.”

“Good,” Don grumbled, grabbing his tie.

“Thirteen crime scenes spread over a contained region. You guys are analyzing the significance of those locations?” Charlie inquired of Don as the older brother tied his tie in the mirror on the wall. I stayed over by the table Charlie followed him.

“Yeah, it’s called predictive analysis.” Don explained “the FBI pioneered it. I trained in it at Quantico, and it doesn’t work on sado-serial crimes. There’s no way to predict the location of the next attack.”

“You know, I helped you out on that stock fraud mess,” Charlie began and I rolled my eyes at his obvious bid. “And the IRS extortion case.”

“Yeah. This is different.” Don objected finishing his tie and turning away from his brother “it’s not about numbers”

“Everything is numbers” Charlie stated and looked to me as Don grabbed his jacket. I shrugged beyond a couple theories there was nothing that I could see us being able to help with or at least not that I could with my limited knowledge. Uncle Charlie sighed and turned to the backyard something caught his eye and I watched as the gears turned in his head. “Don. Hey.” he turned quickly and went after his brother. “Um, can I show you something really quick?”

“No, Charlie I got to get-” Don attempted to argue but his rebellion was futile. As Charlie continued to pester and managed to draw him over to the window facing the backyard. I followed behind them curious to what the mathematician had come up with.

“Check this out.” Charlie gestured outside “you see the sprinkler, yeah?”

“Yeah I see the sprinkler” Don muttered clearly uninterested.

“You see the drops?”

“Yep. See the drops”

Then it clicked in my mind what he was thinking “Even using math there’s no practical way to predict where the next water drop will land” Charlie began his explanation and I walked closer. “There’s too many variables. However, say I couldn’t see the sprinkler. From the pattern of the drops, I could calculate its precise location.”

“The origin point” I voiced.

Charlie flashed me a proud grin then turned back to Don who seemed to slowly be getting the idea “it’s not about predicting the next site. It’s finding what the sites have in common. The point of origin” he nodded to me.

“Charlie, you’re saying you can tell us where the killer lives?” Don inquired.

“Yeah” the mathematician nodded.

“And I can help,” I added.

____________________________

“The movements of a serial perpetrator are defined by his needs. He watches potential victims. Avoiding detection, he’ll frequent public areas, parks, streets that don’t get a lot of traffic, waiting for moments of isolations.” Don explained pacing back and forth in the dining room. 

“Isolated areas, high probability of attacks.” Charlie murmured scribbling on the pad of paper in front of him. 

“Tv distracting you?” Alan inquired as he passed by the table from the kitchen. “I could turn it off” 

“No, it's fine, dad.” Don objected, he glanced over at me sitting in a chair in front of the tv and I quickly diverted my eyes as the brother’s continued to talk. 

Moments later Alan came over and sat down in the seat next to mine. I sighed and turned to my grandfather “This is so unfair I can help” 

“You’re a teenager Abby not an adult” Alan replied with his eyes on the tv. “Let them work” 

“I'm a teenager with a near genius IQ living with an overprotective jerk” I muttered. 

“I heard that” Don called from where he sat on the table. 

“Yeah well it’s a fact” I called over to him. 

“She is capable Don” Charlie agreed “and her help would be valuable”

“I said no I mean no. You’re just a kid. You don’t have clearance and I’m not letting you get involved in a criminal case” The agent put his foot down. “Now can you just listen to me for once?” 

“I listen I just don’t follow” I muttered scooting down in my chair. Alan shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. 

“I get the sense that this is about more than just you wanting to help on this case” the elder man inferred. I crossed my arms and tried to focus in on what Don and Charlie were saying. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with your birthday being this weekend.” 

“It’s not about that” I objected in a tone that was probably more snap than I intended. Sitting up I saw Don looking at me. I sighed, getting up and heading out to the backyard I couldn’t deal with this today. 

__________________

3rd POV. 

Don left Charlie to do his equations and settled to watch the baseball game with his father. “You going to go talk to her?” Alan inquired after a moment.

Don sighed glancing over to the back door Abby had stormed out of. “No she needs to cool off” 

“Still” the grandfather muttered. 

“Still what? She’s a teenager, you really want me getting her involved in a criminal case?” Don voiced. 

“No, no that’s not what I’m saying Don” Alan sighed “listen it’s her sixteenth birthday this weekend” 

“Yeah” Don muttered “I know I got her a present” 

Alan let off an annoyed breath “Donnie it’s her first birthday without her mother. It’s her first birthday with a father.” Don sighed and looked to the ground. “Have you even talked to her about Janice at all?” 

Don shifted in his seat “I don’t know dad she doesn’t want to talk what am I supposed to do?” 

“Donnie there’s a difference between not wanting to talk and not knowing how to,” Alan explained, “and unfortunately it’s a trait she seemed to have inherited from you.” 

___________________________

“Let’s go” Don ordered the gathered group of agents. Heading for his desk as they dispersed to get everything done. 

“Another day” Terry voiced over his shoulder he glanced back at her before refocusing on his files. “That means the case cuts into Abby’s birthday this weekend doesn’t it?”

“Yeah well she’s staying with my dad” Don muttered, closing the file and tossing it aside. 

“Are you at least going to call her or something?” Terry inquired.

“It’s too late now I will in the morning” the man replied, rising from his desk and heading off. 

Terry sighed watching him walk away. “Yeah if you remember” 

________________

Abby POV. 

White light filled my view, tires screeched, horns honked, a hand slammed into my chest, the crunch of metal, a scream. “Mom!” 

I startled awake sitting up on the couch. Thunder crashed outside. I removed the blinders from my eyes. “Abby are you alright” I turned as Alan came into the living room. “I heard you yell.” 

“Uh yeah” I replied as my heart rate slowed back down. “It was just a dream” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” the man inquired further. However just then the door opened and in came Charlie. He looked like a drowned rat. “Aw Charlie don’t tell me you went biking out in this weather” 

“I had to go by my office” the man replied as he settled down at the table pulling the FBI case files out of his bag. He was obviously shaken by something. 

The front door opened again and in came Don. “Hey guys, what's up?” he asked, seeming deflated. “Charlie you’re soaked” 

“Yes I’m aware” the younger man replied. 

Don removed his jacket and went for the coffee in the kitchen as I wandered over to the dining room. Which seemed to be the place everyone was congregating. Our reflections shown in the darkened rain streaked windows. Don reappeared shortly after with a mug of coffee. He placed it on the table and began pacing the room. 

“I can’t get my head around it.” Charlie voiced after a moment. 

“What are we missing?” Don ran along the same thought “where’s the problem? And how do we make it work? We need to make it work” he stated the last part more forcefully. 

It was weird watching him work. The gears turning in his head. “We need to retest it. We need another run.” Charlie declared standing and going up to Don who was still pacing. 

“Well that’s not going to happen” the agent objected, turning to his younger brother. 

“Well, look I know that it’s gonna be hard for you to talk your boss into doing it again,” the mathematician tried “but we can’t stop after one attempt-” 

“Charlie” Don tried to interrupt however the professor continued to truck on. 

“New methods require repeated trials-” 

“Charlie, I’m not on the case anymore.” Don explained finally. “Okay?” 

“Why?” Charlie inquired. 

I sighed and watched the look exchanged between Alan and Don. “because my supervisor wanted fresh eyes on it.” I could tell he was lying. 

“Well, maybe the math is not the problem” Alan suggested suddenly. 

“What do you mean?” Charlie questioned. 

“Well, you just said that there was something you couldn’t get your head around,” Alan elaborated further “and I know for a fact that it can’t be the math.” 

“What else is there?” Charlie sighed. Then it clicked like it was obvious.

“The people” I voiced causing all of them to look at me like they had just realized my existence. “The math can only predict what people will do acting within certain parameters what if this guy acts outside of your preconceived notions of human behavior?” I offered. 

“Hey, maybe they’re right” Don nodded walking past me back to the window to point at the water spraying outside. “I mean, this sprinkler. That totally made sense. That you could track back from the location and find out where the guy lives. Right? Totally made sense.” he turned from his father and brother to look at me. “Maybe we’re thinking about this guy in too narrow a focus.” 

“Are you saying I need to consider more than his criminal activities?” Charlie seemed confused. 

“No not exactly” Don explained “I’m saying we maybe need to consider more than just where he lives. Like Abby said. You know look at me. If you designed an equation to find my origin, you wouldn’t get my apartment ‘cause I’m almost never there. My base would be my office.” 

I looked to Charlie as he meandered over toward the window the gears in his head spinning. The math forming in his mind. “Which means we use his home and his work as points of origin.” 

“Exactly” Don agreed. 

“I can design an equation to identify two hot zones.” Charlie muttered eyes still transfixed on the window. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he questioned, turning back to us. “Don… Dad… Abby.” he looked to us each individually. “That’s brilliant” 

It wasn’t long before the boys were packing it up and heading back to Don’s office. Both invigorated by the discovery. Once they were gone Alan turned to me. “You should get to bed, it’s late and tomorrow is a rather important day.”

I nodded slightly as he turned to head to the kitchen “Do you think he knows?” I voiced almost not meaning to. “Do you think Don remembers that it’s my birthday tomorrow?” 

Alan sighed looking back at me. “Abby, Don can get wrapped up in his work but uh, he’s never been one to forget what’s important.” I bit my lip and looked to the floor thinking. “Alright now up to bed” 

“Goodnight gramps” 

“Goodnight Abby” the man smiled at me as I headed for the stairs. 

I reached the room that had at one point been Don’s and collapsed on the bed. My world had been a lot smaller when it was just me and my mom. A lot scarier and a whole lot less normal but definitely smaller and less complicated. 

_________________________

I was startled awake again from the same dream, the same memory. I slowed my breaths and got up from the bed. Dawn had barely set in and light wasn’t very prevalent outside. I paced back and forth in the room. Thinking over everything before finally making a decision. 

I threw on some clothes, grabbed my backpack and headed out of the room. I crept through the house quietly as not to wake Gramps snoring down the hall. As I reached the front door I paused looking back at the house before ducking out and running. 

____________________

3rd POV.

Don sighed as he packed away the last couple files on his desk. The case was finally closed and he was exhausted. He glanced over and saw a small stack of books on his desk wrapped in a bow. He pulled it closer to him and looked at the card on them. To: Abby From: Terry. 

“Figured you could give it to her for me” the female agent spoke up causing Don to turn to her. 

“Yeah sure” he agreed. 

Terry gave him a smile. “Go home Don and celebrate your daughter’s birthday” she instructed him. 

Don nodded as she left. He sat there for a moment thinking about everything today meant. Sixteen years ago today he had become a father and he hadn’t even known it. Then a couple weeks ago he had been told and expected to start acting like a Dad. Don sure didn’t feel like a father. Anytime he talked to Abby it felt weird like he couldn’t find the words or she would just give him sarcasm. It was easier just not to talk at all. He had no idea what he was doing and she certainly didn’t seem to want him around. 

Don let off a breath and rose from his seat gathering up his things. Then his phone rang glancing at his caller ID he was surprised to see it was his father “hey dad what’s-”

“Abby’s missing” Alan interrupted. 

Don immediately felt like he couldn’t breath. His heart rate picked up and his lungs felt empty. “What?” 

“She’s missing. Gone.” Alan repeated he sounded scared himself “I went to wake her up this morning and she just wasn’t there” 

Every worse case scenario started shooting through Don’s mind. Where could she be? Could she be hurt? Kidnapped? Lost somewhere? Scared? He couldn’t think straight as fear coursed through his veins. 

“Alright call the cops put out an Amber alert” Don suggested “see- see if she’s with Charlie or something. I’ll try her cell and go look at- ah the library, the apartment. Places she might go” 

He was talking extremely fast he realized as the cop side of him battled with a side of him he’d never felt before. A kind of pure terror and concern that he couldn’t even begin to quantify as he grabbed his coat and bolted for the elevator hanging up on his father and speed dialing his daughter’s number. She didn’t answer. He tried again and again as he reached his car. This couldn’t be happening. Where was she?

___________________________

Don was driving away from the library as his phone rang. He answered it without even glancing at the caller ID hoping to hear his daughter’s voice on the other line. He was disappointed. 

“Don”

“Charlie I can’t talk right now. Abby is-” 

“I know Dad told me” Charlie informed “He also said she was upset-” 

“She’s always moody Charlie what are you saying?” Don snapped probably a little more harshly than he meant to. 

“I think I know where she is” Charlie spoke quickly as not to be cut off by his frantic older brother. 

________________

Don cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. After all his worrying and frantic searching why hadn’t he looked here first? As he pulled to a stop and got out of his truck he felt himself slow as relief washed over him. 

Sitting in the grass not too far off was Abby. She was staring at one of the various stones of the cemetery. Don sighed and walked over to her somberly. 

Nothing was said as he sat down next to her. He didn’t need to read the name of the stone to guess whose it was. Janice Calvin. His ex-girlfriend and Abby’s mother. 

“You know you scared everyone half to death” he finally stated after a moment. 

“Sorry” the girl replied, looking to her feet. “I should have left a note or something. I just wanted to be alone here for awhile.” 

“Yeah” Don let off a breath just relieved she was okay.

“It’s my sixteenth birthday” Abby muttered, turning back to the stone but still not looking at him. 

“I know I got you a present,” Don replied softly. 

“Mom and me had been planning my sweet sixteen before..” Abby trailed looking to the ground. “It was just going to be the two of us. We were going to cook and have a picnic in our apartment. We couldn't do much because you know we didn’t have a lot of money. But we were going to have each other.” 

“I’m so sorry Abby” Don told her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders hesitantly. “Your mother loved you” 

“I know she did I just- I just miss her” Abby sniffed and for the first time. Don saw his daughter cry. He felt a part of him inside falter. Like something had broken or shifted. 

“I miss her too.” Don explained. “Your mother was an incredible person. And my biggest regret was letting her go” 

“Do you think if she would have stayed- if she would have told you,” Abby questioned. “That things would have been different? That we would have..” The girl trailed but her question was clear. 

“I don’t know Abbs but” Don sighed and finally he understood what his own father had been trying to tell him all this time. “Abby I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’ve missed so much of your life to the point I- I didn’t even know what to get you for your birthday. I just-” he paused biting his lip. “I just feel like we’ve both been living with each other these last few weeks and not actually trying to have a relationship because it’s scary and complicated but Abby.” he sighed “today when dad called and told me you were missing.. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.” Abby looked up at him as tears streaked down her face. “Now I know your mom loved you and Abby so do I alright?” 

“Alright” she managed but in the next second Abby wrapped her arms around Don’s middle as she broke into sobs. Don just held her in his arms holding back his own tears. 

__________________

Abby POV. 

It was late. After the cemetery Don had called and told everyone that I was safe. I felt bad putting them through all of that. I just hadn’t realized how many people would freak out had I gone missing. I was sitting at my desk in my own room reading one of the books Terry had gotten me quietly. 

There was a knock on my door. I paused in my reading and rose from my chair. Opening it I wasn’t exactly surprised to see my father standing outside. “What?” I inquired with minor annoyance at being disturbed. Though after everything that happened today I didn’t have much energy left to be annoyed. 

“Come on I’ve got a surprise for you” Don replied ignoring my sarcasm. 

“What?” I repeated exasperatedly curious for what this surprise could be. 

“Come on” Don scoffed, ushering me out of my room and toward the living room. I dragged my feet and had to practically be shoved out by my determined father. 

My irritated rebellion ended however as we exited the stairs. The coffee table had been moved and various colorful lights were hanging all around. In the center was a blanket laid out with something like a picnic setting. “Now I know it’s probably not exactly what you and your mom planned but..” Don sighed stepping around to look me in the face as I stared around in awe “Happy Birthday Abby” 

“Thanks D- Don” I replied. Stumbling on the name as the word Dad nearly slipped from my mouth. He smiled and we settled down on the blanket to eat. Talking and laughing and joking. It was a fun night and after all of it I was really happy to have my dad in my life. 

Chapter 2->

[driftwork]

honeymoon - 3rd person...

They had  broken the rituals that had bound them into their lives within their respective worlds. The solid structures they had lived in, the concrete  had become erratic streams in which only their being together remained, and even this was really an ongoing experiment. And so here we have two people who are  together [...] 

His wife  had felt tired and unwell, she was about six months pregnant with their first child at the time and they had rushed back to the hotel room, where she had laid down, tired, shivering and feeling sick.  They didn't want to ask the hotel for a doctor immediately because they had only been married a few days and they were on their honeymoon, and on a honeymoon you do not really want the interference of strange doctors. And after all she was probably just tired, being pregnant and having overdone it during the previous week after their wedding, before travelling by train to Paris the day before.  They were staying in an expensive hotel sheltered from the traffic by deep pavements and the square in front of the hotel. She fell asleep almost immediately as soon as he had helped her undress and he had helped her put on a teeshirt to sleep in and covered her with the duvet. He didn't want to do anything that could disturb her sleep so he went and sat on the balcony with the book he was reading in his hand, the balcony door slightly ajar so he could listen for her,  instead of reading he was watching people walk around and across the square. The people of paris, how they walked and dressed, their voices could be heard like a soft murmur, traffic sounding like the sea in the distance, cyclists running through like drunken molecules, bounce, bounce, bounce. He looked out and sighed wondering if they were right to have come even for the few days. He looked out without really seeing anything, it felt like one of those days at work when he was trying to decide whether to arrest some pitiful criminal or not. How did it become like that he wondered, knowing that it was because of the asleep woman on the bed,  how did everything become about context? They had  broken the rituals that had bound them into their homes within their respective worlds. The solid structures they had lived in, the houses of concrete  had become fluid in which only their being together was becoming fixed, and even this was really an ongoing experiment. Was it simply that he had become a more serious criminal than than most of the people he arrested ? Over the past few years since carrying her bag across the city all that had remained stable was her. That one person who had remade him as a person, a becoming ethical was with him. They had become married, he smiled at the phrase as he thought it, for political reasons, to convince others that they were staying in place, unmoving in exile. Together. He looked down and identified the uneven distribution of men in suits, picking out the man in a dark suit who unlike everyone else was simply standing, motionless looking forward at the hotel. The man was about thirty, a white shirt neath his suit jacket, dark shoes. Perhaps he was waiting for someone ?  He decided he was waiting for something, someone, who? After a few minutes he answered his phone and walked in a circle as he spoke and listened. Another man walked over and handed him a bag, before leaving the square. it was a large black bag which he held in his left hand, the shoulder strap hanging down towards the path.  He walked over to a bench made up of four planks of dark wood bolted onto a metal frame that was facingtowards  the hotel. He sat on the bench after adjusting his clothes to be more comfortable, his left shoulder seemed slightly out of alignment and he stretched slightly to loosen his posture.

It was growing dark and the fading light made the man on the bench seem more solitary, more isolated and  more obviously waiting for something, an instruction perhaps. Whatever it never arrived.  He started reading his book in the light from the window as the anti-photons began to absorb the light from the square, the street lights came one. Illuminating the bench that the man was sitting on. Sitting on the balcony he was reading a novel by Antonio Tabucchi The Missing Head of Damasceno Monteiro.  He listens to her  turning over in her sleep. He relaxes into his chair listening and reading pages of the novel, between pages he looks down. Sometimes he saw people approach the man on the bench but he dismissed them with a wave of his arm.  Eventually another man sat down next to him and they started talking about something, poetry perhaps, their wives or most likely work he thought. The man looked up and seemed to be looking at him on the balcony for the first time. Their eyes crossed, the man looking up at him saw he was lit from behind. He didn't know anyone in Paris, apart from his pregnant wife in bed behind him. He could hear her moving in the room behind him pouring a glass of water, looking at him through the window before going back to bed.  What were the men on the bench waiting for he wondered. He was casually watching the cafe on the corner when a man left it carrying a bag of food and some cartons, he was walking slowly a little unsteadily when he realized it was a woman dressed in dark suit with black ankle boots and a brown teeshirt like garment underneath the jacket. She stopped by the bench and handed them the drink cartons, coffee he thought and some trays of food, tapas or bento boxes he thought. He watched them talk for a while. They became more animated,  perhaps because of the woman he thought, gestures of appropriation and perhaps something akin to recognition.  There was some gesturing towards the hotel they were staying in. Some of the gestures from the woman seemed to suggest bravado as if to affirm that they could do it... Look they are up there, there are only two of them we should do this now. He imagined she was saying. The original man made a grasping gesture telling them to calm down. Perhaps to wait until the square was darker. Shrouded in anti-photons, sufficient to hide their actions from the surveillance systems in the square.

Hey, she said behind him from the bed.  He stands up and goes into the room, she is sitting up and looking a little less pale now. She is smiling, and says she is feeling better now. Still a little tired, her hand resting on her swollen stomach. She doesn't look sick any longer just pregnant. It's ok he tells her, do you want to sleep some more ? I think I'll have a shower, and we can eat something downstairs afterwards. He goes over and touches her shoulder, her hair. Handing her the bathrobe from the sofa. The sound of running water, whoosh. whoosh. She thought about how they had become these people, surrounded by the institutions of the state, originally she'd imagined it as a binary system (state -- war machine) and that she had left her place in the state machine and become a war machine with him, but it was plain now that so many competing interests surveilled them, that it required a more complex model, she drew the triangular model on the bathroom mirror with lipstick. From within the stream of the rain shower she looked at the diagram and tried to remember what she had been like as a warrior for the sovereign or had she been an assassin for the producer ? She wasn't sure that in any sense she could know her old self, she wondered as she stroked her pregnancy in the hot water.  The triangular model does work better than the binary adaption. She thought of him in the bedroom, with the usual moment of desire. Only he generates that sense of desire, because only he exists in the war machine with me. These days too many people would have to die if I went out of exile. Fortunately nobody in the world could see her expression...

He went out onto the balcony and looked down at the street, recognizing one of the Thursday men walking down the street besides the hotel.  The man waved making a grasping gesture, a hello sign, not of friendship but of recognition. He waved at him leaning over the balcony and noticed the bench was now empty. The three people vanished. Picked up his book from the chair and went back into the room. Pulling the shutters  closed behind him, leaving the doors pen to let the cool air through the slats. The noise of the city in the growing dark echoing in. The thought of having to tell his wife about the people he'd seen slightly annoyed him. They were on their honeymoon after all, and you just want to left alone with your partner, with space and time to be alone with them. The sound of the hairdryer running from the bathroom. He sighed and remembered that they were never alone anymore,  that something or a person was always surveilling them.  She came out of the bathroom, naked beneath the open bathrobe her hair dry. She got dressed and suggested they go downstairs to eat.

[They went downstairs in the lift, she held his hand, her face as bleak and observant as always. He thought he was probably smiling enough for both of them. She liked the Yoshi dress, it was a soft grey fabric with a red satin lightening bolt shape from her left shoulder down to her right hip, mirrored on the back.  In the lift as she adjusted her leather short coat.  She looked  so desirable he thought that he might die.  She shook her head.  “ Really you are hopeless.” “I don’t understand what it is. Not really.”  She was still hugging him when the lift doors opened on the first floor/mezzanine. “ I do so it doesn’t matter...”  They were alone amongst the surveillance.]

After they ordered some food she got up from the table and went to the bar, talking with the barman and ordered something for him and walked back to the table.  I almost wish this dress wasn’t a pregnancy dress it’s so nice. She told him and continues talking with him about being so tired this afternoon. Perhaps we shouldn’t have come, it's probably all too much. She smiles, I don't know, I like the hotel. It’s nice here and we can only  travel because we cannot run at the moment. Her hand touching her stomach. People were looking at them as guests in hotels do. The woman stretched, her arms emerging from the sleeves of the dress.  A Japanese man, who had spent the week expecting and receiving obsequious behavior from the hotel staff, froze on seeing her as he was sitting down at his table with the other people on his negotiating team.  Hesitantly he straightened up and walked over to her table and bowed to her.  She scarcely even looked at him,  gestured dismissively, looked at him and told him to go away. He looked horrified and hurried back to his table. The people at his table asked him if he was all right. After a few seconds one of the other Japanese men who were sitting together in a booth by the bar left his two colleagues and walked over to the man and spoke to him quietly.  “He is the son of a friend of my father.” She explained to her husband. “ I have learnt not to be polite to them since living with you...” “I think we will be terrible parents...” He said to her.  She shook her head. “I don't think so, I dream of killing my father so compared to mine I think we’ll be like angels. It's an experimental activity after all. ”  "Änd him?" He asked as the drinks she had ordered arrived.  "Not a criminal, one of the sons of an oligarchic business friends... " The man who'd gone over to the table to speak to the man,  nodded to them as he passed. They talked about the wedding, and began to talk about what they were going to do next week and when the baby arrived. They decided that they would return home early, the day after tomorrow...

They stayed in Paris another night before traveling back on the train. 

[goldngguk]

limerence // 01

warnings // yandere behavior, strong language, fluff 

word count // 2.1k

"You'll come to find that the terms obsession and addiction go hand to hand in psychology. Often times they are used as synonyms for one another."

Jimin sat in the back of the room, twirling his pencil between his fingers as he inwardly groaned. He couldn't stress enough how boring this class was. His teacher, Mr. June, was old and was constantly trying to act young and cool, which only made things worse. His textbook made next to no sense, and the assignments were poorly designed. In other words, Jimin hated psychology.

He slumped down in his desk, watching the seconds tick by causing him to roll his eyes. Oh, this is agonizing. Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Alright, now that we've finished unit two, it's time to discuss your next paper." Crickets. "It's the most important grade you'll receive in this class." Nothing. Mr. June sighed. "It's not due until May."

It seemed as if the whole class was alive again. Even Jimin's ears perked up. What could be so important about a paper that it would take an entire semester to complete?

"Your task is to observe someone outside of this class for three months. On May 3rd, you will turn in a paper that analyzes your subject as well as required notes to prove you actually did the work. Trust me, I can tell when someone just pulls a paper about their imaginary friend out of thin air." Sure you can. "You have to prove that you were actually watching your subject. I'll pass out the rubrics."

Jimin grabbed the paper from the man, flashing him a toothy smile that he met with his own. Jimin didn't even have to try, really. He was just one of those people who everyone adored. He could probably pass the class without even writing a sentence for the stupid paper. In fact, Jimin could probably get away with just about anything.

Mr. June dismissed the class and Jimin gathered his things and left the lecture hall. "Hey, Jimin! Wait up!"

Taehyung, Jimin's best friend and roommate who had joined the class with him, jogged up. "What do you think about this," he asked, waving the rubric in his hand.

Jimin just shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I don't really have an interest in it."

Taehyung nodded. "Don't you think it's a little creepy? I mean, we're supposed to stalk- sorry, observe someone for three months and then analyze them like an experiment? What the hell is that?"

Jimin chuckled at him. "He didn't say you couldn't tell. Just ask someone for their permission. Otherwise, yes. Essentially, we are stalkers now."

"Who are you gonna watch?"

"I'm not sure yet. Like I said, I'm not really that interested in it."

"Oh well, I'm sure you'll find someone. Damn. It sounds like I'm giving you dating advice."

"Please, if anyone needs advice about girls, it's you."

Taehyung scoffed as they reached the front doors of the campus. "Do you have another class?"

"No, not today, but I was gonna head up to the library and get some work done. I'll see you later."

"Ok. I'll see you at home." He stopped in his tracks before turning back to Jimin. "And for the record, I don't need help with girls."

"Oh please. I know exactly who you're going to watch and you'll end up stalking her because you can't even say one word to her without choking on your own tongue. You need serious help."

"I- fine. But I can't help it! Taylor makes me nervous."

"Goodbye, Tae." Taehyung started for his car as Jimin made his way to the library upstairs. Sitting down at a table in the back, he pulled out his books with the intent of focusing on anything but the paper.

-

Jimin couldn't focus. No specific reason. He just could not focus. Maybe he wasn't in the right headspace. He packed up his things after deciding he'd probably get more done at home. He stepped outside, the cold air hitting his slightly puffy cheeks.

Keep in mind, it was January, so he probably could have been more cautious. But if he had, he wouldn't have met you, now would he?

Jimin crossed the street between campus and the parking lot when he fell; both literally and figuratively. He slipped on a patch of ice and his legs flew up from underneath him. He landed on his back. Hard.

"Oh my god! Are you alright?"

Someone rushed over to him, putting their hand on his back as they crouched down. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was- just-..." Oh wow.

Pretty was an understatement. Beautiful fell short. Stunning was nothing compared to the girl kneeling by his side. Now, maybe it was the fact that he'd nearly hit his head and his tailbone felt like it was on fire, but jesus christ, how the hell could someone look so... so perfect. She wore a puffy black coat with a beanie that helped frame her magnificent face. She had strong features. He probably would've been intimidated if it weren't for the fact that he was fatally attracted to her. The mittens she had on were far too large to be her actual hand size. She looked absolutely adorable. She smiled down at him, the tip of her nose pink from frostnip. "Come on, she said. "Let's get you on your feet." She helped him dust the snow off his back before looking up at him. She was shorter than him, making him feel manly despite the hard fall he just took. "It's Jimin, right?" He looked into her eyes. Such pretty eyes. His textbook says that eyes are the windows to the soul, in which case she is warm and soft. Innocent.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me." He smiled back at her.

Jimin was not what'd you'd call 'a lady's man', but he knew what to do and what to say. He wasn't the kind of person who got nervous. Besides, everyone loved him. He could charm the pants off anyone.

"That was quite the fall you had there. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks. You know my name?"

"Yeah. I've seen you around campus before. I figured everyone kinda just knows who you are."

"Well, I don't know who you are. What's your name? And you have to tell me, seeing as how you just saved me. Otherwise, I'll just have to go find out." She giggled as if he were joking.

"I didn't save you, I was just making sure you were okay."

"Whatever you say, hero." She laughed again. It was very quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds. It was high pitched, but not too high or squeaky. There was a perfect balance to it. One that he appreciated.

"I'm Y/n," you said while extending your hand for him to shake. He took it, wishing he could feel the soft skin concealed under the wool mitt. He would compare the sizes of your hands, hoping yours would be somewhat smaller than his own.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. How come I've never seen you around before?"

"I'm not really someone who lives to be seen. I just come to class and go to work." He liked that. Not someone who likes to be seen. Every girl he'd ever dated was the life of the party; they demanded everyone's attention and it exhausted him. Y/n was the opposite. She was kind and quiet. Someone he could take care of, someone to shelter. And that excited him. If he was being honest, he'd always wanted someone for himself. Someone he alone could love and protect and he would never have to share. Almost like an animalistic instinct he tended not to dwell on, or rather one he just hadn't picked up on yet.

It dawned on him that there was no way this was a coincidence. First, there had been the paper about analyzing someone outside of his class. Then he couldn't focus in the library which led him to slip on the ice and fall right into her arms. It was at that moment he decided: he needed to see you again, had to get to know you. You were his person; his subject. He was going to observe you.

"Well, I should get going. I have to be at work in an hour."

"Oh." Jimin started to panic. If he let you go now, there was no way he'd see you again. He needed to find out more about you if he was going to use you for his paper topic, and eventually a whole lot more. "Um. Before you go, could you at least give me your number?"

She tilted her head to the side in a teasing manner, lips parting. "Why would you need that," she smiled. He chuckled, smirking as he shifted his gaze to his feet. Y/n pulled out her phone from her coat pocket. "Here. Give me yours. This way you can repay me for saving you." He handed her his phone while grabbing hers, typing his contact in as 'the cute clutz'. She hummed at the nickname.

She waved goodbye to him as he called out, "I do plan on thanking you, by the way!"

"Looking forward to it!"

He was in.

-

Jimin raced home, tossing his stuff on his bed and dashing for his laptop. He pulled up your contact on his phone, praying you had put your last name instead of a cute nickname. Damnit. Just Y/n. Plan B. He went onto the campus website and searched for a student directory. Typing in your first name, he found fourteen other Y/ns listed. He clicked on each individual profile and waited for the picture to appear. After a couple of minutes, he struck gold.

Campus Profiles:

Y/n L/n

Age: 21

Major: Pre Med

Email: y/nl/n@gmail.com

That was all the information he needed to be able to find you everywhere else. He added the email to your contact and began looking for you on every platform he could think of.

Your Instagram was public, which he chuckled at. Oh, sweetheart. Don't you know it's dangerous to leave your accounts available for anyone to see? He considered whether he should wait until he knew you personally before following you or not. Inevitably, he pressed the follow button and requested to be notified every time a post was made. Facebook was next, which wasn't any harder. Then twitter and snapchat. It was almost too easy, due to the fact that you used the same username for everything. He learned about your family, your closest friends and past relationships, where you worked, your likes and dislikes, favorite music genres, favorite food, etc. Basically, any detail he could think of was written somewhere on one of your profiles. He got so lucky. He wrote down everything he thought was noteworthy. After all, Professor June did say he needed to prove he was doing his work.

Now, he really did mean to just be your friend. All of this was just to get close to you so he could complete this stupid paper. But it was like Mr. June was saying in his lesson. Addiction and obsession are essentially the same things; once you're in, you can't get out. And Jimin was in. He just didn't know it yet.

previous // masterlist // next

a.n. // Oof I am so beyond excited for this series!! I'm not sure how long it will be yet or when exactly I will post new chapters, I'm just kinda going with the flow. Please let me know what you think, I would love to hear from you! Also, if you would like to be added to my taglist, just ask! And don't forget to go check out my Jungkook series: Trilogy! -Kay 💕

taglist // @kalisica @darkdragonskies @chinkbihh

[reihimura]

hey remember that todoroki himiko fic i’m working on? yeah i just finished writing a scene from it that i’ve been wanting to write for a while... please tell me what you think and if anyone is ooc or something (especially himiko since i haven’t caught up on bnha since the 1a vs 1b training arc and i’m going off of my limited knowledge of all the himiko backstory/development we got) this part of the fic will likely be adjusted/fixed later on but i just wanna know how people are feeling about this fic so far

also in case anyone gets confused this fic takes place during shouto’s 3rd year at ua, so himiko is like 19 here but she was arrested at 17, so since she was a minor at that time she gets the chance to live with the todoroki’s rather than going straight to jail

anyways.... anyways... enjoy some rei and himiko bonding with a lil bit of angst

“Himiko, would you like to help me cook dinner?” Rei calls out, poking her head into the living room. The woman in question glances up from the book Fuyumi lent to her, and greets Rei with a small smile. It’s just the two of them in the house this afternoon, as Fuyumi had taken Touya to his weekly counseling session.

“Sure, what are we making?” she replies, placing her book on the coffee table in front of her before leaping to her feet. The older woman beams at her as she bounds over, noticing the familiar pep in her step.

Rei leads Himiko into the kitchen before replying, “Kinpira, per Natsuo’s request since he’s visiting tonight.”

“Yay! Natsu!” Himiko claps her hands together, excited to see the college student. Even though he typically visited every weekend, she was always happy to see him. She enjoyed his cheerful and caring personality, as well as his rather cheesy jokes.

“Mhmm,” Rei agrees as she reaches for the cutting board in the cabinet above the sink. Politely, she asks, “Could you please grab the carrots from the fridge for me?” 

Nodding enthusiastically, Himiko skips over the fridge, “Yeah!”

She reaches for the bag of fresh carrots (courtesy of Fuyumi for picking them up earlier this morning) before joining the older woman at the kitchen sink. Rei had already pulled out a cutting knife and just finished washing her hands when Himiko inquires, “Should I wash the carrots?”

“Yes, please and thank you,” Rei smiles, scooting herself and the cutting board over a bit to make room for Himiko at the sink, “You can just pass them to me when you’re done, and I’ll chop them.”

“M’kay!” Himiko says cheerily, quickly washing her own hands before getting to work. She places a carrot under the running water, and continuously turns it over for a few seconds. She then pulls it up to her face to observe it, then giving a satisfied nod at her handiwork before passing it to Rei.

The mother lightly giggles at Himiko’s antics, finding them cute and amusing. They continue like this for a few minutes, with Himiko humming a jingle she heard on TV a few days ago as she washes the carrots, and Rei smiling contently while cutting the vegetables. 

Himiko is so focused on her task that she lightly jumps when the older woman beside her gasps in pain. 

“Are you alright?!” she worriedly asks, her head whipping around to look up at Rei. She sees that she has the tip of her thumb in her mouth, along with a slight frown crossing over her face.

Rei removes her thumb from her mouth before casting Himiko a reassuring beam, “Yes, dear, I just accidentally cut my thumb. It’s not too deep, so it probably just needs a band aid-”

The older woman’s words drown out as Himiko sees the injury itself. Blood is already starting to heavily trickle out of it, and suddenly all of her senses become heightened. The scent of iron is too strong - it’s invading her nose and it’s all she can smell. Her vision becomes a cloudy red as all her eyes can fixate on in the blood pouring out. She swears she can practically hear it dripping onto the floor. 

Himiko hasn’t felt this need ever since she was arrested and thrown into that villain rehabilitation facility - the need for blood.

She doesn’t even realize she’s grasped Rei’s wounded hand until it’s inches from her face, and the mother’s concerned voice finally breaks through the barrier that separates Himiko’s mind from reality.

“Himiko?” 

The young woman in question freezes, and the horror of what she was about to just do washes over her. She was about to drink Rei’s blood - sweet, kind, nurturing Rei who agreed to take her in when no one else would. For a moment, she had wanted to become Rei. Himiko’s almost-return to the obsession she’s grown to despise makes her feel sick, causing her head to start spinning.

She rips herself away from the older woman and backs away. She barely registers Rei reaching out to her before a hazed ‘I’m sorry’ stumbles from Himiko’s mouth, and she runs out of the kitchen.

-

Himiko doesn’t know how much time has passed as she lays in her bed, hiding under the covers. Curling into herself, she tightly grips her pillow as her mind reels. She feels shame and anger towards herself for almost losing control. And here she was, thinking she had gotten better at suppressing her quirk. She had almost hurt Rei, who had been nothing but nice to her. The thought makes her feel ill, and she almost wants to cry.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Rei no longer wanted her to live with them, as well as Touya and Fuyumi and Natsuo. Hell - Shouto was already distrustful and wary of her, so he would have no problem with Himiko being thrown back into that facility. Perhaps it was for the best.

She supposes she deserves it, especially if she can’t keep her quirk in check. What if she accidentally hurt one of them next time? She knows she would never be able to forgive herself for such a thing.

A light knock on her bedroom door breaks Himiko away from her thoughts. She can hear Rei’s voice call out through the door, “Himiko? I’m coming in.”

The young woman hears the door slowly creak open, and she hides herself under the blankets even more. She’s mentally preparing for the worst, and trying to fight back the oncoming tears. She knows what words to expect, “We no longer want you with us. We’re sending you back.”

A weight settles beside Himiko on the bed, causing her anxiety to skyrocket. Her fingers curl further into her pillow as silence floats between the two women for a few moments.

Softly, she hears Rei ask, “Himiko dear, are you alright?”

Himiko almost laughs at that, but stops herself from doing so.With some bitterness to her tone, she responds with, “I should be the one asking you that.”

“Huh? Oh, my cut is fine. It’s stopped bleeding, and I disinfected it before putting a band aid on.”

Himiko shakes her head beneath the covers, but then remembers Rei can’t see her. “No, I mean-,” she momentarily pauses, and takes a shaky breath as she says, “I almost used my quirk on you.”

“It’s okay, I’m not mad at you or anything.” Rei replies instantly, and Himiko is surprised at how sincere she sounds.

Anger suddenly takes over the young woman - not towards Rei, but towards herself. “Even if you aren’t mad, I am!” she shouts, but quickly recalls that she doesn’t want to potentially scare Rei any further. So, quietly, she admits, “I’m sure the counselors and Touya told you all about my quirk and how it works, so you know it’s horrendous. I almost hurt you with it, like - like a monster.”

Silence falls between them once more, causing Himiko’s heartbeat to accelerate rapidly. This was it. Rei was going to send her away now.

Instead, however, the mother gently speaks, “I don’t think your quirk is horrendous, and I definitely don’t think you’re a monster.”

Himiko can’t help but scoff, “Yeah, well, my parents and most of society think so.”

“Just because they’re the majority doesn’t mean they’re right,” Rei says, and the younger woman can detect a sadness to her tone. Suddenly, she asks, “You know about my ex-husband, right?”

Himiko blinks, surprised the mother brought up such a subject. Of course she knew about the personal life of the former Number One Hero - Touya had told her all about it over a year ago when he still went by the name of ‘Dabi’. She absolutely despises Endeavor for how he treated some of the most caring people she’s ever met. “Yeah, he’s a fucking piece of shit.”

“Language, Himiko,” Rei gently scolds.

“Sorry.”

She can hear what sounds like Rei huffing affectionately before she speaks again, “Well, you know about his powerful fire quirk, Hellflame? It was constantly praised as ‘heroic’ and the like… but, he used it to hurt me and my children.”

Himiko falls quiet, carefully listening to the mother.

“He used it to hurt the people he was supposed to protect the most. Even though everyone said it was a quirk befitting for a hero, he still used it for evil purposes. So… that’s why I think it’s the person who’s horrendous, not the quirk. I believe that any quirk can be used for good if in the right hands.”

The young woman frowns, “But I used my quirk to hurt others too.”

“I know,” Rei replies before softly saying, “but you were misguided and hurt and so very young, and now you’re wanting to change for the better. My ex-husband is none of those things.”

Himiko thinks about how Touya had told her Endeavor ‘attempted’ to change, but it was more-so to cover his own ass since he was the Number One Hero then and in the spotlight. Behind closed doors, he was still a horror the Todoroki’s had to suffer.

“You’re not a monster with a horrendous quirk, Himiko. You’re human.”

Upon hearing those words from the only person she considers a mother figure, Himiko feels tears well up in her eyes. 

I’m… human?

Slowly, she pulls the covers down from her face to gaze up at the older woman with watery eyes. She sees Rei affectionately smiling down at her, and that causes the tears to finally spill down her cheeks.

“You… really think all of that?” Himiko quietly asks, staring up at the mother.

Rei nods, and her voice is full of nothing but honesty as she says, “I do.”

Himiko can’t control the flood of tears that begin to pour out, nor can she stop herself from throwing herself in Rei’s arms. She sobs into the older woman’s lap, and she can feel Rei gently running her fingers through her blond hair to comfort her.

All her life, Himiko had been called a multitude of feared things; monster, freak, hellspawn - she had lost count of all the labels her parents and society viewed her as. The League of Villains had never called her such things with malicious intent behind it, though they never denounced them either - they had their own problems and she didn’t grow close enough to most of them back then to open up. After nineteen years, Himiko had simply learned to live with the labels.

But now, she had been called human. And the one who said such a thing truly believed it.

“It’s okay, dear, let it all out.” Rei says soothingly.

And for the first time in her life, Himiko does.

[miraclesnail]

Will x Travis Fanfiction

a prompt from the Tumblr post: not-doing-too-good-sentence-starters

    “Whoa, are you okay?” 

  “Whoa. Are you okay?”

Ah. The three cursed words.

Travis Stoll was already not having a good day (what with the arrow protruding from his thigh and all) and now he’s about to watch his boyfriend go through what he dubbed as the 5 stages of Worry.

Stage 1. Trepeditation.

From his angle and the 10 feet separating them, Will haven’t seen his wound yet. But he got to know something is wrong. Why else would he be in the infirmary, right? Maybe he could get Will out and get a different medic to treat him… yeah, that sounds doable! Travis is a top tier actor. All those years of lying to Chiron to get out of trouble trained him in keeping the straightest face ever.

So even though his leg burns like Mrs. O'Leary been chewing on it, he smiles and waves. “Will, it’s nice to see you. How’s your day been?”

And Will, being the medical genius and master observer he is, didn’t respond. Instead, he just stares at Travis, a frown beginning to set on his face.

“You’re pale. Are you hurt?”

Alright. Time to do damage control.

Travis shifts his good leg to hide the arrow shaft better. “Yeah, sort of. But it’s nothing too big though. Don’t worry,” he says. You can’t really lie to the son of the God of Truth, but fibbing passes the radar. Fibbing will get him out of this situation.

Will narrows his eyes, stepping closer. “Okay… I don’t believe you, but okay.”

You can’t really lie to the son of the God of liars too either.

Complete honesty.

That’s a hallmark of their relationship.

It may sound nice, but it makes planning romantic surprises a total plan in the behind.

Will takes one more step towards him and freezes. His eyes widen. His fingers curl. The side of his mouth twitches.

Stage 2. Panic.

Which sounds bad, but Will has always been good at never showing panic and stage 2 is quick to go to stage 3.

Complete and utter silence.

Travis watches Will draw closer beside him. He watches Will take in the wound, eyes rolling over the makeshift camp shirt bandage (Thank you, Jason, for your sacrifice) to the shaft of the arrow protruding dead center of his thigh before rolling to him.

Boy oh boy did Will not look happy.

“I know it looks bad,” he says, watching Will’s unchanging expression. “But it really isn’t all that bad.”

“The arrow is in your femur,” Will says emotionlessly.

“But! It’s not in my vital organs so… yay?”

If the scowl on Will’s face is anything to go by… it’s not okay and it’s definitely not yay.

“Who shot you?”

“Are you going to kill them?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m not going to tell you. You’re going to med school. You can’t have a death count growing now.”

And when Will’s scowl deepens, Travis gives a beaming smile.

“Fine, I’ll get Connor to tell me then.”

Will about-face and head for his medical shelves. He’s pulling out a lot of big and scary instruments. They all seem to be variations of different sized metal tweezers. Travis hopes this is to just scare him and none will be used. Come to think of it… how is an arrow removed? God, he hopes it’s fast.

“You know,” Will says, coming back and setting his tools on the foot of the bed. “If you had just been more careful, this probably wouldn’t have happened.”

Travis groans inwardly.

The dreaded stage 4. Lectures

It’s Will’s way of offering help, of preventing any more future misfortune and it would probably help keep him out of trouble if he ever manages to recall it before he ends up hurt.

“You’re fast. The fastest person I know.”

Will snaps on his gloves.

“I have total faith you can dodge anything.”

He pulls his swivel chair up beside the bed.

“You just gotta be a bit more aware of your surrounding.”

And Will places a hand at his lumbar and chants. Immediately the pain radiating from his thigh disappears and Travis sinks back on the elevated bed in relief.

“Do you feel anything?”

“Nope!”

“Good. It’ll just take a minute for me to remove the arrow. Sit tight.”

Travis closes his eyes when Will takes out a scalpel. He has a strong stomach. Heck, he helped Will study with all the medical books spread out before them. He saw all the nasties he could ever see (frostbite, gangrene, 3rd-degree burn, lacerations, knife wounds, abrasions). And not to mention he hung around the infirmary almost half of his free time every day with Will, he seen and even helped in some freaky-deeky stuff. But seeing it done to him is something he does not need to see. A big no thank you.

“You’re not always going to be so lucky,” Will continues, “Next time, it could be in your liver.”

Travis nods, hands curling into the paper sheets.

“Or the spine.”

His heart pounds uncomfortably. Metal clinks. Priers are being open.

“What would you have done if they aimed at your face?”

He feels unbearably hot like he just ran 5 miles or when Will decides for an impromptu sleepover in his cabin and they share a bed.

“You gotta use your speed and not get hurt.”

And there’s a subtle pounding in his head and is that lightheadedness he’s feeling? Oh wait, he knows what’s going on. Will once told him that blocking the nerves don’t block his bodies’ response to the stress. The mind may not process the wound but the body still notices and it responds accordingly.

Maybe it’s trying to tell him he’s dying. Maybe it’s trying to tell him to open his eyes. Maybe it’s trying to tell him to see if Will needs help.

But if Will really needs help, he’ll say something.

So… maybe he isn’t dying. Maybe he’s just hungry. Maybe he knows dinner is in 10 minutes. Maybe he knows if he doesn’t make it on time, he’ll have a corner seat. And maybe he knows none of his siblings will be nice enough to give him an inside seat.

Which means he’s going to have to sneak onto the Apollo’s table and eat with Will. That doesn’t sound so bad! Nice going, body.

“Travis, you’re still conscious, right? You haven’t passed out or anything?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes still closed.

“I’m done. You can open your eyes now.”

He did.

And his breath hitches as Will presses his lips against his.

A hand cups his cheek, thumb resting against cheekbone and fingers curling into the back of his hair.

It took maybe one second, two, three, four seconds to realize they’re kissing — Will is — They are — he is — kissing. They’re kissing. They’re kissing and holy shit, he’s doing nothing.

And before he could do something, Will pulls away with a soft chuckle and a knowing eye. “You okay? You didn’t pass out, did you?”

“What was that for?”

There’s a smug smile on his smug face that Travis really wants to kiss again, actually kind of hoping Will will lean down again for a second round. But instead, Will pats his now patched thigh and stands with his instruments in hand and one bloodied arrow.

“Your booboo kiss. You look like you were on the verge of crying,” Will says, dumping everything into the sink and snapping his gloves into the trash. “

“I’m still on the verge of crying. You should definitely come back here and soothe my pain.” Travis swings his legs off the bed, but Will is by his side in a second and hefting his legs back up onto the bed.

“Ohohoho, no, you’re not leaving yet.” That tone… that little disapproving glare… oh, crap, stage 5. Mother hen.

Travis tries for a convincing, easy-going grin. “Will, I’m fine. I don’t feel anything at all. See?” And he held up his arms.

But Will didn’t give, only lifting an eyebrow. “Just like that time you didn’t notice the 3rd-degree burn on your arm? I’m sorry, Travis, but you’re not the most observant person out there.”

He got me . And Travis sinks back into the infirmary bed, pouting and crossing his arms. “We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“Connor will get us leftovers,” Will says, gentle fingers grazing along the body, torso, calves, and elsewhere.

Travis pouts further. His boyfriend and brother are teaming up against him. This is what he gets for making sure Will get along well with his brother. Maybe he shouldn’t help Will get along with his half brothers and sisters. Who knows what’ll happen.

Then a remarkable idea hit Travis like a brick.

“Will.”

“Hm?” Will didn’t glance up, so focused on his task, just like he knows he would.

“Look at me. I have something to show you.”

And when Will looks towards him, Travis leans forward and kisses him.

Will snorts, eyes rolling, but obliges and sits down on the bed and kiss him back.

The second kiss is just as nice as the first. Travis could almost say it was  perfect if it weren’t for his brother entering the infirmary, snapping a picture, exiting, and then yelling for the whole world to hear,

“Travis isn’t dead. He’s just making out with Will. I win. Everybody owes me $10!”

[6-weeks-in-nicaragua]

11 Febrero

It’s been a minute–a lot has happened since las iglesias! I’m alive and well. Knock on wood but so far no explosive diarrhea, no homesickness, no lost passport, no funky encounters... todo bien!

A quick update and then I’m going to just throw a bunch of random experiences, thoughts, and pictures I’ve accumulated over the past 4 or so days cause I have no way of keeping track of it all–so many things happen every day...

UPDATE: Estoy solo en Nicaragua y estoy manejando.

Both Noel and Lorena have gone stateside temporarily. Everybody is okay - no se preocupen. This leaves me alone, but not entirely. A friend of Lorena’s, Noelia, is going to help take care of Toto and may, in fact, even stay in the house part-time or full-time. So we’re all good! Noel left a few days ago and I took Lorena to the airport today. If I remember, I’ll tell you about my first driving adventure later! Anyhow, things were a bit crazy as these plans were all being made–hence the lack of posting. So here we go...

LAS HORMIGAS

These ants live at the Choco Museum and I like them. What I don’t like are the zancudos (mosquitos). They seem to be getting worse with the drier/hotter weather. I’m not sure why but they’re lovin’ my ankles and shoulders. 

IT’S THE 1ST OF THE MONTH

On the first Monday of the month, there was an incredible line outside of the bank–the longest line I’ve seen in Nicaragua by far. It turns out that it’s all the retired people collecting their pension. 

EL PEREZOSO TUVO EXITO

En fin, yo aprendí que significa la phrase–Tener exito–to succeed. That’s my ‘word’ of the week along with Perezoso–both the adjective lazy and the word for a sloth. 

I stumbled upon this beautiful block. On the left is La Fortaleza, an old fort that may have future plans but, for the time being, is closed to the public although apparently some private/government soirees are thrown there too. I was mostly, however, drawn to those 4 casitas. Que linda, verdad?!

MASA

I had my first Nacatamal of the trip. This is a Nicaraguan tamale, but truly a league beyond a tamale. They’re typically made and consumed on weekends only. There’s a panadería nearby called Doña Haydee (?), y hace nacatamals de pollo y de cerdo. They are only available Fri-Sun until they run out. 

Arleen told me that they use fake masa here in Granada for their tortillas. No usan maza reál en Granada. Solo puede comprar en Masaya. En general, por allá la gente son más trabajadores, más creativo, y más educado. I think somebody might have a grudge against Granada folks... But I have now heard from multiple people that Masaya is indeed a culinary mecca for Nicaragua. We’d gone once but only to see the market, which is well known for its plethora of quality goods. Pues, vamos a comer en Masaya! 

LA EDUCACION

Arleen and I continue to discuss various issues. As we sat in the Cathedral and interpreted the new paintings on the ceiling (Noah’s Ark, Abraham and Isaac(?), Exodus, etc.), we shifted back to education. As she was talking about public and private schools, it sounded like she was arguing that there was little to no value in public school education–textbooks that are 20+ years old, lack of textbooks and other materials, etc. So I asked her if she’d rather not send her boy to school than to a public school. She laughed but agreed that for her, it was no choice. She and her husband (an engineer) do, and would, sacrifice what they would need to, in order to send him through private school. And even a private school is limited. She described the amount of work that parents (moms) have to do to supplement the school education. Ultimately, we agreed that she had a nearly full-time job of being a teacher to her son. She studies with him, draws up her own exercises for him and even her own exams. 

4:30pm is a really cool time to be out and about. All of the students are getting out of school and, with their uniforms, seemingly take over the streets. I wish I had a picture to share. 

WILLIAM WALKER

We also talked about William Walker. This is the umpteenth time I’ve heard William Walker but was never quite sure why. His name came up one night the guys were arguing about the political crisis. Now I have a vague understanding of why. Essentially, with his own army he marched down Central America, pillaging, pirating, and claiming ownership over land. He would take natural resources (e.g. stones, minerals) and sell them in Europe. This was in or around the 1850′s. And thus began the American involvement in Nicaragua. 

XALTEVA

The name of one of the local tribes was Xalteva. As we watched a couple groups of musicians and dancers performing traditional songs and dances (who are contracted by the Tourism office to perform when buses of tourists are scheduled to arrive via Costa Rica or Panama for the day), I asked if this was rooted in Xalteva culture. No. She said the folkart comes from colonial times and is a result of the mix of Inios, Españoles, y Afro-Carribeans. I am excited to read El Gueguense because I think I’ll have a better understanding of all this after. But in a nut shell, much of the traditional arts are rooted in the dissent of Colonialism–’secret’ songs and dances of empowerment that snuck through the eyes and ears of the Spanish imperialists. I think that’s incredible!

COST COMPARISON

As I prepare to be alone, I stopped by the Maxx Pali (a grocery outlet, more or less) and picked up some bare essentials. The Protex is a bar of oatmeal soap. The cereal was the healthiest I could find. And the silver plastic bag is known as chile. It’s spicy pickled chopped onions - by far the best condiment in the world! $15 total. Somehow they only charged me 1 córdoba (1/32.6 of a dollar) for the floss, I’m guessing that means it’s not a very popular product... 

DRIVING IN MANAGUA

That was the name of the first book I read about Nicaragua ahead of my first trip in 2015. It’s amazing and I highly recommend it, although the caveat is that it’s about a white guy living/traveling in Nicaragua written by the white guy himself. But his observations are quite acute and I easily relate to some of them. 

So my sense of direction proved helpful. I was able to navigate around town, to Managua, to the airport, back to Tia Karla’s house, back to Granada. BUT I NEARLY GOT CRUSHED BY A BUS! So Nicaragua prefers roundabouts to traffic signals. I have no problem with that. But there aren’t really any lanes so it’s a bit of a free-for-all. And it’s legal for one on the inside line to leave the roundabout, thus cutting off anyone on the outside. I was nervous about these and during our drive to Managua today, asked Lorena a million hypothetical questions. We went through a few to practice, and all was good. But I still imaged these hypothetical situations and didn’t understand how to avoid them.

So after giving myself a pat on the back for navigating from the airport, to Karla’s, and back to Calleterra Masaya (the hwy) - I was going through the roundabout to enter the highway. I was in the circle, thus establishing the right of way from cars not yet in the circle. I passed the first turn. I passed the second turn. And as I was nearing the third, a bus was approaching the circle at a high speed. Now, so far, I’ve learned to the key to a safe ride is to drive defensively in an aggressive manner. So I dared not stop in the middle of the circle. I held my breath and continued past the 3rd street as the bus entered the circle. It was now my turn to bear right out of the circle and I needed to cut off the bus (but it’s not cutting off, I have the right of way). So I kept on holding my breath and zoomed by with the bus zooming lord knows many millimeters behind me. Had he hit me, I think he would have pushed me into the guardrail and I probably would have gone over the guardrail and down a couple stories onto the highway below...

Driving feels like a video game. A lot of veering one way and the next. Dodging people, bicycles, motorcycles, horses, buses, taxis, etc. It’s like Frogger but reversed. There are a million frogs crossing and you’re the car trying to make it from pt. a to pt. b without hitting or getting hit by one. It’s fun and exhilarating but it’s also real life. 

END ON A GOOD NOTE

This is part of Noelia’s patio. I absolutely love it! Nadessa arrives tomorrow for a week so I gotta get some rest. 

Estoy apreciado de tú y tú y todos. Buenas Noches!

[cyclinglegs]

I’ve doe it, after years of thinking about it, and talking about it, I’ve finally bitten the bullet. I’ve signed up for a French cyclotour in June with local outfit Unique Cycling Tours

I don’t think I’ve quite gotten my head around it yet, but having the opportunity to ride some of the climbs we see on TV is mind blowing. How about these apples.

MONT VENTOUX

ALPE D’HUEZ

COL DU GLANDON

CROIX DE FER

TELEGRAPHE

GALIBIER.

http://www.uniquecyclingtours.com/provence-and-french-alps/

There’s still some available spots if you’re interested.

Indian Pacific Wheel Race

They got off to a flying start on Saturday morning over in Freo, and as I sit here on Tuesday evening, there are 10 riders already in South Australia.  The front runner Kristof Allagaert is setting an incredible pace, having ridden 1,829km since Saturday morning.  Thats something like 82 hours somewhere around the 22 km/hr, thats not even allowing for any stoppage. Incredible stuff.

One of brilliant features of this race is the use and spread of social media covering this race. The event organiser , Jesse Carlsson, who unfortunately had to withdraw from the race on Sunday, in partnership with some prominent players in Aistralia including Cycling Tips and Curve Cycling, have been huge supports of social media around this event. Some of the features include:

Rider tracking – you can sit at your phone and watch the riders track across Australia, live. I’m not sure of the accuracy, but the tracking shows the riders barely metres apart, all withing the “No-Drafting” rules of course, incing their way across Australia. You can see when they stop, where they stop, and who’s sleeping with who. Have a look here. Indian Pacific Wheel Race Map Progress

Status Updates – Regular updates and photos on the IPWR Facebook Site Facebook – IndianPacificWheelRace

Rider interviews – Regular spot interviews by IPWR on their Facebook site. This feature really brings to the fore the character of the riders, their humor, the trials and tribulations as the days slowly go by.

And then there’s this one from South Australian Davin Harding. His character and dry wit shine through.

Rider Facebook and Instagram sites. Riders are regularly posting either themselves when they get a chance or have a support team posting on their behalf.

James Raison

Mike Hall

Kristof Allegaert

Sarah Hammond

Jackie Bernardi

The rider social edia sites can be accessed through the rider profile on the tracking tool.  Click on the rider name and the profile will pop up, giving sponsor names, social media addresses etc

Rider Sponsor Facebook and Instagram updates such as

Curve Cycling

Sportful

Rapha

Ben Rides

Apologise for the many I’ve missed.

It would be good to see mainstream media get behind these hard core athletes, the nation needs to see what these guys are doing.

And us, we should be doing everything we can to support the riders as they pass through our hometown, so track them as they come in and get out there and give them some moral support.

3 Peaks

Funny thing about the Peaks Challenge Falls Creek. After the months and months of training (remembering i only went for the weekend, i didn’t ride the bloody thing), planning, donuts, coffee and the like, the weekend went by so bloody quickly it almost feels as if it didn’t happen. But happen it did. Its an extraordinary weekend, a lads weekend away, but when you peel away the layers, its much much more. Each rider taking part has a books worth of stories in their personal struggles to get to the line, let alone ride it.

I mentioned a few posts back a gentlemen called Paul, a strong rider who last year was found bent over his bike with 2 km’s to go, suffering stroke like symptoms and unable to finish.  Unfortunately, and fortunately at the same time, he recognised the same symptoms again and chose to withdraw from the ride. Sorry to hear this news Paul, but very glad you made the right decision.

I’ve been to Falls Creek 5 times now, helped with the training for each, and am happy to report that of the 25 attempts over these 5 years, attempts where the rider actually crossed the start line, we’ve had 25 completions. There were some doubts we would achieve that, particularly as there was doubt over JK’s hamstring, something he tore about 5 weeks out, something which curtailed an already compromised training program.  Bugger us all, he did it. This guy has an  unbelievable ability to push through the mental barriers and finish against the odds.

Sitting back as a casual observer for the 3rd time this year, I was ecstatic not only seeing each of the riders in our group cross the line, but standing down at the finish line the emotions etched across the faces of each and every rider crossing the line gave only a hint if what was going through their minds, but I felt an outsider walking through finishers on the other side of the line. The looks of euphoria, pain banished, exultation, relief, disbelief scrawled across the faces was something to behold.  That was an extraordinarily hard ride to finish. I rode down to Anglers rest with a mate on the Saturday. I’d forgotten how painful that ride back up is.  My mate was tackling it for the first time.  He’s in awe of the 3peakers finishing that ride with 200km in their legs. Same here. Well done to all who completed.

On a finishing note, a couple of successes at both ends of the spectrum.

John C  was a welcome blow-in to the group, a friends friend who had set himself a sub-9 target.  JC had put the training in and was confident, but also very focused, quiet and a little withdrawn. JC rode a sub 9 ride and was understandably wrapped with the result.  At dinner on Sunday night we almost couldn’t shut him up.  Well done JC.

At the other end, Hack, who similarly came in as a friend of a friend last year but with an interrupted training regime last year, came in this year with with a few more laps under the belt, hit WTF approx before the cutoff time, beat the Trap Yard gate closure, but struggled across the top, ended up with flat batteries on his from light, and ended up getting the support of a motorcycled marshal who shone his headlights in front of Hack and another rider to help them cross the line, albeit after the 13 hour cutoff. Suffering hypothermia, Hack was taken to the medical centre for an hour or so before being released. He ended up crossing the apartments threshold to the supporting appreciative roar of our group, wide smile on his dial, pretty much summed up the weekend.

Well done all, it was a pleasure to spend the weekend with you.

A few pictures from my trip below.

Sagan has ridden La Classicissima 7 times now, with two seconds, and two fourths. Saturday was his 78th second place of his career. Imagine if just a few of those had been victories

Lakes Cycling Shoes – Lake MX 237

Before Christmas i bought a pair of Lake MTB 237 shoes, the old road shoes were falling apart, and to be honest, I was looking at buying some cx/mt shoes for my gravel road riding, and the occasional possible cross race (tbc), and the thought of buying 2 pairs of shoes wasn’t sitting well. I wanted some decent shoes, but didn’t want to spend a bucket load on 2 pairs.

After much deliberation, i decided to buy the one pair, a good pair, and not really worrying about riding road with mountain bike shoes. Yes they are a little heavier, but hey, I’m 50+ years old, so a few extra grams at the bottom end of town wont hurt that much.  On the upside, i dont have to worry about slipping over on those bloody slippery cleats whilst walking back to the table with a cuppa in each hand.

So, i bis pretty much the same as the CX 237 road shoe, but comes in a MTB package. Carbon sole, full leather upper and double boa fastening system. My first in all 3 categories.

Apart from the looks, the feature that grabbed me initially was their reputation for being wider than usual, and trying them on certainly didn’t disappoint.

The Boa fastening system provided comfortable but firm tightening across the top of the foot which steps up the control of the tightening that you just don’t quite get with my old ratchet and velcro fasteners.

Out on the road, it took a while to get used t the new fit. The first three to four 4 hour+ rides had me finishing up with a numbing left foot. I couldn’t quite figure it out, and it got a little disturbing for a while there, but the numbing on the longer rides eventually disappeared.

Those longer rides were during some of the hotter days, and invariably I’d turn up at home soaked in sweat and salt encrusted kit. Taking the shoes off after these sweat fests  would show black staining from the black leather. A little bit disturbing, however not permanent, the stains came out in the wash and after a while, the staining stopped happening.

Once the numbing stopped, I came to admire the shoes, they are nice and stiff when i needed them to be, but super comfortable due to their width, inside fit and the nice smooooooth supple leather. They now fit like a pair of old gloves, i hardly notice them any more, which can only be a good thing. It’s probably not surprising that I didn’t notice them at all when riding up the back of falls/WTF a few weekends back.

The upshot is that I found them well suited to flat and hilly rides either on the road and gravel. I haven’t tried them in a cx race yet, but i haven’t found any reason why they wouldnt suit. The carbon sole gives these shoes excellent power transfer characteristics, with a stiff feeling under even the hardest out-of-the-saddle pedaling efforts like WTF, whilst still maintaining a good amount of flex when off the bike walking around holding onto those coffees.

The rubber MTB sole is strong and looks like it will take a lot of punishment, providing plenty of clearance for those trail riding days.

All up, I would highly recommend you have a close look at the Lake shoes next time you are looking at replacing or upgrading. I’m glad i spent the little extra on some decent shoes, and also happy i chose the MTB sole, although I’m sure there would be many roadies out there that would be frowning on my choice, but hey, I just enjoy being out in the great outdoors.

Oh, I bought these shoes at the Bike Bug in Stepney, what is rapidly becoming one of my favourite lbs’s.  https://www.bikebug.com/index.php

Milan San Remo

A classic finish to this years Milan San Remo with Peter Sagan showing that he’s was the strongest rider of the day, jumping out with around a km to go, but Michal Kwiatkowski showed on the day he was a little smarter than Peter Sagan.

A brilliant finish right down to the line.

In his seventh attempt at La Classicissima, Sagan has finished second twice, and fourth twice. Sagan’s race statistics show he has ridden 558 races, won 92 races and finished on the podium 204 times. Saturday was his 78th second place of his career.

Rider of the Week – Lorne McLurg

Thats Lorne, bottom left

Lorne is a first generation Australian of Irish parents. Eldest of three children, he was born in 1971 and raised in Adelaide. He has lived and worked interstate and overseas for a few years before returning to settle down. He is married, with 3 primary school aged kids. Lorne completed an Arts degree in Geography, that never got any serious use other than in games of Trivial Pursuit.

Now, he jointly owns a Project Management Consulting business, Moto Projects, focused on larger commercial, retail and high rise residential construction projects.

Lornes first career beyond trivial pursuit was as an outdoor adventure guide, but realized the lifestyle, although fit, fun and challenging, had its limitations…mostly fiscal. He gave that away as a full time professional endeavor after 7 years and phased across into a second career as a full-time project manager.

Lorne has been riding bikes for as long as he can remember. He was one of the founding members of the FRA PowerOn team in early 2003 and has been riding ‘pretty’ consistently 2-4 times a week with the mob since then.

I can’t see myself ever stopping riding for any reason other than obviously, life and death ones! Not known for my hill climbing capability, but more so for my love of descending…. the real reason for why we climb the hills in the first place!!

How long have you been cycling?

About 44 years…. Got a trike when I was about 2 then my first real bike…a yellow dragster…when I was about 5. Not stopped riding since then.

Was a BMX bandit in the late 70’s & 80��s, as a founding member (with my siblings) of the Tea Tree Gully BMX club, raced every week from the age of 10 til about 16.

Tea Tree Gully BMX Facebook site

I discovered road bikes when I was 14 for fitness and commuting to school, then Uni and work. Got into Mountain biking after a trip to the USA in 1992 and a chance to ride the famous Slick Rock trail amongst others around Moab and the Colorado Rockies.

I got back into regular Road biking when I moved home to Adelaide in 1996 and have been riding around the beaches and hills 2-4 times a week since then.

What got you started in cycling?

Father Christmas and from there the love of the wind in my face and the freedom to cover distance and see beautiful places under my own steam and at my own pace

How many bikes do you own and what is your main go to bike?

3, a new Canyon Ultimate SLX 9.0 purchased in Feb 2017 is the go to at the moment. I have a Specialized SWorks Tarmac SL4 currently having some carbon repairs done on it and a Specialized Crave SL 29er MTB (Single Speed) that is my go to for rides with the kids and when the weather is crap.

What bike do you covet?

I’ve been lucky enough recently to build up the bike of my dreams. The Canyon with SRAM Etap, Zipp 303 NSW’s, Garmin Edge 820 is about as good as it gets I think.

How do you store your bikes?

Mostly in the house. The MTB lives in the shed with the wife and kids bikes and the roadies live in the house where I can get at them easily for the early morning before work rides!

  Do you do all your own maintenance or do you use a LBS? If so, which one?

I do most of my own simple stuff, but when time is limited or it’s a bit trickier then Anthony Mezzini at Elbows Akimbo or Pete at BMC are my go to gurus.

What cycling specific tools do you have in your “bike shed”?

I’ve accumulated lots of little gadgets over the years. My favorites currently are my ParkTools torque driver and ParkTools workstand.

What is your favourite piece of cycling kit or accessory?

My Garmin 820. Love how it uploads straight to Strava and does live segments to help keep me honest….and my new bright blue Shimano Sphyre RC9 shoes.

What do you love about cycling?

The camaraderie of cycling with my bunch. Politically incorrect banter and the gentle push to ride more and faster, that comes with riding with a bunch of mates… that and the beer! Ride Bikes, Drink Beer, PowerOn being one of our motto’s

What annoys most about cycling?

Idiot riders who don’t show simple understanding and respect to other road users, who antagonize drivers, chase fame through social media and thus give all cyclists a bad name. It shouldn’t be that hard to ‘treat others as you want them to treat you’

Other than yourself, who is your favourite cyclist?

Peter Sagan…he’s the all-round cyclist.

If you could have dinner with 3 people in the cycling world, who would they be and why?

With a biased agenda, because I have a strong and independent daughter who I want to see having access to equal and sustainable opportunity and income – Rochelle Gilmore to discuss the challenges and opportunities in Women’s cycling and strategize how to raise it to par with the men’s league, Rob Arnold to further the discussion on how to raise women’s cycling to par with the men’s league on the basis that it’s all in the media power to do so, and Nick Green to discuss the role Australia’s peak body needs to play in developing and supporting cycling and in particular Women’s Cycling.

Where would you take them to eat?

Chianti Classico – Can’t go past a good feed of Rabbit

What are your craziest/fondest cycling memories?

Riding the burbs for hours on end with my BMX bandit mates, jumping and skidding our way down the streets and through the parks and creek reserves, getting muddy, scraped and bruised, every weekend and loving it!

Have you had any nasty crashes? If so how did the worst occur and what was the consequence?

Had my fair share. Too many to remember them all. Used to average one car hit a month when I was a bike commuter in London in the mid 90’s. Most recent nasty was being hit from behind at the finish line of a Vets Crit, by some numpty who had their head down sprinting for 20th. I hit the pavement at about 45Kph and busted 3 ribs and punctured a lung. Put me off the bike for 6 weeks.

What is your favourite post ride coffee/tea spot, and what would you normally buy as a treat?

Cibo King William Road – Been going there since it opened. Grande Flat White being my usual. Sometimes accompanied by a piece of Banana Bread….not that my gut needs it!

Do you have a favourite overseas country in mind you’d love to take your bike to?

Would love to take the Roadie and MTB back to France. Did a lot of snowboarding, rock-climbing and mountaineering there, but didn’t have the space to take the bike so would love to go back just to ride. Such awesome terrain to adventure in and the descents…breathtaking for someone like me who loves going down.

What is your favourite local training route?

Windy point to Belair, then up through the National Park via Saddle Hill Rd and on up to Crafers and back into town via the old freeway. A perfect 1.5 hr outing for me and can be done before work and herding children begins in the morning.

What is the biggest cycling lie you have told a partner?

Probably the same one’s we all try to get away with…I’ve had that ‘new piece of kit’ for ages!

What cycling related thing would you like for your next birthday?

More dope socks as I need to keep on top of my games in that department.

Is there a local cycling outfit/company/cycling club/cycling group/person that you would like to plug?

Elbows Akimbo. Anthony is a very thorough bike fitter and mechanic and generously supports our team.

Do yourself a favour and get a bike fit from him. Amazing how it can help your comfort and power

From a non-cycling perspective, what do you love about Adelaide?

I love the small city / big Country town environment. Its something we need to learn to celebrate and not condemn. Having lived and visited many cities around the world, I know we have it good here. Naysayers should try living the same lifestyle they enjoy here in Europe or Asia…unless you have a few $Mill a year in income, you’ll be very sadly disappointed.

What is your go to place when interstaters come to Adelaide?

I think the go to ride for visitors to Adelaide has to be Old freeway, over Lofty, across through Uraidla to Deviation Rd, back along Loby Rd to Basket Range, Ashton then across to Marble Hill and down Montacute and back to the city for Coffee in Vardon Place.

Is there anything else you feel like talking about?

I think I’ll have bored everyone enough by now!

Not all all Lorne, a pleasure to hear from you, love the early day BMX bandit storys, although I can’t quite get the image of you with Nicole Kidman style hair out of my head.

  Till next time

tight spokes

iPib

Race Across Australia – IPWR I've doe it, after years of thinking about it, and talking about it, I've finally bitten the bullet.