#and in my head matt would try to break lawson

[disneyprincemuke]

wasted like all my potential * fem!driver

jury's out: everything officially fucking sucks

pairings: liam lawson x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: again i apologise for this taking so long apparently now that I'm kinda mentally no longer struggling with a 12k assignment, I've lost all feels to hurt rocky but no woRRIES IT'S COMING TO AN END SOON

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

just another day listening to her team explaining another change to the car and another day where she hopes that it all works out in her favour.

she glances out the window of the meeting room, finding the usual corner that’s typically occupied by matt, still empty. she sinks in her seat and folds her arms over her chest as she desperately tries to dial herself back into the meeting.

she catches liam’s eye across the table, the kiwi lifting his eyebrows with a small nod to acknowledge her. she smiles tiredly at him before sucking in a deep breath and returning her gaze to the empty table in front of her.

it’s just another weekend where she tries to save both her and the team’s faces. how long can she keep up the act of having things together in front of the media?

something’s gotta give.

when the meeting ends, she simply picks herself up and is the first one out of the room. sebastian, who’d been sitting next to her, simply sighed to himself as she walked out.

it’s been so difficult to get a grasp of her lately. it’s not just something only he’s noticed, it’s happening to everybody else in the team. since they’d touched down at the airport for the race weekend, it’s even a miracle to get her attention for 5 minutes.

she’s always reserved or simply preferred her own company.

it’s apparent with every single person she interacts with. the girl used to be able to uphold a conversation by her talking alone, but now everything’s minimal. conversations never last more than a minute and she’s always found in her driver’s room by herself.

at first, he concluded that she was unhappy with him. which, would be perfectly fine, seeing the current state of her race weekends. he’s more shocked that she hasn’t blown up in front of him yet.

not a single scream, an utter of frustration… not even a tear shed in half a year and truthfully, it’s almost worrying.

“you’ve got to tell her before she finds out from elsewhere,” sebastian mutters, patting liam on the back as they leave the room. “she’ll be even angrier if it doesn’t come from you.”

“have you spoken to her lately? i don’t think i’ll even get a reaction out of her,” liam whispers back, pointing at the girl walking up the stairs by herself with her head hung low. “do you have any idea how difficult it is to speak to her?”

“yes,” sebastian says with a scowl, “i literally talk to her every weekend.”

liam gives him a knowing stare. “then you should know how unreachable she is nowadays.” he pushes sebastian in the direction of the stairs. “maybe you should speak with her first before i go in there.”

sebastian scoffs, stumbling forward. he turns around and stands next to liam again. “no way. you’re not sending me in there to fight a war by myself.”

“do i really have to? can’t she just find out like everybody else if it goes through?” liam scowls with a sarcastic laugh when sebastian nods.

sebastian pushes him forward. “go and tell her before the media gets a hold of these things and leaks it before you get the chance to break the news yourself,” sebastian says. “let’s not cause a commotion where it’s not needed.”

“fine,” liam mutters, stomping a foot on the ground. he fixes his team shirt and sucks in a deep breath, trying to rehearse his lines in his head. it’s one thing to get the courage to speak to her nowadays, but being the bearer of somewhat bad news is an entirely different situation.

he takes a step forward and looks back at sebastian, throwing him a mean glare. meanwhile, the older man just flashes him a bright smile and an encouraging nod.

he runs up the stairs and calls out to her. the girl stops and turns around. her straight face almost makes liam jump back, not expecting to be greeted so suddenly.

“yes?”

“i uh,” liam huffs and straightens his shirt, “i need to talk to you.”

she tilts her head, “is everything okay?”

liam smiles. seems like he’s caught her at a great time, which should make this slightly easier. “of course. i just need to tell you something; it’s important.”

“oh,” she raises her eyebrows and points down the hallway, “do you want to sit down and talk about it? that serious?”

he shakes his head. he just doesn’t want her to burst out at him. especially that he’s not one to know how to handle her if she breaks. “i can just tell you now,” he shrugs, making his way up the steps to meet her at the top. “but i want you to know that it’s nothing personal.”

nothing personal. so it has something to do with her? she feels her heart start to race in her chest and the room starts to spin. she bites down on her lip and starts to pick at the skin around her nails. “did i do something?”

“no,” liam shakes his head. “what? no, you didn’t do anything. is everything okay?”

she blinks, “yeah, why?”

liam sucks in a deep breath and eventually decides to brush it off. “well, i wanted to let you know that i’m getting offers from other teams for next season.”

he watches her expression change, contorting into an expression he’s not quite sure how to decipher it. so he quickly tries to undo it. “i haven’t signed anything yet. but you know… with the year we’re having, i want to keep my options open. i’ll tell you if something catches my eye.”

he stumbles back, not even realising that she’d made her way down to him, throwing her arms around him. “i’m so happy for you, liam. you deserve to have options.”

he looks down at her body, tightly clinging onto him. “really?”

“of course.” she takes a step back and pats his chest. “you’re the best teammate ever. any team would be lucky to have you as their driver.”

she climbs out of her car with a grumble, half annoyed and half amused. amused that her luck has continued its plummet with every weekend she spends in on a track.

she snarls down at her car as she tears her helmet off her head. “you’re a stupid car,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “you’ll never be anything like last year’s car. you suck.”

she is fully aware of how crazy she sounds, and looks, telling an inanimate object off. but as of late, it seems those are the only things she can vent to that won’t turn its back on her. the only thing that won’t retaliate when she needs to scream at it.

“if i could kick you, i would,” she mutters with a scowl. “i’d break you apart like a fucking lego set if it wouldn’t get me fired.”

she feels a tap on her shoulder, whirling around to find sebastian smiling at her and her phone held in the air.

“matt’s calling you.” she nods and reaches out for her phone but he pulls it back at the last second. “are you okay? i know quali wasn’t as good as we hoped for, but they’re looking into it to make the car better for tomorrow.”

“seb,” she sighs, shaking her head with a disappointed frown, “you say that every weekend we’re in here. are you not sick of saying that?”

he drops his hand. “well, one of us needs to keep our head up with this season we’re having.” he smiles slightly and offers her the ringing phone. “you shouldn’t let it get to you — you’re still a great driver.”

“that’s not what it feels like lately,” she mutters, grabbing her phone from sebastian. “i should be able to make a car work. it shouldn’t matter if it’s good or bad.” she glances down at her buzzing phone, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. she presses the decline button. “i’ll be at the media pen if you need me.”

she watches from the window in her driver’s room, her friends all gathered up, walking towards the gantries to exit the paddocks. they’re leaving to head for dinner without her after she’d refused their offer again.

oscar had approached her in the media pen to invite her out for dinner with them but she’d just not been feeling it. which would make this the 5th invitation that she’s rejected in 11 race weekends. oscar didn’t force her anymore; just simply shrugged and took her ‘no’ as it is.

which somehow made her feel even worse. which is even funnier, considering that just 2 races ago, she’d been wishing for her friends to invite her out after days in the paddocks. but there was something about her best friend taking her answer point blank without another word.

it feels so… isolating.

what if they’ve finally gotten tired of her rejection? what if they’re tired of her?

she whirls around to face her room. it’s messier than she’d usually keep it, her team shirts are lazily hung on the back of her chair and the sofa, her makeup is sprawled messily all over the table with a half-empty coffee cup that she had silently with sebastian for a strategy meeting.

the framed picture of her and sebastian is up on the wall again, with some attempt from sebastian to help her put it up again. she wishes that he’d never offered to help her put it back up. every time she looks at it, she remembers all her former glory and how far she’s fallen now.

and by meeting, she means that he spoke the entire time while she sat there nodding and smiling politely while thinking about how bad the car would be once she got in it.

and liam is leaving. well, he’s not technically leaving yet but seeing how their year keeps going down, it’s likely that he would. and she’s got a contract for another 3 years — where the hell is she going to go? nowhere because she has to stay here.

but everyone seems to be leaving her after her behaviour. but it’s hard to stop feeling this way.

how can she not feel this way?

if liam’s finished in the top 5 in the race and she’s out of the points, what does that mean for her? she’s just half the driver she was, she thinks.

she finds herself in the bar after feeling the need to be here. liam now holds the record for the highest finish for her team this season, after all. and she’s not about to be labelled a sore loser by not being here at all.

though she could almost predict being the talk of the town with her tucking herself in the corner of the club half the time they spent in there. people always find a way to vilify her actions anyway.

but in a way, she shouldn’t have come out of her hotel room. she shouldn’t have gone anywhere knowing her state of mind. she hasn’t had a drop of liquor in her system for a hot minute, but the minute she was reminded of its glorious taste, she couldn’t hold herself back.

she’s on her knees in the back alley of the club they’d dragged her to, hands planted on the gravel as she struggles to hold herself over the drainage. she takes deep breaths to steady herself, blinking in desperation to steady herself.

“fuck.” she shuts her eyes momentarily, taking another deep breath as she feels a sob and another urge to vomit. moreover, her chest hurts. could it be from drinking too much too fast or is it something deeper than that? she can never tell.

“hey, you’ve been– rocky?”

“don’t,” she sobs, holding a hand up quickly to stop whatever else could have come out of the man’s mouth. she balls her hands against the gravel, the pain of dragging her skin against the rough material doesn’t register, but it does cut into her skin. “whatever you’re going to say, keep it to yourself.”

she feels a warm hand rubbing circles on her back and suddenly there’s someone kneeling on the ground next to her. she feels her hair getting brushed back, held into a makeshift ponytail. “i won’t,” liam mutters, slouching slightly. “what do you need? a glass of water? do you need me to take you back to the hotel?”

she shakes her head as another heavy sigh passes her lips. “i don’t know.”

“i’m going to get you a glass of water from the club, okay?” liam hums, squeezing her hand. “please don’t go anywhere. i’ll only be away for a second, stay conscious.”

she nods through staggered breaths. her hair falls past her shoulders to cover her face and the warm hand on her back is replaced by the cold wind.

she grabs liam’s arm just before he gets up. “don’t tell anyone about this.” she turns slightly. her red eyes and puffed cheeks almost made liam want to stay and cradle her until she felt better then and there. “please.”

there’s something about seeing someone — her, specifically — get wasted. she’s always prided herself as someone who can take her liquor, so this was a whole new look that, honestly, he didn’t want to get used to.

how exactly do you try and relight the spark in someone who seems to dwindle away with every weekend that passes?

he doesn’t ever speak up, but he spends the most time with her out of everyone at this point in their lives. he knows; he notices. it’s hard not to when the tension in the air always seems so heavy.

liam nods. “of course.”

“i’m going to miss you,” she says with a frown, resting on her knees. she unzips the pet carrier and she cups kidnapper’s cheeks and tenderly pets his head. “i just need some time but i can’t take care of you right now.”

the cat simply tilts his head and tenderly lifts its head to rub the top of his head on her cheek. she wraps her arms around kidnapper and sighs.

she knew the day would come, sooner or later, that she couldn’t really take care of kidnapper. sure, he makes her apartment feel less isolated but it’s slowly becoming harder to take care of herself and the cat alike.

there are hours when it feels like a task to get herself out of bed for herself. much less for a cat that depends on her to be taken care of.

so she zips up the carrier and wipes her tears off her face. she composes herself before she forces herself to her feet. she knocks on the door and waits for an answer.

“must be someone we know if you’re not barking!” she hears logan laugh, followed by footsteps and then stubby’s loud footsteps against the hardwood flooring of his apartment.

the door opens, revealing logan in his pyjamas with a small grin. right by his feet is stubby, wagging his tail happily at her with a large smile and hopping on the spot at her sight and scent. “rocky,” he says in surprise with a small grin.

he wouldn’t have been so surprised if she’d been easier to reach lately. but in the passing weeks, it seems that she’s started to pull away from him and oscar.

it’s always a nice surprise when she shows up to his apartment unannounced. but with the familiar carrier by her feet, it makes him wonder what really brings her here. especially considering that she’s practically gone off the grid every single time they’re not in the paddocks for a race weekend.

she completely ignores their messages.

“what are you doing here?”

she had a whole speech prepared the entire time she walked over to his apartment building. a lie about needing him to take care of kidnapper for her while she spent the next couple of weeks in the states with matt.

but she ends up with, “i need someone to take care of kidnapper.”

“of course,” logan grins, tilting his head. “is everything okay? have you been crying?”

“watched a sad movie before coming here,” she forces a laugh out of herself, pointing at the carrier. “you don’t mind, do you? just a couple of weeks — i’m going out of town.”

she wasn’t expecting to make conversation with logan. in fact, that’s the entire reason she’d planned a speech prior to coming here with her cat in tow.

“we don’t mind,” he smiles. “arkansas with matt’s family, i suppose?”

she nods, “yeah.”

how exactly do you talk to your best friend who feels like she’s always a thousand miles away? “well, um,” logan hums, “do you want to come in for a drink? maybe a snack?”

she should accept the offer. “i’m leaving tonight, actually. i still have a lot of packing to do,” she feigns a frown, “maybe after i get back?”

logan nods with a grin. “sure. take care, dude, and have fun.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[happylikeasadsong]

"About the Blogger" meme

Thank u sm for tag @cruciomione!!

Star Sign(s): Cancer sun, Libra moon and Leo rising (i couldn't explain it i you asked, tho)

Favorite Holidays: Christmas and New Years i love how crazy people go about decorations and seems like there's no end to imagination. Also it's that time of the year i have the most delicious food and share quality time with my family. And New Years's so special bc i get to celebrate with friends and usually the parties are lit.

Last Meal: A strawberry delight crepe as a 'well done' gift from me to me or not dying during my exams and finishing them all, yayyy

Current Favorite Musician: i always find it hard to just mention one, so here goes my top three rn: coco jones, the maine and rbd (latin pop band).

Last Music Listened To: back to life by lawson. this one scratches my brain like no other.

Last Movie Watched: me and one of my closest friends do this list of christmas movies every year bc we love christmas movies, no matter how awful and cringe they are. last night i watched 'exmas' with leighton meester and robbie amell and i was surprised that it wasn't the worst, so it's a win in my book.

Last TV Show Watched: it was this week's episode of fellow travelers. jonathan bailey and matt bomer are breaking my heart in a million little pieces, but i think it worth it?? it's so so so sad and tragic but they do such a great job portraying hawk and skippy's story.

Last Book/Fic Finished: i wanted distract myself from my daily problems so i reread 'remember me, remebering you' by amiera_saphire on ao3 last weekend.

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: i prefer the term 'hiatus'. i have a jatp fic that i never really finished and the thought of it hunts me.

Currently Reading: a very boring article on managerial finance i have to write on by friday (my last assignment of the year, yay!). i hated it, so i came here to get enough endorfins to go back to it.

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: ships in the 1800's, also dresses of that time period so i can better my shitty description in my period fic. i only had an idea and a dream on that one.

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: uhh i think it was back in the cursed years (2020, eww) and after i watched julie and the phantoms i found some really good people here and on twitter. our day consisted in checking every news outlet about the show and pics, videos about them. also the fics were so incredibly good!! those were fun times.

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: arrowverse when it was good, maybe? idk but olicity had a choke on me in a concerning way. but then it went bad, so bad, and i suffered through until arrow ended and stopped watching the shows.

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: felicity. it's mainly bc it's such an old show and bc of that, no one is really talking about it anymore, but it was my shit when i 'discovered' back in college.

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: i'll quote @cruciomione about the multi chapter fics, i feel you! one shots are better for me bc i can just write my idea down.

i've been working on a multi chapter about a second chance/lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers. i love the angst i have panned out in my head lol maybe during the break it could revisit it.

loved doing this!!

tagging some ppl to do this too, only if you want!

@imliterallyjustablackgirl, @ethxocore, @laryssamedeirss, @vacationship, @ruethrills

[servospawn]

Lmao at everyone really have their own fav face and i’m just sitting here in the corner like.. BUT. ALL. OF. THEM. ARE. TRASH.

I don’t even have a fav face anymore. pls.

[thexfridax]

Wynonna Earp Boss Hopes Syfy Finale Made You Feel 'All the Things' — Plus, Scoop on One Happy Wedding Accident

By Matt Webb Mitovich, tvline.com / April 9 2021, 8:02 PM PDT

The following contains spoilers from the Syfy finale of Wynonna Earp.

After four years of protecting Purgatory with her Peacemaker, Wynonna Earp got to quite literally ride off into the sunset. And she did so while straddling a motorcycle, with Doc Holliday seated behind her.

Mind you, the two almost didn’t wind up together. Following the simply beautiful “WayHaught” wedding, Doc (played by Tim Rozon) was determined to put Purgatory in Charlene’s rear view mirror and get to living life as “just a man,” and Wynonna (Melanie Scrofano) felt compelled to stay put as Purgatory’s protector. But with an empowering nudge from li’l sis Waverly (Dominique Provost-Chalkley), Wynonna caught up to her man and professed her love, after which they decided to travel light, for the first time in a long time, and pay their daughter Alice a visit in MIracles, Montana.

TVLine spoke with series creator Emily Andras about crafting this very fine finale, at least one “happy accident” that wound up stirring many emotions, and more.

TVLINE | The finale has just aired…. What emotions do you hope the fans are feeling at this moment?

Just head-to-toe body warmth, and love, and affection, and wistfulness…. And a little bit of bittersweetness. I feel like joy has to be paired with nostalgia, so I hope they’re feeling all the things. But hopefully not hungover!

TVLINE | At what point over the years did you ever envision Wynonna and Doc riding off into the sunset?

Ahhh! I almost never even let myself envision it, you know? It’s so funny — when you start doing a show, you have all sorts of ideas about what pairings are going to rise to the top, who’s going to end up with whom, and one of the joys of Earp is that so many different things have happened. But those two characters have certainly earned the chance to try to be happy, whatever that means to them. I never knew that I would be allowed to end such a romantic pairing with the woman driving the motorcycle and the guy on the back.

TVLINE | I’m watching that final sequence and it almost feels alien, seeing the two of them head off into what I think of as “the real world.” But I also found that viscerally exciting, to see so much ahead for them.

That’s so lovely, thank you for saying that. I feel like having the world ahead of them and being such an unusual couple, I would love to see what happens next for them. I’m sure there will be lots of crazy sex and crazy arguments and crazy laughter. So, godspeed! Godspeed.

TVLINE | When throwing a season-ending wedding, what is Emily Andras’ marching order? “Above all else, this wedding has to be…”?

It has to honor to all of the characters — and by that, I mean it has to try to find a moment for every special pairing on the show, not just WayHaught. I think it’s important to pay due respect to how far Waverly and Doc have come; she never gave up on him, she always saw a better man in him — and now he gets to be the best man! Nedley (Greg Lawson) and Nicole’s (Kat Barrell) relationship, that paternal/daughter bond is so special, so honoring that was very important.

And at the end of the day, I still think the real love affair of the show is the Earp sisters, so I ended to make sure that that was honored. I really love the parallel with the pilot, where Wynonna came into town against her will and was so hungry to leave but was forced to stay. And now you have Waverly secure enough in how their relationship has evolved, that she knows Wynonna deserves to leave again — because she’ll come back.

More than anything, it was about giving every character a moment of happiness. Even Jeremy (Varun Saranga) becoming deputy chief of Black Badge and maybe finding a new date…. It was all about finding everyone a moment of potential joy, after they’ve gone through so much after four seasons.

TVLINE | Talk about the decision to have empty guest chairs laid out with the names of those who are no longer with us or didn’t make it to the wedding.

That was such a happy accident. We were on-set, it was very much in the middle of the pandemic, and we knew we were going to have a limited number of people for the wedding. But then we put out chairs so you could understand where the aisle was, and they looked really empty. So my incredible director, Paolo Barzman, who also did the pilot, and my art director Trevor Smith, pitched this idea to me. I had sort of joked about, “Wouldn’t it be cool if you had the ghosts of characters past?” In the moment, they said, “What if we hung names on the chairs?” and it was just one of those goosebump moments, like, “That’s brilliant.” So then we have people writing up these cards, rushing them out, and it’s honestly one of my favorite things. Whenever I see that Dolls chair, I just can’t help but feel things.

TVLINE | But Mercedes (Dani Kind), to be clear, is still with us.

She’s just out, like, being her best vampire self. She’s out being an amazing vampire, yeah. I still have that spinoff if you want to help me sell that!

TVLINE | If anything caught me a bit off-guard, it was us getting a song from Rachel (played by Martina Ortiz-Luis).

The thing about Martina is that she is a phenomenal singer. She is the anthem singer for the Toronto Maple Leafs — so she’s quite a star here! — and she was on Pilipinas Got Talent back in the day…. It seemed like a waste to not have someone with such an exceptional voice perform! And what better song to lay over the necessary wedding montage than a WayHaught classic (Fleurie’s “Wildwood”), the song that was playing the first time WayHaught kissed. It’s a bit of an Easter egg for those hardcore WayHaughters!

TVLINE | I don’t think anyone would have ever felt like a “Dark Angel Waverly” detour was missing, if you hadn’t spent time on it the episode prior. Why did you feel it was important to go there during one of the final hours?

The truth of it is that honestly we’ve been balancing the spectre of whether we were going to have a Season 5 or not. When we started breaking Season 4 two years ago, we were looking down the barrel of about 24 episodes, so [when you get half that] you’re like, “What are we going to keep, and what are we going to pitch overboard? What can we live without learning about?” I would argue that this idea of Waverly having a darkness inside of her did have to be highlighted after four seasons. I completely agree that in a perfect world I could have done eight episodes of Dark Angel Waverly, exploring that and seeing it come to pass. But if we ever get more story, I don’t know if Waverly has complete control over that part of herself. I dont think it’s “gone.” If Nicole puts mayo instead of mustard on her sandwich, who knows what’s going to sprout out!

TVLINE | I mean, if only to see what other outfits Dark Waverly has.

As long as she keeps her thigh holster, she’s ready to go.

TVLINE | Looking back at these last few episodes, what are you most proud of?

‘m so proud of this cast. It’s so boring, but God, just to see them grow and thrive and shine…. performing comedy and emotion, seeing their commitment to the show, and the feelings…. It’s just been such a joy to see such an amazing group of people get their due. They really are that wonderful, off-screen as well.

I’m also pretty happy — in this day and age, and despite all the fights the show has been through — that if this is the end, I feel like that’s a pretty nice finale, a pretty good topper on the cake. I feel like the fans will feel like they went on a journey, and they left the characters in an interesting, good place. And look, that’s really rare in TV, to end your story the way you want. How can I be anything but grateful, at the end of the day?

TVLINE | When I was writing my tweet the other morning, I wanted to call it a “very fine finale,” but I worried you’d think I was saying it was only “fine.” But it was a very fine finale!

No, you have to keep me hungry! You get to challenge me, Matt. Listen, I just didn’t want to risk…. I’m the queen of 75 cliffhangers, but I feel like the fans have worked so hard for us, for so many years, that it was more important that they got closure, just in case. But there’s always another demon, there’s always another thing to trigger Dark Angel Waverly. There’s always more story, but at least you have this, no matter what.

TVLINE | And if some network or streamer does ride to the rescue, would there be something that brings Wynonna and Doc back to Purgatory? Or might a Season 5 be without the two of them?

Look, the show is called Wynonna Earp, so you need Wynonna Earp. She’s still the champion, she’s still got the magic gun and the best hair on the show — sorry, everyone else!

There are a couple of unresolved issues. We still have Eve, who we kicked out the the Garden very early in the season, and who can kind of shapeshift; she could take on the appearance of any one of our characters! That would certainly throw a wrench in the works in Purgatory. There are a million different reasons to bring Wynonna back, to help out her sister.

TVLINE | And lastly, was there anything you had to cut or just didn’t have room for, or any returning cast you couldn’t fit in?

Oh, tons. But look, you kind of hit the nail on the head earlier. I’m always striving to be better, and some stuff at the end felt a little rushed, with Dark Angel Waverly. I think if it hadn’t been a pandemic, there would have been more people at that wedding. I would have loved four more episodes to round the bend there. But look, that’s Wynonna Earp, man — perfectly imperfect! So that’s what we did, and what a ride it’s been. The ride of a lifetime for me.

[it-is-bugs]

Blake Secret Santa Fic: I’ll be Home for Christmas

I can feel @blakesecretsanta2019 sweating in her latest post, but posting with plenty of time. (two whole hours) 

For @thetucc:  prompt is 'Jean/Lucien or Matthew/Alice (your choice) with settled Christmas traditions (so not first Christmas together)'

Thank you to thetucc and all the fans that are keeping this fandom strong, and here’s to 2020 giving us even more to enjoy.  And thank you so much to @aussiegirl41 for Ausifying.  

Lucien and Jean build a new tradition, while Matthew and Alice enact their own annual celebration 

***

"You put the angel on top, and it's finished."

The woman directs your tentative actions...the woman is Jean.  Jean is your wife.  Your wife is explaining this process, where in the colourful and shiny objects in the box are transferred to the conifer. This is done for every Christmas...it is Christmas, a holiday to celebrate friends, family, and faith. Nod and smile.  Show your appreciation.  Try not to react to the distress in her expression.

"Missed a spot," from behind them.

The man...the man is your friend...the man is Matthew.  Not Matt, not Matty.  Move the string of lights to the left, and he nods in satisfaction.  Release a breath of relief. 

"Lucien?"  All her fear in that name.

Lucien...yes, your name is Lucien.  Not Louie, not Lucky, not these names other people have been calling you since the darkness lifted. You didn't question the darkness; didn't everyone's life start in the dark?  

"Yes, darling?"  You find it easier than saying a name that means nothing, and there's always a glimmer of hope in her eyes when you say it.

"Why don't you help me start dinner?" she says, forcing cheerfulness. 

An instinct tells you to hold out your hand to help Jean stand, which she takes and her slim finger slips along your bare ring finger.  She'd asked if you'd lost your wedding ring, but she's really asking another question. You lie, and say you don't remember where you lost it.  

The gold band had been the first thing you sold for food, an easy act in the moment of gnawing hunger. It had meant nothing, and the act gave you no pause to question 'where's this wife?' The only force more powerful than the hunger and pain in your skull was this need to hide, to stay in the shadows, a sense that a pursuer wanted to take your life. Surely no woman waited at home as this Jean said she had. No hearth was warm, no supper ready, no bed soft. Only the dark cold cobblestones of the back alleys felt comfortable.

The first night in this house, Jean took you to a large bed under a flickering golden ceiling.  Her pale arms wrapped around you, her breasts heaved against your chest from her rapid breathing. "You're home now, my love.  I never lost faith." 

It would have been easy to complete this act. You were urgent and hot between your bodies, her scent was intoxicating. Her touch seemed as familiar as that of a longtime lover, but she was a stranger.  For all these months you'd been another man, not her Lucien, women had reached for you, offered you this but something had stopped you. Had it been her holding your urges in check?  

You'd left the bed, her embrace, and slept on the floor wedged between a dresser and a corner. This felt right and familiar. Later you moved to a bedroom by the front door; easier to leave when this all becomes too much. It is nearly too much;  you vibrate like a plucked violin string all the time.  

The other woman breaks your paralysis as she rises from the lounge chair where she's been reading a psychology book. "I shall help with the preparation as well." She is Alice, and she tells you that she worked with you in your role as police surgeon. An odd thing for a lady to do, but her steady, competent gaze shows she could dissect a corpse with ease.

You see dead bodies when you close your eyes, and you didn't know why.  Or why you were a doctor if these thoughts fill you with dread.  Shaking your head, you trail the others to the kitchen.  

"Lucien, why don't you peel the potatoes for us?"  The one called Alice remains cool and controlled, even as your wife bunches her shoulders at the sink and scrubs the carrots much too hard. 

"Ever since I came to work at the hospital, you've made me welcome in your home at Christmas time," Alice explains as she takes down the china from the cupboards.  "I'm an awful cook, so I try to help by setting the table, and bringing the wine."

You smile encouragingly.  She cocks an eyebrow.  No, you don't remember. 

Matthew limps to the table where a bowl of potatoes waits.  "I'm a much better help."  Waving the paring knife at Alice, he notes, "You should be able to slice and dice a spud if you can butcher a man like a suckling pig."

"That's simply a matter of anatomy," she counters, "from years of study. I've not had the time to apply myself to cookery."

"Leave her be," Jean says sharply.  "She doesn't need to cook."

You don't like to see her upset.  "What's going to be on for dinner beside potatoes?"  What do people eat at Christmas Eve?  "Goose?"  Once, there was a goose...but not here. Not in this bright light. Dim evenings, lamplight casting into dark rooms from the streets outside.  A roaring fire, not these warm Australian summer nights.

Although she's not happy that you don't know, she's relieved that you're trying.  "Goodness no. Too greasy.  We do a nice pork roast, with roasted potatoes, pumpkin, honeyed carrots, buttered brussel sprouts and my Nanna's plum pudding for afterwards."  

You can smell the pork even though you know it's still sitting raw on a plate in the fridge.  "It's delicious," and she gives a genuine smile.  

"Yes, yes it is, if I may say so myself."  

Matthew clears his throat and you look down at the unpeeled potatoes.  Picking up the knife with one hand and a spud with the other, you are uncertain what's next.  Matthew still watches, and slows his motion so you can observe.  Carefully, mustn't cut a finger, the curl of peeling gives satisfaction.  You're surprised to find your forehead moist with sweat when you finish.  

The meal is equally torturous, with many more prompts: as host, you pour the wine, slice the meat, pass the dishes.  

Finally Alice lifts her glass and offers a toast that makes no one feel better: "To old friends, together again."

All through the meal, there is a tension beyond your missing past.  It has form and shape.  You've watched the lurking figure in the shadow out of the corner of your eye. Jean doesn't see it, Matthew seems to ignore it, Alice keeps her back to it.  But you see it.  You want to trust these people, but can't from the way Matthew and Alice meet gazes, then their eyes dart away.  They whisper near those shadows, then part, watching Jean to assure she hasn't seen.  They watch you too, checking if your attention is caught.  Months on the streets of Melbourne have taught you how to keep your attention one place, while the hunter's heart watches another.  

"I suppose I should be getting home," Alice says, beginning the process of giving her farwells, gathering her handbag, and moving to the door.  You stay back at the table, observing the scene, alert for that deception that weighs heavily on your shoulders.

"Lucien, aren't you going to thank our guest for coming?"  Jean is losing patience with you, but it doesn't matter.  You will bring light to the shadows. 

Matthew is equally nonchalant, tossing a "Seeya then," to Alice, then wandering back to the lounge and his newspaper.  

You face Alice and don't like how her level gaze probes. Give a smile, a kiss on the cheek, and she pulls back, containing a shudder.  Sometimes moving closer will push someone away.  

The door shuts. "It's been a long evening. I think I'd better go to bed," you announce.  Jean steps into your kiss, holding her close until you can feel her fingers' grip through your shirt. Retreating through the bedroom doorway, the heavy walnut door closes off her pained expression.

When the darkness covers the entire house, and the only sound is the low buzz of frogs, you leave the house and wait in the deep shadows by the garage. Patience is rewarded. The front door cracks open and a figure stumbles through. In the time it takes Matthew to lock the door, you dart to the auto, slide into the backseat, holding the door closed but not latched. Matthew comes to the driver's door and gets behind the wheel. As he slams his door, you can secure yours.  

The auto moves slowly down the drive then picks up speed after turning onto the street.  Minutes pass until Matthew stops and turns off the engine.  You press down on the floorboards, holding your breath so he won't notice you.

His dragging steps fade away. Sliding from the auto, you crouch in the carpark, spotting Matthew as he goes through a side door of a large building.  It's the hospital, quiet and still this late on Christmas Eve.

You follow, silent on light feet. The hunt feels good after weeks confined in that house.  Matthew's distinct footfall is easy to track through the tiled corridors.  You seem to know where you're going, and it's not necessary to trail him closely. Downstairs, as he travels from spot to spot of light, you remain in the shadows.  At the end of a corridor, he pauses, glancing behind him and you melt back into an alcove.  He goes through a swinging door.  You wait, but he doesn't come out, minute after minute passing.  Finally, you move forward.  At the door, you listen.  Low voices, speak, long pauses, speak again with urgency but you cannot make out the words.  

You dare to push open the door the slightest of cracks.  Easing closer, you peer through.

There's a small Christmas tree on a stainless steel topped gurney.  Two glasses of champagne sit beside it, untouched.  Your gaze refocuses at the sound of movement....and Matthew Lawson and Alice Harvey are engaged in an act of intimacy across the room.

Stepping back, you carefully ease the door shut and reflect. You dare to murmur, "Bloody hell." If they are involved in any conspiracy, it is none of your business.  Retracing your steps, you find your way outside and look up and down the street. On Christmas Eve, there are no cars or taxis.  It's a warm summer night, the sky full of stars. A walk will do no harm.  You know you were once a larger man because your clothes now hang on your frame.  Jean tries to fatten you up, but if you had an interest in extra pudding, it's fled. Sturdier limbs would be welcome.  

A mile along a dark street, headlights catch you.  The urge to flee is strong, and when the vehicle is revealed to be a blue police car, it's nearly overwhelming.  It stops beside you.

A blockish face peers out.  "What's up, Doc," says the policeman, a sneer on his lips. 

You are a doctor.  You are Doctor Lucien Blake. "I'm out for a stroll."

"Pretty far from home."

"The time escaped me."

"Get in and I'll give you a ride."  It was not a suggestion, but an order.  

You take the passenger seat after pausing at the back door, wondering if you should sit in the criminal's place.  

"Out drinking."  Again, not a question.  The policeman drives swiftly but not recklessly.

"No."  You realise that you haven't had a drink in days, weeks, when was the last time you drank?  But you tasted whisky on your tongue the moment he said drink.  

"Jean will wonder where you got to." 

You don't like the way this man says your wife's name.  You have no reply. 

He's turned down your street--how do you know your street?--but as relief washes over you, he speaks again. "It would have been better for everyone if you'd stayed dead."  He pulls into the drive.

You don't reply until you're out of the car.  "But I am back and I'm not going anywhere."  Every day you want to leave, but saying it aloud means it's true.  

You don't thank him for the ride.  

Inside the front door that you open as quietly as you can, Jean is standing, her sheer dressing gown flowing around her slender legs, her face white, her knuckles tight on her clenched fists.  "Where have you been?"

"I went for a walk."

"You've been gone for hours."

She's the watcher, not Matthew and Alice. 

"I lost track of time."  It's a foolish thing to say.  

Her fingers lace with yours.  "You're freezing."

"It's a warm night."

"You're freezing," she repeats, and tugs you past the first bedroom door and down the hall to the magnificent room that she calls your bedroom.  It's made you ache to enter it.  It speaks to a special sort of marriage, where there's the intimacy of two people spending time alone before a fire, one reading aloud from the many volumes lining the room while another listens; her knitting while you warm your socked feet; of time spent in the large bed set at the middle of the room like a throne.  

She pulls you down to the bed, and slips her dressing gown from her shoulders before holding you close. "We don't--please just let me hold you. Warm you up."  Her skin is heated and smells welcoming. Your head drops to her shoulder as you're suddenly exhausted. 

"Tired, my love?"

"Always."

The two of you stretch out atop the bedspread, and stare at the dead fire, suddenly muted.  Finally she asks again, "Where did you go?"

After considering lying, you keep it short. "I followed Matthew.  I wanted to know where he was going so late."

She goes bolt upright.  "Oh, Lucien!"

"What?"

She flops back down.  "Did you see anything?"

You don't want to shock Jean--

"You did.  I hope you didn't embarrass them."

"I'm sure they didn't see me."  You clear your throat.  "They were occupied."

Her arms around you, her legs twining with yours.  "Just don't tell anyone.  It's their secret."

"But you know."

 "Silly," she calls you. 

"Do you want me to go?"

"Please don't."  Her arms tighten.  

Forcing yourself to relax, you listen for your memory in her soft limbs and steady breathing.  She remains a stranger but you still close your eyes, and allow sleep to come.  

Christmas day dawn filters around the heavy curtains, waking you before Jean.  In the night, she's rolled over, her back to you.  Sunbeams illuminate her spine--you see pearls down her back, she's turning to hand her bouquet to a young woman--

Your fingertips trace this sharply focused picture along her vertebrae, causing her to murmur and roll to face you.  Sleepily, her eyes open then widen at your intense gaze.  "Do you remember something?"

You need to respond to her pain-filled hope.  "I've never forgotten I love you.  Never."  

Even as she collapses against your chest, you know that's not enough.  If you loved her, why didn't you come back?  Why did you stay away all these long months?

She kisses you anyway, tentative at first, then soft and warm, her chilled fingers plucking at your shirt buttons.  Her spine arches and presses her writhing body to yours, and memories don't matter.  Just this feeling of belonging to someone--this someone who seems to fit with your limbs like puzzle pieces.  

A ringing from across the room; the phone is ringing.  

"Jean--"

She wriggles free.  "It's probably Christopher calling to wish us Happy Christmas.  I don't want to miss the call."  She does lean over for a quick kiss, and promises, "I'll keep it short though." 

But when she picks up the receiver, her expression becomes worried.  "Danny?"  She half-turns away.

Danny...sandy-haired lad in a blue uniform.  You in court again, more charges for petty larceny.  None of it matters.  A night in jail is a night with a bed and supper assured.  But this time, one of the coppers in the seats waiting for his case called out: "Doc!"  He was calling to you, recalling another life that you could not remember.   

"Are there more charges?" Jean murmurs, winding the phone cord around her nervous fingers.

His fines had been paid, the shop owner repaid handsomely for his troubles.  He'd been carried away from Melbourne in a large auto, this woman, this wife, his Jean beside him, her hand clinging to his arm tightly enough to hurt.  

"Yes, yes, you can come by--"  She glances to you, and you rise, straightening your clothes.  "Charlie's with you too?  What's wrong?"  Frustrated, she says, "Alright, we'll be ready for you."  She rings off.

"They'll be here in about twenty minutes."  She moves to the wardrobe.  "You've met Danny, but Charlie is an old friend as well."  She's become used to introducing everyone to you before we met again. 

She hands you a set of fresh clothing, and you take them slowly.  It feels as though you're dressing for a tribunal.   

Two young men arrive, the one called Danny in a uniform, and a stranger in a dark suit with a portfolio under his arm.  They are not dressed for a Christmas Day visit, and their faces are grave.

Jean, her hands shaking as she grips the tray with teapot and cups, leads them to the lounge.  After she pours, she sinks down beside you on the settee to face them.

"This is Charlie Davis," says Danny, "he's a detective with the Melbourne police."

"A detective," you repeat. 

The two men lock eyes, as though gathering their courage.

Charlie removes a photograph from his portfolio and puts it on the table before you.  "Do you know this man?"

It's an older man, about your age, with blank sullen eyes and a scar along his jaw.  You touch your beard that covers your scars.  You know they're there even if you can't see them.  

"Who is he?" Jean asks. 

You keep staring at the picture.  "He's dead."  You know this because his very image crushes your chest, makes your eyes burn, causes blood to rush in your ears.  

Jean grips your hand tightly but you don't acknowledge her.

"His badly decomposed body was found three weeks ago, downstream from the bridge where you were last seen."

"You don't believe--" Jean gasps.

"A suicide note was found inside his pocket," Charlie quickly explains, meeting gazes with Danny again.

"At the same time that you disappeared, Doc," says Danny, "A woman named Vera Griffith was found murdered in her home.  Her husband was missing."  He nods to Charlie, as though they were passing a football back and forth.  

"When I did my initial investigation of the murder scene," Charlie says, "Lucien's fingerprints were found on the doorknob."

This time, Jean can't even protest.  She sags against you, but your body is frozen with terror.  

Danny doesn't look at his aunt when he admits,  "We kept this from you, Auntie Jean. We weren't sure what had happened--"

She spits out, "That's why you shut down any inquiries I made--"

"We were protecting you, Jean," Charlie offers but she only huffs louder.

Your question stops the argument: "Did I kill this poor woman?" 

Shaking his head, Charlie taps the photo.  "This is Michael Griffith, her husband.  The suicide note was saturated with water, but our forensic scientists were recently able to decipher it.  He confessed to the crime and that he was killing himself as well."

Jean sputters angrily, but your heartbeat thumping erratically between relief and anxiety.  

"With the discovery of Griffith's body," Charlie says, "I searched their house again; tore it apart."  He removes a thick folder from the portfolio.  "I found a number of letters from Doctor Blake."

Jean turns to you.  "Did you know him well?"

A flash of irritation. Of course you did. The blood in your ears has become pounding waves, and bury your head in your hands. It was cold and dark on the bridge. Shouting voices--you wanted him to come to you, to stop talking madness, why was he covered in blood?  Why so much blood?

Jean takes the letters.  "What's in them?" 

"We need you to give us that answer," Charlie says to you, not Jean.  "They're one side of the correspondence and don't tell us much. We're hoping his letters are here."  Now he asks Jean, "Did you find any letters from Griffith?"

She shifts away on the settee, blushing. You're confused at her embarrassment.  Of course she would go through your things when you disappeared, trying to find an answer.  

"Just a bit," she admits, "But I know one place I didn't look."   She hops from the settee and hurries from the room.  You remain staring at the picture until she returns with a large metal box.

"Let me get that for you, Auntie Jean," Danny says, but she holds it away, giving it to you instead.  

"It's Lucien's."  

The box is heavy. You open the lid slowly and are confronted by a charcoal drawing of an unspeakable act being done by a Japanese soldier to a child.  Jean watches you turn the drawings, one after the other.  These are horrible images, but you cannot look away.  Each one must be carefully examined.  When the final one is seen, there's a bundle of letters underneath. You say, "Mike did the drawings.  He didn't want to keep them after the war, but I couldn't see them destroyed.  He thought if he burned them, those memories would go away.  They never go away."

Jean stands. "Why don't you boys go down to the station. Matthew's on shift for the holidays."  She's ordering them out of the house, and they know it. After looking yearningly at the letters, they leave.

When she returns from shutting the door behind them, she says, "Drink your tea."

"I've got to go through these letters."

"Drink your tea," she orders more forcibly.   "I'll organise them."

As you down your tea thirstily, she puts the letters together, yours and Michael's, by postal mark date. 

"Do you want to read them, or shall I?" she asks.

You touch the stack carefully, as one would lift a hot kettle.  "I'll read the ones I wrote. Can you read Michael's?"

She hesitates, then nods.  The first letter is from Michael.  He had reached out to Lucien Blake after years of silence, reminding him that they had been in the same prisoner of war camp but had gone separate ways after returning to Australia. Now he wrote in distress.  

"Sorry to be a bother, mate, but I saw your wedding announcement in the paper and thought I'd drop a line.  How are you getting on?  ...I can't stop the nightmares, haven't slept in days. "  Jean puts down the page and looks expectantly at you.

"I am so very sorry to hear things are getting you low, Mike, and that I hadn't replied sooner. I've been on my honeymoon. If you need to talk, I'm up in Melbourne now and then."

The letters went on in the same tone, Lucien trying to help Mike, until the week before your disappearance. 

Griffith had written: "No matter what I do, I can't keep the dark thoughts away.  I'm just so bloody angry.  Vera does nothing to help, always yapping at me to try harder. I do try, and find myself right back in this hell. How do you keep the wife off your back?"

You look down at the page before you.  "Vera only wants what's best for you. Just as Jean knows the man I can be, so I work every day to be that man. You were a great artist at the darkest time and you can be great again.  I'm coming to Melbourne to follow up on a case next week.  Let's get together, and see if we can get you through this."

Jean taps the empty table.  "That's the last of them. Why didn't you tell me about meeting up with Mike?"  She's the most hurt that you've seen her.

"Our life was going so well.  My troubles were behind us.  If you saw this...afraid that you'd come to fear me as Vera rightly feared Mike."  These are less certain memories of Lucien Blake, more words that just appear on your tongue.  

She starts to protest, but then stops.  Carefully, she says, "I can never know what you feel, but I do want to help."

 Lifting her hand to your lips, you press a kiss to it. 

She turns her hand to cradle your cheek.  She whispers, "Do you remember what happened?  Were you there when he did it?"

You cling to her hand as the room goes dark.  You whimper, "I don't want to go back."

"If you go back to that day, perhaps you can go back to the day before and the day before that, and find yourself," she says urgently.  "And I'll be there.  I'll always be there to catch you when you fall."

You're shaking.  "It's cold. I'm cold."

Her mouth is close to your ear. "Is Mike there?"

"Yes."

"What's happening?"  She pulls you into her arms and holds you with fierce strength.

"I went to their house.  Vera was already dead.  I told Mike we had to go to the police.  He laughed.  Said I would do the same some day. I'd snap."  You're babbling.  "I tried to force him to his car and he knocked me down.  When I got up, he'd run...run to the river....the bridge."

"You tried to stop him."

"Yes."

"But he'd already planned to jump."

"S'pose."  You're so very tired.  Can barely speak. 

"He wanted to take you with him," she breathes, clinging to your heaving back. 

"Did he?"

"You never would have jumped."

"No. But I had to try to stop him.  I had to," you sob.

"Yes, you always need to try."

"Then he was falling...I was falling....we were falling."   

"You survived again.  He fell, but you lived."

You can't even hold your head up.  You accept her embrace, your face in the shelter of the crook of her neck.  "But your Lucien is gone."

"For now."  Her hand makes soothing circles on your back. Minutes pass.  Her hand presses your chest over your heart.  "But this Lucien, perhaps he's come home to stay."

"Perhaps," you choke out.  The photos have been everywhere, people talk about Lucien Blake--his humour, his compassion, his passion--as though he's not the man whose body you live in.  Surely you're not enough for her?  

Gently she disentangles herself and goes to the tree.  She plucks a small gold box from one of the branches.  Sitting beside you again, she cradles the box, seeming nervous. 

"You remembered our wedding?"

"I think so.  Parts."  I feel as dizzy as if dancing. Music playing--

"The Christmas before our wedding, I set the date.  Perhaps we should make that our new tradition."  She turns my hand over and places the box in it.  "Will you marry me again?"   

Opening the box, I see a wedding band inside.  After staring at it for a long moment, I ask, "Jean...you'd marry this man?"

"You have come back to me, don't you see that?"  

I barely nod. The stone as been cleaved, and memories are seeping through. 

Her chin goes up.  "So, then, will you marry me?  On our anniversary?"

March, our anniversary is in March.  "Let's do the ceremony in the sunroom.  I'll get my kiss this time."

She's breathing as though running.  "You haven't answered my question."

I face her, tracing the tears on her cheeks with my thumbs.  "I will, Jean.  I will marry you."

~ End

[gore-hovnd]

So a few days I posted that I’d outlined my headcanon for Jack’s life up until the events of TWS and I got some good advice to post it. So I prettied it up and fleshed out a few concepts and now I’m throwing it at tumblr

Now, these are just my headcanons, and yes I’m forcing HH into it bc I love the ship and even though it’d never happen in canon, it was fun to kinda toy with the whole “how they met” idea. So yeah, here’s this and I’m gonna go lay down lol

I’ll see about doing one for Brock too? Just depends on how long it takes for me to think of stuff up for him. 

Jack’s Timeline

      • Jack Rollins was born in 1974 to John and Leanne Rollins in the mountains of Colorado, right outside of a major city

      • At the time of his birth he was their fifth son but would end up being the middle sibling of nine

          ◦  The reason Jack’s parents had so many children was because Leanne had grown up an only child and recalled how lonely it was. She never wanted her kids to be lonely so she decided she wanted a lot of them. Originally, she’d planned to stop at five but Leanne and John decided they wanted to keep trying until they had a girl.

      • Jack’s siblings consist of: 

          ‣  Matthias - 1964

          ‣ Titus and T.J. - 1966

          ‣ Lawson - 1970

          ‣ Cooper - 1980

          ‣ Benjamin - 1982

          ‣ Samuel - 1983

          ‣ Annalise - 1985

      • Jack was born premature and doctors didn’t think he would survive

          ◦ Because of this, Leanne favored him and always kept a close eye on him

      • During Jack’s early life, his parents thought he may have had a learning disability due to the fact that he rarely, if ever spoke. 

          ◦ It turned out that Jack was selectively mute

      • John didn’t take well to this diagnosis and wanted to try to force Jack to speak

          ◦ He suggested doing this by forcing Jack to verbally ask for things like food, water, bathroom breaks, etc. 

                ‣ Leanne rejected this and instead decided that Jack would be treated by a therapist

      • Jack began to speak more in middle school

          ◦ It started out with asking / answering questions in class, asking to borrow a pencil from classmates, etc. 

      • By the time Jack was in 8th grade, while still shy, was able to speak with relative ease

      • In 1987, when Jack was 13, his mother passed away due to an ongoing heart condition

          ◦ Because of this, Jack’s family feared he would stop talking again

      • While Jack didn’t stop talking, he also didn’t seem to mourn the loss of his mother either

      • Concerned with this, John had sent Jack to a new therapist

          ◦ The new therapist claimed Jack was going through a period of dissociative shock 

                ‣ It took years of therapy and counseling for Jack to open up and properly grieve 

      • Jack ended up going to a different high school than most of his peers from middle school and had to basically start over. 

      • For a little while he would keep to himself and didn’t really take the steps to make any new friends

          ◦ Until three months into the semester when he was paired up to work on an assignment with a boy named Dalton

      • Dalton took a liking to Jack and introduced him to the rest of his friend group; consisting of Cole, Braxton, Lucan, and Matt

      • The boys grew close together; they would hang out after school together and Jack would go to their drama club performances even though he was too shy to be in one himself. 

      • During spring break of his freshman year, Jack found out and met Braxton’s two dads, Arthur and Christopher

          ◦ Before this, Jack had never met a gay couple before

                ‣ Meeting them sprung questions of Jack’s own sexuality

      • When Jack’s dad found out about Braxton’s parents, he reacted very negatively and this scared Jack back into his shell

          ◦ He rarely spoke to his father about anything after that

      • For the entirety of his sophomore year and the majority of his junior year, Jack tried to ignore his sexuality

      • Until finally, nearing the end of his junior year, he came out to Arthur and Christopher and asked them for advice

          ◦ The two of them told Jack he could always confide in them

      • At 18, Jack developed a crush on a new student who’d moved to Colorado from Los Angeles

      • This boy’s name was Christian and the two of them began to date soon after meeting

      • Jack told Christian that he didn’t want to go public about their relationship, basically stating he liked to keep his personal life private

          ◦ Christian agreed not to say anything

      • The two of them dated for a few months but that all came to a screaming halt during winter break

      • Christian had gone over to the Rollins’ home asking for him and responded with “Jack’s boyfriend” when John asked Christian who he was. 

      • John was absolutely livid and kicked Jack out without a second thought. 

          ◦ Jack and Christian got into a huge argument over this and broke up due to it

      • Jack’s uncle, Mike, had offered a place for Jack to stay

          ◦ He slept on Mike’s couch for the final semester of his senior year

      • Once Jack graduated, he enlisted in the Marines and disappeared without telling his family anything. 

      • Six weeks into boot camp, he’d given into the guilt and wrote letters to T.J., who was the only one of his siblings who still spoke to him, as well as his uncle

      • While in the Marines, Jack pretty much shed his childhood shyness entirely and grew to be more self confident. 

          ◦ He also became a trained sniper and demolitions expert

      • In late 2000, Jack was in an unfortunate accident while on deployment that left him blind in his left eye

          ◦ Because of this, Jack was discharged 

      • After being discharged, with pretty much nowhere to go, Jack spent 9 months on the streets. 

          ◦ But in August of 2001, when Jack was 27, an agent got in contact with him and told Jack he worked for a government funded agency that recruited and rehabilitated veterans for reenlistment. 

      • Jack agreed to sign a contract and go with this agent

      • During training, which was long and grueling, he met a man named Ellison Lomack and the two of them quickly became friends.

      • Jack spent five years going on missions for this agency, assuming that he was once again an active duty Marine

      • In 2006 he was given the opportunity to be brought onto an elite STRIKE team that could earn him up to $95,000 a year. 

          ◦ Jack was chosen to be the Second in Command of STRIKE Team Alpha

      • His orientation to this team was when he’d found out he was part of HYDRA

      • Being told, essentially, that he would either continue working or be killed, Jack chose the former

      • Being the chosen SIC, Jack had to go through extra training and bonding with the STRIKE team’s commander, Brock Rumlow

          ◦ Brock told Jack when they first met; “I trust you with my life, you gotta learn to trust me with yours.” 

      • In the first few months, Brock was almost glued to Jack’s hip any time they were at work or in the field

          ◦ Including times when Jack was diffusing bombs, which freaked Jack out

      • Over time, Brock and Jack began to work together like a well oiled machine, Jack’s calm and calculating personality working well with Brock’s brazen and abrasive one. 

      • And in 2009, while drinking after a highly successful mission, Brock and Jack had drunk sex in the hotel room of the British Prime Minister, hardly slipping away before they got caught

      • Jack began to recognize his feelings for Brock after this night but refused to pursue anything, feeling as though it would be safer to preserve their established relationship

          ◦ Everything pretty much went back to normal

      • Two years passed and their relationship grew stronger, but never took a romantic turn. Until one night on a particularly difficult mission where everything had gone tits up and they only had 24 hours to fix it. 

            ◦ Brock is stressed out about it and laments that he isn’t afraid to die, but admits he wished he could’ve spent more time with Jack before he did

      • Brock and Jack share a kiss under the stars in a desert and fuck on the hood of their military issued Jeep while their team sleeps in a safe house 20 feet away. 

      • After this mission, that they were able to pull off by the skin of their teeth, Brock and Jack make things official. 

          ◦ Both of them lead relatively private lives and don’t make it known to the rest of the team that they’re seeing each other

      • Three years pass and six months before Project Insight, Brock brings up the idea of getting married for the sake of spousal immunity just in case things don’t go as planned.

          ◦ So they get married, something simple at the court house and neither of them change their names. 

      • Afterward, Brock and Jack are living happily as a married couple and they fantasize about what kind of life they hope to share when Insight goes through and they’re finally free from HYDRA’s demanding grip

      • Project Insight comes along and Brock and Jack meet the infamous Winter Soldier

      • Project Insight launches and things go horribly wrong

      • Brock splits up with Jack at the Trisk, telling Jack to head back out and that he’d meet him outside. 

          ◦ Initially, Jack follows the instructions given. But a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach has him turning around to go and get Brock 

      • The helicarriers crash into the building and Jack gets caught beneath the rubble

      • He’s stuck there for two days before he finally succumbs and the entire time, all he could do was fiddle with his ring and think about Brock.

[avidbeader]

This is the first section of a draft for the Voltron fanfic that is currently dominating my brain. The premise is that soulmates are a thing and can sense with reasonable accuracy the other’s thoughts and feelings. And Shiro and Keith discover they are soulmates at the Garrison.

This was supposed to be a quick little experiment, but I’m already at 6700 words and only a third through the story, at best. We’ll see what happens.

It’s 100% Sheith, no pushing Keith’s age ahead but also probably no M or E rated material. If you don’t care for the ship, don’t read the story.

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It was never a question of fault. Blame had been removed from the equation in regard to soulmates for millennia in religious writings. The scientific advances in the last few centuries had identified and measured the soul bond’s existence, had upped the odds somewhat on two soulmates finding one another. They had even found a way to break the bond in extreme circumstances, but they had come no closer to predicting which two people would be forever linked.

But Shiro derived a great deal of fun in pretending to blame Matt during those months at the Garrison and the first part of the Kerberos Mission.

Matt had been the one to ask Shiro to act as Professor Hedrick’s assistant in the third-level class for hand-to-hand combat. With Ramírez on leave for his sister’s wedding, Hedrick was looking for volunteers among the other junior officers. Matt had assessed the likely possibilities and panicked at the idea that Lawson might do it – the lieutenant knew his stuff but had not developed the knack of demonstrating holds or strikes without going full throttle. So Matt begged Shiro to step up instead and prevent two weeks’ worth of bruises and sprains in the class.

Shiro looked at the line of cadets on the mat before him. Most of them looked to be third years, but a few stood out as second years. Matt grinned at him from his spot near the middle. Then Shiro noticed the boy almost at the end of the line.

He was at least a head shorter than anyone else in the group and had a very slim build. Shiro knew that he was likely a second year and wouldn’t be in this class if he had not proven to the teachers than he was ready, but he looked younger than even a first-year. Shiro tried to watch without being noticed as the class went through warmups and the boy projected an air of confidence that piqued his interest.

Shiro helped Hedrick demonstrate the first attack and defense of the session. It was a simple one, but very effective at turning the defensive move into a throw if timed well. A few of the cadets seemed to think this move was beneath them and grew restive. Hedrick glared at them, then barked, “So, you think this is easy? Get up here and show me, Monroe!”

The cadet who had been most obvious in his boredom got up.

“Let’s see if you have this. Shirogane, attack.”

Shiro readied himself, then launched. The cadet tried to grab his arm and wrestle him down, but moved too late. Shiro brought his other hand around to grab a shoulder and drop his opponent to the mat. Monroe looked up at him, confused and a little angry.

“What you fail to grasp is that it’s timing, not strength. Kogane, I need you up here.”

The boy Shiro had noticed jumped to his feet, shoving his heavy dark bangs out of his eyes, and approached as Monroe slunk back to his seat. Hedrick nodded. “Okay, Shirogane, attack.”

Shiro waited while Kogane set himself, then attacked again. Kogane sidestepped at just the right moment and seized his arm through his sweatshirt. But instead of simply letting Shiro’s momentum carry him through the attack and past him, Kogane held on and pulled down, then up. Unable to tumble, Shiro quickly adjusted into a breakfall and Kogane let go and backed up, resetting his stance.

As Shiro expected, most of the other cadets were impressed by his loud thump against the mat while Hedrick was impressed by Kogane’s performance. “Good job, cadet. That is what this technique is supposed to look like.”

Kogane nodded his thanks and held out a hand to help Shiro to his feet. Shiro grasped it, feeling a sudden and strong flash of heat between their palms…

…as something entered his essence and slotted into the place that had always been there for it…

…he was seeing Keith’s life flash by, like a movie on fast-forward. His mother simply vanished from his life before he started pre-K. His father died from a virulent bacterial infection when he was seven. The string of foster homes, some good and some bad. Choosing to apply to the Garrison to get out of the system sooner. Maxing out every practical test in the flight school program and gaining entry with a full scholarship…

Shiro felt Keith’s hand slipping away and tightened his grip. At some point Matt had moved to his side and was holding him up.

“Shiro? You okay?”

One of the other cadets had jumped forward to catch Keith as his legs seemed to give out. “I think we’ve got a new soul bond. My sister and her soulmate looked like this when they touched for the first time.”

Hedrick looked at the two of them, a little unsure. “Okay, then. Holt, Southerby, escort them to the infirmary. Let’s be sure.”

“I’m fine!” Keith insisted.

“Humor me, cadet. You looked pretty out of it there.”

Keith swallowed but nodded. “Sir.”

Matt and Southerby switched sides so the larger boy could support Shiro and Matt could help Keith. Their progress was slow, as Shiro refused to let go of Keith’s hand the entire way.

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As a child, after the death of his father, Keith had often fantasized about finding his soulmate. In the bad times, shoved into a foster home that was at best ill-prepared and at worst hostile, he would imagine a girl swooping in to fix everything. She was always old enough to actually be able to do something about his situation and always had eyes so light brown that they shimmered like gold.

As he got older and realized that boys were just as interesting as girls, the fantasies faded into curiosity and idle speculation. The odds dictated that the identity of his soulmate was a moot point anyway. Even though something about the bond itself seemed to draw soulmates into each other’s spheres and Terra’s population was increasingly mobile, less than a third of the population actually found their soulmate at all, much less at an age young enough to do something about it.

So by the time Keith had gotten accepted into Galaxy Garrison, he was focused on his current situation. Get his education, train to be a pilot, and achieve what freedom he could grasp in flight. Try to touch the stars. He no longer wondered who his other half was or where they were.

And then, out of the blue, he found Takashi Shirogane.

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After the infirmary staff checked them over and gave them a clean bill of health, they wandered out into the late afternoon sun. They stood there, side by side, each wondering what to do next.

Funny, Shiro thought. All the media stuff about soulmates makes it sound like you’ve found your perfect match. No more awkward silences, no more wondering what your partner is feeling.

“Well, Angela Whitaker is a liar.” Keith’s wry voice broke in.

Shiro glanced at him, startled at the mention of a popular author with a long string of books that portrayed the soul bond turning people into perfect couples. He snorted in laughter. “Was that your feeling or were you sensing me?”

Keith looked up at him and Shiro caught his breath. He had assumed that Keith’s eyes were gray, a little lighter than his own, but in the full light they were a rich violet color.

“I think all I was getting from you was a what-the-hell-do-we-do-now feeling, but since that’s pretty much where my head is, it could be that we are of one literal mind.”

Shiro laughed again. His uncertainty was beginning to fade as he saw the positives of the situation. His newly-discovered soulmate was healthy, very easy on the eyes, and had a sense of humor. They were both part of the Garrison, which meant they were both used to the military culture. From what he had gotten in their initial connection, Keith had no family to take into account. In fact, the only downside Shiro could think of was…

“Sorry for asking, but how old are you? You look young for a second-year.”

“I’m a first year.”

“But you were in the third-level class?”

“They tested me like everyone else.” Keith’s voice turned a bit defensive.

So much for soulmates being so in tune that they never step on each other’s toes. As that old television show would say, myth busted.

“Sorry, it’s just really rare for a first-year to be that good in hand-to-hand.”

Keith shrugged. “One of my early foster parents got me into martial arts classes. I kept it up as best I could even with moving around a lot. And there were plenty of…real-life lessons.”

Shiro’s hand went up and gave Keith’s shoulder a squeeze almost before he realized he was going to do it. “I’m sorry. So you’re how old?”

“Sixteen in a few months.”

Fifteen…he’s six years younger than me…

Age gaps happened with the soul bond. While the data showed that the majority were within three years of each other’s ages, there were millions of soulmates with wider gaps. A gap that was decades apart with the younger still a child was the only guaranteed reason for a separation request to be approved.

“And you?” Keith asked, an edge in his voice. He had obviously picked up on Shiro’s unease.

“Twenty-one. I turn twenty-two next February.”

“Could be worse.” His words were careless but through the bond Shiro could feel Keith rapidly adjusting and deciding that all in all, this was not a bad situation. Shiro stamped down his own worries and smiled.

“Coffee?”

“Sure, but make mine tea. Can’t stand coffee.”

“That’s it, I’m calling this off,” Shiro deadpanned and Keith laughed.

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Nothing could adequately describe the constant presence of the other in their thoughts and sensations. Shiro and Keith learned control, to focus on one’s own surroundings when needed and to relax and let awareness of the other spread through them when possible. They worked to master their reactions if the other had a sudden shift in circumstance after Keith suffering a dislocated shoulder in combat practice caused Shiro to crash in a simulation run.

They spent free time together, eating in the cafeteria and studying in the library. The Garrison did not automatically allow soulmates to share quarters, but did shuffle a few cadets so that Keith no longer had a roommate. As a junior officer Shiro had his own apartment, but they made a point not to spend too much time there alone. They did their best to behave like any two close friends in the Garrison would, keeping most displays of affection out of sight, and gradually the gossip machine found new things to talk about. There would be time enough later to fully explore their bond, after Keith finished his training, after Shiro made senior officer, after their six-year age gap was less of an issue to the people around them.

They assumed there would always be time.

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Concrit and thoughtful opinions are welcome as I continue this. Any brilliant inspirations for a title are also welcome.

Part 2

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 127, October 2018

On Monday morning, Mum and I visited the Bayside Specialist Centre located in Patterson Lakes. It’s hard to explain the source of my nervous energy surrounding my first appointment with consultant psychiatrist Dr. Ricardo Peralta. Personally I do have some rational reasons for getting so worried and worked up about it including the whole new experience of seeking psychiatric treatment for my mental disorders and placing my care into that of a stranger. It’s also difficult to know exactly what to expect during the session. https://www.verywellmind.com/before-your-first-visit-380651

Considering I’ve waited over 5 weeks to see him, I’m making it a big priority of mine to get as mentally prepared as possible. Now I’ve only got one more week to wait until I hopefully get the treatment I need. The good news is that, by doing my research first, I’ve avoided some dodgy psychiatrists who shouldn’t be practicing after the reviews I read about them and also a few that charged fees that were very unreasonable. https://www.yourhealthinmind.org/psychiatry-explained/your-first-appointment

In contrast, Dr. Ricardo Peralta seems pretty reliable, decent and professional so I should be fine. I guess the purpose of today was to have a visual sense of where Dr. Peralta’s private psychiatric clinic is located and also have an idea of where to park my car and to access the centre. It did give me some peace of mind as Patterson Lakes is a lovely coastal town and much quieter than the area which I live in. Plus the centre is very close to the local shops, restaurants and cafes so there are plenty of positives to take away. https://nepeanspecialistgroup.com.au/specialists/dr-ricardo-peralta

On Monday night, I went to a Boxing small group training session at CinFull Fitness in Narre Warren South. Tonight was a challenging class for me on a few different levels. Socially it’ll always be difficult for me to fit in, although I did get recognised by a guy named Andrew and briefly chatted to the others. The problem lies in lack of shared interests and being comfortable enough to open up more. Yep that’s 32 years worth of self awareness right there.

My biggest fears often rise to the surface whenever I’m participating in high intensity physical exercise like a boxing class. Will I be able to handle it? Will I be able to keep on top of my fatigue levels? Will I be able to keep concentrating? I’ve had close calls in the past but never once passed out in a class. I think that would be the ultimate fear for me but thankfully Cinamon Guerin is very mindful about this and my limits when it comes to physical activity.

Tonight we did a combination of boxing drills and cardio exercise which required a lot of mental effort and memorisation of combos. I was partnered up with a girl named Jade who seemed to be a beginner like myself. Of course there was lots of squats, push ups, mountain climbers, Russian twists, star jumps, crab walks and wall holds and I can feel the burn pretty quickly. The most important thing is that I’m constantly trying and never giving up, even when I do struggle and need to take a break.

On Tuesday morning, Mum and I drove down to Mornington to visit Mentis Assist, which is an NDIS service provider specialising in mental health. Honestly I really had no clue what to expect out of “dropping in” to the head office but at this point I was out of ideas. It took a lot of courage and effort to come down to see if they could give me a sense of direction with my NDIS plan. I met with Matt who is the NDIS intake co-ordinator and Tracey who is the NDIS Team Leader. They led us into a small office space to have a discussion. https://mentisassist.org.au/get-in-touch/contact-us

Now the nerves were kicking in fast. Luckily I had my purple display folder filled with notes, information brochures, letters and my official NDIS plan so fall back on if I really struggled to express myself. Thankfully both Matt and Tracey were both friendly, casual and accommodating. They didn’t simply put the pressure on me or ask “What Do You Want?” with impossible expectations on me. It’s difficult when you only have a vague idea yourself.

Instead they asked structured questions about things in my life that I may or may not need some assistance with...social skills, decision making, budgeting, mental health support, counselling, group community activities and life skills development. These were some of the important ones for me and my plan did make some degree of sense to them. https://mentisassist.org.au/what-we-do/our-programs

I signed my first ever service agreement with them and it was a surreal moment for me, that I was finally making some progress and getting myself unstuck from the ditch I was in. Compared to last week, I am feeling a lot more hopeful and optimistic about actually doing something with my NDIS plan and funding and also that I’ve chosen my main provider carefully. https://mentisassist.org.au/ndis

On Tuesday afternoon, I caught up with Tori Norris who is the program co-ordinator for the Men of Doveton group. This was pretty confronting territory for me as I don’t usually open up about my feelings and I felt like I needed to in order to gain closure on this issue. The fact that Tori believed that I deserved to graduate the program was a bit unsettling for me and yet I chose to accept her offer. Her motivations were genuine too. Lately I haven’t had much self-belief and so maybe this was what I needed. To show myself that yeah I do deserve to be successful and have good things happen for me.

On Thursday morning, Mum and I attended the NDIS Plan Implementation information session held inside the private function room at Bunjil Place in Narre Warren. I had a lot of expectations leading up to this info session considering how confused, lost and stressed out I’ve been feeling since receiving my first plan. So it was a relief to hear that other participants and carers were voicing similar concerns and frustrations about their own experiences. No longer did I feel alone in this journey and now my feelings can be validated and heard instead of shoved under the carpet. https://www.ndis.gov.au/participants/understanding-your-plan-and-supports.html

Today’s info session was hosted once again by Sharna from the NDIA. She broke the presentation up in two parts. The first half focused on the different sections of the plan as well as the three types of budgets: Core, Capacity Building and Capital and how the funds are managed. In the second half, she talked about the importance of reading the NDIS Price Guide and turning your plan into supports by connecting to providers, negotiating supports, making a service agreement and then making a service booking. https://www.ndis.gov.au/finding-and-engaging-providers.html

Bringing my Mum along felt like a wise decision so that she could be educated about the NDIS system and just how complex it is to understand and learn. Whilst it was unsettling to hear the negative feedback from several people in the room, it was also justified and made me feel like I wasn’t the only one going through these struggles. It was good to note that more changes and a new plan format will be introduced from mid-November so hopefully improvement is on the way and things will eventually get easier for NDIS participants and carers.

It was also great to see Amanda Stapleton (City of Casey counsellor and ex-mayor) was participating in today’s information session and had some valid questions to ask about her own situation. A man named Bruce from Latrobe Community Health Service was also in attendance and did seem to take all of our feedback today seriously. Whilst I’ve had many frustrations and stumbling blocks in the process so far, I’m trying my hardest to be optimistic about the future as an NDIS participant and actually use my funding for positive change.

On Thursday night, I attended my first group sleep study workshop held at La Trobe University - Psychology Clinic in Bundoora. It’s been a couple of weeks since I started my involvement in the sleep research study for Autistic Adults that I’m participating in and now I’ll be starting to learn ways to hopefully improve my sleep. Driving to Bundoora was honestly a headache mainly because I was in the middle of peak hour traffic and also because I accidentally took the wrong exit off the Eastern Freeway but it’s all learning.

It was just a small group of us: three other participants as well as Dr. Lauren Lawson (Research Fellow), Dr. Eric Morris (La Trobe University Psychology Clinic Director) and Alexis (Provisional Psychologist). Firstly, they briefly explained some concepts about sleep including sleep cycles, the stages of sleep, circadian rhythms and arousal. Next we talked about what is insomnia and the ways many people try to fall asleep.

These “amplifiers” include things like taking sleep vitamins, using lavender spray, playing music, reading, listening to a guided meditation. Whilst they make work occasionally, they’re generally not considered long term solutions. We also talked about the costs of insomnia such as having poor concentration and focus, low energy levels, lack of motivation and drive, feeling more irritable and emotional, impacting on your health and wellbeing, preventing you from doing some daily activities and being a burden on your finances.

This lead into Acceptance and Commitment Therapy or simply Acceptance of things like having worrying thoughts and frustrations about trying to fall asleep, letting go of the struggle and essentially letting go of control. We then discussed the barriers to changing your sleep including fear of change, discomfort, uncertainty, being stuck in current habits, having temptations or resistance.

Lastly, we wrote down a few goals that we wish to achieve relating to sleep including to fall asleep faster and stay asleep longer, have a more regular sleep routine, have less disruptions during the night, have more energy during the day, be able to concentrate and focus better, to be more productive and be able to participate more in daily activities, to lower levels of anxiety and depression.

The good thing about this group is that it’s small, casual and allows anyone to contribute their ideas, thoughts and personal experiences related to sleep and insomnia. Whilst I am quite uncertain about this new approach so far, I’m also open to trying it out. At this point, I’ll literally try anything to help me sleep better. It’s affecting my day to day living, brain function, mood and concentration levels. I’m looking forward to the next workshop.

“What you wanted so had to let it go. Brand new day is coming round the bend. Troubles reaching for the end. If you stray from the path my friend, I will pick you up again.” Alex Lloyd - Brand New Day (2006)

“There's always something taking over my mind. I know I'm crazy and I know you know. I trying harder 'cause I love you so. I want to be special. I want to be good. I want to be happy. I know that I should. Sometimes the truth. Is hard to believe. Some of us stay. And some of us leave.” Alex Lloyd - Special (2008)