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xlehukax · 5 years ago

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Still Beating Heart

Foreword: Hello! I’ve been working on this thing for a little while now, and it’s finally done! This fanfiction is set in the Pediatric Doctors AU that I made, that you can learn more about here. It’s done in conjunction to writings by @eeveeeclair246, to who has the first installment of this series, titled Inefficent Iron, which you can find here. And, if you don’t want to read on Tumblr, I get it! This will also be on Archives in a hot minute, so check my Masterpost for the link. Now, on with the show!

Ships: Roman x Virgil, Implied Remus x Logan

Word Count: 10215

Warnings: LANGUAGE, Alcoholism, Bars, Panic Attacks, Medical Issues (ie. weak hearts), Cheating, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Rape, that creeping feeling of regret.

Summary: Virgil’s always been the quiet nurse, the prickly one, the don’t talk to me unless there’s an issue one. Roman’s fresh out of a relationship, and looking to go out on the town, and needs a friend to go along with. And Virgil can’t say no to his crush, even if they work in the same place.

~~~~

It’s just another day at the office: by that, Virgil means, Patton’s handing out cookies, Logan’s being a work-aholic and refuses to let any of the patients go to Janus, in which is being very meticulous and annoyingly good at his job and refusing to let Virgil do his, Remus is going through the latest urine samples, and Roman is doing what Roman does best. Ranting about his latest breakup while painting his nails in the receptionist booth.

And Virgil just happens to be the only one around, after Patton leads the last patient of the day to Logan and the waiting room finally empties. Virgil simply sighs in defeat, and tries to shrink into his nurse uniform. Let it be known, he did not choose to be there. Or ever.

“Emo, are you even listening?”

“Yup, yes, I am, absolutely,”

“Alright, just had to make sure, you know, you tend to ignore me, which you’d think is impossible but you never cease to surprise me in that regard. Anyway, so this guy, Ethan- total dreamboat, eyes bluer than you’d ever believe. So I met him on this app, and we went for drinks a few weeks ago: and thirty minutes in, I’m in love. He’s a painter. Sweetest guy- we end up at his apartment, and you know- but I was in it for the long haul. Virgil, I was really ready for a long-term with this guy. He seemed like he was down for it too… and then, just yesterday, you know what I found in his apartment?”

“Another person,” Virgil sighs.

“Some floozy, blond and covered in hickeys, and Ethan painting her. Like, I didn’t know what to be more offended about: the fact that he cheated on me or that he doesn’t have a sexy painting of me!”

“Mhmm…” Virgil’s almost fallen asleep, and doesn’t even notice Roman hovering utop him until he’s right in his face.

“Virgil-” Roman shouts, and Virgil startles right into Roman’s arms. Which he now is realizing quite quickly are not just incredibly strong because they hold his weight easily, but landing their faces inches apart. Virgil sucks in a gasp- Roman smirks. “Hey there… you know, you’re not too bad looking yourself. Under all that makeup, you’re quite the princess, aren’t you?” It takes Virgil a moment to craft a response, he’s so scatterbrained and blushing.

“Fuck off Princey, I’m not your latest conquest,” Virgil hisses, still a large flush on his features. Roman flicks his nose.

“Yeah, but you’re still cute. Maybe I should date you~”

“In your fucking dreams- you cycle through boyfriends so fast, I’ll be dust in the wind,”

“Hmm,” Roman still hasn’t let Virgil go, and it is not helping the warmth in his face whatsoever, “Can’t argue with that.” And then Virgil is unceremoniously dumped onto the chair he was sitting in, with Roman towering above him. Did he always have those pretty eyes? He’s got these fantastically plump lips, it really shows when he’s smirking like that. And that hair is quite… quite royal- now that he’s looking at it-

Bloody hell, stop, now’s not the time to fawn, Virgil curses at himself. Virgil has always been introverted, and this- this interaction, Roman’s boldness with him… it’s completely unfamiliar. A bold move, reaching into his space, completely ignoring all of the protective glares and hisses that Virgil had in place. Disregarded his shields completely. Virgil has been harboring a bit of an infatuation with this confident musical wonder as of late, and this is not helping matters. Roman chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, J.Delightful, now I simply must make use of this situation,”

“What are you getting at-” Virgil snarls, to which Roman simply grins widely.

“You’re going to be my new wingman. There’s a open mic at a gay bar I frequent, and if I’m going to find somebody, then I need someone else to be my safety buddy. You know, watch for creepy old men who hit on me and all that jazz,” Roman pushes, eyes alight with excitement, “Patton won’t go with me anymore because he doesn’t like the loud noises, Logan doesn’t drink, I’m not asking Janus to come he’ll scare them all away or steal the attention, and Remus- well, you can probably guess why not Remus, and it’s not because people approach us because we’re twins. I can’t believe I’ve never asked you to come with me! It’ll give us some good outside of work bonding time too. Isn’t it great?”

“I don’t want to,” Virgil grumbles. Roman tuts.

“Oh come on now- am I so hard to be around?” No, Virgil thinks, and that’s the problem. “Pfft, if it’s really so hard, I’ll just cave and bring around someone else.”

“No…” Virgil whispers, so quiet that he’s sure it’s nearly silent, and Roman’s eyebrow perks up.

“Hmm? Was that a no I just heard?”

“I just- I’m not good in social situations, do you even really want me there? I’ll probably just screw your chances, scare people off,”

“Perfect! I’ll need someone to scare someone off,”

“But- I’ll damper on your fun,”

“Never! You will never cease to be fun to poke fun at,”

“I don’t know, Princey. You really want me there?” Virgil says, looking away and speaking in hushed tones still. Roman grabs his pale hands, squeezing them tightly.

“I need you, Virge,” Roman purrs. Virgil blushes harder, somehow, and tucks his head into his shoulder and murmurs his agreement. Damn it. “Wonderful! I’ll pick you up at 9, how does that sound?”

“Wait, tonight?” Virgil squawks. Roman drops his hands, blessedly, and steps back from him shrewdly. Smart, as Virgil’s immediate response is to throw a punch. Roman easily sidesteps.

“Oh, yes- did I not mention that? Tonight. It’s Friday,” Roman nods, smiling wickedly. Oh my god, I need to bathe, I need to find something nice-ish to wear, unearth my good eyeshadow, fuck it all I need new skin-

“Hey, hey, don’t freak. You don’t have to get all fancy for me: wear what makes you comfortable, and I’ll stop by your apartment at 9,”

“Wait a second- how do you know where I live?” Virgil says, suddenly horrified. Roman snickers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Uh, yes I would,” Virgil growls.

“Pfft, I need to know everyone’s addresses, I’m the receptionist, Virge. It’s my job,” Roman scoffs. Virgil blushes: well, now he feels foolish. But it reminds him: Roman and himself work together. It doesn’t matter if something comes out of this, as it is- Remus and Logan are constantly being sickeningly cute around the office. The real problem is if he screws this up, and still has to go to work with him the next day. This is a really bad idea. But… When will he have another golden opportunity like this one?

“Okay, okay- 9, right?”

“Yes! Thank you, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance- you’re going to have so much fun. I’ll sing a song just for you, as thanks,” Roman grins cheekily, Virgil blows the hair out of his eyes, attempting nonchalant despite the whirlwind of anxiety confined within.

“Alright, fine, whatever. Should I- should I dress a certain way? Wait, is there a dress code? How much money should I bring? Is it credit or cash? Do they have food there? Will I have to dance?” Virgil shudders at the thought of dancing, even with Roman, who is currently blinking rapidly under the onslaught of questions.

“Okay erm, just dress how you normally do? Scratch that, a peg hotter than a hoodie, thank you. No dress code, have you ever been to a bar? Just bring your wallet, think about how many drinks you want, and I’m dancing whether you’re going to or not, so-”

Virgil takes notes internally, already too worried about this whole ordeal. He should really just cancel, say he just remembered something, but he knows he’ll regret that later. Either way, the only other thing he’s doing tonight is hanging with his spider, Missy, and watching Unsolved Mysteries. So…

“I’ll- I’ll see you later then, Princey,” Virgil murmurs, before gathering the few things he has around him and breezing past whilst trying to make it appear like he’s not running away.

“See you!! At least pretend to be excited- It’s going to be one hell of a night, Virge- you won’t regret this!”

As Virgil silently clocks out (Patton will take over the end of the day nurse activities, it’s fine) he thinks to himself, I certainly hope not.

~~~~~

And then, it’s already 8:50, too soon. Virgil showered, twice, because the first time he used his usual unscented body wash for work and not the one that smells like lavender and violets and by jove Roman inviting him out after work deserves more than unscented. Then the clothes resulted in a mini fashion show in front of the mirror for an hour, where upon he finally settled on a black button down over a grey undershirt with some black ripped jeans (it took him another 25 minutes to decide on mostly untucked in a ‘I just threw this on’ careless feel), and his favorite purple and black hoodie just in case it got cold… of which he ended up shivering right away anyhow and put it on anyway.

And then a whole other hour on makeup: a very tasteful black eyeliner and purple and black smokey eye with just a hint of dark glitter. Some lipstick, and a little dust on his cheekbones, and Virgil finally felt confident, an emotion that lasted all of ten minutes when he realized that he hadn’t chosen a pair of shoes yet.

The shoes took another thirty minutes alone. And then the idea of changing his hair up a little occurred to him, and that was another hour wasted that ended with keeping his regular low-hanging hair anyway.

And now he’s trying not to look like he’s waiting, because he doesn’t want to be waiting on Roman, but he needs to see if his car comes up, but he doesn’t want to be desperate, so he’s panicking slightly in his apartment with all the lights off because he was going to leave and now he’s freaking out instead, because he doesn’t know if it’s more appropriate to wait for Roman to text him that he’s outside and head downstairs after that or to just head downstairs now like a normal person or maybe he just shouldn’t go. His head slowly stops pounding, and his breath evens out, the oncoming anxiety attack fading away with the thought. Yeah, maybe Virgil can stay home instead- there’s too many variables anyway.

When Virgil was young, he was always making decisions like this. He was sick, not like crazy-sick, but sick. Anemia, coupled with coronary heart disease, topped off with bronchitis. He had weak lungs, weak heart, weak blood- his whole body was frail, and sometimes his blood didn’t move around fast enough to make him work right. There was no running around, no nothing: he was constantly worried about every little thing, because his parents were. Did you take your pills today? How was your bloodwork? Are you feeling woozy? Until Virgil just stopped leaving the house whatsoever. It was just easier. There was no chance of passing out while crossing a street and getting run over, never going to embarrass himself at school by having a heart attack…

And wouldn’t you know, staying at home made him only sicker. No muscle mass whatsoever, pale as a ghost, always so cold, so frail from not getting enough nutrients. His parents made the best decision of their lives and set him down the path that led him here by… by hiring a nurse. A kind nurse, with funny jokes and encouragement, who helped him go outside for the first time in months. Who taught him little things to make him stronger, like light weights. Virgil grew out of his heart disease, and though he still had bronchitis and anemia, he regularly took medications which made them easy to handle. And just like that, Virgil was no longer sickly (at least externally, he still had anxiety, but he’s managing it). Then he was a normal teenager, who wanted to be strong enough to help someone in the same way that nurse had.

Here Virgil is now- and he’s not going to fall into that same loop he was in as a kid. He’s better now, medicating only when needed. Virgil is all lean-muscle, and he’s better than his anxiety. He can totally go on a date-not-a-date with his crush to a gay karaoke bar. Totally. Taking a deep breath, Virgil checks his phone (which is fully charged with two mini backup batteries on his keys tucked into his back pocket) and realizes with horror that Roman texted a whole six minutes ago while Virgil was panicking that he was waiting downstairs.

“Shit!” Virgil slams his door, and just runs down the stairs instead of taking the elevator (he only lives on the fourth floor anyway, because anything higher than like 10 fire ladders can’t get to and there’s a 50% possibility of surviving a fall from four stories), and hopes his meticulous makeup job isn’t ruined. By Roman’s expression, he doesn’t think it did-

He had been grinning teasingly, mouth open to say some quip, but his jaw goes slack when he sees Virgil. Roman’s eyes are wide, leaning up against his red car, as he watches Virgil stop by the curb only a few feet in front of him. Roman whistles.

“Damn, Virgil… you look- damn. Wowza, do you clean up nice,” Roman falls over his words, making Virgil flush. Roman thinks I look good- I did good, it’s all good.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Princey,” Virgil whispers. Because really, he doesn’t: Roman’s white dress shirt has the top two buttons undone, showing off his pectorals and just a hint of his abs, and some nice pants. His hair is done over to the side, and one crown earring hangs from an ear. It’s really a delightful look, but makes Virgil feel out of place with his dark clothes and his heavy makeup. Roman only has a light bit. “Did I go overboard? I can- I can wash it off,” Virgil asks, hating that he’s offering to change this intensive and difficult look for a stupid guy.

“No, no- you look gorgeous. Seriously Virge, you should do my makeup. Like, I feel outdone, and I never feel that way! Come on, get on in, let’s go,” Roman shoos Virgil into the car, where he feels just as much if not more awkward. Still, he’s excited, out of this world excited: Roman likes how he looks. Roman finds him attractive, and they’re going to the club, together.

Not together, Virgil- you’re just his buddy. Virgil has to remind him that this is not a date, that he’s gotten all worried and dressed up for sitting at a bar and watching Roman flirt with other men. It makes his heart ache, but at least they’re together now .

“We’re almost there, Emo. You ready to have a good time?”

“I uh- erm, I mean. Yeah. Yeah sure, I’ll have fun sitting in the corner doing fucking nothing, that’s what I’m ready for,” Virgil’s suddenly defensive and feels horrible about the crude outburst.

“Oh my- Virge, do you not want to go? I don’t want to force you into anything!” No, I do, I do!

“Eh, it’s whatever. I got all dressed up, be a shame to not go out. I just- I don’t like to- I’m-”

“I know you don’t like being left alone! Don’t worry, I’ll be close by the whole time. I’ll watch you if you watch me, yeah?”

“Why are you so worried about being watched? You’ve clearly been to a lot of these things…” Virgil changes the subject to hide his flush at Roman’s empathy for him.

“Ah, well- I have been to a lot of these things, and I’ve had some… unfavorable experiences. A few times now, guys have put stuff in my drinks, or waited for me to get drunk and then take me home. It’s… it’s not what I want. I go to meet new people, not to get a one-night stand that I didn’t want. They don’t make me feel good. I hate it,” Roman growls at the road, and Virgil makes what might be a rash decision and places his long pale hands on Roman’s tanned worn ones by the gearshift. Roman looks over at him, and Virgil ducks his head. Roman smiles.

“I’ll watch out for you, I promise. I don’t really drink either, ‘cuz of my blood issues, so I can drive home too,” Virgil murmurs, still looking away. Roman moves his hand around, grips his tightly. Virgil doesn’t look at it, but knows they’re intertwined, and it makes his head hurt.

“Thank you, Virge. Aaand, we’re here,” the bar is bright in the dark evening, a neon sign advertising it, and Roman pulls into a parking space behind the building. He takes his key, and reaches out to put it in Virgil's pocket. “Don’t trust myself to hand em over, this thing’s my baby. I’m trusting you, though, and you gotta be good about that, alright?”

Virgil nods, and allows Roman to exit the car and help him out the other side. Roman throws his arm over Virgil’s shoulders, and saunters into the bar. As expected, it is loud. Someone’s already singing, a song by Chicago, and is doing pretty okay. There are bright lights here and there, some spots illuminated completely and others in darkness. There’s a whole load of people here too: some make eyes at him as he walks in. Virgil sticks to Roman, who chuckles, as they both head to the bar. The bartender seems to recognize Roman.

“Here for the open mic, are you, King?”

“You know it! Sign me right on up,” Roman laughs. Roman’s arm drops from Virgil’s shoulders. The bartender rolls his eyes, swipes some green dyed locks from his vision and writes Roman’s name on a pad.

“What song are you singing?”

“It’s a surprise, like usual, Vincent, I don’t know why you even bother asking,”

“Uh huh. And I see you brought a friend… you wanna sing too, baby-cheeks?” Vincent asks, leaning forwards.

Virgil hisses at him, then clears his throat.

“I don’t fucking sing,” he snarls, adding in his mind, in public. Vincent smiles knowingly.

“Aha, a feisty one. You really know how to pick em’, eh? Can I get you a drink then?” Virgil feels like he’s about to explode: this is not what he signed up for. He is here to be with Roman and watch out for him, not take this guy’s shit. Roman notices, and slings his arm once more over him.

“Nah, just a work colleague. He’s a nurse~ and doesn’t drink. It’s a shame, I know, but it’ll work better in my favor anyway. I’ll save money on the taxi. Incredible Sulk, how does a black coffee sound?”

“I guess that’s okay,” Virgil grumbles, glaring at this man even as he shrugs and complies. They both take a seat at the bar, Roman ordering some complicated fancy thing to match his personality and Virgil immediately hunching over his hot coffee. It’s surprisingly good for a bar, bitter yet flavourful, and Virgil finds himself smiling down at it.

“Eh, I think that smile says it’s more than just okay!” Roman purrs, shimmying closer to Virgil and bumping their shoulders. It seems as though the alcohol is already having an effect, his disposition somehow brighter. Virgil shies away slightly. Someone else saddles up to the bar and introduces himself. This man has long swoopy raven hair, and is even more lanky than Logan. He leans by Roman, eyes colder than Virgil would like. The dark haired fellow decides to listen in on the conversation… just in case.

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” the stranger says. Roman puts his hand on the bar, slurps the rest of his drink down in one go.

“I’m not sure- I do tend to get around. Where do you think you know me from, blue eyes?” Oh no. The guy’s got blue eyes, he didn’t even notice that. Virgil mourns his only chance at getting with Roman- this guy’s stealing it.

“Oh, I know! The theatre, right? You were Jason Dean in the Heathers production! Scary shit, man. You’re a fantastic singer. Hey, can we get another drink?” the stranger waves over Vincent, who fixes Roman another bright cocktail. Roman immediately starts fiddling with the straw, and looks up at the stanger.

“The name’s Roman. What’s yours?”

“I’m Lucian. It’s nice to meet you. Man, it’s so loud here: I wish we could go~,” Lucian says. Virgil narrows his eyes at the stranger, takes another sip of coffee. Roman smirks, and turns and winks at Virgil as if to say Look at this catch. Virgil tries to smile, but is pretty sure it’s just a grimace. It may just be Virgil’s luck (despite how it affects Roman) but Virgil notices Lucian dropping something in Roman’s drink. Virgil slams the table, slaps Lucian, and pushes the drink away. He fists his hand in Lucian’s shirt, able to lift the man a foot or two in the air. Patrons gawk at the events unfolding, Roman seems shocked.

“Don’t fucking touch Roman’s drink, what the fuck did you put in there you bastard?”

“Dude- that’s my drink. It was a little additive, I can consume alcohol without risk without it! He seemed to be enjoying it so much, I asked for one too, can you please- let me down, you’re hurting me-” Virgil snarls, but drops him anyway. Roman touches Virgil’s shoulder gently.

“He’s right, it’s his drink, Virgil. Thank you for defending me, but really it’s okay-” Roman reassures him, smiling placatingly, and all Virgil can feel is embarrassed. Embarrassed out of his mind and his anxiety is shooting through the roof.

“I-I… I- uh… I-” to make matters worse, another man comes stomping up to him, throws his drink on Virgil. His hoodie is now soaked, his shirt too. Virgil’s lower lip trembles. He grits his jaw against them, holding it in. Despite the fact that he’s made a total fool of himself in front of Roman. Virgil wants to bite his nails, to go home, to run away and never return. This new man points his finger right in Virgil’s face.

“Who the hell do you think you are, grabbing my husband’s shirt like that?” he growls. Virgil wants to hide in his sopping wet hoodie. Hide and never come back.

“I- erm, uh- umm-”

“My friend here is very sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Hey, can I buy the both of you a drink? Tell me how you met,” Roman leads them both away, looking pityingly at Virgil, “How bout you go to the bathroom and clean yourself up a little, huh? I’ll take care of this.”

Virgil ducks his head and runs with his tail between his legs. He throws himself into the surprisingly clean stall and locks it tight before falling down on the seat fully clothed. I can’t believe you did that you fucking idiot you’ll never shape up what were you thinking doing some stupid stunt like that? You’ve ruined it. Ruined everything. There’s no way Roman will ever want you now. Virgil’s panic attack is coming on quickly, like a train hurtling down a track with no end in sight. He doesn’t want it to happen, but he starts to cry.

Usually, Virgil looks to his familiar hoodie for comfort. But his hoodie is soaked, and Virgil is shivering in it. He should take it off. But he doesn’t want to, he just wants to wallow in it and wither away.

You’ll never amount to anything. You should have just stayed inside: no one would have missed you. Roman had to clean up after your mess, you were supposed to be helping and now you’re just rotting in the bathroom like an idiot. Why did you even come, if you’re just going to be a let down?

Virgil’s breath is coming out in uneven gasps, his heart is palpitating dangerously. He really shouldn’t be alone, he should go out and- no, no, no. His skin is too tight, his head is too small, and his hands are pressing bruises into his arms, he is holding them so tight. What is he supposed to do again? When his thoughts get too big for his mind and he feels like fainting, feels like how he was when he was younger and like his heart could just give out any minute and the next time he blinked open his eyes he’d be on a hospital bed.

His hazy, anxiety-filled mind vaguely recalls a conversation he had with Logan once, after he had pulled him back from an attack in the workplace (he mixed up two patients and fell apart in an empty room) that he should… he should ask for help. Call me, he had said, no matter the time. Just call me for help, and I’ll talk it out with you.

Logan is on speedial, Logan, Logan can help- with shaking fingers, Virgil can just make out the emergency phone button on his cell to call Logan.

The ringing of the phone helps station Virgil, stations him better than the pain in his hands. It picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello, Doctor Logan Berry speaking.”

“Logan,” Virgil’s voice sounds so fucking raspy and teary, sounds so horrendously uncertain, “You- you said to call, and- if you’re busy just hang up, it’s fine you don’t have to worry, actually this was a bad idea, I’m going to hang up-”

“You will do no such thing, Virgil. Stay on the line with me. Scale of one to ten, how bad?”

“I- uh, I dunno, probably like- like a seven? I messed everything up, Lo, I- fuck, I can’t do anything right-”

“Well, that is one foul-tempered lie. Let’s calm down first, yes, and then you’ll tell me all about what happened. I’m sure it’s better than it seems,” Janus’s voice, even hindered through the phone, forces Virgil to relax. He had no idea that Janus could hear, but apparently they’re together. His mind recalls lamely that tonight is when they get together to go over payments and make sure everything is in order. A part of him is glad that Janus can hear; He’s like a hypnotist with his voice, a snake. Virgil nods, then another wave of idiocy flows through him because it’s over the phone.

“Okay, Virgil, now exhale through your mouth. I want to hear it through the telephone,” Logan instructs, no nonsense.

Virgil shakily breathes out.

“Good. Now close your mouth and inhale quietly through your nose. I’m going to count to four, alright?”

“O-okay,” Virgil complies, breathing it in. Janus counts him off rhythmically over the phone: Logan’s on the right and Janus on the left, and the result is relaxing.

“Hold your breath now for seven seconds. I’ll count for you once more.” Janus-

“Exhale again, for a total of eight seconds. Here we go-” Logan-

“Exceptional work, darling. You’re doing so well. Let’s repeat the process a few more times, how does that sound?” Janus-

Holy hell, do they make a good team.

And just like that, Virgil feels better. His chest eases, his mind soothes, and he’s no longer shaking.

“Thank you, both of you. That was- it was really fucking helpful. I don’t know what would happen if I was here alone,”

“If you don’t mind me asking… where is here?” Logan asks, dry and with no sense of privacy whatsoever.

“I’m at a bar with Roman. He- he invited me, because he wanted backup, and I made a total fool of myself. I got all aggressive on this guy who did nothing wrong,”

“Aha, jealous?” There’s a sound of Janus wrestling the phone from Logan, much to his displeasure, “Just finish this weeks, Berry-” is heard through the phone.

“Maybe… hey, wait a second! Who told you-”

“I’m not blind, Virgil. Nor stupid. Don’t even try that on me. It might work on the nerd, and even Remus and Patton, but unlike them, I’m not clueless,”

Virgil pouts, grunting softly. Is he really that obvious?

“Whatever! And now… I’ve got no chance with him. I don’t know why I even came here, anyone could see that it was a stupid idea.”

“No- well, yes, this was very stupid and most likely going to end in strife, but you still certainly have a chance! Remember, this is Roman we’re talking about: he’s a carousel when it comes to men, always changing.”

“That’s part of the issue, Jan- where am I? I’ll be left behind, and have to watch as he finds a another and another and another-”

“You’re starting to panic again, Virgil. Calm yourself. And I know that won’t happen.”

“How?”

“You’re more perceptive, attentive, and caring than any of those guys will ever be. Roman would be even more of an idiot than either of us could possibly imagine if he were to let you go. Again, I am not blind: I see how good you are with the patients. You are careful and thoughtful. Despite how you might see yourself, Virgil, you are a good person. A wonderful person, who makes mistakes, but always fixes them. You do not leave them behind you. You feel empathy, and guilt, two very humane things, and you remedy your problems. That’s what happened with me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess, I guess you’re right,” Virgil’s blushing again. It’s true, that he doesn't like to leave things unsaid or unfinished: it makes him terribly worried, and the only solution he’s found is confronting them head on. Janus and Virgil had met long ago, when they were both younger: Janus had just started medical practices, and done work for Virgil. It ultimately failed and hurt Virgil more, which sparked deep hatred on Virgil’s side and a continued regret on Janus’s. They eventually reconciled, reuniting later when Virgil started out as a nurse, and everything had become much better.

“Now, get back out there, darling. You’ll do great.”

“...Thanks, Janus,”

“Anytime,” and with that, Janus hangs up the phone to return to Logan. Virgil sighs to himself, and exits the stall: in the mirror, he sees his makeup all ruined. He washes it off, cleans his hoodie (which is relatively drier now) and ends up taking off the damp shirt as well. Thank goodness he’s wearing an undershirt: walking out topless seems hellish, and this only slightly better.

It’s been a while since Virgil has gone anywhere without his hoodie on or makeup. He barely recognizes himself, and he sees this face every morning. But… it’ll be what it’ll be. Checking his phone, Virgil realizes that he’s been in the bathroom for… nearly two hours?

Oh my god, I hope Roman hasn’t left yet- Virgil flies out of the bathroom, holding his damp dress shirt and beloved hoodie in one crooked arm. Scanning the room, he notices Roman sitting at one of the small square tables watching some guy sing “Mad World” somewhat decently. Virgil sighs in relief, and walks over and sits right in front of him.

“Princey, thank god you’re still here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Virgil says, his voice softer than usual from all the crying. Roman looks at him, a smile curving on his features.

“Hello there, you’re- you’re pretty,” Roman slurs slightly mid sentence, and Virgil gapes. Roman is drunk. Very drunk. So drunk, that he doesn’t recognize Virgil without his makeup and hoodie. While Virgil stares openmouthed, Roman reaches over and squeezes his bicep. “Ooh, you’re so strong too! Pretty face, and a hot body-”

“Roman, you seriously don’t recognize me? Honest to god?” Virgil insists. Roman blinks slowly, but there’s no spark. Roman seriously has no idea, Virgil’s a stranger.

He should probably bring him home.

Or… he can start over. Roman won’t remember it anyway: this might be his only chance.

“I think I’d remember such a handsome prince” Roman huffs. Virgil, unsurprisingly, blushes.

“That’s very kind of you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” Virgil purrs.

“Oh- you’re a flirt too! I like you,” Roman smiles widely, “Do you want to get another drink?”

“I think you’ve had enough… do you want to go up and sing instead?” Virgil suggests, scooching closer to Roman. Touching his clothed shoulder, he feels how warm Roman is. Roman snuggles up to Virgil just a tad- he’s over affectionate, and with no filter, and no sense. It’s adorable, and Virgil is glad he got here when he did, because who knows who would take advantage of this cuddly child-like man?

Now he understands why Roman needs a drinking buddy.

“I love singing, I’m very good at it. I like Disney too. Do you like Disney?”

“Yes, I like Disney,” Virgil snorts. They’ve had this debate over and over: the both of them like the franchise, though Virgil sees the darker bits that Roman tends to ignore.

“You wanna- you wanna sing Love is an Open Door with me? I like that song, it’s a good song-” Roman rambles, looking excited. Virgil hates public speaking, let alone public speaking, but… he doesn’t know anyone here, what’s the issue?

“That sounds good. Let’s go sign up, shall we?” Virgil suggests, Roman excitedly clinging to Virgil’s arm.

“You’re so cold, it’s so nice,” Roman murmurs, rubbing his face on Virgil’s bare shoulder. Virgil can’t help but smile: his heart is beating fast, but in a fantastic way. Vincent doubletakes as they make it to the bar.

“Hey you two- heading home? Ro looks pretty slammed…”

“I’ll take him home in a bit. He wants to do one more song,” Virgil explains. Roman giggles, and Virgil’s heart does another flip. His smile widens.

“Ah, sorry folks- Roman can’t do another one. He’s already exhausted the limit of five: you should have heard him sing some of those. An undercover celebrity, he is,” Vincent reaches over and mussies Roman’s hair, to which Virgil slaps his hand away.

“Princey, did you hear? You can’t sing another one,” Virgil tells him, his voice still soft.

“Aww, really? I wanna- I wanna sing some ‘ore,” Roman pouts, his lower lips trembling. Virgil kisses his cheek, just a peck really, that’s all he can manage without exploding. Roman turns on a dime, sadness morphing to elation all at once. He leans in for another, to which Virgil declines, pushing him away with a palm.

“Hey, how about I sing a song for you, huh? How does that sound?” Virgil asks, nervous beyond anything at singing in front of all these people, but Roman seems so ecstatic at the thought that Virgil knows he’ll be going through with it.

“You sing? But you just-” gawks Vincent. Virgil glares at him.

“Don’t act so surprised. And yes, I do. Just didn’t feel like saying it. Totally. When do I go up?”

“After this guy,” Vincent points at the person going on stage, and Virgil steels himself for this experience. It’s okay, you’re the only one who’ll remember. It’ll be fine. Virgil starts walking closer to the stage, Roman hanging on him still. “Hey, dude, are you going to tell me what you’re singing? I’ll set it up for you,”

“I got it. We’re good, right Princey?”

“I’m so good, I’m the best, you’re so nice, gonna sing a song for me-” Roman rambles. Virgil shakes his head good-humoredly, adoring this side of him. Not suave or fanciful at all: only cute. They come to a table right by the stage, miraculously empty and clean.

“Okay, Ro, you wanna sit here and watch?” Roman smiles, nodding quickly, and plops down in one of the chairs. Virgil goes beside him, fanning his confidence by reaching for his large hand. Just like in the car, Roman takes it and squeezes.

“I’m so moved, you’re going to sing something for me! So romantic!” Roman gushes. Virgil blushes, rubbing his thumb on Roman’s sun-kissed hand.

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking. Or any of this stuff… but you’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter. I really really like you, Roman. I’ve known you for a while, so it wasn’t all at once, but you tease me with all of your flirty winks and tell me about how much you get around and today, calling me pretty- you’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice. You never do, and- Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend. I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that. You like- you like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that. Except for today, when I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing. It’ll just be for me. Just for me to remember, for you to enjoy now. You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me. Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Virgil tells him, under the lights and despite the singing in the background. Roman blinks a few times, not understanding.

“I- uhm… I don’t understand, whadda ya mean?” Roman squints at him. Virgil sighs, presses their foreheads together and gets up.

“Doesn’t matter. I only want to say… whatever, it doesn’t matter. It’s my turn to go,” and Virgil pulls away, waving slightly to the confused man, and hunches his shoulders to make him look small as he walks to the center of the stage. Scrolling through the music (it operates sort of like a karaoke machine), Virgil selects a song he knows.

Virgil doesn’t particularly like his singing voice: his mother loves it, would sing along with him during Nightmare Before Christmas, and told him it was very nice. It’s kind of low, gentle, and the words flow into the next.

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through… you’re barely waking, and I’m tangled up in you,” Virgil sings quietly. It’s awkward, and he can’t look out into the audience at all, and he hears them ignore him. He takes a deep breath, and continues. “I’m open, you’re closed. Where I follow, you’ll go. I worry I won’t see your face light up again,”

People are starting to notice Virgil, as his voice rises, and it’s frightening but also exhilarating. He refuses to make eye-contact with them, unlike Roman who always does, and speaking of him- it’s very clear that Roman’s watching, enraptured. Virgil can practically feel it.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme- Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I, collide,” Someone in the crowd whistles, causing Virgil to struggle a bit, but he picks it up right after. He’s imagining that it’s only him and Missy and- Roman. Virgil glances up at Roman barely: he’s awestruck, and it fills Virgil’s heart with glee.

“I’m quiet you know.You make a first impression. But I’ve found I’m scared to know you’re always on my mind,” Virgil messes up the lyrics a bit, but no one notices at all. They’re cheering him on, listening attentively- it helps him go on, return his gaze to the floor.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine, out of the back you fall in time, somehow find, you and I- collide,” Virgil’s voice is still quiet: even as his confidence rises, he can’t seem to raise it at all.

“Don’t stop here. I’ve lost my place. I’m close behind,” Virgil used to sing this song with his parents, when he was young: his mother and father would sing and dance with him. It has sentimental value, it reminds him of childhood and pain and love and survival. They used to sing it to him, comforting him with the words. He knows every one.

“Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills your mind, you finally find that you and I collide. Finally find that you and I collide. You finally find you and I collide,” the music plays for a while longer, with Virgil humming along rhythmically. When it finally fades out, Virgil scurries off the stage to thunderous applause. It is way too much attention, all at once. On his way, he grabs Roman’s sleeve, dragging him out as people fawn. As they rapidly exit, Vincent calls out from the bar.

“Hey, grump- I don’t sing, my ass! You sing gorgeous! Come back anytime, with or without Roman!” Virgil glares at him, and then he’s out into the parking lot.

“Phew- that was- oh my god, that was exhilarating. Roman? What did… what did you mmfp-” Virgil was smiling until he was cut off by Roman’s lips on his. Virgil moans into it: it’s more decadent than he could have ever imagined. Roman’s lips are deceptively soft and taste like strawberries. He finally moves back for air, and Virgil leans against the car, holding his mouth. Did… did that just happen? It takes a second to register that a) Roman kissed him, and b) that it doesn’t matter because he’s not in his right mind. It’s worth nothing beyond right now… but it means so so much. Virgil will remember this for the rest of his godforsaken life.

“Ro-Roman, what was that for?” Virgil murmurs, touching his lips addictively.

“You’re the kindest guy I’ve ever met. God, I want to take you home. Handsome, and sweet, and caring and a voice of an angel. I wish I met you forever ago,” Roman says, approaching closer to Virgil until he’s pressed up against the car and can feel Roman’s warmth, “Fuck… I don’t even know your name, but you’re… you’re magic,”

“You’re making me seem better than I am, really,” Virgil flushes, feeling all sorts of fuzzy feelings. Roman chuckles, coming in closer to lean his head on Virgil’s shoulders.

“I don’t… I don’t think I am, beautiful… I just- I don’t want to go home alone tonight. I’m so freaking lonely, all the goddamn time. So lonely… it’s only me, and no one really cares, when it comes down to it,” Roman sighs, on the verge of tears. Virgil is dumbfounded: who would have thought? Roman, the Prince of Theatre, who sings songs to children and flirts easily, and never is by himself because he’s a magnet for conversation… is lonely.

“Maybe we can be lonely together,” Virgil whispers aloud, meaning it to be internal but slipping out anyway.

“Can… can we?” Roman pleads, “Please?” Virgil exhales: he’s so cute. Remember though- he’s not going to recall any of this. It hurts, all of a sudden, that Virgil is at once Roman’s world and at the same time an illusion.

“Alright, alright. We’ll see,” Virgil smiles at him. Roman leans down for another kiss, and now Virgil lets him. What’s the harm? I’m the only one who will hurt. I can take it. “I should take you home now, huh? You can’t drive, you’re drunk,”

“Pfft- I am not-”

“You are,” Virgil rolls his eyes, unlocking his car, “Now get in.” Roman shuffles his feet around. Virgil glares.

“In the car, Princey, you have to go home now,” he demands. Roman frowns, looks away stubbornly. And, just like a puppy, he’s adorable but persistent as all hell. Roman murmurs something under his breath, inaudible. Glancing at him kinder, Virgil asks him to speak up.

“I don’t wanna go home, I wanna stay with you,” Roman mumbles, slightly louder. And, Virgil is struck right in the heart. My god, is it even legal to be that cute? Virgil sighs: he should bring Roman to his house, that’s what he had asked before he was intoxicated, and he definitely can’t take advantage of him, but… those eyes are begging for him to stay with him. He can’t refuse.

“Okay, okay, you win. It’s going to be impossible to explain this to you in the morning, but whatever! I’ll drive you to my house,” Virgil agrees, and the look of pure elation on Roman’s face is more than reward enough. Though Virgil has to help Roman’s wobby body into the passenger seat and buckle him up, he can’t stop smiling.

Even as he starts the car to drive it home.

Even as Roman says he’s going to be sick.

Even as he has to rush Roman upstairs to his apartment before he pukes all over the place, Virgil is happy.

Roman hugs Virgil’s middle after he cleans him up. Missy and Roman get along swimmingly, Virgil offering to let him hold her, and Roman enraptured by her. He’s enthralled by Virgil lending him a toothbrush, seemingly blessed by the offering of a piece of toast to calm his stomach at the small kitchen bar. Roman stares at it, sitting on one of the stools.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he wonders. Virgil frowns. Are people usually unkind to you?

“This is normal, Princey. People are supposed to look out for one another,”

“Oh. Yeah,” Roman says to himself. Virgil can’t hold back from reaching over and kissing his forehead.

“Anytime you need, I’ll be nice to you. I don’t mean to be so prickly: it’s a defense mechanism. You only have to tell me you’d like some care, and I’ll give you everything,” Virgil tells him. This charming man, he hiccups and his eyes water as he blubbers. Virgil is good with a lot of things: crying crushes are not one of them. “Hey, no crying, don’t cry! Let’s go to bed, huh? Yeah, that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Roman makes a pitiful little nod, and Virgil leads him to the bedroom. There’s only one… so either they share, or Virgil’s going to the couch. So, he tucks Roman into the warm black duvet and brushes his forehead as a way of good night. As he goes to leave, Roman grabs onto his arm.

“Stay with me? Please?”

“Ro, I don’t- I don’t think this is a good idea, buddy. No, it’s really not a good idea,” his heartbeat is picking up again, and Virgil bites his lip nervously. Roman ignores it, pulls his hand to kiss it.

“Stay with me, princess,” he purrs. Are you trying to kill me? Roman’s too attractive, too flirtatious. And Virgil’s too head over heels to say no. And that’s how he finds himself sharing his bed with Roman King.

Who fell asleep almost immediately, and snuggled up right into Virgil’s side. So close, that there is a permanent blush on Virgil’s face and his breath on his neck. Okay, this is not going to work. I’m never going to get to sleep if this goes on. Fuck.

Virgil shuffles away, attempting to get out of bed and go sleep on the couch, but Roman slings and arm over him and growls “Stay”.

Well, can’t argue with that, now can I?

~~~~~~

When morning filters through the window, Roman blinks awake. Jiminy Cricket, does his head hurt. Ugh, what happened last night? This isn’t his bed: it’s not colourful at all, all blacks and purples. For goodness sakes, the curtains that are blocking most of the sun have spiders on it. Roman rubs his eyes: did he go home with someone? He must’ve. But who? Roman can’t really recall: he doesn’t remember talking to anyone. After Virgil ran out to the bathroom, Roman just wanted to drink and be alone. Anyone who approached him was turned away instantly by one of his cold stares.

He couldn’t help but feel as though it was sort of his fault: he said he’d be with him. That Roman would leave Virgil alone. And yet… he was in the bathroom for two hours, and not once did Roman gather the courage to go and check on him. And then what? Then he went to some strangers home and left Virgil?

What kind of asshole would do that to someone? Virgil, despite how he acts, is amazingly perceptive. He can tell when something is wrong, it’s why he’s so good as a nurse… he’s just genuinely a good person. And Roman left him?

He can’t imagine he’d do that to the emo, even drunk. He wouldn’t be able to forget Virgil, would he?

No, he really has no clue.

Think, Roman, think- he presses his hands to his pounding head, as if it would squeeze out a memory. All that happens is scraps of a song. Oh great, not only do I have no idea where I am but now there’s a song stuck in my head. Wonderful.

“Even the best fall down sometimes, even the wrong words seem to rhyme-” he murmurs under his breath. Then an image follows right after: a man, holding onto the microphone at the bar, singing the words so soft, so sweetly. It makes his heart pang, it’s so lovely. Is that the guy I went home with? Roman thinks to himself. He focuses harder on the memory. The man, he looks up shyly, nervously, and meets eyes with Roman.

God, he’s fucking beautiful. Love at first sight? Maybe not, but whatever this is, it’s as close to that as it could possibly be. It makes Roman feel all warm and bubbly inside. He bites his lip and looks at the ceiling of this stranger’s bed. Things come back in bits and pieces all out of order; kissing that man by a car, his car- that man laughing at him as he gawks at his, what is that, a spider?- the man sitting at a table in the bar right next to him, letting him nuzzle his shoulder (embarrassing, it makes Roman blush he was so mushy)- a kiss to his forehead to calm him, wiping away drunken tears ever so gently. His hands felt baby-soft, despite the obvious muscular frame he sported.

Who is he…?

“I’ll sing it just for you: you know, I really don’t like public speaking…” in his mind, this man’s voice follows: it’s soft, muted a touch. Focus now, Roman, you’ve almost got it-

“You’re not going to remember me, so I don’t think it’ll matter…” Of course it matters! I’m not a blackout drunk! Roman wants to scream.

“I really really like you, Roman,” his voice, saying such kind words, is like what he’d imagine an angel would sound like. Or some sweet interaction that only comes between A-List celebrities in a scripted movie.

“I’ve known you for a while…” Okay, finally, getting somewhere. He knows him? Does he do tech at the theatre or something? It’s a possibility.

“You’re destroying me, and you don’t even notice…” Well, that’s harsh. Kind makes him feel guilty: this gorgeous meal of a man was lusting over him, and he didn’t even notice? What kind of idiot-

“Janus said that I’d be good for you. Grounding. A good boyfriend…” So he knows the snakey doctor. That can either be very good or very bad: is this fellow a sleazeball? No, Roman assures himself blushing heavily, He’s too sweet to do that. Too kind and loving. Did you see him sing that song? Just for you too- and he looked so nervous! Precious!!

“I don’t know what he sees in me, but clearly you don’t see that…” Roman wants to pull his hair out. Did Roman say or do something wrong? Did he ruin his chances with this Adonis, because if he did, he’ll be furious.

“You like grand gestures, romance, and flirting… I can’t do any of that,” I don’t care! I don’t care about any of that! I just want someone to hold my hand and not treat me like shit! Just a sweet cute guy!

“I’m not nervous anymore, because you’re never going to remember this whole thing,” Ah, sorry to break it to you, but hey, I’m remembering! And I’m going to track you down!

“You’ll never know how much I love you anyway, so it’s just for me…” he sounds melancholy, so very sad, and Roman wants to hold him. Hold him and kiss the top of his head and make him feel better. This person, he doesn’t deserve to be ignored. Why was Roman ever-

“Just for poor heartsick Virgil,” Roman’s mouth runs dry. Virgil? Virgil. He- the man he went with- Virgil. Virgil was singing to him, with that angelic voice, Virgil drove him to his house because he didn’t want to leave him alone and every other little wonderful thing, the forehead kisses and the smiles and the hands- oh my stars, I am an imbecile.

How didn’t he notice? How Virgil would bite back at him whenever he flirted with him teasingly, how Virgil wilted whenever Roman talked about his relationships, how careful and thoughtful he was with every move, hell, he even agreed to go out to the bar with him to find some other guy because he was worried for Roman’s safety.

How was I so blind that I missed the perfect man right in front of my eyes?

And this… this must be Virgil’s house. It’s… very Virgil. Is that a Nightmare Before Christmas poster? Yes, it is- how wonderful. How him.

How didn’t Roman notice? It’s that classic blunder, unseeing of the person right in front of him. How did he not see how romantic Virgil is? Little gestures, smart moves, kindness. Thoughtful. He had said that he wasn’t a romantic, but by Jove- he’s sweet. His mind can’t stop repeating Virgil’s soft singing and his gentleness. God, it’s so beautiful it’s painful. He should tell him to go without makeup more often. And a shirt. Yes, without a shirt sounds good. Undercover buff, much?

His mind swirls with the knowledge of Virgil.

Oh shit- how is he going to face Virgil now? He’s in his house, he’s most likely in the living room: should he just pretend like he doesn’t remember?

Roman’s a good actor, he could pull it off: but Virgil would still be wanting and lonesome. And Roman would know, and that hurts. He won’t do that to him, not anymore.

He should just come out, say that he remembers and... ask him out on a date. A proper one. They both have the day off today, it could be now!

They’d do Virgil things, things that make the emo happy, maybe a zoo or watch movies or coffee shops or whatever. And... Roman will hold his hand, hold him, and hold him and hold him. Yes, yes, this is good.

Roman wishes he had more time to plan. Time to get flowers, or chocolates or anything, really. Wait, you don’t even know if he’ll say yes! Maybe he’s so embarrassed by the whole interaction that-

Wait.

Is that pancakes?

Roman sniffs at the air: yes, it is. Blueberry ones, at that. And coffee. His stomach rumbles, and hunger is enough to spur him out of bed. His legs are wobbly, and his head is swimming, but he makes it out of the room eventually.

“Oh hey, Princey, finally decide to wake from your endless slumber, huh?” Virgil teases. His makeup has returned, as usual. He’s wearing another hoodie, a black one, and it’s hanging off his shoulders as he flips pancakes. Roman’s mouth runs dry. “Also, umm, sorry about not taking you to your apartment. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh... it’s fine,” Roman sounds odd, even to himself, and Virgil gives him a skeptical look. “Heh, anyone who makes me good morning pancakes is alright in my book!”

Virgil snorts, and pushes a plate over the kitchen bar for Roman to sit and eat.

“How’s your head? What do you- you know, never mind,” Virgil ducks his head into the fridge to receive some maple syrup, “You like it warmed?”

“Uh... if it isn’t an issue,” Virgil casts another weird look to Roman: is he being too nice? Roman can’t help it, how could he be rude? He puts his syrup in the microwave, with the long pale fingers.

“I uh- Virgil,” Roman starts, more nervous than anything, “Oh fuck, this is hard but- I uh-”

“You’re making me worried, Princey, spit it out or shut up and eat my food,” Virgil glares. Roman gulps. It’s like a bandaid, rip it off, come on, just spit it out-

“I REMEMBER! I remember everything, I always do after I’m drunk, it’s why I get a buddy, because I always remember in the morning and I hate what I’m like when I’m intoxicated, because I always remember, I think I’ve said that a few times- uh, Virgil, are you okay?” Roman finally looks up at Virgil- or rather down, as the man has crumpled to the floor in a heap. Has he fainted? Roman gets up and squats next to him.

“Virgil?” he whispers into his ear, poking at him. Virgil jolts up, narrowly missing a collision with Roman’s head as he sits up straight. He groans, and puts his head in his hands to try and hide his full-faced blush.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot, oh my god, I’ve made a total fool of myself- oh god, please just leave me alone to die, Roman, just go,” he yells. Roman chuckles, and peels Virgil’s hands from his face. He seems about to cry, moisture glistening at his eyes. Roman’s heart can’t take it: he thinks he looks foolish? No, never.

Roman kisses the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not an idiot, you’re most certainly not a fool. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you before at the office. I’m the only idiot between the two of us, because I didn’t see how wonderful you were until you had to be blatant about it. I’m so very sorry, and in your debt. I feel silly to even try and ask, but would you… perchance, want a real date? One where I’m not flirting with other people- only with you, you Incredible Sulk,” Roman consoles Virgil pulling him into an embrace.

“Really?” Virgil asks.

“Honestly,”

“Then yeah, yeah, that sounds okay. I uh… I don’t do a whole lot so-” Roman cuts Virgil off by pressing his finger to his lips. Virgil raises his eyebrows.

“How’s right this second sound?”

“Yeah- uhm, that works for me-”

“Fantastic! And I believe your pancakes are burning,” Roman notes, laughing as Virgil shoots up cursing colourfully as he discards a very black pancake. Even as the man squawks and yells and forces Roman back into his seat, he can’t help but feel fulfilled. After the pancake fiasco is remedied, Virgil breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at Roman.

“Sorry about that, Princey,”

“Hey, it’s no problem for me! Kind of entertaining, actually,” Roman snickers, earning him a slap upside the head. And then, just to push Virgil’s buttons, he snakes his hand through his dark locks and kisses him deeply over the counter. It’s a knee-shaking kiss, a heart-stopper, a signature Roman smooch. One he should’ve given Virgil last night, but was too drunk to make happen. It seems like Virgil likes it too, if the noises are any indication. Virgil is the first to pull back for air, and presses his chest, gasping.

“Oh my goodness, was that too much? Are you okay, Virgil?” Roman frets. Virgil, he recalls, has some sort of horrible cocktail of medical issues. Most he’s grown out of, but the effects still linger.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s cool. Hah, my heart’s still beating. It’s stopped once before, and I have a defibrillator in my room but- I’m okay. I guess that just means I’m fragile, right? Gotta be careful with my heart, both ways, alright?” A still beating heart. How romantic, how delightful.

“Now you must stay with me, so I can restart your heart whenever it’s required!” Roman announces. Virgil rolls his eyes and scoffs, despite his small smile, then returns to finishing off the end of his pancake batter. Roman pokes his bicep, his deceptively strong bicep, to pester him into an answer. Virgil catches it, squeezes.

“Hey! My heart’s still beating, you’re going to have to try harder,” he teases. It has to be the most lovely seductive challenge he’s ever been issued. And you said you weren’t a romantic.

His heart still beats, and it beats just as hard for Roman as the other way around.

How positively lovely.

~~~~

And from that day on, the entire pediatric office would all go out once a month to a particular bar’s karaoke night, and Roman and Virgil would sing many songs but always one. They always sang one at the end, and it was so beautiful that people cry every time. It’s longing and love and acceptance.

They like to hold hands while they do it, perhaps to show off their relationship… or maybe just the matching rings that adorn their fingers.

~~~~~

The End! Thanks for reading!

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Walking Dead Season 11: Who Lives and Who Dies

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This Walking Dead article contains major spoilers.

Many of us thought this day would never come, but as all of The Walking Dead‘s characters know very well, everything that has a beginning has an end. Season 11 of AMC’s flagship zombie drama will be the show’s final run of episodes, but fortunately it’s an expanded season. Fans will get 24 more episodes, broken up into three parts, before the show — and a few of its characters — meets its end.

And it wouldn’t be a season of The Walking Dead without a few big deaths along the way. As we have in past seasons, we’ve made some predictions regarding who will bite the bullet in season 11. For the final time, here are the characters we think are on the chopping block and the ones we believe will live on to remember them after the credits roll on the series finale.

Keep track of all The Walking Dead season 11 deaths below:

DEAD

Roy (C. Thomas Howell)

Prediction: Dies

Result: Dead

Roy took an arrow to the face during a Reaper ambush.

Gage (Jackson Pace)

Prediction: Dies

Result: Dead

Gage stabbed himself in the chest twice, attempting to kill himself before being devoured by walkers in a train car. Zombie Gage was then put down with a shot to the head by Gabriel.

ALIVE

Pope (Ritchie Coster)

Prediction: Dies

I’ve never seen a guy more likely to die in the first half of a Walking Dead season than Pope, the leader of the show’s newest villains, the Reapers, who themselves strike me as filler villains for Maggie and Daryl while the real story at the Commonwealth develops. I assume the Reapers will be out of the picture by the time Alexandria needs to turn its attention to the much larger settlement in the second part of season 11.

Pamela Milton (Laila Robins)

Prediction: Dies

The Governor of the Commonwealth is poised to be the final season’s big bad. A bureaucrat hellbent on preserving the way things were before the zombie outbreak, Milton even established a caste system within her settlement to propagate class inequality. She represents everything that was wrong with the world before the fall of society and the complete anti-thesis of how the Alexandrians do things.

If you’ve read the comics, you know how Pamela’s story ends in Robert Kirkman and Charlie Adlard’s story, but the TV series is known for taking sharp left turns when you least expect it. One thing we know for sure is that the Alexandrians will have to reckon with Pamela’s rule before the series finale.

Lance Hornsby (Josh Hamilton)

Prediction: Dies

A Commonwealth acolyte and bookkeeper of the community, Lance is one of Milton’s chief personnel, helping her run the settlement’s government. He’s also seems like cannon fodder to me as things heat up between the Commonwealth and Alexandria, an early death that could spark a conflict between the two factions.

Mercer (Michael James Shaw)

Prediction: Lives

Mercer is loyal to the Commonwealth but there are more sides to him than his distinct orange military armor lets on. He’s one of the most interesting characters of the comic’s final storyline, and it would be a shame to lose him before we can see his story through.

Elijah (Okea Eme-Akwari)

Prediction: Lives

Elijah made his debut in one of the most WTF moments of season 10 when he rescued Aaron and Alden from the Whisperers. For weeks after his reveal, people wondered who the man in the steal mask could be. When he returned in the final six episodes of season 10, the show just kind of moved on without fleshing him out, which is unfortunate since he looks so cool! I’m going to assume that the series is saving a big Elijah-focused episode for later in the season and that he’s too awesome to kill off. You don’t just introduce a blade expert in a steel mask for no reason!

Virgil (Kevin Carroll)

Prediction: Dies

Virgil has a lot to atone for after kidnapping and drugging Michonne in season 10. At the end of the season, we learn that he’s found a disoriented Connie in the woods. His redemption arc will likely include helping Connie survive on the walker-infested road back to Alexandria. Will that eventually involve a final sacrifice to save her?

Connie (Lauren Ridloff)

Prediction: Lives

Connie’s been through a hell of a lot in the past season. After surviving an explosion, a cave-in, and an entire walker horde, Connie’s made it out of Whisperer territory but is still a ways from home. Expect part of season 11’s story to be about Connie’s odyssey and ultimate reunion with her sister and Daryl.

Lydia (Cassady McClincy)

Prediction: Lives

Lydia was at the center of Alexandria’s conflict with the Whisperers for a season and a half. With Alpha and Beta defeated, and their faction all but obliterated, I have to wonder what Lydia has left to do on the show. That said, the writers have continued to find interesting ways to explore this character, and someone has to live on to lead the next generation of Alexandrians. I think Lydia is in it for the long haul.

Magna (Nadia Hilker)

Prediction: Dies

Magna was sidelined pretty quickly after her introduction. While a reunion with Yumiko seems like the logical direction for her story, The Walking Dead universe is a cruel one. She could be headed toward tragedy.

Yumiko (Eleanor Matsuura)

Prediction: Lives

In season 11, Yumiko is inheriting a major storyline from the comics that likely means she’ll survive the final 24 episodes of the series. Of course, the TV show could always alter that storyline to bring a tragic end to Yumiko’s story.

Luke (Dan Fogler)

Prediction: Dies

It’s pretty wild that Luke has survived as long as he has. A man of the arts hardly has a place in the cruel world of this show, but he has clumsily persevered thus far. But if the writers are planning an especially bloody final season, I’d put Luke on the short list.

Kelly (Angel Theory)

Prediction: Lives

Kelly has been one of the best late additions to the show. It would suck for her to finally reunite with her sister only to meet an unexpected end.

Alden (Callan McAuliffe)

Prediction: Dies

Another candidate for the chopping block. I’m surprised he’s even made it this long.

King Ezekiel (Khary Payton)

Prediction: Lives

Yes, Ezekiel has thyroid cancer, and were he in Alexandria, that would mean his inevitable death. But the Commonwealth is a different ballgame, an advanced settlement in the comics that will likely have the doctors and surgical resources needed to save him. That is, if Ezekiel isn’t caught up in Milton’s caste system.

Jerry (Cooper Andrews)

Prediction: Dies

I love Jerry and don’t want to see the tank with a heart of gold go. But if the season needs an early death that pulls at the heart strings, Jerry is a prime candidate for a midseason casualty.

Father Gabriel Stokes (Seth Gilliam)

Prediction: Lives

Gabriel has evolved so much since his debut in season 5, becoming one of Alexandria’s key leaders. He’s come so far and even survived longer than his comic book counterpart. I’d hate to see him go so close to the end. So I’m just going to say he lives.

Aaron (Ross Marquand)

Prediction: Lives

Aaron seemed destined to die seasons ago, too kind and trusting to survive this long. But here he is, still fighting and surviving. He’s lost the man he loves, his arm, and many friends — and it’s all hardened him into a war machine. It’d be a shame for him to die now.

Rosita Espinosa (Christian Serratos)

Prediction: Lives

In the comics, Rosita’s head ended up on a pike during the Whisperer war, but her TV counterpart has persevered. It’s difficult to predict where her story goes at this point, but since she survived her comic book death, I assume the show’s writers have something in mind for her in season 11.

Eugene Porter (Josh McDermitt)

Prediction: Lives

Eugene has become an unlikely protagonist going into season 11. From a mulleted coward hiding behind his intelligence so that others protect him to the Alexandrian leading his people to the Commonwealth, Eugene is central to the plot of the final season, and I think that means he’s safe. Plus, Eugene is hilarious, and The Walking Dead can always use a little comedic relief.

Judith Grimes (Cailey Fleming)

Prediction: Lives

Result: Lived

NO.

Rick Grimes Jr. (Antony Azor)

Prediction: Lives

Nah.

Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan)

Prediction: Lives

I think The Walking Dead is going to end with one last big death, one last sacrifice before the credits roll on the massive zombie drama. Like Rick in the comics, one of the major characters of the TV series will likely become the martyr who inspires change inside the Commonwealth’s walls. Negan would probably be on the short list for this big moment from the comics, a villain finally choosing to do the right thing for a cause bigger than himself, a fitting conclusion to his seasons-long redemption arc. But Jeffrey Dean Morgan recently teased that he was already having discussions with AMC about a potential Negan spinoff after The Walking Dead has concluded, which means the former Savior leader is safe…unless the Negan show is a prequel.

Carol Peletier (Melissa McBride)

Prediction: Lives

This one’s an easy one: Melissa McBride is getting her own spinoff that will follow her character after The Walking Dead series finale. That means she’s safe.

Daryl Dixon (Norman Reedus)

Prediction: Lives

Norman Reedus is joining McBride for that spinoff, so he’s safe, too. The actor even told us what the Daryl and Carol show will be about.

Maggie Rhee (Lauren Cohan)

Prediction: Dies

That leaves The Walking Dead with one logical choice to pick up Rick’s final storyline from the comic. It’s Maggie. It also makes a bit of sense from a logistical standpoint. Lauren Cohan has already left The Walking Dead universe once before to pursue other small and big screen projects. She’s back for the final 24 episodes of the series as a welcome legacy character but that doesn’t mean Cohan wants to stick around for longer than that. I assume Cohan’s returned to bring closure to her character, not to prepare for a spinoff.

Let us know your predictions for The Walking Dead season 11 in the comments!

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mummybear · 5 years ago

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Strangers In The Night - Part 6 - Too Soon

Words: 3181

Warnings: Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Mentions Of Past.... Think that’s it!

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Veronica (OC), Sebastian (OC)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Veronica (OC)

A/N: I know it has been a long time since the series update but this will be the second to last chapter! So enjoy! Working on the final part now :)

Series Masterlist

Sam shifts awkwardly in his chair, very aware that he has probably just fucked up by letting Veronica walk out of that door. He wants to go after her but he knows that he can’t leave Seb and Dean on their own when they’re unconscious. Something isn’t sitting right with him, with the way that she’d left, not even able to really look at Dean, that just wasn’t her. She was incredibly hurt and blaming herself for everything that was happening to her brother and his own brother. So he does the one and only thing that he can think of, calling the only man still alive that he trusts enough to protect his brother the same way he would.

Sam knows that Dean would never be able to live with himself if Veronica sacrificed her life for his. She was the only woman that wasn’t their mother that Dean had truly loved his entire life, no matter how much the pair of idiots danced around it, Sam knew better back then and he certainly knows better now. Pulling out his phone he dials Bobby’s number, hoping he’s not in the middle of a job, or worse that he’s completely out of reach.

The phone rings twice before someone picks up and sighs, clearly already irritated.

“What’ve you pair of idjits got yourselves into now?”

Sam runs a hand through his hair looking over at his brother and has to swallow the lump in his throat before he can even attempt to speak.

“It’s Dean, Bobby. He’s really not doing so well, he was stabbed during a hunt and he’s in really bad shape. I need you to come here, I really need some help.” Sam tries to hide the shake in his voice but fails miserably.

“Hey kid, It’s gonna be fine, try not to think about the worst case. He’s tougher than he looks, I’ll be there in….” There’s a pause and Sam can hear swearing and banging around. “....Give me half an hour, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks Bobby, V’s in trouble and I don’t want to leave him on his own, just in case. But I need to go and find her,” Sam pushes back the thought of losing his brother as soon as it enters his mind and clears his throat. “V’s brother is here too,”

“I’m on my way, just hold tight and don’t do anything stupid, if you can manage that.” Bobby sighs but before Sam can speak up again, he hears Bobby calling his name. “I just remembered somethin’, Dean called me on the way back from mine the other day when Veronica was taken last time. Think you were sleepin’, said that he wanted me to track Veronica’s phone. So, it might be worth lookin’ into that.”

Unfortunately Sam can’t let himself feel the relief that he should be able to. Because he’s almost certain that he already knows where she’s going at this point anyway and it won’t end well for any of them.

With a final thank you and a quick goodbye to Bobby, Sam looks back down at his phone, worrying his lip between his teeth as his thumb hovers over the tracking app Bobby had sent him for Veronica’s phone. Knowing that he needs to confirm his suspicions, Sam finally caves and presses the screen and loads the app.

Sighing deeply Sam looks over at his brother, as his suspicions are confirmed with a ping sounding from the app. With the direction that she’s heading in Veronica is far too close to a crossroads for Sam’s liking. Running a hand through his hair once more, he stands from his chair, pacing the floor between the two beds in the room, he’s way too nervous to sit still and all he can do now is wait for Bobby to turn up.

Twenty Minutes Later

Sam gets what must be his tenth coffee in as many hours, still impatiently waiting until he can leave, Veronica is now just ten miles out from the biggest crossroads that Sam is aware of, according to the tracking app on her phone. She clearly doesn’t understand demons the way that he and Dean have learned to. Sam knows that as soon as any demon finds out his brother is injured and almost defenceless, they won’t think twice about tricking her and they’d be here seconds later killing him. The Winchesters were wanted dead and that’s the end of it, no demon would ever fall for that deal again.

When Sam looks up from his coffee he sees Bobby finally walking into the room, “well hell.” Bobby sighs, pulling up a seat at the side of Dean’s bed, after he claps Sam on the shoulder.

“So, how bad is it? What’re we lookin’ at?” Bobby asks, looking like he might be a little nervous as he looks between an unconscious Dean and back at Sam.

Sam gives Bobby a brief run down of Dean’s condition, “the good news is the doctors are hopeful that he should continue to improve, since they got the results from the scan back and they aren’t as bad as the doc first thought. But Veronica left before they told me.” Sam reveals worriedly, standing from the chair to pull on his coat.

“You think she’s gonna make the deal?” Bobby asks, watching Sam carefully.

But before he can answer the Doctor interrupts, “any changes?” Sam asks immediately, stepping in front of the doctor.

The doctor offers Sam a gentle smile, patting him on the arm. “Your brother has improved significantly over the last hour, so we’re very hopeful. He may even wake up soon.”

Sam turns to Bobby with a wide smile, finally allowing himself to take that breath he felt like he’d been holding since they’d arrived.

“Thank you very much doctor, our dad is gonna stay with Dean, I just have to head out for a little bit. Just got a work thing to deal with,” Sam explains vaguely.

The doctor turns to Bobby with a genuine smile and shakes his hand.

“I’ll be back as soon as I have more information.” The doctor assures them both before leaving.

A groan from behind him makes Sam whip around, so many emotions washing over him all at once. He’s relieved to see his brother starting to come around, but he’s terrified of his reaction when he notices that she’s not there and that he’s the one that let V leave. Let alone what his reaction will be when he finds out where she’s gone and what she’s gonna do.

“Sammy. Bobby? Where’s V?” Dean grunts as he tries to sit up, Bobby gently pushes him back into the bed.

“Boy, sit your ass down before you hurt yourself anymore.” Bobby huffs out, pulling Dean’s covers back up and pushing him back again when he tries to get up for the third time.

“Don’t make me strap you down!” Bobby warns.

Sam looks at his brother and swallows hard, “It’s so good to see you awake Dean, we were so worried,” Sam smiles the best that he can but he can tell by the look on his brother’s face that he knows that Sam is hiding something.

“Spit it out Sammy. What is it?” Dean grunts, holding a hand against his stomach as he shifts up the bed slightly.

“Nothing Dean, just gonna go get some coffee, so uh yeah, be right back.” Sam tries to assure his brother, unfortunately before he can even turn away it’s immediately clear to everyone that Dean knows something is wrong and he isn’t convinced by what Sam is telling him.

“No you don’t, that’s not gonna work on me. Why the rush?” Dean demands gruffly, “you’re lying to me, Sammy. Spill it.” Dean warns him, a pained expression covering his face when he moves again and Sam sighs.

“Fine. It’s Veronica. She’s gone to do something stupid, so I need to go and stop her.” Sam relents finally.

“You’re fucking kidding me right? You let her leave? Sammy!” Dean exclaims, sounding exhausted and exasperated.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean grunts finally dropping his legs over the side of the bed. Bobby rushes to his side trying to get him back into bed.

“Let me go! She’s gone to make a deal right?” Dean demands, causing Sam to wince a little at the look on his face and the sound of his voice.

“Dean, please I’m sorry. I’ll stop it!” Sam promises, shaking his head at Bobby. Both men know it’s no good to try and get him back in that bed right now.

Dean angrily rolls his eyes at his brother and almost falls to his knees when he finally stands from the bed but luckily Bobby catches him.

After changing a little awkwardly, Dean walks over to Sebastian’s bed. Frowning when he sees something white poking out from his hand. Dean carefully opens his hand and a note falls from it and onto the floor. Sam picks it up and hands it to his brother. Rushing to open it, Dean swallows hard when his eyes fall on her writing, he’d know it anywhere.

Dean’s eyes flick over the words and he feels a pit hit his stomach growing considerably deeper, when her words confirm his worst fears. He wipes his eyes before the tears can fall, of course she’d blamed herself, just like he would but she didn’t deserve this weight on her chest. She’d done nothing wrong, she’d only tried to help people.

Veronica feels every bump of the road as it moves beneath the wheels of the car she’d stolen back at the hospital. The tears haven’t stopped streaming down her red cheeks since she’d left their sides and all she can do is picture the two men she loves the most. Both unconscious and fighting for their lives, all because of her, both of them, both of those incredible men’s lives were threatened because of her. This was the only thing that she could do to help, even if it’s a little selfish, she needs them back and the world needs Dean Winchester alive. She hopes that once Dean and Sebastian wake up that they can forgive her for this.

She’s not stupid, Veronica knows that the demon wont give her long to live, if she gets any time at all. The only thing she really wants is to see him wake up, for those gorgeous green eyes to be the last thing that she sees.

The road is beginning to blur again as the tears become too thick. She wipes them away with her sleeve and slows down, she doesn’t want to die before she gets there. Her heart feels like it’s breaking and it takes her everything to just keep her foot pressed against the gas. Her phone has been ringing for the last half an hour, she wants to answer it, to look at it but she can’t bring herself to see the bad news. Whatever it is, it can wait because she can’t allow herself to think about what it might be, not right now, she’s just about holding herself together as it is.

There isn’t much further to go now and all she can think about is Dean, his huge smile that day at school when they’d first met. Their nights down at the lake, the way they would just sit for hours and talk, there had always been more there between them but they’d ignored it. Now it’s all she can think about, the life that they might have had. It wouldn’t have been perfect but they would’ve had each other at least.

Veronica hopes he finds someone who will treat him the way that he deserves, she just wants him to be happy. The ringing of her phone once again makes her sigh, glancing down at it for what feels like the hundredth time she sees Dean’s name flashing on the screen. But it couldn’t be him, right? Sam had to be using his phone. Yeah, that was it. Yet there’s something that tells her she should answer it.

Swallowing hard she finally gives in, picking up the phone she presses answer and holds the phone to her ear.

“I’m fine Sam, please just stop calling. I’m just getting some air.” She says into the phone before anyone on the other line can speak. But she’s met with static noise.

Clearly the hospital signal wasn’t great. Sighing, she drops the phone into the passenger's seat.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouts, throwing his phone at his brother who catches it with ease. “Signal crapped out, she didn’t hear me.”

“Dean, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get there in time.” Sam tells him, trying to comfort his brother but knowing that his tone is less than convincing.

Angry tears fill Dean’s eyes but he blinks them away, looking back at Bobby and Seb in the backseat.

“How is he?” Dean asks in an effort to distract himself.

Bobby checks him over again quickly for what feels like the hundredth time at Dean’s request.

“Yeah. Same as last time, he’s fine son. Stop worryin’” Bobby assures the eldest Winchester, acknowledging Dean’s nod with one of his own, watching his knuckles go white with the grip that he has on the steering wheel.

Dean leans over with a grunt, popping a few of the pain meds he’d swiped from the hospital and swallowing them dry. He knows he’s basically gonna be useless in this upcoming fight but he doesn’t let that stop him, his foot pressed flat to the floor as the Impala barrels down the final stretch of road, which he knows leads to the crossroads.

He keeps thinking about what he’s gonna say to her but he doesn’t know, he just wants her where she belongs again, back in his arms and this time he’s never letting her go. Why couldn’t he have woken up sooner, then she never would’ve left, this was all his fault, how could she think this is what she needs to do. It’s all very well for everyone to keep telling him to stop worrying, for the longest time he felt like that was all he did. He remembers a few days ago where he had shared V’s bed, when he’d woken up that morning with her in his arms and realised he’d never felt more at home in his life.

The impala comes to a screeching stop, just in time not to bump into the back of a car abandoned on the road. Dean doesn’t even think before he all but falls out of the car, quickly followed by Sam and Bobby.

“Someone needs to stay with Seb,” Dean states firmly, loading his gun and pushing it into his jeans before grabbing the demon blade and some holy water.

“That should probably be you,” Bobby sighs as soon as the words leave his lips at the look on Dean’s face and holds up his hands.

“I know, I know. I’m stayin’ with the kid. I know you better than that, ya stubborn ass.” Bobby huffs climbing into the passengers' side in case they need a quick get away.

“Just be careful.” The older man warns him.

Dean nods at Bobby, silent appreciation passing between them, turning his attention to the tracks visibly leading away from the abandoned car with Sam following closely behind him.

They keep their movements slow and careful, not wanting to startle the demon into hurting Veronica. It doesn’t take them long to spot either though, engaged in a fight which has even the Winchesters wincing. They watch in horror as Veronica is thrown halfway across the road.

In a practised move Dean tosses Sam the demon knife and he goes for the demon, while Dean runs straight for Veronica.

Unable to stop the wince as he breaks into a run, Dean falls skidding to his knees at her side. He gasps in relief when her eyes flutter open, watching the mix of emotions that rush through her beautiful eyes in a split second. She’s covered in bruises and blood, cuts and scrapes but he only sees the girl from his childhood and the woman he’s been in love with for almost his entire life.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” he asks gently, gritting his teeth as he pulls her into his lap the best that he can.

Veronica shifts in his arms, a shaking hand reaches up to his face and cups his cheek, like she’s checking to see if he’s actually there, if he’s real. Dean lets his eyes flutter closed briefly.

“Dean?” She gasps through a choked sob, “you’re okay. But, how are you okay? I don’t understand.” She rambles off in confusion, tears streaking down her face.

Dean smiles down at her as his eyes open once more, giving her hand a gentle squeeze when she searches his hand out.

“We can talk later sweetheart, can you walk? We need to go.”

“Y-Yeah, I think so.” She half mumbles, letting Dean help her to stand. Both of them glanced over just in time to see Sam plunge the knife into the demon's stomach.

“Wait. Seb? Where’s my brother?” She asks urgently, pulling away in an effort to sprint towards the car.

Luckily Dean catches her hand before she gets too far.

“Hey! Veronica, come on. Did you really think I wouldn’t bring him?” Dean asks, sounding a little hurt.

Veronica sighs with relief when the two of them round the corner and she spots her brother in the back of the impala. “Sorry,” she smiles awkwardly at Dean, “I just panicked. Who’s that?.” Veronica frowns at the older man in the car, she swears that she recognises.

Dean chuckles lightly, “yeah, we’ve got a lot to talk about sweetheart. I’ll give you the rundown on the way back to the bunker.”

“Okay Dean, I’d like that. Thank you,” she tells him gently. A thought that crosses her mind makes her smile widely.

“You can finally show me what it looks like when Dean Winchester has a bedroom. You always said that you had an idea of what you wanted when you finally had a permanent home.” She tells him, smiling at the memory of those same green eyes.

“You still remember that?” He asks surprised as the pair come to a stop right beside the impala. Veronica gives Sam a quick smile when he walks past them and squeezes her shoulder, watching him climbing into the impala. Before she turns her attention back to Dean.

“Of course I do, we talked about it alot. I haven’t stopped thinking about a lot of things, since I almost lost you, again.”

“Yeah well, I hope you enjoyed the break. Because that isn’t happening again.” Dean winks, making her laugh.

But the laughter is cut short when Bobby starts honking the horn repeatedly. The door swings open and Bobby hollers out the door, “get your asses movin’! We’ve got company!”

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @sunshineandwings86 @akshi8278 @peaches009 @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamencodiva @hobby27 @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @adoptdontshoppets

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falseh0od · 5 years ago

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So I had the idea... what if the boys were Pokemon trainers?? I know the idea of a Pokémon/Sanders Sides crossover has been done by many (I’m particularly partial to the one by @sugarglider9603- I name my eeveelutions after the boys respectively 😅)

But! I decided to take the Pokémon they chose as the ones they’d be in the Q&A video and give them 5 more Pokémon for a full team! Only three of the boys have a specific typing, but each one has a trait that sets their team apart!

I ALSO included Janus, Remus, Emile, and Remy in this. Janus and Remus’s partners are straightforward as Arbok and Alolan Raticate respectively, but I chose a possible oddball for Emile in Ditto. I’ll elaborate more! Remy’s partner is Snorlax though, which I think is also a perfect match.

I’ll also be explaining the backgrounds of each of the boys and how they caught each of their Pokémon.

Anyway, here we go!

Logan Berry

(TW for mentions of abuse)

Logan was born in Hoenn, way back before any of the events of the games happened. Steven Stone is still champion of the region and is very, very well known. However, Logan’s parents were abusive and very strict, and absolutely hated Pokemon. They weren’t very secretive of their abuse, though, and one day it got bad enough that the neighbors came to investigate and called the police. This was when Logan was officially taken from their custody and sent to live with his Grandma in the Galar region... aka, Professor Magnolia. In this AU, Logan takes the place of Sonia. Which means he becomes a Pokémon Professor, which shouldn’t surprise anybody lmao. He does also end up being Leon’s rival in the gym challenge too! He also decides to specialize in Psychic-Type Pokémon.

Alakazam

Logan found his Alakazam when it was just a baby, a young Abra. This Abra was his first Pokemon, and one of the only two Pokémon he caught in Hoenn. In fact, this Abra is what set off the argument with his parents that led to them being arrested in the first place. His parents forbid him from having a Pokémon, despite the fact that Logan loved Pokémon with all his heart and it was his dream to be a trainer. This resulted in them becoming furious when he came home with his Abra. However, Abra actively protected Logan from the blows of his parents (using its psychic powers ofc) and is the main reason why Logan wasn’t in worse shape after that. Because of this, Alakazam isn’t just Logan’s partner, but is also his emotional support Pokemon, and Logan hates to be away from him for too long.

Metagross

This is the second Pokémon Logan brought with him to Galar from Hoenn, and it just so happens that this Pokémon was a gift to him. Steven Stone himself heard that there was a young boy who had been abused by his parents, and took it upon himself to come visit Logan before he was sent to Galar. The two struck up an immediate friendship, and Steven decided to gift him with the one thing the boy loved more than anything- a Pokemon. A Beldum, to be exact. He told Logan to take good care of the young Pokemon and Logan promised he would- and he would keep that promise.

Espeon

Espeon was the first pokemon Logan caught in Galar. It was just an Eevee at the time! Professor Magnolia had taken him with her when she went to visit Milo at one point, and when passing through Route Four Logan had found the Eevee. Professor Magnolia gifted him with a Pokeball to use to catch it, and Logan had his third Pokémon!

Xatu

It was in the wild area as an older teen that Logan found his fourth team member. He found a little Natu hopping around in the grass, minding its own business. Logan initially didn’t think much of it, and went on with his business... but the Natu thought MUCH of him, and ended up following Logan all around the Wild Area. Logan eventually caved in, catching the little bird and forming such a close bond with him that he added him to his team when he evolved into Xatu.

Galarian Rapidash

Logan found the Galarian Rapidash when he was in the middle of his Gym challenge with Leon, as he was on his way to Ballonlea. It was a Ponyta at the time, and it was actually injured. Logan quickly caught it and ran back to Wedgehurst to have Professor Magnolia take a look at her, almost missing his sixth gym. However, the Ponyta made a quick recovery and Logan added her to his team.

Reuniclus

Logan’s final team member was also found in its unevolved form, Solosis. He found Solosis in the wild area as well, in after he had beaten every gym and before he went on to Wyndon for the finals. There wasn’t much fate about the meeting- but Logan felt a connection from the moment he saw the Pokémon. He caught it, trained it, and it joined him in Wyndon, a Duosion, and Logan’s final team member.

Roman Prince

Roman (and Remus, his twin ofc) was born and raised in Alola. He had his mom, a kind and caring woman who loved her sons deeply. His dad had died when he was very little, so he didn’t remember much about him. His mom was also friends with Professor Kukui and Professor Burnet, and Roman was close friends with their adopted son... Remy. In fact, Professor Kukui was the one who gifted Roman his first Pokemon, and we’ll get into that story right now!

Wigglytuff

Wigglytuff (an Igglybuff at the time) was Roman’s first pokemon and has since been his loyal partner. He received the Pokémon as an egg, a gift from Professor Kukui when he, Remus, and Remy were all old enough to start training Pokémon (Remus originally thought Pokémon were stupid, however, and would change his mind and get his first Pokémon later). After he got the egg, Roman spent every waking hour working to hatch it, and three days after receiving it, it hatched, much to his delight, and Igglybuff was brought into the world. He and his now Wigglytuff have an incredibly close connection, and Roman almost never puts her in her Pokeball.

Gardevoir

Gardevoir was Roman’s second Pokemon, the first wild Pokémon he ever caught. It was just a Ralts, but Roman was super excited to find a rarer pokemon, and immediately struck up a lasting friendship with Ralts. It evolved quicker than any Ralts Professor Kukui had ever seen.

Alolan Ninetales

It was during a ski trip to Mount Lanakila that Roman stumbled upon a lost and scared Alolan Vulpix. Roman didn’t hesitate to bring it back to the group, and helped it calm down. It was plainly evident not long after that the Vulpix was destined to be Roman’s. He caught it, and went to the ends of the earth to find the ice stone that eventually she evolved with when she was ready.

Aegislash

(tw for killing mention and technically animal abuse?)

Professor Kukui was beyond shocked when a teenaged Roman barged through his door holding a Pokeball that held a Honedge, another incredibly rare Pokémon. Roman told the dashing story, how he rescued it from a hitman who was trying to catch it to make it kill for him against its will. Kukui still doesn’t know how true the story is... but between me and you, Roman didn’t exaggerate a word.

Altaria

Roman’s Swablu was another gift, from a traveling friend of Professor Kukui. After hearing the professor speak so highly of the three kids and their dedication to Pokemon (Remus had decided to be a trainer by this point) the stranger gifted all three with a Pokémon not normally found in Alola. All three of the boys added said pokemon to their teams. Roman fell in love with the Swablu and was elated when it evolved into the majestic Altaria.

Milotic

Roman was traded Milotic. There’s not a big, fluffy story to his 6th pokemon, really. It was his first trade ever and when the other person traded him a Feebas holding a prism scale, he was super excited to watch the Pokémon evolve into Milotic. And so he added Milotic to his team on the spot.

Patton Hart

Patton is from Kalos, and doesn’t have much to his backstory. His mom died when he was ten, and his Dad raised him. His dad was a doctor and also Patton’s hero, so Patton ended up also going on to go to med school to become a doctor as well. He would eventually decide to move to Galar for a change in scenery, but not until he was in his mid-twenties. However, Patton has a major quirk to his Pokémon team. Patton decided to become an expert in training Pokémon to their full extent while they were still in their basic forms, aka not fully evolved... but not just any kind of Pokémon. You’ll see what I mean!

Togepi

Some of you might already have noticed the specific kind of Pokémon Patton specializes in. Anyway, Togepi was hatched an egg Patton found in the wild. His dad wasn’t terribly thrilled with the idea of Patton raising a wild egg since they had no idea what it would be, but after persistent badgering from Patton eventually gave in and let him raise it. Let’s just say he was relieved when it hatched into just a baby Togepi!

The rest of Patton’s team were gifts from various people who had eggs they were looking to give away. There’s not a whole ton of background so I’ll just list off each of the Pokémon in order of when he got them!

Pichu

Munchlax

Magby

Azurill

Riolu

Yeah, if you haven’t noticed, Patton specializes in baby Pokémon! Each holds an everstone and an eviolite, and each was given specialized training with Patton to make them as strong as possible! He holds a close relationship with each one! Patton is incredibly proud of his team, and is even one of the strongest trainers in Kalos!

Virgil Storm

Virgil was born and raised in Galar, and he loves the region more than anything and never plans to move. He’s also a close friend (and *cough* boyfriend- I’ll go into that more at the end of the post) of Logan! Both his parents are alive and are super awesome. They almost become like a second family to Logan. Virgil also has a fascination with ghost Pokémon, and as such, decided early on to be a trainer specializing in Ghost type Pokémon.

Haunter

Virgil met his Haunter before he ever even met Logan. He was wandering in the woods, and was hopelessly lost. Scared and crying, he caught the attention of a young Gastly, who approached the boy and helped him find his way out of the woods. It was when they had finally made their way out that Virgil found an abandoned Pokeball on the ground, and decided to catch the Gastly, who had at that point basically adopted the small human and was more than happy to be his partner. While it eventually evolved into Haunter, Virgil has vowed that he will never give away his Haunter, pretty much making it so the Pokémon will never evolve into Gengar. Logan has offered to try and find a way to get Haunter to evolve without a trade, but Virgil denied. He prefers Haunter over Gengar anyway (though he won’t deny that Gengar is his favorite gigantimax form).

Chandelure

Virgil found Chandelure as a Litwick when he was on a walk in the same woods, this time with Logan by his side. He immediately felt drawn to the Pokémon, and while Logan was terrified that something horrible would happen, the Litwick felt the same connection, and decided to let Virgil catch it. Eventually evolving into Lampent, Virgil was elated when he found a Dusk Stone lying around in the Wild Area, and helped the Pokémon to evolve into Chandelure.

Trevenant

Virgil found his Trevenant as - you guessed it, a Phantump. It was in a forest, but this time, in the forest leading up to Ballonlea. He was on his way to watch Logan’s gym match with Opal! It took some coaxing to get the Phantump into a Pokeball, but the little Pokemon eventually decided to go with Virgil. Though Virgil was resigned to having the Pokémon be a Phantump forever, the incredible connection Phantump made with Virgil led to it surprising Virgil with an evolution out of nowhere one day. (I know- don’t fight me on this, I just have a major problem with trade evolutions and Pokemon needs to make it so there’s another way to evolve those Pokémon 😡).

Dragapult

To no one’s surprise, Virgil found his Dragapult as a Dreepy. It was actually in a Max Raid battle, one that he and Logan did together. Virgil was elated when they found one for Dreepy, because he had been dreaming of getting a Dreepy for years.

Mimikyu

Mimikyu was one of the weirder encounters Virgil had. It was in the wild area, and Virgil was wandering in the fog alone when he noticed movement. It took some time to track down the movement, but it was then that he found the Mimikyu, one of the smallest Mimikyus anyone would ever see. He fell in love and his connection with Mimikyu is incredibly strong, seconded only by his connection with Haunter.

Dusknoir

Dusknoir is the only pokemon any of the boys found in the wild as-is. Not a Duskull, not a Duskclops, a full-out Dusknoir. While the encounter got rocky because the Dusknoir was big and formidable, after Virgil won a battle against it, it let Virgil catch it. That is still one of Virgil’s proudest accomplishments.

Janus Sawyer

Janus is a wandering soul at heart, and never stays in one place for terribly long. He was raised in Kanto, but not being able to travel made him miserable. As soon as he turned 18 he left home, and has never settled down since. He also has a connection with Pokémon that resemble snakes (and no one should be surprised by this).

Arbok

Arbok was the first pokemon Janus ever caught, when it was just an Ekans. Janus found the Ekans in the wild, and though his mom was terrified, he immediately was drawn to it, and begged his mom to let him catch it. His mom finally relented and gave him a Pokeball to use. Janus loves his Arbok more than anything.

Dragonair

Dragonair was the only other Pokémon Janus found in Kanto before he left. He found it as a Dratini, and will never let it evolve into Dragonite as he prefers Dragonair and finds it ridiculous that Dragonite looks nothing like the snake-like Dragonair and Dratini.

Cofagrigus

Cofagrigus is the only non-snake-like Pokemon on Janus’s team. He found it in Unova, the first region he went to after he left Kanto. He wasn’t originally gonna have it on his team, but eventually realized that he had too close a relationship with the Pokémon to not keep it on his team. He loves Cofagrigus a lot.

(AN: I included cofagrigus because arms.)

Serperior

Serperior is another Pokemon Janus found in Unova. He found it as Snivy. He’s especially proud of the odd coloring on his Serperior, as it is a lighter green, and has blue accents. (Yes, it is shiny!)

Zoroark

Zoroark is the last Pokemon Janus caught in Unova. After hearing of the pokemon, he became obsessed with Zoroark and vowed to catch it before he left Unova. He did find it, but it took a few weeks before Zoroark would let him catch it. In those few weeks, Janus stood back to observe Zoroark. Finally, Janus saved Zoroark’s life when it was attacked by a Pokemon hunter, and it decided to allow Janus to catch it. Janus and Zoroark are very close.

Salamence

In the second region he ever travelled to, Hoenn, Janus found a Bagon- he wasn’t entirely down to catch it, but Bagon desperately wanted to be catched by him. Janus eventually relented and caught the Pokemon, and with some research realized he would love to have a Salamence on his team. The two eventually grew closer and closer, and by the time it evolved into Salamence, they had a bond close enough for mega evolution- so when Janus first heard about the concept, he put all of his effort into finding a key stone and a mega stone for Salamence, which he eventually would.

Remus Prince

Remus, Roman’s twin, originally thought that being a Pokémon trainer was a stupid idea, and vowed never to be a trainer nor to own a single Pokémon. This changed when he was a teen, and he now loves Pokémon and is one of the strongest trainers in Alola (ironically enough). He completed the entire island challenge, and Kukui ends up asking him to be in the Elite Four when he creates the Alola Region Pokemon League. He doesn’t have a specific type, though a good portion of his team is Poison type, so he primarily uses the Poison Z-Move.

Alolan Raticate

Alolan Raticate was the Pokemon that made Remus change his mind about being a trainer. He found the Pokémon, a small rattata, being attacked by a Gumshoos who was way stronger than the Rattata. Remus chased the Gumshoos off, and then Roman handed Remus a Pokeball as if to say “you know you want to”. Remus gave in and caught the rattata. Now, Raticate is his partner, and he is closer with Raticate than with any of his other Pokémon.

Garbodor

Once Remus had given in to being a Pokémon trainer, Kukui finally got to give him an egg for him to raise. It took some time because Remus wasn’t sure how to go about raising the egg, but eventually it hatched into Trubbish. Remus loves Garbodor a lot, and though there’s no real way for him to figure this out, Garbodor is also gigantimax.

Alolan Muk

Muk was a Pokémon that, once he decided to be a trainer, Remus had his heart set on catching. It took a few years, but he finally found a Grimer, and added it to his team. Muk and Garbodor are very close.

Alolan Exeggcutor

Remus has always loved the concept of Exeggcutor- it’s long neck, the egg shaped heads, everything! Yet once he saw how they looked everywhere but Alola, Remus realized just how special the Alolan variants were. He spent three months trying to catch an Alolan Exeggcutor once he decided he wanted to, and was eventually successful.

Swalot

You remember the story of how Roman got his Swablu? That also happens to be how Remus got Swalot. Swalot was merely a Gulpin when he was gifted it. Remus instantly fell in love with the Pokémon and loves that he’s one of the only trainers in Alola with one.

Weezing

It was during a short trip to Kanto that Remus found his Weezing. Professor Kukui was visiting Professor Oak, and had also booked a ticket for Burnet, who unfortunately got sick last minute. With Roman and Remy both busy, Kukui offered to let Remus tag along, and Remus was more than happy to come. It was a chance encounter with Koffing, but Remus instantly fell in love, and Weezing was added to his party as his 6th pokemon.

Remy Burnet-Kukui

Remy was orphaned at only a year old, so he has very little recollection of his parents. Kukui and Burnet were not exactly looking to adopt at the time, but after hearing of Remy’s story, decided they had nothing to lose. They didn’t keep it a secret from Remy that he was adopted, not wanting to lose his trust at a later date. Remy is still incredibly close with his adopted parents and loves them with his whole heart. He became obsessed with the idea of moves Pokemon can use while asleep, and once he became a trainer, decided to specialize in using sleep to his advantage. He only has five Pokémon on his team, but if you saw him battle, you would see that that’s all he needs. He made it most of the way through the island challenge, but was never able to defeat Hapu.

Snorlax

Snorlax was Remy’s first Pokémon, the Pokémon gifted to him by Kukui while it was just an egg. It hatched into Munchlax and Remy was ecstatic. His Munchlax and Burnet’s Munchlax were always close, and while Burnet’s Munchlax never evolved, Remy happily evolved his when they became close enough.

Komala

Komala was the second Pokémon Remy caught, the first one he caught in the wild. It was in the middle of a busy street, sleeping as usual and just barely avoiding getting trampled. Remy rescued it, and Komala let him catch it.

Slaking

Remy found Slaking in the wild, just a Slakoth. Remy had the absolute worst time wrangling the Pokémon when it evolved into Vigoroth, and he will tell you that the day it evolved into Slaking was the happiest day of his life.

Slowbro

Another wild encounter, Slowbro and Snorlax became very close very quickly, when Slowbro was just a Slowpoke. They can often be seen napping together, and occasionally Remy will join them.

Musharna

Musharna was gifted to Remy as a Munna when Kukui’s friend from a different region visited. Remy fell in love with Munna and Kukui helped him locate a moon stone to evolve it into Musharna.

Emile Picani

Emile is Patton’s cousin, and also his best friend! Also raised in Kalos, he moved to Galar when he turned 18, much to Patton’s chagrin. He was also one of the main reasons Patton himself decided to move to Galar. Emile is a therapist, and is also close with Logan and Virgil. He’s also Logan’s therapist! He prides himself in being a normal-type trainer.

Ditto

Ditto was the first Pokémon Emile found. It was a wild encounter, and it terrified Emile at first because it had shapeshifted into Gengar. Once he realized what it was though, Emile was fascinated, and decided to catch it. It became his partner and helps Emile in his therapy sessions too!

Stoutland

Emile found Stoutland when it was just a little Lillipup. It was hurt, and Emile rushed it to the Pokémon Center. After waiting anxiously to see if it was alright, Nurse Joy gave him a Pokeball to use to catch it once it was fully recovered. Stoutland is one of the gentlest Pokemon Emile has ever seen, and he cares for each of the other Pokémon on Emile’s team, almost like a Dad friend.

Blissey

Blissey was gifted to Emile as an egg. He vigorously cared for it, and was elated when it hatched into Happiny. He made sure to form a close friendship with the Pokémon, wanting nothing more than for it to evolve fully, which it eventually did.

Poryon 2

Emile’s Porygon was an odd gift, given to him by a stranger he had a Pokémon battle with who was intrigued by Emile’s strength and bond with his Pokémon. Emile never saw the man again, but he loves his Porygon and went to the ends of the earth to get it to evolve into Porygon 2.

Smeargle

Another wild encounter, Smeargle was the last Pokemon Emile caught one Kalos before he moved- in fact, he caught Smeargle on his 18th birthday! Smeargle is incredibly loyal to Emile, and doesn’t particularly like other trainers. He gets incredibly competitive during battles.

Dubwool

The day he moved to Galar, Emile immediately knew he desperately wanted a Wooloo. They were cute, they were fluffy, and they were incredibly strong once evolved. He caught one within his first week in Galar, and it evolved within the first year.

And that’s all folks! I hope you enjoyed each of these stories and explanations! I dunno if I’ll ever write this AU, but if anyone else decides to I’d be elated, just please tag me! Also, this would be a great LAMP AU, in my opinion, but if nothing else I really want it to at least be an analogical AU. If ya wanna do something different from there then be my guest!

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lilhemmo · 6 years ago

Note

Can I request a sequel to "I'll always be with you"? Maybe reader finding out she's pregnant and freaking out cause they still have a toddler?

read i’ll always be with you here!

ps, thanks for requesting a part two. you wanted pain?! here comes the pain ;)

When Evangeline turns four, you decide to sit her down and tell her about her father. Her real father.

As per usual, she’s stubborn and unwilling to accept anyone other than Sweet Pea as the only dad she’s ever known. She puts on a pout that looks a little bit like you when you want to eat cookie dough out of the tub and Sweet Pea tells you it’s bad for your health. But, it’s those deep eyes looking miles into your soul that make the both of you break down.

Sweet Pea starts the process of legally adopting her two days later.

You swear that it’s just the process of him choosing your daughter that your deadbeat boyfriend left behind that’s making you emotional. Of course you’d want to eat a whole tub of pickles dipped in soft serve because Sweet Pea is just that nice. It’s normal, right?

Except at the next family get together, your mom notes that you look like you’ve gained a little weight around your middle. You put your hand to your stomach a little too defensively, but try to shrug it off and tell her that you’ve got a real man taking care of you and you’re just fat and happy.

Then you take off to the convenience store as soon as you’ve put both Pea and Eve to bed. You leave a note on the counter that you’re running out for tampons, but you pick up a pregnancy test instead.

Actually, you pick up three. Just in case.

The first one pops a negative, but you use both of the remaining tests just to be sure. Your stomach starts to churn as you await the results, and you’re nothing short of breathless when the two tests both show stripes resulting in a positive.

There are a few choice words you use in the moment and you’re glad your toddling daughter is currently snoozing a few rooms over.

For some reason it takes you another week and three more pregnancy tests to finally break the news to someone. And it’s not even on purpose.

Sweet Pea rakes in enough cash with his auto shop and the Wyrm that you can afford to only work part-time, a virtual job that you can work from the comforts of your very own home. Toni comes to visit you on Tuesdays after her early morning shift at the local bookstore before she heads out to the Wyrm, but you tell her to bring you decaf instead of your regular and she knows.

“So, how far along are you?”

You spit out your disgusting decaf, half-thanking her that you don’t have to drink anymore of it. It’s a horrid substitute.

“Before you try to make up some bull crap lie about trying to get healthy because you want to be the perfect soccer mom, I also noticed that you only drank water at the Wyrm the past couple of weeks, and you’re wearing baggy clothing even though you haven’t gained that much weight.” Toni looks at you knowingly, raising a dark brow and flashing you that beautiful smirk that means she’s been onto you for a while. “Plus, you’re glowing.”

You cave, “I went to the doctor when I found out just to be sure, and I’m five weeks.”

“You need to tell Pea,” Toni crosses her arms over her chest as if she were scolding you. She licks her lips, but you beat her to it: “I know, Topaz. I’m working on that part. Right after I get over the fact that we have a four year-old and I’m pregnant.”

Toni shakes her head and chuckles, “Pea is gonna be excited, and you know it.”

Deep down you know she’s right, but anxiety creeps up your neck like a spider that you know you can’t swat away.

Toni offers to take Evangeline for the weekend so you and Sweet Pea can go on a date and do some house chores with no interruptions. You think you’ll even be able to catch up on that Hulu show you’ve been binge-watching.

But, a rough bought of morning sickness makes you less than eager to go out that night, coupled with the swell of your belly that you can’t hide under a form-fitting set of clothes. Sweet Pea senses that something is wrong and you both love and hate him for it.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks you as he pulls on his Serpent vest. He approaches you where you sit on the edge of the bed, slotting his knees between your thighs and leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’ve been off lately, but I figured it was just because Evie was starting to lose her teeth and got gum in her hair the other day. But this is something else.”

You can’t help it. You blurt, “Do you want more kids?”

Sweet Pea is down on his knees in a millisecond, his hands cupping your cheeks as he forces you to look him in the eyes, “Hey, of course I do. Where is this coming from?”

You lick your lips and damn your hormones. “When do you want kids?”

“Baby,” he pushes your hair away from your eyes so he can look at you clearly. His voice is soft and husky and if it were any other conversation you’d have him in your sheets already.

That word makes you unravel. Tears leak down your eyes and you duck your head so you don’t have to look at him and face the truth.

“Hey,” he cradles you to his chest, rising just enough to hold you. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. C’mon, I love you, no matter what. What’s making you feel this way?”

You furiously wipe at your face, hating your body for betraying you like this. How dare you not be in control of your own emotions? Are they even yours anymore? Is this how you’re going to be like as a two-child mom?

Sweet Pea can read your mind, it seems, because he runs his palm over your head, smoothing your hair as he whispers, “Stop thinking so hard and talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Time stops.

In those milliseconds where it takes him to respond, you’ve already formulated a plan to pack your bags and find someone else to stay with because there’s no way that Sweet Pea is okay with having another baby while you still have a toddler to raise. The societal norm of premarital children shouldn’t bear a weight on you, but it does for some reason and you can’t help but wonder what everybody else will think.

“I’m gonna be a dad to two babies?” he asks in astonishment, his hands already touching your body so much more gingerly than before.

You swipe at your face and your voice shakes, “I-I I’m sorry, Pea, I don’t know how-”

“Oh, I’ll show you how,” he practically growls into your neck, gently tilting you back onto the bed so he can straddle your waist. Sweet Pea’s eyes are shining with admiration and hunger and it lights you on fire and chills you to the bone at the same time.

He catches sight of the absolute terror in your eyes and it breaks him out of his carnal reaction to simmer down and treat you tenderly. He brushes kisses all over your face and down your neck to your collarbones, feather-light and intimate.

“I am so sorry you’ve had to go through this alone,” he murmurs, mouth hot against your flesh. He noses your earlobe and it’s like you’re the only people in the universe when he speaks, “I can’t wait to see you waddling around the house unable to see your feet. You’ll be so pretty, baby, so pretty. I can’t believe it.”

Damn your hormones. They can’t let you have anything, can they?

“Pea,” your voice cracks, “I still have Evangeline.”

“We have Evangeline,” he reminds you, tone firm. Sweet Pea stares you straight in the eyes, those chocolate irises swirling with too many shades of emotion to count. He kisses your nose, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know, but I just...she’s so young, babe, and I just don’t know if we’re any kind of ready.” You sniffle and lick your lips, shaking your head as reality comes crashing down on you in waves, “She hasn’t even started kindergarten yet. A-And I don’t-I just don’t know if we’re financially stable to support them both and I don’t want you to feel trapped and I-”

He doesn’t kiss you to shut you up, because he knows how that would piss you off. Instead, He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours until you understand that he’s not going anywhere.

“I own the garage, girl,” he laughs, touching his lips to yours in a brief peck. “If I need to take more payroll, I can. And I practically own the Wyrm, once I can buy it out of Veronica’s slippery hands. We’re golden, baby. We’ll be alright.”

You look at him and for the first time since you craved pickles dipped in soft serve, you realize that he might just be right.

“Are you sure?” You have to give him one last out, one last escape plan, before you’ll ever convince yourself that you’re not trapping him into this life.

Sweet Pea crushes your lips with his as if to convey the message without words. He runs his palm against the expanse of your belly underneath your shirt, a smile gracing his lips even as he keeps on kissing you. His thumb tickles your navel but you don’t care because your belly is alight with fire for this man who will stop at no ends to make sure that you are safe and happy.

“I love you,” you find yourself repeating like a mantra. “I love you so much, I love you.”

He echoes his words against your lips and just as you roll your hips into him, you feel the coolness of metal against your left hand.

“Please?” he asks, breath stuttering as he leans back to look you in the eyes.

You don’t care about the size of the rock on your finger because you know this man loves you. And size isn’t always important, and even when he does, he’s got it where it counts.

“You didn’t even have to ask,” you murmur before yanking him down by the lapels to kiss him again.

And you don’t plan on stopping any time soon. You have the house to yourselves, after all.

now you guys have me wanting to do a part three!!! what the literal heck man!!!!

a/n: on a serious note, drop me an ask and let me know what you think! if you’d like, request another prompt!

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea one shot #sweet pea fanfic #riverdale #riverdale x reader #riverdale one shot #riverdale fanfic #riverdale imagine #my writing

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thecardsimagine · 6 years ago

Text

Of shipwrecks and seafoam

Summary: Let me tell you a story about a pirate and a merman, finding a love that goes beyond insecurities and death. Let yourself be taken away onto a journey about doubt and secrets, understanding and a bond that even goes beyond the deep blue of the ocean.

Pairing: Merman!Julian Devorak x Pirate!Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death, Killing Genre: Romance, Drama, Alternate Universe _________________________________

a/n: Please consider reading this story from the beginning first if you found this part. Just click this text to go to the Prologue!

Find all parts under the tag ‘Seaweed’ on my blog

Or read it here on AO3!

Tagging: @julians-chest-hair / @sireennotsiren

_________________________________

Epilogue

Come in, have a seat! Let me tell you a story about a pirate and a merman, finding a love that goes beyond insecurities and death. Why don't you let yourself be taken away onto a journey about doubt and secrets, understanding, and a bond that even goes beyond the deep blue of the ocean?

There once was a merman so desperate to become human, with his charms and physical strength he collected every other mermaid and merman in the ocean to create the ultimate solution for his problem. There was no means to expensive for him to take it and who didn't give him the wished-for results was mercilessly disposed of by this leader. It was hard, they needed so many human lives that they almost fell victim to their own hunger for success, until finally, a young, knowledgeable merman succeeded in creating a potion. He was celebrated and praised for his effort, and the leader who wanted to be a human so bad did not even wait for another moon to pass before he swallowed it whole.

He was gifted with two legs, a gill-free body, and looks that made the gods green of envy. But what he could not receive through this potion was the ability to be a human, and he was soon to be exposed of as nothing but an imitator by a fearless boy and the softest kind of magic, water splashing the human mermaid. Neither the merman who crafted the potion, nor the leader could have known what it would do to him, to be wet once more, but in shock and horror the people had to watch him turn back into his fish-self, screaming and screeching for help, they thought it was better to kill him than see him suffer as much.

So they brushed him with a torch, hoping his soul would be able to rest. Burning and crying, the merman crawled back to the water he had come from, a mere piece of charred coal he was as he sunk into the arms of his flock. They mourned and blamed the merman who had created the potion, putting every accusation and every fault on him. Driven with fear and guilt, the merman had no other chance but to agree to care for the leader from that day onward, restoring what could be saved from it.

But not even a full phase of the moon passed, when the leader had a request for the merman. He wanted to be human once again. And in his greed, he made the merman swear to create the best serum he could, or he would lose what little the merman had left from his family with certainty. When the merman didn't tend to the leader's wounds, he would hide away in his cave, mixing and creating potions. But none was good enough, none even came close to the miracle he had created before.

And they needed humans. So many humans. If there wasn't a need for flesh in the flock, then he took whatever he could, from a tooth to a bone. But no mixture, no separation, and no magic helped, so all he could do was continue his work alone and far away from the flock who lived their lives without a care in the ocean. His name was Julian.

One day, something clicked in the merman. As he watched the human bodies fall down from a burning, wooden monstrosity, their feet kicking as they struggled to stay alive and one after one getting tugged under the water by his peers, he realized that this was just as bad as what humans used to do to his kind a few centuries ago. Desperately, he tried to tell the other mermaids to stop, but they only looked at him as if he had gone mad, shoving him away and telling him to stop being an idiot and do what he owes to the flock.

When another human fell into the water, the shadow of a big pillar of wood falling on top of them, Julian's body reacted before he could think about his actions. As if it was destiny for those two to work together, the human ducked underwater, right into his arms and as fast as he could, without making anyone else notice, he took the human to an island he knew. It was close to his cave, but far enough from the flock and he was pleased with his doings, hoping it would end their endless consume of humans.

Julian worked hard to keep the human alive, their condition dire and in need of aid. Until they woke up for the first time, he had always been with them from morning till night. If he wanted their help later, he knew from his experiences that he needed to gain their trust. But something changed before he could receive either of these two things, something, that would change his life entirely too.

At times, he would tend to the needs of the flock and the leader, watching over the human from the safety of his water. He was so surprised when he got to see them awake for the first time, his reflex telling him to disappear. But he was too curious and eager to learn about them for his own good. For the first time, he saw a real chance in creating a serum with the help of the human, and it urged him to keep watch over them.

Seeing their struggles and how they overcame them was something he had never been able to witness before. The sheer willpower to survive though they looked like they were giving up every other minute, it captivated him. He grew some respect for the human race, something he had never had before as they were nothing more than a means to an end for his species. And without even realizing it, when he looked into their eyes for the first time, a passion started to beat inside of him like there had never been before. Something hard to describe, something incredible.

I believe you know what happened from here on out, right? The get to know each other, the realization about their feelings, the heartbreak. All those things that happened before they parted ways at the beach of the pirate's hometown, promising each other their eternal devotion. Well, this story is not another fairytale, this is just a simple story of two lives uniting as one. What happened after their separation you might ask, well, let me tell you about it.

The human, in pain and with many struggles, managed to reach their hometown, where they were welcomed with open arms. Many had feared the sinking of their ship, and they were handled like a wonder to have survived. While human doctors took care of them, they told everyone the whole story of what had happened, gave all the families the knowledge of their beloved whereabouts. Everyone was thankful for them to come back, though they also worried.

You see, these humans believed in shipwrecks, in pirates, and in canons. They did not believe in fairytales. If they had confronted the human with their doubts a few months ago, undoubtedly, they would have agreed. But now, they did not argue. Even if everyone thought they had gone mad, the human kept believing in the mermaids and especially in the merman that was waiting at the beach for their return.

And did they return, you ask? They did! Many moons had passed since they left, their body needing the time to heal. But they didn't even need to call for him, Julian was right there when they stepped into the water, the two holding each other like they never had before. Then and there, they let go of the last insecurities and doubts they had about their lives and each other, making many more promises and sharing more kisses, now that they finally could. A lot had happened, and the human was eager to tell him, presenting him with what they had done and asking if he agreed to their plans, to which he eagerly nodded.

With the help of their family and any extra hands that came to honor the pirate that had survived the shipwreck, they build a house on the beach. Small, cozy. It stood over the water, completed with a hatch for Julian, so he could come in whenever he wanted. Like in their dream, they build a dock too, and though there was no forest, they cultivated their own plants with Julian's help. With selling their vegetables, shells, and pearls - which the merman was kind enough to bring home - the two of them managed to buy a lot of books for Julian to read and survive even in the winters, cuddled together in their shared home.

A few times a year, Julian's family would come to visit, and they would cook them a feast to enjoy before sending them back home. Julian only went back to his flock two times to get some of his belongings, and he wasn't welcomed very warmly, so he stayed with the human for the rest of his life. They would swim together in the summer, eat dinner every evening and talk about everything. Sometimes they would argue, but it never was bad enough for their bond to break.

Many, many years passed that those two stayed together. Humans were wondering about the lonely elderly that lived on the beach, that would tell their children funny stories about pirates and mermaids, but they never questioned them either. Like Julian had told them so long ago, he aged with them, his hair turning grey, his eyesight growing bad. But he never stopped making them laugh and singing to them, even when his voice started to crack with every note he let out.

When his family came over for the last time, they said their goodbyes, knowing they would not find him at the house at the beach anymore if they ever returned. For the first time, his sister cried, and so did Julian. Mazelinka didn't, and he asked her to take care of his sister for him, apologizing over and over that he could not stay. Only when they had already said their farewells and swam away, the two mermaids held hands as they cried and grieved for their dying brother and son.

But when Julian returned to his home, he found his human, weakened by age, coughing his name quietly. And he got to their bed, holding their hand. "If I die, I want to be with you," they said, using all the strength they had left in them to get out of the bed. "So please, Julian, can't you take me with you?" Of course, he agreed, knowing his time with them was little and his own just as over as theirs. So, in the middle of summer, around the time they had met for the first time, many decades before, the two swam out into the ocean together for the last time. The human was barely able to hold themselves over water, so he laid them on his chest, letting them listen to his faint heartbeat, holding them like they taught him too.

"I love you, Julian. I have loved you for many years now, and I will love you for many lives more," they said. "I shall love you for for the same lives then, my dear. I can't wait to find you and hold you in the next one."

And as silent, as they had arrived at the mainland, they disappeared from it. Leaving behind a house, countless books, and some shells and pearls.

For them to never be seen again, behind the white crowns of seafoam.

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dorkyungsoowrites · 6 years ago

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I've basically fallen from. The face of the earth, I ended up doing construction full time??? It's awful 10/10 do not recommend. Have ghosted everyone and everything. I come back and peep but am a giant scaredy cat to interact. If you're still down I'd love to hear director's commentary about Fatal Ties?? 😭

It’s very flattering that you’re this interested in my writing. I already sent you a private message about the other parts of this ask so this is all commentary. I had way more to say than I thought but it was fascinating to re-visit these passages and realize some things I missed before, and just expose myself I guess haha.

Before I start this is one of two warnings. I hardly ever get to talk about my writing in depth so I’m going to be indulgent. In other words, this will be lengthy. I’m putting it all under a read more.

Fatal Ties Director’s Commentary

Chapter 1:

Firstly, I’ve edited this chapter on my own and it reads completely different now. No, I will not be posting the edited chapters here. I’ve change the pov and given each character a different name in order to make it a full, original mafia story. I have not gone back and read this story in months at this point though so the thoughts that spring to mind should be interesting/informative if not entertaining.Also of note real quick, there will be dark and less than savory topics mentioned; namely violence, child abuse, human trafficking, nonbinary erasure, drugs, and sexual violence. None ad nauseam, but they are themes strung throughout this story and I feel it’s important you’re warned before continuing. If you are sensitive to these or think you may be triggered please do not force yourself to read this. Most of it is in chapter 5, but still. That being said, it won’t be all doom and gloom so let’s just jump into it.

Typically I enjoy starting off a story with dialogue or an action. Here, it was dialogue. Baekhyun entering the Boss’ manor to meet them. I think the best starting point for a story is the inciting incident for the main plot-line. Many mainstream scripts are structured so you see what the main characters lives are like on the regular before the balance is upset, but in writing I feel that bogs down the first few chapters so I skip it. This is fanfiction for fun so who cares about setup. It’s Baekhyun. There’s an arranged marriage. You know the drill.

For “Fatal Ties” the Boss has been working on this truce for years, but the main plot of the telling is them actually meeting Baekhyun, and how that changes them as their relationship grows. The Boss doesn’t like the idea of marrying a stranger. Let alone someone from the rival syndicate. Who would? Baekhyun, as they find out rather quickly. He’s too amorous about it all. They don’t trust Baekhyun. They believe he’s a honeypot the other boss sent to spy on them. I mean, of course they think that. Baekhyun is clumsily flirting and overly flattering. Spitting compliments out excitedly at every turn even though it’s clear he knows nothing about them. Calling them princess and doll. They’ve worked too hard for too long, and sacrificed too much to suffer being mis-gendered in their own home by some immature idiot. They don’t suffer being looked down on or erased anymore. They will be recognized for who they are, and as an equal to every other mafia boss.

Their rage boils inside them with every slip. The moment the Boss grabs Baekhyun’s collar is when I tried to set up how precarious this all is. That threat isn’t empty. The Boss will kill him and the rest of his family if this contract doesn’t work out. They’d rather just sign a contract though. Less work and no sloppy transition times as mentioned in the next chapter.

Speaking of which, this contract isn’t legally binding. It’s more an honor contract than anything. That’s why Baekhyun is there to marry the Boss. It’s really just another business deal to the Boss. That’s how real mafias joined their houses in the past. I made this more clear by adding this line to the Boss’ dialogue in the edit: “Also contracts in our…realm of business aren’t legally binding so it’s insurance. Symbolic more than anything, really, but that’s that.”

As a side note, I ended up doing far more research than I anticipated for this. Most of the knowledge I acquired hasn’t been utilized yet, but I refuse to think I wasted hours of my life reading business, money laundering and fraud law for nothing. Limited liability, shell corporations, deficits, ugh it’s giving me a headache just thinking about all the jargon I had to sift through.

Okay back to the thing. I made a conscious decision to describe the Boss’ manor as such. Their dad built up the drug business. They’re just tweaking it to be more profitable. It hasn’t been revealed yet, but their dad wanted to surround himself with expensive things to feel more important and successful since he started from near nothing. The Boss, on the other hand, doesn’t enjoy living in this big house. It’s too cold and empty. They want to live in a normal home further from the city and have their only worry be about if their garden is getting enough sunlight. A peaceful life. That won’t happen unless a truce is called between them and Baekhyun’s family. It truly means everything to them that this marriage go well.

Had someone tell me it was so satisfying when the Boss smashed that mug over Baekhyun’s head. That felt good. I figured that’s the first major tell of their character. They get annoyed at being mis-gendered and harassed, but instead of leaving or yelling or anything a regular person might do, they lash out with violence. They were raised in the mafia where mistakes were atoned with blood. You ever seen “John Wick 3”? Fucking love Keanu Reeves. Some of my favorite action movies. Anyway, sort of like that. The Boss has very little mercy in them. Or patience. Bad combination. But for good reason. Any small slip-up could result in life in prison, so yeah.

The other major tell of character was in what the Boss did right after. Cleaning up the broken mug. They take responsibility for what they knew was a mistake. They clean up their own mess. They immediately know to call for Yixing the doctor and calmly explain things to Baekhyun when he wakes up. I intentionally never had them say “sorry.” They admit they were wrong to hit him, but they don’t apologize. Even so, the moment Baekhyun sees a glimmer of a chance for approval from the Boss he jumps in to help cover it up. Knowing that if his parents found out they hit him any peace that might’ve been forming would be tenuous at best. More likely, his dad would take it as a personal attack and retaliate.

Then right at the end Baekhyun shows some kind of guilt and/or concern for causing their hand injury and it throws off the Boss’ instincts. Suddenly he’s willing to shoulder the blame and offering to help. Being respectful. A total flip from before. It makes the Boss harden their guard more. Proving he shouldn’t be trusted. Or, at least, they can’t entertain the possibility that he’s trustworthy. Not yet. Still, he’s saving them significant stress by lying to his parents about his head, so the Boss is much more gentle in turning him down before going to bed.

Chapter 2:

Despite what it looks like, this sex scene was not put in gratuitously. It’s very, very important setup for just about everything else, and it’s filled with foreshadowing. I knew it would be important to get a glimpse at the Boss’ secret affair in it’s normality before it got twisted a few chapters later. It shows a peek into the Boss’ hidden personal desires. They crave real affection. Their issues prevent them from actually believing that Kyungsoo loves them, but deep down they hope it’s true. They’re wary of entertaining those hopes however, because that means they could have a weakness for others to exploit. See literally any secret agent plot-line ever. The loved ones are threatened first and used as leverage for the villains. So the Boss denies that it’s anything more than physical.

I tried to convey the timeline a bit better later, but just so it’s clear Baekhyun meets the Boss three years after they’ve taken over from their dad. So Kyungsoo and them met back then and very painfully slowly the tension grew. I will admit to having fun imagining this bit in my own head just cause I love sexual tensions that build until they break and it’s this massive burst of passion. The Boss doing their best to keep everything professional, turning Kyungsoo down when he tried to talk to them, until finally they caved. Realizing after having a few conversations with him that, “fuck…I’ve liked him this whole time.” They’re around each other literally all the time. A bond had formed without them even noticing. Once it was noticed it took yet another year of Kyungsoo flirting and finding excuses to touch them, like, on the base of their spine, their hair, their hand, etc, before their will broke and they gave in. They’re both horrible at communicating it, but they do care for one another. Maybe at varying degrees, but they care. I hope that was made clear in this chapter.

Of note, Kyungsoo’s immediate hatred of Baekhyun, the fact he brought it up after the Boss had already switched off their brain to be submissive, the pet names he uses, the fact that the call for silence at the end is explained from the Boss’ perspective, and when he brings up the idea of wiping out Baekhyun’s family without a contract there’s this sentence: “He was back on this nonsense again.”

The theme here is control, if you didn’t notice. The Boss enjoying a space where they’re safe out of control, Kyungsoo trying to convince them not to give up sole control of their business by partnering, etc. That’s not all the foreshadowing, but I don’t want to make the plot too easy to predict by giving them away.

The last few paragraphs are the deep dive into the Boss’ motivations and reasoning. I think it’s also the second time Baekhyun’s family’s business is alluded to, but I’ll reveal that in a later chapter commentary when it’s possible for the reader to have deduced it on their own. It also shows in the last few lines where the Boss’ priorities are. The contract is number one. They will sacrifice everything for it. Even what may be their only chance at something close to love.

Chapter 3:

This is the second time I’ve written the main character eating eggs on toast. It’s delicious, and I lack the creativity to describe different foods. It’s just to pace the scene with actions because they’re eating instead of just sitting around. If one day my works are looked at by English professors they’ll probably say it symbolizes the Boss’ practical, fast-paced lifestyle. It doesn’t. I just like eggs on toast.

The fact Baekhyun doesn’t lie about snooping is the first big revealing thing showing that he doesn’t really want to. He doesn’t care about being caught because he just doesn’t care that much. He makes the remark about firing the guards posted outside his door as a joke. Ha-ha I walked around your house doing nothing with no supervision. He doesn’t realize how grave a mistake that was. He doesn’t realize that remark was the cause of two lives being ruined by the Boss. He will understand later because, as you learn later, he listens in on the Boss’ meeting with those guards via bug he put in their blazer. I have not written the effect of that yet, but it did affect Baekhyun. There’s a very clear butterfly effect from this one small choice.

Next he tries to get Kyungsoo to talk. He plays it off as trying to get to know the head of security. Needling the Boss to try and prove his hunch that it was Kyungsoo he heard them fucking the night before. I didn’t bother insinuating he had suspicions about anyone else because Baekhyun is smart and he knows that 1) Yixing is the only other person he’s met so far and that wasn’t his voice. 2) Kyungsoo is at the Boss’ side all day, and he hasn’t spoken around Baekhyun yet.

When he sees the Boss is about to leave he uses the name “kitten.” Baiting them by antagonizing them. Switching his tactics. The day before he had played up the whole “I’m here to do what you want” thing and now he’s realized he should be more domineering. He doesn’t always succeed because that’s not entirely in his nature, but here it sort of works to, as John Mulaney and JJ Bittenbinder would say, “throw them off their rhythm.”

I amuse myself by adding in little quirks to the Boss. Each time I describe a room it’s meant to be pictured immaculate and modern with everything in perpendicular lines. Showing that they’re a little peculiar about style and cleanliness. Anal retentive one might even say. All their clothes are tailored, most of them are suits, the mass of cabinets in the kitchen so the counters are clear, etc. Another side note, this is set in the 2000’s mostly for law reasons. Some didn’t exist until later which made what the Boss does near impossible to get away with, but I wanted cell phones and I’m picky about realism like that. So 2000’s decor. Black and white with pops of color in the decorations, chrome, clean finishes. I work in interior design so I was a little particular about some stuff for no reason other than my own amusement like the big kitchen with white countertops, and the blue and grey paisley wing-back chairs. When I edit this chapter I’m going to go into more detail on the rug though to give a clearer picture when the blood ruins it. Which really did cause the Boss dismay just like the bloody hand wrappings. For cleanliness but also they don’t like conducting business at home outside of paperwork and research. I thought it showed more about their character that they were upset over the bloody wrappings rather than the dead body and such.

My favorite part about writing the Boss’ character is how they’re constantly in a shade of darker grey. Everyone operates in shades of grey, but I love it when I see characters that are closer to the black and yet you’re still cheering for them. They’re morally corrupt and objectively not a good person, but you still like them. They’re still the hero, so to speak, of the story. That’s what I’m trying to achieve with the Boss. Back to “John Wick.” He’s a good example. So is Loki. They’re mass murderers, but we as an audience still love them because they feel like real people. Their motivations garner sympathy, and it’s their methods that are skewed. I love the challenge of threading that line between the Boss being the protagonist and villain simultaneously. Referring back to a line Kyungsoo had; they may need to be protected from themselves. Disney villain style I guess. Their actions cause their own doom. Not necessarily because the hero did anything. Gaston, Clayton, The Evil Queen, Frollo, Scar, etc, etc. You get it. I love that. That’s not giving away the ending, by the way. I don’t like following formulas too much. I honestly haven’t even decided on an ending yet. There’s lots of options. I’ll decide when I get there.

Anyway, this chapter was my attempt at showing more of that dark grey for the boss. They could have just as easily let the guards off with a warning, or broken a finger or something, but instead they went for the extreme. “Their offense was too great” as the chapter says. All they did was let Baekhyun out of his room, you might say. The Boss doesn’t see it that way. They don’t know what Baekhyun did unsupervised all night. But somehow he already found out about one of the few secrets that could topple everything out of balance. Their affair. Not that his family is sensitive over infidelity or anything, but it was what the Boss was afraid of; Kyungsoo being used against them. A weakness. Baekhyun found their weakness just like that, and they thought the reason was the guards letting him out. If Baekhyun hadn’t gotten restless legs, or just not teased the Boss about walking around that morning, they probably wouldn’t have checked the security footage, and those guards would’ve survived.

Instead, the Boss outright kills one and mutilates the other. Framing him so he’d go to prison. They enjoy taking out their frustration on the guard. In their mind he deserves it for being careless.

Had someone comment a reference to Yixing with the whole “act of kindness, act of cruelty. Balance” thing, but that was actually inspired by a scene in season 2 of Fargo. Although both people end up dying in that show. Love that show. Inspired this whole thing actually. I know I’ve mentioned that somewhere else before, but it’s true. It’s one of my favorites it’s so brilliant. I don’t think this will ever be up to par with that, but I’m okay with that.

Point being, consequences. Baekhyun’s choices had a ripple effect, and they continue past this chapter.

Chapter 4:

Obviously you find this out later, but Baekhyun was listening to the Boss and Kyungsoo on those headphones. Not music.

The Boss gives in to talking with Baekhyun in the car because they find it cute he’s acting like a puppy. Also because he might let something else slip. Oh, also, the line about them lying about nothing being wrong was them being worried about Baekhyun blabbering about their affair with Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun attempts to have a normal conversation, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. All the Boss can talk about is work. If you’ve ever watched “Hot Fuzz” I imagine this interaction playing something like the first day Nicholas and Danny are together. It’s not as sharp as in that movie, but the feeling of a less experienced person questioning this serious person with the least serious questions. Baekhyun sees this as a game or a movie more than something real and dangerous. He only heard the meeting in the last chapter, after all. He doesn’t realize yet that the gunshot killed that guard. He’s watched his mom get married to a mafia leader and live rich like an actress. He’s naive of the price it takes to stay comfortable like that. It’s still a movie where people are killed off screen and there are no major repercussions. Even in his answer about the knife he says he would kiss them as if it were some James Bond film.

I tried to make it clear, but just to spell it out, Baekhyun is the rival leader’s step-son. He has two step-brothers from the rival leaders’ two previous marriages–Minseok and Jongin. So he didn’t grow up in this dark, depraved world like these other characters. He was folded in at an older age. He’s more the black sheep of the family because he’s not blood related. That’s why he says he was happy to marry the Boss. But it’s still seeing through this movie lens. He doesn’t know what it really means to learn how to run a syndicate, and the Boss sees that. They scoff at him and can’t take him seriously.

At the meeting the reason the Boss wants to crack the mask of Minseok is to feel out his real personality. In their mind, every lawyer is an actor who writes a script before trial and reads it for an audience–the jury. They wanted to see Minseok when not acting. When they see he has a spine, oh buddy, they would’ve dropped Baekhyun for Minseok right then and there if it was their choice.

Oh, yeah, and they’re totally straight up manipulating Baekhyun. Using that nickname as faux affection. Letting his family think Baekhyun’s honeypot skills were working, and Baekhyun that his regular charm was getting them to like him.Baekhyun’s mom mentioning they operate hotels, yes, interesting. She’s also in fantasyland if you can tell. Planning their wedding as if they were in love and not out of business arrangement. She’s not naive to the real purpose of the meeting, but her focus and excitement is in the wedding which is why everyone’s just kind of letting her do all the planning.

The last thing I’ll say on this chapter is from part of my response to someone asking about the Boss’ goals. They want to gain customers, profit and influence. Expand their drug empire. It’s a smart business move. Simple as that. If you want more detail, then they want symbiosis. It’s a hassle having to work an underground drug ring when there’s cops, let alone another gang out for their blood. Getting Baekhyun’s family to stop the violence against their group and help is the only smart move in their eyes.

Chapter 5:

Oofda strap in this one gets real dark. This is the chapter most of those warnings at the beginning were for so feel free to skip to the next chapters commentary if you want.

Yes the lapel grab was an intentional mirror of the one Baekhyun did at breakfast in chapter two. Just felt like it. No special reason.

An extreme disconnect from human lives? Hotels? Even the Boss thinks it’s wrong? What the fuck does Baekhyun’s family do? Congrats if you’ve figured it out already. The major giveaway is in a bit though.

The whole, “I like things that are beautiful and strong” thing is a reference to a video game character named Zevran who’s a pansexual assassin and one of the loves of my life. Life-changing, that dialogue. Perfectly worded how my pansexuality felt. It meant a lot at the time so it’s stuck with me. When I edit this though I’m gonna change it around a bit. It’s too close to the actual game dialogue right now.

When the Boss retreats it’s because they felt breathless. They’re in denial about being afraid, but it’s cause they’ve never felt attraction like that before. Sincere fondness, and it went both ways. They actually felt something for Baekhyun. So they counteract it to the extreme and pretend to be emotionless and dismissive. To the point of being cruel when speaking about him to Kyungsoo as if he were a dog that needed to be locked in its kennel.

The throwing things is just Baekhyun being petty. He is angry, but not super mad. Enough to want to make the Boss hear his anger. Not enough to keep it up for long though.

More foreshadowing once Kyungsoo comes in. There’s been other stuff in between too. I like reading it and cackling in villainy because I know all the secrets.

Now let’s take a moment while reading the first part of this sex scene and just reflect on how Baekhyun is listening to everything happening.

…

Alright let’s continue. We stan a man who’s good at oral.

Okay sorry let’s actually continue. I’m delaying the inevitable here.

This section was hard to write, and I know it’s hard to read too, but it’s important to the story to have it described. Not only for awareness, as I have experienced something very similar and didn’t know what was wrong, or why I felt the way I did afterward, until much much later. But also because this is a major event that drastically changes how the Boss interacts with just about everyone, and their relationships. I know there are stories out there that use sexual violence as a plot device, and I’ve tried my best not to do that. I hope I’ve handled it with sensitivity and care. Being mindful of how certain things are worded and such. If you don’t take anything else away from this I do want you to know this: this is consensual. It is not rape. The Boss is just as confused about what happened as I’m sure some of you are. They’re deeply conflicted about it, but they push it down and ignore it at first. That’s the point. Shades of grey. Conflict. Revelation of characters. Okay, on with the rest of it.

The consent. The unreadable twinkle in his eye. If it wasn’t obvious, Kyungsoo gets off on having control over the Boss. This possessiveness is turning into a poison. Hearing that they want him unequivocally ends up being the toes hanging off the edge of the cliff before the plummet.

“He took what he wanted from you and you gave willingly.” That’s the line that explains why the Boss doesn’t do anything when Kyungsoo starts going too far with the pain levels. Gripping their thighs too hard. He already gave them the tension release and satisfaction. They were reciprocating, they thought. They felt safe with Kyungsoo. That’s why their trysts worked. They trusted Kyungsoo to keep them safe at all times. They could let go and not think, but for some reason that night turns out to be different.

When Kyungsoo screws his eyes shut, it’s the point of no return. No matter what they did from then on it would end the same way. He’s blocking out the expression on their face. He’s trying his damnest to focus on finishing. He’s lost control. As stated, some conflict is making him frustrated, and he’s taking it too far. He should have stopped, but something makes him keep going.

When they hold Kyungsoo closer, they’re in denial. And they’ll stay in denial that anything wrong had happened for a while. Kyungsoo slows at this point and there’s hope that he’ll come back to himself. He moves them into a more comfortable position and removes his hands from their bruising grip. Kissing their neck and chest even. The pain when he thrusts inside is more layover from the previous actions than rough treatment in that moment. They could still call the night rough play. Let’s call this the good timeline.

I still have so many emotions when his hand clamps tighter on their mouth and he mutters, “almost there.” The desperation and pain and guilt laced through his tone in my head breaks my heart a bit.

The Boss is not a fragile person. They’ve always been able to exert some amount of control in their life. But when they can’t stop Kyungsoo suddenly they feel helpless. The person they trusted is hurting them, and it’s not even malicious. They can’t even think through all the pain.

After Kyungsoo finishes neither of them have time to process what happened before Baekhyun screams. By the emotions flickering on Kyungsoo’s face though, it’s implied he knows he fucked up very, very badly and is experiencing clarity.

I really just added in the Baekhyun struggling with guards in his underwear thing for some levity in the transition between heavy things. He could’ve been dressed and just yelling from his doorway, sure, but that’s no fun.

Baekhyun ends up confessing to planting multiple listening devices after convincing the Boss to get Kyungsoo to leave. But instead of their first thought being one of anger or worry over leaked secrets, the Boss thinks about his confession. It’s the second time this chapter they’ve thought about Baekhyun in a positive light when there were more pressing matters.

“I know the difference between playing rough and abuse. I know what real pain sounds like. Trust me.“ And, "Kyungsoo is much more suited for working for my family. You know that right?” are the two biggest clues about what Baekhyun’s family does. Have you guessed yet? Locked in your answer? It’s prostitution and sex trafficking.

When Baekhyun says he was terrified hearing their screams it’s because he’s scarred from his step-dad’s "hotel business.” Saying that Kyungsoo is more suited for his family’s work implies things about his character that the Boss refuses to question. However Baekhyun crying is also out of relief that he didn’t find them more severely injured. With his family he was powerless to help the people they extorted and manipulated and took advantage of. He was able to do something here, though. He was able to scream and kick and call attention to it, even if he was a little late. He was able to help. Which is why he so readily agrees to get rid of the bugs to get the Boss to call Yixing.

Right before he leaves he contemplates trying to kiss them. His relief doesn’t overpower his smarts though, and he thinks better of it. I think the Boss would’ve called Yixing anyway, but they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to also get something from Baekhyun.

Chapter 6:

I am so…emotionally exhausted from that last chapter, but there’s not much left at this point so let’s finish.

Jongdae calling himself Greased Lightning. Just felt like referencing Grease that day I guess. Wanted a dumb code name no one actually uses.

Agh that should say white collar crime oops.

“I’d call you a genius, but I’m in the room.” Lazy reference to Sherlock. Should take it out.

“Opening him up balls to brain.” Honestly that’s just straight up out of Game of Thrones. I loved the line too much haha. Took inspiration from Petyr Baelish on the bit about killing an innocent man with the guilty one to throw off suspicion too.

I actually did math the figure out the dimensions of the tie grid cause I’m like that I guess.

Originally the Boss was gonna reward him by just spending more time with him, but after the…incident, they decided to teach him a bit too. They realized he was smart and amicable to change.

“They know, and they know when to bail” is actually a reference to Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood with something Olivier said up on the North wall.

The “there are plenty worse than you” realization hits a lot harder knowing his family does what they do. It still gets me reading that line. He’s been through so much.

Pretty self explanatory on why the Boss doesn’t give in to their desires about Baekhyun. He’s too submissive still. They want someone to challenge them. Baekhyun gives them a glimpse at the possibility he’s capable, but it disappears just as fast.

As I was describing the city they’re driving home from I was thinking of Chicago, but as someone who’s visited many major cities it could be any of them really. In my head it’s Northern California though, mostly because 1) there’s plenty of stories out there now about mafia in New York or Chicago or Las Vegas. 2) they have history with mafia in real life that moved up there from the L.A. areas. 3) lots of coastal cities up that way where Baekhyun’s family could be doing business. Let’s not even get into all the organized crime in San Francisco and San Jose. Of course for this fanfiction version it could be in South Korea who knows. I only know American law so that’s how I think in terms of writing the Boss avoiding cops and what-not.

The fact the chapter didn’t end with the ties being purchased should’ve been the warning that something bad was gonna happen. This chapter was going too well, and there’s still no major conflict. Enter gunmen.

Also side note, I always end up doing way more research than necessary on almost every story. Spent a few hours reading about and looking at videos of bulletproof cars being shot with different calibers and doing 180’s and stuff to more accurately write this chase. I just like doing research I suppose. Definitely love learning new things. I’ll go down several google deep dives on any given subject during a month. It’s fun learning new things. The last one I did was a deep dive into fashion in the 1700’s which I think I’ve decided to use in the next requested story. They didn’t ask for it to be historical, but now I want to write about elaborate dresses so there.

“It was lucky.” It wasn’t. I can’t explain why yet though.

Chapter 7:

Y'all ever experienced stitches before? The scars are hard to get rid of. Okay that’s my commentary on that.

Actually no. If Baekhyun had gone to a legitimate doctor they probably would’ve used glue so the scar would be faint, but mafia doctor. Okay moving on.

There are handguns that hold more than seven rounds, but I couldn’t pass up referencing “John Wick 2.”

“I don’t know. Were you thinking, ‘holy shit holy shit, I just almost got shot’?” is a reference to the movie “Get Smart.” Y'all seeing a pattern yet? haha. Mostly just wanted a joke there. It sprung to mind. Although I do have a few lists with lines or words that I’ve seen and written down to use later, then I try to work them in somehow. It’s a dangerous method. It’s breed whole chapters and stories before. But I have a horribly inconsistent memory. Gossamer is a good example. Saw that word used somewhere, went, “ooh I like that word”, wrote it in the list, then used it in this chapter. While we’re on writing technique, I also really love using alliteration to emphasize certain sentences or pretty-up descriptions. It started because I was writing a character that talks in prose and poetry, and he does that all the time, but I liked how it sounded so I just kinda kept doing it. That character is Cole from Dragon Age by the way.

The rest of this is just setting up the mystery. Who in the car was the target? Who was shooting? Who’s the mole? Is there even a mole, or is someone simply following them? Will Baekhyun keep pushing for answers? Will the Boss cause the trouble they’re trying to avoid by retreating inward? Will any of them get killed? How could Baekhyun’s decision near the beginning possibly butterfly more?

Interesting, yes, hm. Time for more sinister cackling.

#thanks for asking #ask game #fatal ties

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increasethythunders · 6 years ago

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LEVIATHAN | 11. Apotheosis | MASTERLIST

words: 6k+

A/N: you can probably guess why this chapter hurt my feelings

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

After what felt like forever, lights flickered back on and air began to blow through the sub's vents again.

Jodie's heart was hammering, and she was pretty sure she had hit her side against something, the space just below her ribs throbbing with pain. Gill was standing up from previously being in a crumpled pile on the floor. Serizawa helped Graham up to her feet.

"Damage report." the commander said as everyone got back on their feet.

"Fire in the torpedo room is out." one of the men said. "Atmosphere is stable. We're pretty banged up but we'll make it."

"Make it where?" Mark asked.

"Can't fix our position," one of the control techs said. "But inertial says we're six hundred miles from departure."

Running the numbers in her head, Jodie's brows scrunched together in confusion. No way this sub could make six hundred miles in little over an hour. And the lights had only been out for about 30 minutes since the vortex. Despite everyone else's confusion, Stanton was beaming.

"That's impossible, unless.." Graham thought out loud, grasping her chin.

"I knew it, man!" Stanton exclaimed. "That vortex was a tunnel into the hollow earth!"

Everyone shot him a pointed look. He waved them off.

"Y'know, subterranean tunnel system that connects the entire planet - doesn't matter, I knew I was right - I told you, Chen!" he rambled.

"Shut up, Rick." she said, putting a hand to her throbbing temple.

The Hollow Earth was an old theory, up there with the likes of the Flat Earth theory and whatnot. It had been entertained by scientists back in the 1600s thanks to a one Edmund Halley, but in a few centuries it faded to nothing but science fiction. That is, until Dr. Houston Brooks proposed an updated version of the theory back in the 70s. He had tried to test his theory on the Monarch expedition to Skull Island, but at this point everyone knew how that went. While he had managed to gather evidence of cave systems deeper than usual, it just wasn't enough to prove the larger theory.

Until now, if Stanton was right.

Had Mothra known about the vortex? Was it encoded in the minds of all titans? That debate would have to wait, however, as they still had a mission to get on with.

"One-second emergency blow forward." the commander said.

The sub lurched ahead, dipping down into a crevasse.

"Doctor?"

"Launch probes." Serizawa said.

Ahead of them, a trio of probes flitted through the water, their floodlights illuminating the pitch black abyss around them. In the control room, the feeds from the drones appeared. As the sub followed their lead, they approached strange, twisting shapes that were still too vague to make out through the murk. But even then, it was obvious they weren't natural.

"Lights on, cameras good, range one thousand yards." Stanton said as he pushed the drones farther along.

As the sub and its guides continued through the darkness, Jodie could see the occasional flicker of life dart away from the lights. But one shape loomed, the shape of a woman's face - pale and ghostly - suddenly appearing on the feed. Jodie flinched.

"Jesus," Stanton said in mild shock.

As the probe pulled back, widening the frame, they found it wasn't some waterlogged corpse or a mermaid. It was the figurehead of what looked like a centuries old galleon. And it wasn't alone.

Dozens of wrecks were visible in the searchlights, many piled on top of each other. What looked like an authentic Viking ship raised its dragon-shaped figurehead from the remains of galleys, cogs, and frigates. The rusted cylinder of a submarine, covered in barnacles, lay near the broken remnants of a warship that had probably last seen the surface during the first world war. And they had all been drawn here by the vortex, thrown into the mouth of the abyss. And they could very well be next, just another addition to this graveyard.

But as they pushed forward, Jodie found that analogy had taken an all too literal turn.

Among the wrecks were immense bones - ribs, arms, legs, skulls, bony plates with spikes and spines and anything in between. And beyond that was something else.

"Pan right." Serizawa said.

There was a light in the abyss, but not the artificial blueish green light from the sub and its probes, it was almost a soft orange glow that emitted a reddish fog. It wasn't coming from the surface, but boiling up from a trench. It was lava, pouring out of fissures in the earth and creating a sort of underwater stream, flowing across the seafloor through giant structures that were definitely not natural. Gill leaned closer to the feed, eyes shining with fascination.

Through the muck were dozens of crumbling statues the size of skyscrapers, and alongside them were temples and other smaller buildings - the ruins of a cyclopean city. Breathtaking colonnades reminded Jodie of Roman architecture, but in some places the structure seemed more Egyptian. And in others they were more ornate, like Southeast Asian temples. And illuminating it all was the stream of lava.

"Amazing.." Gill said with a grin on her face.

Passing countless monuments, Jodie could barely make out what might be hieroglyphics, bas-reliefs, and murals of strange creatures and much smaller humans.

"Looks Egyptian, Roman maybe?" Jodie said, coming up from behind Gill to observe the feeds.

Chen shook her head. "No, this is something else, this is much older." She looked closer through the dim lighting. "Can't say what exactly, but it almost looks Mesopotamian at least."

Much larger murals came into view, and now Jodie could recognize what she was talking about. The strange creatures on the earlier hieroglyphics were much clearer now, and they all depicted the same four figures - Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan and Kong. And beneath them, smaller figures were arranged in various forms of respect, service, or worship.

"You were right." Gill breathed, looking over at Chen. "The legends, the stories..all of it. They're all true." She began taking stills of the ancient carvings.

"They really were the first gods." Graham whispered.

This changes everything, she thought. Emma, Chen, Serizawa, they had all been right. Although Emma had royally screwed up and gotten unknowable amounts of people killed needlessly, the link between humans and titans was inescapable.

What caught her attention the most was that there was nothing in the human figures' poses that suggested fear or intimidation. Piety, maybe. But also cooperation. This was the coexistence they had always spoken of. This was the connection.

"After all this time," Gill said, looking at a particularly large mural, depicting Godzilla - in all his glory - defending a city from what looked like MUTOs. "He never forgot."

"But we did." Serizawa responded.

As they passed through the sunken city, the ruins began to tell another story. It was slowly becoming clear that the city hadn't been peacefully abandoned. Nearly everything around them had been scarred, scorched, or blasted to pieces. The sea bottom itself bore the scars of some ancient cataclysm that had undoubtedly sent the city asunder. The last mural was of a familiar three-headed dragon, the wall cracked beyond repair. Seeing Ghidorah depicted on something so ancient sent a chill down Jodie's spine.

And with the wreckage, the murals of man and monster ended - but not because the artists had finished their story, but because their work had been wrecked beyond recognition. Whatever harmony had once existed in this place had been drowned in a single day of misfortune much like the mythical Atlantis. Had this even existed above, Jodie thought. Or was this all one big cave, once filled with air? Either way, who - or what - brought about its downfall was beyond her understanding. It very well could have been a war between titans fought with the aid of humans. If so, given the amount of giant bones, the end result didn't seem to have gone very well for either side.

Except, perhaps, Godzilla's.

"If the stones could only speak, the stories they could tell us." Stanton mused.

"Amen to that." Gill said, continuing to take photos.

"Dr. Stanton, any sign of Gojira?" Serizawa asked.

"Yeah, the probes are picking up a radioactive blob just past past that ridge." he said, pointing to the thermal screen.

"Set a course."

_____

Elena and the others pushed through the woods as fast as they could.

She kept imagining the Controller behind her, gun in hand, that same shock the Regulator had shot her with that first day surging through her whole body. Or maybe this time she wouldn't be stunned. Would she even feel it? Would everything just stop? She was determined not to find out, and she was determined even more so not to let Madison find out either.

After nearly an hour, they finally came across a winding two-lane road with hundreds of cars packed bumper to bumper. Through the windows, she could see people staring at them as they walked in the opposite direction, puzzled but not making any attempt to stop them. She couldn't blame them.

It wasn't long before the road passed into a suburban area where they could no longer see the skyline. The Regulator slowed.

"I suppose I should let you take the reins."

Madison nodded.

She knew Boston like the back of her hand, but it was more than a little eerie seeing all the empty houses. Every now and then they would see a family still packing up. At one point some people in an SUV stopped and offered them a ride, but once they learned they were going into the city, they shook their heads and moved on.

Then the road joined a bigger one, all bodegas, malls, office complexes, and finally an interstate that was just as bad - if not worse - than the road outside the city. It was practically at a standstill, and the drivers were definitely not happy about it. Elena could feel a headache coming on from the constant stream of honking and screaming, but what bothered her most were the people too frustrated to wait, weaving through cars and abandoning theirs altogether. It was like swimming upstream, and the ORCA was heavy. She could only imagine how much the backpack must weigh for Madison. She was already more than tired, and they still had a long way to go until they reached the ballpark.

Every now and then they would take turns carrying the loads, stopping to rest or eat or drink. But never for more than a few minutes.

At least Elena felt a little safer now that they entered the downtown area. The evacuation had already kicked into high gear, sirens wailing near and far. Jets tore through the skies, helicopters and Ospreys filled with military and civilians alike taking off in the distance. The odds of the Controller and his men finding them were significantly lower now, and she could only hope that Emma had kept her word.

By the time they got within sight of Fenway, the crowd had turned, no longer flowing out of the city but within the park. It was one of the evacuation hubs, complete with aircraft lifting hoards of people lifted off every other ten minutes or so. It seemed to be going well. A little too well, perhaps, but a small part of Elena thought maybe there was a chance they could survive.

No. They would. She would see to that. And with the ORCA in their hands, those chances were looking just a little higher.

But with all of the people pouring into Fenway, it was going to be a little trickier than they anticipated. Finding no other way in, they merged into one of the lines where people were being herded into the stadium by cops and soldiers like a bunch of sheep. Every few minutes the loudspeakers above reminded them all to remain calm, that the ships would be departing every fifteen minutes or so. A few places ahead of the line, a little girl was clinging her to her father. She looked terrified, tears streaming down her face as she saw the bustling stadium around her. Madison made a funny face, and the girl cheered a little and turned away. A small, hardly noticeable smile appeared on Elena's face.

Just a moment later, Elena saw their chance. No one official was looking, and the line had gotten as far into the stadium as they could go without reaching the helicopter waiting ahead. The trio sprinted across the field until they reached a door that lead to the broadcasting booth at the top of the stadium. But after jiggling it, she found it locked. She slammed a fist against the door.

"Damn it," she cursed.

Wordlessly, the Regulator nudged her back. Lifting her leg farther than she thought a human could reach, she kicked down like a hammer. Almost as soon as her heel connected with the lock, the door splintered from the impact, swinging open.

"After you."

Madison raised her eyebrows, trying to hide an impressed grin. As they slipped inside, there were stairs that lead to the booth. They had reached the easy part. Despite the massive crowds outside, in there, it was deserted. Madison looked down at her hand as it slid up the railing.

She wondered what her dad was doing, if he was still okay. She remembered coming here a few times with him, just the two of them. Neither her mom or Andrew were big baseball fans. And she had never cared that much about it herself, but she liked the atmosphere, sharing it with someone she cared about.

Please be okay, she thought.

He will be fine, young Speaker, the warm voice echoed. Just worry about yourself

That was going to be hard to do. There was so much to worry about that she could barely begin to comprehend it. And above it all, she hoped her mom was okay too, that the Controller didn't take out their escape on her. She knew there was a good chance he might. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it.

It took them a little longer to find the booth than she would've liked, but eventually they came to the door. This time, it was unlocked. Inside was a large table surrounded by dozens of tv screens and other broadcasting equipment. From there, they had a bird's eye view of the evacuation through the giant glass windows ahead of them. For a moment, she hung there, watching the events unfold. Behind her, Elena and the Regulator placed the ORCA on one of the tables, and they got to work.

Opening up the ORCA, they began hooking up cables to the stadium's speaker system, turning up the volume as high as it could go.

Looking away from the window, she found that whoever was here had left a screen on. Madison listened as the anchor droned on.

"Massive storms and other disasters triggered by the titans have forced millions to flee major cities. And with D.C. hit hard by a category six hurricane that has left the capitol completely flooded, this is the single greatest disaster in human history."

The news footage showed pure pandemonium. Dozens of tornadoes and waterspouts churned through the air and sea, sucking in everything they touched up into a sickly yellow sky. Madison could make out buildings in the distance, but it soon became obvious that only the tops of those buildings were visible, while others were completely submerged altogether. The summit of the Washington monument and the dome of the capitol building looked like they had been dropped in the middle of a lake. And all the while, lightning struck all around the area in thin golden bolts.

"It looks like the sky's alive.." Madison thought out loud.

Looking up at the screen, Elena shivered. "That's because it is."

Another chain of lightning flashed in the bruised clouds, and for an instant she swore she could see Ghidorah's demonic shadow.

"The grim search continues as people around the world sift through the debris of leveled homes in the hope of finding missing loved ones. And though this sight is heartbreaking, it is in no way unique. Cities around the globe have fallen under the wake of what many are calling 'The Rise of the Titans'."

The Regulator cleared her throat as the ORCA beeped to life, its screens flipping open.

"Should be ready for broadcasting. You know how to work it, yes?"

Madison nodded. She scrolled through a handful of signatures until she finally found one that looked familiar. Pulling up the bioacoustic waveform on the ORCA's main screen, the words 'Alpha Frequency Found' appeared beneath it.

Without hesitation, she hit the button.

Turning to Elena, the Regulator hooked up the headset to the ORCA, handing it to her in the same motion. She took it in her hands, turning it over with a contemplative look on her face before steeling herself and placing it on her head.

"Are you sure about this?" the Regulator asked.

Slowly, Elena nodded, closing her eyes as she entered the headspace.

_____

The sub continued to drift through the ghostly city at a steady pace. They were headed toward something large, far larger than any of the other buildings. At first Jodie thought it was a dead end, but as they drew nearer, she saw that it was a massive sculpture carved into a natural stone face. It was a doorway of sorts, but not on a human scale. A titanic one. Carved on either side of the structure's base were two huge three-clawed feet.

Through the chthonic doorway, lava cascaded along a tunnel that rose in a series of large steps, eventually forming a larger fall that poured into the river beneath them. At the far end of the tunnel, a faint but familiar blue glow lined the entrance into..somewhere.

"I think we should stop." Stanton said.

"Why?" Serizawa asked.

"Because I still wanna have kids one day." he said, tapping the top right corner of his screen. The geiger counter built into the drones flashed a dangerous red warning. "Preferably without flippers."

"Full stop. Hover the ship." the commander said.

The drones continued on without them, disappearing down into the tunnel as they all continued to watch their feed.

"Things are getting steamy." Stanton said. "Probes aren't gonna last long, but I'm picking up the big guy's radioactive signature up ahead. It's weak, but it's there."

He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when the feed from one of the probes ceased, quickly followed by another. The third pushed forward, and a moment later it finally entered the vast cavern.

"Okay, we got O2, CO2, and methane - looks like some sort of air pocket in there." Stanton said.

As the probe rose to the surface of the cavity, the red-orange glow became more intense. Illuminated by the falling lava, a vast temple complex was laid out before them. And although the video feed was already beginning to lose resolution from the radiation, they could see him clear as day. Godzilla, splayed out on the temple floor like a fallen deity in the heart of his own temple, lava breaching up from beneath him like ichor.

"Oh my god -" Mark breathed.

"- zilla." Stanton finished.

And with that the video cut out into nothing but static. "Aaand goodnight, Grace." Stanton let go of the probe's controls, leaning back into his chair.

"Pull up the last frame." Serizawa said.

He zoomed into the volcanic vents surrounding Godzilla. It stung Jodie's heart to see the still of the titanic lizard in such a state, a powerful being so beaten like that. Helpless.

"There," he said, pointing to the glow behind his scutes. "It's the source of the radiation."

"He's feeding. Regenerating." Graham mused.

"This is his home." Serizawa said.

The two shared a look of satisfaction. Serizawa turned away, taking his notebook out of his pocket and flipping through the pages while Graham continued to stare at the frame.

"That must be how he's been able to survive so long." Mark said. "Always adapting, evolving, it's incredible."

"Welp," Stanton said. "He doesn't really need our help, dude's got it covered, right? He just needs a nap."

"No," Chen interjected. "After San Francisco he was gone for nearly five years. After the Oxygen Destroyer, this process could take decades."

"We have to proceed as planned." Serizawa said firmly.

"Hang on," Stanton objected. "We're gonna launch a nuclear torpedo in order to revive a giant monster. That's not exactly like jump-starting a car."

"We have one more complication," the commander said. "Our weapons systems were damaged during the crash. We can't launch."

Jodie's heart sank. "Shouldn't you have mentioned this a little earlier?" she said.

The commander was at a loss for words.

"Can it be repaired?" Mark asked.

"I'm afraid not." he replied.

They had come all this way, followed Mothra, journeyed into the hollow earth and found Godzilla - all for nothing. But Graham wasn't discouraged.

"Could we attach one of the warheads to a probe? Set a timer so that it gives us enough time to clear the area before it detonates?" Graham said.

Stanton shook his head. "They wouldn't handle the weight. Besides, they'll barely make it past the cave entrance before the radiation eats it."

"Okay," Chen said, pacing. "So what if we go inside, set a timer, and detonate one of the warheads manually?"

"No way," Stanton said. "If the heat doesn't fry you the radiation will. It might be good for titans but walking in there would be like walking into Chernobyl."

The sub was silent. There were no other options, none that ended in either the death of Godzilla or the deaths of themselves. Jodie bit at a nail.

"I'll go." Serizawa said, breaking the silence.

Jodie almost thought she'd heard wrong.

"What the hell does that mean?" Mark asked incredulously.

"No, I'll go - Serizawa, you're too im -" Gill started before being quickly interrupted.

"What? No, what are you -?!" Jodie was silenced as Serizawa raised a hand.

He didn't speak, but his face said it all. He had skipped to the obvious conclusion: a life for a life. And he would be the one to take that leap. Once he made up his mind, there was almost no convincing him.

"There must be another way." Graham insisted.

"There's no time for a debate," he said. "I'll go."

_____

It's cute -

- That you think whatever trick you pulled can stop us.

We'd applaud your efforts, -

- But we're busy

Elena's jaw tightened, trying to push through the voices in her mind.

Don't feel so down, Speaker.

When we're finished, we'll leave you alive last

So that you may see our wonders in full swing.

It's going to be beautiful.

"He still talking to you?" Madison asked, startling her out of her daze.

She nodded. "He doesn't know about the ORCA. Yet. But even then he's suspicious...he thinks whatever we're doing won't work." she bristled, rubbing her arms of the sudden chill. "Let's hope we can prove him wrong."

"Look." the Regulator said after a beat, pointing to the screen.

For the past ten or so minutes they had been anxiously watching the new stream in from around the world for any sign of change. Now, it seemed, that the tables were finally turning. Madison smiled.

"It does appear as if the attacks have ceased for the time being, with the creatures going from destructive to docile within minutes. Now, no one is sure how or why but this seems to be happening simultaneously around the world."

The titans in the news footage didn't seem docile so much as they did completely dazed, if not confused. Like they had just been dropped in the middle of a city with no prior knowledge of waking up to begin with. The two conflicting alpha frequencies were scrambling their massive brains, and unable to decide who to follow, they couldn't act out at all.

Take that, you bastard, she thought with a satisfied grin.

Somewhere at the front of her mind, Ghidorah laughed. Elena would've rolled her eyes if only his signature cackle wasn't so unsettling.

This is only a minor setback.

They are dull, weak. This was to be expected.

But we will manage.

You just keep thinking that, asshole, she responded.

It's funny, really.

Seeing you try so hard.

It's amusing.

But also sad.

You can't stop a storm, -

- how could you stop us?

Nearly growling from frustration, Elena's eyes screwed shut. Why? What could you possibly gain from all this? A dead kingdom with no subjects?

There was a long, weighty pause after that. It frightened her, but she would rather die than admit that to him.

If you're so confident, Speaker, -

- Then maybe we should pay you a visit.

It's only polite.

Shit, Elena buried a sneer, throwing the headset onto the table in frustration.

Those self-absorbed bastards couldn't be reasoned with, that much she was sure of. But even with the titans incapacitated, it still didn't seem to sway them. She knew it was all far from over, but if the ORCA confused the titans long enough, Monarch would have a chance to do their thing. That is, if they even had a plan to begin with. Madison seemed faithful in their endeavors, and that faith was becoming increasingly infectious.

Meanwhile, on the field below, the crowd had thinned out to almost nothing. Another handful of airlifts and the evacuation would be complete. If anyone noticed the odd pulses coming from the stadium speakers, no one had come to check it out. But they weren't going anywhere. They couldn't keep the ORCA out of their sight, not now.

And even if they could leave, they didn't have anywhere to go.

_____

Captain Ford Brody helped Serizawa into the dive suit.

He had already prepped the bomb beforehand, laughing dismally at the irony of the situation. But now, as he helped prepare the doctor for what was assuredly a suicide mission, there was no sign of humor in him.

It was all happening too fast, Jodie felt like she was slipping down a slope that was now nearly vertical. There had to be some another way, it was just no one could think of anything during such a time crunch. That had to be it.

"We've removed the warhead's lead shielding and inserted a mechanical timer, so it can function in the radiation." Brody explained.

"On first contact you'll start losing your long-range vision." he said, quietly. "After you surface your motor skills will start to fade, but I added a heliox mixture to your tank. It should help keep you stable longer."

Serizawa nodded with an unreadable expression as he took in the specifics of his impending demise. The captain was trying to be precise, clinical. Jodie could see the sadness in his eyes just below the surface of professionalism.

"Once you get inside, you'll have about six minutes," he said. "Before the radiation -" he stopped himself, taking in an unsteady breath.

Jodie could feel her eyes well up with tears. Nearly losing Godzilla was one thing, but losing Serizawa? It was too much. Everyone could feel it. He was part of the very foundations of Monarch, and most of their lives. He was their heart.

Brody sent him off with a quick hug.

"It was an honor, man." Stanton said, reaching out and shaking Serizawa's hand.

Chen grabbed Serizawa in a hug, gripping him like she didn't want to let go. But she did, her arms pulling back slowly. Gill and Jodie both went in for a hug, and as they pulled away with soft pats on their backs, she could hear Gill sniffle just a bit. Mark shook his hand.

"Thank you," Serizawa said. "All of you."

He walked over to Graham, who was standing near the back of the crowd. She was trying not to let it all spill out, Jodie could tell. But as Serizawa pulled his notebook from his pocket, handing it to her, she sucked in a sharp sob.

"I couldn't." she said.

A wistful smile appeared along his face. Insisting, she grasped his notes with trembling hands.

"He fought for us. Almost died for us. He's not only proof that coexistence is possible, he is the key to it." his smile started to fade, but his eyes still held that solemn determination. "Take care of them, Vivienne."

She was fully sobbing as she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him like he was the last person on earth. He reciprocated the embrace, closing his eyes.

"Sensei, aishiteimasu." she whispered.

With that, he turned the airlock, climbing into the small sub. Giving a nod, the doors sealed and the water began to rise. Jodie and the others could do nothing but watch as he entered the fiery tunnel.

_____

Serizawa tried to control his breathing as he entered the tunnel, trying to steady the heart that wanted to jump out of his chest.

It was getting hot. The bottom of the sea had been cold, even through the walls of the sub he came from, but the river of lava flowing down from above was warming the tunnel and sub he was in now. If it got any hotter, he might not even survive long enough for the radiation to kill him.

He had to keep a calm mind.

He thought of the others - his colleagues, his friends, Vivienne - leaving them behind hurt him more than they would ever realize. But if he didn't do this, in due time there wouldn't be any of them at all.

If he turned back now they could easily turn tail and find a shelter, survive until they could come up with some other plan. But he couldn't let Godzilla die. Once Ghidorah destroyed every other threat to him in the world above, he would surely turn his attention elsewhere. With Godzilla weak, it wouldn't take much effort to finish him off. Then it wouldn't matter how well hidden the remnants of humanity were. The dragon would root them out, use his subjects to raise even more destruction. And when he was finished, even the ones that managed to escape his hunts wouldn't survive. And then, perhaps, he would then turn on the titans that followed him as well.

Godzilla was their only chance.

As he entered the tunnel, he found himself becoming distracted by its sheer magnificence. It was hard to imagine how it might have been built, but given its size, it had clearly been made for Godzilla. He wondered how many people had entered this temple. Had Godzilla even been present to see them? Did he even care? At its threshold and up its steps, the architects had carved enclosures that each held statues within them. Each represented strange creatures. Although the style was a little different, he recognized them as Sumerian in origin. The figures were spirits of protection and guidance. Some said they represented the natural order. Whoever built this place seemed to have hoped it would provide the titan solitude, a place safe from the fighting and bloodshed on the surface.

Serizawa found them comforting, encouraging even. Although they couldn't protect him, he could use all the guidance they could offer.

Sweat was pouring from him now, the interior of the sub was unbearable but it wasn't enough to kill him. Not yet.

As he passed the last of the stone guardians, he knew he was past the point of no return. He could already feel his skin buzzing from the radiation, and he knew if he turned back now he would only spend the rest of his shortened life in pain. He had seen people succumb to radiation poisoning. It was no way to die.

As he approached the foot of the long stretch of steps in the temple, the light ahead grew brighter, almost like a sunrise. He was doing the right thing, he could feel it. But he was still human, and that part of him was terrified.

The sub broke the surface of the water at last, and as he surfaced it sparked and sputtered, dying at the shore of the cavern. As he climbed out, bones aching, he found himself surrounded by majesty. The drone's video had not done this place - the palace of a god - justice. Never in his life had he seen something quite like this, and he knew that not many people would. He allowed himself a moment, paralyzed with wonder, letting his eyes drink it all in before his sight would start to fail him. Looking at all of it surrounding him, Serizawa felt small. But in that single moment - the disorientation, the nausea, the pain - all of it disappeared, and his head was right.

He continued on, and as he walked he found that part of the cavern seemed to be natural, but the handprint of humanity was everywhere. Sacred carvings, glyph-covered monoliths, temples, statues - the prototype of civilization all laid out before him. It was fitting, this amalgamation of man and nature, as fitting as the relationship it signified between man and...

Godzilla lay upon a stone platform in the heart of the temple, at the top of a very long, very broad staircase. Rivers of molten lava sprayed up around him, some falling behind him in massive flows. The glow almost gave him an ethereal look.

Taking the first step on that staircase, Serizawa felt the presence of hallowed ground, that sense of being a part of something far bigger than you could comprehend. So many years of his life had been spent searching for him, from carrying on his father's work to finding his own place in the world. And over the years, he had come to understand more and more about Godzilla's irreplaceable purpose, and his own. A purpose he was fulfilling now. Looking up at the staircase, at the pulsing light that shrouded it in a ghostly veil, it felt like ascending to the afterlife.

And Serizawa found that he was no longer afraid to die.

Carrying the bomb in its case, he started up the stairs. He had only managed to take a handful of steps and already he was beginning to feel his limbs tremble, his vision blurring. Putting one foot in front of the other had become a herculean task. Feeling the darkness closing around his sight, the bomb feeling heavier in his arms, he took a deep breath. He had to keep a calm mind, and in the back of his mind, he remembered an old Babylonian poem.

Goodbye old friend. Your peaceful breath slows, Your eyes gaze upon your world. I offer to you My strength.

The lava splashed to the bottom of the cave, and in the encroaching distance Godzilla's scutes broke the flow of the light below.

Goodbye old friend. My hand reaches forth, Striving for divinity. I offer to you My love.

His breathing was getting heavier as the radiation permeated the suit. He stumbled for a moment, tripping over his own feet before getting back up.

Goodbye old friend. At the steps of your kingdom, We become one. I offer to you My life.

When he reached the summit, he did not realize it at first. But then his eyes focused, and he saw Godzilla only a few steps ahead of him. His lungs were burning, and the steam that wafted from the lava was suffocating. With a puff of air from the titan's nostrils, the steam cleared.

Serizawa knelt down, setting the case on the platform and opening the timer. With shaking fingers, he started it. Twenty seconds was all the time he needed.

Feeling around one of the suit's pockets, he took out his pocket watch, looking at it one last time, remembering his father. Suddenly, a vast groan of pain shook the chamber. Serizawa could hardly stand again, but he fought against the ache that covered his body. Using the last of his strength, he removed his helmet.

The air was thick and harsh with burnt stone and water vapor, it was nearly too much, but that was okay.

Up close, Godzilla's wounds were terrible, spanning almost his entire body. His dorsal spines were barely flickering with his signature blue light, but he would heal. And he would fight once again, bringing balance.

Serizawa could barely breathe now, as the slightest movement he took was agony. But looking at Godzilla, he felt some of that strength return. And the titan looked back. He couldn't feel himself move, but Godzilla's form was coming closer to him. Call it a hallucination, call it projecting - call it whatever you like - but as Serizawa came within inches of the titan, there was something intelligent in those eyes. Something so startlingly human. Recognition. Empathy. Heartache.

He stripped off one of his gloves, skin stinging from the contact, and laid a hand on Godzilla's scales.

"Saraba, tomo yo." Serizawa closed his eyes.

And then there was light.

#godzilla #king of the monsters #godzilla king of the monsters #kotm #godzilla fanfic #leviathanfic

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Walking Dead Season 11: Who Lives and Who Dies

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Walking Dead article contains major spoilers.

Keep track of all The Walking Dead season 11 deaths below:

Pope (Ritchie Coster)

Prediction: Dies

Pamela Milton (Laila Robins)

Prediction: Dies

Lance Hornsby (Josh Hamilton)

Prediction: Dies

Mercer (Michael James Shaw)

Prediction: Lives

Virgil (Kevin Carroll)

Prediction: Dies

Connie (Lauren Ridloff)

Prediction: Lives

Lydia (Cassady McClincy)

Prediction: Lives

Magna (Nadia Hilker)

Prediction: Dies

Yumiko (Eleanor Matsuura)

Prediction: Lives

Luke (Dan Fogler)

Prediction: Dies

Kelly (Angel Theory)

Prediction: Lives

Kelly has been one of the best late additions to the show. It would suck for her to finally reunite with her sister only to meet an unexpected end.

Alden (Callan McAuliffe)

Prediction: Dies

Another candidate for the chopping block. I’m surprised he’s even made it this long.

King Ezekiel (Khary Payton)

Prediction: Lives

Jerry (Cooper Andrews)

Prediction: Dies

I love Jerry and don’t want to see the tank with a heart of gold go. But if the season needs an early death that pulls at the heart strings, Jerry is a prime candidate for a midseason casualty.

Father Gabriel Stokes (Seth Gilliam)

Prediction: Lives

Aaron (Ross Marquand)

Prediction: Lives

Rosita Espinosa (Christian Serratos)

Prediction: Lives

Eugene Porter (Josh McDermitt)

Prediction: Lives

Judith Grimes (Cailey Fleming)

Prediction: Lives

Result: Lived

NO.

Rick Grimes Jr. (Antony Azor)

Prediction: Lives

Nah.

Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan)

Prediction: Lives

Carol Peletier (Melissa McBride)

Prediction: Lives

This one’s an easy one: Melissa McBride is getting her own spinoff that will follow her character after The Walking Dead series finale. That means she’s safe.

Daryl Dixon (Norman Reedus)

Prediction: Lives

Norman Reedus is joining McBride for that spinoff, so he’s safe, too. The actor even told us what the Daryl and Carol show will be about.

Maggie Rhee (Lauren Cohan)

Prediction: Dies

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Let us know your predictions for The Walking Dead season 11 in the comments!

The post The Walking Dead Season 11: Who Lives and Who Dies appeared first on Den of Geek.

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killiancygnus · 8 years ago

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Serendipitous Melody 17/?

Summary: Everyone has dreams. You might dream of becoming an astronaut or teacher, or you might want to become a doctor and save as many lives you can. Emma Swan’s childhood dream was being a singer. But with life getting in the way and never finding the courage to overcome her fears, she never had a chance to follow it. That is until a little push from her friends lead her to cash on an opportunity; and, who knows, she might even get more than what she’d wished for.

Rated: T

Word count: ~6.8k

A/N: I have started uni back again so I don’t know how much it’ll take me to finish the next chapter, but for now here it is a nice and very long update.

Thanks to the wonderful @the-reason-to-sail-home for her mad betaing skills and to @mahstatins for being always so lovely and listening to my rants when I freak out.

Tagging some friends: @villains-happy-ending , @stardusted-nymph, @allisonchameron, @kmomof4, @hencethebravery, @katie-dub, @captainwiley , @irishswanff, @thejollypirate, @dassala , @imhookedonaswan, @ofshipsandswans , @legendofthephoenixcs and @londonsbridge

If you want to be tagged too let me know :)

Links: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9- Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 / AO3

It took a week to film the video and only a couple more of post-production work before it could be ready to be shown to the world. The song got released a few days later without any kind of announcement. However, the publicity the show gave them and Killian’s dedicated fans, made it reach the top of all the charts in less than a day and the video became soon viral.

Overall, it had been a massive success. They would hear their song on the radio, in shops and even on television. It was a bit overwhelming honestly, for Emma for starters, but for him too. After its release, going out without being recognised and eventually finding pictures the following day everywhere on the internet, became almost impossible, as they found out. When Ruby had asked Emma if she remembered to get wine for their girls night, only moments after she got back home at Killian’s from the store, it became pretty clear that they now were the news of the moment.

In this new scenario, going on dates while keeping a low profile became even more challenging than it already was. At least they could spend time together every day, at home.

Their home.

He had asked her to officially move in with him only a few days after the release, during a nice night out camping in the woods. They had gone for a hike, backpacks on their shoulders as they walked in the woods hand in hand, enjoying not having to be conscious of every touch and look. It was liberating. Away from journalists, fans and paparazzi for a couple of days in which they could finally be together outside of home’s walls, and take a breath from the madness that now surrounded them.

They had placed the tent in a little nook not far away from a stream, hoping that fellow campers wouldn’t settle near them.

Killian had built a fire, or, at least, he’d tried his best. Apparently the life of a multi-platinum record selling music star didn’t lend itself to too many outdoor pursuits, since it took him a half hour of furiously rubbing sticks together, his hair flopping into his face, before Emma was forced to stop him with a hand on his wrist. She was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but tried to keep her voice gentle.

“You want to try a lighter?”

Killian huffed and sat back on his heels. “Hang on,” he grumbled.

He disappeared into the tent before emerging with a single large blanket that he wrapped around Emma’s shoulders before tucking himself against her side. He was quiet, his expression tight, almost nervous.

Emma elbowed him gently. “It’s not a big deal, you know.”

“What isn’t?” He asked with a frown, probably sounding as lost as he really was.

“Lighting a fire. We’re not like… cave people.”

Killian laughed shortly. “No, I suppose not.”

“You don’t need to, I don’t know, go hunt me a boar or anything.”

“That’s very comforting to a man’s ego, Swan. Thank you.”

She sighed and lay her head on his shoulder. She felt him relax almost immediately.

“I do, uh, I do have another suggestion though. As to how I might… that is… not that you need looking after - but - I thought - maybe...”

Emma sat up just enough to see the blush rising up his neck and turning the tips of his ears to a deep shade of red.

“You’ve a real talent with words, Jones.”

“Move in with me?”

“What?”

Killian rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on their unlit fire.

“Unless - if you don’t want to that’s fine and I understand, but I’d like - I’d like it to be you and me, Swan. Just us against the world. That is, if you’ll have me?”

Speechless and caught off guard, she pulled him in by his jacket’s lapels and kissed him thoroughly.

“Is that a yes?” he managed as she drew back to catch her breath. Her answering laughter echoed through the forest before he guided her inside the tent to celebrate more thoroughly.

The nomination for the MTV Video Music Awards was a nice - well, more than nice - surprise that came about a week later. They were still slowly moving her stuff from her apartment to his - no, their - home, and now the very first song she had ever publicated was on the nominee’s list of one of the most important awards out there.

It was too much. She had tried not to think much of it and focused on the first important step of moving in with Killian. After all, even though he had all the talent in the world and he was an acclaimed artist already, what were the chances that they would actually win one of those shiny statuettes? They were nominated for more than one category, so yeah they would definitely be higher for them to get at least one, but that was not the point. It wasn’t like she didn’t think their song could win, she just didn’t want to get her hopes up. That way she wouldn’t be disappointed if (when) they didn’t win.

Her friends thought she was crazy at caring so little for what could be a huge step for her career, but Killian, of course, didn’t. He seemed to get that, deep down, she was truly just scared shitless of it and of what it would entail for the immediate future. In the days following the nomination, he always tried to direct the conversation somewhere else when in public, blaming superstition, and to bring up the topic only if necessary when at home. He even convinced their friends to not organise any party or anything as such to celebrate her birthday and the nominations before the ceremony, as she had asked them more than once. She loved him for that.

Being her birthday only a couple of days before the red carpet, they decided to stay in and enjoy a quiet night together. He had made her dinner, put on some romantic music and bought some fancy wine for the night. He had even scattered candles around their bedroom, where he much later proceeded to show her exactly how much he loved her.

God, she could still feel her skin blush at the memory.

“Is everything alright, love?” Killian asked her, bringing her back to reality.

Startled, Emma lifted her gaze up, noticing he was handing her hot chocolate mug out for her to take, and he probably had for for a while. Blushing deeper, she took the mug and looked sheepishly at him as she sat on the couch. “Yeah, I was just thinking about the other night.”

“Hmm,” Killian hummed as he casually sipped on his coffee, playing dumb, “Which night? You have to be more precise. There was the one in the woods, the one in the pool and the other by the fire, the one -”

“The night of my birthday,” she interrupted him, noticing with a side glance that he was smirking.

“Ooh, that night!”

Emma rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes, that night.”

Killian’s smirk grew wider. “And what exactly were you thinking about that night?” He asked, the tip of his tongue poking out just a little from his mouth to wet his lips, “Please, tell me.”

After studying him for a few moments, Emma put her mug down on the table in front of her. “I was just thinking of how we could recreate it with our roles inverted,” she shrugged, watching his expression change as he imagined all the things she could do to him with her tongue. Pupils dilated, jaw set, tongue licking his lips once more: bingo. “Too bad that the guys will be here soon to get us ready for tonight and that my boyfriend is being a bit of jerk this morning,” she added, bringing the mug back to her lips as she waited for his reaction.

Three… Two… One…

“No Emma, wait! I’m sorry.”

And here it is, she thought, as she kept her eyes on her drink, suppressing a grin.

“Come on, love,” he pleaded, giving her his best set of puppy eyes as he put his mug down before moving closer to shower her collarbone with kisses, “We still have plenty of time.”

Damn him. She hadn’t considered the puppy eyes. He bloody well knew she couldn’t resist them, and now her plan to make him beg for it was shattered. Not that she was upset with the result, mind you.

It was exactly a couple of hours later that, now happy, sated and showered, they let the small group of stylists and makeup artists in. Emma had barely the time to say “hello” that she was dragged upstairs and locked in one of the many guest rooms. First, she had to choose the outfit for the night among the few dresses Anton, her stylist for that night, had brought, by trying them all on.She let him handle choosing which her the accessories would look best. It was like going back to the time when for the show she had to attend dress fittings weekly, with the exception that this time, each one of the dresses sprawled on the bed was definitely worth much more than her old apartment’s rent. And she didn’t even want to think how much all those beautiful shoes and clutches and jewels would cost too. Never in her life had she thought that before her thirties she would be living with her internationally famous boyfriend in his villa, having their first single together blasting on radios, having thousands of fans following her social media accounts and being about to attend her first red carpet.

Her life had become truly crazy.

After picking a stunning off the shoulder, long red dress with a tear on the gown that she was sure would make Killian’s head spin, Ashley, the same girl from Enchanted’s makeup team, sat Emma down on a chair and started working on her hair, as she chatted cheerfully with her and Anton. As she combed Emma’s hair in a complicated braid crown updo, Anton cracked some jokes and swore he would watch the red carpet that night only to see Killian drooling over her and tease him next time. She had to admit that for how eccentric he looked with his brown curls arranged in odd haircut she couldn’t really describe and beige silk shirt with a patterned foulard around its collar, he was an amazingly funny guy.

Once her hair was done, the focus of her stylists switched to painting her nails and doing her makeup. They kept it simple: burgundy nail polish to contrast with the white sandals and clutch, and one of those natural looks for her face that was impossible to master.

After putting on dress, heels and a pair of diamond earrings and rings (and almost four hours of pampering), she was deemed ready and free to join Killian downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, Emma slowly descended the stairs. One hand firmly holding the banister, the other keeping away from her eyes the few curly stands that were left out of the braid, Emma looked at her feet for the most part of the flight, scared to trip on those stupidly high heels and fall. It was only when there were a few steps left that she looked up. Killian was standing right in front of her at the bottom of the stairs, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. He took her in, from toes to hair and then down again, his eyes zeroing in on the glimpse of her leg through the fabric as the tip of his tongue poked out from his mouth to wet his lower lip.

Emma giggled. Yep, Killian was fuckstruck for good. Actually, she could very much relate because that navy blue tux, white shirt with the collar slightly left unbuttoned to show just a bit of his chest and I’ve-just-got-out-of-bed tousled hair? That was sexy as hell. Possibly barely legal.

“Emma,” he stuttered a little, taking her hand away from the banister to help her down the last steps himself, “You are… Stunning.”

As her cheeks grew pink, a wide grin appeared on Emma’s lips. “Thank you. You don’t look half bad either.”

“Half bad? Love, I am bloody handsome,” he scoffed with a smirk as Emma laughed at his affronted frown.

“That you are,” she assured him, fixing the white handkerchief poking out from his jacket’s pocket.

Putting his hands on her hips, he leaned in to give her a quick kiss when Leroy’s loud voice and the honking of a car horn startled them.

“Lovebirds, will you get a move? We don’t have all day!”

With a sigh Emma let her head fall on his chest as he huffed in annoyance. “Better get in the car, love,” he said, leaving a kiss on the top of her head.

“Yeah. For how amusing it might be, I really don’t want to make him grumpier than he already is tonight,” she said, looking up at him before taking his hand and head outside.

By the time they got there, Leroy was already in the car. “Finally!” He shouted from the open window as he nervously drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Miss Mills will have my head if you guys are late.”

Killian gave Emma an exasperated look and rushed to the back of the car where he held the door open for her to get in before following her. “And if you don't drive already then we certainly will, mate,” he grumbled.

“I know, I know,” Leroy said, starting the car and turning in his seat to face them, “Just one more thing: no -”

“No smooching allowed in the back seats. Yes, we remember,” Emma interrupted him.

Leroy just stared at them with a wide - quite creepy if she were honest - grin on his face. “Great. And you better not forget it,” he added, driving down the path to the gate.

The drive to the venue was pretty fast, or at least, that's how to Emma it felt like. However, waiting for their turn to step on the red carpet was nerve-wracking. Killian, who was sitting next to her, seemed unfazed, but whether he really was or he was just pretending to be for her sake, she couldn't tell. She, instead, by hearing the screaming of the fans over the buzzing of journalists and guests and the clicking of the photographers’ cameras going off, was all jittery. God, she was so nervous she felt like her heart could burst out of her chest at any time. As Leroy, once been given the okay from the staff, started the car again to bring them up to the red carpet and the theatre’s entrance, she gave Killian a shaky smile before turning around to look from the window.

“A little liquid courage?” Killian asked, shaking a small silvery flask and making her jump on her seat.

Emma watched him with wide eyes. “I…,” she stuttered, opening her mouth once or twice as he took a gulp of the rum that she thought was in the flask before she could form any sound. “Did you bring a flask of rum with you? What are you a pirate?”

Killian looked at her with a pointed look as he rose his left eyebrow.

“Fine,” Emma rolled her eyes at the ceiling, ”Do you think it’s wise, though? To drink before this… Thing? I really wouldn’t want to embarrass myself on national television in front of the press and so many celebrities.”

“And you won’t,” he promised her, tucking her in by his side and leaving a small peck on her lips. Completely ignoring Leroy’s icy glance in the rear-view mirror, he continued as he drew circles on her cheek with his thumb to soothe her, “I’m not saying to get drunk, love. Just to take a sip to loosen your nerves.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “I’m not -”

“Yes, you are, Emma. You are trembling.”

Breathing out a sigh in defeat, Emma accepted the tiny flask and took a sip of rum, enjoying the warm burn that it left behind just while their car came to a halt right in front of the red carpet. The screams of the fans were possibly even louder than before.

“Are you ready?”

Wincing, Emma shook her head slowly, the outside noises growing louder and louder in her head as her anxiety grew. She hated being at the centre of attention. It had always felt too much: too many people staring at her, too many expectations, too many hushed words and giggles whispered in people’s ears that she consciously knew they couldn’t be about her but that her mind liked to think they actually were. It was different on stage. There, with the lights in her eyes and the music in her ears, she couldn’t either see the audience nor hear them whispering behind her back. There, back when they were filming Enchanted, she knew that if for whichever reason she got nervous, she could freely glance at Killian’s blue, calming eyes without fearing of people gossiping about every little look or touch they exchanged.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he comforted her softly, his touch on her arm gentle, “I’ll be beside you the whole night. We are in this together remember?”

Smiling softly at his words, she nodded. What she did to deserve such a wonderful man, she had no idea, but whatever it was it must have been good. “I love you,” she told him after taking a deep breath, moments before he would open the door.

“I love you too,” Killian turned around and said, kissing her forehead briefly. “Shall we go?”

When Emma gave him a nod, Killian opened the door, cueing the start of more flashes going off as he helped her get off the car after him. All the pictures and videos Emma had seen in her life faded in comparison to the splendour and madness of the real thing. Fans began screaming their lungs out as soon as they stepped off the car, and they pretty much continued for the fifteen-ish minutes in which, sided by several security guards, they signed autographs and took selfies with them. That was easy, it was still a bit mind blowing - and she guessed it’d always be, at least to some extent - thinking there were people that wanted a picture with her or her to sign pamphlets or posters or basically anything they had at hand, but she was slowly getting used to it. After all, all she had to do was smile, exchange a few words with a stranger and scribble her name somewhere.

The hard part came later.

When their time with the fans ran out, they were escorted further on on the red carpet where most of the photographers were amassed and taking the last few pictures of one of those brand new boy bands in front of a set of huge billboards. Killian must have noticed her tensing up beside him as they walked because he reached for her hand and leaned closer to her to whisper, “Relax, love. All we have to do is smile, show how hot we are this evening and look like we are having the time of our life.”

“And how do we do that?” Emma whispered back as she gripped her teeth in an awkward grin.

“We just smile and pose, trying to look as natural as possible. Then, when we’ll be asked to take pictures together, just follow my lead.”

Taking a deep breath, Emma stepped in front of the photographers, putting a hand on her hips and hoping her smile wouldn’t look as forced as it actually was. With her now former job she had to practice her acting skills, pretending every time to be a different person to catch a prep. She was amazing at tricking that scum into thinking she wasn’t after him, true. She wasn’t that good of an actress, though, to fake nonchalance in front of mad-looking persons, screaming her name left and right as the flashes of their cameras almost made her go blind. After a few interminable minutes, Emma turned around a bit and glanced with the corner of her eyes at Killian, standing a couple of feet from her. Noticing she was looking at him, his eyes found hers, giving her an encouraging nod and a smile. That was all she needed to bring her attention back to the photographers.

It was a couple more minutes later that, as she was giving Killian her back, she felt two firm hands placing on her hips, making her jump. She was ready to turn around and knock the man out by jerking her knee up against his groin, when she heard Killian’s low voice right by her ear. “You are doing wonderfully, love.”

“Killian!” Emma squealed, turning quickly around in his hand to face him before pushing at his chest to get him off her. “You scared the shit out of me! I was about to drop kick you,” she said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he said as he stretched his arm to bring her against him once again, his hand landing gently on her side, “But you are more relaxed now, aren’t you?”

Point taken.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of Killian being a dork or just because he was now by her side to face the photographers, but the second part of that nightmare went much smoothly and much quicker than it did before.

It didn’t take long before they were left free to stroll down the red carpet. Now that she was much more relaxed, she had to admit that the atmosphere was amazing. Celebrities were passing by them, people she had only ever seen on the screen of her phone sometimes stopping to greet Killian and to meet her; fans were endlessly cheering for their favourite stars; journalists were interviewing nominees and guests by the sides. They were only stopped a couple of times as they walked to get some more pictures together, but, truth be told, they didn’t get much walking done (and her feet were more than happy for that not so insignificant aspect of the evening). In fact, they spent most of the time being interviewed.

Talking with journalists wasn’t that hard, as she had found in the past months. Most of the time they knew how to make you comfortable and when not to push too much on a certain subject. She had also gotten used to the practice in deflection one had to do every single time for one reason or another by then, so she was pretty confident when the time for their first interview came. And even more for the second, and the third, and the next after that. However, after being asked the very same questions in five interviews (well, five... She’d lost count after the fifth so they might even be more than that), Emma was beyond bored as they approached another journalist.

“James! Long time no see, mate,” Killian said, reverting back in a mild version of that Irish accent of his that made Emma shiver and her knees buckle every single time.

Surprisingly to Emma, who had thought he was greeting another singer, the short scruffy man with a pair of big glasses on his nose holding a mic ready to interview them exclaimed, before hugging Killian briefly, “Killian Jones!”

Emma frowned in confusion. She honestly had so many questions she didn’t even know where to start.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” James said, moving to the side so he wouldn’t be bothering the cameraman in front of her and Killian too much. “I was hoping you would introduce me to the lovely Miss Swan.”

Killian pouted making Emma chuckle. “Oh, I see how it is.”

“Emma, please,” she said in between giggles.

“I’m sorry, man, but she is stunning. And talented too as far as I’ve heard.”

“That is a very true statement,” Killian agreed as he took her into his side, making her blush.

Looking at the camera James “aaww”ed at the scene and then continued with the interview. “Well, your song, ‘Like Fire’, is everywhere - no really, most days it almost feels like it follows you around,” he added when Killian opened his mouth to try brush off the compliment, while Emma was sure he was actually itching to scratch the spot behind his ear, “It would have been hard for me and everyone else not to notice how great you two sound together.”

“What can I say, we make quite the team, James,” Killian replied, hiding his embarrassment at the compliments under a mask of cheekiness.

“Hmm… Do you?” he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief, making Emma freeze on the spot, “What do you say to play a little game to prove it?”

And there it was. She saw that coming, she really did. However, even though a part of her was excited to finally get to do something different and fun, another much louder part of her was instead dreading it and screaming in her head. What if he asked them about something personal? They still hadn't come out as a couple out of fear of the conclusions of favouritism most people and press would draw. What if they would expose themselves thanks to a stupid game? Emma glanced at Killian and noticed that even though he looked more relaxed than her, he wasn't thrilled by it.

“Don't look so scared,” James reassured them, “It’s just an innocent game to see how well you know each other. All you'll have to do is saying who between you two is more likely to do the list of things I'll read out to you.”

Deciding that he was telling the truth, Emma nudged Killian and told him, finally getting in the conversation, “What do you say? Shall we play?”

“Of course, love. You know I never back away from a challenge.”

Turning back at the camera Emma and Killian gave two matching playful grins at it before Emma said, “Go on then, James. Shoot!”

“That’s the spirit guys! So, let’s begin,” he announced turning serious all of a sudden. “Who is most likely to break into song while working?”

They both replied at once, Emma giving him a quick amused glance before saying, “Killian,” as Killian blushed and admitted, “Me.”

James laughed and the continued, “Who is most likely to throw someone a punch?”

“Me, but only if they deserve it.” “Oh, definitely Emma.”

“Really?” James asked, his eyebrows so high up on his forehead that they looked about to fall off his face.

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sound petty, “I’ll have you know, I was a bail bonds person until a few weeks ago. How to knock someone out is not something one forgets in that little time.”

“Careful, mate. You really wouldn’t want to cross her, trust me. This one throws one hell of a left hook,” Killian warned James, pointing at Emma who smiled innocently.

“And I take your word for it. Now, I fear I might already know the answer to this one, but who is most likely to eat all the food?”

Emma and Killian exchanged a look and small secretive smile. “Killian,” she said just as he pronounced her name, both turning towards the camera.

Emma glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Wait what?”

“You ate the entire carton of the ice cream just the other night,” Killian pointed out.

“And you ate all the popcorn!” She fired back, staring at him hard, but not enough to make his gaze waver.

“Wow! I feel like I should get some popcorn for this,” James interrupted them, making them stop eye-murdering each other.

Really? That was lame, Emma thought, trying not to roll her eyes, And there I thought he was funny for a minute.

“To be honest I am surprised; I thought we would all agree that it would have been Killian but…” James trailed off, gesturing at the both of them with the mic, “Anyways, last question: who is most likely to be the best dancer? Or who is the better dancer, if you have already seen each other’s moves.”

Emma hummed, searching Killian’s eyes for an answer, but she soon stopped to when she saw a twinkle of mischief in them as a smirk formed on his lips. Yep, Mr Innuendo had joined the interview.

“I’m sorry but I can’t answer that. It depends on the dance, you see?” Killian wiggled his eyebrows, looking proud of his joke.

Ding ding ding! A hundred points to Emma, a voice deadpanned in her head as she gave him another dirty look. Looking up at his smug face, she landed a loud smack on his arm and exclaimed, hoping he would hear the warning in her voice, “Killian!”

James, on the other hand, chuckled at the scene. “Well, with that we must bid you farewell, but judging from your answers we can tell you that you two will go very far.”

After saying James goodbye, they finally started walking to get inside the theatre, their press duties being done and accounted for.

As they walked, Killian leaned in to whisper in her ear, noticing how tense she had become after the interview, “You are not angry, aren’t you?”

Well, that was a good question. Was she actually? Probably no. Or rather, definitely not with him for being his flirty self. But was she scared shitless of what would happen if their relationship would be seen by what it actually was to the public eye? Hell yes. It was too soon after the end of Enchanted; people would surely question her right to be both to the final and with a musical career already in front of her.

“No, I’m not. But let’s try harder not to look too couple-y from now on,” she whispered back, “We wanted to be the ones to tell people of our relationship in our terms and not having them speculating and gossiping about us, remember? At least not too much of course.”

“As you wish,” he said, making her smile once again, “But Swan? I doubt that will explode on us after just a few pictures and interviews. And if by any chance it does, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

Dammit, how could this man always say what exactly she needed to hear? Normally she would have kissed him - hell she was itching to kiss him -, but even though in the theatre foyer there were fewer people than there were outside, there were no chances at all she could sneak a kiss without them being noticed. So, instead, she just nodded, letting her eyes meet his, and repeated, “Together.”

They stared at each other for a few moments until a voice made them jump apart. “Emma! Killian!” Belle called as she approached them, her bright blue dress flowing behind her as she balanced on impressively high heels, “I’ve been looking for you for ages, but every time I spotted you, you would disappear and get held by the press’ claws.”

“Belle,” Emma said, giving their friend a hug. After working with her on the show, she had tagged along with Tink and the others whenever they would organise some sort of meet up and she had quickly become one of their best friends. She had even met David, Mary Margaret and finally Ruby, with which she seemed to get along wonderfully, the two of them soon creating a weird and improbable but solid friendship. Letting Belle go get a hug from Killian too, Emma asked, “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell us you had been invited?”

“I’m here to present a category,” she replied quickly before freeing herself from Killian’s strong arms, her words muffled against his clothes. Then, facing them both she continued, “I know, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. But it was a last minute thing, you know? And I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you certainly did, lass,” Killian smirked, taking a look at her outfit and making her laugh.

“That’s his way to say he’s happy I am here, isn’t it?” She asked at Emma who chuckled and nodded at her, both of them ignoring the pouting man next to them.

They didn’t have the chance to talk much more than that though, that they were asked to find and take their seats. The arena was already packed with people and it was bubbling with excitement when they entered. So, by the time they managed to take a seat, in between mingling and wondering around, the lights started to dim leaving the room illuminated by just the powerful, coloured spotlights over the stage as the show started.

Emma had tried to watch this kind of things on TV over the years but she had always found herself get bored to death and switching to Netflix after very little. All she wanted was to know who won what. She didn’t really care about all the live music and speeches and guests. She had hoped that being actually there, sitting in those comfy chairs, would have made her enjoy the show much more, but apparently, that wasn’t the case. Less than an hour in, and she had already started to wish they were both home and in their bed. Three hours in and she had already counted how many lights, big and small, there were on the stage.

They hadn’t won Video of the Year but then Belle had come on stage to announce the nominees for Best Pop Single and really, they should have understood that she was there for a reason.

“Good evening everyone!” She had announced, getting a very loud reaction from the audience. “Here's the list of this year's nominees for Best Pop Single: first -”

Emma’s mind had tuned out then, nervous all of a sudden. She had fooled anyone (except Killian, of course) into thinking that she was crazy and didn't care about winning or losing, and she had been so good at it that she had basically managed to trick herself into it. However, the tornado of butterflies in her stomach were telling another tale altogether.

Seeing how tense she got, Killian reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze before giving him a reassuring smile. Like a nice cup of hot chocolate on a chilly, winter night, that did the trick and Emma felt herself relax.

“- and last but not least, Killian Jones featuring Emma Swan in Like Fire,” Belle concluded, cueing the cameras finding them in the crowd of celebrities and a few seconds of their song blasting from the speakers. “And the award goes to…”

Silence fell in the theatre. The only thing Emma could hear was the quick thuds of her heart. She even barely registered the way Killian’s hand began squeezing hers.

As if she were underwater, Belle’s words once she spoke again sounded muffled to her. “Like Fire by -”

As their names got lost in the cheers that erupted all around them, they jumped off their seat, Killian embracing her tightly in his arms after blowing a quick kiss on her forehead. As she sat back down, he sprinted onstage, hugging Belle and taking the award as he muttered her something indistinguishable at which she just smiled and shrugged.

“Ehm...wow. I, uh -” he stammered, looking down at the golden statuette in his hands. “You'd think I'm used to this, but truth is one never really does. Anyway, I must thank a bunch of people if you don't mind: my manager, Regina Mills, August Booth, for directing the perfect video and, of course, Emma,” he said, his eyes finding hers. “She is brilliant. One of the most - if not the most - lovely and amazing person I've ever got the chance to meet. Her talent can only be overcome by how much of a great friend she is. I know you tend to second guess yourself, Emma, were I have to do it again I'd press that button a hundred times.”

Under his gaze, Emma had actually felt herself tear up a little. He had always been the one good with words (when he wanted).

It was after he got off stage, that Emma snuck backstage and, after finding a dark and hidden nook, she kissed him senseless. If Belle noticed the way his hair were sticking everywhere more than usual moments before they went on stage to sing, she didn't say.

They woke up the following morning with their limbs tangled in the sheets, Regina’s voice coming from Killian’s phone shouting at them to get their ass at hers for celebratory and late birthday brunch, thousands of mentions on Twitter and a ship name. Apparently, according to Regina, their mentions, follower numbers and accounts views had skyrocketed during the night after that a bunch of people began suspecting they were together and had started the “Captain Swan” tag.

As soon as Killian ended the call, Emma trailed kisses down his torso, which had been functioning as a pillow since then, and asked, in between kisses, “Do we really have to go?”

“Afraid so,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the tingling burn that would spread on his skin at every touch of her lips. Then, placing his hand on her side, he pinned her down against the mattress in a matter of seconds. While he softly kissed her surprised giggle away, he let his body flush against hers. “I’d love to spend the day in bed with you,” he said once they came up for air, “But I fear Regina might get in here herself and drag us out of the sheets if we don’t show up.”

Emma sighed in disappointment. It was not fair, especially after he had kissed her like that. Bastard. “What about the rumours?” She finally asked, “Shouldn’t we do something?”

“No. These things always happen on Twitter after an event like last night’s. For now, we won’t do anything. If it doesn’t die down in a few weeks or if we see articles popping up on magazines though, we’ll see what to do. But everything will be alright. I promise.”

“Okay,” Emma said after looking at him for a few moments, letting her worries being washed away by the sea blue of his eyes and the low timbre of his voice. “Get off me then,” Emma pushed him away, “We should get dressed.”

Killian landed with a muffled “oof” on his side of the bed. “Rude, Swan,” he pouted as Emma got up.

Feeling his stare on her bare arse as she walked, Emma looked at him behind her back and stuck her tongue out before disappearing in the ensuite. A few moments later, just as she was about to step under the shower’s spray, Killian burst the door open and joined her.

Surprisingly, by the time they arrived at Regina’s, Robin and his son were the only people already there. (Or well, him being the only one there was more a surprise to Killian who was still in denial than it was to her).

“Here you are,” Regina exclaimed when she opened the door, letting them inside.

“Hello, Regina. Where is everyone else?” Killian spoke first, voicing her own question.

“Robin is outside with Roland trying to work the barbecue. As for the others…” she trailed off, a small smirk appearing on her lips, “Well, let’s just say I told you to come half an hour earlier because I knew you were going to be late. Which you are, by the way.”

“Oh, come on,” Killian whined as Emma’s eyes fixated on the boy that was currently sprinting down the stairs, “It’s only fifteen minutes!”

Regina didn’t have time to reply that a blur of brown hair and clothes hurled in Killian’s arms while shouting his name.

“Hello to you too, lad,” Killian chuckled, lifting the buy up and spinning him around before letting his feet touch the floor again. Emma could only smile at that scene.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Henry?” Regina sighed, “No running on the stairs.”

Still in Killian’s arms, the boy mumbled an apology before letting him go and turning around to face her.

Emma froze, but her mind started racing.

“You must be Emma,” Henry chirped, “I’m Henry. Killian told me so much about you.”

Emma didn’t even notice Killian flushing red beside her, nor did she try to speak right away. Instead, she desperately tried to get rid the lump that had formed in her throat and to make sense of what she was seeing. Because the boy in front of her wasn’t just Regina’s Henry. He was the carbon copy of Henry, her son.

#captain swan #cs ff au #cs ff #cs mafia #cs au #my fic #my writing #fran against words #serendipitous melody #otp:we'll always find the sun

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ratherhavetheblues · 6 years ago

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CLAIRE DENIS’ HIGH LIFE “It’s called a taboo…”

Although this film, from 2018, proceeds with an English lexicon, it is most important to comprehend the French title. Une Vie en Hauteur, translates as, “a haughty, superior, arrogant approach toward others.” What sort of intransigence could be in play within our film today? There is, as we all know at some level, a distemper underway between amateurs of reality and those professionals regarding the former as having failed to digest the ultimacies already in full flower, namely, religion, humanitarianism and science. (All of which, seemingly, despite little tiffs, well embarking unconditionally all three of them at once.) With her film, High Life, filmmaker, Claire Denis, has squarely ventured into that latter buttress, science, whereby she stands (in many eyes) to be embarrassed by the “hauteur” of her betters. Moreover, let’s not kid ourselves that such “ladies” pastimes will be merely met with droll tolerance.

Our helmswoman here does have up her sleeve the resources of a guy who posthumously maintains a filmic action as far from “ladies concerns” as you can get, namely, Ingmar Bergman, an avatar of very high problematic. She has deployed for our considerations a film which, on the surface, has nothing to do with science, namely, The Seventh Seal (1957)—a biblical concomitant which leaves room for heresy during 12th century Sweden, bristling with witch-burning, flagellation and a far-reaching plague. A couple, Jof and Marie, itinerant circus entertainers, choose to be not fans of the regional leadership (just back from a crusade), who obsesses about living forever, by somewhat odd but actually usual means. The couple—but Jof definitely in the lead—see in their infant son a budding acrobatic genius and juggler the likes of which the world has never seen. Those latter gifts will reappear in our matter before us, in a scenario millennials’ into the future, whereby the march of (bored?) science has dreamed up travel far beyond the Solar System to transport death-row killers into the range of the nearest black hole, and others’ beyond, in hopes of some miracle. During this time-bending amazement, one protagonist, Monte, the highest flyer, another Jof, but very different, what with the bloody Jacobean melodrama blazing, encounters another such craft from that site of inspiration, but this time with a crew of dogs.

The first scenes appear to be far remote from a saga reeling from “hauteur,” let alone outer space. We begin with a lush and sunny vegetable garden sparked with reverberant musical undergrowth. Gentle mist brings about an ambience of decidedly earthy locale. Then a rather jarring note—a muddy pit and a ladder looking down. A baby cries, and we’re soon taken to an office where the child stands up in an improvised playpen, watching two screens featuring American Indians. The baby babbles happily, and, as if a cue, we cut to an astronaut, repairing something on the surface of the gray craft, while being connected by radio to the office. He smiles on hearing the happy child. “Da-da,” she calls. “Dada,” it is.

Then down to business. The show that day on the screens is short on baby talk. On the monitor at the left, there is, in silhouette, an aboriginal warrior on his horse (filmed in black and white). The peculiar headpiece resembles a bird of prey, or also a wolf’s head. (The world of wolves being germane in Bergman’s eyes, particularly in the film, Hour of the Wolf [1968].) On the monitor at right, we have a dying brave with, if not an atomic bomb, a lot of smoke pouring upward. The baby smiles. When the screen becomes a sunburst void, the young viewer begins to cry. The dad tries, “Shhh,” as a fix. She screams, and the enhanced communication factor causes a fright which results in the tool he was using to fly into the primal darkness. On his way in, we see a close-up of Monte’s mouth along with two cold spotlights in the surround. (Inherent cold?) Also, we see him wearing a set of underclothes which might have been used in the 12th century. Just before that entry, the repairman repairs to a reverie of circular stones and hardened mud in semi-darkness. Amidst that apparition was a small tooth-like, white object. Then the imagery attends to sharpened focus, and an arm with a bloody hand holding a bloody rock, which promptly relinquishes its burden into the void, to be followed by the arm lifting upward and quickly disappearing (perhaps elicited by the baby’s howl startling him to drop his wrench into infinity). Hour of the Wolf includes its protagonist fracturing the skull of a bothersome child by a similar action. And Monte, as later seen in flashback within that first flashback, had been on death row due to crushing the head of a young girl with the rock seen in that vision. Her annoyance to Monte involved noticing the mutilated and drowned dog of his he’d savaged, where we were able to see our-dad-of-the-hour displaying the full jacket from the avant-garde glimpse of sleeve.

When finally stifling for the time being that horror, the reformed travelling killer proves to be not so shabby a single parent. By way of the ladder, he accesses the garden, chooses a legume and promptly and gently provides a healthy pablum. After that, seated on the kitchen floor, he bathes the girl with skill, affection and patience. They play awhile with a red devil sort of doll. (Later, he withstands the girl’s loud and long crying jag.) But his loving solicitude does have a veer. With attention to emotive care, he delivers a sort of eccentric Ted Talk. “Don’t eat your own shit… Don’t drink your own piss… Don’t swallow horseshit… It’s called a taboo, tooo…booo… If my old man could see me now… Brake the laws of nature… You’ll pay for it, you son of a bitch!” After hours of deafening screaming, Monte complains to his only listener. “So many tears from such a tiny little body…Please, it’s gonna kill me…” It stops. The baby pulls at the skin on his arm. “Look at that,” he says. Monte sits by the bed, beholding a miracle. After she falls asleep, he says, “You don’t drown them like a dog… It’d be so easy… That’d be a first, and then me.” This sequence ends with him and her at the garden. She feeds him a strawberry, and he’s all smiles. At the ladder, he holds her and encourages her to climb up. “Up, up…”

“Don’t eat your own shit,” would be a strange but potent gambit as to disinterestedness. The avatars of advantage—and they number by the billions—can’t get enough of dubious golden oldies. Denis pivots at this point, whereby the action up till now constitutes the newest stage while flashback to the preboarding and then subsequent earlier vignettes march apace. Why? We need to see, by way of the history of this flight, how bad and how good things go under the aegis of a hard and dominant sell. Though the film finds Monte trying not to eat shit by challenging a lead pipe punk, namely, Boyse, for carving with a hard and sharp weapon a graffiti into a wall at the medical zone, we encounter her first a bit out of order (very appropriate for her) as an insert showing particulars before she’s arrested. Boyse, we’ll tell you now, is the baby’s mom, induced by the medic, Doctor Dibs, the Pedant of Pregnancy, who has recruited, all the guys but Monte, to a daily regime of masturbation for the sake of in vitro fertilization—the payoff being a mild drug. Her one and only success being with stand-off, Monte, as we’ll describe in the order of the flashback.

Whereas Boyse, as you’ll see, is almost totally feral and destructive during her stint in the sky, there is a brief but searing episode involving her on land, which leaves you enchanted. Like a great acrobat, she gracefully and powerfully uses the instances of the boxcar to reach the roof—in this rooftop position being kin to Monte. Moreover, the travellin’ kids resemble, somewhat, Jof and Marie, in their caravan. (A third rider, at another place on the train, puts up his middle finger and smiles in a rather shy manner to no one in particular; but to everyone in fact.) As night takes over, she leans back in a shallow container and relishes the currents from the plunge of the iron horse, and the darkness. She and her cohort sleep closely and on cardboard. Almost as gritty as old-time coal miners, it is the grottiness on their exposed calves that both repels and endears them to us. One more noteworthy, earlier moment on terra firma, consists of her stretching out here hand, to feel the ripple of prevailing wind as the train races on. In doing so, she’s surprisingly at work on her education, an education you won’t find in college because the jailers there have a very big gun (named, classical rational thought) trained on students and faculty alike. We saw that same laconic gesture with the protagonist of Denis,’ White Material (2009), wherein she was having too much adventurous—actually, suicidal—fun to heed the classical rational chopper screaming at her to get the hell up and out of a nasty civil war.

Back to the dust-up at the hospital/ lab, Boyse rips a long wound along Monte’s arm, for his interfering in her showing how little she respects the doctor. (Bergman had a long history of portraying medics as not up to the intimacies of sensibility.) While being patched up by Dr. Dibs (that term denoting Straight A’s as far as it goes), the patient, rather surprisingly, sees fit to explicitly mention that he sees value in her range of interests. (Though he comes across as an inflected born-again Aquarian, he does have a whack of pedantry. Will it cripple, over [bloated] time here, his scatological commitment to disinterestedness? [Back to the time of the baby, we see him earnestly posting reports—for instance, how he removed and replaced the defective piece of surface—while such messaging had been defeated by the light-years’ gap. On the other hand, he brags, “I never caved in” [to the sleep-killing noise]. And then the baby’s strawberry gift to Monte; and Boyce’s strawberry hair and complexion, once scrubbed up. Bergman’s, Wild Strawberries [1957] being a parable of pristine recovery. The numeral “7,” placed on the craft and on all the uniforms, perhaps refers to the release date, 1957, of both The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries. The signage, “9,” on the dog craft, might refer to Bergman’s, The Passion of Anna, 1959, where the protagonist is a killer of farm animals. Denis often joins Jim Jarmusch’s umbrage [not to mention’s that of Kelly Reichardt] toward those abusing entities far more consistently and effectively balanced than humans. Monte’s history of killing his dog, not to mention killing his neighbor, would be perhaps a factor not completely resolved.)

We already have a lot of cards on the table, here; but a direction to thrill us is nowhere to be seen. Or, rather, I’ve found it advisable until now, that the soundtrack and playlist be stilled, the better to orient the viscosity and traction struggling to make headway. Denis’ musical force, “Tindersticks” (having already almost stolen the show in her film, 35 Shots of Rum [2009]), endeavor, by reverberant and seductive aural thrust, to further illuminate the mastery of eschewing one’s own shit. Much startling pain and confusion are right around the corner. But it is the measure of thrust (acrobatics) we must especially ponder.

We could describe the crisis woven for us to be the limits of control. As it happens, Jim Jarmusch put out, in 2009, a film, called, The Limits of Control, including actress, Tilda Swinton, tall, thin and blonde, who comes to an unpleasant end. Another of the killers onboard here, rather alike Tilda (but with a prominent scar the length of her right cheek), confronts Dibs, “Why do you keep taking this sperm?” Her stressed response is, “The odds are not in our favor. But when my work of perfection is achieved…” That unwelcome question drives the perfectionist to another dimension of bounty, situated by the stairs close to the earthy garden, namely, that presiding lunge of emotive delight, known as the fuckbox, a small but powerful rollercoaster to help survive the stupid fuckers who stuck them there. Joining Dibs nearer to what really matters to her, when freed of taboos, and with the band of the day attending to reverb and real invention, she, along with means of intervention, joins those dance rebels (writhing acrobats) like Loie Fuller, Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker and Martha Graham. (The Bergman film—and right here I’d like to declare how many viewers were wrong about it being a flop, namely, The Serpent’s Egg [1977], features such a dance innovation.) On ending her gig, she immediately bumps into Monte headed to the garden. “I know I look like a witch,” she says. Her handsome outreach (juggling) is met by Monte’s pedantry, “That doesn’t seem to do you much good.” Her retort, “Better than you think,” does, at least leave room for imperfection. Monte, overly proud to tell himself and her, “I kept my fluids to myself,” continues, “So humiliating… You need to wipe your nose.” He rubs her upper lip. An odd register between a boss and an underling, however the miasma may run. But not an odd register between spouses. (Boyse will, later on, have the nerve to pull from her that Dibs had wiped out her whole family. But her credentials gave her a measure of gravitas.) The one sworn to saves lives argues, “You all come to look at me at night.” He counters, “You’re foxy and you know it. I just can’t understand your mission… I still believe in the mission. However, he can conclude, “It’s just a new religion for you.” And she can swing back to, “Because I’m totally devoted to reproduction.” She leaves him with, “Happy Monk, going to sew your fields.”

The slipping and sliding of that twosome on the go, close to the speed of sound, have, going forward, neither the luxury nor the talent to polish their genius. On their voyage to short love and long death, they become immersed with disease and murderous hate. But their far from insignificant efforts lift this crash to something sublime. Boyce, swamped by her refusal to recognize limits of control involving a paradoxical agency, peels away from the center of the action, to be briefly superseded by the leukemia of a man beset by the lurking of radiation. Having a glimpse of her at her level best, we’re not astonished that Dibs has a heart. Her empathy strikingly conveys cinematically by the superimposing over her face of the cancer cells from a scan. So engaged is she by soothing the pain in gently touching him, the dying man kisses Dibs and she responds in kind. In contrast, there is Monte, with light years away from wisdom, crudely insisting, “I have good genes.” He adds, “Stink, the usual stench. It gets me hard…” Dismissing such trash, she assures the victim she’ll dull his pain. “There is nothing to fear, I promise…” He responds, “Everything’s gonna’ be fine…” On the heels of that real confluence, she unfortunately declares, “No one to help me, as I’m helping you… No one to put me out of my misery… I’m alone with my guilt…” The man closest to death tries to say something. She puts her ear to his mouth. She inserts the poison, and she mourns the disappearance, more profound than a black hole.

Also getting him hard in this moment is a frail young Brit with a triangular tattoo on his neck and another one on his arm. He’s no Stephen Hawking (that celebrated black-hole-mathematically-sharp-gazer); but there is something about his irreverence and appetite for the flashy—following up Dibs at the earthquake room, and addressing her as, “Fucking cock block” –which is bound to be spectacular, if not tremendously substantive. In the wake of the long death throes, he wakes up in the middle of the night and discovers that he craves more dark stories. He comes to a three-woman bedroom and decides to rape Boyse. The ensuant disarray involves the tall skeptic wedded to the limits of control trying to help a figure who knows another field of dynamics. The former gets dragged out to the corridor and beaten senseless. Monte arrives and subdues the rapist; and while his attention is elsewhere in the chaos another woman with a knife stabs the troublemaker many fatal times, including ripping out his eyes.

Earlier on, there is a dip to our planet where a celebrity pundit conducts an interview with a Millennial journalist, around Boyse’s age. They’re sitting in First Class, and the subject is the flight and what a shame the physicists are on the wrong track to rehabilitate criminals. He’s particularly miffed that the space riders on the rapid move, with a vehicle resembling a ghetto Walmart, will never return to Earth. Dibs, though sleeping through the little war, is on the hook to elevate the tone she actually knows quite a bit about. (If she felt like it, she’d have pondered the syntheses flashing on the two triangular tattoos, and the triad of lights at the craft’s rear end.) Beyond lockdowns she knows she needs some magic, being a witch, a bit more stable than the witch in The Seventh Seal, who, nevertheless, does better than the pundit. Sometime, perhaps prodigious speed-of-light later, she tip-toes to Monte’s bed and sort of rapes him. While he sleeps through the invasion, she pledges her love to him. She kisses his hand; she sucks his finger; she opens her blouse. “Will you hold me?” she whispers. “Why don’t you take me in your arms? I close my eyes. I hold you… Hold me…” She mounts him. “Feel me, Monte.” Astride, and a moment of far-sighted love, she kisses him. “Monte, thank you!” She carries the semen to the lab, places it in a vial, comes to Boyse’s bed, kisses her belly and introduces the semen. This singularity elicits a blaze of a galaxy tinted with pink hues.

Soon after the violent targeting of Boyse, and quite a while before she’s pregnant, she’s with Dibs at the clinic. The witch remarks, “Not so easy to get inside you as you think…” Boyse, rather surprisingly, laments, “I’ll never have kids. I’m sure of it.” (That happens to be the same remark by Eve, a flakey and promiscuous wife, in Bergman’s film, Shame [1968].) The hardened cynic asks for confirmation that the controller killed her youngster. “With a knife!” is the answer. Countering her dismay, she moisturizes her hands and braids her remarkably long hair. Soon after Boyse, with a baby in an incubator and pouring out milk, there comes to her a storm of resentment concerning a looming loss of wildness. (Not so easy to get inside the you.) Dibs’ delight in this coup (Monte not yet up to speed) coincides with a close encounter of the first of many planned and completely daft “experiments” –perhaps a Trump-like administration in play—with a neighborhood of comic-based thrills. The skeptical blonde had been tagged to take one for the team, but Boyse, thinking that her best move would be a comic book finale, kills the intended and goes on to kill herself with a black entity demanding grown-up reflection.

There is a cordial black (perhaps a one-time traitor of “intelligence”) who shares the work of gardening, and who misses his gospel-based wife. His quirky will to die coincides with the outset of Monte’s tenure of parenting. Dibs, our protagonist’s not-quite-to-roll-on as a Marie to Monte’s Jof, due to her being assassinated by one of her many enemies, and according by him a dignified funeral in slow-motion upon the heavens, may have lost a new outlook on life. But Monte, that lucky stiff, shows us a possibility and a failed possibility of some measure. (As seen before the long, long flashback, there was now visibility about his visit to the multiplex’s morgue [with a complement awaiting a miracle], suiting them out and flushing them out to graces of dynamics they hardly knew. One other thing, he descends to a tantrum concerning the phenomenon of death there. Looks like overcoming eating your own shit is still a work in progress.)

As we begin to put an end to that early odd story, the witch’s singularity has overshot that noisy baby girl. (One moment back there, shows Monte opening the incubator door. He holds the baby and he smiles.) She’s an adolescent now, and the delight with the baby has been overrun by bothersome questions—a bothersome girl about that age having once been murdered by him. Monte’s first annoyance onscreen is that she insists upon sleeping with him. “Get outta here…Too heavy now…Go back to your own bunk… Crazy girl!” In her bunk she calls out, “Too far…”

Facing the day, we are struck by the shabbiness of their clothes and the craft’s interior. Will to live is on the line. The baby’s name is Willow. Their dilemma is extraordinary, but not unprecedented. How to go forward in what certainly appears to be a dead-end. (Boyse and her friends on the freight were about that.) Monte has become subdued; but he does now instinctively describe an acrobatic move with his hands. The ship is an eyesore, but in addition to its long history of essential emptiness, it continues to maintain three lights in triangular form. The Hawking departure went nowhere. But the magic of true dialectic was there for the asking. Willow is of a mind to say, “Looks like out.” The visit from “9” (perhaps, as mentioned, regarding Bergman’s film, The Passion of Anna [1969], where the title figure comes to light as a maniacal killer of farm animals) is probably unhelpful regarding their being between a rock and a hard place. (Moreover, there is the virtual date of 1959 for the Bergman film, The Magician, where a wizard is not.) But, then, beasts are not to be overlooked. Then there is the notice, on a dysfunctional apparatus, announcing, “Communication Error.” This barrier somehow drives Willow to realize, “We don’t need help.”

In the brush with the dogs, Monte covers her eyes, guessing more slaughter to come. Its turning out to be merely sad sends her reverting to childishness. “I want a dog so bad!” She calls him cruel for worrying about an epidemic, a plague. “What do you know about cruelty?” he snaps. (The plague being probably everywhere.) He retreats to the garden and washes up. She tells him, “You’re right, dad. I’m sorry. I have everything I need here…” (That couldn’t be right, could it?) The soundtrack rings out a far-reaching possibility. The undirected screen comes back to life, and delivers a Half-Time American Football marching band (perhaps not so far-reaching). He notices her in the disposition of praying. “What God are you praying to?” She explains, “I saw them on the random images from Earth. I just wanted to know how it feels. An event onscreen shoes the ancient blue and white Swedish flag, from the era of Jof and Marie. They have a view of another black hole.” “It’s like a mouth that just swallows up,” he says. “Too big.” she agrees. But she comes back with, “We should try it. To feel it” [Boyse felt it]. Monte’s hair is now pepper and salt. He quietly chides, “Thought we were supposed to be drifters.” (That couldn’t be right, could it?) She persists, “But it’s so big… I think the density is very low.” He shakes his head. “I believe it,” she concludes. Now they’re at the entry zone, setting up a two-seater, like the one Boyse commandeered. Something possesses her to add, “I’m sad you’d leave your data, even your prisoner list” [pedantry being a hard disease to beat]. In quite a mood swing, resembling her mother, she declares, “I’ll be destroyed by the fire wall of the black hole, anyway!” Now en route, she over activating the ways of acrobatics, she reports, “Here’s the fire wall. I know it. We’ll make it through.” From here to there, she turns to the super-quixotic: “Do I look like my mother?” [quite a question]. Since she clearly looks more like Monte [or Dibs] than Boyse, his answers, as to her mother’s features, are all no’s. He tells her she has rodent teeth… a little rat… But he grants her, “You’re special. You’re like no one else. I love that.” Their little ship has only two lights. The magic did not prevail. But there was some golden to love.

We then see a rapid re-spooling of scenes of defeat: the aboriginals; the garden; #7… With an oxygen level of appalment, the drama takes over, asking why did they shut down? True, there were mountains (as per Monte) to manage. But the second necessity, juggling, was hardly considered in this rocketing blaze of being a soloist, first and foremost.

This film’s underwhelming optics plays into that aberration. But its aural life brims with reverberance, a ripple of energy, wherein juggling comes to life, and that careless term, “the heavens,” comes onboard. Denis’ association with the British band, Tindersticks, has carried us to new frontiers of mood; and mood, whether acknowledged or not is pretty much everything. Sonic acrobatic initiatives and their juggling responsiveness-in-appreciation installs a work and play space to challenge the suicidal outcome in High Life. Were the last two standing fully aware of that dance of life, the radical confinement could have sustained duets and solos-not-so-definitively-solo.

Willow

Willow, where are you hiding now?

In the dappled light, deep in the trees

The spiders and the centipedes

Crawl across your hands, across your knees.

Willow, do you walk across the sand?

Willow, do the waves crash and fall?

And their fingers tickle at your feet

And pull a little as they retreat.

Do you feel the rushing forward?

Though you’re standing still?

Willow, are we rushing forward, are we standing still?

Willow, do you crouch among the rooftops?

Willow, do you listen to the city wheezing?

And your dreams, they stretch beyond the clouds

And past…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOHFktF5E1o

#claire denis

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treehugginglibrarian · 8 years ago

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The Strongest Librarian & the Littlest CrossFitter

Me: "I've tried to convince my library friends to come to the gym with me. They're all scared of you guys. Probably because I've told them I'm the littlest CrossFitter. Since I'm the strongest librarian, they assume you're all huge and scary." Coach: "The Strongest Librarian and the Littlest CrossFitter. That'd make a good blog post." Me: *challenge accepted*

And so I write. Or attempt to write. About my "CrossFit Journey." It's something I've given consideration to writing for a while now. "At the six month mark," I told myself, only to not bother writing it. "The first time I RX a WOD," I told myself, only to not bother writing it. "If you actually attempt every workout in the Open," I told myself. This time, I guess I'll actually write it.

Because I did.

I attempted, with varying levels of success, every workout in the CrossFit Open. Had you told me in March of 2016 that I would be participating in the CrossFit Open in March of 2017, I would have rolled on the floor in laughter. I think I'd known for awhile, in the back of my head, that I would eventually join a CrossFit gym. How could I not, given who I was dating? She'd been at a CrossFit gym for forever. The gym was life, sanity, a safe space. I just thought about my joining in the same abstract way you think about anything that is going to happen "eventually," but for which that "eventually" is a long way off.

Then I broke myself. And gained weight.

A little back story, so those statements make a bit more sense. I completely hate my body. Or, more accurately, I used to completely hate my body. Now I only sort of hate my body, which sounds awful, but is rather remarkable progress. No one beat me as a child or told me I was unworthy. I'm just like way too many women in America in that I look in the mirror and see something that I don't like. If it was severe enough for me to turn to drastic measures, like avoiding food or puking my food back up, a shrink would have diagnosed me with body dysmorphia. Having grown up listening to my mother's horror stories about anorexia, however, I have always been hyper vigilant about not giving in to my occasional desire to starve myself into a smaller size. I am naturally slim and blessedly fond of exercise. This fondness grew all the more extreme when I left the military and required an outlet for the intensity that simply wasn't necessary in grad school or working at a library. I took to triathlon training, with the end state of "IronMan" in the forefront of my brain. A woman who had never run a marathon, didn't own a bike, and hadn't been in a pool for swimming purposes since sometime in elementary school thought a triathlon was a good outlet. Sometimes I'm a few screws short of fully operational.

In the first six months I made it through a metric century and a half marathon. In the first year I made it through a full century and a full marathon. Two years after I started, I made it through a half-IronMan, with the intent to do a full one two years after that. At the start of my third training year, I heard my knee pop while out for a run, a pop that was all-too-familiar, and knew there was a chance my plans were shot to hell. I ran a ridiculously painful, poorly trained for, road marathon five months later. Six weeks after that I did a trail marathon, my first actual trail race, and sincerely regretted my life choices for the last six miles or so. It was a trail marathon towards the end of the summer, however, that finally got my stubborn ass to the doctor and made me realize I was going to have to change the way I was doing shit. When I was forced to quit at mile 18, my first "DNF" in any event I had tried, I knew that if I was going to make it to a full IronMan, at any point in my life, I had to fix myself. Three or four months of physical therapy later and I was still barely running more than four miles at a time. I was lifting weights, playing on ellipticals, going to work out classes at the local Y, and completely miserable. I was neither challenged nor in as good a shape as I wanted to be. I tried boxing, and found that while it was great for anger release, the instructors were touch-and-go and my wrists were completely miserable.

I remember looking in the mirror one day, about 18 months or so after the initial pop in my knee, and wondering if I would ever be able to run again. Wondering if I would ever look in the mirror and be happy again. Then remembering that, even when I was elfin in size and capable of finishing a half-IronMan, I didn't actually like the way I looked. I was smaller than I had been in high school and still felt too big. I felt broken, I felt like I was losing ground, and I actually was gaining weight. None of these things were good for me from an emotional health stand point. When a desperate five mile run left me in a heap on the floor my knee hurt so badly, I sent my girlfriend a text message. "It's time. Tell Adam it's time." There was no need to explain further. Two days later, her coach contacted me via e-mail and we set up my first one-on-one consultation. About ten days later I went through my first full WOD. It was hell. Complete torture. I felt weak, useless, out of shape, and like I was never going to be able to do this. So, naturally, I just kept going back.

The actual changes to my body that this insanity has wrought were hardly overnight, but they also weren't as gradual as one would think. Within six weeks, pants that hadn't buttoned were buttoning again. That didn't much matter though, since a mere four weeks later they didn't necessarily fit over my quads or my glutes. Shirts stopped fitting through the sleeves and the shoulders. Button downs stopped buttoning properly. What was weird, though, was that I didn't really care. I mean, I cared that I had to toss clothing that I liked. I cared that I had to spend money on new clothes. But I didn't care that I was bigger. I had something to show for it. By three months in I had added 35 pounds to my deadlift. Three months after that, I had upped it another 20. Weights that started as things I could lift once, maybe two or three times, became the weights that I used to do entire WODs with. When I started, a dramatically modified WOD may have left me sore for two days. Now, I routinely show up two days in a row. And abiding by the RX is, with growing frequency, a very real possibility. But I am, absolutely, a physically bigger human being. I was once one of the smallest people at the library I work at. I am now one of the largest in my department- a fact that owes as much to my department's current hiring practices as it does to my exercise regime. Once used to being elfin in appearance, I have had to get accustomed to a new image in the mirror. The image of a woman with a figure, and the arms and legs of someone much stronger than the triathlete I once was.

I stand straighter. I sit straighter. I can run five miles pain free and ride 50 miles having barely trained for it. Routine things that once caused pain, such as carrying a purse or a back pack for too long, are never a problem anymore. On the occasion that I get sick, it lasts me a fraction of the time it lasts my coworkers. From a practical stand point, I am probably the healthiest I have ever been. I am certainly the strongest I have ever been. I am, absolutely, the strongest librarian I know. But then, librarians aren't notorious for being physically strong. That said, I'm still one of the littlest CrossFitters I know. Frail and weak compared to most of my exercise buddies, I routinely look at the board in the gym and wonder "how the fuck does the coach think I'm going to do that?" I also know, though, that I am stronger than I think I am. My brain has failed to keep pace with my capabilities, resulting in "well, shit, I could have gone heavier for that," being a semi-standard thought after a workout. Suffice to say, when one of my coaches says, "No seriously, you can lift more than that," I typically listen. I whine and grumble about it, but I do it.

This process has hardly been without a learning curve, though,and not just because the movements I'm using weren't all familiar to me.

I've had to get used to men, and occasionally physical interactions with them, for the first time in a while. When I left the military, my standard reaction to the male species looked slightly like a child recoiling from a bowl of spinach. My experiences with them in more recent years had been less than great. I knew in asking Lesia to text her coach that I was going to be putting a fair amount of faith in a dude, for the first time in quite a while. I didn't realize how much faith, though, and I didn't realize how frequently he wouldn't be the dude I was having to trust. Moreover, I didn't realize how quickly the other men in the gym would reestablish some of my faith in men, in general. While the coaches are amazing at their jobs and are easy to trust (four men, two women, all awesome), the men I work out with on a regular basis have done wonders for my sense of well-being. They're encouraging, kind, funny, and enjoyable to be around. They have reminded me that, long before a few bad apples spoiled the bunch, there was a good reason I had so many friends who were men. In a world where a full 50% of the population is male, finding a space where I can allow myself to interact with them, knowing that I am perfectly safe, knowing that they are good people, has done a world of good for my sense of sanity. Had you told me THAT was going to be a by-product of a CrossFit gym, I would have thought you nuts.

I eat. A lot. A lot more than I did when I was marathoning. And a lot differently than I did when I was marathoning. At the beginning of the year I finally caved and started cutting down on the amount of processed sugar I was eating. The results were pretty immediate, and not just in my waist line. Workouts hurt less. I recovered more quickly. Moving more weight got easier. It wasn't just anecdotal evidence pulled from a book at the library anymore. How I fueled my body suddenly became a major concern and, as such, the food bill has gone up.

Clothing and shoes matter, but not as much as you'd think. I've purchased very little in the line of new clothing since I started this adventure, and none of it because I "needed" it. I didn't purchase a pair of CrossFit specific shoes until about a month ago. I needed flat shoes, basically zero drop, but they hardly had to be manufactured for the sport in order to be useful for it. If you wanted to, you could do CrossFit in basketball shorts and an old t-shirt every day. In that sense, it's actually the cheapest workout routine I've ever gotten involved in. My bicycle cost me $1300, for the bike itself. My running shoes routinely cost $120 a pair and never lasted nearly as long as my CrossFit shoes will. Triathlons, and training for them, cost me significantly more financially.

It's not really a cult, it's just that we're all the same type of crazy which means we all intuitively understand each other a little bit better than others will frequently understand us. It doesn't matter what your career is, or what your hobbies are, it takes a specific type of crazy to go to a gym where you will take your marching orders from a different person and may well be endeavoring to push over half your body weight over your head. The rest of the world thinks I'm a little bit insane. It thinks the rest of my gym friends are insane, too. This is the main reason why you hear the joke that the "First rule of CrossFit is that you always talk about CrossFit." You give up a lot when "be super strong" or "be super fit" or "be super anything" is high on your task list. I didn't realize until I noticed how much I talk about lifting heavy objects, just how much I used to talk about running, cycling, and swimming. ALL people talk about the things that they do with their lives, their passions, and their pastimes. It's just that for most people, these activities are things that the average human being is relatively capable of relating to.

When I come into work and answer the "what'd you do last night" question with "lifted 155 pounds, 55 times just to see if I could," they just shake their head. They don't find it that odd, however, since there was a time when the answer to that question would have been "rode my bike for 60 miles." For as long as my coworkers have known me, half of everything I talk about has involved exercising because that's what I do. They've never thought to tell me to "shut up about CrossFit" because they're used to it- it's a change in methodology, but not a perceived change in topic. They read, write, watch movies, or play video games (for the most part. There are a few other hobbies in there I’ve picked up on in conversation). I pick shit up and put it down. In the end, we're all after the same thing- finding a meaningful way to occupy our time on this planet and, when possible, claiming some bragging rights. (Anybody who tells you they've never done anything just to claim bragging rights is, absolutely, 100% full of shit).

I started this craziness nine months and some change ago. My clothes don't fit, my food bill is out of control, and most of my friends think I've lost my damn mind.

And I'm insanely happy.

I love going to the gym, even on the days when the workout is going to suck. It's my happy place. A safe space of sorts where I'm free to push myself as hard as I want, under the watchful eyes of one or more coaches who may be the only people who care about my progress more than I do.

I won't say it's cheaper than therapy, because that'd be a lie.

For me, it's a hell of a lot more effective, though.

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