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yvesdot · 3 years

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NANOWRIMO 2021 - BINGO!

I have far too many writing priorities to focus on just one, so here's my compromise: listing them out in bingo format and doing a bit for each. At the same time as all this, I'll also be editing FC near-daily and keeping up with my Patreon. I'll update this post daily with what I worked on. Good luck, NaNoers, and best wishes to my fellow Rebels!

EDIT: NaNo is over in my timezone! Read through all my updates below, along with my final wordcount (I won!) and an updated bingo, below that cut.

NaNo ask game・my askbox

NOTE: I'm not marking the bingos bingoed until the end of the event; I don't want to consider something 'done' until I've literally run out of time to do it. Then we'll see how much I did and whether I think I've finished.

DAY 1: 8211. Spent 12 AM to 6 AM writing The Proposal and editing KAY Chapter 1 to send out for critique. The Proposal is about halfway done now, and I'm happy with my edits. Managed 10 minutes of FC edits right before midnight-- what a mess my middle is.

DAY 2: 1733. Busy day-- got some important Life Things done! Just enough time to write for about 45 minutes straight; 15 minutes fixing up FC's editing doc, then 30 minutes for this week's Patreon post.

DAY 3: 3063. Spent 40 minutes right at 12:00 AM looking over critique on KAY's Chapter 1, then another 30 or so throughout the day, then a bit more time editing The Proposal. The draft isn't as bad as I thought it would be! Still only 1/2 written, but what's there seems fun. I didn't know whether or not to count time I spent at a physical critique for KAY with other writers, but for now I won't since I simply do not seem to need it.

DAY 4: 2585. 20 minutes right at 12 continuing to read through The Proposal, just because I really find it that engaging. Of course, it is MILF4MILF. Later in the day, around 45 minutes writing up this week's Patreon post. Gotta go fast!

DAY 5: 1258. Friday, which is the toughest-- have to write just before Shabbat, and all I managed was the Patreon post.

DAY 6: 1800. Saturday. Came home and managed some more Patreon.

DAY 7: 2510. Spent the day getting all sorts of things done, but barely any time for writing; just Patreon again. Speaking of which: Patreon post is done! About winning NaNo and my journey there, of all things. Really wish I could get a little more Forest Castles in ;__; Hoping tomorrow I can do that as well as a little satirical piece I'm writing.

DAY 8: 3689. I returned to mortālēs and hit the end! It's all written! I may not know just how to attack editing it, but it's there, and that's what's important. Also managed to get my satirical piece in! No FC, though...

DAY 9: 2050. So thrilled to report I have returned to editing Forest Castles! This bit is like a difficult knot; it'll take me a while but will be very satisfying when I have it done. I've realized I spend a lot of time (30 minutes each way) on buses, so if I just take the first bus ride of the day to work on FC, I should in theory have no trouble hitting 15+ minutes of work on it a day. We shall see. Used this editing to begin cobbling together the next Patreon post (busy busy busy...) Hope to hit 50K by the 15th, though it looks like that'll be difficult.

DAY 10: 1881. Got some more FC editing done, then re-read/edited In Her Arms and did a little submissions research. It's a busy week, so I'm letting myself off the hook for not OAing today.

DAY 11: 2467. Some more light mortālēs editing, IIRC, and quite a bit of Forest Castles fun-- I watched Olympic-level sabre fencing and took some notes! I want to give Red, Avner, Eliza, and Ahava all their own distinct fencing styles.

DAY 12: 1151. How I wish I could've done more today. It was really just a bit of Forest Castles work and some waffling over other projects ;___; But, hey, Shabbat starts at 4:40 PM now. I'm going to have to kick myself into gear if I want to hit 50K by the 15th!

DAY 13: 2270. I think I managed a reasonable amount for Motzei Shabbat (post-Shabbat evening)! Posted this week's Patreon post and edited patterned seats, which I like but am worried nobody else will care about. The goal is 8K for tomorrow... we'll see if I hit it.

DAY 14: 8755. No, that is not a typo. I held an OHHOW stream (thanks to those who came!) and visited many more, and I wrote an unbelievable 8K+ words, from patterned seats to FC and finishing up with my Tell Me About The Nonbeliever outline.

DAY 15: 6695. I opened the day by writing out a new idea I've had recently (no title yet!) and later worked on an upcoming interview I have with beloved author Yah Yah Scholfield! I've just got to send the line edits back to them and we'll be releasing it ^__^ The bulk of my writing, though, was centered around my transition diary and the Nonbeliever outline from the other day. Finally, I spent a little time transferring some notes for FC into a Patreon post draft, so people can see how I've been developing that worldbuilding! No wonder I HIT 50K TODAY! Unimaginably thrilled.

DAY 16: 3402. I finished up that interview, worked a little more on the Patreon FC post, and edited more of my FC notes. I also streamed again today! Thanks so much to everyone who came ^_^ Nice to get back to normalcy.

DAY 17: 4611. A complicated bag of non-writing. Updated here, edited/submitted some flash fiction pieces, worked on my parallel post for Rebecca. Managed to work long enough to get a bit ahead on Shabbat this weekend!

DAY 18: 3523. Finished the parallels post and advertised a bit for the Blood & Breath zine overall (GET YOURSELF A COPY!) and began a short side story for Forest Castles.

DAY 19: 2402. Finished the side story at 1:00 AM. Help me! Then it was just a few more minutes of editing it left and right. I'm happy with the content; not so much with the syntax-- I'll have to take another look at it eventually. Did what I wanted to do, though, and great numbers for Friday! Shabbat started at 4:36 PM today.

DAY 20: 3200. Not thrilled about this number! Cleaned up some loose threads from the end of the week + worked on the TMATN outline, but wound up accidentally deleting the original parallel post and then funking up my 4tw word count and panicking over both. Took a lot out of me ;___; I hope to get more done tomorrow, so that I can get ahead on my 100K goal!

DAY 21: 4473. So happy! Not only did I hit a very high goal, but I also finished the TMATN outline! I'm sure it has some snags, but those are for later me to check out.

DAY 22: 3431. Today I hit 75K total! Of course, I am purposefully ahead about 1.8K of where I need to be to hit my goal of 100K, since I want to leave some wiggle room for Thanksgiving and Shabbat and Chanukah. Started working on the Hexagon outline just to move a bit further around the bingo board, and am quite enjoying it thus far.

DAY 23: 3188. Not ideal, but I got a bit done for Exhaustively and am attacking it in a new way.

DAY 24: 5538. Was accidentally moved to transsexual literary critique of an odd quote on writing, and decided to count it (since it'll go up somewhere eventually). Also did some Exhaustively work and got closer to finishing the mythical dialogue tags Patreon post.

DAY 25: 3901. Quite a bit of Exhaustively editing, and admittedly a lot of time spent fixing up my Twitch channel now that I have reached Affiliate status! Thanks so much for coming by ^__^

DAY 26. 2251. I broke 90K! Of course, I've purposefully kept ahead just for a day such as today; I knew I'd be writing less due to Shabbat. I'm very happy with what I did get done (mostly the Hexagon outline) and I hope to find some way to squash most of the rest of my bingo into tomorrow. We'll see how that goes... I was hit with some details of a new idea while on stream, so I might have to fight a few instincts.

DAY 27. 2900. I do wish I'd managed just 500 words more, but in fairness, the words came slowly-- I was working on a brand new short story for a weekly contest (couldn't be helped! plans to the wayside! inspiration takes no prisoners!) and I needed to think hard about it while writing. Broke some new research grounds and hit upon something quite nice and seasonal.

DAY 28. 4562. Finished Dressage-- that's the new short story that's shaking everything up. Edited some more Exhaustively, with my butt kicked into gear due to Max goose-books's birthday coming up in December-- I'll be binding it up into a paperback just for him!

DAY 29. 3354. Got some critique on and made some edits to Dressage. Edited Exhaustively right up until the end. Spent quite a bit of time cleaning up my Hexagon outline. HIT 100K!!!

DAY 29. 2721. Went over two problem bits in Exhaustively-- if Max signs off on them, the whole thing is finished (again)! Then switched to writing this month's Patreon Newsletter, since of course I wanted to reach the end of NaNo first. Happy NaNo! Updated bingo below, and an explanation below that.

Edit patterned seats: Done! It lacks spark, though; lacks that vital why did I write this?. I'll have to go to classic Bradbury sci-fi to see how he handled this issue.

Edit Exhaustively: Done! All that's left is to format it, put out an interest check, print a proof, etc.... This is a quite limited run, so I'm trying to relax a little ^__^

Write mortales: Done! I wrote all the way to the end, erotica and all. A writer I've shared some insecurities with wrote on the draft I handed them, you've embraced male nipples!

Write The Proposal: Begun! I've written approximately half of the draft. Another erotica, and one with a really cohesive plot; I quite like it. Hope to write more soon.

Submit Tragic Accident: Done! And several weeks to get a response, so all I have to do now is wait.

Submit YouTube Comment: Done! I got a rejection, and I'm glad I reached out. This is a really weird, niche piece, and I expect to get a hundred rejections before I find the exact right place.

Submit In Her Arms: Rethunk! This piece just isn't ready to go out. I love it, but I got a critique on it and just about nothing is working in there.

Outline Nonbeliever: Done! I'll go over it again sometime in the next few weeks to polish it up.

Outline Hexagon: Begun! Not remotely perfect, but making tons of progress on the plot.

Finish dialogue tags post: Begun! I hadn't touched this behemoth in months, and I added some words to it. I'll have to go back and re-read Your Father's Son (which I want to do anyway) and add in the relevant quotes from there... and then we'll be done!

FINAL WORDCOUNT: 103,574 words.

#Writing a new novel draft right now would be like actively struggling not to drown & using your last breath to ask for a glass of water.#txt #important writing updates #Got to go back thru DotA and handle all those tags as well... just keep things tidy in the writing spot.#And of course some bonus DotA content to post. Help help help.#Feel free to chat with me about these! I haven't spoken about all of them here.#wtwcommunity #Do you ever read a post and think yeah that guy's insane. Hope I give you that feeling every day.#(Because I think it about myself.)#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2021 #nanorebels #nanoprep #Oh yes it's all split up into tiers. You've got editing writing submitting outlining blogging.

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lawgrain · 4 years

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Alternate 16/17 Spiteful

So I changed some things for Spiteful when writing. This is what I originally had written. Don’t get to exited because this isn’t in the main story (you gotta read it tomorrow for that knowledge). But this was a scene I considered for the end of 16 and basically all of 17. 17 hath changed. (technically I’d like for y’all to read 16 first for context but it isn’t needed and I’m excited too <3)

Jirou all but started a fight with him. And he meant a physical one.

“Why the hell do you keep sitting there?”

Bakugou looked up at her voice taking his earpods out. “Hah? I’ve always sat here.”

He gave her a look as if he was dumbfounded at the question. He wasn’t. He knew this would eventually come up, though he was surprised it hadn’t happened a lot sooner.

“You know what I mean! No one wants you here and it’s literally inconveniencing the entire cafeteria.” She gestured to the overcrowded tables.

“Easy solution; sit the fuck down then. I’m not stopping anyone.” Bakugou retorted.

Jirou redded and Uraraka took over for her. “No one wants to sit with you, Bakugou.”

“Is that it Uraraka?” Bakugou asked condescendingly. “Well if no one wants to sit here then they can fucking deal with it. Are we done now?”

Uraraka’s face glowed up like a tomato. She was about to lose her top. “Why can’t you just stop being a prick huh? No one wants you around so why can’t you just-just-” Uraraka was stuttering in anger. And then, Bakugou will admit, he made a mistake.

“Just what? Go kill myself?” It was said in barely a mutter but the two girls had heard. In an instant, Uraraka was leaping across the table while Jirou was plugging her earphone jacks into the nearest thing to presumably blast something at Bakugou.

Bakugou backed up out of Uraraka’s reach while Kirishima came between the two. Kirishima hardened his skin and held Urakaka back. Jirou, No longer having a clear shot at Bakugou, leapt onto the table and ran past Kirishima and Uraraka to get to Bakugou. She swung at him and Bakugou ducked his head. She immediately turned into a kick which Bakugou dodged, backing up.

Just as she was gearing her earphone jacks to accompany her fist tape shot out, tying her back form continuing. With both girls restrained, Sero spoke up.

“You two are not getting in trouble for fighting with Bakugou,” he said seriously. As he spoke those words Bakugou caught sight of a figure coming up behind them.

Too late.

Ah, the Caterpillar always did pick the worst moments to show up.

Chapter 17

Uraraka was so unbelievably mad at Bakugou, she didn’t have words. The ticking time bomb purposefully went around provoking people and then acted like they were the ones doing something wrong. He never apologized for his actions, he never showed the least bit of remorse, and he was still mean towards Izuku. She hated Bakugou Katsuki.

What tipped both her and Jirou over the edge though was his last comment.

Just what? Go kill myself?

She had not been about to say that. She was not like him. The absolute audacity of that comment. She didn’t know what she was about to say but it wasn’t that.

In the end though, the five of them had all won themselves a spot with one angry Aizawa.

“Do one of you want to explain what I walked into at the cafeteria?” None of them looked at the man but she thought she heard a soft tch coming from Bakugou.

Seeing as none of them answered, Aizawa started calling them out individually.

“How about you Sero? Want to tell me why you had Jirou wound up in tape?” Sero looked away in silence.

When it became clear none of them were giving straight answers, Aizawa switched tactics.

“Bakugou, explain what happened,” Aizawa ordered directly.

Uraraka jolted at this. There was no way Bakugou was going to explain this fairly. Before she could interject, Bakugou had started speaking.

“Fucking fine.” He gave a look at the rest of them and muttered “cowards” loud enough for everyone to hear before launching into his explanation. “I pissed them off, they reacted, Kirishima and Sero held them back.”

And okay. What?

It was all true but at the same time not at all what happened. It was overly simplified. It gave no retelling of who started what or even who might’ve been in the wrong. It certainly wasn’t the overdramatized slandering of her and Jirou scenario that she halfway expected from Bakugou. In fact, if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought Bakugou had started everything.

Aizawa sighed, “Okay then what did you do to ‘piss them off’?”

Bakugou looked done with the conversation, “You are going to have to be a lot more specific.”

“What made the girls want to attack you?” Aizawa asked blandly.

Now Uraraka was really worried about what Bakugou was going to say. He could easily make it sound like her and Jirou were in the wrong. He could act like he really thought that she was going to tell him to go kill himself. And she wasn’t. She didn’t know what she was about to say but she wasn’t like Bakugou at all. She’d never relentlessly bully someone as innocent as Deku-kun.

“Tch. Does it matter? All that happened was a shitty argument. It’s not like you haven’t heard some of those.”

“Most arguments don’t lead to five people making a scene in a cafeteria.”

“That’s because there’s not been an argument in the cafeteria till today.”

“Bakugou,” Aizawa drew out the words exasperated.

“What? It’s true. Everyone in here knows it. The only difference is someone jumped over a table.”

“That is not true! You asked me if I wanted you to go kill yourself.” Uraraka defended, outing herself in the process.

“Is that not how you were going to finish that sentence?”

“It wasn’t! You just said that because of what you did to Deku”

“That’s a fucking lie. Did you forget who came to who to tell a person off for sitting in the cafeteria. I didn’t start that shit.”

Jirou responded this time. “Yes you did, you know nobody wants you there.”

“So that means I’m not allowed to eat?” Bakugou scoffed. “I’ll sit there because it’s a goddamn cafeteria. Deal with it.”

“Everyone just stop,” Aizawa looked so tired. “So correct me if I’m wrong. You three had an argument. You two attacked. And you two stopped it.” Aizawa motioned to the appropriate groups and the students nodded. “Okay Kirishima, Sero, you two are free to go.”

The two boys left quickly before Aizawa addressed the rest of the group.

“As for you three, do you understand why it’s so hard to decide what should be done?” Jirou and Uraraka averted their eyes again. Bakugou didn’t. Aizawa sighed. “Did any of you actually land a hit on another?”

“No sir,” Uraraka and Jirou responded. Bakugou remained quiet.

“Bakugou, did either of them land a hit on you?”

“I dodged.”

Aizawa nodded, “You three are free to go.”

Uraraka gaped, “We’re not in trouble?” There was a short pause before Bakugou was surprisingly the one who answered.

“There’s nothing to punish. No one got hurt and everything else is just hearsay,”

“He’s right. And because no one got hurt, it’s okay to leave this with the understanding that it is not to happen again. You all may leave now,”

Jirou and Uraraka left quickly but Bakugou stayed behind. Uraraka didn’t care because she was irate.

End alternate.

Anyway, lmk if you’re curious about anything or if after I post 16 if you’re wondering why I made the changes I did <3

#spiteful fic

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loftec · 4 years

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Hi i don't know if anyone haven't ask you about it or i'm the only one who wants to read it but CAN YOU PLEASE SHARE YOUR NOTES (ch.44) i don't know if you were serious about that but i really would love to read them cause i'm obsessed with everything what is ntw related 🖤 hope ur well

Hi friend! It’s possibly just you (or one other person, in case of separate anons) but that is enough! I was absolutely serious.

Note on the notes! This is not all of it, because my notes for this chapter were often repetitive and very messy, and some older notes were from four years ago when I didn’t bother writing things out properly, so they barely make sense even to me. But! I’ve done my best to sort everything in some kind of linear order, and removed most of the repetition. And, well, you asked for it... sorry! 🖤

Ian shows up in the morning, Mickey digs out the magazine Iggy stole from Amelia’s dentist’s office the other day and confronts Ian about the big-ass article in Rolling Stone about IAN’S BAND, says he’s listened to some of their songs, takes out a paper where he’s written down some lyrics that sound strangely familiar.

You’re famous!

I’m in a band, people know about us right now, tomorrow they might not. I’m not famous.

You’re kinda famous.

Ian talks about Mickey recognizing him because of Frank. Hints that there might be several songs inspired by Mickey. It’s awkward as fuck, didn’t want you to know.

Were you ever gonna tell me?

Oh yeah, I had a plan. 3 dates, dinner and a movie, day out with Yev, dinner at my place turned vigorous love-making. Second prong; cohabitation, engagement, marriage, then on our wedding night I tell you about crushing on Justin Timberlake when I was 12,

then I tell you I’m semi-famous, if it still applies.

Mickey thinks his face might be on fire.

What the?

I’m fucking with you, Mick. Figured you already knew.

This again?

You angry?

No, I’m not fucking angry. Just-

Freaked out.

Kinda, yeah.

You shouldn’t be. Please.

It’s weird that I didn’t know, I feel like a schmuck. (And I’m pretty sure by your count we’ve already been on those first two dates.)

I’m sorry. I thought you knew and by some fucking miracle didn’t treat me different. I’d been gearing up to maybe have to have this conversation on our date, ‘cause it’s shit sometimes, you know? I don’t do interviews and I never talk about myself when I gotta do them, but there’s still a limelight and a lot of bullshit that complicates

I’ve been crushing on you since we met basically, and I thought I’d just… let it run its course, keep my mouth shut about it and deal until it went away and we could remain friends without me fucking it up.

Didn’t work, by the way.

Good.

Mickey is talking about it with Etch, who suggests that Ian’s been writing at the diner for a reason.

Etch looks up some lyrics and Mickey caps locks them to Ian

You might have inspired a few lately…

Fuck off. How many?

Since we met? Pretty much all of them.

Maybe one or two made it on to the album, but I wrote those before we really got to know each other so they’re just like… about moments, and how I would feel around you.

Didn’t think of it as creepy but it kinda sounds that way now.

No it’s fine

I won’t do it again.

Said it’s fine. Kinda like it.

Yeah?

You gonna tell me which ones are about me, or is that a secret too?

What are you doing tonight?

Thought you said you were going on tour?

We are, it starts tonight. It’s a small fan club gig here in Chicago.

You have a fan club?

Kinda. I’ll put you on the guest list if you want to come.

(Mickey calls Svetlana to make sure Yevgeny can stay with her over the weekend.)

It’s fine if you don’t want to, we’ll do something else when I get back.

Calm your tits Gallagher, course I wanna go. Needed to make sure I’ve got Yev covered.

Oh okay, good. You’re on the list. Doors at 7, gig starts at 8, no support.

You’ve got no chill.

(Ian doesn’t answer for a while)

I like it.

Good, that was torture. Never doing that again.

(Etch teases him about having his nose in his phone, and makes him aware of new guests arriving)

Gotta get back to work

Yeah, me too. See you tonight?

No chill at all.

Ian invites him to the concert and gives Mickey his phone number. Mickey makes sure Yevgeny stays with his mom on saturday, and after work he goes home and gets ready. Showers and cleans himself thoroughly, puts on cologne and a band t-shirt he hasn’t worn in ages, it’s gotten kinda tight on him since he got it. (He puts on a dress shirt first, tucks it into his pants and glares at his reflection).

He’s on the guest list when he gets there, the girl in the box office can’t find him at first but then Anne shows up and points him out, he’s on the VIP list and gets a pass that he’s told he needs to carry so it’s visible. He makes a point of shoving it in the admission guy’s face, but then shoves the ostentatious thing down the pocket of his jeans. Anne shows him in and tells him about the gig, about how the fan club got started. Anne says he can go backstage but he says he’ll pass, thank you. He gets a beer and finds a good spot, there’s a balcony halfway through the venue where he’s got a perfect view of the stage without having to stand in the front.

They text a little, Mickey says he’s there and Ian says he’ll make a sign when they play a song inspired by him.

run-through of the concert, Ian touches the side of his nose when the song is about Mickey. He’s sexy as fuck, and has some ridiculous stripper moves.

He takes off his hoodie at some point, and sweating through his tank he and Anne put on gloves and start hitting the barrels with crowbars.

Anne is the maestro, maybe Ian crowd surfs at some point? Warren Ellis that violin, man. He has little routines with Anne, and some with Jon too. One song, Anne gets one of his guitars and he does noisy stuff with his violin and plays on the oil barrels with Stran, completely in sync.

They got some good stage banter going, and at some point Ian does a Tom Waits impression, and Anne groans and says he’ll sing the whole thing if they’re not careful. There’s a reason why he’s

For the encore, Ian touches the side of his nose and they start playing a song, Anne saying that this is a first. It looks like Ian is about to sing, but then it looks like he changes his mind and they start playing a song that Mickey sure as fuck hope isn’t about him. The insufferable man on a date right next to Mickey tells the woman he’s with that they were about to play the mysterious title track from their last album that never ended up on the record

“it’s derivative, but cute”

how can it be a title track if it’s not on the album

the guy talks about how he’s got a friend working as an engineer in the studio and he’s sent him an early demo version. It’s not their best song by far, but it’s cool that pretty much no one else has heard it.

Mickey asks the girl if she’s ok with this joker, and she says she’s fine. He offers to get her a cab or something, if she wants to get out of there.

She says she’s not interested

Lady, if I wanted to get with either of you, it wouldn’t be you. Just sayin, I ain’t picky, but that guy would’ve gotten the boot ten minutes into the date if he were here with me, no offense.

WHAT IF.

The concert is over, and crowd starts to let up. Then a fight breaks out at the front and Mickey makes his way towards it. It’s over before he gets there, and sees a guy in his 40s with a bleeding nose, and Lip shaking out his fist, a security guard between them.

Mickey talks to the guard and defuses the situation, putting the bleeding man in the position of a sad overzealous fan. It somehow warms Lip to him, absurdly, and he finds himself apologized to, Lip shaking his hand and wincing when Mickey grips his bruised knuckles a little too hard. Lip vaguely explains that that was an old ex of Ian’s, a real piece of work, and then offers Mickey to come backstage with them to see Ian. Mickey declines.

It’s Lip, Carl and Debbie (Liam is too young, and Fiona too pregnant).

“I was drunk, and wrong, and when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong. (IT’S FROM DIRTY DANCING YOU LITERALLY FORGET EVERY TIME AND HAVE TO GOOGLE IT WHENEVER READING THIS NOTE should I really be quoting Baby’s dad in this fic? Probably. If anyone can, it’s Lip.) And Ian tells me you’ve been there for him a lot lately

I wouldn’t say that

But he did, he doesn’t tell me a lot these days, but he told me that.

Mickey gets another beer at the bar as people mill towards the merch and exit, he sits on a stool with an eye on the backstage passage. He watches the band come out to talk to some of the lingering fans and sign shit. Ian comes out and is immediately surrounded by fans, he locks eyes with Mickey across the room and Mickey raises his beer in a silent cheers. Ian comes up to him after a few minutes, he looks damp and exhilarated and unexpectedly nervous,

How was it?

Not bad, Gallagher.

he asks Mickey over. He has to pack up his shit and do the rounds, but he’ll be done in half an hour, tops. Mickey says he’ll meet him outside.

Ian leaves and Mickey finishes his beer, watching Ian talk to some fans, signing shit and taking pictures. He goes for a piss and then goes out for a smoke.

Ian comes out after twenty minutes, carrying two guitar cases and a large wheelie-bag. Mickey takes one of the guitars off his hands and they walk together.

(maybe Ian has a banjo and he gives it to Mickey to carry and Mickey is all really? I wanna kick your ass so bad right now, country boy, but then carries it anyway.) (banjos are cool)

Walk from the club. Mickey mentions talking to Lip. They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it) (Note from 2020: I DID NOT REMEMBER IT.)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

Ian tells him a little about his different instruments, Mickey picks up the beat up guitar Gus first gave to Ian and strums it, Ian asks him to play him something but Mickey snorts and says he’s counting on getting laid tonight and him playing would be detrimental to that plan. Ian doesn’t think so, but accepts it when Mickey gives him the guitar.

”I’ve walked some thousand miles,” he starts softly, eyes on his left hand, moving over the strings, ”I have slept many hundred nights, and people’ve said hello and bye through the years since you were mine. But don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue. Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser I cry for you.”

”Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie,” ”My darling boy, sweet old times, as long as I keep you in mind I will remember what love is like. So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue.”

”Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser.”

”I cry for you.”

I’M THINKING OF WRITING MY OWN SONG BECAUSE I WAS THIS MOMENT TO BE MORE BEFORE SUNSET THAN ANYTHING, ALL SMILES AND DRAMA FREE. SO MAYBE A TEXT THAT IS A LITTLE MORE STRAIGHTFORWARD.

Ian plays the song and when he’s done, Mickey kisses him and they have really enthusiastic sex on the couch. Mickey is about to leave after when Ian invites him to stay,

How about some long-ass foreplay on the couch and then they move into the bedroom.

They start on the couch, they take it to the bedroom, they collapse on the bed after and Mickey is feeling too good to argue when Ian mumbles at him to “stay”.

(Sings the song, says it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a song, it’s one quick thought put under a spotlight. Feeling like he should have known Mickey his whole life already. It’s too much, isn’t it? In the kitchen.

”do you normally take guys home and serenade them?”

”nah, don’t think it’d be very effective with most.”

”But you figured I’d swoon?”

”Figured you’d want the truth.”

”which is?”)

??? Need to find a good mix of excitement and new and easy, balanced with ho shit wtf are we doing this isn’t going to end well i think i fucking love him shut the fuck up. needs to be sexy and a little rough, as well as painfully sincere against better knowledge. kissing will do that. they’re doing stuff the way they usually do stuff, but for some reason it feels completely different.

Important that Mickey kisses him.

They stand up and stand chest to chest, Ian says they don’t have to do anything, Mickey says shut up and get naked

he helps ian take his shirt off and kisses him the second his face comes back into view

They fucks on the couch.

OR ALT FADE CUT END and don’t go explicit. Just saying, it’s an option. A valid option.

They can go at it in one of the sequels? Like the roadtrip can be more explicit? If I want? But also not?

I mean, there is such a thing as a nice middle ground right.

I just don’t think I’m interested in going all out porn after 40+ chapters of whatever.

THEY KISS AND THEN THERE’S A MOTHERFUCKING FADE TO BLACK MY FRIEND, BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I HAVE DECIDED. Soz

WHAT IF!!

Iggy comes in, is all: guess what I found at the dentist this morning?

M: again? Did Amelia break another tooth?

I: It’ll grow back, take a look at this

E: Did you steal that from the dentist’s office?

M: Rolling Stone, wtf?

E: your dentist’s got rolling stone?

Mickey reads the headlines out loud as a customer comes in and asks Etch about something they’ve lost the other day, and Etch starts rifling through boxes behind the counter as Mickey moves over to sit down in Ian’s booth, rifling through the magazine.

M: what am I looking for?

I: I marked the page

E: what’s this note?

Mickey starts reading the article, realizing that the blurred picture is of Ian, and the interview is with Ian, and holy shit. Ian is legit famous.

Etch starts reading the list of coffees, eventually turning the page over and pointing out that there’s a phone number.

Iggy comes to the diner in the morning, Etch is rifling through stuff behind the counter and Mickey is doing the rounds with the few guests still there after the morning rush.

Iggy shows him the magazine he found at the dentist’s and Etch is in the background like wtf is this, reading from Ian’s note with the coffee orders, Mickey only half listens, trying to take in the fact that Ian is fucking famous.

Etch says there’s a phone number too and Mickey brushes him off.

Then he’s like, hold the fuck up! And gets the note from the trash and tries the number, and Ian fucking answers. And they have the you’re famous conversation on the phone and voila, Mickey has his number and vice versa.

So Mickey calls Ian in the morning, then there’s text talk during the day.

From Ian

So, you’ve had my number for x days and you only now decided to use it?

That’s cold.

From Mickey

You wrote it on a piece of paper you then balled up and threw on the floor, asshole, it’s a miracle it didn’t end up in the trash. didn’t know I had it until this morning.

You suck at this. (This is a nice revelation that he likes, but Maybe that doesn’t come across in text.

Not a complaint btw, just gleeful observation.

From Ian

Are we still on?

From Mickey

Of course.

Dumbass.

Ian

I probably deserved that.

At some point Mickey starts capslocking and sending lyrics to Ian, who has to explain through text why he’s written songs about Mickey, saying that he’ll point them out tonight.

HERE’S A QUESTION

SHOULD I SKIP THE WHOLE “WRITING SONGS ABOUT MICKEY” BUSINESS??

Isn’t it enough that Ian is famous and kept this fact from Mickey? Isn’t the writing songs business a little creepy? and if he did write songs about Mickey, would he really publish them without Mickey’s consent? No. Maybe I’m deliriously tired and about to fall ill right now, but I actually think I should skip that part. It’s a little sad because it’s been part of this idea for three years, but if I’m uncertain about it now imagine how I’m going to feel about it later?

When I started writing this story, it was supposed to be a quick and silly thing, and now it’s something else. It’s not important or anything, but also it is. To me. And making a decision on the rating was a big deal for me, and I think this is another one of those things. I’ve been holding on to this idea for so long but when I really think about it, is it even romantic? It’s romantic in that kind of teenage dream way, maybe? It’s more romantic to me if they fall in love for reasons other than Ian writing songs. But he’s written NTW, and he still thinks about performing it live, but we skip the whole thing about songs being about Mickey.

So they talk on the phone in the morning, and then there’s a text coming in after a little while asking if Mickey wants to come to the show.

HEYHO IT’S A REVOLUTION AND I FEEL FREE

Mickey and Ian text after the show (after Mickey declines going backstage) Ian asks him to meet him round back in twenty minutes. When Mickey goes out there, he sees Ian talking to a couple of fans by the bus and Mickey hangs back to smoke while he waits. The fans leave and Ian looks around, checks his watch, he has a bunch of guitars with him.

I AM LEANING HEAVILY TOWARDS MICKEY KISSING IAN HERE. He’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters against the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

They’re in the elevator, then they’re in Ian’s apartment. Ian plays him the song, Before sunset ending.

almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

(almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

yeah, it’s not a very good song. is why we cut it from the record

oh yeah? thought it was ‘cause of the like, intensely personal subject

that too)

They smile at each other like fools and Mickey feels like he is exactly where he’s supposed to be, and there’s no rush. Fade to black.

Etch finds the paper, says there’s a phone number on it. Mickey dials the number and goes out back as it rings out. When Ian answers, he reads a question from the interview and they talk.

He goes back into the diner and basically blows the whole thing off, it doesn’t make any difference to him and he has to go back to work. Yevgeny does his homework and Iggy leaves, and Ian invites Mickey to the gig via text. Etch invites Yevgeny to stay over at theirs for a movie night.

Does Mickey tell Yev about the gig?

Start with Mickey out back, smoking. The phone rings and he waits for Etch to take it, but it keeps ringing. He bangs the door and yells PHONE and then it stops ringing. He kills the cigarette and goes back inside. Etch is behind the counter talking on the phone and going through the lost and found, looking for whatever the caller has lost. Mickey clears a table. It’s afternoon. Etch hangs up but keeps going through stuff in the box, talking to Mickey, when Iggy comes in.

It’s maybe more like afternoon (?) when Iggy comes in and shows Mickey the magazine. He calls Ian and they have a quick conversation (he probably goes outside to have it, to escape his audience) and they establish that Ian is sorta famous. Then they text back and forth a little, until Ian invites him to the show.

Mickey calls Svet to arrange it so Yev can stay with her, and then accepts. He goes home after work to eat, have a shower and change out of his clothes. He wears the only band tee he owns, mostly because it’s funny and because it’s kinda tight and he doesn’t think he looks too bad in it (and a dress shirt is way too much for a concert not-date, not that he tried on a couple first. Then he does a little bit of cyberstalking only to find very little personal information and a lot of crazy fans. Maybe he watches a couple of music videos, but they’re all really weird cartoons so they give him nothing. They’re cool though, and guess the music’s alright, even though he doesn’t have a connection yet to it so it’s hard to tell if he likes it.

Yevgeny calls, because Mickey switched the days and he wants to know why. Mickey asks if he knows about the Broken Bells, and Yev’s like duh who doesn’t? And freaks out when Mickey tells him about Ian. He doesn’t tell him about the whole date situation though, just that he’s going to the concert. Maybe Yev asks for some merch.

Mickey takes an Uber to the venue, even though it’s not too far from the diner (but on the other side, so at least a 30 minute walk) and it seems like they’ve already started letting people in. He hangs back until the admissions office is clear and then tells the lady that he’s on some kinda guest list. She can’t find him, and he’s about to give up and go home when he sees a familiar figure in the background. He calls her Stay-puft first, but then also remembers that her name is Anne and calls her that too. She remembers him, and finds him on a different (VIP) list, the venue staff woman is embarrassed, but Anne is borderline flirting she’s so nice about the mistake. Mickey gets a pass that he’s supposed to keep around his neck, but he shows it to the guards and then tucks it down his back pocket. Anne shows him inside the venue and asks if he wants to come backstage and say hello, but he kindly declines.

He has a quick peruse of the merch table (he checks the CDs, and then sees a smaller table next to the merch with a guy handing out pins, Mickey talks to him and finds out that it’s “fan club” pins to commemorate the gig and Mickey asks if his VIP pass gets him one, it does, and then the guy asks if Mickey wants to sign up for the newsletter) and then gets a beer, before finding a good spot on the mezzanine floor. He’s got a balcony railing for support and beer holder, and he’s got an excellent view of the stage. The floor is filling up with people packing themselves against the front. He texts Ian saying he’s here and they text a little back and forth. He gets someone to watch his spot and goes to the restroom. There, he finds a kid getting cornered by a middle-aged man. The kid looks vaguely familiar and not older than sixteen. Mickey steps in and casually accuses the guy of creeping on a kid and the guy immediately backs off, the kid says thanks and that he’s eighteen (because it’s an 18+ gig) and Mickey says sure.

Getting back to his spot, There is a douchebag on a date behind him that he wants to move away from, but he doesn’t want to surrender his good spot. He decides to tune him out, he’ll hopefully shut up once the set starts. It’s just a couple of minutes after eight when the lights dim and a song comes on louder than before, and the band start coming out on the stage. Ian is wearing jeans and a hoodie, like he normally does, but he’s clean shaven and his normally smiling face is set in blank determination. Anne is the front person, and she commands the audience with the slightest gesture. It’s obvious that the venue is filled with old fans, they all know exactly what to do exactly when she asks them to do it. Ian’s got like four guitars and a whole lot of other shit around him, and he’s super focused on doing his stuff, but now and then he does little routines with Anne and Jon, and gets a big cheer for his occasional solos.

A few songs in, Ian gets up to stand on one of the oil barrels, and Anne starts banging on it with a crowbar. That’s when Mickey starts to really get into it. It’s cool, and it’s a lot harder than Ian made it out to be, but kind of theatrical at the same time. Ian is brilliant, even though he dances like an uncoordinated stripper.

There is banter between the songs, mainly between Anne and Stran (girl sure bangs those drums!) Anne starts banging one of the oil barrels again and Ian and Jon do a little step dance next to each other across the scene.

At some point Ian takes off his hoodie. He’s wearing a white tank and he’s already sweating through it. He gives his guitar to Anne and puts on gloves. Him and Stran do a little bant-y thing and then they start a new song by both banging the barrels in unison while Anne and Jon start playing (maybe Jon plays something else, like an electric piano or a marimba?). At the crescendo of the song, Ian takes out a baseball bat and goes to town on the barrel, sweat shining on his muscly arms and his wet hair flopping down his forehead.

They go off the stage, but come back when the crowd chants a song, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Anne says they’ve got one more song for them, and they start playing. She moves away from the microphone and it looks for a second like Ian is going to step up and sing. Douchebag behind Mickey tells his date about an unreleased b-side to the last album. But then Ian steps back and says something to Stran, who nods and moves into a slightly different beat. Without blinking Anne, steps back up to the mic and sings the last song.

Some of the crowd lingers by the stage after the lights have gone back on, but most move towards the bar or the merch table. Mickey hangs back to watch the crew take down the stage, and the two oil barrels being handed over to someone in the audience, along with set lists and left-over picks. Walking down from the mezzanine floor to go look for the restrooms, a fight breaks out on the floor. Mickey immediately recognizes one of them as Lip and the other one as the creep from the bathroom, and intervenes by clearly positioning himself on Lip’s side and reminding the creep that he could get him in trouble, the creep backs off and agrees when Mickey tells the security guards it was an accident (in a way that isn’t obviously helpful, but in the end still makes sure that Lip isn’t hurt or arrested for punching a guy) (because he did, he punched a guy, who is thrown out by the guards after Mickey’s intervention). Lip, Carl, Debbie, and Liam is there, but it’s only Lip who knows who Mickey is. He hangs back to talk to Mickey while his siblings go backstage (and PROBABLY DOESN’T tell him a little bit about the guy being Ian’s ex, making it clear that Lip really doesn’t like him). He also apologizes to Mickey for last time. He asks if Mickey wants to go backstage, but Mickey declines. He’s decided earlier with Ian through text that he’ll wait for him and thinks it’s better to do it somewhere that isn’t backstage where he might get asked questions and have to talk to people who aren’t Ian.

He gets another beer and stands in the bar next to the merch, watching as Ian and the rest of the band come out to sign some stuff and shake hands. Ian still looks slightly damp from sweat, even though he’s obviously changed clothes and run a towel through his hair. Mickey wonders if his skin tastes like salt. He drinks his beer.

Ian comes up to him after a little while, asking well? (or texts him, which probably makes more sense? But I also want Mickey to see Ian post-show)

Not bad Gallagher, not bad at all.

Ian looks pleased and asks if Mickey wants to come over, even though Ian has an early morning. Mickey says yes and Ian asks him to wait until they’re done packing up.

Mickey finishes his beer, goes to the restroom (where he sees douchebag by the urinal) and then he goes outside to wait for Ian. (He talks to douchebag’s date and offers to get her a taxi before the guy comes out.) He smokes a cigarette, and before he knows it, Ian is by his side, carrying a fuck ton of guitars. They decide to walk, for some reason, talking on the way.

HEY

Ian says he’s got a car coming and they walk a little bit to where they’re getting picked up. They talk about trumpet lips and stuff and Mickey kisses him. They get interrupted by the car arriving, and Ian picks up his guitars and says “you coming?”

Fuck yes

They sit in silence in the car, but it’s a good one. Ian says

Lip told me what you did back there.

He didn’t tell you shit.

He did, told me you stepped in and stopped him from getting arrested

He was getting his ass kicked, someone had to help the guy

And Liam told me you got him out of a tough situation in the restroom

That was Liam? Some pedo’s creeping on a kid by the urinal, I’m not gonna stand by doing nothing.

You know that’s not what happened

Yeah, well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

He isn’t a pedo, and Lip would’ve beat the shit outta him if you hadn’t stepped in.

You defending this guy?

No, trying to say thanks.

You’re shit at it.

Thank you, Mickey

Better.

So… friend of yours.

No. (Ian isn’t forthcoming with the info)

Alright, whatever.

And he’s definitely not someone I wanna talk about, tonight.

(Ian is smiling at him, all the promise in the world in his eyes)

Fucking fair enough.

They arrive.

OR Ian joins Mickey outside and they stand around and talk

They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

That’s when a taxi pulls up and Ian walks toward it

Could use some help with these.

They ride in silence

They carry Ian’s instruments from the car, and Ian says something cute

Mickey’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters on the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

There he asks Ian to play him something that other people don’t get to hear (mostly to be a cheeky monkey, but also because he wants it) and Ian plays him None the wiser.

I’ve walked a thousand miles to end up in your corner booth

Grinning idiot when you bitch, falling fool for your dirty mouth

Sitting on my busy hands when you swagger by and I say -

Hey waiter, pour some coffee in my cup and bring me my toast, before you fuck me up

I’ve been in some thousand fights and it’s clear that so have you, too

Faded threats and cigarettes, sharp glass polished by the sea

Wish you’d put your hands on me and make your feelings clear

Hey waiter

meet me ‘round the back door, tell me I’ve got it wrong and fuck me up some more

‘Cause I’ve fallen a thousand times but never felt this way before, like I should have met you long ago

Walked with you by my side and had your back through thick and thin

Sickness and health, come what may, and I say-

Hey waiter

pop the damn champagne

None the wiser

you fuck me up again

Hey waiter

tell me you’ll be mine

I’ll give you my life

and fuck you up in kind

I wish I was just a plain white shirt

then you could wear me off to work

and I’d be one of the things you keep close to your heart

soft white cotton wrapped around your heart

(Contrasts have faded now

but color still haunt my mind

And words ripped off from their lines

Make bitter tears flood my eyes

Don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you)

Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie

My darling boy, sweet old times

As long as I keep you in mind

I will remember what love is like

So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you

’Cause I always say ’I love you’

when I mean ’turn out the light’

And I say ’let’s run away’

when I just mean ’stay the night’

But the words you want to hear

you will never hear from me

I’ll never say ’happy anniversary’

Never stay to say ’happy anniversary’

Bom-chaka bom-chak 23 verses

And he climbed up a mountain

And he looked around

Some kind of forest

With all these dinosaurs

And he stripped his woman

He stripped her bare

But there was a pterodactyl

There!

#Anonymous

21 notes · View notes

nancywheelxr · 7 years

Text

where the runawaway’s are running the night

"And it wasn’t in vain, three days after his flight arrived at LaGuardia and he already had wrapped everything up. Check out what was going on? Done. Crash a few meetings? Check. Beat up bad guys? Hell to the yeah. Buy useless tourist shit? He presents the “I love New York” shirt he’s wearing as exhibit A, your Honor.

So. All’s well when it ends well. The end. Finish. Fin. Hasta la vista. So long, until never.

Why is he still here, you ask?

Well, it’s not because of Roy. If he’s staying a day longer in New York that has nothing to do with the Titans Tower looming in the distance. Or the fact they’ve been out of town for the last couple of days. Or the rumours whispering they might be back sometime tomorrow morning.

Nope."

or, the one where Jason is in Manhattan with no ulterior motive at all, of course not; Roy is a true paragon of health, no matter what Dick says, no one should listen to Dick like, ever; and Wally is a terrible babysitter.

Jason is in Manhattan, sure, but it’s all business. Strictly business. There’s been chatter about Black Mask operatives making shady negotiations at the Big Apple and Jason, with his ultimate goal in life of fucking up and spiting the man as much as possible, followed.

And it wasn’t in vain, three days after his flight arrived at LaGuardia and he already had wrapped everything up. Check out what was going on? Done. Crash a few meetings? Check. Beat up bad guys? Hell to the yeah. Buy useless tourist shit? He presents the “I love New York” shirt he’s wearing as exhibit A, your Honor.

So. All’s well when it ends well. The end. Finish. Fin. Hasta la vista. So long, until never.

Why is he still here, you ask?

Nope.

Those are all separate things, yes, happening somewhat near each other. But that’s just coincidence, that’s just life. Shit happens.

And no, the lady doth does not protest too much, fuck you.

Anyway. It’s great, New York is great. He’s having a great time, he stopped two armed robberies on his way and nobody batted an eye. He’s having the time of his life here.

Case in point: someone broke into his newly secured safehouse. And this can only mean two things; either some of Black Mask’s minions came back to try and kick him out or some of Black Mask’s minions decided to crash there without knowing he had taken the place. Either way, Jason gets to kick some ass.

Great.

The door is closed but unlocked, so he goes for kicking it open, enters the living room with guns blazing and--

“What the fuck.”

It’s not Black Mask alright.

“Jaybird, finally!”

Roy Harper is once again standing in his living room and honestly, Jason has no idea how this keeps happening. But then again, the universe does seem to like to screw him over.

“What the fuck, Roy,” he says flatly, putting his gun down, “I could’ve shot you in the face. Jesus Christ, how did you even know I was here?”

“Hey, can’t a guy miss his best friend?” Roy doesn’t even blink at the idea of being shot. That’s just how fucked up their life is. “Besides, I have contacts, you know? I’m kind of a big deal now, nothing happens in this city without me knowing.”

Jason feels obligated to roll his eyes at that stupid grin. He mostly succeeds and it comes off only a little fond. “Sure, hotshot, whatever helps you sleep at night. So I’m assuming Dickface tattled on me?”

“Wally actually. Saw you by the docks last night,” he says, “but your lack of faith? I’m hurt.”

He’s sitting on the couch, in the process of shedding most of his gear, half his guns already on the table. Jason is kind of trying not to look up to where Roy is standing by the window because if he does, he might say something stupid like I missed you or your eyes look very green today and it’s making me dizzy. So instead he chooses to focus on something else, “wait, hold on. Weren’t the lot of you traipsing halfway across the globe?”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know about that,” Roy laughs, but it sounds a little strained, a little tired, a little off, “but sort of? Not all of us, anyway. Your dictator of a brother benched me.”

Jason actually laughs at that, but there’s still something nagging at him because Roy looks tired and his voice is strained and wary, “and Wally too? Damn, what did you explode this time?”

There’s a pause where Roy fidgets and squirms under his gaze. Now, Jason definitely worries. “Roy.”

“It’s nothing, okay? Dick’s just living up to his name.” Jason stops where he is tugging a knife from his left boot and glares until Roy finally breaks, “I swear to god, you bats! He thinks I have the plague so he left Kid Flash to babysit me!”

Jason wants to punch himself in the face. With a chair. Or maybe a brick.

Now that he’s paying attention he can see that the bags under his eyes are way too dark for his normal, his skin is too pale, his eyes too bright not to be running a fever. It’s so obvious, Jason can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.

“Roy, did you sneak out of the Tower in the middle of the night while sick?” he asks, already crossing the room and reaching to check for a fever, “stay still, idiot. What were you even thinking? Stay still.”

Roy swears, batting his hands away, “I’m fine, it’s just a cough. It’s fine.” That would probably have worked, sure. If that cough hadn’t chosen that moment to bubble up. It wracks his lungs until he’s doubling over and swaying unsteadily way too close to an open window.

Roy coughs and coughs and coughs, and Jason guides him gently to the ridiculously expensive couch, sitting him down. It makes his chest ache in sympathy, because damn, that sounds painful, and there isn’t much Jason can do, so he does what he can, he rubs his back in what he hopes is a soothing motion and holds his hair back, away from his face.

“Just a cough, right,” Jason scowls, because it’s better than let all the worry bleed into his eyes, “I can hear your lungs rattling everytime you breathe and you’re running a fever. How the fuck did you manage to sneak out? I’m killing West after this.”

“To be fair,” he rasps out, panting and trying to catch his breath, “I’m a genius.”

“Yeah, the dumbest genius I know,” Jason says, “come on, get up, we’re going to the hospital.”

“No,” Roy snaps, hands flying to grasp at Jason, trying to get him to stay there, “no hospitals. ‘m fine.”

“Roy. In our line of work, this could be anything from a nasty cold to some alien poison. You need to get this checked out.”

“Jaybird, you don’t understand,” he grimaces, “people’s been nagging for weeks. It’s driving me insane.”

“You’ve been like this for weeks?” Jason says, only mostly hysterical, so he counts it as a win, because he is going to have a stroke anytime now and it’s all going to be Roy’s fault, “that’s it. We’re leaving now and I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

“Okay, you clearly missed the point there, but get this: I’m fine. Seriously. Listen, I didn’t come here to-”

Whatever it is Roy’s about to say is lost to another coughing fit that leaves him with sweat on his forehead and panting out of breath. It’s worse than the last one, and when it’s finally over, he collapses against Jason, shivering and gasping.

The silence stretches on and on and on, like a rubber band about to snap, and Jason hates it, finds it unsettling, wrong, because Roy is never silent or still or quiet. “Man, this isn’t fine.”

A pause. Then a sigh, “look, I just need to sleep it off. It’ll be better in the morning. I swear.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Jason heaves a sigh of his own, he’s learned to pick his battles, “I’ll let you go the fuck to sleep now but I’ll call Dr.Thompkins first thing in the morning and we will do whatever she says. But if this gets worse during the night? We’re going straight to the hospital.”

Roy takes a moment to consider, but another cough passes his lips and well, he knows how to pick his battles too. “Fine. But just for the record? You suck.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry for caring, how horrible of me,” Jason gets up, helping Roy up and steering him to one of the bedrooms, “come on, up you go. Let’s get you to a real bed.”

“Fucking mother hens, all of you,” he grumbles, but gets under the covers, “I swear, is it a bat thing?”

“No, Roy,” Jason says, “it’s a love thing. Now sleep, you’ll feel better. Hopefully.”

He’s finished fretting over the blankets and is about to leave when a hand wraps around his wrist. “Stay?” And it’s so soft and quiet and vulnerable, and Roy is looking up at him with impossibly green eyes and so much hope and--

“Scoot over, but if you infect me with your germs, I’m literally kicking you out.”

Roy smiles, now that he’s laid down sleep is already clinging at the edges and turning it softer, and Jason lets him sink against his chest, shares body heat and comfort, even if his heart is squeezing painfully against his ribcage.

But his mind is still nagging at him, and he can’t sleep, can’t let go, so he asks quietly, “why did you come here?”

Eyes still closed, lips curled up, comes the reply, “needed to get out. Inside too long. Drivin’ me crazy.”

“Hm. Still, call me next time? I’ll come and get you. Should take better care of yourself. Sneaking out at 2am isn’t good. Idiot.”

When Roy doesn’t say anything else, Jason assumes he’s fallen asleep, but before he can say something embarrassing, “wanted to see you. Before you left. Wanted to say g’bye.”

“You’re an idiot, Roy.” Jason pokes him in the ribs, “but I missed you too. But never do anything like this ever again. Almost gave me a heart attack.”

There’s a quiet laugh and then Roy shifts, and Jason circles his arms around him without thinking, pressing him closer, close enough to feel the coughs wracking his body and the shivers they leave behind, but Roy hums pleased, so he lets it be.

The thing about New York is that there’s a reason people call it the city that never sleeps. Even here, on a penthouse at almost 3 in the morning, he can hear cars speeding by, sirens in the distance, loud voices walking below. They never closed the curtains, so the artificial lights from the building in the front cast shadows in Roy’s face, making him look paler, sicker, pained, and Jason worries and worries and worries.

He hates feeling helpless, hates seeing him like this, and Jason isn’t sure where they’re standing right now, what they are doing, what they are. It’s not- they’ve been walking in this tightrope, on the edge of something, but he isn’t sure, and Jason doesn’t know how to take a leap of faith; the stakes are too high, there’s too much to lose, and he can’t come up with a good enough contingency plan. Batman used to say you have to be prepared for everything, but how do you prepare for this?

So, there’s not much he can do, not tonight, not now, except take care of him as best as he can, because Roy is an idiot and Jason doesn’t trust the Titans to know how to handle this, can’t trust them to do this, not when they didn’t notice their patient hacking his lungs out sneaking out in the middle of the night, not when Roy’s phone has been silent the whole time. Clearly this new team of his is made out of morons, but then again, Jason should’ve known this, they’re being led by Dick “decided leaving Wally fucking West as a babysitter is a good idea” Grayson, after all.

Roy mumbles in his sleep, brows furrowing, so Jason pulls him closer, kisses his temple, whispers you’re gonna be fine and I’m here over and over like a mantra until the wrinkles on his forehead smoothen and his breathing evens out again.

Maybe in the morning everything will look better, and even if Jason can’t see his own phone from here, he has Dr.Thompkins on speed dial anyway and the nearest hospital is only five minutes away, less since he’s the one driving. So yeah, maybe it’s gonna be fine, he has to trust Roy to know if this is just a nasty cold, and if it isn’t, this is something he has a thousand contingency plans for.

With little else to do, Jason waits and hopes and worries.

part 1 ( x )

#jayroy #jayroy fic #jason todd #roy harper #batman #rhato #rhato fic #red hood #arsenal #speedy #dick grayson #wally west #sickfic #red hood and the outlaws #red hood/arsenal

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rockhoochie · 7 years

Text

No Apologies

(*Edit, previously titled “He Brings Me Sugar”)

Pairing: Dean/OFC

Warnings: Adult Content, Smut, Slow Burn, Somewhat Dubious Consent, Angst, Prescription Drug Abuse, Drinking, Knife play (very brief), Minor OC (sibling) Death, Language, Oral Sex (M/F receiving).

Summary: After losing her sister Anna to a demon, the Winchesters have taken Lexi under their wing. She studies and trains with them, tense friction quickly growing between her and Dean. When Sam and Castiel leave to take care of the demon that killed Anna without her, the levee of tension amidst Lexi and Dean breaks, flowing into something neither of them expected.

A/N: This is an edit of a fic I’ve posted previously. I meant to write a brief smutty one-shot and ended up developing the OFC a bit. Since the word count is 10K+, I decided to chapter it out. There may still be some errors, so please forgive me as I haven’t had this beta’d yet. Thank you for reading and as always, if you’d like to be tagged just send an ask!

**My work is not to be copied, altered, posted on other sites or otherwise used without my express written permission**

Chapter 3

I had been living with Sam and Dean for about six months no, ever since my life had been turned completely and insanely upside down. Ever since my house had been burned down by a demon. Ever since that same demon had possessed my sister Anna and made her snap her own neck…

It had just been Anna and me. Our parents were gone, killed in a car accident almost two years ago. Anna had resolved to stay home with me after our parents’ funeral. They had left the house to us in their will – rather than try to deal with selling it, we moved in. Although sometimes painful, living in our childhood home again, surrounded by our parents’ possessions and essence was comforting in its own bittersweet way.

Sam had been only halfway through the exorcism when Anna was killed. Dean had been holding me from behind as I simply cried and screamed for my sister. I watched, helpless and confused and terrified as the demon glared me with eyes black as obsidian. It cackled with Anna’s voice, and unceremoniously twisted her head almost the whole way around. The demon left her then, in a thick black vine of smoke that reeked of sulfur, and making the most wretched squealing sound I had ever heard. Dean’s grip loosened on me as her body hit the floor. I had run over to Anna and held her, stroking her hair as my tears fell into her open, dead eyes, not caring that the flames licking the walls were gaining more and more strength. Sam had yelled repeatedly at Dean to get me out; Dean had to coax and scream and pry me away from my little sister. He had dragged me out of the burning house – literally kicking and screaming – as I watched Sam pour a copious amount of rock salt over Anna’s corpse.

Once Dean had gotten us a safe distance away and Sam had run out of the burning house, everything I had left in me vanished as I collapsed on the street. The brothers stayed with me the entire time, through the police and fireman interrogations, through the paramedic examination. The EMT’s kept telling me how lucky I was. I kept silently telling them to go fuck themselves.

Once the fire was out and Anna’s body had been wheeled away, all I could do was tremble, and repeatedly ask Sam and Dean what hell happened, what’s going on, what was that thing. They tried their best to calm me and explain. My head swam along with my tears as they told me that monsters were real, that they were hunters – the kind of hunters that kill the things that everyone else dismissed as fairy tales. They told me were demons real, angels were too, but God had left the building…and vampires and werewolves and even dragons absolutely existed outside of nightmares. At first, I thought they were insane, or that everything that had happened had caused me to go off the deep end.

They took me to their car, a black ’67 Impala, and showed me the contents of the trunk. Guns, knives, bullets, a goddamn machete. Dean reached for and opened a leather-bound journal, and flipping the pages slowly as I peered at them. They were full of hand drawn pictures of awful creatures, of handwritten information about each one – what is was, where it came from, and how to kill it.

Despite the obvious proof, I maintained the position that either I was losing my mind or they were certifiable lunatics.

Deep down I knew it was all true - nothing else could explain it. The weight of accepting that truth crushed anything that remained of my heart that night.

That demon had destroyed the only home and family had left. The only thing I was able to walk away with were the clothes on my back and the necklace I wore – a heart-shaped silver pendant with a single diamond embedded near the top, a single silver angel wing decorating the right side, and the words “Big Sister” engraved in simple print. Anna had one that matched – the only difference was the angel wing on the left side, and the engraved phrase “Little Sister”. We had found them in our mother’s closet, already wrapped in Christmas paper, tucked away amongst other gifts and boxes. Mom had always called us her angels on earth.

One of the EMTs had slipped Anna’s necklace into my hand. I slid the pendant off the chain, and joined it with my own. I silently promised my sister retribution. Whatever it took, wherever I had to go, I was going to destroy the thing that murdered her or die trying.

When Sam asked me if I had someone to call or someone I could stay with, I had shaken my head ‘no’. I had some friends out of state I could’ve called, but I couldn’t even bring myself to consider leaving. I needed answers about what had happened to Anna, and I was hellbent on revenge. I had told them I’d get a hotel for now, but Sam said he didn’t feel comfortable just leaving me alone. That demon was still out there somewhere, and chances were it was going to come after me.

That night they brought me to the bunker.

I sat at the library table in silence, watching Dean unpack his gear while Sam got a room ready for me.

“Hey,” Dean had said, “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“Not hungry,” I mumbled.

“Not what I asked you.”

“I don’t know, sometime yesterday…”

Dean walked into the kitchen, leaving me to stare at the strange arsenal he had laid out in front of me - a sawed-off shotgun, several knives, bloody clothes and flasks – either full of holy water or whiskey.

He returned with a small plate and a fork, setting a piece of cherry pie in front of me.

“I’d rather have a drink,” I mumbled.

“Pie first.”

I cut a small piece, forcing myself to take one small bite after another until I finished it, trying to at least find some comfort in its sweetness. I licked the last of the thick filling off of my fork, and ran my finger along the sides of my lips to clean off any trace that may have remained.

When I looked up, I found Dean staring at me, his lips parted, his green eyes fixed on me.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is there some on my face?”

He blinked with a slight shake of his head and leaned back in his chair.

“No,” he said. “I just…I’m sorry for everything you went through tonight. I know how it is to lose family, and…”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Here,” he said, handing me a silver flask. “You can have that drink now”.

***

I had stayed in my room for three days after I got there, only leaving to use the bathroom. For the most part, Sam and Dean gave me my space. Sam would knock twice a day, come in and bring me food. Sometimes we would make small talk. Sometimes we would just sit there in silence, until he would put a movie on for me. He’d hold me while I cried, listen calmly when I screamed.

Dean had been present, but had kept himself fairly distant. On the morning of my third day at the bunker, I woke to find a pint of Jack Daniels and slice of cherry pie on my night stand. I knew that was from him. As great as Sam was about being attentive to my emotions, Dean knew what I didn’t know I really needed – sugar and booze. I washed down the pie with the whiskey, and spent the rest of the day getting blissfully drunk while watching old western movies.

On the fourth day, I finally came out of my room with a staggering hangover. That was the day I met Castiel, and experienced the glorious magic that was angelic healing. Cas had simply touched two fingers to my forehead, erasing the lingering physical pain I had from the night Anna died, healing the cuts and bruises covering my body. Even my hangover was gone. It was also the day I asked Sam and Dean to teach me everything they knew.

Sam read through lore and research with me, quizzing me on what the most common creatures were and how to kill them. He showed me the best places to look for the rare, odd things, and told me to who to call if I got stuck on something. I studied symbols, warding, summoning spells and credit card fraud. Sam was patient and warmhearted while he taught me, leading me to correct my own wrong answers and guiding me step-by-step as I practiced sketching Devil’s Traps. Sam quickly became like a big brother to me – that was the reason I picked him to take me to get the anti-possession tattoo on the back of my neck.

Dean led me in the more hands-on aspects of hunting. He taught me how to handle the guns, how to clean them, how to put them back together. He showed me the different bullets, the rock salt shells and the witch killers. He gave me a hunting knife, a lock-pick kit, and finally my own Glock.

We also spent time sparring, practicing hand to hand fighting. He never held back with me, saying that if I was going to have his or his little brother’s six, I’d better damn well know how to fight.

Dean was tough on me, critical, demanding perfection from everything he was trying to teach me. It only took about two weeks before started grating on each other. The more comfortable I got around him, the more he learned that not only could I take it, but I could dish it right back to him. That seemed to piss him off, and I found myself secretly enjoying it.

One particular day in the shooting range we really had it out. I was holding my Glock, trying to aim at the target and he would just not shut up. My stance was wrong, I wasn’t holding the gun the right way, what did I think this was, the goddamn movies? I finally cracked that day, screaming at him to get the fuck out of my face and back the hell off. I had stormed off, hiding myself in an archive room for the next several hours. When I finally returned to my room, there was a pint of Jack Daniels and a slice of pie sitting on my nightstand. By that time, I had learned how high pie was on Dean’s list of priorities. So, with a smile, I took the gesture as an apology and forgave him.

After a couple of months, I went out on some simple hunts with them – a spirit here, a poltergeist there. Sam was proud of me. Dean was impressed. I wanted to do more. Despite my insistence and protestations, they left me behind on the more difficult hunts - vampire nests, werewolf packs, things that hunted in twos, or anything demon-related.

Whenever they left me behind, I resigned myself to trying to track down the demon that killed Anna. I looked for patterns, strange sightings, any hint that the thing was still around. Sam and Dean tortured any demon they came across to get information before destroying or exoring them. Not one of them knew anything, or if they did, they weren’t talking. Dean had even summoned Crowley to interrogate him. After Crowley spent an eternity talking in circles and flirting with me, he insisted he knew nothing about my sister, or which one of his minions may have killed her. He did however, offer to make finding it out for me his top priority in exchange for my soul. Dean had cursed at him for that, charging at him with Ruby’s knife. Crowley vanished with a snap of his fingers before Dean could even get close to him.

I kept hunting, kept researching, kept hoping. I made it extremely clear to Sam and Dean that I was going to be the one to destroy that demon once it dared to show up again. They never protested, but never seemed too thrilled with the idea either.

It was comforting knowing I had people who had my back – hell, it was comforting to know that an actual angel had my back. Any time they left and hunted without me it filled me with dread. The Winchesters were the best at what they did, but if anything ever happened to them I’d be lost. I couldn’t imagine life without Sam, the brother I never had. I couldn’t even imagine life without Dean…the Dean I never had.

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[HM] Insert Quarter - Journey to Nostalgiatron

Insert Quarter - Journey to Nostalgiatron

CHAPTER ONE

“I’m gonna need that last Dragonball,” said an exhausted Goku. He was clutching at his scuffed up arm and hovering in the air over the smouldering crater that used to be New Chicago’s Optimus Prime Memorial Shopping Centre.

I fumbled around in my messenger bag, Pokemon Badge pins jingling as I searched. My prize wasn’t hard to find, it’s perfectly crystalline structure and impossibly smooth spherical face sang as my quivering fingers wrapped around it’s weighty shape.

“Goku!” I called out, thrusting the number four ‘ball into the air above me. “I’ve got it right here!”

I had just scrambled halfway up a broken radio mast next to the crater. Goku turned his head to look at me. His triceps were flaring, and his shoulder striations were insane. He saw the ‘ball in my outstretched hand and guffawed. He turned his floating body to face me, and, in slow motion, began reaching out a hand toward me. But it was too late.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to defeat me.” The voice was familiar. Stoic, distinctly American. Humble, but backed by so much power. A hand burst out from beneath a pile of dust and rubble, then suddenly there was a burst of light and a shockwave blew the rubble pile away. When the dust settled, a lone caped figure stood clad in blue, with chest pushed out and a red and yellow “S” emblem emblazoned on his breast.

It was Superman, obviously.

You’re probably wondering what the heck is going on. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Slater Johnson. I’m just a regular high school kid who likes to play videogames and shred it up on my skateboard. And, oh yeah, and I’m the prophesized chosen one who’s meant to guide all mankind during the coming apocalypse-war. But let’s backtrack.

The year was 2013. I’d just won first place in the all-state skate competition and my crush, Yvonne Christiansen, was there watching me finish out my last fakie bigspin into a wallride, which I landed perfectly. I knew that my last trick would’ve set me so far ahead of the other skaters that I had no chance of losing. I skidded to a stop in front of her in the crowd. She smiled at me. I threw my thumb and pinky finger up, gave it a shake, and pushed off toward the podium.

After the last competitor went, the points were tallied and the placements were being awarded. 3rd and 2nd were called, but then it was the big moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the mayor. “I’m proud to announce that your all time biggest and baddest winner of the all-state skate competition is..” My heart jumped. “Slater Johnson!”

The crowd went nuts. I gave my great looking hair a quick flip to keep the flow fresh, then sauntered up. I shook the mayor’s hand and stepped toward the trophy on the table. As soon as I set my hands on the gold plated winners cup, a sudden flash of light rushed out. There was a blast that threw me twenty, maybe even thirty feet away.

Long story short, all universes converged into ours. A portal opened up to the Sanctum (the place where I would later do all my martial training with Goku and Batman) and I was left standing there in front of Gandalf the White, who had also just appeared. He told me I was the Chosen One who was destined to save all mankind. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah right, geezer,” I effortlessly kicked up my skateboard into my hand and turned away. “I have to go to nationals now that I won state! Find someone else to do your prophecy, old timer.”

Gandalf didn’t look pleased. His brow was all kinds of furrowed, and he leaned forward on his eldritch stave. He closed his eyes and I could hear him mumbling just over the crackling hum of the Otherworld Portal.

“He’s the hero we need, but his reluctance to take the mantle worrying..”

At that moment, Yvonne, the hottest and most popular girl at the school (also my crush) came running up and hugged me. I was stunned.

“Oh Slater!” She said, through the tears. Just like all females, she was letting her emotions get the better of her. I didn’t blame her; this day had been nuts. I landed some fire tricks during the competition, and then also the whole universes thing was crazy, but I remained stoic and steadfast. I could feel her cans squeezing against my chest. Nice.

“Slater, I thought you were dead!” She looked up at me. “I was worried you would have died and we never even got a chance to be boyfriend and girlfriend!”

I tilted my head toward the horizon, the wind blowing my awesome hair softly. “Well, Yvonne,” I said, in gravelly tones. “After I turned down that whole chosen one thing just now, my schedule’s wide open. Wanna go to the mall sometime?”

“Like a date?” She asked, the sound of hope teased in that last escalated octave.

“Just like a date,” I said, turning to look at her. There was a halo’s glow emanating around her pretty face. It looked angelic, or like as if you turned on a spotlight right behind someone and then they obscured the light. Little did I know, in that moment, that this was the exact thing that was happening.

“So,” she said, wiping tears from her soft, girly cheeks. “I guess that makes me your girlfriend.”

The halo around her got brighter, and the sound of a gigantic transforming robot priming an arm-mounted serrated blade punctuated the tender moment. I smiled.

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it does make you my girlfriend now.”

And literally the moment I said that, a gigantic robot hand reached out from behind her and grabbed her by the torso, lifting her up. It was Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, and he ran her through with his armblade. It was super gory, and unnecessarily brutal. Chunks were going everywhere. She seemed like a really nice girl. Now that I think about it, nothing this gratuitously gory or violent would even come close to happening during my following adventures. Even with the whole shopping centre crater thing, it was at least implied at the time that the city had been evacuated.

The sight of my eviscerated girlfriend’s body, rent asunder by the almighty power of the Dark Emperor of Destruction and scattered limp across the ground filled me with rage. Skateboard in one hand, clenched fist in the other (my fist, not Yvonne’s severed hand which was also nearby), I cranked by head over my shoulder.

“Wizard,” I barked toward Gandalf. “I’ll do it.”

CHAPTER 2

After the whole beginning part of my journey had finished, it was on to the exciting stuff. A year had passed, but the world had irrevocably changed. Firstly, I was a senior, applying to colleges and just really hoping to make the best of my last school year, which was starting in a few days. Also, the city of New Chicago had sprung up in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A sprawling megalopolis, characterized by its crazy futuristic style buildings and towering towers, the city had become my new home in my quest to save mankind.

I grinded my hoverboard along the LightRail home after a long day of questing. Under my guidance, the Infinity Cabal had been scouring every swarthy hole and teetering precipice of New Chicago for the last Dragonball. We had six of them in our possession, which Goku was using to train with in the Sanctum. I liked to join him from time to time, sparring with him and Batman. They were worthy foes, and definitely tested my abilities. I count Goku as one of my best friends, and I’m grateful that he treats me just the same.

Life in New Chicago was rough. Gangs ruled the streets, which was fine by me because I skatejack the LightRails high aboveground, weaving in and out of the towers. Skatejacking is what you do when you jack your board onto the LightRails and skate it the hell up. It’s a super cool and dangerous way to get around the city, but the Infinity Cabal doesn’t mind. Being cool and dangerous is in our DNA.

Pulling around a long curve, I suddenly remembered where I was - rounding the corner of a building, the imposing frame of the Icecrown Citadel came into view. I knew that, on its mantel, Lich King Megatron was sitting on the Frozen Throne. An Undead horde shuffled around the packed-ice plaza at the base of the rock hard shaft. I could feel his cold gaze, piercing through me. I couldn’t see him from my great distance, but I knew he was looking. A feeling of dread washed over me. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest and a pressure building up within me. As the sensation crescendoed, and I continued skatejacking the LightRail, a building suddenly obscured the Icecrown Citadel from view. In that moment, I felt an immediate relief.

“Note to self,” I noted to myself. “Don’t stray too close to the Icecrown.”

After I recovered from my Heebie Jeebies, I kicked it into high gear and continued jacking to the extreme, all the way back to the hideout. I hopped off the rail and, flying through the air, grabbed onto a vertical pole, swinging around a corner and landing on my feet with my hoverboard in one hand. I flipped my sunglasses up onto my forehead and approached the 7/11 that was the front operation for our secret hideout. I filled up my Slurpee with Red Flavor Drink Type Slushed Ice Beverage and set it on the secret plinth that activates the hidden door, which then caused the entire wall to recess backward.The ten foot gear interchange system, now exposed by the wall’s recession, ground loudly and worked the clandestine door to the right. The stealthy process was slow, and shook most of the building. I took the time to snag a couple Buffalo Chicken Taquitos for the wait.

After only dozens of minutes, the hidden door was done churning open. I clambered over the rack trench, being careful not to get any limbs or digits caught in the pinion housing. While ducking underneath the input-shaft ports, I made sure to only utilize established handholds, clear of any hydraulic lines and out of the way of inner or outer tie-rods (which connected to the main assembly). Luckily for me, those handholds were delineated and painted in with Safety Yellow signage, so I knew just where to grasp. The rotary valve was still evacuating steam, so I was careful to note the times of discharge so as to duck through without being scalded.

After a close shave with a flailing pressure tube, I put both feet on the ground on the other side of the rack trench before letting go of the handholds. I patted myself down, realizing I forgot my hoverboard on the 7/11 side of the door and rack trench. I went back, got it, and returned to the hideout side, activating the quick release on the door which slammed the bolt catch roll pin out of place, allowing the takedown pin to fire the buffer spring and quickly haul the secret door back into place with a crash that shook the whole building. No one was the wiser.

“Slater!” Cried out a voice. I recognized it immediately. It was Ash Ketchum, The Very Best. He had his original style hat on, so you knew it was at least generation I or II. Ash was walking up to me, and Pikachu was bouncing around and being almost intolerably cute.

“Walk with me, Ash.” I said, hurrying down the corridor. I was jonesing for a bathroom break after those taquitos but all the single stall bathrooms were downstairs, and the stairwell was on the other side of the building. “How are the men?” I asked, as Ash got alongside.

“Well,” he closed his eyes and reached his arm over his shoulder and seemed to scratch the back of his own neck. It was a really annoying and over-the-top gesture. “I guess some of the guys are a little tired after all our recent questing and training! They sure could use a break.”

I handed Pikachu the rest of my Buffalo Chicken Taquito. “Well,” I grumbled. “You know who doesn’t get tired? Our enemy.” It was true, too. The NecroLeague of Doom seemed to have an infinite supply of energy. Their forces were many, and their plots dastardly. A complete roster of their troops is attached to this novel as ADDENDUM A, but a short-list is featured below.

Lich King Megatron (Combination of The Lich King and also Megatron)

Sinbad the Sailor (Popeye version)

Darth Vader

Hitler 2.0 (Basically also Darth Vader)

Bowser from Super Mario

Sauron

Frieza

Harvey Weinstein CBE (The Weinstein Company)

Lich King Megatron was their leader. He summited the Icecrown Citadel in search of Shia LeBoeuf’s grandfather’s eyeglasses, for whatever reason, but found only Bolvar Fordragon, wearing the helm and mantle of the Lich King. Encased in fel-ice, Fordragon didn’t stand a chance against the unbridled power of Megatron. In a less gruesome display than when he murdered my girlfriend (which was so brutal that I decided to accept my fate as awesome hero of the world), Megatron destroyed Fordragon and took the helmet for himself. He then became the new Lich King and would become unstoppable. Except I was going to stop him for sure.

Ash complimented me on my hair and cool moves. He also let me know he was having a few friends over for a birthday party next weekend, and I said I’d be down. I’m very thankful to have so many people who are friends with me and enjoy my various insights and jokes. I figured I’d go to his party since they all came to my surf competition last week (I won first place).

Ash told me that the boys were meeting in the Meeting Chamber and that I should get up there as quick as I could. Time was running out, so I powered my way up the stairs, kicking it into high gear and even taking them two at a time. I wasn’t even using the railing, just balancing myself as I throttled up.

I was taking it right to the edge, almost at my breaking point, when the last couple steps were in sight. With one last, desperate burst of raw power and energy I threw myself forward into the air and up three full steps. I landed with one foot on the precipice of the landing, and my center of mass teetered over my central axis. I repositioned my arms out in front of me, using them as a kind of ballast, and bent at the knees and lower back. With one last effort, I thrust my hips forward and settled myself fully. Mission accomplished.

“Nice moves,” said Kanye West. He was wearing the coolest sneakers you’ve ever seen.

“Thanks Kanye,” I said to Kanye. “All in a day’s work. What’s the situation?”

“I’m glad you asked,” said Kanye as he stood up and gestured to the viewscreen (basically just a TV). “LKM’s forces are on the move. He’s set up defenses here, here and here.” Kanye was gesturing to the huge TV (the viewscreen) at anywhere between two and four points on the New Chicago map. I squinted my eyes.

“Wait a second,” I commanded. “Computer!”

The lights around the edge of the display (viewscreen, or “teevee” as some call it) lit up and a gentle chime hummed.

“Draw lines between each of those points.”

“Okay,” said COM.P.U.T.er. “I’m drawing lines between each of the points on the map of New Chicago.”

Slowly, an eerie red pillar extended out from each of the points toward the direction of another. It was like a spider’s web of lines extending, except not as many as that. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. A terrifying shape began to form. My jaw dropped.

“My god,” I said. “It’s a --”

“It’s a triangram,” said a breathy, incredulous voice with an english accent. The voice seemed to come from the ground somewhere. I looked around, then craned my neck and head forward, angling it toward the floor. Scouring that lower altitude in such a fashion was a strategy that bore fruit - there, at my feet, stooped Peter Dinklage. I called down to him.

“Peter!” I cupped one hand around my mouth so as to help project my voice downard. “What do you know of triangrams?”

He looked all the way up toward the heaven - up toward me. He was speaking again, but I could not hear. I bent down, descending from on high. His impish words became audible.

“Triangrams are a kind of runic, sacred shape produced by the culmination of no less than 3 points, except also no more than that either.” He looked back up toward the viewscreen. “They were used in pagan times as a cheaper and more cost effective version of the pentagram. The pagans of the time realized that something with five sides looks close enough to something with three if you just squint.” At this point, Peter reached both his arms out as if to behold the might of some vista or wondrous architecture. He squinted hard. “It is, as the Romans said, duabus partibus occultus...”

He dropped his arms back down to his side, formed a kind of grim countenance and threw his grim gaze up toward me. “The Two Secret Sides!”

I gasped. It made sense. Pentagrams have five sides and triangrams only had three! That was a difference of two. The implication being two other sides, invisible to the naked eye, hidden within the triangram. This revelation was totally nuts and I didn’t expect it.

Obviously I was worried about the sudden appearance of a triangram in New Chicago, but with school starting tomorrow, I had enough on my plate. I hit up Old Navy to put together a fire fit for the first day.

CHAPTER 3 In Progress

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bigwheelblading · 6 years

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Rob Dargiewicz is a 36-year-old aggressive inline skater from Derby, Connecticut. Two years ago he also added distance skating to his blading arsenal. This year he won the 2018 Big Wheel Challenge skating 2,364.52 miles.

What year did you start skating? How did you get into skating?

It was probably around ‘92 or ‘93 when I first put skates on at the local roller rink. By the second lap, I was launching off the ramps that go from the floor to the carpeted area. They also had a race where the DJ cut the music and everybody lined up and did three laps and I won that. Multi-disciplined since day one!

I spent every Saturday night for the next few years at Roller Magic. In 1994 I started going to CT Bike on Friday nights. It’s an indoor skatepark that’s still there today. There was a thriving hardcore scene back then and they had shows at the park. I was 12 –years-old shredding the vert ramp with the older skateboarders while Hatebreed played in the mini. Those were great memories.

How long have you been distance skating?

I started skating almost two years ago.

What made you want to start skating distance?

At the end of 2015 I got sober. I spent a good part of the previous 5 years struggling with alcoholism and everything that goes along with it; jail, losing friends, feeling sick ALL the time, depression etc.. Once I got clean and started to feel human again, early morning solo trips to the skatepark and distance running became my personal AA meetings.

In 2017 I got my first taste of big wheels on some Trimax UFS frames. As soon as I felt the combination of smoothness and speed that the larger wheel size afforded I knew I had found my new passion. Big Wheel Blading was everything I loved about running but I was able to go super fast with skates on my feet. I was hooked.

Were there any skaters at the beginning of your distance skating that you enjoyed watching or motivated you?

Slo-Mo. That guy gets it.

How competitive are you?

I pride myself on my work ethic and always do the best I can at whatever I’m doing. I’m constantly looking for ways to progress so I guess that makes me pretty competitive.

How had your approach to distance skating matured since you began?

Hopefully distance skating is something that will be with me for a long time so I feel like I am just beginning. There are so many techniques to master, muscles to develop, equipment to try, events to attend, and so much I can learn from other people. I knew that going in so I’m just going to keep on that steady path of progression.

How did you find the time to skate so many miles in 2018?

If you love something and you’re having fun you make time for it.

What’s was your daily skate regiment like?

A typical day starts around 5:30 am with about 10 hours of manual labor outside to warm up. As soon as I get home I kick off the work boots and go running anywhere from 4-12 miles. After that I would try to get in 10-20 miles on my skates unless it was Wednesday in which case I’d be shredding whatever park we picked that week for Wednesday Night Skate. There were days with more or less miles but that was an average weekday.

What was your original mileage goal when the year started and did you achieve it?

I didn’t really have a goal but at some point I thought it would be cool to get at least as many miles as the distance from coast to coast across America and I accomplished that.

What were the most challenging moments for you this year?

Trying to spread my time between multiple athletic endeavors and work full time was the hardest thing for me. I ran 3 half-marathons and the full NYC Marathon. I trained hard for those races all year separately from skating all those miles. On top of that I’ve been out in the streets filming with the world famous Tallboyz crew.

Rob has been running marathons as well.

Did you suffer any injuries?

I had to deal with a broken wrist and bursitis in my hip but nothing from distance aside from some blisters and sore muscles. If anything I would feel beat up from work or a slam I took, go for a mellow skate on the trail and feel a little better.

What is your weekly training regiment, workout / skate schedule?

Weekdays are for work, mellow sessions, and shorter distances. Weekends are for street skating, filming, and longer skates/runs.

Have you changed lifestyle at all with your training?

Self improvement has been a major component of my lifestyle for the past few years so I guess you could say the training fits right into that.

What kind of diet are you on?

Nothing too strict. The only things I avoid completely are fast food, soda, and energy drinks. When you burn as many calories as I do you have to eat a lot so I just try to make smarter choices when it comes to food. Everyone’s body is different. Over time you learn what slows you down and what keeps you going. For instance, eggs are a great source of protein but they give me the bubble guts. Ice cream isn’t great for you but I’ve consumed it every day since I’ve been sober without a problem. I know my body but I’m always learning.

What snacks / food do you eat before, during and after skating? What do you use to hydrate when skating? How much water do you drink on your long skates?

My favorite thing before a long skate is oatmeal with almond butter, bananas, and berries. Anything over 30 miles I’d have granola bars in my pockets, Haribo gummy bears, almonds, and plenty of vitamin THC. For water I always carry a bottle with me and filled it up when I could. It’s very important to know where the water spot is on long skates. Also chocolate almond milk was great for recovery when I was completely wiped out.

How has skating distance affected how much you aggressive skate?

I’m happy to say it hasn’t negatively affected how much aggressive skating I do at all. 2018 was a great year for skating especially here in Connecticut. We’ve had multiple park upgrades, new skaters, people coming back; if anything I’ve been skating more.

Rob pulling a top acid on the hand rail.

Rob lacing a kindgrind.

Has skating on big wheels and doing distance, had any benefit to your aggressive skating or changed the way you approach tricks in aggressive skating?

It has quite literally changed the way I approach tricks; I always want to be going fast! Even when we’re skating a ledge spot, I prefer to come in hot from halfway down the block. I love finding spots where I can incorporate the double push on the approach.

Did you ever imagine growing up skating that you would be skating thousands of miles in a year?

Never! I skated everywhere when I was a kid and I rode anti-rocker so I hated it! I would destroy wheels just getting to the spot. I always knew I would keep skating but never pictured myself doing what I’m doing now.

Where there any months you skated less then others?

Running took up most of my time in September and October leading up to the NYC marathon. I cut my miles but still skated almost everyday.

How do you handle cold weather skating? What gear do you wear when the temperature dips?

I had one of my scariest skate experiences recently because of the cold. It was 6 degrees Fahrenheit and I was bundled up pretty good. Even had on 2 pairs of leggings. This proved insufficient against the constant 20 mph headwind. I got about 3 miles up the trail and started to feel the pain. I immediately skated back to my truck and spent the next 15 minutes in a terrifying amount of agony. That was the day I learned about penile frostbite and why you need to wear 3 socks on really cold days.

What moments were you proudest achievements in your skating in 2018?

Winning the Big Wheel Blading Challenge was awesome but I’m just really proud of the fact that I’m still skating at all, let alone at the level I am. I absolutely hate hearing the phrase “I used to skate”.

Rob on his distance blades.

Milford Beach Daily Skate Route

What is the furthest you’ve skated in a day?

I had done a few 50-70 mile skates but a week after I ran the marathon I decided to go out and do 100 miles in a day. I did 85 on the trail before it got dark. I got the remaining 15 by shredding around downtown New Haven and then bombing a hill to finish off. It was rad.

Did you have to mentally prepare yourself for skating everyday?

No, I have to skate to mentally prepare myself for everyday.

What is your favorite place / route to skate?

I like the Farmington River Rail Trail for long skates but most of my daily routes were on the roads along the beach in Milford, CT.

What skates, frames, bearings and wheels did you use during 2018?

Powerslide Swell with the 10” aluminum Trinity frame, 125mm UC wheels and whatever bearings I had laying around.

What are you skating goals going into 2019?

First things first – I’m going to finish filming for the Tallboyz video and start on the next project. Then I’m going to quit my job and get paid to rollerblade. I’m going to skate in the North Shore Marathon, NYC 100km skate marathon, WYII, New England Blade & Camp, BPSO, Berlin Marathon, Athens to Atlanta, and the 24 Hours of Le Mans. I’m going to skate 10,000 miles and win the X-Games. I’m sure I’ll narrow that list down but in the meantime I’m just happy to stay healthy and keep skating.

Skating all those miles paid off with a sweet prize package!

Rob holding his prizes.

Thanks to our sponsors for their prizes for 1st place.

The Sponsors

Thank you Rollerblade, Sonic Sports, Hypatia Extracts, Oysius and Rudy New York for sponsoring the 2018 Big Wheel Challenge.

Join the 2019 Challenge!

To find out more information about how to join the 2019 Big Wheel Challenge and the 2018 Inline Skate Challenge on Endomondo click here. From Aggressive to Distance: An Interview with Rob Dargiewicz, the 2018 Big Wheel Challenge Winner Rob Dargiewicz is a 36-year-old aggressive inline skater from Derby, Connecticut. Two years ago he also added distance skating to his blading arsenal.

#2018 Big Wheel Challenge #Big Wheel Challenge #Connecticut #CT Bike #Derby #Rob Dargiewicz #Roller Magic #Slo-Mo #Tallboyz

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bigwheelblading · 6 years

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What year did you start skating? How did you get into skating?

How long have you been distance skating?

I started skating almost two years ago.

What made you want to start skating distance?

Catching air on his big wheel blades at the Milford, CT Skate Park.

Were there any skaters at the beginning of your distance skating that you enjoyed watching or motivated you?

Slo-Mo. That guy gets it.

How competitive are you?

I pride myself on my work ethic and always do the best I can at whatever I’m doing. I’m constantly looking for ways to progress so I guess that makes me pretty competitive.

How had your approach to distance skating matured since you began?

How did you find the time to skate so many miles in 2018?

If you love something and you’re having fun you make time for it.

What’s was your daily skate regiment like?

What was your original mileage goal when the year started and did you achieve it?

I didn’t really have a goal but at some point I thought it would be cool to get at least as many miles as the distance from coast to coast across America and I accomplished that.

What were the most challenging moments for you this year?

Rob has been running marathons as well.

Did you suffer any injuries?

What is your weekly training regiment, workout / skate schedule?

Weekdays are for work, mellow sessions, and shorter distances. Weekends are for street skating, filming, and longer skates/runs.

Have you changed lifestyle at all with your training?

Self improvement has been a major component of my lifestyle for the past few years so I guess you could say the training fits right into that.

What kind of diet are you on?

What snacks / food do you eat before, during and after skating? What do you use to hydrate when skating? How much water do you drink on your long skates?

How has skating distance affected how much you aggressive skate?

Rob pulling a top acid on the hand rail.

Rob lacing a kindgrind.

Has skating on big wheels and doing distance, had any benefit to your aggressive skating or changed the way you approach tricks in aggressive skating?

Did you ever imagine growing up skating that you would be skating thousands of miles in a year?

Where there any months you skated less then others?

Running took up most of my time in September and October leading up to the NYC marathon. I cut my miles but still skated almost everyday.

How do you handle cold weather skating? What gear do you wear when the temperature dips?

What moments were you proudest achievements in your skating in 2018?

Rob on his distance blades.

Milford Beach Daily Skate Route

What is the furthest you’ve skated in a day?

Did you have to mentally prepare yourself for skating everyday?

No, I have to skate to mentally prepare myself for everyday.

What is your favorite place / route to skate?

I like the Farmington River Rail Trail for long skates but most of my daily routes were on the roads along the beach in Milford, CT.

What skates, frames, bearings and wheels did you use during 2018?

Powerslide Swell with the 10” aluminum Trinity frame, 125mm UC wheels and whatever bearings I had laying around.

What are you skating goals going into 2019?

Skating all those miles paid off with a sweet prize package!

Rob holding his prizes.

Thanks to our sponsors for their prizes for 1st place.

The Sponsors

Thank you Rollerblade, Sonic Sports, Hypatia Extracts, Oysius and Rudy New York for sponsoring the 2018 Big Wheel Challenge.

Join the 2019 Challenge!

#2018 Big Wheel Challenge #Big Wheel Challenge #Connecticut #CT Bike #Derby #Rob Dargiewicz #Roller Magic #Slo-Mo #Tallboyz

0 notes