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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

Right now i don’t know if i want to kiss you or shove you off this building

Part 1 | Part 2(end)

A/N: I have no words really, just i needed to get this off my chest and i wrote it so quickly that part 2 is probably going to be out by the end of the week.

genre: fluff (x100), University! au/ College!au

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost or reblog

Stealing is a crime please do not steal, i do not cross post anywhere else only Tumblr

Pairing: J-Hope x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Word count: 4,000 words

Warnings: i'm still bad at writing fluff but here we go (i cried a lot inside whilst writing it)

There are few times in someone’s life when they would have to rush out of the house in the middle of the night. Most times, it involved an emergency of some sorts.The usual A&E rush, the cravings rush and most important of them all, the all nighter in the library rush.

You have been debating for over an hour now if you should make a dash to the library. Your exhausted body screaming at you to just curl up into a ball and sleep- or cry, whichever came first. However your consciousness, and the fact that your anxiety was at an all time high, was telling you to just suck it up and go get your books from the library. That coupled with your approaching deadline. And to be honest you knew exactly what you would end up doing. After all, your grades could not afford to take a fall. Not worse than what they’ve dropped to now. Anymore and you would flunk the year completely.

But do you really need that book? Your brain tried it’s last card on you. You could technically just stay in, bury yourself in your blankets like the Michelin man, and write your essay that way. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes and got up grabbing your prized pen, the one that got you through your first and second year of exams, a couple of pieces of paper just in case, and your laptop. A trek to the library it is.

The spring air was doing a good job of waking you up. The light breeze, warm enough to not make you die of cold, but cold enough to cool down your tired flushed face. The 10 minutes it took to walk from your accommodation to the library was enough for you to steel yourself against an all nighter of studying.

What you had expected when you went in was anything but a packed library with students quietly studying. The noises of scratching pens and the rhythmic click-clacking of keyboards creating a mellow background noise. Some were dozing off, and you could not blame them, but holy hell could they not have done that at home? Okay, maybe you were judging, but could anyone blame you? You were desperate for a space and by the looks of the rows of heads between the shelves, there was a slim chance you would actually get a seat somewhere. If needed, you knew you could just crouch in between the shelves near the section that housed the maps, but you did not feel like inhaling dust and sporting a cramped leg for the rest of the night.

“Oh come on! This is a big library, there must be a seat somewhere” you whispered to yourself quietly, your eyes scanning the 3rd floor of the library. Aha! There. By the will of the gods, there was a seat, a lone corner at a table that was packed to the brim. You hastily made your way before anyone could spring out of nowhere and claim it, and slammed your butt down on the seat sighing in satisfaction. You’d made it. The first task done. Proud of yourself, you opened up your laptop and pulled the document you had been writing on. The bold letters at the top stating you NEEDED to get that specific book. A harsh reminder that the second task now would be even more difficult. Hunting for a book in this mammoth of a place. But what if you lost your spot? You needed your laptop to search for the book and to be honest you did not trust your laptop to not be stolen. You groaned to yourself, once again debating whether or not you needed the book

You finally decided that the book was non-negotiable and so you quickly grabbed your pen, with the promise to yourself that you would not get lost in the maze of shelves and interesting literature. Hastily writing a ‘will be back’ note, you slammed the pen down on top of the paper and rushed out of your seat.

The library atmosphere was quiet, despite the space being full of poor students who were rushing to meet a deadline or had exams coming up soon. Perusing the shelves, taking note of names that may interest you further on in your degree or even just as personal pleasure, you basked in the quietness and the dimness of the space. You loved the library at night, sure, but not when you were in a rush to finish a paper and not when exam and deadlines season pushed everyone and their mother to cram themselves in the space like sardines. Overall though, the space was dark and quiet just as you liked it.

Finally arriving at the area that was of interest to you, you stood in front of the row of shelves, a slow grin forming on your face. It was perfect, 4 rows of untouched literature. And you had all the time in the world.

Except...you didn’t. “Fuck” you cursed to yourself. You knew you did not have the time and you promised yourself you would not do this. Looking down at your watch, you let out another curse. “Fuck”. It had taken you half an hour to get here, the digital face of your watch showing 12.30am. “Oh man, I did it again” muttering to yourself, you turned your back towards the interesting titles that were calling your name and focused on the one book you actually needed.

Only to not find it on the shelf. Just your luck. “What am i supposed to do now?” dejectedly sighing you slowly made your way back to your seat. All you could think about was the missing book on the shelf.

How were you supposed to be finishing your paper now? Suddenly the quiet and calm atmosphere became gloomy and dark, this was not going very well for you. So lost in your thought you almost walked by your spot. Stopping right on time you looked to the side only to do a double take. It was not your spot anymore, the leather jacket as well as the mop of dark hair that could be seen occupying the seat was definitely not you. You double checked the area making sure you did not stray away again and somehow landed in the wrong spot but no. That was definitely the desk you had placed your note on.

It was just missing the note and seating another person now. Today was definitely not your day. The last thing you wanted to do at this time of the night, especially when you were in a hurry to finish and hand in your paper, was to be civil. But that was your seat. You refused to slouch in between the shelves and cram a seven thousand word paper tonight. You’ve done it enough times in the past for your bum and back to already be screaming at you in protest. Taking a deep breath in, you steeled yourself and approached the seat stealer.

The closer you got, the better the view of the seat stealer. Goddamn they were handsome. At least the side profile was something to enjoy looking at, but that did not change the fact that they had stolen your seat and were comfortably spread out onto the desk casually typing away at their laptop.

To top it all off, as if the scene was not enough to taunt your nerves, they were humming quietly to the beat that you could faintly hear coming from their headphones. And if you were to admit it to yourself, which you would not, they were very good at said humming.

“Uhm...excuse me” your voice cracked, having not been used for a couple of hours. You could not afford to seem meek in front of them, cute as hell and a great hummer be damned, they would not get the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. Truth be told, you hated confrontation. It was the last thing you resorted to under normal circumstances, let alone now when you were tired and stressed. Standing up straighter you tried again, “Excuse me!”

They made no move to acknowledge you or your shadow that cast now over the desk, as if you were both one and the same. Frustrated, you let out a huff and reached out to tap their shoulder. However, as if the fates had it out for you today, the humming seat stealer also came to life, moving his head towards your outstretched hand as they went to grab for their notebook and pen. That motion combined with yours caused a painful collision for the both of you. As it had not gotten a chance to change trajectory towards their shoulder, your unprepared hand bent awkwardly as it made contact with the side of the person’s head. A loud “oh fuck” chorused from the both of you, as both parties retracted as if burnt. Had you mentioned it was not your day?

“Is there a reason why I’m being assaulted at...1am on a Tuesday in the library?”. the seat stealer asked as he turned around to face you completely. He finally had a voice as well, and it was just as nice as the humming. Scrunching your nose in annoyance, you took a deep breath in prepared to tell him off. Not only was HE the one assaulting your hand but also your well deserved seat. Only to do the stereotypical double take. The mop of hair hid a very handsome face. High cheekbones and a pointed nose, your eyes trailed further down to his long neck and toned body. “Uh…” the stranger, seat stealer muttered, his hand going to scratch awkwardly at his long neck. Your brain agreed, “Uh…” you smartly copied snapping your eyes back at the face. You had clearly been caught staring judging by the smug smirk the person had on their face. Not only that but you had managed in a few minutes to smack a total stranger and display copious amounts of intelligence whilst trying your hand at a smart rebuttal to their question.

“So, now that I have your attention. Care to tell me why you are assaulting me at 1am on a Tuesday?” The tone of voice was less alarmed, more amused now. As if he clearly found your embarrassment entertaining.

“Assault? I have not assaulted you….you seat stealer!” You furiously exclaimed only to be interrupted by an equally stressed out fellow student“, Keep it down”. Only then did you become aware of the situation you are in. Three other rows of desks near the one you were currently at, and each of them seated a student who, like you, probably either had exams or deadlines. They were sleep deprived, hungry, and probably had too much caffeine running through their blood for their own good. And they were all focused on your form. To embarrass you further, the seat stealer even had the audacity to smugly smile and whisper “yeah, shhhhh.”

Getting redder by the minute, whether in mortification at being told off by the student a few rows away from you or from increasing anger at the seat stealer, you bent down, eyes narrowed “you….you...shush, and whilst you are at it, get out of my seat, you seat stealer”. You were unsure whether your shouted whisper would sound menacing enough to convey the mixture of emotions running through your veins at the moment. The stranger’s smug smile dropped instantly, a look of confusion replacing it, “seat stealer? What is that about?”

“You stole my seat!”

“I did not. The seat was free. If you passed by it, it was free and you didn’t sit down or leave your stuff on the chair; it doesn't automatically make it yours.” The stranger shrugged carefully, studying your expressions. What he saw must have really amused him because he started snickering to himself. Getting redder by the minute your rebuttal was weak, if only you’d have thought about it beforehand.

“I only have my laptop on me! And I left a note and my precious pen on the desk! A note which you have thrown out to steal my seat.” That is when it all went downhill. “you ‘strange seat stealer’!” the snickers coming from the handsome man got even more violent, to the point of you worrying about him choking- had you not been angry at him you would have asked if he was ok. Unfortunately, you were angry and nothing he did could have solved that.

The stranger abruptly stood up, so close to your face that you could see the numerous lashes that shadowed his dark eyes, amusement still plastered onto his face. He grabbed your elbow lightly, giving you a chance to break free if needed, but you were so stunned by his actions that all you could do was question how handsome his angular face was. “You’re cute, and that was a smart, if odd, alliteration you made there” He breathed, the action making a stray strand of hair blow away from your face, “but we’re making a scene”.

“Wh-” before you could process what he’d said, he trailed his hand from your elbow to your own hand and lightly gripped it with the intention of moving you away. The sudden jolt sprung your brain back to life and you tried fruitlessly to pull your hand away from his grip. Unfortunately, your brain decided to work a bit too late, as you were already past the rows of desks and shelves of books, closer to the lift lobby on that floor. “I am not making a scene, you are making a scene. Who are you to get me away from my seat not only once, but twice?!” Your feet firmly planted on the ground and finally got the stranger to stop. “I don’t know who you are” as he made a move to talk, you interrupted “and I don’t care, I saw that seat first, left a note on it to say I was going to be back and you stole it! I need the space!”

“Why?” The stranger calmly asked. His face showed no signs of anger or frustration, and it seemed like it belonged like that, serene and peaceful. And it made you wonder if anything could ever anger this man. Sure, you did not know him but you had been yelling in his face for the past minute. His demeanour and question threw you off so much so that your brain once again hiccuped.

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean why do you NEED the space, it’s clear that you do not have a bag or any belongings for that matter.” He gave you a once over to emphasize his words, his calm eyes lingering a bit too long on your form for your anger to continue overriding the flustered mess that you had become. “I- I do!” You don’t know why you needed to prove yourself to him, but it was a valid question he’d asked. So, you showed him the arm he was not holding, that carried a laptop. Realising he was still holding onto your hand, the sudden thought made you suddenly hot and clammy and before he could do anything about it you pulled it out of his warm hold.

Trying to ignore the loss of warmth the contact brought you, you looked away flustered.

“This cannot be happening. Look, I sat down there first, I put a note down because I needed to go find a book for my essay and….oh god...it’s due in like…..five hours”. Not looking at him the entire time you explained your situation to him, frustration and anxiety taking over your anger you missed the worried look he threw at your red face and the slight movement he made with his hands as if to grab your fretting ones. Instead when you looked back at him after a couple of moments of silence, what you saw was him studying the space behind you closely. “Hey! Are you even listening?” You got over your anger and tried to explain, (not that you needed to) somewhat logically to make this person understand why you needed the seat back and all they did was ignore you.

“Have you found the book that you needed?” He turned his attention back to you, a small smile forming onto his face. You did not know whether it was the fact that he completely ignored what you had said earlier, the untimely smile he gave you, or the fact that your heart sped up at the said smile, but your anger went through the roof once again.

“No! Now excuse me whilst I go reclaim my seat. If you want to waste time out here just staring at the walls, that is your issue, some of us have problems they need to fix.” Making a move to turn around you halted, realising you were going the wrong way. Mumbling to yourself you brushed past the guy and headed for the lifts. Calling the lift you tapped your foot impatiently. You could find another seat somewhere else, and if not, you were desperate enough to finish the paper that you would risk your own bottom and sit in between shelves. It felt like an eternity until the lift arrived and as soon as you got in you pressed the button for the floor above you thinking you may have some luck there. Surveying the corridor you noticed that the guy had left, and surprisingly a twinge of disappointment made you sigh. You just wanted to continue the argument, nothing else.

Right before the doors to the lift could close though a running form made its way to the lift sliding in between the door with swift grace, almost barreling into you. It took you a moment to realise it was the seat stealer with his bags packed up and his laptop in his hands. “What are you doing?” you hissed as you noticed he cancelled your floor and pressed the tower one instead. “Making up for stealing your seat”, he casually replied as he observed the numbers in the lift change.

“By not letting me go find another seat?” you huffed, “you could have just vacated the seat earlier and it would have all been fine.”

“But it wouldn’t have given me an excuse to talk to you for longer than three seconds would it? I’m Hoseok by the way.” He turned and smiled at you, the dimples in his cheeks becoming prominent. Rendered speechless by his forwardness, you did not know how to respond. So you settled onto clearing your throat and willing the blush that was taking over the apples of your cheeks away. Not meeting his eyes and refusing to grant him with the same grace and give him your name, you chose instead to ask where he was planning to take you. His response was just as cryptic as his previous one, “you will see”.

The rest of the way had been spent in silence, you having given up on trying to argue with the seat stealer...Hoseok. You repeated the name in your head multiple times, it suited him. For a brief second you wondered how it would sound if you said it out loud, but you squashed that thought away very quickly. You weren’t friends or even acquaintances so there was no reason for you to do so.

Whilst your brain was running a hundred miles an hour, throughout this time Hoseok took the time to observe you. Undeniably pretty, a smile made its way onto his face as he watched the different faces that you were pulling clearly lost deep in thought. You are cute. He knew that your argument couldn’t even be called as such. To his defense, the seat he had occupied had nothing on it. It was only when he ran back to gather his things and rush back to you that he noticed the note and the pen that were lying on the floor near the foot of the desk. In his haste he had grabbed both of them hoping that if his plan did not work he would have another excuse to approach you at some point. Now, those two items were weighing down in his pocket. Your name, which you had not freely given to him but it was written on the note, burnt into his mind. Maybe he did not need them after all. He would give you your pen back of course, but he would keep the note. It would be good memorabilia in the future.

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened .This time Hoseok did not even hesitate to grab your hand and lead you to your destination as he was afraid you would run away from him. Your heart thumping again at the gesture you let yourself be led by him too astonished to say anything. Who was this human being and why was he so friendly after you’d argued for the good part of an hour. Before you could panic about the time you had lost, Hoseok stopped abruptly.

‘We’re here’ he motioned with his free hand. The one that did not occupy yours.

Realising so you tried to inconspicuously free your hand from his, the astonishment at his behaviour quickly turned into amazement at the choice of space he was presenting you with. You were not a fan of the tower as heights were a bit of a stretch for you but the cosy alcove with window seats and the view of the night time sky it provided were enough to make you forget that. “Woah, how did you find this place?”’ You mumbled and quickly went to the window observing the lights of the city behind you. For how late it was, the scenery down below was surprisingly animated. Not getting a response you turned around thinking he had abandoned you there. What you were not expecting was the bashful look he was giving you whilst rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, by mistake really, I just happened to wander here one day and yeah...thought it was quiet enough and...well, I needed to make up for the fact that you did not have a seat in the end and you said you needed to finish your paper and…yeah’

Him reminding you of the paper that was now due in less than three hours made you jump in panic. Without thinking you threw your laptop onto the little table space that the alcove offered and sat down. Typing your password you opened the document you were working on. Whilst waiting for it to load you hesitated, bit your lip and looked up.

“Are you not going to sit down? I assume you also have work to do since you are here?” Without looking, you motioned to the seat directly across from you. This could end up being the best decision of your life or your worst... but you came to the conclusion you wouldn’t know unless you took a chance. Hearing him shift his feet and the feel of his knees close to yours as he sat down was enough to make you blush again. Here it goes, now or never.

‘I’m Y/N by the way’ you looked up in time to see him smile.

‘I know’

#jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #bts jhope #kpop scenarios #bts scenarios #i lowkey wrote this whilst not having slept for a week so i'm sorry #bts x you #bts x reader scenario

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

star crossed lovers and curses? TYSM for writing these btw I love your writing

64. Star Crossed Lovers & 98. Curses

from fanfiction trope mashup here

ANOTHER 2 YR OLD PROMPT….this concept seems sufficiently fairy tale enough for a little Mermay, perhaps 👁👁

so like. this got a lot longer than I intended because I was having so much fun with it. OH WELL

———————-

It was a real slap in the face–Newt has to admit–for the institute to deny him funding for this one. Ten years of thorough, groundbreaking, devoted research–ten years of PhD after PhD–ten years of no vacations, or weekends off, or even dating–Newt just assumed all he’d have to do was waltz into his supervisor’s office and they’d shell out however much he requested, no questions asked. That’s how it’s always been.

And yet here he is now, solo-manning a rented skipper with rented diving gear and a backpack full of disposable waterproof cameras, sunburned and dehydrated and miserable, all just because–

(“It’s stupid?” he said. “You think my idea is stupid?”

“With all due respect, Dr. Geiszler,” his supervisor said, not even pretending to be apologetic about it, “yes. We’re not going to pay for you to chase after the Loch Ness Monster.”

“That’s in Scotland!” Newt shouted, and then Newt started shouting some more, and he maybe had to be escorted back to his lab, but he wasn’t fired, at least, and the next day he cashed in ten years’ worth of hard-earned vacation and declared he’d be fucking off to the coast to pursue a completely legitimate doctorate in crypto-marine-zoology. Or whatever it’s called. He’ll worry about the name once he gets it.)

Two weeks into his spite-fueled expedition in the middle of the fucking ocean, Newt begins to wonder if this isn’t a mistake. He’s running low on food, for one thing, and what little fishing he learned as a Boy Scout can only take him so far. For another, it’s really hard to do this sort of work by himself. Though Newt usually goes solo for shorter expeditions, he’s used to having an intern or two tag along to help him take pictures on longer ones like this–or at the very least, provide enough conversation to keep him from going nuts.

But the biggest indicator so far that this is one giant waste of time is the fact that in the course of those two weeks at sea, Newt hasn’t found one single, solitary shred of evidence. No giant squid tentacles. No sea monster humps rising from the waves. No mermaid tails. He hasn’t even seen a shark fin, for God’s sake. Just endless, deep, blue.

Starting to thing this might be career suicide, Newt writes in his field journal on the fifteenth day.

And then his boat is capsized.

Well, not really. His boat is almost capsized. Low in the list of Newt’s priorities for trip preparation–so low, in fact, it came in after pack razors and do laundry–was check weather report. It just didn’t seem important at the time, you know? He had other shit on his mind. It’s why the storm takes him by complete surprise.

Newt woke at dawn today to the sound of rain tapping lightly on the roof above his cramped quarters. The drizzle quickly became a thunderstorm. The thunderstorm quickly became–well, whatever this is. Waves smacking against the sides of the boat. Water sloshing onto the deck. A perfectly good cup of French press coffee upended all over Newt’s only map.

His boat isn’t capsized, but it gives a great, shuddering jerk that sends Newt sprawling to the wood planks and grasping for anything to steady himself–his bedposts, the ruined map, a chair leg–and a great flood of water rushing in. Newt manages to scramble up in time for his jeans to spare being soaked. (He probably should’ve packed more than one pair.)

It’s at this moment Newt finally allows himself to panic a little.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Shit. Okay, fuck. This is–” Another shuddering, wood-creaking jerk of his boat. Newt takes a few sloshing to the door and forces it open against the wind.

Iron-grey sea to his left; to his right; behind him; in front of him. The waves are angrier than anything Newt remembers from Boy Scouts. He flips up the hood of his rain jacket and stumbles out into the gale to lower the sails, or weigh down the ship, or something, anything to just–

There’s something pale bobbing out in the ocean some thirty feet away from his boat. A head, Newt realizes, a human head, a human head attached to shoulders, and his shock mingles with horror because oh, God, it’s a person! Their boat must’ve been wrecked by the storm–or they must’ve been thrown overboard–or both, Newt has to do something.

He cups his hands around his mouth and bellows in the direction of the mysterious bobbing head. “Do you need help?!”

Nothing.

“Hello!” Newt shouts.

Whoever it is suddenly disappears under the water; without thinking, with nothing on his mind but saving the drowning stranger, Newt shucks off his leather jacket and dives under.

At least this time, he knows it’s a mistake.

Newt is warm when he wakes up. Warm, and dry. The sun is shining overhead; the boat is still; the waves are calm. There’s someone touching his neck–a hand, damp, and oddly chilly.

“Stop,” he mumbles, and swats them away. He’s trying to sleep.

The hand returns. “Stop,” Newt says, and swats again, more. viciously this time.

He hears a small, offended huff. The hand retracts, though not before depositing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and swatting back in return. “Well, I’m terribly sorry for attempting to return these,” someone says.

Newt’s eyes shoot open.

There’s a man above him–sharp-cheeked, brown-eyed, shirtless and pale, his short, dark hair plastered to his head like he’s just gone swimming. He’s scowling at Newt. There’s something familiar about him that Newt can’t quite put his finger on–until he does. “You were in the water!” he says, sitting straight up. “You were drowning!” He wracks his brains for the memory of that morning: a head bobbing in the water, Newt going overboard, the cold, dark rush of the ocean, his frantic, wheeling arms– “I saved you!”

“Not exactly,” the man says.

No, that’s not right. There was the dark rush of the ocean, his wheeling arms, and then two cold, sturdy hands pulling him up, onto his boat, pressing down on his chest, a cold, wide mouth breathing air into his lungs. “Holy shit,” Newt says. “You saved me! What were you even doing out here, dude? It’s–”

Then Newt looks down.

The head leads to shoulders, which leads to a torso, but below that– “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks again, and then, at a loss for anything else to say, “Can I take a picture of you for my field journal?”

Where there should be hips and thighs and calves below the waist is nothing but a long fish tail, curving and shimmering and brightly-hued enough to make Newt’s eyes sting. It tapers into two large, translucent, fanning fins, the left of which is misshapen, almost as if it were wounded somehow. The overall effect is gorgeous, frankly. Newt’s never seen anything so gorgeous in his entire life.

“No,” the man–merman–says. “Goodbye.”

He begins to wriggle to the edge of the boat. Newt reaches for him frantically. “Wait, wait!” he says. “Don’t go! I want to talk to you, please!”

A foot from the edge of the boat, one hand on the railing, the merman turns back to Newt. His eyes are narrowed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Newt says. “You, obviously. You’re–” He sweeps his hand in a broad gesture across the merman. “You’re not human.”

“Yes,” the merman says.

“And you saved my life,” Newt says.

Another scowl. “Yes. You’re bloody lucky I was passing by,” the merman snaps. “What on Earth were you doing out here in the middle of a storm like that? You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Newt shoves his glasses up higher and scoots closer to the merman. “I’m a scientist. A marine biologist, technically.” And, if you were to get even more technical, only a fifth marine biologist. Newt tended to look at his doctorates in a glass-half-full way. “I was, uh, gathering research.” Suddenly it occurs to Newt that he and the merman might have cultural differences he never even dreamed of, and he flushes with embarrassment. “Wait, do you know what a scientist is?”

“Yes,” the merman snaps again.

“Right,” Newt says. He coughs. The merman’s scowl hardens. Frankly, legends of sirens luring sailors to their deaths aside, Newt didn’t expect merpeople to be quite so…bitchy. Maybe he just got stuck with the most foul-tempered one in existence–it’d be just his luck. “Well. Uh. My name is Newt. It’s nice to meet you?” He holds out his hand, and then remembers himself. “Uh, this is how humans greet people. You shake it.”

“I know,” the merman says, and then (in a way Newt can’t help but feel as somewhat condescending) shakes Newt’s hand with a firm “Hermann.”

Newt snorts before he can help himself. Hermann pulls away. “Hermann,” he echoes. “You know–”

“I know,” Hermann says again.

“It kinda sounds–”

“I know,” Hermann says.

“It’s just kinda funny,” Newt says, and begins to snicker.

“So is ‘Newt’,” Hermann huffs, and then, before Newt can stop him, he dives back into the ocean with a splash and a flick of his shimmering tail.

Newt rushes to the railing and peers into the murky depths below, but it’s no use. Hermann’s long gone. His first real, solid evidence of crypto-marine biology, and he couldn’t stop being himself long enough to ask a few simple questions.

“Shit,” he sighs. He makes note of the meeting in his journal anyway.

He sees Hermann again four days later. It’s a bright, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, and–in a better mood than he’s been since he started out–Newt decides to take the opportunity to do some maintenance around the boat. Turns out Doc Martens don’t offer the most amazing traction on slippery decks, especially when you’ve somehow managed to wrap ropes from the sails around yourself and lose the ability to move your arms. Newt learns this the hard way.

Luckily, Hermann is there to catch him.

“You are a bloody menace,” he scolds, as a half-soaked–but safe–Newt blinks dumbly at him in the safety of his surprisingly sturdy arms. “What were you even attempting to do?”

“Uh,” Newt says. “Fix the sails?”

Hermann rips the ropes off of him effortlessly, then lifts him higher. Newt stays still, blinking, before he realizes he’s supposed to be climbing onto the deck, and then scrambles up over the railing. “There we are,” Hermann says, sounding equal parts smug and satisfied.

“Thanks, dude,” Newt says. “If you hadn’t been here–” He frowns. “Wait, what were you doing here?”

“Nothing,” Hermann says, too fast, and Newt grins.

“You were totally spying on me!”

“I was not,” Hermann snaps. “I was merely passing by. You’re awfully hard to miss. So–noisy.”

“Uh-huh,” Newt says. “Well, lucky coincidence. Can I interview you for my journal now?”

For a moment Newt expects Hermann to dip back beneath the waves, but–glowering up at Newt–he folds his arms and rests them against the side of the boat. “What would you like to know?”

Newt digs his tape recorder from his pocket and switches it on. “Everything.”

Hermann is a begrudging interviewee, but he’s an interviewee none the less, and answers each of Newt’s questions with only a small dose of sarcasm. He eats fish, like some larger fish might. He speaks English, like most fish don’t. He lives in a city populated with other merpeople, who have jobs and families and houses, though significantly different from the jobs and families and houses humans have. “Technically,” Hermann says, with a strange, furtive glance around, “I shouldn’t even be telling you these sort of things. Interacting with humans is considered highly taboo in my society.”

“Oh, shit,” Newt says, and inches forward. “Seriously?”

Immediately, Newt’s brain works overtime to concoct an exciting, Little Mermaid-esque scenario: Hermann’s dad as the strict king of the ocean, wary of humans because of some ancient feud, Hermann longing for freedom, Newt–well, Newt would be down with kissing Hermann to help him get rid of that fin. He’d be down with kissing Hermann regardless. Newt’s scientific interest in him aside, Hermann is pretty good-looking. And–well. The forbidden, star-crossed aspect of it all is kinda exciting.

“Yes,” Hermann says. “Humans have hunted merpeople for centuries. Or so I’ve been told. But…” His face twists strangely–the corners of his eyes crinkling, his teeth flashing into view–and Newt realizes he’s smiling. Awkward, and shy, and unpracticed, but smiling. “You seemed different. I took a gamble.”

Newt blushes, just a little. “Hunted,” he echoes. “Is that what happened to your fin?”

“My fin?”

“It’s injured on the left side,” Newt says. “Like something attacked you. Did a human do that? Or another predator, like a shark or something?” Do merpeople have to worry about sharks? Maybe they keep them as pets. That’d be cool. If Newt was a merman, he would have three pet sharks.

“Oh,” Hermann says. “Oh, no, nothing so dramatic. That happened when I was human.”

Newt drops his tape recorder. It narrowly avoids bouncing overboard. “When you were what?”

“When I was human,” Hermann repeats. “Did I not mention I used to be human?”

“Uh, no,” Newt says.

“Ah, well,” Hermann says, “yes, it was some time ago. Perhaps a hundred years.”

“You look good for a hundred,” Newt says, because Hermann can’t have more than a couple years on Newt’s thirty-five. To his surprise, Hermann snorts.

“Yes, see, I was involved with a man,” he says, “and–well, he wasn’t pleased when I wanted to put an end to things, move on, you know, pursue other relationships. Only there were a number of things I didn’t know about him. He practiced–mastered, really–a strange kind of magic. He cursed me. I’ve been stuck this way–half-human, never aging another day–ever since.”

Merpeople, magic, curses–this is too fucking good. No one is ever going to believe Newt if he publishes this paper. “What kind of curse?” Newt says. “Like, one that can be broken?”

“Presumably,” Hermann says.

“Do you have to learn a lesson?” Newt says. He pushes up his glasses and leans closer. “Does someone have to kiss you? Like a true love’s kiss?” Newt was never one for reading fairy tales as a kid–having preferred the much more interesting alternatives of poking slugs with sticks and rolling around in the dirt–but he knows that’s a pretty big deal in those kind of stories. Frog princes and shit.

“I don’t know,” Hermann says. “All I know is that this has been very irritating. I had a laboratory, you know, with all sorts of fascinating equipment. I was a scientist. And now–”

“Can I try kissing you?” Newt interrupts.

Hermann flushes and shuts his mouth. “Ah,” he stammers, “I–I’ve got to–”

He disappears, in another splash and glint of fin. It was worth a shot.

Hermann comes back a few days later, and he comes back after that, and after that. Sometimes Newt asks him questions about being a merman. Sometimes Newt asks him questions about his previous life as a human. Hermann seems to like talking about being a human more, for reasons that aren’t very hard for Newt to guess. He was born in Germany, like Newt, though was schooled somewhat prestigiously in England (which explains the stuffy accent). He walked with a cane and a slight limp. He owned a very nice and very expensive telescope, which he misses, and worries about the well-being of, constantly. Sometimes Newt tells him things about himself, too: about his myriad of tattoos, his studies, how the human world has changed since Hermann’s time.

One day, as Hermann watches Newt eat potato chips and transcribe one of his numerous interviews from audio to pen, he suddenly reaches out and touches the corner of Newt’s notebook. “May I read this?” he says.

“Sure,” Newt says, hoping that Hermann doesn’t flip back to last week and read Newt’s entry where he described, in great detail, his attraction to Hermann, and the incredibly steamy dream he had about him as a result of that attraction.

Hermann skims Newt’s notes quickly, politely ignoring the grease stains Newt left behind, then pushes the book back towards him. He didn’t read about the dream. Thank God. “You called me a specimen,” Hermann says. His eyes crinkle in amusement. “How impersonal.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt says, heart pounding a little, because if he didn’t know any better he’d say Hermann is being flirty, “can’t let my institution know I’m on a first name basis with my subject. Conflict of interests.”

“Now, tell me,” Hermann says, “what do you plan to do with the information you’ve gathered when you return home? A book? An article? An exhibition? If you’re going to ask to put me on display, my answer is a definite no.”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Newt says. The truth is that Newt has no idea what he’s going to do with his significant compilation of research about Hermann. It’d be one thing if he found evidence of Hermann’s whole colony, or even a merperson besides Hermann, but to go zooming back off to his superiors with nothing three weeks’ worth of tapes and maybe a photograph or two–and after that tantrum he threw last month–he has a feeling no one is going to buy a single bit of it. Maybe he’d have a chance if he took Hermann back with him and did display him, but throwing his friend on the mercy of a society that would gladly dissect him without a second thought is completely out of the question. Maybe he’ll just write a weirdly detailed children’s book. “I might just keep it for myself, actually.”

The answer seems to please Hermann. He toys with Newt’s chip bag for a few seconds before–cheeks going a shade pinker–he says “I feel I ought to confess something.”

“Be my guest, dude.”

“I was following you the other day,” Hermann says. “I was following you that first day, too. And–” His eyes dart down, away from Newt’s. “Before then, even. You intrigued me, and I wanted to know what you were doing all the way out here.”

Newt grins. “I intrigued you. Ha! Cool. Well, now we’re even.”

Hermann smiles at him.

The last Friday before Newt is due to turn back and set course for home, he finally gets his first sign of other human life out here in the middle of the ocean: a fishing rig, at least twice the size of Newt’s tiny little rental, motors up not too far away from him and begins to cast its nets. Newt, an extrovert at heart and only mostly sustained by conversations with Hermann (who has a tendency to disappear for days at a time), is so starved for social interaction that he bolts out from his cabin when he spots it and begins waving frantically at the crew.

“Hi!” he shouts. “Beautiful out here, isn’t it?!”

He gets a friendly wave back. Newt expects he looks half-crazed, from his wild hair, to his unshaven scruff, to the explosion of freckles across his cheeks and neck, so he can’t really blame any of the crew for their hesitance.

“How are the fish?” he continues to shout.

A thumbs up.

“Cool!”

A net is drawn up; it’s a decent catch, but nothing too impressive. Earlier in the week, Hermann explained to Newt that, this close to mer-territory, anyone would be hard-pressed to find anything but smaller fish. Merpeople are much better hunters than some humans with a boat could ever dream of being. “I’ve been out here for over a month,” Newt continues his one-sided conversation. “I was looking for sea monsters. Have you ever caught anything like that before?”

No, they haven’t. The net is thrown back into the ocean.

“Okay!” Newt says. “Just wondering!”

The faint sound of groaning wood makes him stop in his tracks as he turns to head back into his cabin. Groaning wood, and splashing. Loud splashing. Excited shouts. It looks like the fishing rig netted something big.

Newt–determined, still, to be sociable–cups his hands around his mouth to call his encouragement over, but the words die on his tongue almost instantly. There, tangled up and flopping around in the rig’s netting, is a very familiar glimmering tail with a very familiar tattered left fin. “Hey,” Newt shouts, “stop! You’re–that’s my friend, you have my–!”

For the second time, Newt dives into the sea for Hermann.

He closes the distance between the two boats in no time at all, and–powered by pure adrenaline, ignoring the yells of surprise and anger above him–begins hacking blindly at the net with his pocketknife. A few more pieces–a few more strands–

It spills open. Newt feels a Hermann-sized shape graze past him, and a moment later, Hermann breaches the surface of the water. He doesn’t look very happy. “They caught me in their net,” he spits. “As if I were–!”

Newt hugs him. It’s not very graceful, considering the circumstances, but it’s something he’s wanted to do for a while, and he’s too happy that Hermann won’t be dissected or stuffed or something to care. “You caught my friend in your net while he was swimming,” he tells the fishermen over Hermann’s shoulder, now moderately more calmly. “I thought he was–uh–going to drown.”

The fishermen are profusely apologetic, to the point where Newt actually feels kind of bad for them, and it takes him waving them off with assurances they won’t sue or anything for them to hastily speed away. Hermann doesn’t look away from Newt once the whole time, his expression soft and just a touch unreadable. “You came to my rescue,” he says.

“Well,” Newt says, puffing out his chest, “a little bit, yeah.”

Hermann kisses him. Newt responds enthusiastically.

He’s so worked up over it all–grabbing Hermann’s hair, biting his weird frog mouth–that he doesn’t notice that the gentle fanning of Hermann’s tail against him has become the slide of skin against denim until Hermann suddenly grips at his arms. “Newt,” he says, eyes widening, “Newt.”

Well, even then it takes a bit. Newt kind of has a one-track mind when it comes to this sort of stuff. “Mm, yeah, Hermann,” he groans happily. He goes back in for another kiss, but Hermann dodges it.

“No,” he says, “I’m–” He gives a little kick.

Oh. “Oh, holy shit!” Newt exclaims, and laughs in delight. “Legs! You have legs!” Naked legs, in fact. Long naked legs–of course he’s taller than Newt. Hopefully he has some clothing that’ll fit the guy.

“Legs which don’t swim very well, I’m afraid,” Hermann says. He’s giving Newt another broad, awkward smile. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Newt says.

There goes Newt’s paper, he guesses, but–strangely–he can’t really bring himself to care.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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selfcallednowhere · 5 years

Text

March 8, 2018, Portland, OR

They opened with "Ana Ng," followed by "Damn Good Times." During the intro of the latter, when the band was already playing but Flans was talking before the vocal kicked in (which he is quite fond of doing, particularly when the song is one of the first few of the night), he said Portland is "the only town that counts." (I knew he was joking but I was still mildly bothered by this as a Seattleite dealing with the Seattle vs. Portland rivalry).

Afterwards, Flans was referring to the people who were around the edge of the room, which was blocked off by a barrier--he said they were in East Berlin. John: "We hope you'll think about what you did." Then he said that Flans hadn't said the thing about this being "the only town that matters" at any of the other shows they've done on this tour, and Flans said it's because a big percentage of the population of Portland is rock critics. Then he said that thing that keeps making me so sad, about how they have a new album and when they say they're going to play a song from it we should pretend to be enthusiastic about it.

After "I Left My Body" (great as always), "Your Racist Friend" (still meh on this song but I do love the trumpet-party-break section with Curt), and "Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal" (causing me to rock way out), John got out his contra-alto clarinet. He said it's "lower than the bass clarinet and at war with the alto clarinet."

They played "All Time What," then Flans asked John what he'd done all day. He said he'd "wandered around and dodged the raindrops--apparently it rains in this town." Flans said he did not go to the record store (there's an Everyday Music very close to the venue that he's been known to frequent when they're in town), which meant he had more money than he otherwise would've.

There was some funny banter after that. Flans said they'd gotten to stay at an actual nice hotel the night before, which was unusual for them. Then John said they were wearing crooked top hats and saying "We're gonna make it some day!" Flans said the hotel looked like "a movie set from the '30s," and they took something off a tray of food that probably cost $40. John said they were going to escape on a luggage cart disguised as luggage, and Flans compared them to Harpo Marx. Then John said that next they'd be running and their feet would make bongo sounds. So silly!

They played "Turn Around," which was SO GOOD, much better than the night before when John hadn't used his accordion due to technical difficulties.

After "Spy" and "The Mesopotamians," Flans explained that they're playing two sets, and the second set was "all hits," but they were hits by other bands. John said they're not even good bands, and Flans said they're "under the thumbs of our management," who are really mean to them.

They played "This Microphone," and then Flans said it's on their new album. He said it just came out on vinyl, and that it's a gatefold sleeve, which you can "clean your Oregon pot on."

Flans introduced "Bills, Bills, Bills" by again explaining how they'd been to the AV Club to cover a song for them. He said they first did "Tubthumping," but they weren't going to be playing that tonight because "if you sing it once you'll be singing it all week." He said he was going to be Kelly, John was going to be Beyonce ("a role he originated on Broadway"), and "the members of the band not with us will be playing the part of Michelle." So then they played it, and as always I was completely enraptured by Flans's full-on diva-ness.

They closed out the first set with "Birdhouse in Your Soul," which is a perfect set closer cos there's so much energy in the room when they play it.

Second set started the usual way, with the "Last Wave" video (which I was really tired of at this point, I never really liked it much in the first place and this was like the millionth time I'd seen it) and then "Older" to kick off Quiet Storm. I've been enjoying it on the contra-alto clarinet so much that it'll be a bit sad to (presumably) go back to it on keyboard when all this is over.

Flans pointed out the balcony was really far back and said it was "a mistake." John said it was the section for nursing mothers, and Flans said they'd combined that with the section for cigar smokers.

Flans introduced "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too" by saying it was "one of the first songs we wrote," and then confessed that they're actually vampires (explains a lot!). John said not to post that on social media, but then said that it actually wouldn't matter because they wouldn't show up.

After they played it, Flans said not enough people were taking pictures with their phones, and he was "distracted by not being distracted."

Next was MY THEME SONG, still intense and special and emotional and wonderful every single time. It makes me sad to realize that this tour may be the only time I'll get to see it, but I'm just grateful to have been able to as many times as I have.

Flans said that the electronic drums have "all the power of EDM and all the musicality of not-EDM." Then he said the last song was from John Henry, and why don't they play more songs from that album? "Because it's not very good." (As someone for whom John Henry holds the elevated status of not only the album containing my all-time favorite song but also is tied for my #1 album overall, you can imagine what my reaction to this comment was.)

They played "How Can I Sing Like a Girl?," and then the rest of the band came back on stage for "Istanbul," including the crazy jam session at the end. Afterwards, John said he needed to catch his breath and he wanted them to talk for a minute before they played the next song, which made him sound like such an old man. Flans asked us how we were enjoying the sprung dance floor, then said maybe they should talk about some prostitution scandal (I'm not sure what he was referring to) or the "useless" tariffs Trump is proposing. John said he's divesting his money from steel and investing it in "Waynecoin. It's a psychedelic cryptocurrency. You feel like you're tripping, and then all your money is gone."

Then they played "Mrs. Bluebeard." At this point I took it as a foregone conclusion that John would screw up the lyrics since he had every other time I'd seen it, and sure enough he did. For the second time at the shows I've been to, he actually acknowledged the fact that he did afterwards. His excuse was that he'd been distracted cos he'd been trying to move the microphone with his lips so he could reach the higher part of his keyboard, but the crew had tightened it too much and it hadn't moved. Flans said that what he likes is when the crew sets up his mic stand so it's too tall for him, cos he's flattered that they think he's "of higher stature" than he really is.

Next came "Particle Man," "Wicked Little Critta," and "New York City." Then Flans said the next song features Dan on acoustic guitar. Dan played a little something, and Flans said it was from Dan's collection of "unreleased b-sides" and was entitled "Ah Fuck It." John said something about it reminding him of the Motel 6 commercials, and Flans went off on a classic hilarious Flans thing with him pretending to be Tom Bodett and saying "we'll leave the bugs out for you." Then he said if you're a rock band who wants to be sued you should just say that Motel 6 has bugs.

They played "Number Three," and then Flans went back to riffing on the Motel 6 thing (in character). He said if you're coming there and you have a dog with bugs/mange you should bring them and let them pee all over the carpet.

They played "When the Lights Come On," Flans introduced the band, and then they closed out the main set with the reliably superfun "Doctor Worm."

The first encore was the same spectacular duo as almost all the other shows on this West Coast trip: "Dead" followed by "Don't Let's Start." The second encore was "Man, It's So Loud in Here" and then "Fingertips."

It was a great set and a great show! A teensy bit disappointing because the setlist was nearly exactly the same as the previous night in Seattle, and the only reason it wasn't exactly the same was that they'd removed a couple of the particularly great songs they'd played, but otherwise no complaints.

After the show, I was hanging around the stage trying to get a setlist. I didn't get one, but I did snag something else really cool: a signed drumhead from Marty! That was a first for me. I think he might've given it to me because I told him I recognized his shirt as being from Out of Print Clothing, one of my absolute favorite shops (the one with the cover of The Metamorphosis that he's been wearing a lot lately), and we chatted about that a bit. Between that and him giving me a setlist a couple of days before, I finally felt like I could accept him as a full real member of the band--I've still been thinking of him as "the new guy" all this time. I feel silly saying that as he's been in the band for going on a decade and a half now, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with Marty's skills as a drummer or kindness as a person, both of which are clearly quite high--I just don't deal with change particularly well.

JL wardrobe report: a black pullover jacket, not too exciting, except for when he pushed up the sleeves for the second half of the show (I always love seeing his arms that way, it's much more exciting than when he's just wearing a t-shirt for reasons I can't really articulate).

#tmbg #show reviews

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gabisartdump · 6 years

Photo

For my birthday, my little sis’ said she would make a digital pic for me!

Bottom right is what i started planning it out with, and it morphed into what it is now! It was a mashup of lots of my fav characters. Still a WIP, but she’s the best!

See OC description below the cut!

Origin: This guy’s name is Criss, as in Criss-Cross. He’s technically a Ben 10 alien, but forms by pulling the essence/soul of various characters from other universes. Probably was originally a result of some universe-ending problem that was Ben’s fault to begin with (dimensional surge?). They’re pretty stable now.

Looks/Pieces: Main body is Genos’ machine body (OPM). He has Astro’s red boot-feet so he can actually fly (Astro Boy). Hair is a combo of Killua's and Deku’s, plus Edward’s braid (HxH, bnha, FMA). Right eye is Sebastian’s red demon eye; left eye is Rin’s blue one (Black Butler, Blue Exorcist). He’s wearing Danny’s white/red shirt with the wings of freedom and Eren’s jacket (DP, AoT). Those are Deku’s pants and belt. Hard to see are Ladybug’s and Chat’s miraculous ring and earrings (Miraculous Ladybug). He also has Rex’s goggles (Generator Rex). Obviously, Ben’s Omnitrix is on his wrist (Ben 10).

(not pictured) Mach 5 car with Voltron symbol. It acts kind of like a Voltron lion/Bumblebee fusion plus gadgets. This car is actually an overlay of Kevin’s car. The first time Criss waves his hand over Kev’s car and wills it into being, Kevin is horrified.

(not pictured) inside the Miraculous is a Kwami mixture of yin/yang.

Personality: He’s a flirtatious dork with a strong sense of justice and a knack for being a jerk sometimes. He can be REALLY scary when he wants/needs to be (’cause of Sebastian, Killua, and Eren) but it’s rare. He’s impulsive most of the time but is a thorough thinker under pressure. He’s got a bit of MPD because there are literally 13 people inside of his head. They all speak out of the same mouth, so he sounds insane 90% of the time, but they sync together in stressful situations. Criss tends to overthink in stressful situations, so Gwen and Kevin are there to ground him.

*Puns and Snark are a given with this bunch*

Has perks like: KILLING INTENT via Killua and RIGHTEOUS ANGER via Eren. Plus: an extra bonus of SADISM courtesy of Sebastian

Criss is a complete idiot most of the time, but in the middle of battle, he’ll just start talking about theoretical physics and trigonometry. Gwen doesn’t really know how to deal with him. (2)

They’ve got an. odd. collection of knowledge.

“How are we supposed to know what human beings are made of?”

“What, like it’s hard?”

He’s got like, a surprising amount of common sense considering all of the doofuses that make him up. Marinette helps w/that a lot.

Extra Perk: He is the ULTIMATE negotiator.

Adrien knows how to work the business man/fashion scene. The boy has got a walk.

Sebastian is awesome at the intimidation factor, but Deku makes him seem really trustworthy.

Ben, Rex, and Rin keep him low key and #relatable.

Marinette is the only one of them who has any kind of emotional maturity. She good at reading people too. The only reason any of this works. Keeps them on task for almost everything.

Merging: Criss is a mesh of essences and memories, but all inside are aware of what is going on. When in separated by ‘verses, they have almost an empathic/telepathic link where they can sometimes send pulses/images down the link. Every once in a while, one of them can ‘pull’ on the essence of someone else to help them. However:

In order to fully merge, all of them of must agree, but it’s usually not a big deal; it’s pieces of the characters’ souls that are transferred, not their bodies. It doesn’t really affect what they are doing atm unless it’s super complicated.

Weaknesses:

The Ultimate Klutz, unfortunately. Sorry Mari. Very ADHD and seems to have a pretty severe MPD, for obvious reasons. Kind of off-putting as a person. Extremely draining form when in combat, Ben will sleep for days afterwards.

Powers:

Obviously, Criss has got Super-strength from multiple people and exceptional sneak ability and balance (most of the time).

Danny:

- ectoplasm blast

- can briefly become intangible but not invisible

“Why are you all so friggin’ dense???”

- can fly a space ship

“Why are you looking at me? I don’t know how to fly an Earth space shuttle!”

“I do!”

“YOU DO?!”

“How?!?”

“Simulations.”

“...We’re all going to die.”

Rex:

- able to transform legs into a bike

- can talk to machines

Astro:

- legs can fly

Ladybug:

- creation power helps with [inventory] power from the Gamer

- Because Criss has both the earring and the ring, he is technically a god. (1)

- Marinette’s stubbornness overrules all, and she can take control of Criss completely when they’re being really annoying. Sebastian occasionally assists. The two of them have the ability to literally shove everyone back to their home dimension, leaving behind an intimidating, girly version of Ben with red eyes. Ben’s still there but he’s been silenced by fear.

Edward:

- can do alchemy

“Wait, we can do magic?”

“No.”

Rin:

- He can COOK! It’s actually really good, and Gwen is pretty tempted to keep him as Criss.

Kevin: “Since when can you cook Ben?”

Criss: “I am a man of many talents.”

Also Criss, immediately after: “They’re my talents, Kitchen Failure.”

- Demon fire

- can perceive/talk to demons

Chat:

- Cataclysm

- The unmatched ability to perch on top of/in lockers, waiting to scare anyone with great relish.

HILARITY to be found in this ‘verse:

a. Someone asks his opinion on something and he literally just freezes from indecisiveness.

b. He’s like half a foot taller than Kevin, and Kevin is pissed.

Kevin thinks Criss is way cooler than Ben tho’ so it’s cool.

c. On one instance, one of the guys has been forced/dared into wearing something hideously embarrassing in his home ‘verse. Cue him being horrified as he’s pulled into Criss in a time of crisis, thinking it will transfer with him. Turns out that their shared body is more made up of their mental images than anything.

“Why’d you seem so worried when you showed up?”

*sends mental image*

*muffled snickers and exclamations and an overall sigh of relief*

d. (1) It’s a thing with him, like his war cry.

“I have the power of God and anime on my side” - said in the midst of battle

Gwen and Kevin. Need It To Stop.

“You dare defy your God?!?”

“Shut up Ben.”

“It’s Criss!”

Sebastian hates it. Therefore, when ever Criss yells it, he rolls his eyes at himself. It’s a little bit hilarious.

e. A lot of them are SUPER excited at the idea of aliens. Some; not so much.

“A-Aliens?!”

“I thought they were EVOs, but clearly they’re from outer space.”

“Cool!”

“Eh, I’ve dealt with worse.”

f. Sporadic cursing via Edward. and fake cursing via Danny

“You frigging fruit loop!”

“What?”

g. Randomly, one of them will just give a full-body shiver and say “Oh, this is disgusting.”

h. (2) Criss actually has a modicum of common sense, so Kevin is really impressed at first.

“Wow, it’s almost like you’re a real, rounded person!”

*Eren screams*

“Never mind.”

I. They get a lot of awkward questions.

Some Behind-the-times Surfer Dude: “So, like, are you a boy or a girl?”

*silence*

Criss: “I am a GOD!”

Kevin, absolutely done: “SHUT UP”

. . .

Gwen, later: “He’s technically right, you know.”

Kevin, nearly crying: “Yeah, but denial is the only thing keeping me going at this point.”

J. Sometimes, Criss gets SUPER DUPER excited, for various reasons.

Deku, about other heroes/aliens,

Adrien, about anime,

Sebastian, about cats,

etc.

It’s slightly adorable, slightly disturbing.

K. Criss randomly starts talking about fashion, mostly due to Marinette, and shows surprising prowess

Gwen, vaguely disturbed: “Um, have you seen your outfit?”

Criss: “Yes and I hate it.”

L. Criss can and will have conversations/arguments with himself out loud for hours on end. They can be about anything. Literally. Anything.

@tharkflark1

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benzilla80 · 6 years

Text

Waterous Trail on Foot 50 Miler – The Resurrection

The Backstory

The lead up to this race had been a pretty solid one by my standards. WTF 100 miler in 2015 was a qualifier race for another 100 miler on the Australian east coast. After nearly a year of waiting, I was accepted to race in the Great Southern Endurance Run (GSER) A 181km 10,000m vertical gain alpine race. Fast forward almost another year and the race is fast approaching this coming November.

I will try not to wander to far from this race, but it was all part of my preparation. My GSER training program involved nearly a year’s worth of ‘racing diet’ Both for financial and racing effort reasons. Since Australia Day Ultra in January until GSER in November, there was to be only one race, and that was a ‘test and tune’ event. WTF50 was perfect. Local, I knew the course and it was a chance to test out some things under race conditions.

Training involved a good base of 100km weeks before training even started. Bread and butter weeks including one interval session, one tempo session and one long run as the foundation. The first few weeks were 6 days a week with easy volume runs filling in between the harder workouts, then I swapped to 7 days a week and targeted at least 2,00m elevation gain. The training week of WTF was a 130k week with an extremely short 3-day taper.

What The Actual Race Day

I got as early a night as I could, and rose on the first alarm, quietly got ready and drove myself to the start line with an instant packet of porridge warming my belly. The drive was dark, wet and not exactly inspiring for what lay ahead.

I arrived at the meet point a bit early and was not sure of the new parking area, eventually, I found the toilets and parking area and Sergio was also wandering about in the rain looking for the start. A few moments later a stream of cars rolled in and it was on. I parked and walked behind my car to get my gear out and stood in a large puddle…. great.

Race director Dave Kennedy (DK) arrived in the big orange bus and we get through the drop bag process quick and easy then take the short walk through the early daw sunlight to the start line proper. It’s raining lightly and I am in two minds about keeping my hooded jacket on or not, I hate running in that thing, yet didn’t want to spend all day wet either, so it stayed on.

Race line brief, I hit my watch to get the location and it has an update waiting for me…. c’mon really? You need to do this now?! (I ended up starting the race without it tracking and got it sorted on the go, but that explains the minute difference between my watch time and gun time)

We set off and I’m about mid-pack and 50 meters into the race the lead guys run right by the first turn and take half the pack with them. I call out and everyone gets back on track among a few laughs. I find myself running with a person I didn’t recognise, Thomas with another lady I didn’t recognise Martina. Both looked springy and ready to go and as Chris and Andrew joined me they pulled ahead. The boys and I had agreed to run together for as long as it worked as a Runningworks Team, which I was happy for. The company was nice and I offered a few tips and laughs along the way. Both those guys had potential to win, and now there were two other factors I had not considered opening a gap ahead. I told the guys to be patient, 80k is a long way.

The first 5km is mostly downhill, so I tried to keep the pace comfortable but not silly. I said to Andrew “forget the split times and think of the split effort, consistent effort is more important than maintaining a specific number, some will be fast, some will be slow so think of the overall effort” I had planned my effort to be above training but stay below racing pace.

Things were going well, Martine came back to the group on one of the last big downhills before the river and Thomas opened the gap more and more. Our group of three crossed the river and began the next long 1.6km climb. I was happy to use my poles and run walk this, Chris seemed eager to run more and Andrew was happier to listen to his wife’s advice “winners walk the hills” Either way, we stayed pretty much together and were on the more runnable stuff into Kingsbury Drive Aid Station holding a nice pace and chatting away. Our average was pretty much 8 hours flat and Thomas was out of sight, a quick glance behind saw a few runners not far back, also in good spirits.

We round the last bend and I ask the guys if they were stopping and both said yes. I mentioned I needed to get my jacket off and have a pee so they might catch me then, but I avoid stopping at stations if I don’t have to. I had packed enough gear to not stop and ran right thought “307 in…307 out”

I would not see the boys again until Goldmine Hill’s out and back leg.

Running solo, I expected to slow down a bit, but managed to hold some pretty good pace on the hard-packed trail between the Kingsbury rd. crossing, around the plantation and into the ‘lil bitch’ (a term I use for my second most disliked part of the course, not an official name haha) the first of two rolling technical hills sections that can be tough in both directions, at least this year was a one way trip for me. A few hiking breaks and 6-7minute km’s saw me through to the Boyd Road section in pretty good shape. It was here my heart rate was elevated when I saw two rather large off leash Rottweilers running towards me with a small third dog in chase…. ALARM! The owner was close by and called the dogs and thankfully they had a great recall and decided against chewing on the skinny runner passing by! Just before leaving the road section I saw Chris’s wife Sandy and the rest of the support team at the junction. I appreciate the cheers guys. This was followed by a right turn and ‘big bitch’.

Part two of the rolling hill sections. It’s really not that bad, and many a runner would take it in their stride, but it’s enough to break your rhythm and technical enough to make you consider your footing and conserving the quad strength, it’s too soon to be burning them up. A few slower km’s and I took the chance to cram in some calories, after all the more you eat the less you have to carry! A couple of great single-track kilometres saw me popping out at the North Dandalup Dam Aid Station. 30km into the race and my first official stop. “307 in” and I was greeted by the lovely Kel, Harms and Jez at the table. “4 minutes behind the leader Ben” They took my rubbish and passed me my drop bag containing a kids sized packet of plain chips, a mini can of ginger ale and one Winners bar. I can’t remember if I had my bottles filled, I don’t think so?! I ate the chips, drank the drink and pocketed the bar “307 out” and was on my way. 30th kilometre was 7:15, so probably puts the total aid stop somewhere between 90 seconds and two minutes before setting out over the picturesque dam wall. 6 minutes behind Thomas.

As I crossed the wall in clear blue skies and tried to take in the views I reflected on two things, one was immediate and one was more philosophical. Firstly, was race related, Thomas was 6 minutes ahead, that’s a pretty solid kilometre gap and I figured I would see him in the next hour, or I would never see him again and the dark house effect had taken place once again like a Survivor blind side. Only time would tell. Secondly was a conversation I had with a hiker one day during training “runners see twice as much but only half as good” SO I made the effort to take in the views on the go, to really see twice as much

From the dam wall to the Out and Back Aid Station is my favourite part of the course. Even though it’s hilly it is still my favourite. Rolling single tracks, perfect for mountain bikers. Bermed banks and bush right up to the trail edge. I didn’t even mind the puddles or diversion around large fallen trees, plus I was almost halfway and the average pace was still sub 8-hour finish.

35.5km and I pop out at the Out and Back Aid Station, this year a full aid station and I cruise right through to complete the out and back leg before stopping. The volunteers cheer and I start the climb over Goldmine Hill, now officially on the local favourite 6 Inch Trail Marathon course heading towards it’s start. I break out the poles and run walk my way over the top and part way down to the 50 mile turn around. All the while wondering “Has Thomas opened the gap and run away, or will I see him any second?” Passing the Dodd’s sign, I see him on the return trip and we both look at our watches. As we crossed I gave him a cheer but I don’t think he heard me as he had headphones in, he was also climbing and probably doing the maths, as was I.

I hit the run and take two steps more, just to be sure and start my way back with that number locked in my mind, I pass the sign and #margiemaths has the gap back to 4 minutes, so I had clawed back the two-minute aid stop but at what cost? Hiking over the top with my poles clicking away I see SJ, it actually took at least 30 seconds for me to place the face and name but I got there in the end and smiled my way over the hill, stowed my poles and ran down the backside of Goldmine Hill towards resupply.

“307 in” and I find a bin to drop my rubbish and grab my drop bag. I pass on the chips and just drink the ginger ale. Helped by Elise and another lady I recognised but could not place a name, I’m bad with names until I hang out with them, sorry for not being able to thank you by name! I donate my ration of snake lollies to the aid station kitty as I still had a few left from the start of the race and stow my re-filled soft flask bottles. DK mentions I am looking in good shape and I feel pretty good at the halfway mark. In the parting seconds of the stop I cross paths with the leader of the 100 mile race, Nate. He is looking fresh as a daisy! With the roar of four people clapping it’s “307 out” and I’m starting the longest leg, 25km to the fabled Treasure Island at Oakley Dam.

The first half of this leg goes smoothly, I see the 100 pack coming past on their journey to Jarradale where I started and they all seem in good spirits and fairly spread out. I wish them all luck and they all cheer back, some saying “he’s right there” or similar but I was yet to see Thomas through he tree’s so I dismissed it as well meaning motivation but maybe not entirely accurate, #margiemaths really was a thing after all! It took until the sharp left turn across the rickety old wood bridge before I caught a glimpse of first place. I didn’t push or try to close the gap. I just maintained the same effort and let the cards fall where they may. At almost 48km we were should to should at the base of a long climb. We hiked for quite a long time (about 9 minutes!) and chatted about all sorts of things while we worked the hill. I took the chance to get some calories in knowing there was some runnable km’s coming up before the Del Park Road crossing. We crested the main climb and started running together, Thomas stayed with me for a while but seemed to drop off the back. Not sure if he stopped on purpose for a toilet break or just slowly slipped behind but the last I saw him at that stage was a cheer as we passed 50.1km, I called over my should “happy distance PB” we laughed and I turned my attention to my own effort and now had to make some decisions.

The section to the road crossing seemed to take a while and I tried my best to just run by feel and not try to run away from Thomas. I felt he had gone too hard too early and would now slip back in the pack as Chris and Andrew would be not far back, they were about 10-12 minutes back at Goldmine when I saw them there. From here I tried to dial the effort back a bit, this was a training run after all so I fell into the habit of looking back (which I always try not to do) and let myself hike more than I would if I was racing super hard. This had a weird effect on me and I hit my first low point of the race. My right wrist was getting sore when using the poles and I had to stop using them after the technical section from Del Park Rd and just ran the gentle climbs like Deadpool with my sticks strapped across my back. Hiking more than I wanted but I was also in a bit of a funk. Running past Tuner’s Hill (Aid 1 at 6 Inch) I berated myself for so many little hikes and committed to run to the Scrap Road crossing, “all the way, no walking, this is all runnable” I wanted to cruise slowly and consistently, but found I would run fast and get tired and the urge to walk was overwhelming. Weirdly, I felt exactly the same here at last year’s 100, and was passed in the exact same spot to slip from 2nd the 3rd (hat tip to Rob) I found the urge and saw a car coming which I think had a relay runner in it, he said “are you coming first?” and I replied “yes mate” trying to smile on the outside and “ gave me a cheer “that’s awesome, looking great” “thanks mate” as I passed by desperately trying to stay running. I knew the road was close now and was confident I was going to hold up my end of the deal and run all the way, before I hit a small rise and without permission my legs stopped running and I turned into a real life Jekyll and Hyde, right there out loud arguing with myself like a crazed lunatic “You f#$%ing P#$%y” “it is a training run, I don’t need to race that hard” “a deals a deal and you folded” Seriously, the weirdest conversation I have ever had and I was all alone. The rise was over and I was back running, chin up chest out in a bit of disbelief regards the last 30 seconds of my life.

I pass the start of the 3 Inch Trail Half Marathon course and begin the climb to the radio tower. I run the flatter stuff and hike the steeper parts, but walked almost a km solid to the top, eating what I can and drinking what I need to. Looking back, doing (now silent) deals with myself. As I pass the tower with the rumble of the conveyor belts to my left I feel the pull of Treasure Island and running down the other side I feel the funk passing. I see the relay guys again at the turn and they tell me I look fantastic and I confess “I’m not exactly feeling it” “I don’t think you are supposed to at 60km!” I cross the conveyor belt overpass thinking that he is right, I’m on target for a 8:30 finish and I had let my nutrition slip a bit that last long leg so of course I was feeling it. I ate another gel to be sure as I passed the ‘scarecrow’ and made the climb up towards Treasure Island.

I roll down the hill and can see signs posted for the runners, all pirate themed as the fabulous Treasure family embrace their name sake Aid Station. The road is lined with cars and there are people moving about. I hear a lady say to her daughters “her comes first place” and I smile. I don’t normally run this end of the field, only ever come first once before so it was a special feeling. I roll into Treasure Island to claps and cheers from a swarm of pirates. “307 in.”

I hand off one bottle to get me to the finish and leave one half full bottle in my vest. Blue is there with my drop bag, Frank fill my bottle and tried to give me a shot of rum, Ben and Shirley are right there packing my vest with my ‘to go’ bag and my other secret weapon, a small bottle of kids red fruit juice. That stuff sends kids crazy at parties, perfect for ultra-runners! I donate another small serve of chips and snakes to the aid station and finish my ginger ale. I mention that I really wanted to hit a sub 8:30 but I’m not so sure now and Blue does the maths for me “two hours to do 16 and a half kays’, no worries” (or to that effect) Going to be close but doable if I keep my head in the game. As I finish my drink Blue says, “don’t let us keep you” and two to three minutes later “307 out.”

Oakley Dam is a short 2km out and back that means you need to leave the marked Munda Biddi Trail. It also means you can once again see some of the field. I was expecting to see Chris or Andrew next, but was surprised it was Thomas, still holding on and still running. Kudo’s to him! Back to the scarecrow that is one of two danger points for navigation and has a history of runners missing the turn. As I was making the final turn back onto the trail I crossed paths with Aaron, but he was coming out of the trail and asked if he was going in the right direction. I confirmed the way to Oakley Dam and thought that was a good catch on his part in correcting the navigation mistake.

From here I was on the last leg, the final pull of the finish was there and the earlier pity party was wrapped up. The food was working and the mission was 16km in under 2 hours but to not destroy myself, maintain the faster than training, slower than race but should someone close the gap be prepared to run hard. The kilometres ticked by and I was happy with the effort. I drank my kids juice, tried to eat a bar but was over the dense food and only ate half of it. Not long later I ate two snakes, no point carrying them all the way and I continued to feel good.

Then it happened and for a moment I thought my race was done. As I neared the turn taken in the 6 Inch race that heads up to Aid 2, I began to cough. I had one almighty cough that was so violent my balls hurt and I doubled over and staggered to the side of the trail. Out of nowhere. I clutch my crotch and suppress the urge to cough again, I didn’t want the pain and I didn’t want to vomit. The urge passed and I got moving again, hesitant but moving. I had no idea where that came from and it worried me for a few seconds, but everything stayed down and the cough was a once off. I had a drink and decided to back off the eating for a little while. Pace came back and I was on my merry way, praying that didn’t happen again!

From here I hit a left turn onto the last of the notable climbs, mixed walk and run to get it done then steady pace, now alert for on coming mountain bikers heading out from Dwellingup. The effort is perfect, I do feel the miles but I’m not ‘running for my life’ Down the first powerline section and I have my final gel of the day and a drink. This section is open gravel road and I left the downhill flow, not even worried about looking back anymore. I feel if anyone catches me from here I can push it home. I just take in the trail, even saw a train! That’s a weird feeling seeing a steam train moving through the scrub where you had no idea there was train tracks! Now enjoying myself I sipped my water and did my best to avoid the run off puddles, one section of single track was impossible to avoid, it usually is so I just ploughed on through. Less than 10km with wet socks was fine, they had been wet most of the day anyway.

Second powerline section and into the Marrinup Maze. Five kilometres to home. One parkrun. Passing through the campground I have one last look back and can only see campers. I enjoy running the winding single track, taking in the berms and not caring about the puddles. Running well I think that this is what today was about. Not winning or leading or any of that stuff, but running well on tired legs. The training part of today. Manage the effort, be running well at the end and somewhere between 8 and 8.5 hours. A win was cream on the cake, or more accurately new shoes on my feet.

I pass the familiar farm with the hole in the shed and pigs, the dog barks at me as I run past, as Alexis predicted and now only 3km to go.

I pass some hikers and their border collie out for a casual walk, must be close now. I hear the noise of a country town and know in my bones it’s close and then I see a yellow trail marker. The original last turn to the finish. Now a four-way junction, and DK’s races have used all four in the past. There is no tape, I stand still in the junction and process my options and decide to follow the trail markers to the train tracks and see some tape at the upcoming road junction. I made the right choice and pop out once again on Del Park Road to a sign 50M to FINISH with an arrow.

I make the final turn and scan around looking for a finish line. The pub is busy, there are people in the park and I look both ways as I cross the train lines then ahead I see my youngest son running towards me, then comes my oldest into view and I choke back a sob. They had other plans that day and I didn’t expect to see them or my wife at the finish. I gathered them around my arms and jogged over the road to the group outside a small building. “where’s the finish line?” “you’re standing on it” and a wave of relief sweeps me as I pause my watch and look down.

It says 8:19.49, which was corrected to 8:20 and change considering my watch took a minute to sort itself out on the start line. Almost an hour faster than my 2014 race. I was pumped with the result, and stoked to have my family there to share it.

A word of warning to runners in DK’s events, if you have an issue with the course marking, be prepared to do something about it! Dave grabbed some tape and joked about sending me back out, but I also know he was recovering from a 200 mile race himself. So, I gathered the kids and Alicia and we took a slow stroll back to the four-way junction to put some tape down for the next runners. Thomas ended up holding second for the last 30km running sub 9 hours on his 50 mile debut.

A special thanks to DK and his wife Belle for putting on a great event, even getting us some sunshine during the day. To the aid station teams who put so much work, time, money and effort into helping us runners. Many are friends already and I can’t thank you enough.

Fast and Dirty Stats

Distance – 81.8km, 8 hours 20minutes, average pace 6:06/km

Calories consumed – Approx. 1,000 – 1,100, (7,000 burnt)

Water consumed – 2.5 litres, Kids Juices – 3, Mini Ginger ales – 3

Shoes – Altra Superior 3.0’s, Innov-8 mud sock with Stone Free Running Gaiters (also recommend Treasure Gaiters if you are in the market)

Shirt – TEAM RUNNINGWORKS tech shirt, Innov-8 Race shell when it was wet.

Poles - Carbon Fibre Z Poles

Vest, Salomon S/Lab 12 set

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youcancallmeelle · 7 years

Text

And I’ll Be The Sky And You Be The Bird... Part 2: (FP Jones x Original Character).

** Inspired by this song **

School, work, make time to hang out with my friends and sleep was my usual routine these days.

I’d be finishing my last year of school soon and I wanted to make sure that I atleast had a trade behind me, I’d made the concious decision to not go to college as it wasn’t something that interested me.

To be truthful, I don’t think anyone had put much thought into their futures, we were all busy living in the moment.

I don’t regret my choice because it’s what works for me and it was my decison to make, nobody elses.

I was currently bent over the front bumper of car, completing the service I’d started a few hours prior.

I was just done changing the oil filter when I heard Ian, my boss and the owner of the auto shop call out for me.

“Liv, there’s a gentleman who needs to see you, he says it’s important.” He informed me and I groaned, hoping to be finished for the day.

I turned around to see Ian leading the ‘gentleman’ into the garage and my expression changed, Ian excused himself to the back to finish up his paperwork which left myself and the male alone.

It was none other than FP Jones and I admit that I was relieved to not have any more work on my plate but not so relieved to see him.

I can’t deny that I hadn’t thought about him since the gathering by sweet water river and that had occured just over a week ago.

“So you’ve started stalking me then.” I scoffed, wiping my hands on a rag as I leant against the open hood of the Volkswagen golf.

“Call it what you want, I just wanted to see you again.” FP defended, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“How did you know where to find me?” I questioned, folding my arms firmly across my chest.

“I guessed you’d be here since there’s only a couple of mechanics in Riverdale and if I remember correctly, you told me where you worked. I wanted to come a few days ago but I’ve only just plucked up the courage. I didn’t want you to think it was weird, like I was lurking or anything.” He explained, removing one hand from the pocket of his black jeans and using it to rub at his stubbly jaw.

“It is weird.” I bluntly told him and he let out a sigh, still scratching at his jaw.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I guess.” He mumbled, focusing all his attention on the concrete floor and turning to leave the garage.

I slapped both hands to my face and silently made a noise of frustration, letting out a dramatic sigh as I battled with myself.

“FP, wait.” I sighed, causing the older man to stop in his tracks and turn to face me in wonder. “What’s up? I know you have no business here, so why have you come all the way to the Northside?” I continued and he shrugged, advancing towards me.

“I’ve told you, I just wanted to see you again.”

“Why?” I probed, my left arm supporting me against the car as the right still held the rag.

“When I was talking to you at the lake, it just felt like I’d known you forever. You’re different to anyone I’ve ever known, you’re beyond fucking cool!” He explained, waving his arms in front of him.

I laughed loudly at the gentleman in his serpent jacket, unable to resist a smile in his direction.

“And my age isn’t an issue, right?” I reminded him and he bit his lip, like it was his turn to have an internal battle.

“We can be friends…” He suggested, walking closer so there was probably less than a foot between us.

“Unfortunately, I’m not on the hunt for anymore friends. Do you not think it’s kinda weird? I’m literally best friends with your son, FP.”

“I know, Livv. But I don’t know what it is about you, like I told you by sweet water river, you intrigue me.”

“Fine, FP. But let’s keep this on the down low, agreed?” I dealt, holding my hand out for him to shake.

But instead, FP closed the distance between us and my breath almost instantly hitched in my throat as I felt every ounce of warmth come radiating off him and as cliche as it sounds, it was almost like actual sparks were flying.

I couldn’t move and I had no idea what he was intending to do, until I felt his fingers gently rubbing my cheekbone and the motion caused my eyes to flutter closed.

It felt like the longest few seconds of my life but I regained composure once I felt him step away once more.

My eyes were dazed and I’m pretty sure my mouth was open but I coughed to clear my throat and looked at FP in question.

“You had oil on your face.” He informed me, casually shrugging.

“Right….” I replied awkwardly, avoiding his stare.

“Do you wanna go grab a coffee at Pop’s or something? Maybe talk more?” He suggested hopefully and I bit my lip.

I turned back to look at Ian who happened to look up from his desk at the same time, he put his thumbs up to me and I stared back with a gracious smile, glad to be finished.

“I guess so, I’m so not in the mood for coffee though, it’s too hot.” I grumbled, removing myself from the vehicle and closing the hood.

“That’s cool, we’ll figure it out.”

I was still in my overalls, they were half on and tied at my waist. I unidid the tied sleeves and pulled the blue material down my legs, revealing my black jeans and converse that were free from engine oil and other grime.

“I like a girl in uniform.” FP teased and I scowled at him, throwing my overalls over a chair in the workspace until I wore them again in a few days.

“Let’s bounce then.” I urged as I grabbed my bag, pushing his shoulder gently as I walked past him and headed outside to where his black SUV was parked.

FP let out a quiet laugh as he shook his head at my casual behaviour but followed me outside.

“I’m going to take you to my secret hide out.” FP informed me as we pulled away from the auto shop which caused me to raise my eyebrow.

“You’re not planning on killing me, are you?”

“Because I’m the leader of a notorious gang?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I told him and he merely let out a dry laugh but continued to drive.

“What made you choose to work at the autoshop?” FP quizzed as he half focused on the road and half on me, it was slightly unsettling as it had gotten dark and I wanted him to be fully focused on his driving.

“I like cars and I’m good at it, I’m technically Ian’s apprentice but he doesn’t really need to teach me.” I responded and FP made an impressed face.

“You did look hot under the hood of that car in those cute overalls.” He chided and I made a sarcastic face in return of his compliment.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious, you looked great!”

“I’m there to fix cars, not look sexy.” I retored with a snort, still trying to brush off his compliment.

“You hate being complimented, don’t you?” FP reacted, almost like he read my mind.

“If you say so.”

FP let out an exhale but didn’t retaliate, only continued to drive into the unknown.

I think we continued to drive for another twenty minutes or so, up and around unfamilar roads that I’d never driven along before.

FP pulled into a dirt track that was barely illuminated by his headlights, I had no idea where we were but my breath was taken as we pulled into the clearing.

We were high up above the town, the stars in the sky and the moon beaming down bright.

FP cut the engine and undid his seatbelt, I copied his actions and opened the door to the vehicle. He walked around to meet me, taking my hand and leading me to the front of his car.

“It’s beautiful.” I spoke, looking on in awe and utter astonishment.

I gazed out over the city, admiring all the lights and landmarks.

There was an obvious divide between the Northside and the Southside, the difference between the two was vast.

“Do you come here often?” I wondered, turning my head to look at FP.

“I guess so, sometimes you just need to get away.” He replied, also shifting his position.

“Tell me about it.”

“How long have you lived here now?” He inquired and I shrugged, reliving the last few months.

“About four months, I think. It’s a big change from Ohio, everything is so different here.”

“By different you mean fucking crazy, right?” FP asked, his plump lips turning upwards.

“You could say that.” I conversed, amusement evident in my tone as I continue to speak. “You’re not married, are you? ‘Cause that’d be super weird, I’m not a home wrecker.”

“Nah, doll. It ended years ago, Gladys left with Jellybean a long time ago. We got divorced, it was for the best though.” FP explained and I nodded in understanding, almost feeling guilty for prying.

“I’m sorry.” I sympathised, gently touching his arm.

“Don’t be, it was for the best. Sometimes you just fall out of love with someone and I wasn’t a great father at the time, I was seriously dependent on alcohol. My daughter doesn’t even speak to me these days, I only have Jughead.” He informed me, sadness evident in his voice as he spoke about his children.

“Have you not dated since?”

“Nah, I haven’t bothered.”

“Mmm.” I replied, pursing my lips.

“Who do you live with? What’s your situation at home?”

“God, you’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you?” I grinned and he rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his lean chest.

“I’m just getting to know you, sweetheart. And besides, you’ve been shooting them at me too.”

This time I rolled my eyes, choosing to ignore his questions and remark.

I shivered as I felt a sharp breeze hit me, immediately regretting not wearing a hoodie as it had been humid all day since it was summer.

“You cold?” FP wondered, tilting his head to the side.

“Only abit, the breeze caught me off guard. I haven’t worn a jacket all day because obviously, it’s been really hot.” I scrunched my nose up, noticing the goosebumps arise on my skin.

“Here.” and before I could object, FP had hopped off the car bonnet and was removing his beloved biker jacket, shaking it out before placing it around my shoulders.

I drank in the newly found warmth and smiled gratefully at FP, slipping my arms through the sleeves.

“It suits you.” He commented, moving back beside me.

“Mmm, don’t get any ideas.” I warned and FP chuckled, his eyes glinting in the reflection of light that loomed from the landscape.

We continued to look on in silence, both of us just enjoying eachothers company. I hadn’t known FP for more than a week but it felt like we’d been friends for a lifetime.

I felt so at ease with him, we were so similiar.

“Do you regret it?” I mediated and he looked over at me oddly.

“Regret what?”

“Joining the serpents.” I added and he breathed through his nose.

“Sometimes, but it’s all I know. My old man kicked me out when I was younger than Jug, I joined the serpents and then went into the army for a brief time and came out, then joined the serpents again.” FP told me.

“You weren’t that old when you had your kids then.”

“Old enough to know what I was doing.”

I removed myself from the hood of his car, stepping closer to the edge but continuing to be cautious.

I placed my hands at my sides after I’d adjusted the red bandana in my hair that was keeping stray hairs out of my face, licking my lips that had become dry from the brisk air at the hill top.

I stared out over fox forest, wondering what horrors lurked within the dense trees.

I was so wrapped up in my thought that I didn’t feel the existence of FP close behind me, not until I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck.

I shivered and turned around to face him, he said nothing, only placed his hand on the side of my neck as he closed the little distance that was left between us.

This was the second time tonight that my breathing faltered at the fault of FP and his unpredictability.

My green eyes met his chocolate ones and our noses were almost touching, I couldn’t help but move my hands up to his jaw to feel the dark stubble beneath my fingers.

He leaned in closer and I didn’t dare move, not until I felt his lips gently touch mine. I didn’t push him away and I didn’t want to, instead I kissed him back eagerly.

I thoroughly enjoyed the harshness of his slight moustache on my lip, the way his beard scratched at my chin.

But, deep down, I knew this wasn’t right and pulled away from FP, taking a step back behind him, away from the edge.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed, confusion plastered across his face.

“Oh my god, FP. We’ve literally just started an affair, I can’t believe this.” I groaned, covering my face with his hands.

“So? It was just a kiss and besides, nobody needs to know.”

I uncovered my face and looked at him in disbelief, a sarcastic laugh escaped my lips.

“You’re joking, right?” I spat, overwhelmed at how fast the overall atmospehere had changed.

“Why are you getting so defensive?” FP asked, holding his arms out in front of him as he came closer.

“Why am I getting so defensive? Are you fucking serious? I’ve just kissed the dad of one of my best friends.” I almost yelled, pushing him away.

“It was just a kiss.” He repeated, holding his palms up in defense.

“But it’s not going to stop there is it, FP? How many more kises are there gonna be? I barely know you!”

“You need to relax.” He chided, cool and collected.

“You don’t know me, you have no right to tell me what to do. You had no right to kiss me!” I exclaimed, frustrated as hell.

“Please, Liv. You kissed me back! You wanted that as much as I did!”

“That’s not the point, FP! This can’t happen, I don’t do relationships and I defnitely don’t do old men!” I said, turning to get back into the car.

FP laughed at my comment but grabbed my wrist and pushed me back against the side of his car door, using his free arm to support himself by my head.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Tell me you’re not into this.” He demanded, releasing my wrist and motioning between us.

“I’m not into being one of those girls, FP. I’m too young for you and you’re too old for me, that’s just the way it is.” I denied, shaking my head.

FP pursed his lips but nodded, now reaching up to lightly touch my bottom lip with his thumb.

I threw caution to the wind and pushed his hand away, reaching up and grabbing his face.

I crushed my lips to his and I can tell the action suprised him because he wobbled ever so slightly but kissed back, his movements rough as his body pressed against mine in a heated fight for dominance.

My hands were tangled in the back of his hair and his hands were roaming my body, slipping underneath the leather jacket as his mouth left mine but immediately attacked my neck while his hand neared my throat.

I threw my head back, my mouth slightly open as I felt the sharpness of his stubble at my neck.

“Oh my god, you need to stop.” I gasped, struggling to remain controlled, my hands flat against his toned chest.

FP hummed against my neck, coming back up to meet my lips. I eagerly kissed back, pulling him closer if that was possible.

I bit on his lip gently, tugging it. He moaned quietly, his hands tightening on my hips almost painfully.

I pulled away from his lips, my own more plump than usual.

“You’re killing me.” FP groaned, his jaw tense.

“I’m sorry about that, but I need to go.” I giggled, my chest heaving from the heavy makeout session.

“Fine, I’ll take you home.” He sighed, pressing one last gentle kiss to my lips before pulling away from me and opening the door to his car for me to get into.

I complied and he closed it behind me, also hopping in as I fastened my seatbelt.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” I told him and he beamed back at me, obviously very pleased with himself.

“Wanna make this a regular thing?”

“Don’t push it.” I warned as he pulled out of the clearing, he merely laughed.

I guided FP to a road that was a few minutes away from the autoshop where our night began, only because I lived quite close to here and didn’t want to risk anyone seeing me with him.

He pulled up along the curb and I unbuckled my seatbelt, remembering to remove his jacket because I wouldn’t be able to make any excuses as to why I had it if my parents asked.

“When can I see you again?” He asked, running his fingers along my chin.

“Soon.” I promised, leaning into his touch.

“Can I atleast have your number?” He begged, handing me his iphone.

I nodded and punched in my number, hoping not to regret it.

“Goonight, FP.” I whispered, leaning across the console to kiss his stubbly cheek.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He called out as I exited the vehicle, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

I watched on as his car sped into the darkness, retreating back to the Southside.

I bit my lip in angst.

What had I gotten myself into?

#fp jones imagine #fp jones #riverdale imagines #jughead jones imagine

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rsanchezc-137 · 7 years

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Scarlett’s Ride

This is the first section I have typed up from the original hand written journal I kept while taking my solo-cross country trip on my Ducati Scrambler. Look up that bike and you will see how it was clearly not meant for touring. It is also literally cross-country being that I live in New Hampshire the second furthest state (not by much) from California. I don’t want to give away any details but it was a long, arduous, but most of all introspective journey that had me walking away truly a man if I wasn’t one before. I will keep posting as I get it typed up, I nearly filled the journal so there’s a lot of content to go through. I will be keeping it close to the original and any major changes I make from what I originally wrote will be clearly noted, anything else is just grammar, spelling or reworked sentences to flow better since this is technically a second draft. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed experiencing and then writing about it. If you do please share it to show your support.

Day 1 July 25, 2017

Though it is close to midnight, that hour has yet to to strike so therefore this entry can still in good conscious be dated as such. This is the first of soon to be many chronicling my (so far) long days on the road.

My trip started at 6:20 this morning and concluded at 7:44 according to my gps tracker. Holy balls what a long day it was! I said farewell to Mom, who of course had to send me off before going to work, and began my arduous journey across 4 ½ states ending in eastern Pennsylvannia, the same Allentown made famous by Billy Joel.

I knew it would be cold and damp before I left from the forecast and just looking at the sky as I finished getting ready to leave. However, it seemed that the further from home I got the more New England tried to bar me from leaving. I think by the time I reached Pennsylvania it realized I was more determined than deterred to not give up so easy.

I hadn’t been riding more than half an hour before I had to stop to add my full leather jacket to my layers. It was the VT border (and first fill-up) I also opted for my gauntlets over just my fingerless gloves. It was misty and wet but it wasn’t until the New York border I hit serious rain. The real kick in the ass was that it ended up drowning my phone before I could put it somewhere dry. Thanks to that my plan to explore Philly got shot so I could sort that problem out and still find a place to shack up for the night. Not the best weather for Day 1.

Despite the large, unexpected price tag for a new phone (including insurance this time) nothing was as frustrating as Jersey. It was a large portion of my time today. It rained even worse than in New York after having had some time to dry off. I had to go by memory to navigate the shitty highway system. Oh yea and traffic came to a screeching halt not long after the rain picked back up. At that point the rain wasn’t even what was pissing me off anymore. Sitting in dead traffic, as anyone who knows me know, drive me fucking mental, then add on being soaked through and the raw ass from being on a seat for so long that wasn’t meant for endurance trips.

Thankfully literally as soon as I crossed over Pennsylvania gave me reprieve from the rain and even some sun! My ass was still killing me at that point but I also didn’t have long left to go. As fucked up as it may be I have to say overall I enjoyed myself. I spent more time on my Ducati than ever and in a way proved to myself that I can keep pushing on even with a wrench thrown in my way so early on. It was very tempting to just turn around but I could never live that down.

Tomorrow I have another long leg to get to Columbus but it’s mostly Pennsylvania which really is quite beautiful. It’s also supposed to be much nicer weather-wise meaning I can really take it in and enjoy the ride. I’m thinking I’ll hit Gettysburg on the way to Ohio, it’s only a small detour and I’ve never been.

Mile Count: 398.9

Day 2 July 26, 2017

First, happy birthday to my older brother Greg. Second HOLY FUCK my ass!! Today was definitely a much better day than yesterday. It was mainly the fact that there was no rain. Pennsylvania was also much more beautiful the further I went.

Having said that there was a lot of fucking road to cover. It was really cool stopping at Gettysburg. Got some real cool pictures there. There was also one really cool place I passed with giant crayons hanging off the branches through a section of forest. The rest was all valleys and highway.

By the time I got to West Virginia my ass was already killing me. I took about a half hour break right after the border. I had to assess the damage to my tent, I also really needed to get off my seat.

I should not have listened to Mom and Mike about using a bungee cord to secure it. The thing ended up under my seat dangling right onto the tire. Somewhere after chewing out the bag and much of the fabric inside it tossed the poles. Tomorrow I’ll go with my original plan of clipping right to my backpack. I also had the idea to clip the gear bag onto my handlebars and rest that on the tank, solid move.

Ohio seemed to take forever. Until I saw how far I had left after the border I had no idea it was literally the middle of the buckeye state. Although at that point I was also counting every single mile and minute to reach my uncle’s house. Speaking off he’s pulling in the driveway now to let me in so I’ll wrap this up.

Official Mile Count: 497.9

Day 5 July 29, 2017

I skipped the last 2 entries because I was not on the road like I hoped. I spent a couple day’s at my Uncle Pete’s house to skip the rain. It was also a good chance to hang out with one of my favorite but furthest away relatives. It was time well spent too, we had some fun. It was still during the week so he had to work but when he got out we did still did the routine of hitting Donnerick’s until close. It was really quite uneventful save the Jerry incident.

It was Thursday so not many people were there as late as we were. It was a nice relaxing night until out of nowhere we hear “Bitch I want a fucking drink!” Apparently he didn’t like the fact that the bartender was looking out for him and wanted him to drink some water before continuing to be served. The other 4 of us immediately went quiet as the scene unfolded between Jerry and the bartender.

Long story short they go back and forth, him getting nastier and nastier towards her as she kept her ground insisting not to give him anymore without drinking water first. This is where it got good. He stormed out pissy temporarily barred from the bar. Dude hops in his truck and starts revving it like an asshole right outside the door. After that we’re guessing he meant to come back in to shoot his mouth off again. Instead he forgot he still had it in reverse and ended up stepping out of the truck while in gear.

Pete and I had both been watching very closely knowing that his car was parked outside and there was a belligerent drunk getting behind the wheel. As I’m watching the truck it starts to curve around back towards the building with him just outside the door trying to catch up to it. He must’ve been hanging onto the wheel to make it turn like that. He almost went into be building before he got back in and stopped it. He however still ended up steering right into another car in the lot pushing it a good couple feet in the spot.

Needless to say that move upgraded him to a full ban from the bar. He was just lucky that the guy who owned the car knew him well and took it well. Got the wife involved and made sure that it would be worked out without legal hassle. Mad respect to the guy for having a heart. I’d’ve been ripshit myself and done everything in my power to get the fucker off the road.

(This next part I had not originally written in the handwritten journal but I feel like including it)

The only other thing that happened in Columbus was my decision that I would not be avoiding getting high during the trip. It’s an introspective journey so I’d be doing myself a disservice to not be open to altering my mind, especially since I’m an experience stoner anyway. My equilibrium was fucked up more by not smoking to be honest.

Columbus being a college city I figured it shouldn’t be too hard to find any so while I had time to myself I hit the campus area. Honestly wasn’t too impressed. Probably the poorest college city I’ve ever seen (and I saw quite a few by the end of the trip). I kinda knew it would happen but I rolled with falling victim to the effect of what poverty does to people.

I think this was the first time where my fuck it attitude started to influence how I let things go. I asked around to a few people who looked like they knew where to find some if they didn’t have any themselves. One guy told me that there’s usually someone at the bus stop just down the street who has some. That guy was actually really cool and appreciative of the few bucks I gave him since I’m pretty sure he was homeless. Probably why I also let my guard down since he didn’t seem to know who would be taking my money so why would he lie to me?

Well there was a couple people down there who said they could hook me up. They didn’t have that much on them but could bring me to the source and grab some for me. We walk a few blocks and he takes my money and tells me to wait there while he went inside. I was in an amicable mood and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Some other guy came out about half an hour all pissed off I was standing so close to his stoop. I couldn’t tell if he was actually dangerous or just trying to pull the lone white boy in a black neighborhood card to scare me off. I didn’t let that scare me entirely I just didn’t want to piss him off completely and pull out his bitch ass 9 he probably was carrying. Had I not foolishly left my 40 back at Pete’s I would’ve seen just how much of a baller he was. Instead I just walked off a short distance down the road until he went back in. I waited about another half hour before finally deciding that was the first dude’s friend shooing me away and my hope for the poor black community was misplaced.

(Back to original journal)

Today was beautiful weather-wise so I hopped back on the bike. Hardly a cloud in the sky the whole day. Went through Kentucky and into the forest in Indiana. I made one stop in Ohio to check out Dayton given the historical significance in aviation. I have long accepted it will not be a career but I’ve wanted to fly for a long time now. Couldn’t resist visiting the Wright Brother’s workshop. My final destination for the day however was this place called Hemlock Cliffs in one of the National Forests. There are some really beautiful trails that I’ll have to post pictures of to Facebook when I get back Service.

I did stop in Louisville too to grab a bite to eat before my last leg into the forest. Treated myself to some real southern BBQ, and damn it was good. I ordered the beef brisket sandwich. The beef was smokey and practically fell apart. The sauce was mesquite, juicy, and succulent. Sorry Dad you’ve been beat. It was definitely the energy boost I needed to be able to lug my shit through the woods later on.

Was a good day riding too. It was still rough after a while but I think I’m starting to get used to the seat. I also didn’t go as far today as but still enough to say that if I do go for long days again I should be able to handle it. I really hope to get to Colorado soon though cuz I’d really like to smoke up.

I also could not keep up with my tradition of taking a picture of the sign as I cross the border. Where I came into Indiana there was no safe spot to pull over plus I almost missed it anyway being hidden in the brush next to the road.

It’s definitely getting dark now so I’m going to save the battery on my light/radio/hand-crank/solar charger to use on my phone since that’s hurting for power. Gonna utilize having downloaded stuff onto my tablet to watch a movie and go to sleep.

Official Mile Count: 284.93 + 28.11 cruising Columbus

#motorcycle #roadtrip #journal #journey #self introspection #America #cross country #solo #summer #life lessons #survival

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