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veryberrybrenda · 4 years

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Just One More Bet

Pairing: Adam Du Mortain x Lucia Langford

Prompt: Guilt

Notes: I goggled the French curse words because I don’t speak French, so idk if they are 100% correct. I’m sorry in advance. This is Day 5 of Wayhaven Week 2020 by @otomefandomevents

Respect was something that came easy to Lucia. Her work ethic in the office was what granted her the promotion to Detective after all. What people respected most about her was her ability to do what was needed. Whether it be staying late to finish paperwork or helping out Verda with his work, she was always the one who did what most people didn’t want to do. It was something she took pride in, that was the case until recently.

Adam made her question everything. He made her own body betray her. Pulse racing, cheeks flushed, voice stuttering. She was used to being the one with the cards in her hands, but the world decided her winning streak should come to an end.

But right now, she was in control. Perspiration made her bare feet slick against the blue mat. Her breathing was ragged as she kicked the punching bag. It stood its ground, barely swaying against her valley of kicks and punches, mocking her.

She had been getting better, thankfully, not a small part due to Adam. He had been sacrificing his brooding time to train her – make her stronger against those who wanted to hurt her.

Lucia hated the feeling of being helpless, having to rely on others. Being a burden doesn’t sit well with her independent nature. That was why she chose combat with Adam over research with Nate. Although she was better suited to learning about the weaknesses of supernaturals, with her unquenchable thirst for knowledge and all, knowledge itself, won’t stop a creature from snapping her arm off like it was some crispy taco.

Creak.

The sound of the door opening interrupted her assault on the punching bag as she turned to face the person responsible for the noise. Before even taking a glance, she already had a guess to who it could be.

Who else would train at 10 o'clock at night.

Standing at the doorway was a man with an approved expression, posture as stiff as always. “Your form is getting better,” Adam said, voice echoing in the large room.

“That’s progress,” Lucia panted, breathing rough from exertion.

Adam walked, his usual brisk strides, over to Lucia. His hand clasped behind his back as he eyed Lucia as though he were critiquing a piece of art. “Have your legs spread a bit wider when you punch. It will help you keep your balance better.”

A devilish grin formed on Lucia’s lips. This is too good. The man is setting himself up.

“Spread my legs. Got it,” she replied with a smirk, eyes searching for the slightest crack in his once impenetrable walls.

The flirtation only made Adam narrow his eyes, jaw clenched. “This is not some game, Detective. Your life is at stake.”

“I make fun where fun is needed. I heard it makes it easier to remember stuff,” Lucia quipped confidently as she awaited the leader’s comeback.

“Your life is no joke. It is precious to me- I mean us.” Adam’s eyes widen at his slip up, but he hastily plastered back on his stoic mask. “Besides, Agent Langford would be highly disappointed in me if something happened to you.”

His almost confession had Lucia blinking for a few seconds. Maybe there is hope after all. She just had to do what was necessary to get it out of him.

Taking a step closer, she fully gazed into his emerald eyes, searching for some sign of the real unguarded soul behind it. “Would you be disappointed if something were to happen to me?”

She saw it. The slightest twitch of his lips as he concentrated on maintaining his mask. “Yes, of course. It would be quite an annoyance to have one less team member to utilize during missions.” Although his expression was unreadable, his voice wasn’t. There was a slight pitch to it that betrayed him.

I hooked him. Now it’s time to see if the world will deal me a good hand.

This was turning into a gamble as she took another step, his eyes trailing her every move, but thankfully he wasn’t fleeing…yet. Rolling the dice yet again, she reached out to grab his hand, his fingers limp against hers. She could sense the smallest tensing of his fingers like he’s fighting himself not to hold her hand.

Lucia still gets surprised each time she feels the delicate skin of his palm. Where she expected them to be hard, rough, and calloused from his centuries of work, they were soft, smooth, and lacking any imperfection. He would make an amazing hand model.

His mouth opened then promptly closed shut with unsaid words. Adam’s pupils were blown, turning his eyes dark as the green disappeared. A battle is raging inside of those eyes. The man who wants to be set free vs. the vampire who has survived centuries of loneliness and pain. Lucia can only hope her bet on the former wins.

There is no better time than now to confront him. I just hope he doesn’t run away this time.

Her volume has died down to a mere whisper, “Adam, I want to say- “

As though he knew where she was going with this, he suddenly whips around, yanking his hand away from hers, and knocking down a wooden dummy in the process. Lucia flinches at the loud thud the dummy makes when it hit the floor. Adam just stares at the dummy menacingly as if its existence offended him.

After a few seconds of silence, Adam crouches down to pick up the dummy. His eyes still radiating hatred when he sees Lucia also couching down to help him.

“I got it!” Adam snarled, tone low and threatening.

“I want to help.” Her tone not making any room for argument, but Adam always seemed to find a way.

Adam grips the dummy. “I don’t want your help.” His voice coming out in a single breath as he heaves the dummy up.

She desperately tried to think of something to say - to prevent his walls from rising up again as he wipes the dust off the dummy. Clenching her hands, she builds her resolve that she hopes will be enough to stand against a 900-year-old vampire.

“Tu Omnia.” It comes out as more of a command than a statement, which she hopes Adam will obey.

The phrase had Adam’s body freezing up like ice, his back, taunt as it faced her.

“You are everything.” She said the phrase slowly, afraid that if she said them a little too quick, she would’ve spooked him. This time, raw emotion spills into her voice, making Adam’s knuckles tighten over the wooden dummy, fingers white.

“Where…did you hear that?” Adam questioned accusingly.

Determination filled Lucia once again. “You told me that just before the medication kicked in after the fight with the trappers.”

“I…never said such thing!” Adam shouted defensively that emphasized his continued digging of his grave.

She crossed her arms, anger starting to simmer inside of her at the man’s lies. “Just ask Nate. He was the one who translated it for me.”

“No, you’re wrong!” An animalistic snarl escapes from his lips. The wood under his fingers finally break with a snap. “Fils de pute (son of a bitch)!” Adam curses in what she assumes is French as he chucks the broken wood aimlessly to the side. He throws it with so much force that it shatters the mirror beside him, sending shards scattering everywhere.

Without a word, she bends down to pick up the shards on the ground. Adam is still turned away from her while she silently cleans up the collateral damage, something she has gotten too used to doing.

Unfortunately for her, she made the terrible mistake of forgetting that she’s bare foot and she steps on a shard, a subdued scream escaping from her lips.

“Fucking hell!” She shouts angrily, while clutching her injured foot. Crimson drips readily from the sizable shard embedded in the center of her foot.

Maybe it was the pain of her wound or the frustration of being lied to by the person she trusts the most, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. She felt tired. Tired of pretending that it didn’t hurt every time Adam would show her a piece of his heart then proceed to snatch it away, leaving her to deal with the consequences. She knew this was no way to live her life, but if she was honest with herself, she was addicted. Addicted to seeing him smile at a joke she made or when his gaze would soften around her. Living 900 years alone had its baggage, sure, but her stupid heart couldn’t help itself. She’s neck deep in her bad habit that she just can’t bring herself to quit.

Maybe I’ll win the next round, she keeps telling herself, but the cards were slipping from her hands and she was powerless to stop it.

She would never be able to quit Adam Du Mortain for as long as she breathes.

Tears were forming in her eyes as her own walls that were meant to defend her, came caving in, trapping her under the rubble.

Lucia’s scream pulls Adam from his state and he instantly appears behind her in a blur, arms wrapped around her waist as he gently eases her down on the mat away from the broken glass. Her hands are coated in warm blood. The aroma of it overpowered his senses, crying out to his primal side to surface, to drink it, but he suppresses it as he tucks a piece of stray hair away from her face that have come undone from her ponytail.

Her black eyes always fascinated him and the same time, annoyed him. They gave him a hard time because he could never see her pupils that mixed with her black iris. Not that he has to of course, her hammering heart always was a telltale sign of her true feelings - ones that he tries his best to ignore, for his sake. They were two black holes, reeling him in and refusing to let go until he was consumed by them. They contrasted nicely with her bright lavender hair that set her apart from everyone else, but right now, he wishes he could see those eyes.

Lucia’s bloody hands covered her dark eyes as she chokes on her sobs. The sight of her in such a state because of him made his heart constrict in guilt.

Crying didn’t come naturally to her, so it wasn’t the glass that had tears racking her body. It was something else – something that he refuses to acknowledge because once he does, he won’t be able to stop himself. The only time he had seen her cry was when she visited him when he got injured by the trappers. Her tears had weakened his walls, which made him say those words that he wished he could take back. Tu Omnia. The DMB had made his mind weak and it slipped out before he could stop himself. She hadn’t brought it up since and he thought she didn’t hear it, but he was surely mistaken.

He admired her tenacity. He would shoo her away and she would still find a way back to him like some lovesick puppy. Her fighting spirit reminded Adam of himself. He would sacrifice anything for his team – and for her. So the sight of her broken and beaten in his arms caused him to feel like a failure. He failed to protect her from danger – failed to protect her from himself.

I wish you could see how much you deserve someone better than me.

Adam laid a hand under the back of her head to hug her closer to him, hoping that it would offer her some peace in her battle to find the shadow of the man that had been lost to time. Her head instantly tucked into his chest, and so he did his best to shield her from the dangerous world that threatened to destroy who she was. He was glad that she wasn’t able to look at him because if she did, his walls would’ve instantly came crashing down.

Sliding one hand under her legs and the other under her back, he lifted her up bridal style in his strong arms. Her cries had turned into small whimpers now as she struggled to regain her composure. She felt lighter than he expected – smaller, more fragile. Her tendency to project strength, just like her mother, almost made him forget how delicate humans actually are.

As Adam was in the process of carrying her to her room, he passed by Nate, who instantly rushed towards him, expression worried as he took in Lucia bleeding and whimpering in his arms. Adam had hoped that no one would notice, but everyone must’ve heard her cries by now.

“What happened?” Nate asked, brows knitted in worry.

“Please, not now Nate.” Adam pleaded. He hoped that his old friend can understand the look in his eyes to back off.

Nate must’ve understood. “Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Can you clean the broken glass in the training room?”

“Of course.” Nate replied softly. He quietly walked away, something that Adam found oddly strange, given his size.

With no more interruptions, Adam arrived at Lucia’s brightly decorated room. He was glad that the lights were off because the bright colors made his sensitive eyes hurt.

He slowly eased her down onto her bed, her hands stubbornly refused to let go. He had to peel them off of his waist, which wasn’t difficult since her lack of energy meant her resistance was weak.

He was no stranger to treating injuries. During his time as a human, he was an expert at stitching himself up, a skill he learned growing up as a knight. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, running it under the tap. He also knew where the first aid kit was.

Under the sink cabinet and next to the shampoo bottles.

He memorized this detail when he helped Nate set up the room for her first stay at the Warehouse. With her being so clumsy, it was an extra precaution that had paid off.

He came back to Lucia, quiet and staring at the white ceiling, eyes swollen and glossy from crying. She slowly sat up when she saw him, black eyes still in a state of distress. He tried to ignore the way her sad eyes followed him as he began his work.

He gently grasped her ankle, glancing at her when it was time to pull the shard out. She understood his look and slowly nodded as she turned her gaze away from her foot. Adam firmly gripped the shard in his fingers and with one swift motion, yanked it out causing a whimper from Lucia. He quickly stopped the fresh flow of blood by cleaning it with the wet towel, her muscles tensing from the pain. After all the blood was cleaned, it was time for the most painful part. He poured the alcohol on a cotton ball and did his best to be quick and efficient. A few hisses signaled her pain. He was now wrapping her foot in gauze, careful not to make it too tight so the wound can breathe.

Once he finished, she still refused to look at him, her jaw clenched tightly.

It’s better for you to hate me. That makes it easier.

Thinking that there was nothing else he could do to ease her suffering, Adam stood up from the bed, but a small, weak hand gripped his arm, still fighting to keep him from walking away.

“Please, don’t leave.” It was mixture between a whisper and whimper that had Adam retreating back to the bed, Lucia’s hand still clutching his arm as though it was a life preserver in a stormy sea.

“I’m here, Luc.” He reassured her, eyes softening. “I won’t leave you.” He surprised himself at how naturally the words flowed from his mouth

“Can you lay next to me until I fall asleep?” She whispered, eyes pleading.

Even if Adam wanted to, no words would have come out of his mouth, so instead, he nodded and laid back on the bed, pulling the quilt over Lucia and tucking her small head in his chest. He could sense her heart slowing down as she drifted away from reality, but what he didn’t expect was his heartbeat to slow as well, synchronizing with hers. The familiar rhythm combined with her comforting scent of cherry blossoms lulled Adam to sleep, one where his nightmares wouldn’t dare touch him.

#wayhaven week 2020 #the wayhaven chronicles #adam du mortain #I really thought I would make them kiss at the end but where is the fun in that #I'm still waiting for a confession in the real book smh #I'll be 50 and this man still hasn't confessed #i hope you didn't cringe that much at this

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thegoldofyourheart · 4 years

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Summer has Come (and will never pass)

Summary: August survived. His brothers didn't.

(Takes place between chapters 74 and 75 of The Gold of Your Heart)

Word Count: 5526

Pairings: Gen, August & Seth & Toby, August & Logan, August & Remy

Warnings: Survivor's Guilt, Grief, Depression, Blood, Slight self harm, Implied Suicide Idealization, Anger

Notes: In which this author puts too much effort into a character we never really saw,,,, but don't worry, we will ;)

AO3 Link

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August ground his teeth together. His feet echoed against the hardwood of their- his house. His fingers curled against his palm. He relaxed them. They curled again. Ants crawled under his skin, and his eyes landed on the pile of dishes in the sink. Cleaning would help. Pacing would help. Doing anything– especially the dishes– would distract himself from the thoughts in his head.

Like the fact that it was supposed to be Seth’s turn to do them-

August whirled on his heels and stormed out of the house. He could hear pictures rattle against the walls. Part of him hoped they’d crash to the ground. Shattered glass would fit his mood better than the taunting image of Toby’s smile and Seth’s arms around his shoulders and-

August’s fingers curled around his jacket. He couldn’t even stand to look at the picture by his bed - not that he had slept; though if Remy found out, he’d be dragged to a bed by his ears - the one that had been taken when they first moved into their house. And god, did that thought hurt too. Dragging more kindling to the fire that licked at his chest.

They moved because of him.

When the little house in Anton’s village didn’t fit them anymore, they packed everything up and moved to the capital. Toby had chattered about how excited he was to see Nate more often. August had followed Seth’s directions on where to put everything, wanting to make himself useful. Still a little confused, but already coming into himself.

When two became three.

He was the youngest. August swore and kicked at the nearest tree. It rattled and leaves fell down around him. Fragile, like everything else in the Imagination at the moment. Fragile, like him. He wasn’t meant to be alone.

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From the moment he went from faceless to August, Seth and Toby had been there.

Roman’s proud face echoed back at him, but more than that, the pair of arms that wrapped around each side of him stuck with him more.

“Ha! I’m not the youngest anymore!”

“Technically, you never were-”

“Let me have this, Seth!”

Seth’s chuckle vibrated through his new form and August blinked at the feeling. Toby’s face covered Roman’s, eyes sparkling and grin wide. August stumbled over his feet as Toby pulled him forwards.

“Come on, we have so much to show you!”

Toby’s hand held his left. Seth gripped his right. A trail of three that Roman laughed with as he tagged along behind them. August’s wide eyes darted around to take in the sky and the buildings and the warm feeling of Seth squeezing his hands. Clothes brushed against his skin, a brand new jacket declaring him to the world. He glanced back at Seth. Seth grinned at him.

“Welcome to the world, little bro.”

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

“August?”

He twitched. Logan appeared in the corner of his eye and August kept his head facing forward. He followed familiar paths down the empty Capital. It would take a while for the faceless Constructs to start reforming, and even longer for the fully-fledged Characters to trickle back into their homes. He nodded at the few Constructs he saw here and there, but otherwise kept his hands shoved in his pockets. Logan’s footsteps echoed with his own.

A coal of anger sat on August’s tongue, but the weight of silence held it down. The glass that held the whole world in a bubble burned at him. August bit down on his bottom lip. He vibrated with each step. He walked even faster, mouth turning down into a sneer. He wanted to chuck his anger at the glass, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to pick up the pieces when he shattered.

Seth and Toby would be so disappointed.

He turned abruptly down another street. Logan’s footsteps stumbled and hurried to keep up with him. August had heard the news. Logan was the reason they still had Roman; Hecate had been clear on that. He should feel grateful; losing Roman would have hurt just as much. He bit down on his tongue, tasting the salt of his own blood bloom.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask why Logan hadn’t helped everyone else. He glared down at the fresh cobblestone. It wasn’t-

It wasn’t home anymore. He’d have to relearn the marks along each street. New Constructs would come back. August’s fingernails cut into his palm. The pale emptiness held nothing. No smell of fresh bread from the bakeries, no wind from witches and pixies flying overhead, no music from musicians. No Nate up at the castle. No Toby waiting for an adventure. No Seth waiting with dinner at home.

No Anton to visit.

Logan’s hand pressed against his and August jerked away from the touch. He didn’t realize that he had stopped in the middle of the street. He clenched his fists even tighter to keep from shaking.

“What do you want?” he snapped. The injuries along his back that were still healing ached. For a wild moment, he thought it had been a mistake. He should have died. He should have bled out and joined his brothers wherever they ended up. He was never meant to survive.

“To assist,” Logan said simply. August snarled at him. Logan’s steady eyes felt like ice water on his anger, creating an explosion of steam. August took a threatening step forward, but Logan held his ground. His eyes narrowed briefly, and in that moment he looked so much like Seth it took August’s breath away. He spun around and stormed down the streets again. Logan followed.

“And to apologize,” Logan said softly. August twitched. He glared up at the sky. Nothing wheeled through the blue and August wondered when they’d get birds again. Birds or dragons or anything really.

“What for?” August kicked at the ground and cursed, bitterness curling around his tongue. “It wasn’t like you killed them or anything.”

“I didn’t do much to help either.”

August squeezed his eyes shut. He turned and slammed his fist into the nearest building. Blood dripped down his knuckles, and pain raced down his arm. It didn’t help with the fire. He wondered if Hecate could turn him into a dragon, one that could roar out the fire in his chest and burn everything down. Until even the pain and grief went up in smoke.

“Just fuck off, why don’t you?!” He spun to glare at Logan, blood hit the cobblestone, just like it had that day. “You got what you wanted from me, what more could you fucking want?”

“I told you: to assist and to apologize,” Logan repeated.

“I don’t need help!”

Logan’s head tilted to the side. August’s shoulders slumped. His hands trembled. He reached up to press his hand against his face. Tears prickled in his eyes. The memory of smoke drifted passed him, and August swallowed thickly. He wanted Toby. He wanted Seth. He wanted someone, anyone.

He wanted his big brothers.

“Just leave me alone.”

Logan’s hand wrapped around his arm again. The warmth of his fingers felt starkly gentle. Logan’s eyes softened, and August’s chest went numb. He let Logan tug him back towards his house. Logan’s grip tightened on him, just enough to keep him from stumbling.

“I am sorry,” Logan said, “for the loss of your family.”

A choked sob escaped August’s throat.

“And I apologize for intruding into your space, but I believe that you should not be alone at this point in time.”

“Okay,” August whispered. “Okay.”

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Toby’s hand wrapped around his wrist, adjusting his grip on the sword. August shuffled back as Toby nudged his feet gently apart. Seth waited patiently, his own sword pointed towards the ground in front of him.

“I don’t see why I can’t just learn how to use a gun,” August scowled down at the metal stick in his hands.

“Oh we’ll get to that next!” Toby grinned at him. “Swords are just, like, traditional. That and some things are immune to guns. Others are immune to swords. We’ll get to play a fun guessing game of what is what once you’ve reached that point!”

“I don’t see-”

“You’re the one who wanted to join us on Quests with Roman,” Seth pointed out reasonably. August turned his scowl to Seth. He hadn’t thought that it would lead to this. Quests had sounded like one big act. Swing a sword, spend time with his brothers, help his creator and friend. Not whatever the hell this was.

“There’s a little more to what we do than, like, acting,” Toby said. His grin split his face. August twitched, anger dying in the face of his brother’s glee. He let out a slow breath, blowing the hair out of his face. Toby had been made to be likable, popular, the one everyone paid attention to, and he certainly lived up to that.

August wanted to be like him.

“Fine, fine!” August tightened his grip on the sword. Toby poked at his fingers until they loosened. “Just one more round.”

“Oh yeah,” Toby’s eyes danced, “Just one.”

They left him bruised and sweaty in the grass, panting for breath. Toby also coaxed laughter from his throat, and Seth promised to bake his favorite for dinner that night. August figured it all evened out.

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August blinked slowly at the wall across from him. He flexed his fingers against the blanket around his shoulders. He would be more comfortable if he moved to the side of the couch where he could curl up in the corner. But that was Toby’s spot. Toby sat on the left, Seth sat on the right, and August sat in the middle.

He wouldn’t say that he slept, but his mind drifted. A cool grey emptiness that hovered on the edge of rest and waking. He could almost convince himself that the shuffling from the kitchen was Seth. Toby would walk through the door at any moment, and throw himself onto the couch. August would complain, but rearrange himself so his brother could lean his head on August’s lap while he prattled on about his time with Nate and Remy.

Logan crossing his line of sight killed that dream.

August twitched as Logan set a plate down in front of him. He stared at the pasta and vegetables laid out in front of him. His breath caught in his throat. He knew that Roman wasn't the best cook; Toby had joked about it enough after all. Something about seeing a different Side cook just as easily as Seth had-

Logan didn't sit down next to him. August hated that he was grateful for that fact, for the fact that he could play pretend a little while longer. He wanted to pretend that they were still in the middle of that crisis. He would have preferred that they were still discussing the best way to get Logan's core from Apathy to save Roman than sitting in this bleak aftermath.

Anything over missing his brothers.

“I admit,” Logan said as he sat stiffly in one of their- his chairs, “I didn't recognize some of the spices in the cupboards, and I'm not entirely sure if Constructs need to eat to survive, but-” Logan paused and fiddled with his ties– “it does help us Sides in a mental capacity, so to speak. So I would encourage you to have regular meals.”

August stared at him. “You don't need to eat?”

“No exactly,” Logan said slowly, “We eat in the sense that Thomas eats. Any nutrients that he gets are what we get, along with however he pictures us. Much like how I assume that your physical capabilities are based less on your appearance and more on how Roman believed you could perform. We eat in a mental capacity, as I said, for mental health. The act of consuming food helps us feel as if we are alive. Hence,we are more balanced and, in turn, healthier.”

August didn't get it. Logan's face slowly turned red and he pushed his glasses higher up on his face.

“Thomas believes that we need to eat,” Logan said finally, “and so we do.” August made a noise of understanding the back of his throat. God, you'd think being imaginary would make life easier, not more complex. Seth would have-

August clenched his jaw.

“If you don't mind,” Logan said softly. “I am willing to help make sure that your house is in order and clean up anything that needs-”

“Don't touch their rooms.”

Logan shifted back slightly at August's growl. August glared at him, refusing to feel guilty about it. He wasn't- it had only been a couple of days since they had died. He didn't want to think about funerals, about what to do with their rooms, to-

“Alright,” Logan said simply, easily, with the same sort of breath that he had confronted Apathy with. “Their rooms will go untouched. May I check out the rest of the house?”

August gritted his teeth. He nodded, if only to get Logan out of the room. He listened to Logan's footsteps retreat and stared at the plate of food in front of him. Alone again, even with someone in his house, August curled in on himself and tried not to cry.

The blanket around his shoulder slipped away, just like his happiness. It fell down and away. Fell like the way that his world had fallen to pieces around him. August couldn’t find the energy to pick it back up. He curled in a tighter ball and drowned in the darkness around him.

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“You have brothers?”

August blinked at the sudden voice. He looked up from the map in his hand and made eye contact with Logan. He frowned at the Side and looked around the alleyway.

“Is it alright for you to be here?”

Logan nodded, a sharp certain gesture. August shrugged. Alright then, so long as Roman didn't end up in danger because of it, August couldn't care less. They had shit to get done after all. He looked back down at his map.

“Yeah, I have two brothers,” August said, letting his eyes cut over to Logan. “Seth and Toby. September and October.”

Logan hummed to himself and August reached out to tug on his arm to lead him down the twisting alleys of the Capital. Finding something that would work between the Imagination and the rest of Thomas' mind was a pain. Constructs didn't leave after all. But if Logan's plan was going to work they needed one.

Their best bet would have been Roman or Hecate, but Logan insisted that they couldn't go to them so here August was. Scouring the back alleys for someone who did the stupid or impossible or just plain weird.

“Do you-” Logan cut himself off. August waited. No one spoke slower than Nate. August could have patience. Sometimes. “Do you get along with them?”

August felt a grin spread on his face.

“Depends on what you mean,” he stopped to look Logan in the eye. “I would die for them, if that's what you mean. They're the most important people in my life. I love them.” He reached out and flicked Logan in the shoulder, “I also want to murder Toby every time he tries to foist dish duty off on me because he has another party.”

The tip of Logan's ears started to turn red, the exact same way that Roman's did. And wasn't that adorable? They were related in a sense.

“You'll figure things out with Roman,” August said, waving the map through the air, “Now come on, this bog witch is said to have figured something similar to what we need out, maybe you can modify it.”

He gripped Logan's arm and dragged him deeper into the Capital.

“You'd die for them,” Logan said under his breath and August tilted his head to the side. That one probably wasn't meant for him. Well, too bad for Logan that he was the Construct that he picked rather than Seth.

“Yeah, but more importantly,” August shrugged, “I would live for them. You know?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, “Yeah, I believe that I do.”

August grinned at him.

“Good, now let's get a fucking move on.”

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“So, hey, bitch.”

“Fuck off,” August snapped at Remy. Remy stared at him and took a long sip from his drink. August tried to glare him down, but broke first, glancing away. He stepped away from the door and let Remy into the house. His house.

“I hear, like, you have a new friend that, like, has been the reason you're not falling apart.”

“Logan's not my friend,” August muttered. He could feel Remy's eyes on him again, heavy and judgmental like they always were. He could never leave well enough alone could he? “He just- feels guilty.”

“Least the hoe is taking, like, some responsibility,” Remus said. August turned to look at him, something light and airy about his ton that screamed Remy was pissed about something. Remy waved off August's narrow eyed gaze. “He's also like, totally tattled on you.”

Remy threw himself onto the couch, and spread his arms out headless of the drink in his hand.

“So! Come on, like, I'm here to talk and whatever. Spill your like, goddamn heart out bitch. Talk to momma, we'll make it alllll better.”

“Fuck you.” August didn't move from the doorway. He clenched his fist and wished he hadn't let Remy into his house. Not if this was how he was going to act. “Not unless you want me to ask about Nate.”

Remy flinched. August let the action slide down his throat in satisfaction until it landed with heavy leaded guilt at the bottom of his stomach.

“At least like, I'm coping,” Remy said softly; dangerously. “I'm doing better than like, both you and Roman.”

August froze at the name.

“Roman? Is he-”

Remy waved his hand through the air again and took a long sip of his tea. His eyes roved around August's house. The dirty dishes had been cleaned up (by Logan), the dust and debris from the attack had been piled and bagged into a corner (by Logan), and the house had been scrubbed down (also by Logan). August shifted his weight on from the heels of his feet to the balls and back again. Waiting.

“He’s like, not the best,” Remy finally said, setting his drink down on the table in front of him, the cape around his shoulders rustling. “Rushing off looking for like, a wild goose chase? Maybe? I dunno. He's got, like, that hope of his again.” Remy looked at August over the top of his sunglasses. “Logan like, thinks it's not gonna happen anytime soon. So like, we could say he's like, sorta coping.”

“Great,” August said. “So why are you here and not with him?”

For a moment, Remy just looked tired, and August finally took a step forward. He sank down on the couch next to Remy and sighed. August slouched down, and Remy leaned against his side. It felt wrong, to have someone other than Toby lean against him. It felt so right to finally have someone do it.

“You're my fucking friend.” Remy paused. “Bitch. Where else would I be?”

August shuddered against him.

“‘m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his face into Remy's hair. “About Nate.”

“Yeah, well.” Remy fell silent. They didn't speak for the longest time, but then again, August wasn't sure if they needed to. There were holes that would never be filled, silences that would never end, and pain that couldn't be changed. At least they still had each other. August lifted his arm and wrapped it around Remy's shoulders. Remy wormed an arm behind him and tightened his grip around August's waist.

August blinked as Remy finally broke through the silence of their steady breathing.

“So like, Hecate has like, jobs for you to do now,” Remy said, reaching for his drink. “If you like, want them.”

August looked around his empty house. At the pictures on the wall and at the window. The Capital sat still and quiet. Toby would have wanted to be out there. August took a deep breath

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, where do I start?”

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

August’s grip on the hilt of his sword tightened as the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon. A few of the trees around them creaked as the shadows lengthened enough that they all blended together. In the distance, because Roman was that sort of drama queen, a wolf howled.

“Are you sure about this?” August asked. Toby laughed and shoved another tree branch out of the way. August’s hand snapped out to stop it before it flew back into his face. Bastard.

“Yeah!” Toby bounced on the balls of his feet. “Nate said that he’d meet us there and that like, it was the best place to see the meteor shower.”

“If there’s even one in the first place,” August grumbled.

“Well,” Seth said mildly, “If Nate’s there, probably. After all, he probably asked Remy which means-”

“Remy would do anything to make that happen for him.” Seth and August chimed together. Toby rolled his eyes.

“Guys, dudes, men, bros, brothers-"

“Shut the fuck up already,” August shoved him forward a little more, and Toby’s pout turned into a grin. He waved a finger in August’s face.

“You can’t make fun of him for it,” Toby told him, “If only because then he’ll get sad and we won’t get to see the meteor shower and Seth made all those like, great snacks for us to eat while we’re here.”

“Oh yeah because-” August cut off as they stepped out of the tree line. The sky spiraled into stars above them, the clearest that August had ever seen. Impressive considering where they lived after all. Nate waved at them, and August waved back on autopilot. Toby laughed at him. Bastard.

“Come on,” Toby tugged at his arm, “It’s only getting started.”

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

August tugged lightly at his horse's reins and stared out at the village below him. It didn't look too different from here. He only had brief memories of Anton's village though. From adventures with Toby, Seth, and Roman. The lights from the houses still looked the same and from this distance, it didn't look like any of it had taken the same sort of damage the Capital had. August had heard the School had some high casualties as well, even if it hadn't been torn down. He shifted in his saddle and patted the neck of his horse.

He took a breath to steel himself and nudged him forward. Hecate wanted him to check in on some new Constructs, help them get settled in and make sure they were alright, the usual. Since Roman was caught up in something with Tony, and Hecate and Remy had to get things reconstructed, that left August. Normally it would have been Anton, or Nate, or even Seth-

August shook his head. He could do this. Seth used to greet new Construct; he wouldn't shy away from that. His hands gripped his reins even tighter, until the tips of his fingers started to tingle and lose feeling. It couldn't be that hard.

A few of the older Constructs nodded at him as he rode by, and he nodded back. He didn't stop to talk, heading towards the house that Hecate had told him to head to. He slid off his horse and gave him a gentle pat on the flank before tying him up. He adjusted his jacket, and ran a finger through his hair.

He could do this. This was fine. He was fine. If he did this, maybe he could prove that to Logan and Remy.

He took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

All the air in his body rushed out of him as it swung open. Surprised eyes blinked back at him. August's eyes skimmed over the label on the Construct's jacket and spun on his heels. No. Nope. No fucking way. He couldn't-

There was no way he could deal with his right now. August swung himself back onto his horse and urged it into a gallop. Hecate and Remy could both burn in hell for all he cared. He wouldn't.

August rode away as the new September called after him.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

Seth's hands wrapped over August's and August bit his lip in order to keep his growl from escaping his chest. He could feel Seth's chuckle against his back as he manipulated August's hands into the right pressure and movement for the pastry dough under their combined palms.

“This isn't like bread,” Seth said, tone even as the example he set. “You don't want to over work it or it'll fall apart once it’s in the oven. It’s delicate.”

“It’s dough,” August said, fighting the urge to simply curl his fingers around it and squeeze. Kneading bread dough was easier than whatever strange ritual this was. “It can’t be delicate. Delicate is for glass or for emotions or-”

“Or dough,” Seth cut in and August debated on the merits of turning around to strangle him instead of the pastry dough. The warmth of Seth’s hands left his own and his heart jumped to his throat. Wait, he wasn’t ready, he needed more direction and-

“You’re getting it,” Seth said, taking a step back to give him more room. August narrowed his eyes at the pastry dough. It didn’t seem any different from the other batches that they had made so far, but then again, he didn’t spend that much time in the kitchen. He preferred the sword practice with Toby. He felt his shoulders creep up towards his ears in frustration.

The budding eruption lost steam as Seth’s hand ran along his shoulders and then down until it settled as a warm support at the small of his back.

“Think of it this way,” Seth said, cheerful enough that August looked away to make sure that he hadn’t been replaced with Toby or something had gone horribly wrong or aliens. You could never count out aliens. “After the dough, we get to walk you through making the filling and then you have to wrap it and then bake it and-”

August felt justified in pulling a piece of the dough in his hands apart from the rest and shoving it into Seth’s face. Fuck him and his fucking baking. The next time they hung out, August was picking the activity. August finally let his growl loose and Seth just laughed at him, the sound echoing through the house and drowning out any real anger that August felt.

Alright fine, maybe some baking next time.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

August ran a hand over the glass of the picture in his hand. Toby's brilliant grin stared back at him; Seth caught in a moment of open, gut wrenching laughter. August himself stood in between them, one arm wrapped around Toby and the other thrown in the air in victory. He could barely remember what the moment was, only that it had been a good one.

Footsteps slowed in the grass as they approached him. August sighed and set the picture down to look up at the Construct. July blinked at him. And god was that a little strange, having a month Construct that didn't look exactly like him. Like Thomas. To be fair, she looked like Valarie and that wasn’t new. Just different.

“Do you mind?” she asked softly. August simply shifted over slightly so that she had room to lean against the tree with him. The shade of the leaves danced and twisted as a wind blew over them both.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling his legs up to his chest. He almost thought that he could pick out the other months below them. The hill that overlooked the village had a good vantage point after all. He remembered Seth explaining it to him. August felt pretty sure in saying that they had made use of it at least once.

“I'm sorry too,” July said, nudging him gently with her shoulder. Friendly, like Toby. “You gave September a heart attack, I do have to say.” August glanced at her from the corner of his eye to watch her face break out into a grin. “He thought December was trying to pull some prank or something.”

August hummed in the back of his throat. Some part of him felt weird to simply hear the names of the months. Maybe some of them would pick names or end up named, like Toby and Seth. Or maybe they'd be like him.

“I never thought there'd be another August though,” July mused out loud, “That's so cool!” Her arms flew into the air, and August turned to look at her fully as she wobbled in place. “You're like twins or something.”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the sharp twist of pain in his chest.

“We'd have to look alike to be twins.”

“Nu-uh,” July poked his shoulder. He leaned away from the touch. Her excitement faltered and August felt his face twitch. He didn't like it. Toby had been popular and happy. July felt different but similar in a way. They were both meant to be smiling. He reached out and poked her back in the thigh.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, as her eyes widened. “You're like our cousin or something, aren't you?”

August rolled that thought around in his head. His eyes drifted to the village, and then the mountains beyond it. He had a family already, in a sense. He also had friends. But if there was anything he knew about the Imagination, it was that it was always shifting. Always changing, growing, falling apart and putting itself back together.

“Yeah,” he said finally, and poked her thigh again. She giggled and poked him in the shoulder. “I guess that does make me something like your cousin.”

“Well then Cousin August,” she pulled herself up into sitting straighter, her chest puffing out, “Shall we go introduce you to the rest of the family?”

August's lips twitched into a smile as she held out her hand.

“Sure, why the fuck not?” She helped him up, and he couldn't help but ask, “So who's the coolest?”

“Oh!” She bounced on her heels, “It's December without a doubt! You know he said I was going to be in charge of Christmas once? Coolest. Thing. Ever. You'll love him! Then again I'm not sure our August loves him so maybe you won't? I'm not sure anymore-”

August shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and took a deep breath. July glanced back at him, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

“Coming,” he said, and took a step forward. He'd get there eventually.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

August glowered as Toby glanced at him and howled with laughter again. He waited as Toby had to grab the tree to keep standing and the way that Seth’s grin grew and grew and grew and-

August hoped both of them hurt after this. He had claws now, he could make them hurt. Out of all of them, he expected them to have his back. Remy let out a low whistle and August couldn’t help it. He hissed. The fur all along his back puffed up as his claws dug into the earth, all of which just set Toby off once again.

“You’re, like, the most adorable little, like, bitch that I’ve ever seen,” Remy said.

“A- A- A- A kitten,” Toby tried to say, “It- It- It turned him- him into- into-”

August’s tail swished behind them. He hated all of them. He really truly did.

“Fitting,” Seth said, kneeling down to his level. August hissed at him too. Seth wriggled his fingers. “Come on August, let’s go get you fixed up.”

August huffed but climbed into Seth’s palm. After all, between his brothers’ there wasn’t anything that they couldn’t get done. As embarrassing as this was, August wasn’t worried. He curled into a ball in Seth’s hold and ignored Remy’s mocking coo.

Seth and Toby would make it all better. Eventually.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

It wasn't the same. August knew that. It would never be the same again. But he was coping. Moving on. Grieving and maybe one day, he'd even let go. The other month Constructs were trying. They promised to check up on him, and August was going to try to check up on them in turn. He wasn't ready to be a brother again, but maybe he didn't have to be. Family didn't end in siblings after all.

He thought that maybe, finally, things were going to be alright.

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

“Hey.”

“Oh you don’t, like, need to sound like that August, come on!’

“I just- I’m sorr-”

“Uh-uh, nope, none of that. Listen there’s nothing that would make me stop loving you, alright? Seth agrees with me, right?”

“Right, nothing.”

“......I love you too.”

“See? Chin up August, things are gonna be alright.”

~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~

But then Logan needed his help, and August-

August wasn't going to lose anyone else; even if it killed him.

#Sanders sides #side story #logan sanders #august sanders #remy sanders #toby sanders #seth sanders #october sanders #september sanders #july sanders #blood #slight self harm #suicide idealization #survivor's guilt #depression #grief

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captainscanadian · 4 years

Text

Exception | Carter Baizen x Reader (Part 6)

My Masterlist

Summary: You needed Carter. You needed BOTH of them.

Word Count: 6100+

Pairing: CEO!Carter Baizen x Lawyer!Reader, Nate Archibald x Caroline Baizen, Chuck Bass, Lily van der Woodsen, Serena van der Woodsen (mentioned).

Warnings: Swearing, Gossip Girl References, Drugs, Infidelity, Car Accident, Blood, Trauma, Hospital, Teenage Pregnancy

A/N: This is my entry for @baezen‘s writing challenge. A lot of you have been calling me out on things and I must admit that I’m impressed. I’m so glad you all seemed to figure out that there was a child involved. And for those of you who didn’t... SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS! Y’all might get Dad!Carter in this fic! I don’t own the gifs. ELIF, GO AHEAD AND YELL AT ME… SAB, I LOVE YOU. THEORY ANON, LETS SEE WHAT YOUR THEORY IS NOW. :P

It was no joke that Caroline Baizen had spent so many months planning her perfect wedding to Nate Archibald, but she had spent many more months planning her perfect honeymoon with him. It was supposed to be just the two of them in their honeymoon suite at the Burj Al Arab Jumeirah, soaking up the sun on a yacht at the Dubai Marina and making love to each other like the newlyweds they were before they both had to return to the chaos that was the Upper East Side of Manhattan. All of that planning went to shit the moment she got that phone call, saying that her brother had been hit by a car outside of the Gramercy Tavern and had been rushed to the hospital.

Though the police officer who had been kind enough to contact her did not have many details about Carter’s condition, Caroline could not help but hope for the best while expecting the worst. Her heart was beating right out of her chest as she feared for her brother’s life, her husband holding onto her as she sobbed against his chest. It was as though the limo was moving way too slow as she and Nate were on their way to the hospital. She was worried, and scared, for she did not want to lose the only family she had left. Losing their parents in a car accident had been bad enough as it was.

Carter and Caroline never shared the best of sibling relationships, not since he had first cut ties with their parents and left the Upper East Side for good. But when he had returned from being held by the Buckley’s, she had seen that he was a changed man. He had promised her that he would change his ways and do right by everything in his family; he would do right by their parents and he would do right by her. He had done just that since then. Losing their parents had been hard on the two of them, but they got through it together. They had always had each other. But now, even when she had Nate, Caroline felt alone. She did not want to lose her big brother.

To say that Nate had been worried sick about the fate of his brother-in-law would be an understatement. But he was also aware that Carter had plans with you that evening, thanks to Annalise and her commitment to updating him about what was going on between you and Carter since the wedding.

A part of him was worried about you as well. After all, he knew how much he meant to you. Even though in the exterior, you acted like you hated him, Nate knew that you would always love him. Perhaps that was why he had been calling your cell phone ever since Caroline had come crying to him about her brother. But unbeknownst to him, your phone had slipped out of your hand during your fall and shattered on the side of the road, and you had abandoned it for the man who had just saved your life in the matter of seconds.

The man who had saved your life in a matter of seconds was also the man whom you had always believed to be your apocalypse. You had always believed that he was the final destruction of your life. You had blamed him for ruining your life for years, but now he had saved it too.

The reason why you were possibly alive at this very moment was because Carter Baizen had pushed you out of the way and taken the hit from that speeding car. It should have been you and your stupidity. You took all the blame for the fact that your ex-boyfriend of fifteen years was now laying in an operating room with his skull open.

It was as though the guilt that you had been living with for the last fifteen years was not enough. It was as though you needed to be punished even more for having run away the way that you had and for keeping your secret for as long as you had. As if the fact that your whole truth had been eating you alive was not painful enough that it kept you awake at night, you had to face the worst of the consequences that had been caused by your mistakes.

How were you supposed to live with your whole truth like this, especially after Carter had now saved your life? Perhaps it was a blessing and a curse – a blessing was that you had survived the accident with a few scratches and the curse would be living in a world where Carter Baizen was dead. You did not want to live in a world without him.

He could not die, not like this. He had been alive when you had found him lying in a puddle of his own blood. He had been holding onto his dear life and then you had also been holding onto his dear life in your hands when the ambulance had driven you down to the nearest hospital. Your hands had been laced with the crimson fluid that had bled out of him. His blood in your hands, literally.

A team of doctors and nurses had rushed Carter upstairs to operate on him the moment you had arrived at the hospital. His head injury had been a priority. Meanwhile, another doctor had managed to bandage up your bruises.

You made no noise while the exhausted ER doctor worked on you. You did not yell. You did not cry. You did not expel any of the emotions that urged to spew out of you as you held a clean tissue against your nostrils, blotting the last of the blood that dripped down as you had finally stopped crying.

The doctor thought that your newfound calmness it was because you were still in shock from the accident – you were frightened by witnessing your loved one getting struck by a car. It was common for most patients to experience such trauma. But the way you had managed to respond to her queries in with the nod of your head or one word at a time made her realize that you were indeed... lucid. You were not completely traumatized, but you clearly knew how to stay in control of your emotions.

You wanted to break down. You wanted to cry. But what was the point in that? Carter Baizen, the love of your life, the father of your child, was lying lifeless in an operating room somewhere. The father of your child. He was the father of your child and he was lying lifeless in an operating room somewhere...

What kind of a mother had you been? What kind of a mother keeps the secret of becoming a mother from the whole world? What kind of a mother willingly chooses to keep the father of her child as far away from her child’s life as she possibly can? What kind of a mother puts the life of the father of her child in danger? What were you going to tell the fourteen year old you had left behind in London when you had boarded that plane back to New York City? What were you going to say when the child you had birthed and raised on your own gets here in a few days and asks you about her father?

Once the doctor had finished up with you, a handful of nurses had helped you get cleaned up. You could see the pity in their eyes as they helped you into the shower. They must have known from the lifeless look in your eyes, that the man who was being operated on was someone who meant so much to you.

Carter was not some guy you had once dated, no. He was the only man you had ever loved truly. He was the only man who made you weak and vulnerable. He was the only man who knew the real you. He was the father of your child.

Turning on the water, you watched as Carter’s blood dripped away from your skin. The scrubbing may have removed his blood from your hands now, but metaphorically his blood was still on your hands. It was your fault that he was lying lifeless in an operating room right now. He was the father of your child.

Apparently the doctor had told the police that you were in no emotional state to provide a statement, so the kind sergeant who needed to file the report had decided that it was best to give you some time to recover from the incident and return in the morning. Needless to say, you were grateful for that. While you had changed into a fresh pair of scrubs that the nurses had handed to you, you hoped and prayed that Carter would make it out alive from this.

You had always wanted the best for him, even when you had loathed him. Even when you hated him, you loved him. Even when he had ruined everything you had planned for your future, you had wanted him to have a good life.

You never wanted him to suffer for what he had done. You never wanted to punish him even more than you already had. You had convinced yourself that he not knowing that he had fathered a child was punishment enough for the way he had treated you fifteen years ago.

But now, you knew that this punishment was not for him. It was for you. You were being punished for keeping this from him for as long as you had. The possibility that Carter might even die not knowing that he had a child was weighing you down like a boulder. He might even die not ever meeting his child and it was your entire fault.

The moment you arrived in the waiting room to see a crying Caroline Baizen rushing over to you, a worried Nate following right after her and a concerned Anne Archibald grabbing onto your numbing body, that was when you had finally broke down. You knees were weak and your legs were growing numb. You felt your body losing all of its strength as you finally let out the emotions that you had kept bottled up for the last fifteen years all at once.

“Y/N!” Chuck Bass was quick to rush over to you before your knees hit the tiled floor of the waiting room, helping you up and leading you over to the nearest chair so that you could sit down. His lips curled into a frown when he saw you in this state, for he had always known you as this strong spitfire of a young woman before you had fled the Upper East Side. The Y/N he knew never broke down like this. But he also knew that you had always loved Carter and seeing him get hit by a car must have crushed you.

Lily van der Woodsen had sat down right next to you, her arm wrapped tightly around you as she let you sob against her shoulder. Perhaps her maternal instincts had kicked in when she had seen you like that. She had always seen you as another child of hers, perhaps because she had once dated your father.

While you had been against her relationship with your father as a whole and had rejected all of her attempts to be a part of your life, she still felt some kind of love for you. She had forgiven you for being that selfish seventeen year old she knew. She knew that you had grown up now and you had apologized for the way you had treated her then. That was all that mattered to her. She knew that your mother was out of town and at that moment, so she figured that you probably need that kind of support.

No one in the Upper East Side was a stranger to what you had with Carter Baizen. The two of you had been the closest friends since you were young. You had dated during your high school years and you had both fallen in love with each other. While no one knew how your relationship had ended or why you had left New York for good, they all knew that Carter being in this condition would have been hard on you. So, they were all there to offer you the support that you needed while either of your parents could be present.

“It was all... m-my fucking fault...” You whispered between the sobs, the salty tears dripping down to your burning lips as your head began to feel heavy. “I was... crossing the street and... I wasn’t paying attention, I...” You could not get yourself to replay those scenes in your head.

Seeing the way he had been thrown off into the air and the way he had looked up at you before he had fallen unconscious had been burned into your memory forever. He made you realize how wrong you had been about everything for the last fifteen years. He was no apocalypse; he was your savior. “C-Carter... saved my life... he... h-he...” As you felt another sob, Lily hugged you tightly.

You cried as much as you could, in order to be rid of your guilt. But no matter how much you cried, your tears could not make up for the time that you had lost with Carter. Your fifteen year old stupidity had now cost him his life and the woman whom you had refused to accept as your new step-mother back then was now the one who was comforting you. This was your punishment.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. He’ll be okay...” Lily rubbed your back, gently. “I just spoke to William. He’s in surgery and they’re working on him. He’s going to be okay...”

“No, he’s... he was bleeding so much. His head, he... his head was bleeding.” You looked down at your hand that had been drenched in his blood earlier. Even though it had been clean, you could not forget the image of his blood all over it. “He’s... he’s...” You pulled back from the hug to look over at Caroline, your lips curling into a frown as you realized that you had taken away from her the only family she now had left.

You felt like a monster for being the reason behind her brother’s accident. Everything that had ever happened to you had been your doing, not his. “He’s... he saved my life.” Your lips quivered as you stood up from your seat and made your way over to the younger Baizen, your heart breaking at the sight of that little girl whom you had grown to love as a sister long before she had even married into your family. “Caroline... I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. It was my fucking fault. I wasn’t looking and now he... he saved my life but it should have been me. It should have been me.” You fell down to your knees as you grabbed her hands, sobbing louder as you looked down. “It should have been me...”

Caroline shook her head at you. “Y/N, no... Don’t say that. He... he must have had a reason for doing what he did and I respect that. He’s not a selfish guy and if he thought that saving you was more important than saving himself, then I respect that.” She admitted with a nod, sobbing harder as she held onto your hand.

“He’ll be okay. He needs to be. He’s made his mistakes but so have we all. He should be able to live his life like we all do. He’ll be okay.” Even though she felt lost and confused without her brother by her side, she was hopeful. Carter had been through so much and he had turned out alright. She knew that this was just another obstacle that her brother had to cross before he got to live the life he truly deserved.

A few hours had passed as you sat in the waiting room with Nate and Caroline. Lily and Chuck had both left once you had calmed down. You knew that the only reason the two of them had even bothered to be at that hospital in the first place was for you and not for Carter.

While Lily had been a close friend of your father’s over the years, your knowledge of the feud between Carter and Chuck was also reason enough for you to believe that Chuck had no respect for Carter. But you appreciated that they cared for you, considering what you had done.

You had loathed the Upper East Side and the people in it when you had run away so abruptly. But now, not only had the Upper East Side had welcomed you home with open arms, you had also had an entire support system of people to make up for the lack of familial support. You did not deserve any of it.

It had been early morning when you had finally received news from the nurses that Carter’s surgery had come to an end. You overheard the neurosurgeon that had operated on him telling Caroline that he had suffered a traumatic brain injury – while he was alive; they could not be so sure that he would wake up from that. They had given him forty-eight to wake up, and if he did not wake up by then, Caroline had some decisions to make.

While a part of her had been glad that her brother was out of surgery, Caroline broke down once again at the revelation that Carter might not make it. You might not have been a medical expert but you had witnessed just how bad he had been injured; you knew that he was not going to make it out of it that easily.

But you did have some hope that he would make it out alive. You needed him to make it out alive, for your sake and for the sake of your child. The realization that you had indeed taken Caroline’s only family away from her had dawned on you suddenly. But Carter was not only her family. He was yours too. As she broke down in tears again, so did you. But you were quick to step out of the waiting room, away from her gaze.

You found yourself in an empty hallway by a medical supply closet and you began sobbing once again, pacing back and forth as you realized how much you had fucked up. You had fucked up. You knew you had fucked up. And now there was no going back. There was no going back in time to fix the mistakes that you had made.

Nate hugged his wife tightly as she sobbed, rubbing her back as he watched you step out of the waiting room. He turned over to look at his mother with a frown, hoping that Anne Archibald would finally come to her senses and have some empathy for her new daughter-in-law.

The woman gave him a nod as she walked up to the two of them, her hand gently placed on Caroline’s back. “Sweetheart...” She frowned, pulling her into a hug.

“Anne, I can’t lose him...” Caroline shook her head as she cried. “I can’t...”

As he let his mother calm down his wife, he made his way out of the waiting room for a moment. He looked around the hallway before he heard your soft sobs, and following the sound of your quiet cries, he found you leaning against the wall next to the medical supply room. “Y/N...” He frowned at the sight of you, immediately rushing over to your side. He pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/N... come on, you can’t break down like this.”

“Nate, I never wanted any of this to happen...” You admitted as you sobbed against his chest. “I wanted Carter to be away from... I never wanted him to... no, not like this.”

He stroked your hair as he began to tear up; remembering the last time you had been a crying mess like this. It had been fifteen years ago now, when you had called him before you had left for London.

You had confided in him your secret, which he had kept with him since then. Not even his own wife ever came to know the truth, even though she did have every right to know of your whole truth. “Y/N... you need to calm down. The doctors did say that... whether he wakes up or not... it’s not like they were sure that he won’t wake up. They just said that... all we could do right now is wait.”

“I’ve waited long enough, Nate.” You sniffled as you pulled back from his embrace, wiping away your tears as you felt a drop of blood streaming from your right nostril. “What even is the point of waiting anymore? He might not even wake up. He...”

Nate was quick to reach into his pocket and grab a handkerchief. He handed it to you as he sighed, wrapping his arm around you as he held you close. He had always been your pillar of strength when it came to Carter. He had kept your secret for fifteen years now. But he knew by now that it was about time that you told the truth to everyone. He knew that you must have been thinking about that, as he was too.

You dabbed at your nose as you fought back the tears. “I need to call Carter.” You let out a sigh as you nodded your head, trying to convince yourself that you were sure of what you were about to do. “I need to call Carter right now.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” He asked you, biting down on his bottom lip. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What even is the point anymore, Nate?” You asked him as you broke into another sob and shook your head. “He might not even wake up. He might not... he might never know and it’s all my fucking fault!” You cried. “I was such an idiot, Nate! I was such an idiot for doing what I did and... now he’s... what am I going to do? What am I going to... I have to call Carter.”

Nate gave you a nod as he agreed with your decision. He had always stood by the decisions you had made for yourself, even then and even now. Even if he did not agree with the choices that you had made, he had kept your secret for as long as he had.

He often wondered why you had chosen to call him that night and tell him the truth. Perhaps, it had been for an unforeseeable reason. It was because he was the only one who could give you the support at this very moment.

“Nathaniel... it’s me.”

“Y/N?!”

“Nate.”

“Y/N, what the fuck?! Where are you?! We’ll all been worried about you!”

“Nate, calm down... I’m okay. I’m fine, I... I hopped on a boat from Santorini and got back to Athens. I’m taking the train in a bit... going up to... T-Thessaloniki in the northern part of Greece. I’m going to be on the move for a while so I wanted to speak to you before I left on this journey. I had to speak to you, you know, in case I never get to speak to you again. I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on?! What? Are you running away?!?!”

“This guy... Spiros... he told me that I could get to Romania from Thessaloniki in like a day... and then I’ll be in Bucharest for another day and then I’m taking another train to... Budapest and then another day to Munich. Paris, I can get there in like ten hours...”

“Y/N, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you taking a train trip around Europe like this? What’s going on? Your dad’s worried. The cops found blood in your hotel room and Carter was questioned.”

“I... I know that there’s a lot going on right now and I hate to do this to you. Don’t tell him... either of them... but uh... I’m going to London. I’m going to see my mom.”

“Y/N, you’re... couldn’t you at least call your dad and tell him that you’re okay before you leave?! He’s been worried sick!”

“Nate, listen to me... I can’t talk to my Pop about anything right now. He... He’s in love and it’s blinded him. If I told him what happened, I know he’s not going to take my side in this. I need to get to London. I need my mom, okay? I really need my mom right now!”

“What’s going on?! Carter’s been asking about you... what happened between the two of you? He said he’s worried sick! What happened?!”

“Nate...”

“Y/N, please tell me the truth. What happened that night? Why did you leave Santorini?”

“Nate, I... I can’t tell you.”

“Y/N, please... we’re family. You called me for a reason. You have to tell me the truth.”

“Promise me... that you won’t tell anyone. No one can know, not my Pop and not Carter. Not your mom or dad. Not even Chuck.”

“Y/N...”

“Promise me, Nate!”

“Fine... I promise. I won’t tell anyone. You have my word, Y/N. Now tell me what’s going on... please?”

“... I’m pregnant.”

“What?!”

“Nate, I’m pregnant... I’m pregnant and it’s Carter’s. And I can’t do anything about it... because he... he cheated on me, Nate! He cheated on me with Serena. He went to a party and she got him high and they... he told me that he loved me and he went off and slept with Serena. He told me that I was his one exception and he knocked me up. He slept with me and now he slept with Serena. I... he cheated on me with Serena and I’m fucking pregnant with his child!”

“Y/N, what- that son of a bitch! Why haven’t you told your dad? Why haven’t you called him?! Please, just fucking call him! He’s worried sick!”

“Because... he loves Lily and... if I told him the truth, I’m scared that he’s going to take the van der Woodsen’s side over mine. Believe me, Nate. He’s done it before and... He treats Serena like this perfect princess and I can’t live through that. He’s never treated me like his daughter ever since she came into the picture and... it’s only going to get worse now. I know I disappointed him. I know that he had all these plans for me and... I went off and got pregnant. I can’t go off to Yale now and take over the company like he’s always wanted me to. He’s going to hate me.”

“Y/N, you can’t leave... you can at least talk to him about it. You can try to figure things out. Come back to New York and figure it out.”

“I can’t go back to New York, Nate. I can’t... Carter is no fit to be a father. He’d rather go off and party and get high than... he’s not going to change his ways. I know him. I thought he had changed and that he loved me but... he went off and cheated on me. I’m not going to bring his child into the world thinking that he’d want a part in that. I’m done putting my faith in him.”

“Y/N, come on... you don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to. You don’t owe him shit! But you can’t leave New York over this! You have your dad, you have... all of us. We’re not going to let you do this alone.”

“I’m... leaving, Nate. I’m leaving and I’m never going to come back. I know that... New York is home but... the Upper East Side is not a paradise like I always thought it was, Nate. I’ve had some time to think about this. Our parents gave us a shit tonne of money since we were kids... credit cards with no limits and trust funds... we were spoiled rotten. I was spoiled rotten. I was so caught up with spending my dad’s money and having the time of my life that I never thought about the consequences of any of this... I was an idiot. I was a spoiled, irresponsible... stupid little shit and I ruined my own god damn life. It was all my doing, Nate. I don’t know... what any of our parents were thinking when they raised us the way they did. But... I’m going to be a mom now and there’s a child that’s growing inside of me... a child that’s going to come into this world because I was stupid enough to fall in love with the wrong person. Now I’m seventeen and I’m pregnant, all because of the way I was raised. I don’t want my kid to grow up the way I did... I don’t want my kid to... have a credit card at thirteen or... weekly shopping trips to Saks. I don’t want my kid to... be exposed to alcohol and drugs at a young age. I don’t want my kid to... get drunk at prom and get knocked up in the back of a limo or... get high after a party and cheat on anyone. I don’t want my kid to be any of what I’ve become, Nate... that’s why I’m leaving. I’m not going to let the Upper East Side ruin my child’s life like it ruined me. It’s for the best.”

“Y/N...”

“I love you, Nate. I love you so fucking much, don’t ever forget that. I’ll always be the big sister you never had but... I might not see you again for a while.”

“Y/N, don’t leave... Y/N, please don’t do this.”

“I’m going to miss you, Archibald.”

“Y/N... please...”

“You’ll come visit me in London, right? You won’t forget about me... right? Come see me when you can, okay? I don’t want you to... I love you so much, little bro. But this is for the best. It’s best that I stay away from all of this, for the sake of... your niece or nephew.”

“I love you so much... and please stay safe. Please... don’t leave me hanging. Call me when you get to London and... Call me? Talk to me every now and then... just so that I know... that you’re okay. Y/N... please... don’t let me go like you’re letting go of the Upper East Side.”

“I... should get going, Nate. My train’s about to leave soon and... be careful out there. Tell Chuck not to get in too much trouble and... Don’t let him get you in too much trouble either. I know that Blair Waldorf has a thing for you but... don’t sleep in your feelings for Caroline. Get your shit together, Archibald... because your big sister’s not going to be there to give you any relationship advice. You’re on your own now and you’re going to have to figure shit out yourself.”

“Y/N...”

“You’re going to grow up without me... but I know that... you’re going to make me and all the van der Bilt’s so fucking proud. I’m sure of it, Nate. I love you so much and I’m going to miss you so fucking much!”

“Y/N, don’t go- Y/N!”

Nate Archibald pulled out his phone as he looked over at you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You nodded, wiping away your tears and holding the handkerchief against your nostril. “I should have done this fifteen years ago, Nate.” You admitted.

You should have done this long before. Even though it was probably too late now, it was better late than never.

Nodding his head, he dialed the number that he had saved in his phone for years now and put his phone on speaker. He had not called this number in a while, probably ever since you and he had a brief fall out regarding his mayoral race.

But the moment he heard the call go through, his heart began to race. He knew that the moment this call had been picked up, every single one of your lives would change in an instant.

“Hello? Uncle Nate? Uncle Nate, is that you?”

“C-Carter...” You breathed out a sigh of relief, hearing you daughter’s voice at a time like this. At least you could say that one of them was alive and well.

A part of you was worried about how to break the news to her. Your relationship with your daughter had already been rocky in the last few days, ever since you had left her in London and moved right back to New York.

She had not been happy about you choosing to stay in New York for your father’s sake. After all, London had been where she had been living since she had been born, not to mention the fact that you had sent your mother to bring her to New York instead of being the one to do that. She had been pissed at you for days.

“Mom? Mom, why are you calling me from Uncle Nate’s phone? I told you, I don’t want to hear it! I’m getting tired of telling you and Nan over and over again. I’m not leaving London!” Your fourteen year old daughter groaned into the phone.

“Carter, sweetheart... just listen to me for a sec...” You bit down on your bottom lip as you fought back the tears.

Nate rubbed your back gently as he held you close. “Come on...” He mouthed, knowing that you have to be the only one who should be informing this to his beloved goddaughter.

Carter Eleanor Lydia Y/L/N, even though she was now his niece by marriage, is his goddaughter and that was never going to change. As the only one who had kept in touch with you since you had left New York for good, Nate had been the only one other than your parents and Annalise who knew of her existence. He had been honored to have been asked to be your child’s godfather. After all, he knew that you had trusted him with your child’s life even though you had not even trusted her own father with that.

Not even her own father knew that he had a child and if he does not wake up now, he might as well die not even knowing that he ever had a child. You had told yourself that you were punishing him by keeping your little Carter away from him, but you knew that the only ones who had been punished by this were you and your daughter.

You had always told her that Carter Baizen was her father and you had told her why you had purposefully kept her away from him. While she did not agree with your decisions at first, as she grew older, she began to understand why you had made the decision to raise her on your own. As much as she missed having a dad growing up, she knew that her mother was strong and resilient. She respected that.

But that did not mean that she did not ever want to have some kind of relationship with her father. She wanted to know him as much as she wanted him to know her. But you know that the chances of that happening now were slim. You needed her to come to New York now more than ever!

“Mom... is everything okay?” She asked you, worried about the tone of your voice. Your daughter knew you well enough to know that your voice was trembling. She wondered if something must have happened to your father and not hers, for your father’s health had been the reason why you had returned to New York in the first place and insisted that she move here for the time being as well. “Mom, what’s wrong? Is it Pop? Is he okay?”

“Carter... i-it’s... Pop’s fine, he’s fine... But... C-Carter, it’s your dad. He was in an accident last night and... it’s not looking good.”

“What?! Mom, no... no no no, mom...” She broke down. “Mom... he can’t... no... he doesn’t even know me! He can’t... mom, don’t lie to me!”

“Carter, I’m not... why would I lie to you about this? I’ve always told you the truth when it comes to your dad. I never lied to you about who he was. You knew everything about him... since you were ten. I’m... I’m sorry, baby. This is all my fault, I know... but I need you right now and so does he. C-Can you... can you... your Nan has the private jet on stand-by and she’s packed up most of your things already. Can you... I need you to come to New York as fast as you can, baby.”

“... I’ll be there.”

#togwc #exception #aj writes #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter baizen x you #carter baizen x y/n #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen fluff #carter baizen series #nate archibald #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fic #gossip girl fanfiction

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

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I want to tell you... (Nathan Drake x reader, part 2.)

Description: Nathan Drake is not the exact definition of an unhappy man. His job is steady, his friends still see him from time to time, he plays football, but his marriage is his main problem. Many things will change when a special person comes to his life.

Word count: 1100 (-/+)

Warnings: None, Nate is just talking with Sully, because he has no other father figure.

“Kid. Ya know well that this old man,” - Sully pointed his thumbs to his chest as he took the soccer outfit down and smoothed his hair dripping in sweat. Sully was in his late fifties, but he was a fitness God, basically bitching Nathan about his lifestyle. - “Is definitely not a source of good information, I tell ya.” - Sully slowly wiped his face from sweat, letting a few drops on his mustache. It irritated Nate a bit, be he stayed silent, watching Sullivan.

Victor Sullivan was his longtime friend, more like a father figure than a casual friend. He took care of him and his older brother since Nathan was around fourteen. And since Sam died in Panamian prison, Sully was on his side, protecting him like a furious dog and bitching him like if he was his wife.

He owned Sully his life, he saved him many times during their gigs. In his eyes, no one could replace Sully, his sense of humor, his disgusting Boston accent and reason of a sly fox.

“I know, thank you,” - Nathan looked on his mustache as he took off his own clothes. - “But you're closest to being my father, we both know that.” He was asking Sully some relationship advice. It was more than a week since he vomited into Chloe's toilette and since that, she was declining his offers to have a proper drink. And since Chloe didn't want to speak with him at all, Nathan had to humiliate himself in Sully's eyes.

“Stop freaking me out. If you're my son, then my son is a source of the public threat,” - Sully chucked and Nathan playfully bumped into his shoulder as he put his shirt on. They were both sweaty and dirty, but they never showered after a soccer match.

"But you get along with that redhead chick, isn't that right?" - Nathan looked at Sully with the smile of a nasty boy. Sully took off his shorts and started to tuck into his denim trousers.

"Hey, who told ya?" - Sully furrowed his brows. So it was the truth after all - Sully was officially dating a girl. Sully found someone who made him excited when was Nathan simultaneously losing his grip on his own marriage.

"The bird was singing at my window," - Nate chuckled, slowly tidied up his dirty clothes into a small plastic bag.

"And do those birds have a name?" - Sully asked, being a little bit annoyed. Everyone was bitching around his relationship because he was always a ladies' man, everyone just kept asking him about details, they were nosy and he felt uncomfortable and really, really annoyed. They were just dating, not like they were about to marry.

Nathan was at the opposite side of that topic. He was already married and the birds were whispering about the bad things that were about to come.

“If they do, I don’t remember.” - Nathan looked at his friend once again as they left the changing room. Their local team, which Sullivan and Nathan were playing for together, had won this match - but everyone could feel that the reprisal match will be a living hell for them to keep at the top of the local league. - “So is that a no?” Nathan opened his old car as he put his bags on the co-driver's seat.

“No for what exactly, kiddo?” - Sully put on his sunglasses and fired a Cuban cigar on his lower lip.

“No helpful relationship advice?” - Nathan took a sip from his bottle of water mixed with lemons and grinned when the sourness hit his tongue.

“I told ya very clearly that I am not some marriage therapist.” - Sully breathed out a cloud of cigar smoke as he watched Nathan with a frown. - “Maybe this advice has some value in it. Find a therapist, they might help ya. What do I know?”

And so Nathan left drove to his empty flat and he chose the longest path just to stay on the outside for the longest he could. Sun was gently shining, it was a warm summer evening after all, and the wind was breezing calmly. It was his most favorite time of the whole year. He loved when he had the time to pack a bag and just go to the beach.

Nathan loved to feel the wet sand between the fingers of his feet, and he even appreciated when some random chick smiled at him when she checked him out. He was a fine man after all, or at least he was sure of it. And none of his friends had the courage to tell him otherwise.

When he drove next to the coast, he just watched as sea fought with the sand, he smiled when he saw those couples who had a dog or a child with them because he always found children’s and dogs’ reaction to the sea washing them completely adorable.

There was a long road made from asphalt, which had a lot of chicks wearing only shorts and bikini top rollerskating on it. He smiled to his hand leaned into an opened window as he watched the bluest sky he ever saw, slowly fading into some dark rosy color. He frowned because for the first time in that week he had the time to have a relaxing day at the beach because Elena was still away, but the meteorologists said that it will be heavy raining tomorrow.

When he got home, he opened the windows fully and made sure that the curtains didn’t hinder the light mood of that evening, but even if his and his wife’s flat was opened like that, he felt alone.

He hasn’t any more people that he could call to - Chloe was trying to lay dead when it came to Nathan, Sully wasn't exactly the best listener on the world when it came to relationship stuff, Charlie Cutter was back in London and he didn't like Rafe Adler that much to hang out with him. Nathan was all alone inside the walls of his own apartment.

He decided to take a long shower, read some more pages of his favorite book and then go to sleep really ea because he called his boss if he can spend some more time in the kitchen of the restaurant he worked in to make the perfect Creme Brulee for Sunday's party they were intensely preparing for.

And his boss gladly agreed.

#nathan drake #uncharted #heyy #have a lovely day #we’ll be there soon #i swear #nathan drake x reader #yay #fanfic

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mobius-prime · 4 years

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169. Sonic the Hedgehog #101

Welcome to the once-planned hundredth issue, everyone, and there's something at the end of it that has made me lose my freaking mind. You know my penchant for calculating meticulously every tidbit of information that the comic gives us about thing like square miles/kilometers, planet size, orbital height and whatnot. It's become almost something of a running joke in this series. Well, we've hit the peak. After this issue, absolutely nothing that the comic throws at us anymore can possibly compare. Just. You. Wait.

Altered States

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Frank Gagliardo

We left off last issue with Sonic realizing to his horror that Nate is still trapped within Robotropolis. He rushes back toward the city to try to save him, but before he gets there the energy dome goes up once more, causing him to bounce back off it painfully. And right as he does… everything changes. Suddenly, he and Tails once again have their classic designs, and find themselves facing down… Metal Robotnik?

The world appears to have strangely shifted sideways into an alternate reality based on the Sonic OVA. Sonic and Tails work together to battle Metal Robotnik so they can enter Robotropolis and save the princess (Princess Sara, that is), and along the way Knuckles, in his trademark cowboy hat from the movie, hops in to offer his help as well. Unfortunately, they all become cornered… but then reality shifts again. This time, Sonic finds himself witnessing the betrothal of Sally Acorn to Knuckles, with both King Max and Locke happily commemorating the union of the two families after seven years of an official alliance. No one is roboticized, and there appears to be no sign of a war or of Robotnik. Sonic becomes upset at the proceedings and races off, wondering how things came this far.

He heads to Uncle Chuck's chili dog restaurant to have a heart to heart with him, during which time we find out that ten years ago Julian's coup was nipped in the bud before it even began, with the only casualty of the whole affair ultimately being Sonic's father, who was still roboticized from Julian's sabotage. Apparently in this reality, the entire kingdom has been at peace ever since, and everyone has been happy except for Sonic, who feels, as he puts it, like just "the kid who's dad is a 'bot." Uncle Chuck encourages him to still treasure his unofficial ties to Sally, and once again… reality shifts. This time, Sonic and Sally have been cornered at the edge of a building by Robotnik while on a mission, and while pretending to surrender, end up jumping off the building, straight into the path of an airship flown by their friends, who rush to save them.

As they fly off triumphantly, both Sonic and Sally are suddenly overcome with a strange feeling that none of this is right. Sally recounts a dream she had about being engaged to Knuckles, as well as having an older brother and still-living parents, all of which Sonic can remember as well. As they puzzle over how they somehow remember the same events, reality shifts yet again. Sonic finds himself standing alone in a room, with tears gently dripping from his face onto a photo of Sally, marking another rare occasion of Sonic actually shedding tears. His roboticized parents come to retrieve him, and he sadly walks outside… into a funeral party.

As he and his friends mourn over Sally's death, Sonic finds himself suddenly overcome by strange memories - memories of defeating Robotnik, and of kissing a very-much-alive Sally after her miraculous recovery from her injuries from the fall. He stands up, announcing to everyone that Sally isn't actually dead, and as they doubt his mental health he continues to insist that it's true, that he and everyone else, including Sally, have just escaped Robotropolis with the Robians and are returning to Knothole - and all at once, reality rights itself. He finds himself staring at all his friends just outside the energy dome over Robotropolis, and everyone stirs, feeling as though they've all been dreaming. Sonic wonders if Eggman is behind all those weird reality shifts, but Nate informs him that it's not, that Eggman wouldn't work with a plan that's so scattered and that the random nature of the shifts indicates that whoever is behind it isn't fully in control of what's happening. Sonic realizes this isn't the correct reality either, as Nate shouldn't be here with them, and as Nate worries that these shifts could cause reality itself to become unstable, in a single moment Nate morphs into Uncle Chuck, finally bringing reality back to the way it should be… with Nate still trapped inside the city.

And thus, the band leaves the city and heads back to their own village, sadly leaving Nate behind, remembered as the hero who saved them all.

Reboot

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Dawn Best Colors: Frank G.

So who exactly was behind all those reality shifts, then? Well, of course, it was the work of Green Knuckles! Back on board the Dark Legion's battleship, Julie-Su privately confronts Knuckles about his decision to ally himself with the Legion, demanding he explain himself. He surprises her by saying that in the end, Tobor's death influenced his decision - that Tobor died full of anger and hatred, and he felt it all, up to the moment of impact.

Despite Julie-Su's misgivings, Knuckles asks Dimitri for advice on controlling his newfound powers, to which Dimitri reminds him that now that he's essentially a living Chaos Emerald, his powers are almost unlimited. Knuckles then gets the idea that he could possibly travel through time, to prevent any of the negative events of the past centuries from taking place at all, and despite Dimitri warning him that not even he himself had wanted to try something so risky, Knuckles is able to bring himself back to the very day that the Floating Island was first raised from the land. Realizing that everything bad that ever happened could be traced back to the island being created in the first place, he uses his powers to destroy the comet before it can hit, so that the scientists never have to raise the island at all. He finds himself confused why he still exists at all, considering that this should have solved everything, but then out of nowhere, a massive earthquake hits, knocking him off his feet…

He suddenly comes to back on the battleship, as though nothing happened. Dimitri again warns him about the foolishness of trying to change the past, but Knuckles simply calls him a coward and prepares to try again. Dimitri reveals that as far as he knows, there's only three junctions within time where he stands a chance at actually fixing things, and the comet strike was the first, so Knuckles decides he's going to go back to the other two junctions, leaving us on a cliffhanger.

Whoo, those were some pretty intense stories, right? Well, we're not done yet! It's been a long time since we got extra supplemental material like a map or a character profile, but we get both in this issue! First up we have a character profile for Sally Acorn, most of which is just a recap of previous events and is therefore mostly known to us, but which is still worth going over. It's noteworthy that both this and the next page were, though not credited, clearly written by Penders - it has his art and writing style all over it, and furthermore Sally's page has a big ol' picture of her making out with Geoffrey even though that weird era has long since passed us by. Furthermore, he's decided to make up his own various units of measurement without actually giving us a translation for them into real-world units, meaning we have to do a bit of math and guesswork. Sally's height is given as "73 marks," and her weight as "6.5 stone." We don't have any real-world units to compare these measurements to, but what we do have is Sonic's height and weight from the games. He has a later data file for himself, so using his measurements from that later file and comparing them to his measurements from the games, assuming they're equivalent, one mark is worth about 1.43 cm or 0.56 inches, and one stone is worth 4.86 kg or 10.69 lbs. From that, we can easily find Sally's height and weight in real-world units. She's about 104 cm tall or 3′5″, and weighs around 31.5 kg or 69.5 lbs. That seems reasonable, especially given the small stature of most Mobians.

Sally's birthday is also given as the 186th day of the year. On Mobius, the year length is the same as ours, but they don't appear to use months, merely marking the passing of time throughout the year by counting the days. Converting this to something we can understand, this means that Sally was born on July 5. The only other really noteworthy thing in the profile is the statement that she began to officially lead the resistance against Robotnik at the age of thirteen, and that "more than a year later" Julayla died and she acquired Nicole. Now we know when those events happened - just before the Sonic In Your Face special. This would mean that, if she and Sonic are sixteen now, it's been two full years since that issue. I know continuity has always been a little weird in this series concerning how much time takes place in between major events, but two years seems about right, and seems to fall in line with what I've estimated earlier, if she and the others were only around fourteen during the majority of the first two eras. If anything, it's really nice that time actually passes over the course of the comic, whereas the games often seem to take place in some kind of nebulous world where time doesn't really progress and Sonic is forever fifteen.

And now, we come to the second data file: the Floating Island.

I've included the whole page, because we are going to need all of it. I first overlaid this map with the previous one that we were given in the first issue of the Knuckles miniseries to check how well it held up, and to my surprise it matches up perfectly, even down to the most minor of locations - Penders must have traced this map directly from the other one, and just flipped it on its side. The only big differences are the location of Mount Thunder, which was not mentioned at all on the previous map, and the gray area at the right side, which is what the island lost due to the hit from the quantum beam. Right off the bat, we're given the surface area of the island. It used to be 57.75 square metrons, but after the quantum beam it it's been reduced to 41.35 square metrons. That's a reduction of almost 30% in size! I dunno about you, but that gray area does not look like 30% of the total landmass to me. But whatever - all they lost was uninhabited desert, so it doesn't affect the plot much and we can just chalk it up to a small discrepancy or something.

But this does bring us to the very important question of, how much is a metron, exactly? Well, we know from my previous calculations that the surface area of the island is (or rather, was) 2,325 square miles or 6,022 square km in area. Now, calculating the length of a metron in proportion to a mile or kilometer is a lot harder when all you have to work off of are equivalent elliptical areas, so I contracted my math-genius girlfriend for help on this one, and through the power of overcomplicated diagrams, frantic internet searches, cobbled-together formulas, and shameless guesswork we ended up with this: there are roughly 6.34 miles, or 10.14 km, to one metron. Fair enough! This wouldn't be a problem, if it wasn't for the next two measurements given. Mount Thunder, according to this data file, is 1.79 metrons high, which translated into real-world units makes it a whopping 11.35 miles, or 18.15 km, high at its peak. I know it's a bit cliché to use Mount Everest as a reference for Tall Things, but this mountain would be over twice as high as Everest if that is the case. And things only get even more ridiculous when you take a look at its "orbital height" of 6.83 metrons. Congratulations, Ken Penders, now I know you were never bothering to pay attention to scale. Forget our old outdated estimate of the island floating only eight miles high, because this translates to the island consistently floating 43.3 miles, or 69.3 km, off the surface of the goddamned planet! Do you have any idea how high that is?! That is smack dab in the middle of the mesosphere, far above the ozone layer, right around the height at which meteors start burning up on entry into Earth's atmosphere. That is almost twice as high as weather balloons float before they burst due to the difference in pressure. The temperature at that height would be around -60°C, or -76°F, which is almost exactly equal to the average temperature that Antarctica regularly experiences in its coldest locations and seasons. Breathable air straight up doesn't exist at that altitude. This one just blows every other previous absurd measurement out of the water. This is the thing that makes it clear, once and for all, that despite apparently being invested enough in this universe now to be creating fictional units of measurement for it, Kenders still can't bother to try to actually make sense of what he's created. Granted, this is by far one of the least objectionable things to emerge from his work, but as someone who pays a great deal of attention to these kinds of small details in worldbuilding, these kinds of errors are glaring. They're also hilarious, and I will continue to document every single one for posterity because this ongoing saga is probably the best thing to come out of me rereading this series by far.

Ultimately, the rest of the information related in the data file is either already known to us, such as the explanation of the island's history, or largely worthless. There are no real-world measurements provided to compare to "datrons," meaning that the "3.2" number given for the island's orbital period is indecipherable. If there were a comparable unit given, and if we were told which direction the island orbits (east-to-west or west-to-east) then I would probably have spent even more of my time calculating its average speed, as well as just how much longer or shorter a day is on the Floating Island due to its orbit, but that's just not possible for now, unfortunately. But the two data files in this issue are far from the last we'll see, so expect more analyses and calculations like this in the near future, cause lord knows I can't get enough of doing 'em.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 101 #writer: karl bollers #writer: ken penders #pencils: ron lim #pencils: dawn best #colors: frank gagliardo

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heller-obama · 5 years

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Operation Newsboy

It’s getting more newsie-ish so yay(?)

I almost forgot to post this but in my defense I just drove the length of California so \_( “/ )_/

Here’s the prologue and chapter one if you hadn’t read them

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: do you really think I own newsies or legends of tomorrow??

Warnings: still nothing really this story is pretty tame until a certain chapter and then it’s tame again, also Zari is the sarcastic one this time

Words: 1,021

Editing: quite a bit plus y’know grammarly

***#***

Jack Kelly was busy hawking papers somewhere in between Jacobi’s Deli and the Newsboy Lodge when he noticed someone watching him.

He walked over to the area where he thought saw his stalker lurking and pretended to be hollering headlines.

“Extra! Extra! ‘Dozens Injured in Train Accident’! Youse heard it ‘ere!” That wasn’t the actual headline. The headline was actually ‘Trolley Strike Drags On’, but they’d had the same headline for weeks. Hey, the kid’s got to eat. Plus he said he heard it there. Any potential customer did hear it there.

As Jack had hoped, the guy watching him, a man, came up to buy a paper.

“Uh...how much for a paper?” The man asked. His accent was well-educated, and definitely not from New York. His clothes were nice and fresh, and they looked brand-new. Ohhhh, Jack was gonna have so much fun with this guy. But the guy kept talking and gave Jack a con on a silver platter. “What is it? Like, 25 cents?”

Jack’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. This guy may have had a school education; but in street matters? He was a novice. Jack tried to hide the contempt and amazement out of his voice. “Yessir, just a quarter for the evenin’ pape.”

“Alrighty,” the guy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright, shiny quarter and plopped it into Jack’s hand. Jack eagerly fumbled out a paper from his bag. Oh, wait ‘til the boys hear ‘bout this! He thought.

“Thank you, Mr.…?” He asked.

The guy wasn’t expecting that. “Uh, Palmer. Ray Palmer.”

“Thank youse, Mr. Palmer!” Jack said, beaming. A quarter! That could be worth two days of food, easy!

“See you around, kid,” Ray said, looking slightly pleased that he made this kid’s day.

“See youse around, Mr. Palmer,” Jack said.

Jack had just moved to a new vantage point when another guy came up to him. He looked gruff, with a buzz cut and clothes that uncannily reminded Jack of Mr. Palmer’s clothes. It was one of those guys Jack was wary about conning.

“You got a paper for me?” The man asked gruffly. It seemed to Jack that was the only way he did things.

“Ahh, yessir. The…” Jack had barely taken the paper from his bag when the gruff man shoved a dollar bill in Jack’s hand and walked away without a word. “Bless youse, sir!” Jack called after him. A dollar! He thought. Boy, I’s gettin’ lucky today! Aw, I can’t wait—

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted when a weird-smelling cloth started smothering him. He tried to yell, scream for help, from his brothers, from anyone…

But his world went black.

##*##

“Mick!” Sara cried when he arrived back at the Waverider with Jack Kelly slung over his shoulders, thoroughly unconscious. “I told you to bring him here, not knock him out!”

“I didn’t feel like getting a black eye,” Mick grunted. “The kid looked like he could hold himself in a fight.”

“He’s just a kid!” Sara protested. Mick just grunted, and she sighed. “At least take him to the infirmary.”

Once Mick roughly laid the kid in an infirmary bed, everyone gathered back in the control room.

“So, Gideon,” Sara started. “Did we fix the anachronism?”

“It appears not, Captain,” Gideon replied.

“What? How? We removed the kid from the timeline!” Sara complained.

“It appears that once Mr. Kelly’s friends discovered he was missing, and the price of their papers was raised a few days later, they launched the strike in his name.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ray asked. “We want the strike to happen.”

“It also appears that once our assassin discovered that Mr. Kelly was missing, he killed different boys, warning the rest to call off the strike or he’d kill more boys.”

“Damn it!” Sara yelled, whacking the controls.

“What do we do now?” Zari asked.

“I’ve got an idea!” Wally said.

Everyone looked at Wally, even the floating holographic head of Gideon.

“Would you care to tell us this brilliant idea?” Zari asked, her usual sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Wally’s cheeks pinkened. “We-we put someone undercover with the newsboys, one of us, to keep them safe. Therefore, Jack Kelly starts his strike, and no one else gets killed.”

“That’s a great idea!” Zari said, and Wally felt pretty good about himself. “That is if any of us could pass for newsboys. Sara and I aren’t even boys, and you boys can’t pass for teenagers.”

Wally’s hopes dropped.

“You forgot about Wally,” Sara said. “He actually is a teenager.”

Before any of them could make any more plans, a bleary Jack Kelly stumbled in, carrying a giant syringe threateningly. “Who the hell are youse?” He yelled and looked around. “And where the hell are we?”

“Oops.” They all muttered. Well, Mick and Sara muttered a few expletives.

“Hey! Youse are the guys that paid for the overpriced papes!” He yelled.

“This isn’t what you think,” Wally said.

Jack scoffed. “This is why I don’t drink no Coca-Cola. My brother tried it one time. Said he was seein’ weird stuff.” He stopped. “Youse didn’t give me no Coca-Cola, did youse?”

“You have a brother?” Ray asked, stalling for time.

“Whatsit to ya?” Jack growled back.

Most of the Legends were hiding grins until Zari leaned over to Nate. “Does he think he’s high on soda?” She whispered.

“In the early versions of Cokes, they put cocaine as a ‘secret ingredient’,” Nate whispered back.

Zari snorted in disbelief.

“Hey!” Jack yelled. “I’s talkin’ to youse!”

“You know what, Jack? We’re sorry. And we’ll also take you back to your house.” Sara said.

Jack’s syringe hand faltered. “You-youse will?”

“Yeah. Just give us the syringe.”

“Don’t try no funny business,” He warned. He chucked the syringe at the Legends. Sara slowly walked towards Jack and picked up the needle. Then, swiftly, she pulled out her stolen--sorry, borrowed-- Time Bureau memory flasher.

“Sorry, Jack,” she said softly and pulled the trigger. She then turned to Wally. “Go get dirtied up,” She said. “You have a band of newsboys to join.”

#Jamie writes stuff #operation newsboy #so they actually did used to put cocaine in coca cola #idk why but I felt the need to be really accurate in this fic #it comes up a lot more later #so I was researching drugs and stuff for this scene and the coke thing came up and I was like 'this is it folks the peak of my writing'#legends of tomorrow #newsies #jack kelly #fanfic #wally west #newsies fic #Sara lance #zari tomaz #gideon #the waverider #fanfiction #writeblr

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sickdaysofficial · 7 years

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Sickdays Prompt #6: Holiday Overindulgence

A/N: This is a collab piece between @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak and myself using Jude as my character and Ruairi as theirs! (p.s. for anyone who doesn’t know Hogmanay is the Scottish celebration of New Year and it is essentially a 2 day party from Dec 31st - Jan 2nd!)

The bottle of peach schnapps had been a mistake. Mixing it with the gin that Jude had been drinking before they got on the train to Edinburgh. The atmosphere on the train was buzzing – after all, they were heading to one of the worlds’ biggest street parties. They passed the bottle between the five of them, taking swig after generous swig and planning where they would go once they got off the train. Alba stated that there’d be no point in them freezing their butts off until the full street party started, so if they went to a club now they’d not be cold and miserable by the bells.

As they were swept from the train in a throng of partygoers Jude could feel the cloying sticky sweetness of the alcohol he’d been downing crawling back up his throat, and he had to swallow hard, relishing as they emerged into the brisk night air of an Edinburgh already in full swing party mode. Alba was in charge; she knew the city better than the rest of them so they followed her down a set of stairs into a basement club filled with blue and purple light and packed with people.

The overwhelming tang of spirits hung like a heavy perfume, making Jude’s head spin like the people on the dance floor. His hand clutched at the cold drink that Eden had bought him, in contrast to the heat pulsing throughout the room. He was beginning to feel ill, and taking deep breaths of the stale air was not helping the queasy sensation flooding through him. He took a sip of his drink but felt a gag in the back of his throat as he struggled to force the drink down his throat. He needed to get outside.

Pushing through the crowd, Jude’s shoulders banged into numerous people as he tried to get outside, just in case his stomach decided to rebel. He stumbled up the stone steps, his head swimming and making like everything was happening behind a sheet of glass. Sounds were muffled and everything felt cold.

The night air hit Jude’s face and he took several slow deep breaths as he rounded the corner of the stairs and leant back against the wall with his eyes closed. His stomach was churning and he regretted drinking on the train across – why hadn’t he just waited till he got here? He needed to sort himself out. He couldn’t ruin the rest of the night for everyone.

“Mate, you a’right?” Jude didn’t recognise the voice but when he opened his eyes he saw a young man, taller than him, standing at the nearest wooden picnic table belonging to the club. The three other people at the table were all looking over at Jude too. “You need any help?”

“Jus’ gettin’ some air,” Jude replied, alarmed when he heard the slur in his voice.

“There’s a seat here if you’d like it?” The stranger pointed to the bench next to him as he sat down. “We’ve got some water if you’d like a drink?”

“That would be great,” Jude admitted honestly, he knew he shouldn’t be accepting a drink from a random person, but the stranger seemed to be genuinely trying to establish that he was okay. The stranger had poured a glass of water and held it out, and Jude stumbled the few steps to the table to accept it. “Thanks.”

“I’m Ruairi by the way,” Jude had taken a big gulp of the water, thankful for the cold wet liquid as it travelled down his throat.

“’M Jude,” he said, lowering the glass and holding out his hand to shake Ruairi’s. The swirling in his head had begun to slow down now, the fresh air and the water beginning to play it’s part in sobering him up.

“Come and join us,” Ruairi insisted, shuffling closer to the girl next to him on the bench. “That’s Lucas,” he pointed to the guy opposite him, “Nate, and Aoife.”

“You from Ireland?” Jude asked, giving a quick wave to them as he perched on the bench.

“Yeah, from Dublin,” Ruairi nodded.

“Just over for Hogmanay?” The horrible churning in his stomach had slowed to a stop, and he was beginning to feel better.

“Yeah,” Ruairi said. “Well, me and Aoife had to be over for uni soon anyway. You on your own?”

“Nah, my mates are inside,” Jude pointed over to the club stairs. “It was just too much in there. Thanks for the water.”

“It’s no problem,” he shook his head, then grinned. “You looked like you needed it to be honest!”

“I did,” Jude took another sip.

“We’ve all been there,” Ruairi remarked, “myself included.”

“Him especially!” Aoife quipped dryly, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a smile.

Ruairi rolled his eyes. “Stop it you, not everyone needs to know my problems.” He poked her in the side, making her squirm. Aoife leant across the table towards Jude and winked.

“By ‘problems’ he means that he’s an absolute lightweight,” she whispered conspiratorially before jumping up out of Ruairi’s reach. “Ruairi I want to dance, come on!” She held out her hand in anticipation.

Ruairi turned back to Jude.

“Duty calls,” he chucked good-naturedly as he took the girl’s hand. “You should come and dance with us if you’re feeling better, we’d love it if you did!” He hovered hopefully, while waiting for a response. Jude glanced back towards the club where he’d left his friends, and found the idea of going back in there rather unappealing in comparison with staying out in the fresh air. Besides, if the gang needed to find him he was just outside in the street – and he had his phone.

“Sounds like a plan!” he replied with a smile.

Somewhere between the first and third dance, Ruairi had lost his friends. That wouldn’t have been a problem, except when he’d been offered tequila by the girl he’d been dancing with, he’d been just drunk enough to think that accepting it was a good idea. Now he was two rounds into the next dance, partnered with yet another glassy-eyed stranger, and severely regretting that decision.

“Circle to the left,” the caller hollered, and Ruairi stumbled slightly as the dance began again. The floor seemed to tilt beneath his feet and though he told himself that it was the unevenness of the flagstones knocking him off balance, the muzziness in his head suggested otherwise. The alcohol had soured his stomach – on the best of days spirits didn’t sit well for him – and the jaunty whirl of the dancing was making him increasingly queasy. Swallowing hard, he made the decision to take some time out once this dance had finished, maybe even call Aoife to come and sit with him. However much she and the boys would tease him in the morning, he had a feeling that most of the alcohol hadn’t hit him yet, and her disapproval over him being an idiot in the first place had nothing on how she would react if she had to find him passed out on the side of the street somewhere.

“Grand chain for seven places.”

Gritting his teeth, Ruairi passed by his partner, fumbling for the hand of the next person along. His fingers seemed cold and clumsy. His line of vision listed again, bright lights and loud music and moving strangers blurring together in a confused haze. God, he didn’t think he’d drunk this much. Each time he swung round to face a new partner he could feel his stomach contents sloshing like water after a bottle flip, the nausea now quietly intense and burning in his gut. He tried to calm the feeling with deep breaths, but there was no time before he was moving again.

“Swing your partner!”

He hadn’t realised he’d reached seven. Disorientated and dazed, he felt two hands grab his own, and suddenly he was spinning.

Unbeknownst to Ruairi it was Jude’s hands that had fastened onto his wrists and he could tell from the pallor Ruairi’s face that something was wrong. He pulled both of them to an abrupt stop, waving off the couple next to them who’d made noises of protest.

“Ruairi – you okay?” Jude asked, releasing his firm grip on Ruairi’s wrist then grabbing his shoulder as he swayed precariously. Ruairi blinked, trying to focus on Jude; then he jerked forward with a gag, both of his hands going up to his face and suddenly liquid was dripping through his fingers. “Oh god, right – come over here.”

Jude tightened his grip on Ruairi’s shoulder and tried to steer him over to the side of the street where there was a low wall. Ruairi stumbled, his feet felt weighed down, and he sat down heavily on the wall. The action jostled his stomach again and he’d removed his hands from his face just as he heaved again. Jude winced as he could hear the liquid gurgling up Ruairi’s throat and another gush of sick hit the pavement with a loud splatter.

“Alright mate, get it out…” Jude rubbed Ruairi’s back, glancing around to see if he could spot any of Ruairi’s friends from earlier. Ruairi was trembling, his breath coming in short panting sounds; and Jude was trying to hold it together while he made sure Ruairi was okay.

“I’m – sorry… Baaarrruuuuuurp!” Ruairi tried to speak, but a wet belch broke out of him. “Oh Jesus!” He retched again, but only another burp came up – his stomach seemed to be trying to turn itself inside out. Jude was breathing in slowly through his nose.

“Ruairi?” A female voice questioned, then called more frantically: “Ruairi!” Jude looked up to see the girl from earlier on racing towards them.

“Aoife, isn’t it?” Jude asked as she reached them.

“Oh my god! What happened?” She put her hand to Ruairi’s face, sounding worried.

“Think I – hic – drunk too much Aoife…” Ruairi mumbled, his words slurring into one another.

“I think I spun you too hard,” Jude joked, but he was still rubbing circles into Ruairi’s back.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Aoife said, sitting next to him on the wall.

“Sorry…” Ruairi hung his head.

“There’s no harm done…” Jude assured, consciously aware that the smell and sight of Ruairi’s stomach contents was making his own insides flip. “Once he’s had some water and got some air, he’ll be back up and dancing!” Aoife nodded, taking over the rubbing of Ruairi’s back.

“Thank you so much,” Aoife looked up at Jude, “for looking after him.”

“It’s no problem!” Jude tried to force a smile on his face, but could feel his stomach muscles tensing convulsively. “You did the same for me! You’ll be alright now?”

“Yeah – thanks,” she nodded, turning her attention back to Ruairi.

Jude turned around, away from the street and leaned his hands on the wall just along from Ruairi. It was overwhelming him – the creeping sensation in his throat, and then his stomach squeezed harshly. A wave of mainly alcohol surged up Jude’s throat and was spilling from his lips before he could stop it.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Aoife’s voice called again as Jude straightened up, wiping his mouth.

“Yeah,” Jude nodded, taking deep shaky breaths. “Sorry – sympathetic puker…”

“You sit down too,” she commanded, her voice so stern that Jude daren’t argue. “I’m going to make sure both of you idiots are okay.”

Ruairi raised his head and caught Jude’s eye, a wry grin crossing his face; Jude knew they were both as guilty as each other now…

#alcohol tw #spinning #dizziness #vomit tw #Jan 13 #submission

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weliketheiroldstuff · 5 years

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Rockstar Energy Disrupt Festival comes to an end, here's a look at their takeover of Michigan's DTE Energy Music Theatre

Rockstar Energy Disrupt Festival came to an end yesterday after a 6 week cross country inaugural run. It helped fill in a 10 stage hole with dueling stages since June. Disrupt is a stacked lineup that hit ampitheatres across the US and was an absolutely sweaty and humid blast in mid July Michigan. The Michigan lineup was as follows: The Used, Thrice, Sum 41, Circa Survive, Atreyu, Sleeping With Sirens, Four Year Strong, Memphis May Fire, Trophy Eyes, Juliet Simms, and Hyro The Hero. The first six bands and artists played in a side stage in the parking lot.

It was like standing in a fucking frying pan for most of the day. I could definitely be sweating more. But at the moment I'm perched under a tree at DTE trying to stay cool. All I keep thinking about is how a full mid week Siesta should be normal for everyone. I’m lucky enough to have a day job that allows me to have Wednesdays off and here I am at DTE at 2:30 already feeling like I need another shower.

Trophy Eyes are playing as a four piece today and still sounding excellent. The official word came July 16th that Kevin Cross’ last show with the band would be Splendor In The Grass. Kevin will be missed for sure but his departure comes as he is going to start a family and live the adult life and no one can really complain about it. Touring is grueling and brutal and if you don’t want to do it forever, then eventually comes a day where you gotta hang it up. We bid thee adieu Kevin!

After their set I took my sweaty ass to the bsthroom to wipe the sweat out of my face. I ventured closer to the main ampitheatre to pop a squat in some shade next to the waterfall. I forgot how truly hot pavement festivals are and am dreaming of 2.5 hours from now when I can go back to my car. And Hyro the Hero just skated by to go check out soundcheck at the main stage.

Reminds me of the days at Warped when Rick Thorne would ride by or Steve Caballero would skate by and before you can say "Hey Steve!" he would be gone.

Holy shit, $5 for a 20 oz warm water and a cup of ice. Of course they gotta keep the cap of the water. I feel like this dates back to policy from the early Ozzfests here where bands like Limp Bizkit and Sevendust got the rowdy crowds on the hill to chuck sod, dirt, and bottles of whatever down onto the pavillion. It was fun at first until bottles full of dirt were being chucked.

Memphis May Fire have elevated the technicality and strength of sound with a set that packed the parking lot stage and set the bar quite high for the rest of the day. This was my first time seeing them, shooting them, and enjoying their live experience. I get it. They fucking wail. Matty Mullins skillset as a frontman keeps the crowd into it through their entire set.

Four Year Strong is one of the most underrated bands on the face of the planet. Rise or Die Trying is one of the absolute best pop punk or technical punk albums I've ever heard. The boys have never let me down live and today is no fucking different.

Sleeping With Sirens got the biggest crowd in the parking lot and also what seemed to be the hottest set of the day so far. I'm absolutely dripping sweat through the first three songs. It's not the hottest day but it seems like each trek to the photo pit is during a cloud break and pulling the sweat out of me. As this dehydration is happening the dudes in SWS are going fucking off.

“Kick kick kick me when I'm down... errrgggahhhh!”

Those of us in the photo pit are actually matching the energy on stage, it’s fucking chaos. Crowd surfers going off and Kellin Quinn is right in my fucking face and this is one of those moments where the camera drops down for a few seconds and I just scream along with him. Fucking a. And there are photographers and journalists here who don’t know who half these bands are btw, and here’s one screaming all the lyrics to “Do It Now Remember It Later”. In this little section cut out of time I realize how so many people would do so many fucked up things to be in this situation. I can feel an epiphany coming…

I realized after the set that I’m celebrating a few months off the dabs on 710 but it is different because I’m not off concentrates as I wolf down on this fucking cartridge. Although sitting around dabbing myself stupid has stopped and for that I sweat out some toxins and know that today is about releasing a lot of energy and unveiling creativity and perseverance. My throat itches from screaming a ton and shooting more in the crowd and I run into my good younger friend from my day job Nate who is enjoying himself thoroughly as I shoot from the crowd. I’m glad someone from my job has seen me in action and knows I’m not fucking full of shit. I still have “friends” that don’t believe I even do this shit.

My mind is racing in down time awaiting the opening of the main stage. I don’t feel good at all. Mentally my life in this moment is held together by a couple cameras and the promise of free water all day. I have the ability to go back to my car and smoke herb and get in the ac for a few which removed a shit ton of stress as I started to cool off. I think if it was a beautiful day my mind would find it easier to wander and maybe this day would be more painful mentally. Instead it’s physically grueling as temperatures near 95 before the humidity. And you know your boy was in all black too baby!

Atreyu haven't missed a beat since seeing them at the Shelter damn near 20 years ago. It makes sense how these guys are in such good shape as their running all around the stage and not taking any time to stand still. Their chaotic and melodic dueling vocals lead for a broad audience of metalheads who appreciate the rhythmic harmonies these incredible musicians create. And well, Porter McKnight is one of the wildest bass players in all of music with energy that really can’t be matched by many. If him and Steve from Every Time I Die had a bass-off our faces would melt. Atreyu bring the heavy and give us a show unlike any other on the lineup with guitar solos that shred and double bass rhythms to make your fucking chest cave in, this is what summer festivals are about my friends.

Circa Survive is a band that connects me to friends no longer on this planet. So to be able to photograph them for the 3rd time since Dec 2017 is an absolute privilege. Act Appalled into (2nd song) into Child of the Desert ending in absolute chaos and catharsis.

Releasing negative energy is what I associate with Circa Survive. Forever will they be a band of existential wonder that repairs the connections between loose and broken heart strings in my chest. It does not get better than this band or this music. I would be flat out lying if I said I wasn’t happy with sweating right now as it’s blending in with the crying. I’m literally soaking my fucking camera as I shoot this shit. And like that, I’m walking back up the steps. I left a massive part of me in that photo pit. I left it there to fade into the pavement and never be a part of me again. So much negativity gone. So much fucking animosity, gone. So much just fucking gone. To Circa Survive, thank you.

Now that I let go of a ton of emotional shit while my past partner of 7 years was sitting 25-30 rows behind me, sending me photos of me shooting and I’m realizing we’re both where we need to be. Apart. My back to her and her watching me from afar. In this moment I realize this is the absolute end of the line and we are both free to live the way we really want to. Now for gratitude… I adore the two women who help run media for 313 Presents. I feel for both of them as they have to sit out all day with us and suffer in this fucking humidity. Holy shit, how dare I say I’m moist as fuck, I hope that makes you feel weird. I am missing the breeze while waiting for Sum 41. The sweating continues. Don't give up your dreams of free ice water kids the ladies at the Arbor bar will hook you up. And for that I tipped her 5 bucks (and now know it should’ve been 10) and will be getting another after Sum 41 as proper hydration should always be important when festing.

Sum 41 is another band that I’m shooting for the third time today, others include Thrice, Circa Survive, and Four Year Strong. I know the level of showmanship is about to be through the roof. I should just ask a security guard for a water but I’m not about it at the moment as it seems they’re about to come out on stage.

This is the third time I’m photographing Thrice. Thrice times I’ve shot Thrice. This is weird. I’m high. I’m stinky. I’m soaked in sweat. All I keep thinking about is can I get a fucking towel before I shoot another fucking outdoor show this summer? Like a white towel that rappers would have on stage with em during this shit? I’m sure I’ll forget it like I consistently forget the bugspray and sun tan lotion and end up frying like an egg in a parking lot frying pan baby!

Thrice is using more smoke than I wish they were. Sure, some of the photos look super dreamy and artsy and that’s great but it creates so much noise and it seems like now the last three shows I’ve shot, the guys and gals running the fog machines have been a tad on the trigger happy side. Regardless, I’m able to hit the vape pen because of it, and elevate myself while watching one of the best bands of the last 20 years go the fuck off. Thrice could easily be headlining this show but more than anything I hope they made a ton of fans at this tour because outdoor ampitheatres are where they belong. Their sound is so fucking big it just feels right on huge stages with massive production. The more ethereal and moodier they go the bigger the stages would fit. Even the older music like “Under a Killing Moon” and “The Artist In The Ambulance” vibe so hard on these huge stages. Fuck I wish they would’ve played “Silhouette” that fucking song rips so fucking hard and Riley’s fucking drums are so fucking good live regardless of what they play, but man that first snare hit. BOP!!!

The Used and I have history. I dated a girl when I was about 19 from north of Detroit. She was something else, and so were her friends. One of which became my connection to this band. I won’t go into further detail as I don’t know everyone’s personal histories on the road and shit, I just know the shit I was told led me to understand we walked very similar paths of chaos and chemicals. I’ve been bonded to them for so long, it makes perfect sense that I would finally shoot them the first time I get to see them. Yeah even with that connection I never tried to go see them through those other people. It was something I almost avoided for a while too. I’m so fucking happy I waited as they are in such better shape mentally, physically, and overall health wise. This leads to what becomes such an unforgettable performance. They used the entire stage to rip through “Take It Away” then “The Bird And The Worm” and then “Listening” before I was making my last trek up the staircase to head back to my car and make the hour+ drive home.

The drive was almost as cathartic as the whole fucking day. The freeway was closed only a few miles down the road from the venue and I ended up taking Telegraph for an hour and a half back home. A nice doob cruise that helped me cap off a day of release, new experiences, meeting new people, and saying goodbye to old relationships. I could’ve gotten this post done in time to be relevant for marketing but once I got home I knew it was time for a break…

My personal life had done a 180 degree turn since early June and I had been dragging my knuckles on moving forward completely. I’m no longer with my cats. No longer at my condo. No longer with this person I’ve been with for almost seven years. It was massively important to me to make the time away from this, my time I took away from my day job, and being away from everything the reason I could go on much further. I thought a few days might do it. That turned into a week. And then two weeks. Then I woke up this morning the last day of Disrupt and felt like I could let go of it all. This is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. I could stop doing this. Put all my energy into being that guy the other person wants and try to get them back. I’ve done it before, and it literally led me back to the same exact conclusion. On my own.

2 years ago I started really pushing live photography. I started brainstorming about what the next website/blog/media outlet would be as at the time I was doing one called Shrbrt, which was just my own personal branded website. I knew I wanted to work with other contributors. I knew I wanted it to be snarky but also counter-snarky in title. I knew that it had to be nostalgic. I knew I had to not give a fuck. A few months later ILIKETHEIROLDSTUFF was born. Now, we’re ready to take it to the next level. A level that would never get encroached on if my personal life stayed in the shambles it was in. I can breathe again. I feel like my inspiration is coming back. I feel like my muse is now myself and not someone else. I feel like as much as I left at Disrupt on the floor of that photo pit, I took away so much new shit. So much new information. So much new intel on myself and who I want to be. See when people get shitty about music festivals and say “How could it change your life?” those fucking people don’t have a clue about the power of music. They don’t love it like we do. That’s what festivals are for. For people like that to have their mind open. I hope plenty understand how dope this shit can really be and how truly we are all spoiled musically to have so many choices and genres and artists and bands who want to create. Not just for us but for the sake of creating.

Disrupt your fucking life. Disrupt your way of thinking. Disrupt what you’re supposed to do. Disrupt the status quo.

Thanks for reading. Check out the multiple galleries below and give us a follow on our socials too! Here’s to next year!

PARKING LOT STAGE

AMPITHEATRE STAGE

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breezerocks · 6 years

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“Look, Ne! It’s the Born This Way Foundation! Let’s check it out!”

I exclaimed like a kid in a candy store as we wandered the stadium halls, hustling past stairwells, hurriedly searching for our mezzanine spots. Ne shot back a long, weary stare stemming from jetlag and the kind of agitation coming along with driving into St. Louis on I-55. The *blink blink* and body language indicated concession.

“Let’s write a note to Gaga in her book!” “Okay, but like, don’t take a picture of what I write or show anybody. I’m weird about people reading my stuff.”

Addicted to The Fame

“That Bitch stole my tunnel!” shouting in my parent’s living room while Nate grinned in glee.

I had just completed my masterpiece short film with my two best friends and little bro entitled “Stilettos, Penguins, and a Defunct Windmill.” It’s a story about Bong, James Bong, saving the town where we all went to high school from the evil Glamazon and her plot to blow it up so the land could be used for a huge mall.

To cut to the chase, the town blew up…but not without my comic book self dropping into a 3-D world via a stop-motion animation sequence involving a dream tunnel.

“Yeah, she did. She’s amazing! She freaked everyone the fuck out at the VMAs! She performed this [Paparazzi] and ended the song with blood pouring down her body!”

And that was the first time Lady Gaga saved my life.

* * *

“Are those trampolines? Is she going to fly from the mainstage over?” “WHAT IS SHE GOING TO DO.”

More than an hour stood between us an showtime. Time led way to speculation about the performance. The inclined seating nearly set off vertigo but, one could not complain with such a great view from anywhere in the house. Already the night distinguished itself from my typical nights in a St. Louis venue. For one, my new band tee was white! I wasn’t on the floor mentally preparing for the ravage of the pits. I could make time for a quick nap if I desired. But the excitement began to build. And every second meant one second closer to seeing our adored Mother Monster.

Heavy Metal Lover

2011. My life took steep turns I never expected. My last semester of undergrad rolled closer and closer through the proverbial windshield. I lived with my shy guitarist ex-boyfriend of three years at the time Born This Way dropped and fell madly in love with the homages to the Heavy Metal genre. In May, I achieved my greatest accomplishment; I graduated with my Bachelor’s from the University I adored since I was about 13 years old. And just six days after I walked across the stage to basking in the glory of working through exhaustion and tears…

…I got dumped.

To say a wrench was thrown into my Graduate school plans just three months away stands as a massive understatement.

Where would I live? Who would be my support system? What if I didn’t get that coveted internship? How will I live with this broken heart?

I spent that Summer driving back and forth from my old apartment with Heavy Metal Lover to my parent’s home, hauling my effects…tears pouring profusely down my cheeks, occasionally dripping onto my shirt. I drew strength from the opening chimes and lyrics of the new album blasting through my speakers while pushing 80, and often repeated to myself…

…I’m gonna marry the night.

* * *

Just 8 minutes to Gaga.

This woman swept into my life 8 years ago…it had taken this long to finally see her. Ecstasy described the sheer excitement pulsing through my body.

I, like so many little monsters, love and adore this woman so purely. A woman who preaches kindness and honesty through art. A woman who takes no shit with nothing but class. A mentor to millions.

The only thing missing from this experience was my baby brother, Nate.

Gaga: Five Foot Two

You’re givin’ me a million reasons to let you go. You’re givin’ me a million reasons to quit the show.

A broken little girl sits with a cat in her lap, choking out cries of a wounded baby animal. Tears rushing down her face. Her cat turns around in a knowingly manner, as if to say “I know you’re in pain, Mum. Just keep petting me. It will soothe you.” Upon recovering from her fit, she grabbed her half empty glass of wine, took a generous sip, and returned to the film.

I was the little girl 3 months ago. I didn’t make it 10 minutes into Gaga’s new documentary without breaking down, thinking about losing Nate. The wound is still fresh, but when her docu first aired, the sudden loss had not been 2 month passed. My baby brother, my best friend, was gone. Forever.

“Do I look pathetic? I’m so embarrassed.”

Bedridden Gaga writhes in pain in front of the camera. Her chronic pain particularly flares up during this episode. Reflecting on her personal blessings of quick resources, she immediately rebukes her lack of strength in a situation where anyone would feel the same helplessness. I saw myself in that moment, not only in my unbearable grief but in my own coping with chronic pain. She is our everywoman.

* * *

Good thing I know what I’m worth.

Save for maybe Rammstein or Metallica, I have never seen a show with such finesse in terms of production value in the performance. My awesome follower, GMihalko15, wrote a fantastic concert review of the Joanne World Tour. And no. The show was not a perfect illusion.

Well…

Maybe it was…

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I’m not flawless, but I’ve got a diamond heart.

Heaven’s Not Ready For You…

“The song–the entire album–is named after her aunt whom she never met. It was her father’s sister. She died when she was young. There’s lines ‘Girl, where do you think you’re goin’? And he adored Gaga so much. We just love her so much.” I specifically described to on of the funeral directors.

The last song to Nate…MY last song…would be Joanne.

But…It almost wasn’t.

You’re giving me a…

It’s funny what trauma like losing your kid brother too young will do to your maturity level and inhibitions. Especially when he’s laying in front of you in a casket. That was about the time I finally snapped.

“That’s not the song.” I quietly stated. I looked around. Of course it was still Gaga, but goddamn it. It was not MY song. The last song I would ever share with Nate. No. I had control over one single, final fucking thing.

Do you remember the scene from the film My Girl when Vada absolutely cracks during Thomas J.’s funeral?

That happened.

“That’s not the song.” “That’s not the song.” “That’s not the song!”

Thomas J. couldn’t see without his glasses, and Nate couldn’t say goodbye without Joanne.

“Rodney! Hold her down!” “That’s NOT the SONG!”

If Rodney had not grabbed me from behind while I was still seated, I don’t know what my person would have done after that point. Curled up in a ball. Ran up to the casket. Started chucking flowers everywhere. I just don’t know. Mechanically, I short-circuited. After watching her 29 year old adult daughter melt into the traumatic tantrum of a child, my mother let the staff know they needed to find the actual song, and quickly.

Take my hand…Stay, Joanne…

I slowly came back, softly singing lyrics to myself.

* * *

“I got to keep my sister, and my Dad didn’t.”

Okay, so maybe it’s not a million reasons Lady Gaga saved my life, but there’s been hundreds of moments when her music kept me going. And not just breakups and career struggles…she saved me at possibly my very worst moment in my entire life.

And I am in debt to her always.

I love you, Gaga. So much.

My Baby Bro & I donned in Pink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Send Lady Gaga some love by purchasing Joanne for yourself or a loved one this season. I just gave you a million reasons why!

A Million Reasons Why Lady Gaga Saved My Life "Look, Ne! It's the Born This Way Foundation! Let's check it out!" I exclaimed like a kid in a candy store as we wandered the stadium halls, hustling past stairwells, hurriedly searching for our mezzanine spots.

#coping #grief #Heartbreak #Joanne #Lady Gaga #music #siblings

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usatrendingsports · 6 years

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Why UFC 217 would possibly show to be a very powerful combat card in firm historical past

NEW YORK — It did not take lengthy following Saturday’s incredible UFC 217 card at Madison Sq. Backyard for the comparisons to start as to the place the cardboard stands traditionally.

In simply the promotion’s second go to to “The World’s Most Well-known Area,” a trio of UFC titles modified fingers on the identical night time for the primary time in historical past because the loaded card someway delivered above its lofty expectations as the very best on paper card of 2017.

For pretty much as good because the undercard was when it comes to supply — and it was, with a combination of knockouts and weird finishes — the ultimate three bouts raised the drama and electrical energy to a fever pitch inside the world.

Rose Namajunas snapped one among UFC’s most dominant latest title reigns when she crushed unbeaten strawweight queen Joanna Jedrzejczyk in virtually stone-cold vogue. Bantamweights Cody Garbrandt and TJ Dillashaw then traded knockdowns and palpable hatred in a high-speed chess showdown that ended with a second beautiful knockout.

Former welterweight king Georges St-Pierre then added the cherry on the sundae by shifting as much as middleweight and exploding late to submit titleholder Michael Bisping in a suspense-filled and extremely tactical thriller. Within the course of, he grew to become simply the fourth two-division champion in UFC historical past whereas tying Bisping for many profession victories contained in the Octagon.

By the point GSP, with blood dripping from his face, calmly walked throughout the cage with an unconscious Bisping behind him, absorbing the second of getting returned from a four-year retirement with out lacking a beat, the collective chorus was to query whether or not that was the very best night time in UFC historical past.

That may have been the best three fights in succession that UFC has ever produced.

No hyperbole both.

WHAT A NIGHT. #UFC217

— Brian Campbell (@BCampbellCBS) November 5, 2017

The query was requested of Dana White on the post-fight information convention and the UFC president was largely noncommittal.

“I all the time say that this sport is all about ‘holy s—‘ moments and this was the ‘holy s—‘ card,” White stated. “Each time I obtained as much as stroll over to the Octagon, the entire row behind me was saying, ‘Holy s—.’ Irrespective of how a lot of an skilled you suppose you’re, this sport is loopy. I do not know?”

Pressed for a extra detailed reply, White started to share among the specifics: With an attendance of 18,201, the cardboard produced a stay gate of $6.2 million, which makes it the third-best in MSG historical past (UFC 205 final November tops the checklist). He stated it was additionally trending to do “far more” than a million pay-per-view buys.

Nonetheless, White would not pull the set off as to calling UFC 217 the easiest.

“It is top-of-the-line ever,” White stated. “To take a seat right here tonight after watching the cardboard, it is [easy to say that it’s] in all probability the very best card I’ve ever seen. However to suppose again over the previous 15 years, we have performed some badass playing cards. I can rely on one hand what number of shitty playing cards we have had. However to name this card the very best ever? It was top-of-the-line playing cards ever.”

The dialog relating to finest ever sometimes facilities upon the identical group. Many favor the landmark UFC 100 in 2009, which noticed title victories from Brock Lesnar and St-Pierre, together with a chilling knockout of Bisping by Dan Henderson of their first assembly. Others favor the overachieving UFC 116 card (topped by Lesnar’s rally to submit Shane Carwin) or UFC 129 (topped GSP and Jose Aldo defending titles in Toronto).

Then there’s a complete different group of contenders in a separate class: these headlined by Conor McGregor. That group comprises a handful of nice playing cards from UFC 189 and 194, to the pair of playing cards (UFC 196 and 202) headlined by McGregor’s battles with Nate Diaz, with each setting new UFC PPV information. To not point out UFC 205 final yr at MSG, which itself featured McGregor amongst its trio of title fights.

“There’s one thing about MSG, to start with,” White stated. “Each instances we’ve been right here have been superior. Whenever you put a combat card collectively, you’ll be able to’t all the time assure that it is going to be superior, however this card delivered. Even when you’ve got three [fights] ship in an enormous manner, it is a good night time. However to have your entire card ship, it is superior. When it comes collectively, it is enjoyable.”

On a straight comparability of significance, drama and leisure, UFC 217 compares favorably with any in firm historical past. There was no scarcity of trash speak throughout the buildup and supply when it comes to motion. And if you add within the venue and star energy of these within the marquee, it turns into tough to argue in opposition to it.

Nonetheless, should you’re not able to commit absolutely to UFC 217 being the very best card in firm historical past, there’s an argument to be made that it might go down as one among its most essential contemplating the timing.

After 5 PPVs bought multiple million buys in 2016, UFC has seen numbers fall significantly this calendar yr with Saturday being the primary to exceed the brink. The corporate has additionally battled a scarcity of star energy as McGregor, Rousey, Garbrandt and Jon Jones all sat out the primary half of the yr. Jones, in the meantime, failed a second straight drug take a look at upon his return and faces a prolonged suspension.

Saturday’s card delivered enormous numbers financially and created the type of buzz which may develop into contagious within the combat recreation. With UFC’s seven-year TV take care of Fox up on the finish of 2017, that would show to be an essential improvement.

But White was fast to shoot down any speak about how badly wanted the success of the cardboard was, or that this has been a down yr financially.

“Whose indications of that? Folks that do not know what the f— they’re speaking about?” White stated. “That is the very best yr by an extended shot within the firm’s historical past. Increase. Ronda did not combat, Conor did not actually combat in MMA, Jon Jones fought as soon as. Anderson Silva, Chuck Liddell, the checklist goes on and on. The enterprise is kicking ass.

White was pressed to disclose whether or not his feedback a couple of record-breaking 2017 included the cash UFC made participating within the promotion of McGregor’s boxing debut in August in opposition to Floyd Mayweather. Though remaining numbers haven’t been introduced by Showtime, the combat is anticipated to have completed because the second largest in PPV historical past between 4 and 5 million buys.

“It is counting all the cash that we made within the final 12 months,” White stated. “You may’t take [Mayweather-McGregor] out, it occurred.”

White hedged his argument by mentioning that McGregor would’ve fought twice within the Octagon had UFC not joined him within the promotion of the boxing match.

“Who cares that it is a boxing match?” White stated. “It is income that the corporate made that we spent 4 months utilizing our assets to advertise.”

You may name UFC 217 no matter you favor. Nevertheless it’s a card that will not quickly be forgotten, producing no scarcity of compelling storylines together with the historic return of GSP, the launch of a brand new star in Namajunas and the escalation of an unbelievable rivalry in Dillashaw-Garbrandt.

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