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bottoms-movie · 3 years

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SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

#marvel #sam wilson #bucky barnes #tfatws #sambucky #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fic recs #fic recs #usermarcy #usersof #tusernini #tusersammy #usersmile #usersamanne #usercross #sambucky fanfic #my fic recs

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waltnut · 3 years

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Yes, I'm a THIRSTY, HORNY and DEHYDRATED bicht. But I am proud of myself. Can I request more NSFW head cannons of our monster boyfriend? But don't make it dark, maybe add some after segg cares if you want? I LOVE YOU.

Don’t make it dark?? Don’t you know what I’m about??? I can’t believe this.

No I’m joking lol well damn, NSFW? Okay well, this is for the Monster Fuckers so kiddies look away. I’m sorry to those who don’t like NsFw. I will tag it as “NSFT” for Not Safe for Timeline but I also hide it under the cut. I’m sorry. I had fun with this...now I’m embarrassed lmao You guys seem to like these so...

The prompt has me thrown a bit, but I’ll just make some stuff up, I hope that’s okay.

NSFW Headcanons - Monster Boyfriend edition: Demon Lords, Vol. 1

Adult content. These are demons. If this disturbs you, then stop reading here. Otherwise, enjoy?

Lucifer

Level 3

He sheds his feathers on his body when he’s nervous. MC makes him nervous when he’s like this. What do they think of him? Is he ugly? Would they call him a monster?

He’s the most submissive in this form. Gentle touches make him shiver and jump. He feels the most vulnerable and actively moves away from MC if they try to be intimate.

But he wants the intimacy. It’s reassuring. He’s still wanted. He actually might cry a bit. He’s sensitive, be nice.

MC will have to do most of the initiating. After the first time MC had had intimacy with him like this, he will be more confident the next times they engage in any sexual activity.

Level 4

All the pride and confidence. None of that level 3 sissy business, he will have you.

He’s very grabby, and maybe grips a little too tight. He likes the power of being stronger than you. He wants you to know it.

He seems to always have his wings as wide as he can make them. It must be some sort of mating dance. He does have that part bird instinct in there somewhere. He wants to show off, maybe intimidate you a bit. Does he like fear?

Might use the feathers on his tail to tickle you to make you squirm while he has you. What fun!

Mammon

Level 3

He is very clingy. He wants to always be touching you. Even if it’s just the tips of his wings or tail, he wants to have the physical touch.

As he goes through this level, his ability to sense any Greed from the MC to be highly erotic. Talking about buying those new clothes you’ve been wanting? Turn on. Saying how you’re gonna share any of them with him? He can’t contain himself.

He loves pets. Brushes against his hair, feathers, scales, will make him coo. Bird noises, gotta love them.

Easy seduction outfit, should you choose to wear one, anything shiny. Gold chains? Perfect. Sheer black clothes but with gold edges and designs? Also perfect. He can’t resist the shiny.

Level 4

Don’t even think about leaving him, until he lets you. You’re part of his treasure now and he will preen and polish you accordingly.

Lazy in this form, expect lots of cuddling with the dragon. He’s quite warm. The texture on his underside is soft like skin even though it looks like lizard scales. Don’t be surprised when you feel surprise boners while laying with him. He may be lazy, but he’s not tired.

Touching the skin texture of his body is a great seduction tactic should you need one. It’s the sensitive side to his body while the rest is covered in feathers and scales.

While he will dress up MC in gold as a mating ritual, should MC do the same to him, it is the greatest indicator that you are accepting his proposal for intimacy.

Leviathan

Level 3

Two dicks. Look we all know it. We all agree. Moving on.

Touching the purple frills on his ears is like touching his junk. It’s a highly erroneous zone for him. But be gently, they are very soft and sensitive.

Do you even lift? Well you might need to because he is going to be wrapped around you the entire time. He’s quite heavy and good luck getting out of that one.

Laying with him in water is the best way to show any intimate intentions. Even if you think it’ll be a relaxing chill in the water, think again.

Level 4

Now if you’re brave and choose to sleep with a giant ass sea monster, you’re in luck because he can manipulate water to allow you to breathe in the water.

He is the largest of all the brothers in terms of monster size. He’s a giant sea dragon. So be careful when dealing with...well, his size.

He likes to flip you around in the water, so staying in one position is not an option. It’s like a dance!

Want to know if he’s into it? Watch the orange fleshy bits on his sides. The more he glows the more you know!

Satan

Level 3

If you’re into having sex after yelling and screaming at each other then congrats! So is he. Angry sex is what he’s about. He’s wrath. I mean, come on.

Belittle him. No really. He’ll want to prove you wrong. Fuels the fire.

Extremely dominant. Don’t even try to top him. Also you just finished? No rest for you, you’re going again.

He’s gonna scratch and mark you. Bring some bandaids.

Level 4

Okay first of all, you really want to sleep with this? He’s terrifying. He is an actual hell spawn. Well okay, be prepared for selfish sex. He’s rough.

Want to know if he’s into it? Watch the flames on his back. Can you pass your hand through it without it burning you? You pass. It’ll grow brighter and larger the closer he is to finishing.

Most likely to choke you.

Will call you names during the act, sorry. The “not nice” kind.

Asmodeus

Level 3

Words are your biggest weapon. Constant love and adoration is all you need when he’s like this. You won’t even need to touch him to work the magic.

As the avatar of lust, he knows the human body of all genders. His genitalia resembles a males’ but it does have a clit on the bottom side of the head of the dick. You can get real creative with that.

Kiss and touch his ears! He loves it. They might flick at your touch, but he’s into it.

Is able to have his scorpion tails in this form if he chooses to, and he likes pushing and pulling you around with them.

Level 4

More of a Dom in this form. He also enjoys a good mess.

Don’t grab onto his tails, he’s not into it. But grabbing onto his mane? Go right ahead with that.

A little bitey. Vampire tendencies.

Most likely to try and sex you on the ceiling. Why? Not sure. But he’s able to do it so just roll with it.

Beelzebub

Level 3

Look at that long ass tongue. He’s gonna use it. Why wouldn’t he use it? You’re gonna want him to use it. The paralysis saliva he can produce is something he can choose to use.

Will jump on you out of nowhere. No literally, where did he come from? It’s 3 Am and everyone else is asleep. But a good smack will get him to stop if it’s unwanted. Bad puppy.

He might share his food with you if he’s offering intimacy. Like with his mouth. Like it might already be chewed a bit.

Chromeo lyrics: ((Don’t turn the lights on! I want to see you in the dark~.)) His eyes are sensitive, okay.

Level 4

You ever had sex with a Minotaur? You ever wanted to?

Will carry you off to a secluded area that he has found for himself. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.

The longer you go with him, the hotter his body feels. Just like when he feeds, he’ll have steam coming off his body.

Most likely to hump your leg.

Belphegor

Level 3

He enjoys you being uncomfortable. Emotionally or physically.

Sleep paralysis demon. Hey, at least you won’t be doing most of the work.

He’ll quietly hum a lullaby to you to see if you’ll accept his intimacy proposal. If you hum back, you accept. Careful, he might hum your favorite song.

His wool is so soft. Why is it so soft? You need to touch all of it.

Level 4

If you’re not banging irl, you will in your dreams.

You ever wanted to have sex in space? He can make the best magic Galaxy projector you’ve ever seen, and without the paid promotion!

His wool smells of soothing herbs and incense. So despite his creepy ass behavior, you find a way to calm your nerves.

You’ll have the best sleep you’ve ever had afterwards.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #monster boyfriend #nsft

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northlight14 · 3 years

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A love for love

Description: Roman loved love. He always had, even as a small child. So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

TW: panic attack, mention of making out but nothing is actually shown, cursing, questioning, unrequited love, let me know if I should add anything else

Ships: unrequited royality, platonic roceit, dukeceit

Genre: high school au

Prompt: prompt 6, aromantic (prompt by @pridewrite2021)

Roman loved love. He always had. Even as a small child, he'd watch wide eyed as Prince Charming leaned down and gave sleeping beauty true loves kiss, something so powerful that it was able to break an evil witches curse. He'd stayed up till early hours in the morning, squealing with excitement as he read about two warriors able to take on an entire army, motivated by their want to keep the other safe and stealing glances at each other as their metal swords collided with the enemies weapon. He'd sing his heart out when a romance song came on the radio, gushing about their love interest with such emotion that Roman adored.

Yes, Roman loved love.

So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

The earliest memory Roman had of this was when he was in first grade. Two of his classmates ran up to him giggling as they sang "Savannah has a crush on you!" Instead of feeling that overwhelming joy like the ones described in his books and music, he felt a deep cutting disgust in his stomach. Roman felt less like he could conquer the world and more like the world was going to swallow him whole. Rather than singing any great love song that he'd sang so many times in his room or in the car, he began crying instead while the two girls looked at him in confusion.

"It was just because I don't like her." Roman told himself.

But this feeling of being out of place only grew as his fellow classmates gushed about their boyfriends and girlfriends, crushes and which cartoon character they find cute. Granted, they were in second and third grade, so the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" roughly translated to "they let me borrow their crayon at break once and now we're in love and going to get married." However, this love for love spread like a virus and Romans desire to fit in only grew. So, during a sleepover with his friends, Roman looked upon the TV, at the princess Aurora and decided 'She'd make a good crush.' Before announcing it to the crowd of toddlers, the words immediately sounding wrong as he spoke them, as if he'd spoken them in a foreign language. He decided that night to never speak of his supposed "crush" ever again. Roman liked Aurora with Prince Philip much more, anyway.

Roman was in fifth grade when he was talking to one of his best friends, Valorie. The two of them just laughing and joking when his friends approached.

"Who's your girlfriend, Ro?" one laughed, putting his arm around Roman. And he knew it was a joke. He knew that. But it still felt like the arm hadn't wrapped around his shoulders and instead knocked all the air out his lungs in one hard punch. This moment lingered in his mind like a haunting apparition, quickly causing any friendships with girls to become strained. First only talking occasionally while in class or on the yard, to only talking when his guy friends weren't around, to only texting outside of school to nothing at all. Roman mourned these friendships but it had been made clear that boys and girls couldn't just be friends and the idea of people thinking he was dating any of these people made him feel like a caged bird.

Later that year Roman decided, despite his love for love, he didn't want to date. The reason for this being...

"I'm just more focused on my career."

"I just don't see the point in dating right now."

"I've never really liked anyone so what's the point?"

"I just like being more focused on myself."

And any other excuse he could possibly come up with, repeating them as many times as he needed to to believe them. Roman had always been a good actor, after all. But, of coarse, with this supposed decision came "reassurance" from adults, as if they had the ability to see the future.

"You just haven't met the right person, yet."

"You'll change your mind one day, when you get a bit older."

"All kids say that at your age."

"Roman isn't interested in dating YET."

These invalidating promises made Romans blood boil the more he heard them. It was as if he was yelling while trapped in a soundproof box, unable to escape. But, despite what seemingly everyone around him was saying, Roman knew deep down that romance just wasn't for him.

He also remained thankful that this love for love hadn't infected his friendship too much.

That was until seventh grade when what was originally a few cases of a love for love became an epidemic. It seemed that all anyone wanted to know was "do you have a crush on her?" "Did you hear that Lily and Reese are going out?" "Do you find her attractive?" This soon made its way over to his friends as they talked about how hot the girls were and teased each other relentlessly about who they liked. Roman once again felt like an outsider in his friend group. His friends conversations about their girlfriends may as well have been spoken in Latin.

Then the day came when his twin brother, Remus, came out as gay and started dating a guy named Janus. It then occurred to Roman.

"Maybe the reason I haven't been feeling anything for all these girls was because they were girls! Maybe I like boys instead!" Roman had never been a very logical person but this definitely seemed to make more sense. If he didn't like women then that surely must mean that he liked men instead, right? Because otherwise...otherwise Roman didn't know what that meant.

So Roman tried. Really God damn tried to find boys cute, to fantasize about dating them, to relate to gay experiences. But all he was met with was the same foreign and hollow feeling he'd felt when he lied about having a crush back in 2nd grade. Roman quickly began feeling his love for the concept of love diminish.

So when Roman entered grade 9, he decided to put anything to do with his romantic feelings (or lack there of) in a little box in the back of his mind to deal with later. Instead putting his passion and good acting skills to use by joining his schools drama department. The moment he stepped foot on stage, he felt himself come alive. The crowd, the praise, the creativity, it was addicting.

And it was only made better with the more friends he made. There was one person who he grew partially close to. Patton Heart. The two quickly became best friends, often hanging out outside of rehearsals and texting non stop. And, for the first time in what seemed like years, Roman was happy and comfortable.

That was until 10th grade. Roman way lying on his bed watching Netflix on his phone when a message from Patton came through. Roman clicked on the message and was caught massively off guard as he read it.

Patton: hey, Roman. So I've been thinking a lot lately. In particular about us and about you. And over the past few months I've started to realize that I have a really big crush on you. You're really handsome, funny and talented and I love spending time with you. It's totally ok if you don't like me back, but I figured it's better to be honest.

It should've been it. The moment when one of the main characters confesses their feelings for the love interest and they proclaim they feel the same way. Sparks fly and their hearts beat faster with excitement. It all becomes so clear when they hear that confession in movies and books.

But this wasn't a movie.

Roman felt time stand still as he read the message, his hands shaking so much he didn't think he would be able to respond even if he knew how to answer.

He couldn't breath. Why couldn't he breath?! The edges of his vision went fuzzy as he desperately gasped for air.

"Patton's great." He thought through his suffocating panic. "He's funny and charming and sweet. You should like him. Why don't you like him? What's wrong with you?!" Romans thoughts yelled as he tried desperately to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Not sure of what else to do, Roman ran to Remus' room, hoping he'd know how to respond.

Roman knocked on his brothers door and Remus responded with a very annoyed "come in" after a few beats of silence. Remus and Janus were sat on Remus' bed and Roman could tell from their slightly red lips that the two had been making out. But he wasn't in the headspace to even pretend to care that he'd interrupted them right now.

"Ugh, what do you want?" Remus said, clearly too irritated by his brothers presence to notice his distress.

"P-Patton just messaged me s-saying he likes me and I don't know what to say." Roman barely stuttered out, trying desperately not to cry in front of Remus and his boyfriend.

"Aw, cute. Roro finally got a man." Remus joked but Roman was definitely not in the mood for that kind of humor.

"Do you like him back?" Janus asked, calmly, clearly taking more notice of Romans distress.

"Well, I do. But not like that."

"Ok, so just tell him that. It doesn't have to be this whole thing. Why are you getting so upset?" Remus said, looking at Roman as if he was stupid.

Which, to be fair, Roman did feel very stupid right now.

"He's my best friend. I don't want to upset him." Yeah, that was the reason Roman was freaking out. He just didn't want to hurt Patton. That was it.

"Well, just say you don't want a relationship right now or some shit. Besides, he's probably more worried now because you've taken so long to answer." Remus pointed out. Yeah, Roman was never coming to Remus with his problems ever again.

"Yeah...ok." Roman said. Slowly, he walked out the room, noticing Janus looking at him curiously but deciding not to focus on it.

Roman: I'm really sorry Patton, but I don't feel the same way. We can still be friends tho. It doesn't have to be awkward between us. Especially because I really like being friends with you.

Patton: Yeah, that's ok. This is kinda what I was expecting to be honest. But yeah, I still wanna stay friends.

A few days later Janus came over again for dinner. Afterwards, Roman went into the living room and sat on the couch, scrolling through Instagram.

To his surprise, Janus followed after him and sat next to him. "So, how are you feeling after a few days ok. Broken his heart yet?" Janus teased.

Roman huffed out a laugh. "Uh, yeah, we agreed to just stay friends. Which I'm happy about but it's also really weird. I honestly don't know where we go from here which sucks because I really like Patton. Just not like...that." Janus nodded in understanding.

"You must care about him a lot if you had a panic attack just because you didn't want to hurt his feelings." Janus said. Roman just shrugged in response. "So, does that mean you like someone else?" Janus asked.

"No...I. I don't know. I've...I've never really liked anyone. I don't think I ever will. And people say I'll change my mind but...it isn't like I've made a choice. I've felt like this my whole life and everyone around me has had a crush on someone by now. I just... don't think I was built for romance. Which I know probably sounds stupid but that's just how I feel." He said, so honest it almost hurt.

Janus nodded slowly, taking in what Roman was saying. "It doesn't sound stupid." He said before pausing, as if considering his next choice of words. "Roman...have you ever heard of the term aromantic?" He asked.

"No." Roman answered, looking at Janus curiously.

"It basically means someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction. So they don't get crushes and stuff like that." He explained.

Roman felt his heart leap and for once it wasn't because of a fight or flight reflex. "Wait, that's a thing?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, a surprising number of people identify with it. I don't want to assume anything but I thought I might mention it just from what you've told me and what Remus has said in the past. Plus that panic on your face yesterday reminded me a bit of when I tried to force myself into romantic situations with girls." Janus smirked to himself.

That night Roman researched more on aromanticism than he did for his science test. The more he searched, the more it just made sense. Of coarse, he still had a long way to go towards self acceptance. Roman could feel himself already starting to mourn the idea that this was a choice he'd made ages ago and he was going to feel romantic love one day. It was an odd feeling, realizing that even though he knew deep down it wasn't a decision and he'd always hated when people made those comments, a part of him took comfort in adults promising that he'd change his mind one day. He was also horrified to realize that he didn't know what his future was supposed to look like now without romance. After all, media seemed to show single middle aged adults exclusively as depressed and lonely. But as he scoured through wiki articles to tumblr pages to memes, he knew this was a good start to unlearning any nonsense society had been shoving down his throat.

The more Roman learned and the more people he talked to online about it, the more he started to feel his love for love increase. But instead of it being centered on a prince and princess in a movie, two in love warriors keeping each other alive in a book or a cheesy love song on the radio, it was a different type of love Roman was finally starting to feel the more he accepted himself.

Self love.

Reblog’s >>>> likes

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bellasweetwriting · 4 years

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Emergency Contact

spencer reid x f.reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

plot: you were Spencer Reid’s first girlfriend back in Las Vegas when both of you were sixteen. He just finished college and was planning on entering the FBI academy while you didn’t know where to study. After two wonderful years, you break apart: you were leaving to college and he was leaving to DC. You never lost contact, making Spencer leaving you as his emergency contact even if it’s been 10 years

Request: no, it wasn't a request but they are open. please request something

A/N: I'm thinking of doing a part 2 of this so pls reply if you think I should !!

Warnings: young pregnancy, some bad language, hospital, injuries, flirty!spencer

Category: Angst

Word Count: 2,6k

"You should definitely cut your hair, yep, " you said to your long term boyfriend Spencer. It was 1999, Scar Tissue by Red Hot Chilli Peppers was playing on the background of the Las Vegas Bar. You were wearing an outfit with a cheap red plaid outfit you copied from Clueless. "Why do you put so much gel? Aren't you afraid that a bird falls and gets stuck there forever?"

"That's... impossible, " the 18-year-old genius corrected you, as always, making you roll your eyes. "Actually, according to the theory of..." he stopped himself as he saw your bored face. "Right, no science chat today. It's your day."

It wasn't your birthday, it was actually the day the college applications arrived. You had the letters placed in the counter and your smile couldn't be bigger: this was happening.

"So, what are our contestants?" Questioned Spencer Reid. "Harvard, Yale, Princeton, UCLA, University of Nevada, University of Virginia and, University of Washington. First, we will start with your safety schools and then leave for last Yale which is your dream college."

You were sweating as he opened the letters. Accepted, Accepted, Accepted... Rejected from UCLA.

"That's not good, Spencer, " you whispered, tensing your legs, afraid of the remaining three envelopes on the counter. "What if I don't get in?"

"You are going to get in, " he tried to comfort you as he held the Princeton envelope on his hand.

"Six percent of the thirty thousand applicants get into Yale." He remained silent. "C'mon... correct me! Tell me that my numbers are wrong!"

"You said no science talk." You hit him on the shoulder. "Ouch! Y/N! I don't know what to tell you! The only way of knowing is actually opening the letter. So... here I go."

You got accepted from Princeton, Rejected from Harvard... and accepted from Yale.

You jumped into Spencer's arms as you screamed your future college's name out loud on repeat. Yale! Yale! Yale! Yale!

The way you were jumping while he was trying to sit down made Spencer smile. Seeing you so excited, realizing... how in love he was with you.

That was the memory that came to Spencer's mind when he was shot in the shoulder. As he falls to the ground, your smile as you held the Yale acceptance letter, showing it off to every passing customer in the bar, was the image that shocked his brain. He remembered every detail of his life, yet still, that was the moment he decided to hold on.

Being in Las Vegas for a serial killer case was already messing with Spencer's head, and mostly he didn't expect being shot in the shoulder as he walked out of the bar where he and the team were hanging out just a second before.

As he was moved into the ambulance, he didn't focus on Morgan's words, or in the frustrating sound of the machine letting the paramedics know he still had a heartbeat.

He was thinking of your smile.

••••••

He hadn't talked to you in a while. Damn, he didn't even think of you when he stepped in Las Vegas. He was going to solve the case, say hi to his mom, and then go home.

Spencer sometimes called you, but you were busy most of the time. He would write you letters, rarely you responded. But he knew you still cared, you were occupied, he was too, however, he liked to talk to you. He used your letters as a ranting method, as his therapy. And you will read them after a long day at work while your six-year-old daughter told you about her day.

You would send him postcards once in a while, or photos of your daughter and you, wishing him luck in his work and filling that pink paper you bought with empty promises of a soon visit. You were busy, he was busy...

But as soon as you received that call... you stopped being busy.

••••••

"Wake up, Pretty Boy, " said Morgan while Reid slowly opened his eyes, staring at the white ceiling of the Sunrise Hospital and Medical Care of Las Vegas, Nevada. He immediately felt an inch of pain in his right shoulder, making him stay still. "Don't move, Reid."

"What happened?" He asked in a whisper, tiredly.

"The unsub shot you after you left the bar, a woman called 911 from your phone. When the ambulance showed we realized what was happening and left the bar, " explained Emily, confusing Spencer.

"I thought we caught the unsub."

"We were wrong."

"But he fit the profile, " murmured the doctor. "Shoot... where is my phone?"

"Here, " said JJ. "The woman also called your emergency contact."

The team was shocked to see how Reid's face suddenly expressed absolute terror. His pulse on the monitor started accelerating, and he started sweating, alerting the BAU.

"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Asked Rossi while Emily gave Spencer water.

"Did she pick up?" Questioned the doctor. "Did my emergency contact pick up?"

"Yeah, she did. I think she's in her way, she wasn't in town, " answered Hotch. "Reid... care to explain."

But that wasn't necessary since everyone in the room listened to a yell a few feet away.

"Doctor Spencer Reid... No, I'm not looking for a doctor I'm looking for a patient who is a doctor! Okay, listen up, missy, tell me where is his room or I swear to God I'm going to stick those 'Get well soon' stickers up your butt..."

That triggered Spencer's flight or fight. He immediately sat down straight, trying not to move his shoulder a lot since it still hurt like hell, but he tried to dissimulate so you wouldn't worry.

"Okay, here's the deal. Follow my lead, all of you. Don't question anything I say and please, don't look straight into her eyes... she could kill you. And I'm not kidding."

"Who is this wo—?"

But JJ couldn't finish her question when you broke into the room holding a six-year-old girl in one arm and your purse on the other.

"Y/N, hey, " Spencer greeted you with a tiny smile. You look at him before looking around the room.

"You look like a responsible adult, " you said as you looked at Hotch. He stared at you with a confused face. "Hold her for me, " you demanded as you passed him the little girl to his arms. He reacted quickly as he held the kid, letting you walk towards Spencer.

You sat down on the hospital bed and hugged him. He startled for a second before hugging you back, slowly rubbing your back with his palm.

You smelled the same as you did ten years ago, how was that possible? He remembered your smell so clearly, just as if he had smelled it the day before.

"I was so scared, I thought you were going to die."

"In fact, a shot to the shoulder has a very high chance of causing arterial blood to spill into the lung, which would be fatal in most instances." You quickly broke apart, staring at him with a worried face as he realized his mistake. "But I'm fine! It's not my case! It doesn't even hurt that bad... I'm part of the 80%."

"That's good... that makes me not feel bad for yelling at you!" You stood up quickly as you stared at Spencer, starting to pass the preoccupied stage into the upset phase. "What were you thinking? Aren't you supposed to use an anti bullet vest? Aren't you supposed to be careful around this stuff, Spencer!? You used to trip while walking normally when you were sixteen years old, what on Earth were you thinking when you joined the academy? It's been what? Seven years since you are in the FBI? Aren't you supposed to know that you can get shot?"

You were clearly upset. He knew. The moment his team told him that you were coming, he knew this would be your reaction.

And he had an idea of how to contain you.

"Did you cut your hair?" He asked, taking you and the rest of the team by surprise.

"What?"

"It used to be longer."

"We haven't seen in each other in three years so I suppose it could be shorter... which that reminds me, shouldn't you change your emergency contact?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Spencer, it was cute when I was in high school for you to put me as your emergency contact, but you live in Virginia now and I live in San Francisco, why would you still have my number? To give me a heart attack or something?"

"I'm an FBI agent, it's the first time someone calls my emergency contact in years. Look, Y/N, I'm okay. Can I say hi to Rory now?"

You exhaled, turning around to grab Rory from Hotch's arms, sitting her on Spencer's bed, making it easy for him to hug her.

"Hi Spencer, " said the girl and he smiled. "Did you know I learned how to read?"

"That's awesome, pumpkin! I have so many books you would like—"

"Don't give my six years old girl a physics book. Wait until she's nine at least, " Spencer smiled, hugging Rory. You took advantage of the moment to turn around and present yourself to the awaiting BAU team, who was just admiring the scene. "Hey, I'm Y/N, " you greeted them, "I'm an old friend."

"She's my ex-girlfriend, " said the doctor, looking to his colleagues before looking at Rory again. "Hey, I gave you this shirt!"

"She wears it every day, " you let him know, which made him smile. "Ok, so, uhm... I think you are in good hands here. Rory and I are dying for some soda since we arrived, so." You lifted Rory from Spencer's arms and smiled at everyone. "It was a pleasure to meet you all. We'll be back in a while. C'mon, honey."

Both of you left the room, leaving the team with Spencer.

A moment of silence passed until Morgan had the guts to ask.

"Reid, is that girl yours?" Spencer opened his eyes widely before shaking his head.

"No, no she's not. She got pregnant in college, some random guy that I don't even know the name of. Y/N and I broke up like at least ten years ago."

"She is your first love, " said JJ and he nodded. "That's so cute."

"I have to agree with her, though, " interrupted Hotch. "Why do you still have her as your emergency contact? That's irresponsible. You should put one of us or a family member at least."

"I don't have family members, and she's been my emergency contact forever. The times that I've been harmed nobody has called her because I'm always with you. Besides, I want her to still be part of my life. I write every week, and I try to call, but when I do I always end up talking to Rory instead of her. She moved on from me so quickly, and I don't know, having her as the primordial number on my phone... It's silly."

"No, it's not, Reid, " contradicted Emily as she sat down next to him. "It looks like she really loves you."

"Absolutely."

"No doubt."

"Didn't you hear the way she screamed?"

Reid smirked at his friends.

"You know... my mom loves her." Spencer chuckled. "She always asks for her, and when I show her a picture of Y/N she gets all excited. She is one of those people that everyone loves for absolutely no explanation. Even now, after ten years, I can't find the reason why, from every guy who was drooling over her in high school, she picked me. I don't get it. She is way out of my league."

"It's cute that you think that way, " said Emily.

"I spent our entire relationship trying to figure out why she was with me when I didn't deserve a girl like her. She's amazing, you guys are going to love her."

•••••

"Hey, Reid, " whispered Derek to him. Spencer slowly woke up, turning around to look at Derek, "she's still here."

"What?" murmured the doctor before looking at the entrance of the bedroom, directing his eyes toward the couch in the waiting room, where you were peacefully napping with an edition of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand in your hand. "Why is she still here? She should be on her way to San Francisco."

"There's only one way of finding, come on."

Morgan helped Spencer to get on the wheelchair and he pushed him towards the waiting room as he carried his IV. Derek parked him in front of you and slowly walked away.

"Hey... Y/N, wake up, " he said slowly, touching your shoulder. "Y/N."

You woke up unhurriedly, looking at him before smiling a little.

"Hey you, " you whispered, "you look great."

"Thanks, I was going for a James Dean hairstyle." You laughed. "Why are you still here? Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"I asked for the day. I sent Rory with my mom to San Francisco three hours ago. I just... didn't want to leave you alone." He smirked. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, actually." You exhaled in relief. "Hey, you better go to your hotel and change."

"No, I'm good. I have my book and a toothbrush. If a hurricane happens, I would be the most prepared."

"You have to know that you wouldn't, " he said, containing his urge to correct you. "I still can't believe you came."

"Of course I came, what are you talking about?"

"Well, you haven't talked recently to me, you don't reply to my letters like you used to, and, I don't know, you seem different."

"Different in a good way?"

"Just different." You nodded. "Thanks for being here. I know I don't show you that I'm grateful sometimes, but I am. I'm grateful that you are in my life."

"And I'm grateful that you are in mine. I have a box filled with your letters. Rory likes to read them sometimes. Since she learned how to read she's unstoppable, " you laughed and he joined you. "You really scared me."

"Sorry for that, Y/N." You softly shook your head, telling him not to worry about it. "On my way to the hospital, I kept replaying a memory of us in my head. The day you got into Yale." You nodded slowly, remembering. "Why did you break up with me?"

You chuckled softly, but he remained with a serious face, as it was indeed a serious question. A question that has been bothering him for ten years.

"Because I was leaving for college and you for the academy. It wasn't going to work, Spencer. We both belonged in different worlds, and it didn't seem like the right idea at the time."

"Forty percent of couples break apart dew of distance, " he murmured, "but sixty percent make it."

"I'm not a person of chances, Spencer, " you remembered him and he nodded.

"But we are older now, " he quickly said. "I shave more than one time a month nowadays." You contained your laugh.

"I have a daughter now, Spencer, don't know if you recall."

"Rory loves me, " he responded with a smile. "She's not a problem."

You looked at him for a few seconds in silence before exhaling deeply, grabbing his hand.

"Let's get you to your room, " you murmured as you stood up and pushed the chair towards the room.

How could you tell him that you wanted to be with him too?

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cutiepisenpai · 4 years

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Gifted part 8

Spencer Reid x F!Reader Warning: Slight angst, fluff Since the team didn’t have an active case, Hotch told them to take the rest of the day and the next day off unless they got called in. Spencer took Y/N home and he wanted to make sure she was okay so he went all the way to her door. The ride in the elevator was strange, he had taken this ride so many times and yet everything about being with Y/N now was like the first time again. When they get to the door, Y/N unlocks and opens it turning around to face Spencer. “Do you want to come in? I can um show you the first episode of the show I mentioned.” Y/N asks. “You should probably rest instead of trying to watch tv.” “Ugh I’m so tired of being told to rest. Rest isn’t going to fix anything. And if anyone should be resting it you. Like when was the last time you got a full night's sleep?” She rants. “I try to sleep but I can’t. The last time I slept the entire night was before you got shot.” He says low, almost a whisper. “Why would that stop you from sleeping? You didn’t get shot?” she asks. “Because I love you! And I was worried about you! And you didn’t remember me and I couldn’t do anything about it.” he yelled in a strangled voice as tears began to fall, all the sorrow and frustration he had suppressed coming to the surface. Y/N’s heart hurts for him. Everyone avoids mentioning anything about their relationship, never saying anything about them being more than friends. She had her inkling but now she was sure of it. She steps closer, reaching out to touch him but hesitates before wiping the tears as they fall, “Let’s go inside.” She leads him in to sit on the couch and she takes a seat next to him rubbing his back trying to console him. “You can talk to me about anything. I might not remember what things were like before but I’ll always be here for you.” They sit together eventually falling asleep on the couch.

Spencer was the first to wake up a few hours later. The apartment was dark sun having already set, yellow street lights shown through the curtain. He felt a comforting weight on his chest and when he looked down he saw Y/N sleeping on him. It felt so normal to be here with her like this he rubs a hand up and down her back. His hands make their way up to her head scratching at her scalp and lightly behind her ear and she smiles in her sleep. Her smile brings him so much joy, “I miss you so much sweetpea.” He says. She turns in her sleep and mumbles, “I miss you too honeybee.” His heart swells. She does remember not consciously but somewhere in there she remembers him she still loves him. Finally relenting and enjoying the memories he had with her he relishes in the feeling now. She shifts eyes opening to look up at him and for the first time in a long time she doesn’t look at him like a stranger, “Whatcha staring at creep?” She asks giggling. He had never been so happy to hear her call him a creep, “You are beautiful.” He smiles back at her. “Even with this large bruise?” She asks pointing at her eye, he takes a hold of her face gently swiping his thumb over the bruise. When she doesn’t move away from his touch he leans forward placing a gentle kiss on the bruise. Her eyes flutter shut relishing in the feeling even when he pulls away, it’s the most real anything has felt since she woke up in the hospital. “Can I ask you a favor?” She asks. “Yea, anything.” “Can you tell me about before, honestly tell me.” “Yea um yea I can do that. On your first day at the BAU I met you riding up the elevator…” He smiles thinking about it, “When we got out and walked into the bullpen my eyes were glued to you. I was being so obvious and then Morgan noticed and teased me for it. I was such a nervous wreck around you I couldn’t even talk you every time you talked to me I would get lost in your voice.” When he looks into her eyes and sees the tears forming, “Why are you crying?” He asks “I wish I remembered. The way you talk about it I really wish I could remember everything.” He wraps his arms around her pulling her against his chest kissing the top of her head, “Don’t worry even if they don’t come back we can make new ones. I’m just happy you know.” They lie there together until Y/N’s stomach growls, “Shush” She says looking down and Spencer laughs at her reaction. “We should probably eat dinner.” He says. “I don’t feel like cooking.” “We can order something.” “Sounds good” They end up up ordering chinese food and Y/N makes fun of Spencer for not being able to use chopsticks. After dinner they watch the first episode of Doogie Howser M.D. because how could they not.

That night when Spencer went home instead of sleeping like he should, like he told Y/N he would, he started researching ways to recover memory. When he looks over to the clock and sees the time he runs to take a quick shower before gathering all the stuff he spent the night finding and going to Y/N’s apartment. “What’s all that?” Y/N asks seeing the bags Spencer is carrying. He sits the bags down pulling articles and items out setting them on the coffee table. “I did some research on memory recovery and I have some things you could try.” He says. “Is that why it looks like you didn’t sleep? Maybe you should have slept instead the chances of any of these working is slim.” She says sitting down next to him. “It doesn’t hurt to try right?” He asks. He starts to look so disappointed and she can’t handle it. “Ok fine, but please stop looking like a kicked puppy.” “Okay so exercise, a healthy diet, and sleep are by far the most important, but other than sleep you already have a good grasp on the others.” He says. “Hey I sleep just fine when I’m not being called into work.” She says defensively. “The dark circles under your eyes tell a different story.” “Really? This coming from you. I’m pretty sure your eyebags are damn near permanent. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.” She says poking at the bags under Spencer’s eyes. “Anyways other things that might also help are meditating, writing in a journal, learning a new skill and puzzles. I’ve got crossword and jigsaw puzzles to start. We can also play chess.” He starts rambling about the benefits of using these tools to strengthen her memories. “You do know these all help retain memories right, not regain them.” “I know” He says, there’s that look again. “Ok I’ll make you a deal if you sleep more I will try these and see if they improve memory.” She offers her hand pinky out. “A pinky promise? We’re adults.” She continued holding her pinky out for him with a look, a look he is familiar with that means she is being serious. He wraps his pinky around hers grasping tight and she smiles, he loves that smile. When they let go she reaches over to pick up the book with the crossword puzzles. “I have a preference for word searches.” She says opening to the first page pen in hand. “I know you do but you need a challenge and you can figure out a word search just by glancing at it.” She sticks her tongue out at him in response.

The rest of the week goes well. Spencer checks in with Y/N everyday asking about how the meditation and journaling is going. She checks in with him to make sure that he is in fact sleeping. While they were on a case they did crosswords on the plane and during the little breaks they had Spencer would quiz her on any amounts of random information. The team enjoyed watching the two laugh and joke and even argue again. Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ are driving back to meet up with everyone else. A phone call comes in from Garcia, “Hey Baby Girl, what’s up, any new information.” “Me no but that’s not why I’m calling.” Garcia says. “Not that we aren’t happy to hear from you but what’s up?” Prentiss asks. “How are our love birds? She asks, voice full of hope. “They are doing just fine.” Prentiss answers. “That is not what I mean, JJ said they were acting normal again.” Garcia says. “Well on the plane they were sitting together again arguing over a crossword puzzle. She brought him snacks and made him limit his coffee. Earlier he kept asking her random questions and she got tired of it and glared at him.” JJ explains as they all chuckle. “I’m so happy. I don’t think I would have been able to take watching them apart.” Garcia says. “Well you can’t force anything just have to let it happen.” Morgan says. They hang up when they reach the local police department pulling up at the same time as Hotch and Rossi. When they walk in they are surprised at what they see Y/N is sitting on a table looking up at Spencer who appears to be yelling at her. Initially they are concerned until they see Y/N burst out laughing at a very frustrated Spencer. He storms off as Y/N tells him to wait still laughing. “What happened?” Morgan asks. She is still laughing tears streaming down her face from laughing so hard. When she finally stops laughing and catches her breath, “We were discussing Dr. Who and I asked how he could watch a show with improbable science. To which he argued that it’s not all that improbable and if I actually watched that I would know. And I said how would he know if I watched it or not and he said he already tried to get me to watch it. And I said Oh I remember that and now he’s mad that I finally remembered something and it’s that.” Y/N rambles. “Wait you remembered something?” Hotch asks. “It’s kind of fuzzy but that was the clearest a memory has been.” The team is happy to hear the good news. Y/N is happy as well. The memory itself was strange, kind of blurry tunnel vision like and she hated to admit all the mind strengthening techniques Spencer mentioned probably helped. “Do you want to talk about it?” Hotch asks. “Not in the slightest. Any new information.” Y/N asks. The team delves into discussion of the case.

After arresting the unsub the team is packing up their things at the hotel waiting for the jet to be ready. Spencer hears a knock at his door, when he answers he sees Y/N. “Hey can I come in?” He moves to let her in. “Are you still upset?” She asks. “I wasn’t upset.” He answers. “You haven’t said a word to me since then.” “I just.. Why is that the first thing you remember?” and she shrugs. “Why does that bother you? I thought you would be happy. You know after working so hard to help me regain my memories.” “That isn’t how I want you to remember things. An argument.” He says. She chuckles placing a palm on his face, “The details are a little fuzzy but even I know that is not a bad memory. It may have been an argument but it was light hearted.” She says with a smile. Spencer can’t stop himself from smiling, “Can I kiss you?” She responds by standing on her tiptoes bringing her lips to ghost over his, barely touching. Spencer doesn’t move, he waits for her. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. She felt warmth when she fully pressed her lips against his, it was soft and delicate. The smell of coffee and peppermint floods her nose. He grabs her waist pulling her in closer to him and feels her smile against his lips and he smiles back. When they pulled away they smiled widely, “I have waited so long to kiss you again.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by Morgan walking in. “Hey are you ready….” He doesn’t finish the sentence he just turns and walks out of the room shutting the door behind him. Y/N and Spencer just laughed at the situation sharing another quick kiss and going to meet up with the team. When they got downstairs to get in the SUV’s and head to the jet the team were all huddled whispering and giggling. They knew exactly what they were talking about, “What is this high school?” Y/N interrupts them. “I don’t know lovebird, why don’t you tell us.” Morgan quips backs. Arriving at the tarmac and boarding the jet Spencer and Y/N are inseparable holding hands the entire way. They sit next to each other and can still hear the snickers around them. “Don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous.” Spencer whispers into her ear and she giggles in response. They sit together, hands intertwined until they fall asleep on the flight home.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #Female reader #x reader #bau x reader #fluff #angst #spencer reid angst #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss #Jennifer Jareau

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justinstolemybike · 5 years

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sigh. season 3. here we are.

i watched the first five episodes and... i felt so uncomfortable. it was bad. not all bad but... pretty bad. so bad, that it wasn’t enjoyable for me and i didn’t care to watch it all the way through, so i read other spoilers and i am not sure if i will watch the final season. but with it being said that i did not watch the whole thing, this can’t be a full review. so, here comes my first glance. spoilers obviously.

instead of weaknesses and highlights, lets just say likes and dislikes. likes first.

LIKES

- tyler’s storyline. last season, i was skeptical of how they would handle his rape and emotions about it, but i am relieved they gave his character proper care and devin druid did a magnificent job. my only gripe is that i wish they had him do something other than boxing to channel his anger. like, i understand why he would be learning self defense but i would like to see him do something less violent??

- jessica’s reclaiming of her body. at first the whole intro to the sex toys was weird but it actually was really touching (no pun intended) to see jessica begin to love her body and love sex again after what she’s been through. also, female masturbation is so underrated. nice to see it encouraged. know your bodies, ladies.

- the classic jensen tour. i’m surprised they still allow him to do the tours. like, none of the exchange students from the last time reported him? oh.

- chloe and the abortion. as a character, i don’t care for chloe, i’m sorry. she’s not a character to me, just a plot device. also, she gets no cookies for lying for bryce in the trials (i know abusers and victims have a twisted dynamic and that’s why that happened but nah chief) but i do like how they showed that some pro-life clinics will mask as abortion clinics and manipulate women into coming and trying to get them to keep their babies. totally real and fucked up.

- bryce was held socially accountable (kind of) and i think that makes an interesting point about rape culture. in the real world, jail doesn’t scare men in power because they can buy their way out. they don’t care about women and what they feel, obviously. what’ll really fuck sexual assaulters up is when they have no friends and no one likes them. that’s what they (kind of) showed with bryce this season. and he died which, yes fucking rad awesome wow.

- i know that justin also had a kind of darker storyline (with seth, i think? you can tell me if i’m wrong but don’t be rude) but he was a lot of the comic relief it appears and brandon flynn was great at it.

- alex and jessica broke up. hallelujah.

- justin is a abuse survivor. makes sense with his background.

- monty died too AND went to jail. cool amazing beautiful.

- tony is still ferociously loyal and apparently there was a scene where clay and tony said they loved each other. rise clony. rise up from the ashes.

- “i write fanfiction” - clay jensen.

DISLIKES

-ani. ani, ani, ani. i can understand why people find her annoying and she was probably the biggest reason i was uncomfortable watching but i didn’t hate her. she just... didn’t make sense. the things she did,the things she said, how she was involved and everyone just takes to her and loves her immediately, no questions asked, no buildup necessary... none of it felt natural or believable. a new girl comes in and it’s just a coincidence that clay gives her a tour and she decides to go up to jessica and says shes amazing and lives in bryce’s house and connects herself to the house of horrors that is the tape club (which was so dumb on the tape club’s part by the way, as she could have snitched and destroyed them all) instead of just finishing out her high school career in peace considering she moves around a lot and she starts college in a year and half and probably won’t talk to any of them after that. no, she’d rather potentially go to jail for a bunch of fucking strangers and criminals and rapists. sure, okay.

and for someone who just fucking got there to basically insert themselves in the traumas of these kids and make things worse in some respects and do some fucking shitty things (not listening or caring when she heard about bryce being a GODDAMN RAPIST, accusing jessica of SLEEPING WITH HER RAPIST, accusing clay of being the killer, yelling about chloe’s pregnancy in the street, the list probably gets longer) and think they’re allowed to pass judgment when THEY JUST FUCKING GOT THERE. LIKE, WHY IS SHE SO INVESTED? WHAT DOG DOES SHE HAVE IN THIS FIGHT? DOESN’T SHE NEED TO STUDY OR SOMETHING? WHY IS THIS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYTHING ELSE SHE HAS GOING ON IN HER LIFE?

now, i get what the show was trying to do here. they wanted another, fresh perspective/narrator and i guess a love interest for clay (a wayyyy too convenient love interest, ‘she loves robots and drawing and not minding her business too! swoon!). but they could’ve had both of those things without adding someone to the payroll. honestly, i don’t think they needed a narrator at all but if they really wanted one, they could’ve added an ACTUAL ADULT detective, with no biases so they can be completely reliable to the audience and their investment would be justified. for love interest, yall already know how much i love and miss sheri. she could check clay without sounding patronizing and had chemistry with him and actual nice, romantic history. she could have been his second cop and they could have reconnected and become a couple and... we could’ve had it all, rolling in the deeeppp.

it’s like with ani, the show wanted to kill two birds with one stone but they missed them both and i think the backlash on her character says it all. i’d just like to remind everyone to give the actress who plays ani respect and courtesy because it’s not her fault.

- was it just me, or does it seem like the tape club has learned nothing from what they went through? they’re still keeping secrets and trying to hide shit and keep it all inside and i’m like..... but.... this behavior is what got ya’ll fucked up in the first place? and i totally understand it’s about protection and whatever but.... it also feels like an excuse to not be held accountable for wrong doing. like, alex killed bryce. although he had all the reasons to do it and i’m glad he’s dead, he killed someone fam. that’s not okay. and his dad is wrapped up and it’s just... i just... i dont know. then, there was the whole “let’s not tell on tyler so he doesn’t go to jail” thing and i have mixed feelings about that. i think they should’ve turned him in and got clay’s mom to rep him for rehabilitation and therapy instead of a jail sentence. they’re hiding the guns and trying to trust tyler and luckily that worked, but how long? what if someone fucks with him again and it’s too much for them to help him with?

- speaking of help, clay needs it. oh my god, does that boy need it. they were so focused on getting tyler professional help but, clay’s out here putting guns to his head and having night terrors. he needs therapy more than anyone. honestly, what i would have liked to see, wayyy back in s2, is as soon as justin saw that, he wouldve went to clay’s parents and got him back on his meds and seeing a counselor. he’s been through so much trauma and guilt and he’s tired of his own fucking hero complex. it’s enough man.

- they tried to have their cake and eat it too when it came to clay stopping tyler from shooting up the school. they tried to be like, clay shouldn’t have done that but oh, he was so brave and what a great guy he is for doing that. no, that doesn’t work. clay should not have confronted tyler in that situation. period.

- zach was disappointing because i agreed wholeheartedly when he said that they should have called the cops but... he didn’t. he was blaming them for letting tyler go free but he was too. damn, zach.

- it’s like they give clay a new lackey every season and.... ok, i guess.

- i also thought it was kind of weird that after everything they’ve been through, they still walk on eggshells with each other? like i guess because now we’re dealing with murder but... i would think they would trust and care for each other a lot more than to accuse each other and spy and interrogate and not just simply ask... like... this season made me not understand the tape club’s relationship. like are they friends? allies? allies trying to be friends? friends out of necessity? do they know?

- bryce does not deserve to be humanized. that’s all.

- monty does not deserve to be humanized. that’s all. also, it’s so disappointingly predictable that he’s closeted.

- the new characters (ani, caleb, chloe, winston, cyrus ) i still don’t care about. plot devices, all.

i may edit and retract some things, should i decide to watch all the way but i’m tired.

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nlvianne · 4 years

Text

My Story

I was diagnosed with moderate to severe hearing loss when I first started school at 4 years old in the year 1989. I only remember the things my family told me around that time and prior. It's a very young age to recall everything and the memory does play tricks on the mind. When I was a baby testing for hearing was just not thought of, no one's fault. It wasn't all that common. I suppose I lived like a normal small child, playing with anything that struck my imagination, running amok. In photos I looked like a happy child except when I was dressed in an outfit knitted for a boy. My Mother said I would always watch the television and not listen to her when she called for me. I'm guessing she called for me many times, explains why she's quite loud. She said she thought I just wasn't listening to her. Typical child behaviour. My hearing or lack thereof just never registered. I was playing behind the barn at my Grandparents' house and My Grandmother was yelling my name. I'm told she almost lost her mind. She told my Grandfather she lost me so they both went around searching for me. Apparently Nan said she was going to beat my ass for disappearing. Pup said she damned well wasn't because I just couldn't hear them. The teachers in school noticed almost immediately and that began the testing. The results were in and my parents were confused and a bit scared I think. The school suggested enrolling me in a school for the deaf and hard of hearing in Amherst. That was over 3 hours from my home. I was told that my Grandfather was not pleased with that idea and demanded that I stay home learning in a regular school with everyone else. I think my parents followed suit not sure what to do. My Grandfather, Pup was the best this way. Maybe it was denial. Maybe he didn't want to admit to it but he didn't seem to think hearing loss could hold anyone, least of all, his Granddaughter back. Or worse, maybe I was naive and didn’t want to know he was ashamed of this because I loved him. I never thought of those things then, just that he was my gruff hero that let me sleep on his lap in the rocking chair and steal gum from his shirt pockets. I have pictures of that. Soon I had my hands on a toy that would sit right in my ears and hook up a box called an FM transmitter so I could hear the teachers across the classroom. This was made possible by the best group we had in the school system, APSEA. APSEA assisted parents with costs of aids and funded tools like the transmitters, funded for special educators for the deaf and hard of hearing to come to the schools and assist in ways that a mainstream teacher would need extra help. The organization was a godsend. They enabled me to sit in class and learn with my peers mainstream and took me aside to learn more. With them I would practice my speech by reading. I would take extra time to write for proper grammar. I had extra practice in mathematics. Their main focus was my speech. They kept me caught up and then some. I remember my time with them fondly. I was the only kid in Milton School they came around to see at the time. I was never picked on in school about my hearing aids. In fact, they (classmates) loved the FM Transmitter. I could always let them know if the teacher was walking back into the classroom so they could quickly get back to their seats. Yeah, I was the lookout. It was hilarious and gross when they went to the bathroom. They were pretty embarrassed when I told them I heard them. Ha ha. They caught on quick and my signal was cut upon leaving the classroom. Carpets were also installed in the classrooms to prevent the chairs and desks from scraping, protecting my tender ears. That was a lovely APSEA request. My Father told me that I kept asking him what a certain noise was. It was a bird. I never heard birds before that. I don't remember this but Dad chokes up when he tells me. I remember taking a bath one time as a child and I wasn't adjusted to having hearing aids at the time. I accidentally forgot to take them out and my Mother wasn't thrilled that they fried the moment I poured water over my head. I can confirm that they indeed do not electrocute when introduced to water but they certainly do not survive it. Every year I needed to have new moulds created to attach to the aids behind my ears. Children's ears are constantly growing at a quick rate just like the rest of them. It was a strange sensation to have that cold goop squeezed in my ear. Felt like soft sticky earplugs. Before they put the silicone in they have to insert small spongy things with long strings so they have something to pull them out with when they dry. I giggle a little because it looks like I have tampon strings hanging out of my ears. My APSEA teachers tried to make me understand that in my life I would encounter people who didn't understand or were not quite as tolerant as some. They would encourage me to teach them, to spend a lot of time helping them understand. I never realized how exhausting this would be sometimes. My first assignment was to explain to my peers in front of the classroom about something that pertained to my hearing. It could be anything from the tools I use to my experiences. I chose to explain the FM Transmitter especially since so many of my peers enjoyed tracking the teachers’ movements with them. After 7 years it was time to change schools. The districts decided it was a more logical idea to consolidate all of the smaller schools. Grade 6 was spent at the Dr. John C. Wickwire Academy. It was my first and last year there. Out of all the consolidated schools there were still only 2 of us that were hard of hearing that I could recall. Even there the teachers seemed well adjusted to us. There I made new groups of friends. Some found me odd, others didn't care and a few hung out with me. Again it was never an issue or a big difference. By that point no one realized I was hard of hearing upon first meeting me. I learned just like the rest of them, I behaved similar to them. It wasn't pointed out until they saw the gear and obviously had some questions. It was never a big to do thing. In the following year I attended Junior High and met a whole slew of mates with differences from Autism to Hearing Loss to Mobility Issues. I met three wonderful people with hearing impairment/loss that I remain in touch with to this day. I learnt a little bit of sign language from them and we had a great common ground. It was pretty neat. I was in a position where I had questions for them because their experiences were so different from mine. One attended the school for the deaf and hard of hearing for the early years. We were a very lucky in the way we all were able to attend a school without much in the way of total exclusion. Yes, we had separate classes and we had special needs that teachers didn't quite know how to handle them but we always met in the middle being in the same school. I know there are experiences from others that I'm not capturing and I know they've had some not so great experiences. This is why it upsets me to see how divided we are almost 20 years into the future. We should be so far ahead but we've fallen so far backwards. It really is a crying shame. We were so, so lucky and I never realized that until the later years of my life. High School was much the same but we had yet again, more populace. High School was even better because there was an open door policy. We were permitted and encouraged to visit the special needs students, have lunch with them, even sit and do homework together. Even in this point of my life I was still never made to feel inferior with my hearing. I was only ever picked at for being a little nerdy but that was it. Okay, a lot nerdy. I liked Sci-fi. I'm sure it wasn't all fairy tales and rainbows for most. We all had our not so great moments. And there was the odd time kids would poke fun at something. And there is that good high possibility they made fun of me but I didn't hear them. They say ignorance is bliss, they haven't experienced hard of hearing. Ha ha! When I learned how my trio of HOH friends came into their world of semi silence and how others came into that I began to have questions of my own. I had them before that. It just wasn't important enough for me to ask and my parents already shared some details. (Ones I'm sure some would find rather ridiculous in this day and age!) The most prevalent explanation was that my parents had the same blood type and the family doctor speculated that was why I was born with a hearing loss. Today we know that's a very ridiculous and ignorant answer as many parents have the same blood type. But this was the reason everyone stuck with as it made some sense out of why the child didn't come out 'normal'. I'm not resentful of this particular tidbit as it was made in ignorance in a past that we didn't understand. Even now there’s still much we don’t fully understand.

In high school and much after I didn’t show much outward interest in a romantic life and when I did I brought home extremely questionable individuals. I also didn’t have a high confidence level in myself. My parents worried and considered me behind in my personal life, which I suppose I was. They always thought it was because of my hearing and I didn’t make them think otherwise. I never considered it due to my hearing loss. I suppose they did because it was something tangible they could digest. When I was older I found myself walking on eggshells around adults more than children. Even today I don’t have a high opinion of myself and I explain it off as humble.

Most of this way of dealing with the discomfort of adults has been the most baffling and occasionally it has spilled over in my workplaces. Most have been very well and extremely considerate. We’ve talked and joked about it without a hitch. But sometimes there will be that wayward thing coming from the mouths of adults that will light my fuse. Once I reached the point of contending with adults I became more sensitive and sore about things. Suddenly my hearing loss became the white elephant in the room. This is now the most challenging time for me.

In my adulthood I suspect there were things my parents shielded me from which I haven’t fully been on the receiving end of. My experiences as an adult are far different compared to my childhood. That goes without saying but it wasn’t what I was expecting. I’ve had a great life and I did quite well for myself despite my hearing loss/impairment. However, I did not expect to be brought down by a few uttered comments by family.

I was told that I had become hard of hearing because I had too many ear infections which my parents didn’t take me to the doctor soon enough. I remember having many of them and I do remember sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for antibiotics. A child never told me this. An adult in my own family did.

I was also informed that hearing aids have made me a bit lazy and not wanting to listen. Again, by an adult. Never by a child or a peer.

But the one single comment that took the ever loving fucking kick in the teeth and made me particularly ugly. “Maybe if your parents didn’t have the same blood type you wouldn’t be that way.”

My Grandmother!

My immediate family member! Not a child! Not a peer! An adult that was my own family member.

I find this ironic now seeing as My Grandmother and I now share hearing aid batteries. Some say Karma took a very good journey but that doesn’t help me to forget or feel better about that. In fact, I haven’t forgiven that and I doubt I will anytime soon.

My Hearing Loss is part of who I am and has moulded me into the individual the world sees today. In fact, I do not consider it a ‘Loss’ but a faucet which makes me unique in a sea of what we consider normal. I would not be the person I am now without it. I am just different. There’s no need to advocate my difference through the thought of ‘making it normal’. I wish the world today would stop focusing so much on fighting the good fight with their protests. We are not a political agenda to make you feel good about yourselves. All I want is understanding. That’s it. And maybe some money to pay off these overpriced hearing aids....

#hard of hearing #hearing aids #hearing specialist #unique #tolerances of differences #kindness #acceptance

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paladin-andric · 5 years

Text

The Stranger

It’s about damn time, isn’t it?

Well, enjoy a fantasy western short story I haven’t gotten around to finishing for quite some time. Fair warning that this isn’t a genre I’m experienced in, so take that for what you will. Enjoy, however, wacky hijinks, bad wild west slang, magical cowboys fighting dragons, and an EXTREMELY strong reference to Blackheart! A mysterious stranger arrives to a town on brink of destruction, and promises to turn things around...

“Son of a bitch!”

A loud thud rang out as Red slammed a fist down onto his desk, fury written on his face.

He was an older man with gray hair, wrinkles on his face, and a bushy mustache. He slumped over, holding his temples with one hand while the other flexed in a fist, still held against the wooden surface of the desk.

Red wore a gray sleeveless vest, a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, and black pants. Topping off his ensemble was of course, his all-important badge. A silver, six pointed star with the word “SHERIFF” engraved with bold letters.

Another man was standing next to him. The accomplice had a slightly less tan complexion, and a goatee and mustache. He had a green jacket that was open down the middle, showing a tan shirt underneath. He also wore a white hat, and had a badge pinned to his jacket. It being a plain, five pointed star denoted that he was a standard officer.

“Sir, I know this is crazy but-”

“Crazy?! Crazy, boy?! This isn’t crazy…” the sheriff shook his head sadly. “This is a disaster!”

The lawman put his hands on his hips and looked down. “Shoot…don’t give up yet, sheriff. There’s a chance.”

“I don’t want a chance,” Red answered harshly, “I want to WIN! I want those damn leeches dead! I want those people SAFE! And now you say we got a damn monster to wrangle too?!”

“Everything bleeds,” the other man offered.

“Yeah...and we’ll be bleedin’ all over the ground soon enough!”

“Look, we gotta run NOW.”

Red sighed and took out his revolver, quietly spinning the cylinder, checking each chamber was loaded. The officer had never seen him like this before. He was normally so stoic, unflinching...of course, he could hardly blame him with he was burdened with, but still.

“Let’s go. Whatever happens, we gotta try to protect these folks.”

Red grimaced. “Better start prayin’ to God if you believe in him, boy...maybe he’ll help us out.”

“Maybe I can help you out, too.”

The unfamiliar voice made Red’s face shoot up.

In the doorway, quite a surprising figure stood sideways, leaning against the doorframe with a taloned foot resting against the frame as well. His head was turned to the side as to look straight at the pair of men.

A koutu, one of the birdfolk of the west was standing in the doorway. His feathers were white on his head and brown everywhere else. He wore a brown duster, sleeveless of course as to not interfere with his wings, with a red kerchief tied around his neck. Underneath was a brown button-up shirt, and he wore short pants as well. As they stopped at his raptor legs, Red assumed they were just for modesty’s sake.

He had a pistol holster at his side, pouches along his belt, and some sort of bag slung over his back. Finally, he had a brown hat with a wide brim atop him, looking like it was shaped custom-made for his avian head.

He looked at the pair with a confident though serious gaze, not a smile or smirk to be found. Red immediately jumped out of his seat, revolver firmly in his hand. The officer in the white hat held onto his holster.

“What the hell?!” The sheriff yelled out. The bird only reached up and tipped his hat.

“Howdy.”

“Who the hell are you?!” Red shouted, authoritative and snarling. If the bird had eyebrows, he would have been raising them.

“Nobody important, sir. Jus’ passin’ through.”

Red’s aggression quickly simmered, though he groaned and rolled his eyes. “Ugh. A wanderer, huh?”

“If you’d like. I prefer the term ‘wayfarer’ myself, sir.”

The officer in the white hat shrugged. “Sorry for the attitude, mister. Sheriff’s got a lot on his plate, you hear?”

“I hear ya.”

“Whaddya doin’ in my office, stranger?” Red demanded. The koutu looked to the side.

“Couldn’t help but overhear ya while I was passin’ by, you two. Sounds like you’re in a real fix. I’d like to help you fellas out, if I could.”

“And jus’ howdya think yer gonna help us? Kill all the bandits yerself? Or maybe you’d like to kill the goddamned dragon!”

“Well, not by myself. But I can pitch in.”

“Mighty kind offer,” the officer said with a nod, “We need all the help we can get.”

“Ain’t gonna do a thing,” Red said bitterly, “We’re all gonna get blasted to high heaven.”

“I’m worth my weight in bullets.”

“Oh yeah? You think yer some kind of hero? Think you can tumble with those beasties out there?” the sheriff said with a sneer.

For the first time since he appeared, the bird smirked. “You’d be surprised…”

The sheriff shook his head and put his revolver in its holster. “It’s your funeral, stranger. Follow us.”

The koutu got off the doorframer and stepped to the side. “After you, gentlemen.”

The group of lawmen left the sheriff’s office with the koutu in tow. The bird was silent for some time until they began to make their way out of Pike’s Creek.

“So what’re you thinkin’? What’s yer strategy here?”

“Not a damn clue,” the sheriff admitted.

“We, uhh...we ain’t never had to deal with dragons before,” the officer said quietly, “Though we were thinkin’ maybe dynamite might blast that sucker out of his britches.”

“Dynamite?” the koutu said, voice dripping with skepticism.

“What’s the issue?” the officer shot back.

“Pah! Big lizard’ll just fly up! You’d better have the throwing arm of a god if you wanna reach em’ with those!”

“You got a better idea?!” the sheriff snapped.

The bird hesitated. “Actually...yeah.”

“And just what’s that?”

The koutu hurried up beside them and pulled out his revolver. It was large, long and looked heavy as hell.

“I’m gonna plug em’ full of holes.”

The sheriff scoffed. The officer gave the bird a funny look. “You sure that’s a good idea, mister?” “You’ll see,” the koutu offered.

“Yer crazy!” Red shouted, “Yer as good as dead if you think you can just up n’ shoot that beastie!”

“You’ll see,” he repeated. The sheriff shook his head again.

“God, why do I always get the loony ones?”

“Uh, hey,” the officer interrupted, “I’m sure you’re a good shot and all, and that’s one hell of a big iron, but this ain’t no outlaw.”

“Oh, I know. This ain’t the first dragon I’ve tangled with.”

The officer looked genuinely surprised at that. “No kidding?! Well shoot, maybe you really can get us outta this, then…”

“You’ve fought one of these things before?!” Red questioned, his anger seeming to melt at the realization.

The bird nodded. “Yup. She was a biggun, lemme tell ya. ‘Course I had help during that scuffle.”

“How’d ya do it?” the officer asked.

“Well, me n’ a few other gunslingers rounded up a posse. Ganged up on ‘er. We had all sortsa big guns on our side so it wasn’t too bad. Speakin’ of...am I gettin’ any help from you or the rest of your folks?”

“We’re uh, a little busy, what with the gang comin’ to town n’ all.” the officer answered with a frown.

“Ah...well, what about you two?”

“We’ll pitch in...as long as we can,” the sheriff answered grimly.

“Appreciate it. You don’t have to go too crazy out there. Keep your distance. Just make sure to pop off a few rounds whenever I’m in a fix, ya hear?”

“Well shoot, don’t wanna leave you doing all the work out there,” the officer announced, “Shouldn’t be the rear guard, now!”

“You know any fancy spells?” the koutu questioned.

“Naw, not a soul ‘round these parts.”

“Then don’t push yourself. Just trust me. I should be fine.”

“If you say so…”

The harsh, unforgiving rays of the sun were starting to make all three of them sweat and sigh, and they hadn’t even started exerting themselves yet! They reached the outer limits of town, the lines of wooden buildings coming to an end as they began their march to the river outside.

“Say, I didn’t catch your names,” the bird said, turning his head to the pair.

The officer in the white hat spared him a glace. “Ah. Well, the name’s Michaels. Officer Michaels.” He pointed a thumb over to the sheriff. “Aaand that there’s Red. Sheriff, sure as you could tell.”

“I see. A pleasure to meet you folks.”

There was a long pause as the three walked. Finally, Michaels turned to look at the koutu again.

“...so?”

The bird shot him a look back. “So...it’s nice to be acquainted.”

“But we ain’t.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You haven’t introduced yourself.”

The koutu shrugged. “I haven’t.”

Michaels frowned. “Y’know, it’s mighty rude not to introduce yerself after everyone else has.”

As they talked, the group neared the edge of a cliffside. Near where they were there was a massive arch of stone hanging over one side of the cliff to the other, almost like a miniature tunnel. There was also a large drop below, and on the other side the ground came back to the same level. A gorge. A gorge with a large river flowing through it.

A gorge where a dragon was currently sitting.

The beast wasn’t too large, likely a young adult. It had red scales, a firebreather. He was currently lying in the river, head resting against the rocky grounds while his body was partially submerged. Was he washing up? Stopping to drink? Just taking a dip?

The koutu didn’t know, but he did know one thing; his target was waiting.

“Tell ya what,” he spoke in a whisper, “If I live through this, I’ll tell ya my name. How’s that?”

“Oh, fer-”

“Yeah yeah,” he interrupted the sheriff, “You two, take some cover,” he pointed at a large boulder beside them, “I’m goin’ in.”

“You nut!” Red whispered back, “He’ll charr ya to smithereens!”

“Just back me up n’ we should all be headin’ back soon,” the koutu assured him.

“Well...shoot, alright,” Michaels muttered, “But I still got the dynamite.”

“Get it ready, you won’t have a chance once he’s in the air.” The koutu took a deep breath. “...here we go. Best a’ luck to ya, officers.”

The koutu spread his wings out and leapt over the cliffside, soaring out into the gorge. The sheriff and lawman quickly crouched behind the boulder, guns drawn.

The bird landed on a flat strip of rock about halfway down the gorge, still without his weapons drawn. “Howdy, mister!” The red dragon’s eyes snapped open, his body unmoving as his gaze focused on the gunslinger.

“You dare rouse me from my rest?” the great beast spoke in a melodious, yet mighty voice, “Who are you that is so foolish to anger me?”

“Oh, ‘scuse me mister, but I’ve heard some nasty things...like that yer’ about to burn that little town down yonder to ash?”

“Indeed I am,” the dragon retorted, “My domain is mine to play with. Your point?”

“Ah. That’s a damn shame, ‘cause I take offense to that, sir.”

“Oh?” the dragon rose, his head quickly moving to rise on par with the koutu’s ground. “And just what are you planning on doing about this, you who are so small and weak?”

“Well for starters, Plan A is askin’ ya nicely to reconsider.”

The dragon let out a booming laugh. “Gahahahaha! Pathetic! No, you will not be asking anything of me. This withering husk of life will be purified by my most sacred flames. I shall not be persuaded.”

The koutu shrugged. “Worth a shot. Looks like I’ll just have to stop you myself then.”

The dragon’s grin grew manic. “I would like to see you try. Go on. Raise your arm to strike. I will cut you down in a moment.”

The bird smirked before letting out a sharp whistle. The dragon looked confused for a moment before realization hit him...in the form of a stick of dynamite.

Hurled from over the cliffside, it smacked into the dragon’s head before exploding in a spectacular fashion.

“Damn perfect throw, officer!” the koutu yelled before reeling back and letting a bolt of magic loose. The glowing blue spear flew forward, piercing the beast that still reeled from the explosion.

Michaels’ eyes went wide. “He’s a sorcerer!” he cried out to the sheriff, “No wonder he was so damn cocky!”

“Shit,” Red mumbled, “Maybe I was wrong about all this.”

The beast roared out in fury, eyes burning as they honed in on the now flying koutu.

“YOU WILL BURN AWAY FOR THIS, FOOLISH MORTAL!”

Mood Music

“Yer’ outgunned, friend!” the koutu shot back, whirling to the side as a plume of flames erupted from the dragon’s maw. Using his momentum, the stranger spun around mid-flight and took out his revolver, fanning the hammer and emptying all six shots into the beast.

The two humans noted a strange blue tinge of air that enveloped the bullets as they flew through the air, becoming plumes of magic that dissipated around the scales where the bullets landed.

“Enchanted bullets too!” Michaels shouted, “We can do this, sir!”

Red’s eyes narrowed. “Cover him!” the Sheriff began firing off rounds from his revolver at the dragon, while Michaels did the same.

Shell casings hit the ground alongside the stranger, who quickly reloaded his revolver as the dragon snarled, coming to a sudden pause. The beast felt the bullets from the pair up above hit him in the back.

The dragon whirled around, letting out a roar and glaring at the sheriff and white hat…

But before he could go after them, the koutu held up a taloned hand, before bringing it down. A bolt of divine lightning descended from the sky, striking the beast and making it cry out in pain.

Huffing, the dragon slowly turned his head to see the stranger, hand glowing and pulsing with magic as his other hand held his revolver aimed at the behemoth.

There was a moment of silence as everyone took in what just happened.

“Y-you…” the beast spoke softly, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I’m right here, huckleberry!” the koutu shouted, firing off another round and striking the beast’s head.

The red dragon let out another roar, recovering from the blast before flying out towards the koutu, who leapt off the cliffside he stood on and began flying along the gorge.

The two humans’ eyes were wide as dinner plates. Michaels looked over to Red.

“Well shoot, sir! He ain’t no sorcerer...he’s a goddamn paladin!”

The sheriff shook his head. “Crazy bastard...no wonder! Well it’s about damn time we got some proper help around here!”

Michaels frowned. “This shooter ain’t doin’ it. I need more kick.” the lawman tucked his pistol away and reached for the rifle on his back. Unslinging the lever-action repeater into his hands, the officer closed an eye and took careful aim.

A steady barrage of gunshots rang out as Michaels started firing and cocking the lever of the repeater, while Red kept firing his revolver.

The dragon, furious by this point, ignored the pain of the volleys of bullets hitting his back and went flying after the koutu, eyes near slits.

With another roar, the dragon let forth a jet of flames from his maw, the koutu whirling to the side as the fire flew past where he had been just a moment ago.

The sudden spike in temperature made the paladin wince. “Hoo! That’s hot!”

“You will wish that was as hot is it gets when I am through with you, bird!” the dragon barked back, spinning through the air himself as he moved to the stranger’s side.

The speed and agility of the dragon caught the koutu by surprise. Just a moment ago he seemed so clumsy and lumbering, but the dragons were the rulers of the sky…

With a crack of his tail, the koutu was slammed into with murderous force, sent rocketing to the cliffside and slamming into it. He hit the rocks so hard he left a small crater...but the paladin groaned, and grabbed at the sides of the man-sized crater.

He had thrown up a ward at the exact moment the dragon’s tail shifted. If he had been just a fraction of a second slower…

“Holy land of God, he’s alive!” Red cried, both of the humans staring slack-jawed as the bird pulled himself forward and onto the ground. Even the dragon seemed to reel back from the koutu’s survival, unintentionally showing his own fear.

“B-but you...I…”

The stranger snarled at the dragon, hand already pulsing with magical energy.

“I’m gonna put you in a world of hurt, amigo.”

The bird reeled back and the magic changed, blue lights shifting into the likeness of a javelin. He heaved the javelin forward and let it go with all his might, magical weapon flying through the air and straight into the dragon's chest.

The beast roared and snarled as the holy javelin pierced him, quickly fading away into nothing. The stranger followed up with another bolt of lightning, and then began firing off shots as he leapt back into the air and began flying back towards the humans.

“Graaaaah...it is nothing! Your fortune cannot last! I WILL BURY YOU!”

The koutu huffed as he twirled through the air, occasionally popping off shots at the dragon. They only cause minor injury, but they were certainly starting to pile up. The beast was grunting and growling with each movement, wincing as he adjusted his wings and moved his body.

All that punishment had certainly hurt him, only...there was quite a ways to go.

Narrowly avoiding a claw swipe then diving straight down to avoid a gust of flames, the paladin knew the dragon was right; his luck would run out eventually. If he just kept trying to whittle him down…

Have to think of something quick. Those humans, there has to be something they can do...

His eyes darted to the massive stone tunnel. It was enormous, enormous enough to fit even the dragon currently on his tail.

Wait...that’s it!

The koutu focused for a moment, eyes narrowing as he honed in on the white hat’s mind…

Hey, Michaels! You still got some dynamite?!

He could hear the bewildered response in his own mind. W-what?! What the hell?!

Yeah yeah, I’m talkin’ to your mind, I can do that! Now tell me, ya got that dynamite?

Wha-yeah, yeah I do! The hell you askin’ for, mister?!

I’ve got a plan, the birdman announced, I need some heavy explosives. How much you got?

There was a pause. W-well, I uhh...look, don’t tell Red about this, but I brought a couple crates. Hid em’ here ‘cause I thought we’d need em’. Right by that tree behind us. You plannin’ somethin’ big?

VERY big. That big ol’ archway, put those crates by the supports. You follow?

Michaels’ voice was ecstatic now. Ho boy, do I! On it!

The koutu continued evading the dragon and darting from left to right, dodging swings and fire breath all the while.

“FILTH!” the dragon roared, “YOU ARE FINISHED!”

“We’ll see about that!” the koutu hollered back, twirling through the air as he picked up more and more speed.

In the far distance, he could make out the two humans hurrying down a less steep incline to the bottom of the ravine, carrying a massive crate between the pair of them.

He kept up the pace. His initial skirmish with the dragon had caused them to fly pretty far from their initial starting point. Behind him, the dragon breathed fire and shouted further threats.

The two lawmen reached the stone arches and quickly got to work, burying bundles of dynamite along the foundations of the stone.

The gunslinger looked over his shoulder just in time to see the dragon breathe a plume of fire at him, diving and whirling to the right just in time. He could feel the scorching heat of the flames as they flew straight past him.

Further along, the humans seemed to be wrapping up their job, with dynamite scattered all throughout the bottom of the archway.

Alright, the white hat called to his mind, What’s our next move?

On my signal, light the fuse and run like hell…

The koutu dove lower, increasing his velocity as he dropped from the sky to only just flying above the river. The dragon remained in pursuit as they approached the stone archway…

Now that he was closer, he could see the pair shouting at each other, waving their hands wildly.

There was little doubt in the koutu’s head that they were arguing over the plan. Red likely started yelling about how crazy it was after Michaels told him.

“Come on...don’t let me down now…” the paladin muttered as he flew closer, the water underneath him nearly touching him as he struggled to keep his momentum.

Continuing to rocket forward with the dragon hot on his tail, he narrowed his eyes, judging the distance between himself and the others, along with the speed he was moving. If he just made it a little closer…

NOW! He shouted in his head, sending the order to the lawman.

In a moment, he saw the pair of humans bolt up the path they came running down, with lit fuses on the piles of dynamite signaling the impending explosion…

The koutu noticed a shift in the winds behind him. He turned and saw, much to his shock, the dragon slowing down, a noticeable amount of concern written on the creature’s face.

It knew what he was trying to do.

“What’s the matter, scared?!” the bird called back, “You yellow-bellied coward!”

As he turned his attention back in front of him, he noticed the sound of wildly flapping wings and deep snarl. It was now doubling its efforts to catch him.

Perhaps it was arrogance. Perhaps it was blind fury. Perhaps the dragon simply thought it could catch him before they reached the craggy rocks up ahead. Either way, it was now gaining on him, trying desperately to get him.

The gunslinger could feel his heart pounding against his chest now. He was in between a furious, rampaging dragon and a pile of lit dynamite that could blast him to pieces...and both were closing in on him.

As he reached the arches, he could practically feel the dragon on his back...and below him, he could see the lit dynamite’s fuse was entirely gone.

The koutu winced, praying to God for just a second’s more time-

A deafening explosion signalled the end to his plan. Dipping through the archway and emerging out the other side, the stranger barely had enough time to think as the earth shook, more explosions triggered as they caught more dynamite in each blast, and the dragon behind him let out a howling roar of agony.

The koutu turned and saw a whole ton of solid rock collapsing, the unique natural landmark crashing down onto the distracted and pain-wracked dragon. The beast collapsed into the river, covered in rubble.

The two humans, having looped around along the top of the cliffside, slid down into the gorge. The koutu, meanwhile, landed on the ground beside the carnage.

Michaels let out a loud cheer, keeping a hand on his hat as he slid down to the koutu. “Hoo-wee! You did it! I can’t believe you did it! That was a helluva stunt there, partner!”

Red reached the bottom after him, shaking his head. “Goddamn. I thought you were roast turkey, friend.”

The stranger shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Before either of them could answer, another voice made itself known.

The low, pained cry of a dragon.

The trio turned to look at the beast. It lay half-buried in the rubble of the stone that once stood tall above the river. Only the front half of the dragon was visible through the ruins. With claws outstretched towards the group, and an expression of suffering written on its face which was half submerged in the river, there was no doubting this creature was badly hurt, if not close to death.

“A-aaahhh...o-oh, my…”

Micheals quickly took his revolver out of his holster and took aim. “Ain’t so tough now, are ya, partner?”

Red followed suit, walking up and aiming his revolver at the eyes of the beast. “What’s that I heard about scorching my town?”

The dragon let out a groan. “No...not yet...not like this…”

The koutu put his hands on his hips and gave the beast a serious look. “It’s over, amigo. Yer finished.”

The dragon’s eyes widened in horror. “It cannot be...no...NO! You must not!”

The paladin shook his head. “Gimme one good reason.”

The beast, to his surprise, remained silent. The koutu raised a brow.

“No promises of riches? No artifacts? No blusterin’ threats?”

“I...I have no hoard, no fortune. I have nothing. Nothing of my own, and nothing to give, a-and…” the beast’s eyes grew hazy and distant. “F-feels...cold…”

The koutu’s eyes shot open as he realized it. This beast was dying.

The explosions had done more damage than he had thought, and with all the rubble he couldn’t even check.

The humans behind him coldly stared at the monster in silence, guns still aimed at him. They seemed to believe this might have been a trick.

The paladin turned back to the dragon, a promising, yet risky and optimistic idea in his mind.

“I can save ya.”

“What?!”

That word had been uttered by both the dragon and the humans.

“Yeah. If you want.”

“The hell are ya doin’?!” Red demanded, glaring at the birdman.

“Y-you would...do that?” the red dragon asked. Both surprise and hope were apparent in his desperate speech.

“Suuure...but this is conditional, ya hear? You gotta make me a promise.”

“Anything!” the beast cried. Apparently once his delusions of invincibility were shattered, this dragon realized just how much life he had left to live, and was willing to do what other dragons might not to preserve it.

The koutu crouched down next to the dragon and stared straight into its large, reptilian eye. “In exchange for your life, I want you to do a complete 180, ya hear?”

The beast stared back at him, but his eye was unfocused and clouded. “What...do you mean?”

“From here on out, this ‘domain’ is not yours to ‘play with’...but to protect.”

A sharp hiss rang out as the dragon attempted to move its body among the rubble. “Y-you mean…”

“That’s right. You keep an eye out on this town. You come runnin’ when they holler for yer help. You help out the law with criminals on the run, keep the town safe. Hell, maybe you should help em’ out with gatherin’ and huntin’ too!”

Michaels sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Look, that’s a mighty nice thing you’re tryin’ to do here pal, but I don’t think he’ll-”

“Yes...I will do it...”

The lawman tilted his head. “Wha-”

The koutu smirked, craning his neck towards the dragon. “What was that, mister? I didn’t quite hear that...”

“I agree!” the red beast said hurriedly.

“Swear on it.”

“I swear on my life, my honor, and all I hold most dear!” the dragon cried, “Please...my vision grows dark…”

The koutu grimaced. “This is gonna take a lot outta me, partner. You PROMISE yer gonna keep up yer end of the bargain?”

The beast began to twitch. “P-please...I beseech thee…”

Realizing he had to do this right now if he wanted the dragon to live, the paladin kneeled beside the beast and placed his hands upon the larger creature.

Closing his eyes, the paladin willed all the energy within his body to move into the dragon, muttering quietly in prayer as the divine aided him.

The two humans viewed this scene with a healthy amount of skepticism, backing up and keeping their weapons at the ready.

“Lord, this is crazy,” Red muttered.

“Who knows?” Michaels said with a shrug, “Maybe it’ll work.”

After over a minute of praying and utilizing his holy magic, the paladin at last stopped, his body spent from the taxing effort of healing this great beast.

He rose to his feet, wobbling for a moment before going for a pack on his belt. He took out a sleepskip potion and quickly began to guzzle it down.

The dragon, in the meantime, began to blink. Its head rose and it looked around the area with a vested interest.

The koutu sighed as he screwed the top back onto the potion and stuffed it back into his pouch. “What are ya starin’ at, partner?”

“Hmm...my vision has returned, in perfect clarity.”

“Good! So...feel better?”

“...I feel perfect.”

The dragon followed this up with a surge upwards, bursting out of the rubble with seemingly no effort. He flapped his wings and rose above the debris and ruin, circling around and landing in the gorge beside the koutu.

With the huge beast staring down at him with an unreadable expression, the paladin worried he might have simply just gotten tricked. He tensed up, ready to act, when the dragon spoke.

“You saved my life. For what reason, I am unsure. You have no reason to trust me. I am a threat. I am your enemy...and yet, you showed me kindness anyway.”

The koutu shrugged, a false grin plastered on his beak. “Figured I could take you if you turned out to be lying.”

“...you are a poor liar. But it is obvious that is not your trade. No, you follow the old ways. Those tenets of honor and chivalry, a sacred warrior code forged in the crucible of your precious church.”

The koutu let out a laugh. “Aww, what gave it away?”

“At any rate...I am in your debt, and as such, I will uphold our bargain. For this second chance, I, Astronomus, hereby proclaim myself as the Guardian of Pike’s Creek, home to those venerable warriors that showed me mercy when I needed it most.”

The koutu nodded. “That’s good to hear...cause we’ve got yer first mission ready, friend.”

Astronomus seemed genuinely surprised. “Already? Did you offer me this deal because you had a use for me to begin with?”

“Dead on.”

Astronomus’ eyes narrowed. “Very clever...very well, what is it?”

…

Gunshots rang out all around the town as the bandits continued their advance. Each time they attacked, the town posse was pushed back. Each time the citizens attempted a counter attack, they lost people. They now settled for giving ground rather than risking more lives.

Deputy Harry loaded yet another six rounds into his revolver, sitting behind a fence as cover. He had lost his rifle when the bandits blasted his cover with dynamite further up the street. Like all the other lawmen, he had a hat, vest, and a shiny badge identifying him.

A few others were spread out along the street, hiding behind various bits of cover as both they and the bandits popped off shots at each other.

Things were getting desperate now. A few of the men that joined up to fight had run out of ammo, and were sent back to the sheriff’s to get more. A couple had been killed, and two had been shot.

Harry grimaced as he shot a bandit and watched him go down. There were too many. Things were getting desperate…

A man rounded the corner and tackled him, sending both of them to the ground. Just as the bandit rose to a kneeling position and aimed his gun at the deputy, a loud bang made him freeze.

The man collapsed on top of the deputy, who quickly threw him aside and looked out to the road.

A woman in a simple dress, holding a rifle, nodded at him. This was Alice, the local cook’s daughter.

Things were bad, and they needed every hand they had…

“Thanks!” Harry called out as he got back up and pressed himself up against the fence. He steadied his balance, taking a deep breath and reading himself for the next attack…

With a bellowing cry, the entire group of bandits charged forward, aiming to overwhelm the defenders in a blind rush. Crowds of men stormed down the street, closing the distance with exceptional speed.

It took a moment for it to sink into Harry’s head: No matter how much they shot, they wouldn’t take enough of them down before they were overrun.

Gritting his teeth, Harry cried out. “Everyone, fall back! I’ll cover you!”

He only fired two shots before an earth-shaking roar made everyone taking part in the battle freeze.

That roar came from behind him, and after the scare this morning, that could only mean one thing…

Slowly, he turned and looked up, and within the sky, the source of his fears approached. A massive beast of red scales and sharp eyes, wings blocking out the sun with their sheer size, and an imposing visage of a legendary creature.

The dragon had arrived.

Harry let his shoulders slump and his head lower. It had kept its promise; it was here to burn Pike’s Creek to cinders and kill everyone inside.

The town’s done for...but maybe I can get a few folks out…

Steeling himself, Harry took a few sharp breaths and held his revolver in a vice-grip, hands shaking.

Before he could even call out for everyone to follow him, a bewildering sight caught the breath in his throat.

A birdman in gunslinger garb stood up on top of the dragon and leapt into the air, doing a backflip before catching the wind and flying forward towards the group.

The dragon passed the town posse and stopped in front of the charging bandits, giving them only a moment to scream before he let out a plume of flames from his maw.

The jet of fire poured down onto the crowd of bandits, charring them to bits in a mere second. There was some comfort in the lack of screams; at least the usually agonizing way to die was quick with dragonfire.

The dragon then landed among the buildings along the main town road, only having barely enough room to do so. In a moment that only furthered his shock, Harry watched Sheriff Red and Officer Michaels slide down the beast’s back and onto the ground.

“What in the goddamn…?”

“Heya, deputy!” Michaels shouted cheerfully, a lever-action rifle resting on his shoulder.

“The hell is goin’ on?!” Harry shouted, confused.

“We made a new friend,” Red explained, pointing a thumb over his back, “Not this one, another one who talked him into...helping out.”

“Helping out…?” “This fella’s turned his way around, ain’t that right, pal?!” Michaels called out, turning around.

The dragon frowned and lowered his head. “Indeed. I am Astronomus, and I am here to aid you. In exchange for mercy at the hands of these victors, I have sworn to become the Guardian of Pike’s Creek. I will drive these rabble out.

Michaels pointed at the building beside them. “Err, hey, Astronomus…”

The tavern had been hit by the flames as well, part of the wall currently covered in flames that licked at the chipping paint along the welcome sign.

The dragon performed what Harry could only imagine was an embarrassed grin before flapping his wing at it, the whipping winds snuffing out the flames.

The deputy watched as the koutu in the distance twirled through the air and fired a few shots at what he presumed were fleeing bandits.

“Who wants some lead in they ear?!” the bird cried out faintly, “Step on up!”

Harry took off his hat and gave Red an exasperated look. “You got some weird help around here, sheriff.”

…

“...and that’s it.”

Red gave the bird a grin. The pair were overlooking Pike’s Creek from a hill on the northern side of town. The sun was beginning to set, the sky bathing the town in a vibrant hue of orange.

After the fight concluded, folks had began to clean up. The dragon was busy helping out and adjusting to its new role as protector rather than destroyer. With everyone else busy, Red decided to humor the stranger’s request to see him off.

“So all your affairs are settled,” the koutu noted.

“That’s right, and it’s all thanks to you, stranger.”

“Eh, I lucked out. If my gamble with the dragon backfired…”

“It didn’t, and that’s all I care about. You saved our bacon out there.”

The koutu shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

The sheriff turned his attention from the sunset to the stranger. “So, if you don’t mind me asking...who in the hell are you, son? You did some amazing things out there, with that there holy magic.”

“Perhaps this ain’t the sorta thing to admit to a man of the law, but...I’m a vigilante out for blood.”

The sheer, stark honestly of that statement made the sheriff’s eyes go wide. “Eh?”

The koutu nodded. “It’s true.”

The dragon said he’s a terrible liar…

Red cleared his throat. “Well, then...what in the blazes are you doing?”

The koutu gazed into the setting sun, expression turning sullen. “It goes back a long way. See, back in my hometown, there was this...bully. He liked to torment us other kids, got a real kick out of it.”

Red seemed skeptical. “Okay…”

The koutu’s eyes narrowed. “But then he beat my little brother with a rock.”

“Ah, blazes…”

“I beat the stuffing out of em’,” the koutu admitted, “I beat him so bad he threw up and couldn’t move til’ a grown up found him some time later.”

“So that’s gotta do with yer’ blood feud?”

“Yeah. You see...that kid...he didn’t make it.”

“Holy hell…”

The stranger shook his head. “My little brother nearly didn’t, either. If I hadn’t stopped him…”

“I understand,” Red said quietly, “I get it. It’s fucked up, but I get it.”

The koutu slowly nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the pair before the koutu gathered himself and continued.

“Well, his paw didn’t like that very much. Came to my house and stabbed MY paw. Thankfully some fine folks were walkin’ by and saw the whole thing. Paw pulled through, he skipped town when he realized he was gonna be thrown in jail, and life moved on.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Joined the church, they realized I had a knack for the whole magic thing, so I joined up with the clerics. Ascended to paladin not too long ago.”

“Impressive,” Red said with a nod.

“Well, I tried to move on. You do things you don’t mean sometimes, you know? I wish things had turned out differently, but all you can do is try to make up for it, go onto a better path. Ya know?”

Red nodded. “I gotcha...but you don’t seem at all like a man out fer blood.”

“I wouldn’t be normally, but something happened recently. Came home and found my brother out like a light on the floor. The folks were out of town...and my sis was missing. On her bed, I found a note taunting me, about how vengeance was finally his...and it was signed with that man’s initials.”

The sheriff reeled from the information. “He came back after all those years to hurt ya?”

The bird nodded, eyes locked on the ground. “Guess he was planning to settle the score while everyone else was tryin’ to forget…”

“My God…”

“Well, I started tracking him, he left a pretty obvious trail on the way out. I started out on the roads, and began to notice that I thought I had a pretty good idea where he was going. I came to Geralthin, was passing through here, and, well...here I am.”

“You gotta rescue yer sis, and you wasted all this time helping a couple of fools out?!”

“It’s what I do,” the koutu said, more quietly than the first time.

“Aw, hell, pal...you didn’t need to do this. You’ve got more important stuff to worry about.”

“I told you already, I’m not a man to leave others out in the dark. I know what it feels like to be helpless, to lose what you care about. I ain’t about to watch that happen to Lord knows how many folks.

“...you’re a good man. I apologize for the tongue lashin’ back when we met.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the koutu assured, “All water under the bridge. Now I’ve gotta get goin’, but first…”

The gunslinger reached into the pouches on his belt and began to rummage through.

“I’d like ya to have this.”

The bird pulled out a large rock, decorated with strange runes, the indents along the design were glowing a dim blue. He held it out to the sheriff.

“A...a rock?” Red questioned, taking it and inspecting the surface.

“Wrong. An anchor, partner. The second half to this.”

The bird pulled out another rock with similar designs and a blue glow, but this one was much smaller, and shaped to be easily held in a fist, unlike the large, disklike stone he had offered.

“Anchor? You mean that fancy magic that holds stuff?”

“Not exactly. This is the anchor half of a spell, not the anchor spell itself. That’s part of the teleportation ritual. Ya see, that’s what teleports, and this here rock in my hand tells it what to teleport.”

“You mean…”

The koutu grinned. “Yup! You just put that rock on the ground and say the magic word, and I’ll be alerted from my half of it. I should come runnin’ unless I’m doin’ somethin’ REAL important.”

Red was in disbelief. “Y-ya mean you’ll help us out of ANOTHER fix?!”

“If it comes to it, yeah. I’m really startin’ to like you fellas, and yer fine little town. If you need help, or if you just wanna see me, by all means, call me over!”

“Aw hell, you’re really somethin’, ya know that mister?”

The koutu answered by quickly wrapping his wings around the man in a hug. The human was shocked by the sudden display of affection, unsure how to respond.

“Resolve,” the bird whispered, beak beside his ear.

“Eh...what?”

The paladin pulled back and winked. “The magic word. Just call it out when you want to and the magic in that stone’ll spring to life.

“Oh! I gotcha. Jeez...you caught me off guard, there.”

“You know how it is,” the koutu admitted, “Dunno when I’ll see ya next, so might as well put my cards on the table. I think you folks are swell, and I hope the best fer ya all!”

“You too, mister!”

The koutu stretched his arms. “Eyup...well, I really should be going, now. Baddies are awaitin’!”

As he took a step forward, Red held an arm out. “Wait a second!”

The koutu stopped and turned back. “Yeah?”

“You never told me, stranger!”

The bird raised a brow. “Told ya what now?”

“You said if you lived you’d tell me yer name!”

The koutu’s eyes lit up. “Ah, right! Well...call me...Razorwing!”

Red blinked. “Yer...Razorwing?”

“That’s right! Now...see ya around, sheriff!”

The stranger leapt into the air and unfurled his wings, catching the wind and soaring off into the sky. In his wake, he left a conflicted and confused sheriff.

…

“Yeah, it’s right here.”

Michaels led Red further into the library. When the sheriff told the lawman what the bird had told him, Michaels got a funny look in his eye.

He claimed he knew something about “Razorwing”.

Now Red watched as Michaels pulled a book off of the shelves, holding it up to the sheriff’s face.

Two things really caught the man’s attention. Firstly, the picture.

The cover had a lovingly crafted illustration of a koutu with a striking white head and a brown body. He wore flowing, white robes with a short, vibrant red cape and had a quiver on his hip. In his hands he held a longbow, aiming it up and striking a heroic pose worthy of a statue.

The second was the title of the book: “The Adventures of Razorwing”.

Red blinked. “W-what in the hell?”

“Yeah,” Michaels said, “That’s Razorwing.”

“B-but he’s lookin like some man from the dark ages!”

“Close,” the officer said with a smile, “He’s from the Middle Ages, about 1350. He was a big celebrity in his day, and his fame only increased after a couple generations. He was an archer that went on all sorts of adventures. Fightin’ monsters, stoppin’ bad guys, savin’ everyone...a real man of honor. Did you know he could shoot so straight he could shoot a man twice and split the first arrow?”

“You know an awful lot about this bird fella.”

Michaels shrugged innocently. “Consider me a fan. Mama always read me storybooks about him when I was a kid.”

“He’s that popular, huh? Well, anyway...what does all this mean? I don’t get it,” Red admitted.

“That man that helped us out...think about it. He’s a warrior on a mission, a skilled and brave man out adventurin’ to stop bad guys. He’s a shooter with some special kick, and he shares his looks with a certain famous someone…”

“Ya mean...he took his name?”

“That’s right. He chose an old folk hero from his country he identified with...and he’s tryin’ to keep the torch lit. Least that’s what I think.”

The sheriff shook his head. “Two Razorwings...that’ll throw folks for a loop, don’t you think?”

Michaels laughed. “That’s only if he ever becomes famous.”

Red looked out a window beside him, gazing into the quickly darkening sky. “...I got a feeling he’ll make it through his journey. He’s something else.”

“True,” the lawman uttered quietly, “It’s like Razorwing always said...every age has its heroes.”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae, @purpleshadows1989

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death-himself · 5 years

Text

enjoy my theories and me connecting dots that weren’t meant to be connected and also random notes

this is from my third time watching the new episode, including every single tiny detail i noticed because when it comes to theorizing i either dont do anything or go all out

also know that I am terrible at reading facial expressions so most of those parts are likely wrong

(under the cut because on google docs it said it was 7 pages long and i am afraid)

virgil looks automatically anxious and frustrated

logan stutters a lot after roman makes the "take off your glasses" joke and i cant tell if hes confused or if hes actually offended by that

what they all say the first time they yell at logan: virgil: "shut up before i shut you up" thomas: "WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH" patton: "hey now heeeyy nowww" slowly turning into song

thomas calls virgil "the purp man"

references to Sword and the stone? may refer to something?

second time they yell at logan: virgil: "i'm gonna prohibit your BREATHING if you keep this up" (damn virge calm down) thomas: "please stop please i really dont want to think about it" patton doesnt speak (im pretty sure)

virgil glances at thomas a lot

is it just me or around the time virgil says "we're going to talk about something else now" he starts to sound a lot like deceit? Especially with that "sure"

roman gets easily distracted

"of course you're not a chick. You're a metaphysical human being. A chick is a really ??? girl"

why does remus appear behind the TV?

patton notices remus when saying "evil" virgil notices remus when saying "show up" and his tempest tongue comes in

when roman get knocked out the first time virgil looks at thomas like hes frustrated or annoyed maybe he looks at thomas like that because he thought it was thomas that was to blame for him showing up? since he was the one to have those intrusive thoughts?

also why does remus smack roman with a morning star?

all dark sides wear eye shadow confirmed

also this disproves the theory that all dark sides have a more animalistic features, therefore proving the headcanon that deceit just puts on makeup to look like he has scales on his face because hes dramatic

virgil looks kind of scared right before the song starts

during the song: logan looks done with everything thomas looks scared virgil looks furious and maybe defensive (that snarl tho) patton looks confused

why is patton of all sides to be the one to puke out remus (that's probably not the weirdest line i've written)

Remus considers any creativity that isn't dirty or horrific (aka his stuff) to be dull or boring

I think the A-Z part of the song is a reference to this one song video about the ABCs of ways to die but i have no clue

Even early on in the song when logan says "It's fine" it shows that hes trying to sort this out and get to the problem, but Remus prevents him from continuing, then allows Pat and Virge to say their thoughts

ROMAN CALLS REMUS "BRO" 8 MINUTES IN

"recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge" reference to deceit but also adam and eve

one of deceit's hands is holding a gavel reference to SvS

also deceit wears a coat just sayin

"No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you" this means that deceit really doesn't want thomas to lie to himself

why is deceit always the one with multiple arms when half his face is a snake? snakes dont have arms

Is remus holding up the mirror to thomas a reference to remus and roman basically being mirror images of each other?

Remus is SO PALE compared to thomas WHICH IS WEIRD CUZ THOMAS IS ALREADY REALLY PALE

I think remus is actually a lot smarter than he seems he knows how to manipulate thomas into believing hes a bad person by using religious topics and language, something that's been with thomas his whole life

also while remus is singing about hell he turns from normal to fully colored green, similar to all the other sides

Virgil looks so disturbed and frustrated after the song

"I'm really stupid right now" MOOD

when remus agrees with thomas that roman's his creativity he's just like "yeah...." SIBLING RELATIONSHIPS TO A T

Virgil and Remus argue like they know each other super well

Patton's so pure he doesn't even like to say "B-hole" precious dad

Remus uses words that have been said before to back himself up "Why do you want to stifle your own creativity, thomas?" 12 Days of Christmas: "We shouldn't stifle Roman's creative whimsy!" also all the other times roman's admitted to feeling ignored

Virgil's so uncomfortable he might have been afraid that remus would outright say that hes a dark side (bc honestly remus seems like the kind of guy to do that)

Why does remus like Jeffery Dommer so much?

also when remus turned his head to the side at about 10:30 the music matches and sounds like hes cracking his neck

Remus gets confused for a moment when Logan takes his "lot of good that did him!" seriously this seems to be a recurring theme throughout all the dark sides: them being confused by logan taking things literally You think I'm joking? I'm not Virgil early on gets frustrated that logan seems to "only take what he says literally" and I'm pretty sure I remember some time where deceit has to stop to process the fact that logan took one of his metaphors seriously

LOGAN IS A PSYCHOLOGY NERD AND WOULD LIKELY BE A PRETTY DECENT THERAPIST. YOU CAN NOT CHANGE MY MIND

Patton looks so scared when logan asks him to do the experiment. Hes like "what? what do you need me for? what's going on?"

virgil looks so tired and annoyed when he says "good save"

LOGAN GIVING OUT VALIDATION TO PATTON AND THEN LATER TO VIRGIL IS ADORABLE

wait does virgil blow at his bangs whenever he's really annoyed or anxious? because he did that in moving on part 2 while he was dealing with his panic attack in pattons room and then in this episode where he is clearly anxious throughout the whole thing

"No mommy I dont want the mashed potatoes" ROMAN HAS A MOM WHICH MEANS THAT REMUS HAS A MOM BUT WHO TF IS THEIR MOM

when thomas calls remus scary and he responds with that it sounds like a virgil problem Virgil glares at him so clearly defensive and angry remus just smiles like "yeah, i know whats going on"

virgil's the only one who doesnt suspect logan to be deceit when remus claims it

you know when everyone was creating theories about who romans counterpart would be and everyone was expecting them to be extremely elegant and suave? yeah, why the fuck did we think that? If the dark sides are like mirror images of the light sides, then of course remus would be this chaotic demon with literally no elegance whatsoever roman's the elegant, romantic, graceful prince, so of course whatever remus is would be his opposite

Cane and Abel - another biblical reference

also after remus says that virgil looks like hes confused or maybe just deep in thought about something

self-immolate means to set fire to yourself i had to look it up too remus literally wants thomas to strip, set himself on fire and play shake it off

despite all the biblical references reeling thomas in, remus is sooo bad at getting his point across "and then the baby...dies" "AND NO ONE SURVIVES"

a demented version of that "hallelujah" thing plays while hes talking about the baby bird and the airplane

"I am YOUR creativity" at that it flashes to Virgil, who looks like hes thinking about it. probably a sort of build-up to show how long virgil thinks about it before admitting that remus had a point

virgil looks so nervous when remus says that hes never been one to soften the truth

"why would you aspire to be so...boring?" (i feel like the word aspire there is important for some reason)

patton tries so hard to believe that thomas is a good person to the point where he ignores logic

THAT TURN TO LOGAN REMUS DOES IS SO FRICKIN TERRIFYING

it seems like both remus and deceit seem to understand that logan is the most dangerous for them remus threatens logan to try and get him to stop talking deceit chucks logan to the very back of the courtroom in SvS

"TURN INTO A GHOST" "TURN INTO THE HULK"

"I merely gave him a baby...AND A LARGE SHARP KNIFE" ME

"one of you is enough!" I wonder how that line affected Virgil? since it's possible that at this time he was already doubting whether or not hes really grown

PATTON LITERALLY DOESN'T KNOW WHAT REPRESSION IS

that voice-crack when virgil says "But what if he's lying?" That might show how he feels about lying and deceit a bit more. he might be terrified at the thought of being lied to

paranoid is definitely a really bad word to virgil and the others know it. virgil and patton turn to look at logan the moment he says it, and logan freezes for a moment to change it into something better

when both virge and remus say "but what about jeffery dommer" virgil just looks so scared, his eyes darting around as if his mind is racing, probably worried that he really hasnt grown

they keep referring back to "that can't be where the bar is"

Logan says "figuratively" to stop Remus

"I LOVE BEING GIVEN TWO D's AT ONCE"

Virgil looks so afraid that he's still the bad guy in this its so sad

both patton and virgil laugh at poop jokes they are 29— they are very mature adults

"I would never hide anything from you" *glances at virgil* I feel like that might have been the moment virgil realized he couldn't just hide him being a dark side much longer

THEY DON'T EVEN LOOKED SCARED WHEN REMUS SCREAMED THEY JUST LOOKED ANNOYED

as the vid goes on remus tries more and more to be noticed

why did logan ask virgil how thomas was feeling instead of patton? was it because he knew thomas was really anxious or because he felt like patton would claim that he was feeling fine?

while everyone's calming down during logan's lecture, virgil just seems to grow more and more anxious, since he knows that he'll probably have to tell thomas that hes a dark side

thomas and virgil STILL dont want to go to a therapist

virgil just looks so guilty when thomas decides to lie down on the couch

"It was just like old times" when remus says that patton and logan just look so mad that he would say that

after that logan glances up at virgil to see how he feels aww

VIRGIL'S SMILE WHEN ROMAN GETS BACK UP IS SO UNSURE YET SO HOPEFUL AT THE SAME TIME

everyone just looks so proud of logan awww

virgil sounds so lost when hes about to reveal himself

he never calls them "the dark sides", just "the others"

virgil looks on the verge of tears when he says "because i was one of them". it shows how much this affects him, and how terrified he is to tell thomas. this is even more terrifying to him than telling them his name, which was shown to be an important thing to him

and afterwards thomas just goes silent, and looks so lost and confused, maybe even betrayed. he clearly needed a moment to think before saying anything

then virgil shrugs and leaves, his eyes red and full of tears, probably too scared to stay any longer

once he leaves thomas just stares at the ground processing the information

i’m bad at theorizing and my thoughts are a mess rn so all of this is probably complete shit

#sanders sides #ts spoilers #tw remus #tw duke #cursing #what i do when theorizing is write down my thoughts the moment i have them and dont look back

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faintblueivy · 5 years

Text

Is She Beautiful? - Chapter 7 - Borusara fanfiction

Apologies for such a late update! It was badly struck in this chapter but thankfully got to update it finally after some brainstorming. Thanks to all for your comments

This chapter was betaread by @roopshasil!

You can also read on Ao3.

Chapter 7

Things kept Hidden

“Idiot.”

She thought, jumping and traversing through the foliage of the trees, determined to catch up to him with a small silver object clutched in her hand.

After today's events, Sarada was not sure of what to think of boys’ sudden affection for her. Boruto had apologised to her, saying something about him saying some stuff about them being friends and others making some stupid interpretations and then marching in to annoy her. Throughout the conversation, he was a blushing and stuttering mess and Sarada wasn't sure what to make of it when he ate half of what he said by mumbling and rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous manner.

They sat there for a while, enjoying each other's company and some silence after his hasty apology for a subject she couldn't understand. Then all of a sudden, he jumped up, exclaiming how late it was and telling her that he had to go and pick Himawari up from the Hyuuga mansion since his mother was out for some work. After a quick goodbye, he had rushed off, only to drop his key. Sarada called out after him but he was fast and couldn't hear what she said.

And that's how she was left with his key. Of course, the key that needed to be returned to him. And hence, the chase.

When she finally reached the town square on the way to Boruto's home, her eyes scanned the the congregation of people below her for a mop of blonde sunshine hair. She felt herself smiling when she spotted him in midst the crowd, moving swiftly.

Wait.

Something's not right.

Both his home and the Hyuuga mansion are...on the other direction, right?

Then...where is he going?

It's didn't take her more than a few seconds to decide that this particular matter needed investigation. She has followed him before too so it shouldn't be a big deal, right?

Oh, ‘research’ is a better suited term. She's done 'research and investigation’, no following around.

Something nags her in the back of her mind to not proceed with this idea but she convinces herself that she is doing it for him! For a guy who seems to attract troubles like a magnet does iron, she should keep an eye on him. Yes, that's what she'll do. Just a small attempt to make sure that he is not messing up something again.

The path Boruto is moving on is zigzag, brittle and comparatively isolated. A little confusing too but she can recognise the familiar landscape. She keeps a steady pace and notices where this path actually leads to.

The Chunin exam stadium.

A weird sensation pricks her agitation even more. She wants to jump and pin him down and ask him what the hell he's doing here? But Sarada prides herself for being a level headed kunoichi (most of the times) so she holds herself back. She will stay back and observe him from afar. Her puzzlement over this entire situation grows even further when he approaches the adults, converses with them and then enters the damaged area in the insides of the ruined stadium.

Sarada knows that she is not a master of shadows but still, she could be quite stealthy when the situation desires her to be. It doesn't take her much more than a few seconds and a few well calculated jumps to sneak into the cracked stadium. She moved cautiously, with enough pace to avoid detection. Watching her step to avoid occupied corridors, she peeks over the area from above, a nice hidden place.

It's easy to spot him amidst the dull grey fallen debris. And the sight that greeted her widened her eyes.

He's still working? But why? Mission was over tomorrow? Right? He didn't have to come to the arena today.

Then bits of the conversation that she had heard and yet had oh so easily ignored flashed across her mind.

“Did you hear that?”

Sarada watched the two Chunin officials talking to each other as she passed by holding a large wooden beam for repairs.

“You're kidding, right? No way! He willingly offered himself for probation? This is crazy! Who does that?!”

“Yeah! My thoughts exactly!”

“Does Hokage-sama know about this?”

“I suppose not. I've also heard that he begged chief to not let it be known to him.”

So they were talking about him? Of course! And she had not even given it all a second thought. So he's been lying to everyone, again? How many times was he going to repeat this same stupidity?

She bit her lower lip harshly in order to contain the frustration and anger she felt at his betrayal. She knew he felt guilty for not only cheating but also for the damage that monster Momoshiki had caused to Konoha. And she wanted him to understand that it was not his fault. She had hoped, in vain, that he would understand that they're his teammates and he needed to share his problems with them. But no. His answer was a big fat NO again. And it hurt.

Tears pooled on the corner of her eyes and threatening to spill down. Sarada furiously swiped at them, the other hand gripping her glasses tightly. Grinding her teeth she immediately stood up, not wanting to stay here a minute now.

Why are you so stubborn? And stupid?

From here she can see a group of boys throwing stuff at him. He was able to dodge them without even sparing a glance but Sarada was sure that they were spewing out insults and enough venom to burn him down. Sarada wanted to intervene but she was not sure who she was struggling against.

Who was her opponent?

Boruto's own bullheadedness or the malice of people wanting to hurt him.

….

The sun was setting, painting the sky in brilliant shades of red, orange and pink. The birds that flew past appeared black against the colourful sky. And Naruto's short hair were able to resist the breeze unlike Sasuke's long locks which swayed to the rhythm of the wind.

“You are worried about him, aren't you?”

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

“Your troublemaking brat.”

The fond exasperation in Sasuke's voice made Naruto grin.

“Well, as you said, Sasuke, he is a troublemaker.”

“Wonder whom he got it from? Your wife probably? I remember her painting the Hokage rock with that disgusting shade of red all the time.”

A booming laugh echoed echoed through the balcony and slowly vanishing in the swirling air.

“Maybe you should give up being a shinobi and instead try your hand at comedy? Bet you'll be famous in no time! Especially when the Hokage himself would come to grace your shows.”

“No Naruto but thank you very much for the offer.”

Sarcasm dripped from every syllable that escaped from Sasuke's mouth and Naruto found himself leaning over the railing to control his laughter. But slowly he eased, all the worries rushing back in.

“I'm worried. Yeah you're right. He's becoming more like you with each passing day.”

Sasuke turned to give his friend a look but Naruto immediately backtracked.

“No! No! I'm not saying that it's a bad thing Sasuke! In fact, I think I'll be happy if I see my son becoming half a Shinobi like you! It's just…well, it's his habit of bottling up his feelings. He likes to hide his problems from his loved ones and it is scary. For me. A lot more than I wanna admit. I-I want him to share things with others. If not me then someone else! It's fine! It'll lessen his pain. But the possibility of him becoming anything like you - like wanting to bear all the pain and hatred all by himself is terrifying for me. Just like how now we have each other...I want him to have someone as well. Someone he could share his feelings with. Argh! It's damn hard to explain! Do you get it?!”

Sasuke snorts in amusement at Naruto's frustration but he understood it. He understood Naruto's anxiety for his child. He felt the same way for Sarada. To think that Sarada someday could end up pushing her loved ones away for the sake of pursuing her goal...is unthinkable.

“We're pathetic. Aren't we?”

Naruto's rueful chuckle made him shake his head and spare a glance. Sasuke noted how his eyes shined with worry and infinite love for his son and he smiled.

“We're just learning to be parents. No one told us that it was going to be this hard.”

“Excuses! Excuses!” Naruto grinned.

“Dobe, I'm trying to help you manage your guilt here. But what should I have expected? You’re too dumb to even realise that I'm wasting my precious time on you.”

“Dammit Teme! You wanna fight?!” Naruto yelled, swinging his fists in a motion to threaten him.

“You bet.” Sasuke smirked, unsheathing his Katana.

In midst of their stupid squabble which ended when Shikamaru paralyzed them with his shadow paralysis jutsu, Naruto said something to him which echoed inside his head for the entire day.

"I just want him to be happy and safe. That's all.”

And Sasuke wondered how the two of them who never looked eye to eye on any matter could agree with each other so vehemently on this particular subject.

Maybe it's a parent thing.

…

Every muscle in his body throbbed. His back hurt from lifting all the load and his injured hand couldn't stop shaking.

“Damn.”

A hiss escaped his lips as he lethargically made his way towards home. The battle with those boys who had harassed Sarada and his two hours of work in the probation period had taken a toll on his body. His blue eyes looked upward to the sky, dropping close more often than not. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

He almost passed by a dark alleyway when a shrill cry of a child stopped him dead in the tracks. He ducked in the darkness as fast as his legs could carry and the sight that greeted him burned him with fury.

A few teenagers, probably four to five years older than him held a child who was barely five by his neck. Laughing and mocking the frightened kid.

“Put him down!” Boruto screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the alley.

“Ohh? Who's that? Wait. Is that...Uzumaki Boruto? Oh, it's him! The savior! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” They sneered at him.

Now when they turned to him, Boruto immediately recognised them as the same gang of hooligans who were serving probation program alongside him. And of course, it was not the first time they had jeered at him. The scene of the frightened child looking up at him with a flicker of hope in his tear filled eyes twisted something in Boruto's gut.

“Put that kid down!” Boruto emphasized again and they laughed loudly again.

“Yeah? You want us to put that brat down?”

One of them smirked maliciously at him. “But we do need a toy to play with. It's a shame that the brat didn't have much money on him.”

Boruto gritted his teeth. Yes, he could fight but there was no guarantee of his winning in this condition. He was barely able to move his limbs. Fighting five criminal shinobi teenagers in a narrow space with a kid held hostage didn't seem like a good idea.

Suddenly a scream pierced through the area as the child was slammed into the wall harshly. Boruto panicked.

“Hey! Put him down please!”

“Surrender yourself then boy.”

“Fine! Just put him down!”

They threw the child across the floor and he immediately jumped and scrambled to the wall, sobbing and frightened. Boruto only took three steps when a sharp searing pain shot through his legs and he stumbled, falling on his knees. A needle was protruding through his thigh. As his frantic gaze flicked up, he spotted a gun like device in the hands of one of the guys.

“W-what the hell is that?” He croaked out, fear breaking his voice.

“You should know, right? It's a new ninja tech invention! After all, you used the one which didn't even come down on the market!” they jibed at him.

“What do you want with me?!” He questioned again, a little frightened.

“We wanna play with you. Boy, just that.”

It was the only warning he got before a kick was rammed into stomach. It hurt. The needle was definitely laced with some sort of limb numbing stuff. And sadly he couldn't move himself. He was thrown to a corner and rammed against the wall. He got a few more blows on his torso, hunching over.

“We're the same, aren't we?” One of them asked, leaning in close to him.

“W-what?” Boruto winced at the pain shooting up to his brain.

“You and us.” The guy gave him a dirty sneer and pointed out at him.

“No way! Never! I-I'll never be like you people! I'll never behave this despicably!”

Even the thought of being compared with these people made him sick to the stomach let alone being called similar. He is not a person to enjoy other's pains to satisfy his own sadistic tendencies. That is why he desperately denied all these baseless accusing.

“Oh yes, you'd rather degrade Konoha's reputation on an international stage. You'd rather call your father names in front of the great five nations. Then you'd rather hand over that monster an infinite source of power by discharging all those jutsus?”

Boruto shuddered because all of this was correct. He had done that, right?

“You gave him the strength to destroy. If not for the Hokage...then he would have massacred hundreds of people on the spot. How does that make you better ...or well, any less despicable than us?”

Each and every word spoken was a stab to his heart and Boruto felt all the fight leave his body. His fighting instincts slowly drained away until there was nothing left except for a mere shell of conscience. As the boy raised his arm to strike him again, Boruto braced himself for the pain. But instead of the sting that should have come he felt an incredible sense of dread. It seemed as if the temperature had dropped down a few degrees and air surrounding them felt cold with apprehension and blazing with hatred at the same time.

“Don't you dare touch him.”

Boruto eyes snapped at the sound of that frighteningly familiar yet so incredibly unrecognisable voice. It sounded so distant as if he had never heard it that voice his entire life despite being sure that yes, he had, everyday. He looked up and the sight made a shiver run down his spine.

She stood a top a building. The haunting silver moonlight illuminated her dark silhouette. Her glasses glinted with the eeriness of eyes which swirled in that fabled blood red glow and fury. And all he was able to was mutter out a whisper.

Sarada…?

The story wouldn't have been any fun without any climax right? Poor kids have to battle again! Huh. I'd love to know your thoughts about this chapter! Don't forget to comment! Have a good day everyone! ❤️❤️❤️

#borusara #borusarafics #boruto x sarada #boruto and sarada #boruto uzumaki #sarada uchiha #boruto #sarada #boruto naruto next generation #Naruto Uzumaki #Sasuke Uchiha #is she beautiful #adi writes

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crowkingwrites · 5 years

Text

Bang Bang!: Guilty (Ch.12)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: You are now a full-fledged member of the Red Kings. After your first successful mission, Domeric comes with troubling news: they’re being watched and there’s a mole among them. The Red Kings, Ramsay, and You now stand against a new enemy: Stannis Baratheon, a high ranking FBI member out to seek justice who may have his own dark secrets he’s trying to hide.

In this next part of the series, you will be tested, face old enemies, and encounter faces you’d thought you’d never see again. You thought you were safe, but the game has just begun.

Words: 2835 // Ao3 Link

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Out of all the places Ben could have sent you, he sent you here. To a house you have never seen before. To your own father. You watched your father’s face turn white from the shock. He grabbed onto the door to steady himself and cleared his throat.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked.

“It’s me, yeah.” You nodded your head. Your vision blurred from the tears that fell down your face. Strong arms pulled you in and hugged you tight. Relief and security washed over you as you buried yourself in your father’s chest. It had been too long. You thought nothing of it before, but now you felt too many emotions at once.

Guilt. Sadness. Anger. Confusion. Love. Curiosity. Anxiety. They came in waves and washed you ashore. You weren’t drowning in the Red Kings’ ocean anymore. You were safe in No Man’s Land with your father.

He pulled you inside from the cold and dark night. Inside, you saw a normal home. Television played late night news in the background of the living room. The dining room was covered in notes, old mail, and an unfinished game of chess. The kitchen’s lights turned on when your father stepped into it.

“Coffee. Do you want me to make you some coffee? Do you drink coffee?” he asked you. You nodded with enthusiasm as you wiped the tears from your face. He took another look at you, walked over to you, kissed your head, and walked back to the kitchen. You didn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen you in years.

A warm mug filled with cream, sugar, and local coffee tingled your hands. You took a long sip from it and faced your father. He had wrinkles in new places that you didn’t remember. Still the same old glasses. Still the same old white socks with a hole by the pinky toe. Both of you sat in silence waiting for the other to say something.

“How did you get here?” he asked you. You took a long and slow breath. Your story was first.

“I’m not sure how honest you want me to be with that,” you told him.

“Tell me,” he said. “You have no idea how many nights of sleep I’ve lost over you. I missed you. What happened?”

“I don’t think I need to tell you the obvious. Why I ran away,” you confessed. “Why I up and left you guys.”

“No,” your father shook his head in shame. “I know why. Where did you go?”

“I went to L.A. and then Vegas. And then New York. I went to a lot of places,” you explained. “Me and Kelly ran off to L.A. We got stupid jobs and then we— You swallowed hard. The memories were so long ago now. Four years could be a long time to some, but it still seemed so short to you. You remembered the wallpaper in that room. You remembered how unbothered Kelly was. You could hear Hugo’s voice speaking a different language. You remembered the gun that pointed at Kelly first.

Then you remembered Petyr’s hand reaching out to you. Saving you. How time flies.

“Go on,” your father leaned forward. “What happened in L.A.?”

“No, I-we went to Vegas. Kelly had a boyfriend named Hugo. He pimped us out to his friends and his people. Hugo took us into a room where a bunch of mob men played a secret poker game. Half of the room was filled with cigar smoke. All of them were really unhappy with him. So, they pulled out a gun and they—

Your voice trailed off. You bit your lip down hard.

“So, that’s what happened, hm?” your father said. “I remember Kelly’s body coming home to her parents. Your mother and I still lived next to them. We went to the funeral, but they never spoke of what happened. I always thought she overdosed from drugs. Murder. That’s…rough.”

You nodded your head and kept going. “I met a man. A powerful man that night. His name was Petyr Baelish. He took me in and made me his favorite.”

“Favorite? His mistress?”

“No, Petyr ran an escort business. We were called his pretty birds, and I was one of the favorites.”

Your father sat back. His hands ran down his face, digesting the story you told him. Most fathers would berate or punish their daughters for doing sex work. Your father closed his eyes and exhaled. The chair creaked when he left the seat and turned around. He reached for two glasses and an unopened bottle of whisky. He and poured the amber liquid into a glass in front of you and double for himself.

“Sex work. Gangs. Did you ever get arrested?”

“No.” you shook your head. “I was always careful. Petyr had the police in his pocket.”

“And how did you get here? Are you in trouble?”

You sighed. The weight of your story here got heavier with every question he asked. You looked away from him, contemplating what to say.

“Tell me, Y/N. I can protect you. I can help you. Let me help.”

“Dad, it’s not that simple. I got involved with the wrong kind of people.” “Yeah? Tell me who they are. I can take care of it.”

“No, no. Dad, you don’t understand. These people are fucking awful. They kill people every day. They don’t deal in drugs. They’re not a mob. They are assassins, Dad. If you go after them, you’re done.”

“Tell me who they are,” your father slowly blinked, completely unbothered by what you told him.

“Did you just hear anything I said?”

“I did. I am telling you that I can take care of it.”

You squinted at your father and scoffed. You huffed and stood up from the chair. You lifted your shirt and pointed to your left side. A large black tattoo peeked from your jeans.

“I’m one of them! They’re called the Red Kings. They are the underbelly’s assassins. They-they killed the Starks. That rich family? The ones who ran Winterfell Inc? They were responsible for the Red Wedding, Dad. You can’t fuck with these people!” You yelled at him. You felt tears tug at your eyes. One of them escaped down your cheek.

The chair creaked again as your father sat back. He made his amber liquid disappear and poured himself some more spirits. He started to laugh, but then he closed his mouth. He shook his head and looked back at you, smiling.

“You think this is funny?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t. You’ve been through a lot in the past five years since I’ve seen you. I’m sorry. I think it’s time I explain a couple of things to you.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you threw your arms in the air.

“Like how I knew your mother had been cheating on me since you were young,” your father chuckled. You felt yourself sink back into your seat, feeling dread creeping into your toes.

“You knew? You knew all long?”

Your mind flashed back to your tenth birthday. Lilly’s terrible singing voice shouted louder than everyone’s. Your Uncle took pictures of you with his expensive camera. You blew on your candles and wished your father was there.

It wasn’t until you looked to the right of you. You wished you didn’t see it.

Your mother’s arms were wrapped around another man’s. His mouth was on hers. They buried themselves into one another right in the next room. It seemed like you were the only one who saw. Then again, you knew adults to be deceitful maybe your Uncle ignored what was happening. The sight of it shocked you to the core, and your father told you that he knew. He knew all of this time.

“I did. Your mother and I didn’t get along too well. We tried hiding it from you, but…that didn’t work out now, did it?”

“You can’t be serious right now. How could you? How could you know and not do anything about it?”

“It was for the best. I caught her before we had you. After you, things changed.”

“What-I-what?” you reacted. “What else are you hiding from me?”

“Y/N, calm down.”

“No! What else are you hiding? Do you know how much that fucked me up? You go away on business trips all of the time. Mom brought over all of her boyfriends. One of them looked at me weird. And they would fuck. Mom always bought me shit to keep quiet. And here you are! You already knew! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/N, it’s not that simple.”

“Oh now, it’s not that simple. It was simple when I told you that I’m on the run from assassins, but now it’s not simple because you knew Mom was fucking other guys.”

Your father sighed and finished his second drink. It reminded you of your own You tossed it back and felt the burn in your throat. Fuck. Of all the shit your father hid from you, this one fucking hurt. You wanted to lose it.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“Too much,” your father confessed. A long sigh left his mouth as he looked down. It was his turn to be ashamed. “We hid too much from you. I kept telling your mother that. You were always a little too clever like me. What do you want to know?”

“Did you cheat on mom too? All of those business trips?”

“No. Never once,” your father shifted in his seat. “I loved your mother, but I also loved my job. Things changed when you came along. I wanted to be a real father. I wanted to be here as much as I could.”

“And yet, you were away so damn much.”

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter anymore.”

“You didn’t have a choice? That sounds like bullshit.”

“I know it does, but I need you to believe me,” your father pleaded with you. He ran his hand through his long hair. “I’ve lied to you about what I do for a living. I’m not a business man.”

“Oh?” you reacted, not at all surprised. Your father stood up and started to head towards the stairs. You followed him up as he spoke.

“When your mother and I started getting serious, she made me promise that I had to leave my past life. I wanted a family, but I wanted to keep my job. I love my job. Your mother didn’t think it would be safe for me to continue. So, we made a deal. I could keep my job, but I was to leave you out of it. I went on ‘business trips’ for my job, but that’s all I could tell you. That’s all I wanted to tell you. You got older, and I wanted to shelter you away from everything terrible in this world. I love you so much, and then that night happened.

“You came in from a party drunk out of your mind. I knew why. You were bored. School was too easy for you. You never made any friends except for next door Kelly. Small town life wasn’t for you. You needed more. I understood that, but your mother didn’t. You both screamed at each other for hours. I thought the police were going to get called, but then you left. You packed what you wanted and you left.”

“You didn’t stop me,” you said, tears tugging at your eyes. Both of you stopped in front of a room. The closed door had three locks on it.

“No, I didn’t. You were too clever for that place. You needed to see and experience the world on your own without your mother breathing down your back. That’s why we divorced four months after you left.”

You looked around. Of course, mom wasn’t here. The house was too still. No one was nagging.

“She fucked off and is probably travelling Europe with a fuck toy. I stayed here, moved North into this homestead. Figured no one from my family would bother me here. I’ve been here for a year and nothing’s happened until you knocked this evening. So, how did you find me?”

“I told you I was a part of the Red Kings. I got into trouble with them. My friend put me in a car with a lot of cash and gave me this address. I didn’t know what would be here. He only told me that this was a safe place for me.”

“Which friend?” your father asked.

“You wouldn’t know him.”

“Try me.”

You chuckled at your father’s stubborn attitude. He would say that about every boy you were interested in. He would know their name, their parents, where he lived, etc. You shook your head again. “I told you. You wouldn’t know him. He’s an assassin.”

Your father sighed and pulled up the left side of his shirt. You saw the same black ‘X’ tattoo in the same placement as yours. You felt your whole body freeze and your mind go numb. Words could not express how you felt.

“I told you, kiddo. I’m not a business man like you thought I was. I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve introduced you to the family business like most fathers did. I’m a Red King just like you. Now you know.”

You sat down with your eyes wide. Everything made sense. The frequent ‘business trips’ your father took. The secretive lies your family had to tell everyone. Why your family lived in a small town and you grew up knowing nothing about the world. And now here you were, the apple doesn’t fall from the tree.

“How? What?”

“I was a lot like you when I was younger,” your father started. “I was bored. I was too damn clever. I made friends with the wrong kind of people because I was the wrong kind of person. I joined the Red Kings knowing what exactly we were: assassins. I doubt you’ve met him in person, but Roose Bolton, the head of the Red Kings, is my best friend.”

“Roose Bolton is your best friend?”

Your father nodded and laughed. “I was one of the first Red Kings. I liked what I did a lot. He gave me all of the best assignments. He was saddened that I didn’t want you to be a part of it all. But, the boys and I had a great time. We still do.” Your father pulled out a photo album from the mess on the table. Inside, your mother complied all of the pictures she had before you were born. You saw young Roose and your father standing side by side with beers in hand. You couldn’t see their Red King tattoos, but you saw how happy they both were. You’d never seen Roose smiling now like he did in that picture.

In the corner, you spotted a handwritten note: Bolton and Locke. 1970s. Whore’s Foot. New Years Eve.

“Do you and Roose still talk?” You stared at the picture, not sure what was real and what was a lie.

“Yes, I’m still an active member. I know what’s going on. Damn Stannis is breathing down our backs. That’s partially why I’m here. Laying low was the best option for all of us old goats. Do you believe me now? About everything?”

You nodded your head and turned away from the photo album. You look around the room, trying to connect your thoughts into what you could say next.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I had planned to, but you ran off before I was ready to tell you,” your father laughed. “And I see karma slapped me in the face for it. How did you join? Did Petyr Baelish introduce you to the Red Kings?”

“He did, actually.” You started. “They came to us after the Red Wedding. I met Roose and all. Then, I fell in love with a Red King. It was wild and fun for a while until now. Everything’s gone to shit.”

“And the Red King? Did he fuck up?”

“No, I did. I messed up and he threw me out. He threatened me.” You said. Your father’s knuckles cracked. Your saw his shoulders tense up and his nostrils flared.

“Threatened you? How? Who is he?”

You swallowed hard. “Dad, I-I’m not sure if you want to know. I mean, you said Roose was your best friend and—

“Stop dodging the question. Which Red king threatened you? Who threw you out into the cold?”

“Ramsay Bolton,” you confessed. “I’m in love with Ramsay Bolton. We’ve been dating for about a year, but I think its over now, He doesn’t want me anymore.”

“Ramsay? Roose’s youngest son, Ramsay Bolton?” His voice lowered to a growl. His fists clenched at his sides. “I taught that boy everything he knows. I put a gun in his hand. Now, I’m gonna put one to his fucking head.”

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bastardnev · 6 years

Text

That Guy Next Door Ch. 16 (Final)

HHHHHHHHHHHooooookay i honestly can’t believe that we’re up to the Last Chapter Of This Fic. like i deadass cannot believe how quickly this all went

before i get into my usual Spiel i just wanted to say thanks real quick to everyone that’s read the fic up till this point. it means so much to me that ppl have been enjoyin it ❤️❤️❤️ (and i also wanna thank the ppl on mobile that are Not interested who’ve scrolled past each chapter on the off chance that the read more didn’t work dkjfgfjk)

WITH ALL THAT BEIN SAID:

tagging: @tylerblacks @joonhobi @rivela @aliciasfox @sailor-slam-dunk@kidvoodoo @smolsammichu @simulated-heat @douglas-leon-michael@1dluver13xx (lemme know if you wanna be added to my tag list!!)

Prev.: Ch. 1 ♡ Ch. 2 ♡ Ch. 3 ♡ Ch. 4 ♡ Ch. 5 ♡ Ch. 6 ♡ Ch. 7 ♡ Ch. 8 ♡ Ch. 9 ♡ Ch. 10 ♡ Ch. 11 ♡ Ch. 12 ♡ Ch. 13 ♡ Ch. 14 ♡ Ch. 15 ♡

Neville and Mustafa had been discussing their anniversary plans for a little while now, but that didn’t mean that the former was any less nervous when the big day finally arrived.

If anything, his knowledge of the conversation that they would be having was making him even more nervous. Far more than he probably should be, considering that this was supposed to be a fun day. Where he didn’t have to worry about anything.

Least of all inadvertently scaring Mustafa away, or freaking him out.

All that he needed to do was stick to his little plan, and everything should be fine. He’d been going over it in his mind for what felt like ages now. He knew what he was going to say, and he’d practiced it so many times that he’d lost count. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

He hoped.

The day was set to go according to the following itinerary: First, Neville would spend a good part of his morning making proper preparations. Everything needed to be just right, straight down to his outfit. (Wade had made a comment the other day about Neville most likely dressing as a dork on his anniversary. The spiteful side of Neville was determined to prove him wrong.) Then, later that evening, Mustafa would meet up with Neville at his house and have dinner with him and the rest of the family -- something that he admittedly was unsure about. Their initial plan had been to go out someplace to eat (Neville was far more fond of fancy restaurants when it wasn’t a tacky, love-centered national holiday), but it turned out that Jen and Daisy had different plans for the two of them.

After having planned it out for weeks -- apparently that was what they had been talking about during the nights when they’d stayed up way past their bedtimes -- they insisted that, seeing as it was such a big day, they wanted to do all the cooking. It was their anniversary, so why should they have to pay their hard-earned money to eat out someplace? (Neville wanted to say something about how he was the one that paid for the ingredients that they would be using to cook, but he kept that part to himself.)

And besides, Jen was on a mission to prove that she was almost an adult (“I’m almost eleven. Eleven! That’s two ones! Not one, two!”) and could handle such a lofty task. Neville knew damn well that when she got in one of these “grown-up” modes, it was difficult to get her out of it. It was better to just let her do as she pleased. Daisy, on the other hand, was primarily going along with it just so that Jen wouldn’t be the only one getting all the attention. All-in-all, it was business as usual with them.

Neville had at first been skeptical of their idea, as leaving a couple of children in charge of cooking an entire meal was risky for many reasons -- the main one being that he wasn’t in the mood to put out any fires that evening. That, and he was in a way looking forward to going out with Mustafa so they could have some time to themselves. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his family -- he just believed that a couple should be able to have some private time on a night that was so important to them.

They managed to wear him down enough with their begging, however, and he figured that if he could convince Wade to lend them a hand then there was nothing to worry about. There would be some form of adult supervision -- much to Jen’s annoyance, but to Neville’s relief. And, he had to admit, he was curious to see what they would come up with. Their cooking skills were very limited, and as such so was the menu. Though he was predicting disaster, part of Neville wanted to see how this would all play out.

As such, one conversation with Mustafa later, it was officially decided that their anniversary would be spent at home with those closest to them. “Let’s hope we don’t end up getting food poisoning from this, though,” Neville added.

“If we do, then it’ll definitely be a night we don’t forget, right?” Mustafa replied with a little chuckle -- a nervous one, Neville had noted.

Of course, because nothing in Neville’s life could ever be simple, there was plenty of discourse over what exactly would be made. Neither he nor Mustafa really minded and had no real preference, but it had become a big argument starter with the children -- much like everything these days, now that he gave it some thought. Neville had received far more phone calls from home while he was at work than he’d have liked to, each one giving him a mini-heart attack and leading him to think that there was an emergency going on that required his attention.

But no, it was usually just Jen, insisting that Daisy was ‘abusing her power’ that she supposedly had by being the younger sibling, and she was trying to dictate what was cooked.

The truth was, she’d just said that she didn’t like green beans, and Jen took this as a personal attack.

From the moment that he’d woken up on the morning of the anniversary, Neville had had an odd feeling in his stomach. For the last couple of days he had been planning out exactly what he was going to say and when he would say it, so as to avoid being interrupted like he always seemed to be. Be it by adults, children, or birds, someone or something always took issue with him trying to have serious conversations.

Not this time.

Not when it’s this important.

Checking his phone after he’d rolled out of bed, Neville saw that Mustafa had already sent him a few texts, and he smiled at the sheer amount of heart emojis that were sent along as the final message.

Resident Bear Fanatic: Happy anniversary!!

Resident Bear Fanatic: I love youuuuu

Me: Someone’s excited :)

Me: Happy anniversary to you too, Moose. I love you + I’ll see you later xx

Taking a page out of Mustafa’s book, Neville also sent an entirely heart filled message, sending it off while a little voice in the back of his mind chastised him for it. He’d never been one to overuse emojis and preferred to use his words to communicate what he wanted to say, but Mustafa was a huge fan of the little things. Every conversation they had ended with some kind of emoji, even if it didn’t exactly fit what they were talking about. Mustafa was the only one who could get Neville to start over-sending them.

Man, Wade was right.

I really am head over heels for him.

Any hopes Neville had had for a quiet morning were dashed when he exited his bedroom and immediately heard the sounds of an argument brewing down in the kitchen. He didn’t think that the little chefs would be awake this early. Letting out a sigh, he made his way over the the stairs, Jen’s voice growing louder with every step he took. He could have easily just turned around and gone back into his room, but he knew he couldn’t leave Wade to deal with this fight all by himself. They’ll maul him. Again.

“She doesn’t like anything I wanna make!” He heard Jen yell, and he stopped to listen for a moment, sitting on the bottom-most step. “She’s only here to spite me!”

“Jen, be reasonable.” The next voice he heard was Wade’s. “Just because she doesn’t like something, that doesn’t mean she’s out to spite you.”

Wade clearly doesn’t know Daisy as well as he thinks he does. Neville mused to himself before going back to listening.

“But she conveniently hates everything that I suggest. I bet you could say the same thing as me, and she’d like it.”

“How do you know that?”

“When she wakes up, ask her if she wants to make a salad. Go ahead, I dare you.”

When she wakes up? Neville could have sworn she was already awake. Then again, if she had been awake, she’d probably be defending herself right about now. Neville had to wonder if Jen was up this early to make some sort of secret preparations so that her sister didn’t try to intervene for once.

“Alright, enough of the dares,” Neville finally spoke up, standing and entering the kitchen. “There’s no need to be fighting this much over dinner. There has to be something that you and Daisy can agree on.”

“I’m trying to find out what that is, but she’s being so difficult!” Jen insisted, crossing her arms and pouting. “She just says no to everything. She’s so immature. She’s almost an adult now.”

“Jen, she’s seven.” Her birthday had only passed a few weeks ago. She’d made almost as big of a deal about it as Jen did when she turned ten -- she’d even told Mustafa that she was ‘everyone’s lucky charm’. “I get that it can be frustrating, but you gotta remember that she’s still a kid. Be patient with her.”

“She needs to grow up already! I wasn’t like that when I was her age.”

Neville couldn’t help but give her a look that said, “Really?” at that little comment. Neville could recall many instances of her being intentionally difficult when she was Daisy’s age, but he kept that to himself, instead saying, “Try to work something out with her, please? Fighting solves nothing.”

“I’ll try…”

“Good.” He gave her a kiss on top of her head. “And I don’t want youse fighting when Mustafa comes over later.”

“Tell that to her.”

“I’ll tell her, and I’ll tell you again, too. We all need to be clear on that.” He pointed to Wade. “You, too.”

“What?” Wade was aghast. “What did I do to deserve a talking to? I’m just standin’ here.”

“Gee, I dunno, Mr. Interrogator. What did you do?”

As he finished saying this, Daisy came down the stairs and entered the room, looking groggy, still in her star-studded pajamas. “Mornin’, kiddo,” Neville greeted, ruffling her already messy hair. “You’re up early. Sleep well?”

“Mm…” She replied, leaning up against him.

“Got a big day ahead of you, don’t you? You all ready for tonight?”

“Hmm…” She nuzzled her face into his side, and he gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Neville said this while keeping an eye on Wade, who now had a look on his face. Like he was just dying to ask something.

“So, kid…” He started. “I was just wondering -- did you and Jen decide on what you were gonna make tonight?” At her lazy shrug, he continued, “Have you considered… salad?”

Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she looked more awake. “That’s a great idea!!”

Neville didn’t say anything to this. Instead, upon hearing Jen’s sharp inhale, he braced himself for round two of the morning fight. And he wonders why he needs to be spoken to about being on his best behavior…

Throughout the day, Neville couldn’t help but get a sense of deja vu.

As he went through the motions of the day, he got the feeling that he’d done all of this before -- not in the sense that this was his typical weekend routine and he was used to it, but that every single thing he did was something he’d done one other time before.

Specifically, the first time that Mustafa came over to dinner.

Just as he’d done the first time and as he’d promised to do that morning, he’d spoken to the everyone about how they should be conducting themselves that evening. Jen and Daisy were still fighting literally right up until they’d been sat down on the couch. And likewise, everyone had also given the same response that they had last time -- they swore they’d be on their best behavior, and they promised that there wouldn’t be any arguments (or, in Wade’s case, impromptu interrogations) while Mustafa was visiting. They all wanted this night to go smoothly, and they wanted to make sure Neville and Mustafa had the best night possible.

And of course, just like before, they hadn’t stayed true to their word.

Neville wasn’t sure what he was expected.

Mustafa had barely been in the house for a few moments before Wade led him over to the couch, making casual conversation about this and that before launching into his latest cross-examination. Previously, he had been asking him about if he were truly fit to be dating Neville, but since the two had been together for quite literally a year at this point he had to come up with new questions, each one increasing in terms of ridiculousness.

“Is ‘Mustafa’ really your name?”

“It’s you guys’ one year anniversary? Are you positive it’s only been a year? Because I’m suspicious of that.”

“How old am I?” (“Wade, that has nothing to do with him! Why are you even asking that?” Neville protested.)

All Neville was able to do while this ridiculous questioning was going on was stand back and watch, growing more and more humiliated with each passing moment. Mustafa didn’t seem to mind -- in fact, he was joking around with Wade, apparently enjoying it and even firing back with a few questions of his own -- but that didn’t make Neville feel any better. Why is it that whenever I tell Wade to do something, he does the exact opposite? Once again, Neville was reminded of Wade’s reaction upon being told to act appropriately. He truly was genuinely shocked.

Neville had actually gotten the feeling that the girls were trying to keep their promise to him, but that was proving to be too difficult. In the end, they’d decided on an entirely vegetarian dinner (secretly to Neville’s relief, as he would admittedly be a little afraid to eat any meat they may have cooked -- or undercooked, for that matter). This didn’t appear like it would cause any controversy, and for awhile it didn’t. There was good food, good conversation, and it looked like it would be a good night as well.

That is, until Jen decided to bring up how difficult Daisy had been throughout the whole process.

“It was fun, but… I ended up doing most of the work,” she’d said, shooting a glaring her sister’s way. “Since someone didn’t want to be a team player.”

“Jen…” Neville said as a warning, but he knew it was already too late. Nothing he said was going to work. At least he tried.

“I was a team player!” Daisy insisted, forking clanging on the table as she tossed it down, causing everyone to jump. “Daddy, wasn’t I a team player?”

“Please just stop fighting…” As futile as it was, he was still trying to diffuse the situation. On a day as important to him and Mustafa as this, were they really about to see an all-out war? He looked at Mustafa apologetically, as he was about to witness his first real fight between the siblings.

“It took Wade suggesting that we make something just to get you to agree!”

“Woah, don’t bring my name into this,” Wade said in his own defense. “I’m just an innocent bystander!”

“But I’m not wrong! I told you that she’s always trying to go against me, and I proved it! I don’t get why no one will believe me!”

“Because you are wrong!” Daisy yelled. “I’m good!”

“You are not! If you’re so good, then why didn’t you help? You mostly just sat back and made me do all the work.”

“Because you wanted me to. You never asked me for help because you wanted to show you’re a grown-up!”

“Ladies, we had this discussion earlier, can we please drop it?” Neville rose his voice and attempted to speak over their yelling, but that didn’t work, and the fight continued.

Suddenly, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he looked at Mustafa. “You want me to help you out?” He asked. “I can take care of this.”

“Can you?”

“You’re forgetting that I’m breaking up fights between little kids on an almost daily basis whenever I’m at work. Trust me, I got this.”

Neville frowned, but he shrugged, figuring that he may as well give him a shot. He was desperate to get this fight to end, he’d try anything. “Go ahead.”

“I’m so sick of you!” Jen yelled, her face now red with anger. “You’re so lazy, it’s unreal! You’re borderline useless--”

“Jennifer.”

The next voice to enter the phrase was Mustafa’s, and both Neville and Wade looked at each other, stunned that the first thing he’d chosen to say was her full first name. She hadn’t been in this much trouble in ages, and the fact that Mustafa of all people was the one that said it made everything even more startling.

Jen stammered, finally now realizing that she was in big trouble for causing such a scene. “But I-- She-- It’s her fault-- You!!”

“What about me?”

“You!! Stay out of this! Don’t butt in!”

Now Neville had to say something. “Jennifer, don’t talk to him like that. That’s disrespectful.”

“He--”

“Jen,” Mustafa started. “Drop the subject.”

“But--”

“Drop. The. Subject.”

Jen had clearly had enough, and she stood up, chair nearly falling over from the force. She stormed out of the room, angry footsteps dissipating as she went up to her room. Neville sighed when he heard the door slam. “Jesus…”

Daisy hadn’t said anything since Mustafa joined the conversation, and she looked torn on whether to be upset at what happened or gleeful that Jen had been told off. Eventually, she settled on the latter, but this didn’t sit well with Mustafa either -- though he was far calmer now. “Daisy, you should’ve ignored her,” he said.

“Why’m I getting yelled at? She started it…” She moped.

“You’re not getting yelled at. I know she started it. You’re not in any trouble. But from now on, just ignore her when she tries to pick a fight over something like that, okay?”

She was still unhappy that she was spoken to, but she nodded, slumping back in her chair and going back to eating. Mustafa let out a breath, and he looked to Neville, giving him a nod of his own. “It’s handled,” he said.

“I…” Neville was still in awe. “I didn’t think you’d actually step in there like that. I’m impressed.”

“Got it down to a science.” With that, Mustafa went back to eating as well -- but it was obvious that his enthusiasm wasn’t there anymore. Neville figured that it was safe to assume he’d had enough of this family for one evening.

Suddenly, he’d lost his appetite.

“I’m just… so fucking sorry.” Neville said when he and Mustafa escaped outside to the porch following dinner -- he hadn’t even meant to swear, but he was so frustrated with how the night turned out. “I tried to talk to them before you came over, and they said they’d behave, but… God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you had no way of knowing that was gonna happen,” Mustafa replied, sounding disappointed. Neville’s heart sank. Everything that he’d been planning to do that night, what he’d been planning on asking Mustafa when all was said and done -- could he even do that anymore? The mood was sour, and when they looked back on their first anniversary all they would remember was the fight that interrupted dinner.

Fuck. Me.

“I should’ve known,” Neville argued. “They’d been fighting for the last couple of days over what to make, and they were even fighting this morning. I should’ve known that they were gonna get into another argument. All they do is fight nowadays…”

“Well… If I were you, I still wouldn’t blame yourself. You did everything right. In the end, they’re two young girls who spend a lot of time together. Too much togetherness is bound to cause problems like this. It happens. It’s no biggie.”

“I still feel so bad. Why didn’t we agree to go out someplace instead… That’s what you wanted to do, right?”

“I… Well, yeah, I kinda did.” Mustafa shrugged. “I didn’t say anything before, but I was hoping that’s what we’d end up doing. I didn’t wanna hurt the girls’ feelings, though. But, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Can’t change the past.”

“God… Again, I’m sorry.” Neville sat down on the front step, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his face in his hands.

Mustafa sat down next to him. “Hey, chin up. Technically there isn’t any law that says we can’t still go out somewhere to celebrate. Not everyone goes out for anniversary dinner the day of -- sometimes they have to wait until they have time.”

“That’s true.” Neville recalled not only his parents, but also him and Marina doing the same thing in the past. “So you’re saying we should go out sometime soon?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He smooched Neville’s cheek. “We’ve earned it. Especially after tonight. Take two, next weekend. Just us.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A cool September evening breeze blew, and Neville scooted closer to Mustafa, the latter resting his head on Neville’s shoulder. Though the night had been hectic, at least they had this moment to themselves. So long as it stayed like this, then maybe Neville might have a chance…

“I mean, hey,” Mustafa started with a small chuckle, interrupting the silence, “sooner or later we can look back and laugh at all of this. And by the time our second anniversary rolls around, this’ll just be a distant memory, ya feel? Something we can all joke about.”

“Second?” Neville grinned. “You’re already thinking that far ahead?”

“Would you rather I said ‘tenth’ instead?” He winked. “Because I can easily see us having a tenth.”

“Damn, and here I was worried that you were pissed at me after what happened.”

“Never!” Mustafa waved his hand. “Your family is… something, but I love them. And I love you. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a sibling rivalry to get me to leave you, Nev.”

Neville felt warm inside. “I’m glad. And I love you too.”

Mustafa took Neville’s hand, gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “Man, it really has been a whole year, huh? It honestly doesn’t feel like it..”

“Right? I still remember when Jen threw that ball over your fence.”

“And you came over to come get it. You got all tongue tied.”

“I was a mess. I wasn’t expecting this to answer the door.” He gestured in Mustafa’s direction, making him laugh. “I thought some angry old man had moved in.”

“I’m not angry, but I am old, so you’re not exactly far off there.”

“You are not old.” Neville shoved him. “We’re the same age -- if you’re old, what’s that make me?”

“You’re younger than me! You’re a spring chicken. I’m ancient.”

“I’m younger than you by, what, five months? That’s nothing. Neither of us are old.”

“...Man, you were so cute on that day, though. And when I found out that you were single, I instantly knew I had to ask you out.”

“Even though I never actually told you I was into guys before you asked.”

At that Mustafa, put a hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Nev. Trust me on this one. I knew.”

Neville snorted. “Alright. But then Wade interrupted you right as you were about to ask…” Neville grumbled. Wade’s poor timing would be the death of him -- he was surprised he hadn’t come out to join them yet. There was still time.

“That sucked, but I did get to ask you eventually. And you did say yes.”

“And thank the Lord I did.” Neville squeezed his hand. “I know I told you all this before, Moose, but you’re the first guy I’ve really… dated since my split. The date we went on was the first time I’d gone out with someone in years. You truly did help me to rediscover how amazing it feels to love someone.”

Mustafa smiled. “I’m so glad I could do that for you.”

“I really wasn’t sure if I’d ever love anyone again after getting divorced. Not many people want to date a single parent -- they don’t want to have to deal with the children. And I was so sure I’d already met The One, I didn’t think I’d ever feel so strongly for another person. You make me so happy.”

“Aww, Nev, you’re such a softie.”

“I really am, aren’t I?” He swallowed. “And you’ve made the girls so much happier, too. I know what happened tonight was bad, but I’ve seen the way they both interact with you. I remember being so concerned after the split that they’d start to resent me for it -- they were young, but not young enough to have no idea what had happened.”

“Do you still think that way?”

“Not really. Even if I didn’t think that they resented me, things had definitely changed. Especially after Marina moved and she couldn’t come to visit them anymore, or take them out on little day trips. But ever since I’ve gotten with you and you’ve started to hang out with them, they’ve changed. Fighting notwithstanding, they’re so much happier. I really can’t thank you enough for that, Mustafa. Thank you for making my girls so happy.”

“Geez, Nev, you’re turning me into a softie now…” Mustafa laughed. “You have too much power.”

This is it. Just do it.

“...Moose, I… I gotta ask you something.” Neville started, tone more serious. “And you don’t have to answer right now if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, but I have to ask.”

Mustafa’s eyebrows rose, and it looked like there were a million different thoughts running through his mind. His boyfriend wanted to ask him a question on their anniversary? Right after they’d had a discussion like that? It was cute watching him try to figure out what Neville was going to ask. “W-What’s up, Nev?”

“Moose, would you…” He took a deep breath. “Would you… be interested in maybe moving in with us?”

The smile on Mustafa’s face grew even wider. “You want me to move in with you?”

“It doesn’t have to be tonight or anything. It can literally be whenever you want -- or, if you don’t want to at all, then that’s okay, too. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

Mustafa didn’t say anything for a moment. He was thinking again, licking his lower lip and letting out an awed chuckle. “Wow,” he finally said. “That’s… not what I expected to hear this evening.”

“Caught you off guard, didn’t I?”

“Would I be able to ask you a question of my own, Nev?”

“And now you’ve caught me off guard,” Neville joked. What was this about? “Go ahead.”

“Well… This is just from what I’ve heard, but… typically, when couples start talking about moving in with one another, that usually means that… y’know, marriage is on their minds.”

“...Oh?”

“Hence why I’m now wondering… Have you been thinking about it?”

Neville looked up at the sky, watching an airplane fly overhead. “I won’t lie, it’s definitely crossed my mind once or twice. Maybe three times. Or, four times. I think you catch my drift here.” He quirked his eyebrows up at him. “I guess you could say that I wanna marry you.”

“...And I guess you could say that I wanna marry you.”

Neville hadn’t done anything even remotely athletic in ages, but he truly did feel like he could start doing backflips after hearing Mustafa say that.

“But… maybe not any time soon, though?” Mustafa continued. “Weddings are super expensive. Not sure if I’m ready to put myself through all that planning just yet.”

“Neither am I,” Neville agreed.

“And besides, I want there to be a real engagement.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Moose. I’ll surprise you good.”

“...Who said that you’ll be doing the proposing?” He narrowed his gaze at Neville, who mirrored his expression.

“I see how it’s gonna be…” Neither one of them could keep this staredown up for any longer than a few more seconds before they both went back to grinning. “We can put that off for now. So… about that moving in thing that I mentioned before…”

Mustafa giggled. “I didn’t forget, don’t worry.” He took both of Neville’s hands. “The answer to that question is ‘yes’. Of course I’ll move in with you guys.”

Neville didn’t reply to that. Instead, he leaned in to kiss Mustafa, feeling more love for him in that moment than he ever had up until that point. After so much doubt, so much worrying, and so many nights of laying awake telling himself that no one would want to date him because ‘no one wants a single dad’ -- he could put all of that to rest.

Finally.

It was when they heard the sound of the front door cracking open that they pulled away, and they spotted Daisy peeking at them. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape, like she’d just witnessed something that she wasn’t meant to see. “You good, kiddo?” Neville asked as she opened the door a little wider.

“Ah… Ah?” She breathed out, looking between the two of them. “You?”

“Is… everything alright?” Mustafa asked.

“He…” She looked to Neville, pointing at Mustafa. “He said yes? You asked him, and he said yes?”

“Wha?” Neville was confused -- did she not hear the part where he said that he’d move in? What did she think Mustafa agreed to?

“He said yes…” After muttering this, she suddenly spun on her heel, bursting back into the house. “He said yes!! They’re getting married!! It’s happening!!”

“Oh my God…” Neville put his face in his hands, the next thing he heard being Mustafa’s laugh. “It’s like she conveniently ignored what the question I asked you was.”

“All she needed to hear was me saying yes.” Mustafa patted Neville on the arm. Neville looked up, seeing the happy expression on his face. When Mustafa was reacting like that, how could he possibly be embarrassed?

And he looked over towards the open door, staring off in the direction that Daisy had run in. Faintly, he could hear her trying to explain to Wade that this was for real this time -- not a false alarm, but the real deal! It was totally a proposal! They really were getting married!

Maybe we are, Daze.

Maybe we are.

#mustafa ali #neville #adrian neville #mustafa x neville #long post #SUUUUPER long post #wwe fanfiction #hhhhhhh #jess.txt

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vol-ia · 6 years

Text

The Incident

A Perfect Spell story about Mori having to pick Chris up from school for getting into a fight! You’ve heard of mama bear, now get ready for papa kitsune.

Word count: 1598. PG: implied violence, implied animal cruelty.

Other Perfect Spell stories: https://vol-ia.tumblr.com/post/164697611963/philomela

https://vol-ia.tumblr.com/post/166005091008/write-tober-2

Mori walked up to the administration desk. Nobody seemed to notice.

In a way, it was kind of nice. After so many centuries of upheaval and effort, to have a kitsune be gently ignored in a busy office was something of a milestone. In another, much more present way, it was deeply inconvenient and needed to stop right now.

He gently cleared his throat, leaning in through the window and glancing around for the least busy looking person.

“Yes, hello! I am sorry to interrupt you but I was instructed to come and collect my son?”

***

Mori found Chris sitting in the waiting room outside the principal’s office. He looked sullen and withdrawn, and was clutching a cardboard box. He was dirty, his hands and uniform both stained, and he had dried blood on his fur around his nose.

He heard Mori come in, and looked up at him with wide, watery eyes.

Elise was much better at this sort of thing, but they’d called him, so he would have to do.

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

“Okay. I will speak to the principal and then we will go home.”

“Okay.”

Mori took a deep breath, wishing that none of this was happening. “I understand there was another boy involved?”

“It was Lewis.”

Ah. The Bennet family.

“I take it that Mrs. Bennet is currently speaking with the principal, then.”

“She wants them to expel me.”

“I expect she wants a great many things. I will be back shortly.”

Mori practiced his long trained sense of self control, forcing his tail to not swish back and forth as he straightened up. He could hear two voices on the other side of the door, now that he noticed it, one exercising a soothing, practiced calm, and the other, shrill. He took a deep breath, and stepped forward to open the door.

***

“We were all offered, assurances, that the little animal would not be dangerous!” She glanced at Mori when she spat the word, a poisonous look.

“This ‘little animal’ you are referring to would be my son, yes?” Mori interjected, trying not to growl. It made humans nervous when he growled.

“Yes! Lewis has a black eye, a sprained wrist, and bruises all over, and photos day is next week! And it’s all because your feral brat attacked him, unprovoked!”

“Mrs. Bennet,” The principal interrupted, “According to everyone involved but your son, that is clearly not the case.”

“...Are you suggesting that my precious boy is a liar?! I’ll have you fired for defending that animal, you and the whole faculty!”

“Please refrain from shouting, or using slurs. We’re all adults, madam.” The principal had interjected on his behalf, but Mori could feel his eye starting to twitch.

“I’ll say whatever I damn well like! You and this school and this whole damn town are in the pocket of this fox family and don’t think for a minute that I’ll let you get away with sweeping this incident under the rug!”

“The school has a series of rules and procedures for dealing with schoolyard violence. Unfortunately, it is a thing that comes up from time to time when you keep a thousand teenagers in the same building every day. We will be following those procedures to the letter with regards to this incident, and if you are dissatisfied with our conduct, you are of course more, than welcome to raise a complaint with the board of education.”

“Don’t think that I won’t! Lewis could have been killed! That freak out there needs to learn self control, or he should be made to be leashed and muzzled like the rabid dog he is!”

The principal’s mouth tightened. Mori understood that he and Chris were on very friendly terms. Chris had a solid rapport with most adults. Mori spoke first, saving him the hassle of trying to reason with the woman.

“Mrs… Bennet. Just to be sure, you are accusing my son of losing control and attacking your son in something like a blind, ‘feral’ rage, correct?”

“Yes!” She opened her mouth to complain more, but Mori continued.

“Did you know?” Mori clicked his fingers, causing a small flame to spark up at the tips. The woman gasped. “Kitsune are born into a knowing of fire.”

“F-... D-don’t you threaten me!”

“I am not threatening you, I am just teaching you about my species, in an attempt to clarify a miscommunication. Do you agree?” Mori motioned to the principal, who had leant back slightly in his chair.

“...Of course.”

“But-!”

The flame on Mori’s fingertips flared, causing the woman to gasp and fall silent. After a moment, Mori continued.

“Often, my kind cast our first spell of fire before we can see properly. Long before we can talk. We learn the language of fire first, and see our own light before we ever see the light of the sun. For many of my kind, fire comes easier than speech, easier than thought. Maybe too easily.”

Mori juggled the flame from fingertip to fingertip, playing with it as he had so often in his youth.

“It is, perhaps, a failing of my species that we tend to solve so many of our problems with fire. But, you probably understand, when it’s what you know best… Well, they say here, that when all that you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail, yes?”

The flame grew, engulfing Mori’s hand. It was cool against his fur, although he knew the heat it was projecting would be singeing the eyebrows of the woman sitting next to him.

“And you mean to suggest that my son lacks self control? If he was truly the wild beast that you delight in suggesting he is, well…”

Mori snuffed the flame out.

“Your son would be dead.”

There was complete silence in the room. Mori clapped his hands together, popping the bubble, making an effort to force some cheer into his voice.

“It is fortunate for us all that you are as wrong as you are unpleasant to talk to. Now, if there’s nothing else, I understand that my son is to be sent home early today?”

***

“Omae wa hontou ni taido ga warui na…” Mori muttered to himself as he pulled the door shut behind him. Some people, honestly.

Not so long ago, dealing with belligerent people had much less civil and a lot more straightforward. Clearly, the present was better than the past and its violence, but sometimes, Mori found himself wistfully reminiscing about the good old days, back in the 1600’s when he’d been young and strong and nobody in their right mind dared to talk back at him about whatever inane garbage was polluting their minds.

Sometimes, the weight of centuries was very heavy indeed.

Still, there were reasons to remain here, in the present. Mori crouched down, touching Chris gently on the shoulder, startling him out of whatever trance he had been in.

“Ready to go?”

“I… Will they let me back?”

“Based off of the accounts of everyone involved, it has been determined that you will not be expelled. You and Lewis both will be punished for getting into a fight, although if it’s any consolation, he has been suspended for a week and you have only been suspended for the rest of today and tomorrow.”

Chris whined, cringing down in his chair, clearly more focused on the suspension than the leniency. Mori could barely stand to see his son so upset. There would be plenty of time for holding him later, once he was home and away from this place.

“D-do you think the witches’ association will want me still if I’ve got a record?”

“That is what y-?” Mori stopped himself. “...From what I’ve gleaned, they consider multiple childhood misdemeanors to be a requirement for entry.”

“Oh.” Chris looked back down at the box he was cradling. Right. The box.

“This… This would be the bird that was mentioned, yes?”

“Yeah. They were gonna just… Throw it out, like it was trash. It was alive, this morning.”

He sounded so small and fragile as he said it.

“We can give it rites and lay it to rest in the garden. I’m sure that will appease the bird’s soul.”

Mori heard a tiny sound. There was a small wet spot on the box.

“If I’d… If I’d done something sooner, t-then maybe it might still be alive.” Chris’s voice cracked, raw with sadness. “Why can’t I fix it? I-I messed up and I wanna fix it.”

“There’s no spell that will heal death, son.” The words sounded a lot calmer than Mori felt.

Remaining calm and being strong for him was important, now. He could feel it. Mori considered his next words as best he could, mindful of the potential negative repercussions.

“...As a… A witch. You will sometimes be called upon to act, that we might not lose something we can never get back. Magic can be dangerous, yes, but also powerful, and as caretakers of that power, we must be responsible. Do not act in haste, but also... Do not be afraid to act.”

Mori gently took the box from Chris. Inside, the weight of the bird shifted slightly. It was surprisingly heavy.

“I won’t let it happen again.”

Mori could have wept. He was so young, and tender, and caring. Too young for such anguish. Instead, he smiled.

“Come on, let us get you home and cleaned up. Your mother will mur- ...Uh, yell, at me, if she comes home and finds you scruffy like this.”

#perfectspell #chrisbrooks-hiki #moritoshihiki #writing #fiction

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jin-c-stories · 3 years

Text

Valerie Friedrich

Most babies are born into loving homes with loving parents. Even if they had little, usually parents will do all they can for the small defenseless being. Valerie Friedrich was never a normal child.

Her parents were growing apart, she was the last hope for their marriage. Before she could walk she knew the sounds of her parents’ arguments, had memorized every word, every pose like a line in a play. Finally, one day the fighting stopped.

When asked Valerie would say she didn’t have a father, in her mind her mother asexually pooped baby Val out like a bird. Birds reproduce asexually, right? It didn’t matter because her mom didn’t need a dead weight dragging her back, but even as a child she understood life would not be easy.

Their cobblestone apartment in Brooklyn was too small, but all they could afford. Hunger pangs came and went, but she never complained. She recognized how hard her mother worked to make ends meet. All that hard work meant that most of the time Valerie was left on her own.

She doesn’t exactly remember how it happened, but slowly the child spent less and less time at home. “What’s the point in going home, no one is going to be there?” The eight-year-old thought while exploring the streets.

A rhythmic thumb came towards her, drawing her attention. She turned to see the leather clad group of bikers riding on slick black and chrome motorcycles. Something about them scared yet excited her. The motorcycles passed and turned out of sight, but Valerie raced after them.

Following their music led her to a bar, all the beautiful bikes lined up outside. She marveled at them, daring herself to touch them.

A firm hand lifted the scrawny eight-year-old by the back of her shirt. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Panic gripped the child as she tried to pull away from him, but his grasp was stronger than her panic. He laughed and kneeled down “It’s okay, little spitfire.” As he released her, she took off into the afternoon. Her initial terror didn’t keep her away for long.

The next day she crept up to the cycles and gently ran her finger across the chromed logo. “At least ye got a good eye.” She whirled around, nearly knocking over the bike, but the man caught it with raised eyebrows. “Careful there, Spitfire.”

He smelled of booze, cigarettes, leather, and beard gel. Val was about to turn and run again, but a spark of kindness in his eyes made her hesitate.

“They call me Whiskey, what’s your name?”

Her silent, murderous look made him laugh. “Valerie.” She spat out after making a tough decision. Though her tone was polite, her stance screamed distrust.

Whiskey didn’t normally like kids. They were loud, annoying, and self-centered, but the eight-year-old with choppy, greasy blonde hair with a fight in her hazel eyes reminded the aged biker of someone long gone. “Well, it is nice to meet you, Valerie. Would you like to ride the motorbike?”

The biker bar biker bar became her second home, and the bikers became her family. Despite being scrawny and small, Valerie had a fight in her. Running around, she found a way to always covered in cuts and bruises. Even though they were a big part of her life, she never told her mom about them. She barely saw her mother at all.

It was almost 3am, but Valerie didn’t notice as she climbed the steps to their apartment. The neighbors were fighting again; she heard glass breaking. Probably a plate against their wall, Val thought. The twelve-year-old ignored it as she opened the door to the apartment she and her mother shared. The living room light was on as well as the kitchen light, though she was certain that she had turned them off before she left. “Val?” There at the kitchen table was her mom was sitting looking worried and tired.

“Hey mom, what are you doing up?”

“Me? What are you doing staying out so late, you are to be home at nine?”

She sighed and set her bag down on the couch, shrugging. “I was out with my friends.”

Her mom glared. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when you weren’t here? I brought home pizza so that we could celebrate my new promotion, but you weren’t even here.”

Valerie perked up at the mention of her mother’s promotion and food. She came into the kitchen taking a piece of cold pizza. “Congrats on the promotion, and thanks for the food.”

“Oh my God, Val, you look like you were rolling around in the gutter. And what are you wearing?”

The adolescent looked down at herself. Her oversized leather jacket had some dried blood on it, it has also been a couple of days since she had changed her clothes. Tomorrow she was going to find some quarters to take to the laundromat.

But it was too late to be having this conversation with anyone. She was tired and just wanted to sleep. Her mom also looked exhausted, pinching her eyebrows together. “Is this because I haven’t been around?” Val didn’t know how to answer, so she stood there quietly eating the cold pizza. “Things are going to change around here. With this new promotion I will be home more.”

She was home more, a lot more. It drove Valerie crazy. Then there was her new boyfriend to deal with. When her mom was around, he would pretend to love and care for Val, but as soon as she left he would hit and yell at the teen.

It made the teenager spend even less time at home. Whiskey seemed to understand and always offered her his couch. Then the bar owner, Larry, finally gave in, giving her a bedroom above the bar.

Everything began passing by in a blur. The next thing she knew, it was her seventeenth birthday. She was drunk and alone in the bar bathroom. Her breath smelled of blood and vomit. Her hazel eyes met in the mirror. She had grown into her leather jacket that was still covered in dry blood, not all of it hers. A bandage hand gently came up, poking at a new bruise on her jaw, but she noticed her black eye, almost completely healed.

Without thinking, she ripped the dirty bandaid off her face to look at a cut she got on her cheek. It had already scabbed over but was showing signs of infection. With a sigh, she cleaned it and placed a new bandaid over it. The rumble of motorcycles echoed through the bar like thunder. In the mirror, her eyes lit up. The boys were back.

The dirty bar was almost empty, but everyone inside glanced at the door as the engines came to an idle. Soon the door burst open as the gruff group came in.

A large redheaded man they called the Irishman glared at one of the new members in the corner. “What did you do?” The Irishman bellowed at the young man.

Confused, Val glanced over at the young adult who had been trying to hit on her since he joined their little group. He dared shrug at their leader. “I don’t know what you mean, old man.” He boldly dismissed the glare.

Whiskey was missing. Valerie looked out the window, but he wasn’t with them. “Where’s Whiskey?” She asked, knowing that he only rode with them. Looking at the smaller man with black hair called Hammer, he only looked away. “He was with you, wasn’t he?”

“Whiskey is in the hospital, thanks to what this piece of shit did.” The redhead yelled, standing by the pool table, practically fuming. “Go ahead, why don’t you tell Spitfire what you did.”

Valerie glanced at the boy, confusion, sadness, and anger all washing over her. “What did you do?” It came out more of an accusation than she meant.

She was now standing in front of their table waiting for an explanation. The boy in question only glared at her. “I did what no one else here had the balls to do and made a lot of money while doing it.”

To the older men like the Irishman, Hammer, and Whiskey the gang was more about being a family and riding motorcycles than dealing drugs, and fighting with rival gangs. They never cared about turf or what the other gangs did as long as it wasn’t at the bar. But some of the younger members only cared about making money, which meant dealing drugs and getting mixed up in turf wars. Valerie didn’t need to know which gang he pissed off or who he killed to know what he had done.

Her hands were shaking, her vision blurred, anger settled over her. These guys took her in, took him in, and this is how he repays them. She started pounding her fists on the table without even thinking. Pain shot up her arm, the table beneath them in splitters.

Stepping back, she almost blacked out from the pain in her hands and arms, but she could clearly tell what she did. The boys look at her with a mixture of horror and shock that she feels. The Irishman came up, placing a hand on her shoulder and letting out a long whistle.

The nurse and doctor at the ER asked her what happened, but nobody answered them. Her mom came rushing in looking at Hammer and the Irishman confused before looking at Valerie, who now had casts on both her hands and wrists. Val had several broken bones in both hands. She didn’t answer her mother’s questions; she didn’t want to.

The Irishman came in as they were getting ready to leave. “Whiskey’s up now if ya want to see him.”

“My daughter wants nothing more to do with your gang. Come Val.” But Valerie didn’t move. “Valerie, we are leaving now.” She glanced at the looming redhead.

He led them through the hospital corridors. Her mother a couple steps behind them planned out her rant. He held the door open for Val when they reached the room. From the hospital bed, the tough as nails biker looked small and weak. He lit up when he saw Valerie. “Hey there, little Spitfire. The Irishman told me what cha did to ol’ Larry’s table. Ya should’ve hit that boy in the face instead of ruining a good table.”

She laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Trust me next time I will. Once the spooks take these things off.” She held up her casts for him.

“Damn ya really did a number on ya self this time, didn’t cha.”

“Yeah, but I am still better off than you.”

He filled the room with laughter that turned into a cough. His doctor filled the doorway like a shadow with a forced smile. “I’ll see ya back in the bar once I’ve served my time here, kay?”

She nodded and left with her mother, which was a tense, silent car ride. In all honesty, she expected her mother to understand why she hung out with the biker group, but she didn’t. What did she expect Val to do all day, sit at home, alone for eighteen years? With them she was never alone and unlike her mother they looked out for her, they cared about her.

But like most people, her mother couldn’t see past their exterior. It was weird to shower every day, but with the casts and being grounded, it forced the teen to live by her mother’s rules. Valerie decided she hated the sickly sweet scent of flowers and missed the dirt, grime, oil, and smoke of the bar.

On top of everything else, there was her mother’s fiancé. He glared and shot venom at the teen every chance he got. But because of her mother’s doting, he didn’t get many chances.

Getting the casts off was like getting out of jail. Though her hands were still sore, she was ready to get out again. Her mother had other plans. Still grounded, they would not leave Valerie home alone. Which meant being alone with her fiancé while her mother was at work.

They were having a glaring contest from across the living room. Her mother had just left. In fact, they hadn’t even gotten the chance to lock the door yet when he started a glaring match. She knew he mentioned sending her to boarding school, though no one has talked to her about it. “Freak, do you even care about your mother?” he spat.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, unlike you.”

“At least I am here your dad couldn’t even be bothered to stay.”

“Actually, I don’t have a father. My mother found me digging through her garbage and thought I would make a good pet.”

He snarled at her. “You joke, but you are actually a burden, just like he was. If you actually loved her, you would leave.”

“Rrright,” Valerie started sarcastically, “because she wouldn’t be worried sick about me. Jesus, how dense are you?”

“Bitch!” He moved to stand threateningly above her.

“Ass.” She shot back.

He hit her, which wasn’t a surprise even if he behaved he would find an excuse. Only now Valerie could fight back. She glared at him with a new fire in her red eyes. Before he could step back in fear, she punched him as hard as she could.

She felt his skull crack, his blood poured onto the floor, but it was the sound he made that had her calling the police. He screamed and gurgled for breath. Panic made her voice shrill as she begged the ambulance to hurry. He was dying, and it was her fault. Staring at her bruising fist and all the blood had her packing and then running.

Guilt flooded her sense of judgement and direction. Panic carried her until dusk when it dropped her off at the edge of the city. She sat down by the small highway watching the sunset, unsure if her mom’s fiancé was okay. The image of him on their living room floor was scary, the thought that she did that was even scarier. Don’t show fear, she reminded herself, raining it in.

The rattling of an old truck came to a halt on the road beside her. She turned to watch the window roll down, revealing a kind looking older couple. “Need a lift.” The husband asked.

Not trusting her voice, she only stood and nodded, trying to hide her hands.

“I can take ya as far as DC.” He said, opening the door for her.

“That’s far enough.”

#oringial characters #supershorts #super shorts #superstrength #superhero #biker chick #FIGHT ME

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[MF] Flightless

“Clarise,” said the pigeon, peering down from the shimmering aspen trees.

She looked up. Yellow leaves fell all around her. Up above, gray clouds lined the sky.

The pigeon nodded at her. Its neck feathers gleamed violet and green.

“Remember your way home,” it said in her mother’s voice.

It flew away, hobbling through the air on crooked wings.

She walked out of the forest into the lights of Pelterridge City. Far behind her, the stick figure of her mom waved goodbye, red scarf dancing in the air.

***

It never snowed in winter. Dad set up a giant Christmas tree in the cluttered living room, beside the battered beige sofa. It was a plastic one, with an overwhelming scent of fake pine needles.

“I’m Arrick,” her stepbrother stood up and smiled uncertainly. “Um… I’m in eighth grade, and…”

He trailed off and settled for simply smiling.

“Clarise. Going to sixth grade.”

She had met her dad’s new wife several times before, but this was her first time meeting her stepbrother.

The pine needle smell was getting to her head. She sat down on the couch.

“Welcome,” Eliza Whitman, her stepmother, beamed like a lighthouse.

“Thanks,” she said.

It was December 24. Clarise didn’t know why she had to leave her real mother behind on Christmas Eve.

Her new house -- not home -- was on the fourth floor of the dingy Nelson-Eldridge Commons. It was clean, and the electricity and internet worked. But there seemed to be a clear divide between her, a Jovell, and Arrick and Elizabeth Whitman.

Her father was a Jovell too, but he had betrayed Mom and married this smiling red-haired woman instead.

She wanted to go to her real home. It was a dingier place in L.A., in the filthy apartments where electricity barely worked. It was occupied by a woman who made money by cleaning the machines at the laundromat and waitressing at bars. But the woman was her mother, and that counted more than anything else.

“Here’s for you,” Arrick muttered and shoved a wrapped cylinder at her.

“I don’t have any presents for you,” Clarise said, fidgeting with her fingers.

“It’s completely fine,” Eliza said. She had a papery smile on. “Christmas is time for family after all.”

Clarise thought that was a perfectly hypocritical thing for Eliza to say. She tore open the gaudy green wrapping paper. It was a pine needle scented candle. The smell made Clarise a bit dizzy.

***

On January 6, drizzle fell in a thin veil. Clarise stepped in the shallow puddles on the way to school, water rippling out away from her yellow rain boots. The storefronts on Cadlet Way were awakening. Warm light glowed from the bakery, candle store, and the records shop.

Winter break didn’t last forever. Eliza tried and failed to make conversation. Arrick stayed in his room all day, and Clarise avoided talking to Dad. Mom called twice, but they couldn’t find anything to say when they weren’t face-to-face.

Clarise took a turn at Kelsey Avenue. School loomed into view.

Telephone lines cut into the gray sky. Dandelion flowers bloomed, yellow among the dewy grass. Pelterridge Hills Elementary School stood like a stack of abandoned wooden blocks.

The attendance lady in the office impatiently told her that her classroom was 22B. Her teacher was Miss Hudson.

The classroom’s walls were decorated with a parade of art projects, almost all of them bright and falling apart. Clarise took her seat near the back of the classroom.

A short, pale boy stepped in seconds after the bell. He had fair hair, gray eyes, and freckles on his nose.

“You’re late again, Wilbert,” Miss Hudson said, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses.

The boy grinned.

“Late again, Will Clown?” The boys at Table 1 jeered. He shrugged.

“He’s weird,” a dark-haired girl nudged Clarise. “Nobody likes him. He’s so edgy. See his shoelaces?”

They were bright yellow. They looked okay, but of course Clarise didn’t say so.

Will Clown grinned at everyone. She couldn’t figure out why nobody liked him. She also couldn’t help but smile back.

***

“You’re Claire?” Will asked, standing beside the slide that Clarise was sitting on.

“Clarise. You’re Will Clown?”

She wondered if they could be friends.

“Wilbert Clayden, technically,” he said, stumbling over the last word. “Everybody calls me Will Clown though. You can do that too. Friends?”

“Deal.”

The bell clattered, signaling the end of lunch.

Clarise and Will Clown walked home together after school.

“I want to dye my hair,” Clarise said as they passed by Newer Days Saloon, with its neon sign glowing faintly under the cloudy sky.

It would cost twenty dollars. She could scrape that up from her piggy bank.

“What color?” Will asked, eyes glinting excitedly. “We can be punks, you know.”

“Punks?”

“Going against society,” Will whistled, already caught up in his own idea. “There are those really cool people on Kaster Street. They skate and listen to punk rock. Everyone thinks they’re cool.”

“Nice. I don’t know what color I’m going to dye my hair yet.”

“White. It’ll look epic,” he said and waved goodbye to Clarise.

At not-home, Arrick was sprawled on the sofa, entranced by the television.

***

Pale bluish silver and bright crimson. The colors tipped her black hair, a mess of clashing, clamoring hues. Clarise liked how the crimson almost mirrored her mother’s treasured scarf.

“You really did it?” Will Clown grinned, wide-eyed with excitement. “Damn.”

Clarise giggled. It was five pm, and the storefronts on Cadlet Way glowed in the setting sun. The sun laid out her shadow and Will Clown’s upon the wall next to the saloon. They were dark, a witch and a short scarecrow standing side by side.

“Do you think they’d say anything at school?” Clarise twirled a strand of silver hair around her index finger and squinted against the sky.

“Nah,” Will shrugged. “Listen carefully, Clarise Jovell, because I won’t say this again.”

He tried to continue but started giggling instead.

“What?”

“Rule number one of being punk,” he finally caught his breath, “is to not give a -- a fu -- fuck about what others think.”

He smiled, proud of saying his real swear word. “We’re gonna be like these kids on Kaster Street, Clarise. You know, these cool kids? Except we won’t make fun of other people.”

She nodded. A breeze blew strands of hair across her face. Against the sun, they made a chaotic whirlwind of black and red and gray. Chaotic in a good way.

“Eliza says I have to be home by five. I have to go.”

“Me too. See ya tomorrow,” Will picked up his blue bicycle that was carelessly abandoned on the sidewalk. He rode away in the middle of the carless road, a reckless figure rapidly shrinking.

“See you.”

She walked down Cadlet Way, the backpack suddenly too heavy on her shoulders. Her red Converse shoes felt a tiny bit too tight. Unidentifiable scents drifted from the candle store window.

At the end of the street, Nelson-Eldridge Commons seemed like a prison unit. Five-story houses, dirty white walls, barred windows along the gray staircase. Pigeons perched on the laundry lines that extended from one third-story window to another. They stared at her among the ripped jeans, tie-dye T-shirts, and mustard-yellow baby socks.

Welcome to not-home, they cooed to her.

She wanted to pick up a stone and throw it at them. She wanted to feed them bread crumbs from breakfast.

Instead, she ignored them and walked up the gray stairs stained with graffiti and stark white bird droppings. She knocked on the fourth-floor door anxiously. A tiny hiss of television sounds and conversation seeped through the keyhole.

“Where --,” her stepmother flung open the door. “Hang on, what did you do to your hair?”

“I dyed it,” Clarise looked at Eliza’s chin, not meeting her eyes.

“God, you’re only thirteen,” Eliza stared at her. “Did we give you permission to dye your hair?”

“Let the girl in,” Dad called loudly from the kitchen, followed by a flutter of newspapers.

Eliza stepped out of the doorway, lines of disapproval between her flawlessly penciled eyebrows. Clarise dumped the backpack on the beige couch beside Arrick. Her eyes stung a bit. Arrick looked up from the TV.

“By golly, Clarise, you’re in some damn serious trouble,” he said.

“Watch your language,” Eliza crossed her arms, leaning against the shoe rack. “Clarise, if you’re going to make a big decision like dying your hair that atrocious color, you have to ask us first.”

“Why?” She was exhausted all of a sudden. She could have sworn that the house was poisonous and sapping all the energy out of her.

“Why?” Her stepmother repeated incredulously. Her hands gesticulated wildly in the air. Then she suddenly deflated. “Jonathan, you’re her father. You talk to her about this.”

“Alright,” her dad put down the newspapers on the kitchen table. “Clarise, we’re your parents whether you like it or not. Until you become an adult you’ll be living with us. We want what’s best for you, really.”

He rubbed his temple. Unspoken words hung in the air like laundry.

“You aren’t even my real mom.” The words escaped without Clarise’s control. Eliza froze.

“What did you say?” Dad glared at her, all the patience gone from his voice. “Apologize to her right now, Clarise Jovell.”

Arrick turned off the TV.

“But it’s true! She’s not my mom.”

The world was spinning around Clarise. She didn’t owe Eliza Whitman any apology. If anything, Eliza owed her for stealing her dad away from her real mom. And Eliza had no right to control Clarise’s hair, especially since Clarise had only been living with her for two weeks.

“Go back to your room,” Dad’s voice was deadly quiet.

“But --”

“I said go back,” he stood up. The air buzzed like a hornet’s nest.

Clarise grabbed her backpack and spun around without saying another word. She walked to her room and locked the door behind her. She didn’t slam the door -- her dad wanted her to lose her temper so that he could yell, and she won’t do that. She closed it silently.

The tears came then. They blurred her eyes and temporarily obscured the mess of unpacked boxes in the middle of the room. Outside, two voices raised.

She felt like a tied-down bird here, flightless.

A pigeon was perched on her windowsill among the dying succulents. It peered at her and cooed.

“Go away,” she whispered, wondering if her eyes were as red as the crimson parts of her hair.

Pigeon wings whistled through the chilly December air. A feather fell down, spinning, dyed gold by the setting sun.

***

Clarise had exactly $31.52 hidden in her sock drawer. At midnight, her digital alarm clock glared red numbers. She checked her backpack one more time. There was the money, some clothes, some food and water, and a detailed map of Southern California.

She was going to find her real mom at the apartment by the laundromat.

The front door groaned as Clarise pushed it open. A dog barked somewhere far away. It was freezing outside. Clarise layered on her sweater and two jackets. She could still feel the cold.

Her mom’s laundromat was exactly 23.4 miles south of Pelterridge City. But she was going to get there, and then she’d be home, and she won’t have to deal with Eliza Whitman, who was yelling at her already after two weeks.

She’d miss Will Clown though. She had a friend for two days.

The city bus rolled around the corner. For Clarise, t was a simple matter of standing on the tip of her toes and keeping her face in the dark. The driver, sluggish from exhaustion, didn’t look twice at her and didn’t know that she was only twelve.

Outside, Pelterridge City might as well have been dead. Neon signs glowed from storefronts, but there was no life on the streets besides blackbirds and pigeons.

The bus roamed the highway. There were two other passengers, both half-asleep under the dim blue light.

Clarise wondered if Will Clown was asleep at home, if Eliza and Arrick and Dad were asleep, if any of them would care that she was gone. The blue light winked at her and cast her ghostly reflection on the smudged, foggy window.

Her eyelids were weighed down. The bus rode over bumps, and soon Clarise heard the clamor of traffic. A green sign was visible in the night. Downtown LA, 5.2 MI.

She was around 5.2 miles away from her mom.

***

She found her mom’s laundromat fifty steps from the bus stop, sidewalk lined with cars and leaves and litter. The lights were bright inside, brilliantly blue, and the washing machine stood in soldier-like rows.

The address was 201 Sheller Way. She walked up a flight of gray stairs disturbingly similar to the one at not-home and arrived on the second floor. Two doors stood beside her, peeling. An orange light bulb flickered overhead.

Clarise knocked on 201. She waited.

From the telephone lines down the street, there came a flutter of pigeon wings. The door creaked open.

A woman stood in the doorway. Her wet black hair was wrapped in a towel, and there were remains of eyeliner under her eyelashes. She blinked.

“Clarise,” she said. Her eyes suddenly shone too brightly under the flickering orange light. “Come in.”

Her arms wrapped around Clarise’s narrow shoulders. Her hair smelled like soap, and there was cinnamon on her breath. There were tears budding in both of their eyes.

They sat on the tattered brown couch, Clarise and her mother. The room was illuminated by a yellow light, coins under furnitures, newspaper stuffed into corners.

“Your hair looks beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Clarise, I love you. I’m sorry I can’t take care of you. Eliza Whitman is a good woman, you know that?”

She didn’t know that, in fact.

“Yes.”

Clarise looked around. She must have inherited her mom’s talent for killing houseplants.

“Your dad told me you’re missing,” her mother went on, pushing wet hair out of her eyes.

“I love you.”

***

At three am, Jonathan Jovell and Clarise’s mother hugged. Then Jonathan ushered Clarise into a shiny red car. He drove home along the highway in silence.

Arrick’s door opened a crack at home.

“Your stepmother is worried sick, you know,” he whispered, somehow not sounding accusing.

“She cares about you,” Dad added quietly, then walked into the living room.

“I’m going back to sleep,” said Arrick, closing the door.

Then Eliza Whitman came out of her bedroom, wet hair and smudged makeup, red underneath her eyes. Clarise stood in the hallway. They stared at each other without a word. Eliza wrapped her arms around Clarise. She smelled of gingerbread instead of cinnamon, but that was good enough.

***

It was cold, but green spring was budding on the aspen trees along Cadiz Creek.

“Come on,” urged Will Clown, sprinting ahead of Clarise. She adjusted her scarf and followed. It was red and white, half knitted by her mother and half by Elizabeth Whitman.

“Slow down,” she said. The creek flashed a few feet ahead, the water rushing silver and faint blue. She caught up with Will at the water’s edge, among the leaves that hadn’t quite decayed in the winter’s cold.

“Ever fished before, Clarise?”

“No.”

Will grinned and handed her a fishing pole. “Firsts.”

The air was colder over the creek. Clarise sat down on a mossy rock and waited as Will fumbled in his backpack for baits. Warblers whistled in the air. There was the cooing of a pigeon or two, and it soothed her.

She sat with Will Clown by the creek, cold air blowing in their face, as the clouds overhead cleared and blue seeped out. A fish tugged on her pole, bending it slightly. She hesitated for a second, heart pounding with excitement and fear that water will splash all over her pale blue sweater. Then she spun the reel.

The fish was small, not much longer than her palm. It flopped, iridescent silver.

“Not fair,” said Will Clown.

Clarise laughed in reply. The sun came out behind the clouds, and the air didn’t feel so cold anymore.

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