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prinxlyart · 4 years

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No prob! Even if its just moral I love to support the artists I follow! And I will👍! Now I only have one(two maybe) question left for your Willumity AU: Who would propose first and who would they do it? (And if you allow Boscha to redeem herself in this, what relationship would she have with them?) Take care!

Oof this is a toughie. Hmmmmmmmmm........ I mean, lots of shenanigans would ensue, for sure for sure for sure, but what kind of shenanigans.....

[warning: this is like. Hella long y’all. I’m talking like, super deep dive into Boscha redemption territory. I’m not even kidding, it’s taken me all weekend to write this because there’s so much. I don’t even get into proposals...You’ve been warned]

Okay so!

Boscha sees all the girls have gotten together into one big relationship and is sort of knocked back on her ass. Amity? In a romantic relationship with Half-A-Witch and the Human????? What the fuck happened to that girl?! She’s been at a loss for how to even interact with them ever since a rumor had spread that Luz had gone toe-to-toe with the Emperor. Boscha wasn’t sure she believed that before, but watching her supposed friend of more than half a decade just drop her like she was nothing to go all soft over this human? Maybe Luz did do something impressive enough to garner Amity’s attention.

She would rather die than admit out loud (or even to herself) that she had a crush on Amity. It hurt her so much more than she realized when Amity stopped hanging out with her and it was just driving a stake through her heart when Amity defended them and joined their Grudgby team for that stupid challenge. It took her weeks following that whole fiasco to even look at Amity, let alone talk about her with the rest of her friend group, that by the time she thought she was over it, she looked up and saw her blushing and linking arms with both girls she’d played against Boscha with. Boscha may have broken her locker than day. She refused to say why.

If I’m following all of my narrative speculation threads, I think Skara pulls her aside one day and tells her she needs to calm tf down. Luz and Willow are chill as hell and they don’t deserve the vicious death glares Boscha’s been sending them. I think that’s the final nail in the coffin for Boscha. Her other supposed best friend is turning on her too?? But she isn’t??? Boscha’s head and heart are so confused by all this that she just skips the next day of school. I think she spends the day in the (newly-rebuilt) Treasure Shack just staring at the ceiling and tossing a hackey sack into the air while she blasts music that she doesn’t hear because she’s so deep in her own thoughts. Skara would find her immediately after school let’s out. There’s only one place Boscha would be if she skipped class for a day. Before any of the other teens make their way to the Treasure Shack, they leave so they can talk somewhere more private.

I think they spend a really long time hashing out Boscha’s thoughts and feelings. Skara even feels brave enough to bring up why they’re always so mean to others. There are other ways to prove how awesome you are without actively putting others down. In fact, putting others down to be on top is almost like cheating; you’re not actually proving you’re the best if you’re hindering your competition. Skara knows how awesome and amazing Boscha is and can be, but they spend their time just being mean to everyone else rather than actually showing off their talents. She also mentions how scary powerful Willow actually is and confirms the rumors about Luz taking on the Emperor and living to tell the tale so it’s not like they have no magical ability. Amity might just be rolling with the new most powerful witches at Hexside. Dating them even. And have you seen that illusion track kid in action?? He created some complex illusions during their Grudgby match and that was for funsies. They’re a severely powerful group. And they’re liked by everyone because they’re so kind. They’re revered by their classmates for being so powerful and so nice at the same time, meanwhile they just fear Boscha. They don’t think she’s all that great, but she is powerful enough to kill them if need be, so they just stay out of her way. Boscha hates everything Skara points out but doesn’t deny any of it.

Skara admits she’s been talking with Willow a lot about all of this; she’s definitely apologized for the bullying she’s done in the past and Willow actually accepted it which surprises Boscha. A lot of her insight is a mix of hashing shit out with Willow in the Greenhouse after school and some self reflection at home, but that’s why they all hang out together now. Oh, and she and Amity had a sleepover relatively recently where they decided to start their friendship over. Now they’re actually friends and can say so with a smile because it’s true and it’s not just to appease their parents.

Boscha never thought she’d do this in her life but she just bites the inside of her cheek and does it anyway: she asks Skara for advice. All Skara knows to suggest confidently is to think about how she treats everyone and how that can be changed. She also tells her to think about what she actually wants. Does she want to be the school bully? Or does she actually want to be friends with Amity again? Does she maybe want to find out how cool Luz and Willow are? They’re definitely all a package deal by now and it might be hard to be friends with Amity again after how horribly they’d treated Willow over the years. Boscha spends the entire weekend thinking over everything she talked about with Skara.

The following school week, Boscha is having a hard time getting Willow alone. At least one of her girlfriends is always by her side by the time she can find her between classes. It’s not until after school that Boscha manages to beat both Luz and Amity to the Greenhouse to ask Willow if they can talk. Willow is wary at first, but sees that Boscha has a weird look to her that sets aside and fears of Boscha attempting to pick on her. She noticed that Boscha has barely even looked at her in weeks. So she agrees and they find an empty classroom to talk in privately (Willow lets Amity and Luz know that she’s busy and will meet them later). Willow waits expectantly for Boscha to threaten her or yell at her or whatever else and is shocked (and maybe even scared?) when Boscha finally blurts out her apology. She lets Boscha just ramble her apologies for a while and watches her fumble over her words and her face turn a little red and genuinely doesn’t know how to react. Has the world turned upside down? Is it Opposite Day? Is this some kind of elaborate prank? The tears in Boscha’s eyes suggest that it’s not. Eventually Willow stops her and they just sit in silence for a minute while Willow kind of turns it all over in her head. Boscha’s freaking out because Willow is just standing there watching her and she feels like she’s a bug under a magnifying glass. I think Willow truly doesn’t know what to say and just kinda sighs and picks up her bag to get ready to leave and tells Boscha she just needs to think about everything she said. Because she can’t forgive her, not for the years of ceaseless bullying, but she needs to think about whether or not she’ll even accept her apology. Boscha just kinda nods numbly and Willow leaves and Boscha just sorta melts into the floor from exhaustion and frayed nerves.

I think Willow would ask Skara first about what she thinks of Boscha’s apology; they’re still friends after all, even though Skara’s been hanging out with them more often. Skara’s blown away because she didn’t think the talk they had just the previous Friday afternoon would lead to all that. So now Willow knows the apology is real. She’ll tell her girlfriends next because they’re also directly affected by this and they are also both shell-shocked. Amity is unsure of everything simply because she’s witnessed Boscha’s behavior first-hand for years and this just doesn’t sound like her (Luz agrees, oddly quietly), but Willow confirmed with Skara that it was a real apology. That that was why Boscha wasn’t at school on Friday. I think they’re all at the Owl House while they have this conversation so Eda and Lilith both overhear and throw their two snails in; Eda knows from experience that sometimes bullies are only bullies because they’ve been raised that way. She had some school friends that were pretty nasty before realizing just how nasty they were after the kids they were bullying got into some serious trouble. Lilith confirms the stories and also throws in that, based on her own experience, she may be doing all the wrong things with what she thinks are the right intentions. This gives all three of them something to think about for the rest of the night.

I’d say it takes them roughly the rest of the week to really come to a conclusion. The entire time, Boscha is begging Skara for any updates but Skara isn’t in on that loop. So in the meantime, she asks Skara for help in fixing her behavior during their free time. Boscha came to the conclusion on her own that she doesn’t actually want to be a bully, she just wants to feel acknowledged for her efforts. Skara reprimands her for falling back on bullying tactics when things don’t go the way Boscha wants them to. Their other friends in their friend group pick up on this and are 100% on board with helping Boscha be a better person. They were all too scared to disrupt the flow that they had to call her out before, but now that Boscha’s actually trying to be better?? They’re all in to help her. I don’t think Boscha’s ever felt this kind of support before. Her whole life she’s had friends to back her up when she tooted her own horn, her pack to intimidate by numbers. But now they’re actually wanting to help her? They’re not just sticking around so they themselves don’t become ostracized? Boscha’s never really experienced that before and it makes her feel warm inside. At first she thinks she’s sick but Bo (I think her name is Bo; the light-skinned healing track girl with the freckles that taught Skara that fire-to-ice spell) runs a quick diagnosing spell over her and let’s her know that no, she’s not sick, she’s just experiencing happiness for once. Everyone else laughs, even Boscha after a moment because holy shit, she’s actually happy.

Over the course of that week, our main trio is quietly watching Boscha’s metamorphosis from the sidelines. They’re all confused at first; she really is trying to change? Luz is the first one to get excited though. It’s just like one of her favorite character tropes: bully learns to be nice and is better for it (and maybe falls in love with the person they’ve been bullying). Willow scoffs at that, but she does admit that it’s reassuring to see Boscha actually making the effort. In public too, she’s not trying to hide the fact that she wants to change. Luz, being in all the tracks at Hexside, gets the chance to actually talk to each of the girls in Boscha’s friend group about the whole situation and gets some pretty solid evidence that yes, Boscha’s really making that effort. She reports as much back to her girlfriends and by the time the week ends, Willow’s the one tracking down Boscha by the Potions Hall to take her aside for a chat.

Boscha is scared shitless when Willow asks to talk to her for the first time since Monday but obliges and they find a private place to talk. Willow lets her know that she’s ready to accept her apology and Boscha nearly bursts into tears in relief. She knows that it isn’t forgiveness, but Willow is accepting the fact that she’s trying to change and she is sorry for her past actions. Willow fills her in on all the various (drama? Lack of drama?) chatter about her trying so hard to be nicer from Boscha’s friend group that Boscha actually does start crying at that. She’s so relieved that her friends aren’t doing this as some kind of payback; that they’re actually supporting her with no ulterior motives. They’d have every reason and right to, but they aren’t and Boscha is so relieved to hear as much. Willow doesn’t know if she should try to comfort her or what so they both kind of stand there awkwardly for a minute while Boscha wipes the tears from her face. She thanks Willow for accepting her apology and vows to her (maybe a little too dramatically; it actually makes Willow want to laugh because it reminds her so much of Luz) that she will be a better witch. Not just a better witch to her and her friends, but to everyone. When they part ways for the weekend, they’re both buzzing with giddiness. Boscha, because Willow finally accepted her apology and knew that this was a huge first step in her road to being a better witch. Willow because she knows for certain that Boscha’s giving this her all; and maybe they could even become friends. Skara and Amity did a do-over on their friendship, maybe Boscha’s hoping to do the same.

Shockingly, Boscha actually goes to Luz next by sitting next to her during their shared potions class the following week. She slides her a note asking to speak with her outside of class to which Luz agrees (with a silly doodle of a winky face and a thumbs up that makes Boscha nearly giggle). Boscha apologizes to Luz next for her behavior towards her and much to Boscha’s surprise, Luz not only accepts her apology, but forgives her too. Boscha didn’t even expect that. Luz explains that she hasn’t been on the Boiling Isles long enough to be really affected by Boscha’s past bullying, not like her girlfriends. And she’s super grateful and proud of Boscha for reaching out to Willow first and actually going to the lengths she’s been going to to be a better person. Boscha, not used to praise that she wasn’t fishing for, just blushes and nods. Luz sort of coos at her and comments on how cute she looks when she blushes which only makes her blush harder and start threatening Luz with empty promises of violence if she doesn’t shut up. Luz starts running away, cackling, and calls out to her as she’s leaving that she hopes they can be friends some day soon. Boscha silently agrees and goes home with a goofy smile that won’t leave her face no matter how hard she tries because Luz called her cute. She shoves that thought aside for the time being, just grateful that Luz was so quick to forgive her.

Finally, she approaches Amity. Or rather, she leaves a note in her locker because the Abomination Hall and the Potions Hall are nowhere near each other. At this point, Amity is on the fence about what she wants to do because on the one hand, she was never truly friends with Boscha and she’s not sure if she wants to be. On the other hand, she’s been watching Boscha change over the last week and a half and is actually surprised at how hard she’s working at it. She isn’t surprised by how hard she’s working; Boscha always gives 110% into anything she does, she’s just surprised that she’s working at being nice at all. But between Willow telling them how their chat went on Friday and Luz telling them about their talk on Monday (and Luz mentioning how cute Boscha was when she was red and sputtering her empty threats), she’s at least willing to hear her out. So she stands there and waits for Boscha to start and is actually kind of surprised to see Boscha’s already so pink she’s almost the same shade as her own hair. I think she’s silently patient out of shock more so than any amount of politeness. She’s never seen Boscha....flustered????? Luz was right, it is kind of cute, but now isn’t the time for that.

Boscha kept her conversation with Amity for last because she knew it was the hardest one to have. She had been pushing it aside for the last few weeks now; although she’s finally admitted to herself that she (has/had?) a crush on her. By the time they make it somewhere private, Boscha’s so nervous that she’s almost shaking. And Amity is just standing there, watching her, and saying nothing. That is until Boscha nearly starts crying and Amity finally breaks, if only due to concern. They may not have ever been real friends, but neither of them were heartless either. Amity manages to coax some words out of Boscha through her thick tears and once the words start, they don’t stop. Boscha didn’t mean to admit her crush on Amity to her face, but that sort of slipped out with all her other apologies and explanations. Amity desperately wishes Luz or Willow were there with her because they are so much better at emotional shit than Amity is. Amity does flush when she hears Boscha confess her crush on her and doesn’t really know what to say to that. Boscha had a crush on her? This whole time? She had a crush on the Amity from before she met Luz???? Amity considered herself an entirely different person from who she was before she met Luz. To think that Boscha’s quietly been harboring feelings for her all that time? Even before that time?? It’s flattering to say the least, but she definitely has mixed feelings about it. She didn’t like who she was before she met Luz. It’s hard to imagine someone else liking her.

Their conversation takes a long time to really hash out. They have a long history to sort out; sorting out Boscha’s feelings and identifying instances where they were horrible to other witches and how it wasn’t okay. There’s so many things that need to be figured out between the two of them. I think Boscha remembers what Skara had done and offers they have a sleepover to really try to start their friendship over. But I don’t think Amity is actually comfortable with that yet. Not due to Boscha’s crush on her or anything, just because it’s a different situation than it was with Skara. There would be a lot more to cover than just learning about what sort of music the other likes. And Boscha is definitely crushed on the inside, but just accepts it because she knows it’s a lot. I think after a while they both leave with the promise that they’ll continue this conversation later; Amity just needs to consult her girls first. She really doesn’t know how to handle all this and needs to just kinda decompress with her girlfriends and sort out all of her thoughts. Boscha agrees; they both have each other’s scroll contacts still, so they can reach out to each other whenever they’re ready to continue that conversation.

I think Willow and Luz would find it adorable that Boscha has/had a crush on Amity (which only makes Amity blush and chide them for not focusing on the subject at hand). Luz is super excited about Boscha trying to make amends all over the place. She’s even watched her between classes go out of her way to apologize to others too, so it’s not just them she’s trying to make amends with. Boscha always has one of her friends with her when she does this, but mostly as support or to remind her to not use bullying tactics or words when she’s trying to apologize. There’s been a low buzz of rumors going on about it too, Boscha’s strange change of heart has captured the attention of most students. Amity still isn’t sure how to feel about the whole situation though. There’s less to apologize for between them and more just explaining themselves. Why they never held each other accountable for their shitty behavior, why Amity seemed to just tolerate Boscha’s existence while Boscha silently harbored a crush on her; there was less in terms of wrong doings between the two of them and more just laying their cards on the table. I think Luz would be the one to suggest she go through with the slumber party, but maybe also have Skara join them as a sort of mediator. Willow is also hesitant; she doesn’t want to encourage her girlfriend to venture into something that makes her so uncomfortable, but she agrees with Luz that they need to clear the air between them. She admits that having Skara there would actually help a lot with that; Skara seeking Willow out on her own terms to apologize to Willow and talking with her so openly gave Willow more than enough reason to trust her with Amity’s feelings, especially after they reconciled their own friendship.

I actually don’t know what sort of history those girls have, but I’ve actually been in Amity’s place before. I’ve tolerated the existence of a person who developed a crush on me and it was....awkward at best. This person didn’t try to be a better person in the time that I knew them though. They just kept making excuses for their shitty behavior, so I’m genuinely not sure how this would all play out. I think having Skara join them for this weekend-long feelings jam certainly helps things along; she knows when to push them to tell the truth and when to sit back and let them take their time. I think by the coming school week (we’re what, in week 3 of Boscha’s redemption arc by now??? Almost a whole month of this emotional vulnerability??? How exhausting), they do manage to find a stable ground to start rebuilding their friendship. It takes a while, and I think Boscha’s nervous about it at first, mostly due to Willow’s near-constant presence around Amity, but Luz’s just. Sheer determination to befriend Boscha and integrate her into their ever-growing friend group both encourages Boscha and softens Willow’s stiffness in her presence.

Oofa doofa, I don’t even know how long it would take before any of them truly catch feelings RE: Boscha. I think Luz picks up on Boscha’s nervousness around Willow first and teases Boscha about it when they’re alone. And Willow and Amity do agree, Boscha is very cute when she blushes hard enough to match the color of her hair. It’s also fun to watch her freak out and turn into just one big pink blob hissing obscenities at a cackling Luz. I think Luz might get caught up in her fiction character tropes a little too much before she realizes she’s not taking Willow’s feelings into account (not so much that it causes damage; they’ve probably been dating for months now by this time). Luz would have to ask Willow how she felt about Boscha overall and Willow I think....would be unsure for a very long time. I think eventually, long after Boscha’s been fully integrated into their friend group and she’s actually seen who Boscha is when she’s a good friend and not a bully, does Willow begin to feel the inklings of feelings sneaking into her heart. Amity is in a similar boat as Willow, but neither make their feelings known for quite some time. They’re happy with their little triad relationship; they’re not sure what it would mean to include Boscha when they were still so unsure of their feelings.

Luz is so full of love she literally radiates it and it’s contagious. I don’t even thunk she realizes she’s developed a fondness for Boscha until several months after they’ve become friends. Besides, she’s far too busy teasing Boscha about her crush on Willow and Amity to realize how much Boscha also seems to blush around her. I don’t think she gets it until one day Boscha just shoves something in her hands and stalks off to class and when Luz looks at what she gave her, she just kinda gasps. Because Boscha definitely gave her a note that just reads “I like you too, you idiot”. Luz just runs to Willow and Amity and shows them the note and they all three call an emergency girlfriend meeting to sort out what exactly they want to do about this whole situation. Polyamory is hard because it requires so much mindfulness of everyone involved. But they all manage to admit that they’ve been harboring some softer feelings for Boscha and decide to test those waters. And maybe have a little fun with those tests as they do so. They maaaaayybbeee make it a competition to see who can make Boscha blush the hardest. They can all be quite competitive.

Boscha suddenly finds herself at the center of a Willumity Flirt-Off that she was NOT prepared for and doesn’t know how to handle it. All three of them are suddenly winking at her when she catches them looking at her, or maybe sitting way too close at lunch, or even just complimenting her when she doesn’t expect it and she nearly passes out from the attention. I think there’s a moment when she actually walks into a door when the girls realize they’re maybe taking this too far and apologize to Boscha before asking her if she wants to try being in their relationship with them. And I think Boscha does pass out at that.

I think it’s a tough adjustment period for them all. Balancing the four of them takes a lot time and fine-tuning to get it right. Boscha’s still just bewildered that she’s come so far with each of them enough to actually be in a relationship with each of them equally. There’s definitely some jealousy here and there, some old fears of being left behind cropping up, but all of those worries are thoroughly stamped out once they’re addressed. I think they all try very hard to get this to work and they do make it work. Boscha forever considers it the most dramatic year of her life.

I literally cannot even begin to get into proposals this is far too long already but thank you so much for sticking around if you’ve made it this far!!!!! This one in particular got hella long because there were so many moving parts @-@

I’ll be the first to admit: I’ve never been in a polyamorous relationship myself (I’ve never had any polyamorous partners before ;v;). I do know how important communication and establishing individual relationships can be though. It’s always so important to make sure that you and your partners are on the same page before doing anything that can dramatically affect your relationship. Consulting individuals within the relationship is also important. Just because you’re in a group doesn’t mean your relationship with each individual is any less important.

Ngl, this was also kind of hard for me to write because I truly don’t know what Boscha’s like when she’s not a bully. We haven’t seen that much of her character outside of her being a bully that thrives on fear and praise. She could very well be just as much an over dramatic dork as Luz. I don’t even think she knows; she’s been a bully her whole life. What is your personality like when you realize you don’t have to be a bully??? Idk, but that’s why this took me all weekend to write; I really don’t know how Boscha is outside of being a bully. Hopefully we get to see who she is in season 2!!!!!

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fanfoolishness · 4 years

Text

on the subject of rocks (SUF)

Steven and Jasper have a long-overdue conversation. Set two years after SUF, canon-compliant. A little angst, a lot of hope. ~2500 words.

***

Steven is eighteen years old when he decides he wants to try to speak with her again.

If she wants to, that is.

He thinks he’s ready. He thinks the conversation might dim the feeling of her fragments cutting into his palm, the weight of his crime crushing his heart, his gut, his gem. Therapy has helped a great deal. But there are still nights he wakes up panting, remembering what it felt like to let go, to hurt, to shatter, and he wonders.

If Jasper has the same terrible memories, the same haunting, then maybe they should talk about it.

He talks with Dr. Boverman for hours. He wants to be sure this is right. Not just for him, but he wants to make sure this won’t damage her further than he already has. They go round and round. They’ve spoken of so many things, old wounds that pierced and bled and fractured, but most of those wounds were done to him.

The blood on his hands is less than he’d once feared it was, but it still doesn’t scrub clean.

“It will always be with you,” Dr. Boverman’s calm voice says. “You shattered Jasper. You didn’t intend to, but it’s what happened.”

“I know,” says Steven, and the thought no longer incapacitates him with shame. It was terrible, violent, the worst possible action committed at nearly his lowest point. But he accepts it, now, accepts that this will stay with him always. That it should.

And yet --

He and Dr. Boverman strategize. Roleplay. Hours of scenarios, how to accept if she never wants to talk to him again, what to do if Jasper says she isn’t ready, what to do if she lashes out, what to do if she fights him, what to do if she bends her hands into the Diamond salute. Each scenario frightens him at first, sends his heart racing. The first time they talked about it he glowed pink again for the first time in months. But the terror fades a little every time they speak, and several weeks later, he thinks he might be ready.

***

Little Homeworld is always different and always the same. It’s a comforting flow of change, new Gems appearing each time he visits, old teachers moving on. His family is still there, of course, and he has plans to catch up with them tomorrow. But today -- today he wants to know if this is the right time.

If there will ever be a right time. And if there isn’t, he thinks he can make his peace with that.

He finds Jasper sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the forest, alone as he’d expected she would be. A sketchbook sits in front of her, colored pencils at her side. His footsteps crunch on autumn leaves.

“Jasper?” he asks hesitantly, ten feet away.

She turns to look at him, her form unchanged from the last time he saw her, the stripe through her eye disrupted, her horn broken. So she hadn’t gone to Yellow, then. A thread of fear mixed with guilt begins unspooling within him. Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.

Jasper snorts, a gruff smile spreading over her face. “I wondered if you’d stop by, one of these days. I heard some of the others say you were coming into town.”

“Hi,” says Steven hesitantly. He takes a deep breath, remembering his strategies. “I -- I’d like to ask you something, Jasper.”

“Shoot,” she says in disinterest, picking up a pencil. She makes scratchy marks against the sketchbook paper, scribbles he can’t quite make out.

He edges closer. “I was wondering… I’ve done a lot of thinking.”

“Sounds like you.”

Despite himself, he chuckles slightly. “All right, fair.”

“Thinking about what?” she asks.

“About you,” says Steven honestly. “And me. What I did to you. What we did to each other.” He lets out a long, tremulous sigh, returning mentally to his gemstone, taking deep breaths with his diamond as his anchor. “And I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it. It’s okay if you don’t, or if you want me to leave you alone.” Breath. Another. “I’m so sorry, Jasper.”

She glances up at him, giving him an odd look, then gestures beside her with a powerful shoulder. “Go on. Sit down, already.”

No ‘my Diamond.’ He’s more relieved than he’d expected to be. He sets down his bag and sits down on the ground, resting against the log instead of sitting on top of it with her. He sinks into the soft loam, leans against the fallen trunk. It’s more comfortable than it looks. A few feet between them seem like miles, or inches, he isn’t sure.

Jasper regards him coolly, tilting her head slightly to one side. “Why’d you really come here?”

“To talk to you,” says Steven, his hands folded and calm in his lap, his breathing slowing. “You told me once that I was the one who needed help. I’ve been getting it.”

“Told you,” she says, but there’s no gloating in her voice. She purses her lips, face tensed in concentration. At last she says, “So have I.”

He blinks, hands coming apart, fingers falling open. He raises his head and gazes up at her, wondering if he’s heard her right. “You have?”

“You told me to do something better with my life,” says Jasper, picking up her sketchbook. At this angle he can see what she’s drawn. It’s a rock -- what was it with her and rocks -- but a tenderly realized rock, craggy edges shaded in carefully, mosses and lichens rendered in textured shades of green and brown.

“Jasper, that’s -- that’s really beautiful,” says Steven. He’s been working on his art, too, but he’s no good at the type of delicate detail work laced into her sketch. “Who taught you?”

“Ruby,” she says. She sets the pencil down beside her, hands tensing on the sketchbook. “I don’t go to Lapis’ classes.”

“Right.” Part of him is saddened to hear it. Another part of him is grateful for Lapis’ sake. He wonders which of them he’s most like. “It seems like you’ve really taken to Little Homeschool. I’m glad for you.”

A small scoff of a laugh, but it softens at the end into something more like a real smile. Jasper shakes her hair, its white strands catching in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees. She looks… calm, like this, and it’s not a state he ever remembers seeing her in before.

“What about you?” she asks suddenly.

“I’m doing well,” he replies, still shocked that they’re talking at all. It’s going far better than most of the scenarios he’d practiced with Dr. Boverman. “I visit with my family every couple of weeks. I’ve been spending a lot of time in cities lately. All the noise and hustle and bustle… it’s different, sometimes it’s overwhelming, but I like the energy. It’s… good. It’s really good. Connie and I meet up every week. And I talk to my therapist.”

“What’s that?”

“A therapist? Um… it’s like a healer for human minds. But it’s not instant, like with Diamond powers. It takes time. A long time.” He gives her a small smile. “Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, but overall, I’m feeling a lot better than… before.”

Jasper considers his words. She leans down, and he realizes a shiny blue beetle is crawling over the tip of her boot. He tenses, waiting.

Jasper watches the beetle go, making no further move toward it. It ambles away peacefully.

“You are not my Diamond,” she says into the silence.

“No,” he agrees, and something inside of him unclenches. “I -- I’m a Diamond. But mostly I’m just Steven.”

“I hated you for so long.”

He fights an urge to be sarcastic, to bite back at her. This doesn’t sound… angry. He keeps quiet, and lets her speak.

Her hand clenches into a fist, heavy against her thigh. “I thought that if you could stop being weak, if I could make you stronger, I would have my Diamond again. My purpose. Someone to protect, someone to serve.”

She stares into the woods, and he remembers his hands and legs awash in pink, the glow as he tore through the trees beneath a starry sky. He remembers jagged laughter, his gem humming, a power crueler than he’d ever felt before --

“I know.”

“Don’t ‘I know’ me when I’m talking to you,” she snaps. “I’m trying to -- arrgh. I thought this would be easier.”

“You thought what would be easier --” he starts to ask.

“You know. Talking. Ugh. It’s nothing like a good fight. The target keeps changing.” She crosses her arms, still staring off into the trees. The sun shifts overhead, casting her face in shadow.

“That’s called a conversation,” he says gently. “Battles are battles, but a hard conversation… it can hurt.”

“Now you tell me,” says Jasper, and it takes him a solid minute before he realizes it’s a joke. He laughs, but it’s too late, and Jasper shakes her head. “Look. Steven. I -- I’m sorry.” The words are hasty and fumbled and fast, but he catches them, barely.

“You’re sorry?” Steven yelps. “But I’m the one who shattered you.” It still comes out like a dirty word, almost two years later. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to fully say it, if he’ll ever be able to act like it hasn’t scarred him. He hopes not. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

“You have. Just now, and before,” she says, shrugging. “But I only said I’d teach you to get you to fight me. And you did. And I lost.”

“Because I lost myself, I lost who I was, you didn’t make me --”

“But you were off-color,” growls Jasper. “You were -- what do you humans call it again --?”

“Sick,” he says softly. Such a small word. It barely begins to cover everything that went wrong two years ago, but he knows CPTSD won’t mean a thing to her, and that’s okay, that’s not what he’s here for.

“Sick,” she repeats. “And I --” She digs her hands into the tree bark, small flakes of it crumbling beneath her shaking hands. “I made you worse. So that I could get something I wanted. I failed to protect my Diamond from myself.”

“Jasper --” he gasps. “You’ve been blaming yourself? For me shattering you?”

“Someone’s got to do it,” she huffs.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, tries to take another deep breath, reminds himself to return to the thought of his gem as a centering point. He can do this. He can do this. It’s just, this isn’t how he thought it would go at all.

He closes his eyes. Remembers the way she screamed at him, punches in the gut, the face, the sides. Remembers the way she goaded, the way she pressed, how proud she looked of how frightening he’d become. He doesn’t know what to say. “I -- I was sick,” he manages finally. “I -- you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

He shakes his head at that. “But I’m still the one who did it. I still have to take responsibility for hurting you,” he demands.

Jasper gives him an appraising look. “Hmph,” she says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a hmph of agreement or a hmph of disdain. It’s hard to tell with Jasper. She holds the silence an uncomfortably long time before she says, “Maybe.”

“This isn’t how -- I wanted you to be mad at me,” Steven admits. “I wanted you to be pissed off! To tell me to get away from you!”

“I can still do that,” says Jasper, apparently turning the thought around in her mind. She chuckles, very slightly. “But if that’s an order, I’m ignoring it.”

He laughs. “You’re full of surprises, Jasper.”

“Am not.”

“You kind of are.”

“Don’t be so surprised then.” She picks up her pencil, returning to her sketch. Grass starts to grow beneath her rock, verdant blades springing up from dark soil.

“I thought you hated the local ecosystem.”

“It has its functions,” says Jasper begrudgingly. “If I leave the grass it provides better contrast for the rocks.” She picks up a different shade of green, adding highlights. “It’s still puny. But it has a purpose of its own.”

“What’s yours?” he asks, then kicks himself for getting so personal.

“Only if you tell me what yours is.”

Two years ago, the request would have paralyzed him. Two years ago, he’d have panicked, spun out with a lie, tried his best not to think about who he was and what he was supposed to do.

He just smiles. Breathes in the fresh green air, so different from the machine-smell of the big city. Beneath the green there’s a hint of salt, the promise of the sea. It smells like home.

“My purpose is to be Steven,” he says simply. “To be myself. To grow and change. To love myself, regrets and all.”

“Sounds all right,” says Jasper begrudgingly. “Sort of like mine these days.” She turns to him, frowning. “You got something to write on?”

“Uh, let me see.” He rummages in his bag. “Oh hey! I have my sketchbook, too.”

“Well?” Jasper says, pointing to the boulder before her. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He flips through his sketchbook, passing pages of silly Connie faces, a self-portrait in pink and white, Lion poses, CPH classic fanart. He settles on a blank page and Jasper shoves a green pencil into his hand. He feels smooth wood, the lightness of the organic drawing implement rounded and gentle in his palm. No sharp edges, no jagged fragments, no terrible weight dragging his clenched hand into the hot water. He blinks back tears.

The sunlight shifts, the golden hour arriving, brilliant light shafting through the leaves above and lining the forest floor in spun-gold glory. His hands don’t quite have this kind of magic in them, but he tries his best, his drawing including sketches of the rock, the grass, the trees beyond them. He adds a gleaming line of yellow at the edges. He’ll show it to Dr. Boverman at their next appointment.

“Not bad,” says Jasper, peering over his sketchbook. “You added the trees.”

“It just felt more complete that way,” he says. He glances at her drawing. The rock is resplendent, resting on gold-touched grass, light captured in patches against the mosses and lichens. “You can see all of this? It’s incredible, Jasper.”

“It’s just what it looks like,” she says stubbornly. “It’s a good challenge.”

“Like a conversation,” he says, half to himself.

“Something like that.” The breeze flutters past them, carrying faint birdsong, the far-off scent of the sea.

“Thanks for talking with me, Jasper. I know you didn’t have to.”

“Of course. I do what I want,” she replies, and her voice is gentler than he’s ever heard it.

#steven universe future #steven universe #suf #jasper #steven universe jasper #do not tag as ship!#the future #suf spoilers #steven universe spoilers #steven universe future spoiler #fanfoolishness' steven universe fic #fanfoolishness steven universe fic #fragments

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kylo-hen · 4 years

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Super Bloom Part 2

A/N: A lot of you guys seemed to like the first part and I don’t think I ever really intended on it being just a one-shot! Here’s part 2, let me know what you guys think and if you have any feedback! I would love to talk to you about Kylo, or any Adam character in general. Thanks!

Kylo Ren X Reader (Intergalactic Soulmate Au)

Summary: So Kylo Ren is your soulmate, but there is so much you don’t know about him yet.

Warnings: Still mostly Fluffy, a little angst if you look hard enough. Soulmate irrationality. Hopefully in the next installment we start to find smut!

The soft sweet breeze that blew just for the blossoms in the temple lulled me into a calm, and eventually between the sound of Kylo’s heartbeat reverberating in his chest and the comforting lull in the conversation, I fell asleep. I was only awoken by the subtle movements of the man that lay beneath me. Refuting his movements from the comforting position I burrowed into his chest for comfort.

“My apologies sweet girl,” His rich voice swept over my senses with the name that bubbled deep inside me, in places I’ve never before felt, “I can’t feel my arm anymore.” He muttered.

“We can’t have that, now can we?” I teased, sitting up to get another look at him, “How would you be able to protect me with one arm?” I goaded at his ego, anticipating a remark back on his skill, or maybe a jest on his health. Neither prepared me for the sweet rush of red that flooded his cheeks at my remark.

“We can’t,” He adjusted his position, “but I will always protect you.” He looked so intensely into my eyes and I could feel the truth in the statement. For the first time in my life, I felt absolutely safe, there was someone there for my well-being. For the first time. A small smile appeared on his face which brought me out of my thoughts, “what going on in your head sweet girl?” He tucked my hair back once again.

I hesitated to tell him my feelings, not wanting to show how inexperienced I was in the world of romance, or even just vulnerability. The only problem being him, his soft, expressive eyes make me want to spill my darkest secrets. They make me want to be better for him, to soften the exterior that had calloused from my loneliness. Divulge all of the melodic thoughts that danced in my brain while I locked myself away in the library, or all of the dark intruders late at night after everyone was asleep, or the private profound paradoxes that meddled into my consciousness. He was the other piece of my soul that found me in the vast galaxy, there should be no secrets, nor would there be.

“I have been alone for all my life,” I confessed to him, he looked surprised, yet pleased, “I have spent every year in the company of others, but been completely alone, and now?” I placed both my hands on his cheeks, cradling his face. His eyes shut, comfort washing over his features as I spoke, “Now I am whole, and I have never felt safer in my life.”

His eyes crept open, blinking back a mystery that lurked, “I would never let anything happen to you.” He connected our lips tentatively. I pushed back, allowing for the passion to tickle into our bones with every fervent push forward. His hands roamed once more and one landed in my hair, which locked us together, the other made its home on my back. The heat between us grew, his tongue prodding at my lip, which startled me. He pulled away again with a smirk, knowing my experience couldn’t allow me to go farther right now, at least not in the sacred grove that is.

“I wish we could lay beneath these trees forever,” He murmured softly below the wind, “But you wanted to change before dinner, and I have to finish my duties here.” He sat us up slowly, not to startle our senses by disrupting our blood flow. I sighed and wrapped my arms around his torso in protest.

“I thought you were in charge of everything, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” I pointed out in hopes he would let us lay under the sweet billowing trees for just a while longer. He merely chuckled at my thinly veiled attempts to stay.

“The only way to stay the supreme leader of the galaxy is by respecting the other planets when they’re complying.” He explained to me, and I only pouted, knowing he was right. “I can only use force and fear for so long before the galaxy sours.”

“Are you a benevolent leader?” I asked coyly.

“No,” he answered immediately, “Benevolence is for fools.” He explained, retreating into his shell somewhat. His features hardened and his eyes glazed to the past, his past, once more. I retreated, like him, away from the subject in hopes I didn’t make him too uncomfortable with the question.

I would like to know the man my soul has wound itself around a million times over, but simply that may lie waiting for the sake of our trust. I trust that he would not hurt me, I trust his ability of self-control that he has shown me, and I trust our souls to communicate that may not be visible to those around us. There is a storm brewing in this man’s chest, a dark windy cyclone circling his heart and I am now at the very center of it. Yet, I wish to be nowhere else than right here with him.

“Let us go then,” I said after some time still spent lounging in the light of our connection. “You’re right, I need to make myself presentable.” I groaned, not wanting to delve into the wide world of appropriate fashion. Some women studied the arts of fashion and exciting dress wear. I have spent most of my life in dresses for my sisters, and the other portion dressed like my father. There was the only security that I would not worry about what Kylo expects me to wear, as I am dressed casually today. I only hope he doesn’t expect me to own long lavish garments that took hours to construct in a distant galaxy. I am a woman of simple means.

“You would look presentable in anything sweet girl,” He murmured comfortingly, “For you, set the tone of every room you enter.” His words washed over me like a light warm blanket fresh from the sun. He knew exactly the worries that troubled my head and how to quell them. But I couldn’t relish in it for too long as Kylo wrapped his arms tightly around me to bring us both to standing.

Once I was on the ground, with my footing even and back to normal I gazed up at him. The sun shone from behind him and the trees, which he was slightly crouched under because of his towering height. His eyes searched for mine and when they met, he smiled lightly, allowing for his cheeks to wrinkle up endearingly. His face had such a capacity for pain for anguish, but also the bright burn of happiness. I smiled in return, reaching up to him to kiss the smile off his face. He allowed it, returning it even, with no hesitation or remorse.

Only then did he take my hand in his, guiding me from the sacred grove and into the temple once again. We were met with the sight of his six brooding guards, standing stock still ready at any moment to take down a threat. There were also two elders sitting on the far side of the room in meditation, calmly awaiting what I can only imagine was divine intervention. I had never been one for meditation, nor one for the stillness of the mind. I allowed the free flow of thoughts to come and go as the pleased ripping through my mind at imaginary lightspeed.

“Vicrul, Cardo,” Kylo commanded in ease of menacing power over his men, “Accompany her to her home.” He ordered once the two guards stood before him. He took a step closer, “If anything is to happen to her, it will be on your heads.” He instructed with the precision of a thousand knives slicing through the air and into their target. “Return her here before sundown for the feast.”

With his last instruction directed at the guards, he swiftly turned to me. His hands at my shoulders endearingly as he took in the sight of me once more. “Go get ready, and bring your things for an overnight stay on my ship.” He all but asked. “I would like to begin acquainting you with my lifestyle.” His hands tilting my head up to make it easier for him to kiss me again. Once that moment had passed, however, it was back to the chaos of the market streets accompanied by the two other strangers protecting me.

I learned very quickly that they were not talkative people. They were silent killers, intimidating in every sense of the word, and never in my life had a walk from the center of town been so quick. People moved away and stared, most of them knowing me my whole life, horrified for what the possible consequences I had created for myself. But no one dared to stop us or ask if I was alright, and if they did, I do not doubt that the two guards would slaughter them onsite per Kylo’s request.

So, with my head held high, I diligently swept the streets towards the home I had lived in all my life.

Once I arrived, Cardo and Vicrul of which I did not yet know the difference, murmured between themselves. The guard that carried the thick blaster attached to his left arm remained outside the door, and the other, the one from before with the long-curved blade, stayed by my side as I walked through the threshold.

My mother, who sat sewing in our sitting area shot up anxiously at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her small plump frame was somewhat relieved to see me but it was short-lived when she saw the guard tailing me from behind. She abandoned her small sewing project and wiped her hand on her small apron, anxiously pushing away her fizzed-out hair.

“Oh Hatchlette,” she sighed out as she rushed to give me a big hug, “Your father and I have been worried sick all day.” She swayed me side to side, fending off an onslaught of tears. There was a gruff noise from behind me, the guard was not amused. “Are you alright?” she held my face in her hands looking for signs of distress.

“No, mama.” I said bashfully, “I’m perfectly safe and healthy.” I reassured her moving into the sitting room farther, the guard shadowing me as I moved deeper into my home. “Where’s father?”

My mother only sighed as she moved into the kitchen to fill up a kettle with water, beginning to make tea for the guard in our presence. I found it quite endearing, the thought of a big brooding lethal guard like this having tea with my mother. “He is in the back, tending to the garden.” My mother said somberly, as my father only weeds the gardens when he is under great stress. I can’t even imagine what he has been thinking about as I lounge in bliss with Kylo. A rush of guilt began to eat at my heart from the inside out at the thought of making my father worry.

“I should let him know I’m alright but,” I turned to the guard behind me, “you should probably stay in here.” I felt bad for telling him what to do, but I don’t think my father would be more reassured by the brooding presence of Kylo’s men. My mother returned to the room looking between myself and the man shadowing me. “While I speak with father, do you still have Sennica’s nice dress?” I asked, knowing well Sennica had left it for me once I found my soulmate. It was the of the few dresses Anya was never allowed to touch. It was made for Sennica but now it was just mine, and for the first time in years the dusty thing would have its use.

“Of course, Hatchlette,” she spoke confidently with her endearment slipping off the tongue easily as it had since I was a child, “Go tend to your father, I’ll make tea for our guest.” Ever the host my mother moved to the kitchen once more to make tea for the guard to have him comfortable. I moved outside, half expecting the shadow to continue his protection there, but surprised when I saw him politely sitting in a chair near the middle of the room. I knew Kylo would have probably been angry for his new relaxation, but it was something I appreciated, as I knew this would be the most peaceful route.

I opened the door that leads me outside, and as soon as I had stepped out, I could hear the frustrated sounds of my father weeding in the garden. He was too entranced to notice my newfound presence, only focused on the task he adopted to ease his mind.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll pull up the entire garden.” At the sound of my teasing, he shot his gaze to me, ceasing his activity immediately. He stood rushing to pull me into a hug, similarly to my mother only a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, my little bud,” He comforted himself with my presence and his hands tremored as the hug faded, “I’m so sorry.” At his apology I stilled, becoming unnerved.

“What could you have to be sorry about father?” I asked plainly, as I had no foreseeable cause of his guilt. I found my soulmate, I have been having a wonderful day, it’s been incredible.

“I should have never let you go with that awful man,” His hands gripped at my arms tightly, and I became uncomfortable under his gaze. I moved away from him allowing the metaphoric and physical distance to grow heavy, “I cannot imagine the horrors you have witnessed.” He assumed so much, so much about the man who possessed a tenderness that I had never seen displayed on this planet. No soul had existed as deep and as wide as Kylo’s soul, and it was mine to keep, mine to protect.

“No, don’t say that,” I defended against his accusations, “I have had the most wonderful day father.” The light in my chest returned as I recounted the tender kisses and soft words exchanged under the sway of the blossoms overhead. “Please, don’t say that,” I begged softly for his approval.

“You don’t know, little bud, I have kept the darkness from you for so long.” He persisted moving towards me once again, trying and failing to have me see his views. He didn’t need to understand why my soul was made for Kylo, why we belonged side by side, but he could never make me change my mind. “There is so much you do not know, about him, the empires, the wars!” he emphasized.

“Then let me learn it from him!” I interrupted, no longer allowing him to decide for me. “I have been chosen for him, father! For this life, I will live at his side.” I began to retreat inside, not wanting to indulge him in more fruitless arguments, “I chose that willingly now, and no one else can make that choice for me.” I hoped that would help him, I hoped he wouldn’t hate me, or judge me, or think I was just some stupid girl following him blindly. I am not blinded by love, but love has allowed me to remove my blinders. I can see him truly for more than just what he shows others. I don’t know why he has been chosen for me yet but I am thankful. My father’s disappointment would break my heart, but Kylo’s absence would crush my soul. I reached the door back inside and turned back to look at my father, “Do not make me choose between my family and my soul.” Then I went inside and left my father to think of his words with the weeds pulled from the garden.

Inside the house, I found my mother laying out the dress I had requested while speaking with the guard, that was sat, quite prettily, in a seat drinking tea. I would have to applaud Kylo on the manners instilled in this man. It was not expected of him to entertain my mother in the way he has.

“Hatchlette?” My mother called out for me when she heard the door shut, “Is that you?”

“Yes Mama, it’s me,” I spoke softly, walking into the room and focusing on the dress she had hanging near the small staircase. It was a cream color with blue vines of flowers on it. There was soft lace on some of the edges and it made me feel soft, dainty. I can still remember when my mother brought it home for Sennica to wear to meet Patrik’s family. It was such a good luck charm that she hadn’t the heart to take it with her when she left. She saw the way my eyes widened like the moon and sparkled like the stars when I saw it. She knew that if anyone would do the dress it’s justice it was me, and for the first time since leaving her body it would be put to use again.

“Sennica will be thrilled.” My mother came from behind me and spoke soothingly. Her chin rested easily on my shoulder, looking over at the dress. “Shall we braid some of the wildflowers in your hair?” She offered, knowing I used to ask for it on every special occasion I could find as a child. “I think it would be a nice homage to your home as you leave it behind.” She said without making me feel guilty. She knew this was the natural way of my life, the way it’s meant to be. Yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to be anything but kind, to be anything but her true self.

“Yes, yes we should,” I confirmed, turning to face her once again. She suddenly looked much wiser than her years before her as she took in my features with pride, “What are you doing Mama?”

“I’m admiring my work,” its an old joke she had made maybe a thousand times, and yet she managed a chuckled from both of us, “We will miss you when you are gone, but you have always been too large for this tiny planet.” Her encouraging words quelled the fire of fear and doubt that my father had lit outside. I knew at that moment that I needed to blaze ahead, no doubts, no fears, only love and light. There is beauty in the new chapter, there is love, there is respect. With that, I climbed the stairs to a bedroom I had lived in my whole life. A room once home to three, then only two, down to one, and soon it will be empty. It will be ready to start anew, as I am.

My mother and I had to work diligently to get me ready, having squandered most of my day with Kylo, the sunset was fast approaching. The braids my mother made had small bits of white and blue wildflowers, that matched the dress, woven into it for effect. She helped me gather some things to stay with Kylo for the night, and she even smeared some colored creams of her own on my face to fix some of my blemishes.

When fighting against the time was nearly up, and my appearance much more graceful than before, I could hardly recognize myself. I was beautiful, and I could hardly wait for Kylo to see me like this, finally presentable for the man I wanted. As I descended the stairwell with my mother the living room was tense, as my father sat opposite the guard that had now abandoned the teacup in place for his blade. My mother only sighed and I made my way towards the side of the room with the exit.

“Wait!” My father called out, “No goodbyes?” He asked solemnly and for some reason, it sparked an irritable fire in me.

“I will see you tomorrow, I am only gone for the night.” I snapped back, harsher than I intended. “I only hope this time will help you see things from my point of view,” I suggested at the man, stubborn like myself, sitting across the room. The guard now stationed to my right began to move me out the door.

“I could only suggest the same for you little bud.” My father bit back, always one to get the last word. It only spurred me further out the door, where the second guard stood watch. The satchel I carried was taken from me by the one stationed outside, to alleviate the stress put on my shoulders. I wondered if that was part of the training, or if he had been trying to suck up to Kylo through me. It didn’t matter, because I was glad to have them flank me on either side, intimidating the masses out of the way of us. The walk was just as fast, if not faster, than the one earlier in the evening.

Once we made it to the temple, the large doors opened and the smell of the feast lingered on each of our senses. The men diligently helped me up the small steps as I adjusted to the small heel on my shoes that had slowed my pace. I would have to notify Kylo of their dedication to not only my comfort but my wellbeing. I hoped they were handsomely compensated for their troubles.

The guard’s dedication mattered until the sight of the guest of honor came into view. He was faced away from me, speaking with an elder about an old portrait that hung in the large room where the feast was held. He was pensive, stiff, commanding, everything about him sent a shiver up my spine. He had kept his helmet removed out of respect for the temple. He only turned when the sound of the door shutting behind us reverberated throughout the room.

When Kylo did turn, his eyes landed on me first, all trepidation and anger from my father’s actions, or my own insecurities melted away. His brown eyes softened, his normally pouted lips upturned in glee, his hands immediately unclenched from his side. All conversations he had ceased, as the guards and elders found entertainment with one another and Kylo moved towards me. His hand outstretched reaching for mine, as he asked the silent question, Will you come with me?

And there is no hesitation as I lay my hand in his palm. I met his gaze head-on and answered the unasked question the only way I knew possible, Yes.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #reader insert #fluff #angst if you squint #trying to establish relationship so they can BANG #sorry i can only write soft men #soft kylo #daddy issues???#soulmate au

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just-stop · 3 years

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From AFLW to roller derby, experts say its time to take concussion in women's sport seriously

When the Crows chase their third AFLW premiership on Saturday, captain Chelsea Randall will be watching from the sidelines.

A concussion from a collision during last week's preliminary final left her ruled out of the match.

It's a bitter sweet way to end a season — but as Sarah McCarthy knows, a concussion can have much longer consequences

In 2016, Sarah was the jammer for her Sydney roller derby team, skating at high speed in the league's Grand Final, aiming to get past the opposition and score points.

Risks of contact sport

Sarah McCarthy received a knock to the head during a roller derby match.

"I was a few feet in front of the pack, looking over my shoulder," she tells ABC RN's Sporty.

As she skated, a competitor's elbow hit Sarah's neck and jaw hard and she crashed to the ground.

She doesn't remember if she passed out or not, but recalls feeling briefly sick.

She got up, sat out for awhile, but later re-joined the bout, feeling reasonably ok.

It was Sarah's second concussion that week, having had an earlier blow at training.

The next few months passed in a blur of sickness, dizziness and ringing ears.

"I could barely make it past lunch time without falling asleep. My head felt like it was in a vice 24 hours a day," she says.

What was worse, says Sarah, was the memory loss, heightened emotions, and constant haze in her mind as she struggled to manage a big work project.

Sarah's experience is not out of the ordinary. Experts say sportswomen are at higher risk of concussion than male athletes, and the effects of concussion in women tend to be more severe.

Sarah still lives with the ongoing after effects of her concussion even today.

Almost five years on, Sarah continues to live with the implications of Post Concussion Syndrome.

"I struggled verbally, and I still do now if I have a poor night's sleep," Sarah says.

"It's almost like I'm sitting on a chair in a room with a curtain around me and all of my vocabulary is just beyond the curtain. And I can't reach it or I use the wrong words. I forget people's name all the time," she says.

"I'm fatigued every day. I still can't exercise. I can't handle stress, I can't handle light, I can't handle sounds."

What happens when you're concussed?

Dr Adrian Cohen, an emergency and trauma physician who researches concussion prevention, says concussion is not as simple as was once thought.

He says concussion results in less blood flow to the brain.

This means brain cells, called neurons, don't get enough oxygen and glucose. They also suffer a "structural deformity".

Basically, Dr Cohen says, the brain has a "metabolic crisis" and neurons stop working properly.

Why is concussion more common in women?

We don't have enough data on the size of the problem, Dr Cohen says.

But research and scrutiny of concussion in women in sport is growing — largely in the wake of developments in elite men's sport such as the AFL and NFL.

"Doctors like myself who work in this area are definitely seeing it more often and we're seeing it with more severity," Dr Cohen says.

He says women sustain more concussions than men in high-impact sports such as rugby league, rugby union and Australian rules football. Women also take longer to recover.

One possibility is that women may be more likely to report concussion.

But Dr Cohen says there are complex physiological factors at play.

"There are structural differences between men and women's brains," he says.

"They actually have a slightly faster metabolism than male brains, and they have slightly greater oxygen flow to the head.

"The cells themselves can be thought of as being slightly hungrier. So in the context of an injury that disrupts the supply of glucose and oxygen, it can help explain why they suffer more damage."

He also says women are joining high impact sports without years of tackle training and have had less opportunity to build up the strong neck muscles crucial in protecting against impact.

Dr Cohen says these factors are not an argument for reducing women's participation in contact sport — the benefits, he says, far outweigh the risks — but he is urging for new ways to minimise those risks.

"We have to outlaw illegal play that causes damage, we have to get people off the field when they have an injury, we have to recognise concussion," he says.

He is part of a team developing a new device which he says can quickly and accurately assess a player for concussion.

"Instead of just asking somebody whether they're okay, and putting [them] through a 10 minute test, which seems fundamentally flawed at the moment, we have got to put this in the field of objectivity."

Concussion and migranes

Dr Rowena Mobbs, a Macquarie University neurologist who researches and treats the effects of concussion in sportspeople, says there is truth to suggestions that women experience concussion symptoms more severely.

"But there is this really important overlap of chronic migraine after trauma, and the term for this is post-traumatic headache," she says.

"When we talk about migraine ... they're the same multitude of symptoms that can occur in concussion.

"So you can be dizzy and clouded in your thinking, lethargic and have double vision. And we know that women are at three times the risk of chronic migraine than men."

A woman on roller skates playing roller derby can be seen flying up the court.

Experts say more research is needed into concussion in sportswomen.(Liam Mitchell Photography )

She suggests there could be an association between chronic migraine syndrome and concussion, a kind of double whammy for women.

"It's really a complex area," Dr Mobbs says.

"It's fairly new to research because, unfortunately, there's been so much preferred research in men in sport, and we're only just now approaching female concussion."

In Australia, the Sports Brain Bank works on diseases such as chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) and other brain disorders associated with previous concussions or head impacts.

Dr Cohen says there are several Australian sports women who've pledged to donate their brain to the Sports Brain Bank.

"But in general terms, these women won't have been playing the games for as long, and at as high a level," he says.

He says concussion and its long-term consequences "are a numbers game".

"The more impacts to the head you have, the more likely you are to suffer short, medium and long-term consequences. Therefore, the more likely it is to show up as CTE. But we're going to be seeing it in women unfortunately, in the not too distant future."

Invisible injuries

Concussion rules are changing in Australian football codes — the rules that mandated Randall miss the AFLW grand final were brought in earlier this year.

Dr Mobbs welcomes these new rules, but hopes the conversation in elite sport will extend to how concussion is managed at training and in community sport.

In 2019, the Australian Institute of Sport released an updated set of concussion guidelines to improve player safety and address rising concerns in the community around the links between concussion and CTE, which has been linked to dementia and behavioural problems.

Dr Mobbs wants measures like restricting heading the ball in soccer training to be considered.

"We must look after people's brains," she says.

"We can preserve what we love about the sports, they can still be played hard, but it just means that we've got to all get together and think of ways we can preserve brain health for these players."

Sarah McCarthy wishes she'd been stopped from returning to play in the 2016 grand final, and regrets not taking time to immediately rest after the injuries.

She has advice for other people who experience concussion.

"First and foremost, stop everything - stop," she says.

"If you can, stay in a dark room, don't do anything that's too mentally taxing. Don't exercise.

"If I had taken that four to six weeks to rest [and] not have too much mental and emotional stimulation, I think my recovery would have been a lot quicker."

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dragolianx · 4 years

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How I’d rewrite Miraculous Ladybug a.k.a Miraculous Ladybug Final Mix

Before I start I just want to say, I actually loved this show. I always appreciate shows that establish their own universe separate from the big publishers. Ben 10, Generator Rex, Big Hero 6, hell My Life as a Teenage Robot does this well.

When I started Miraculous I had high hopes and season 1 definitely delivered. However, season 2 had some issues and season 3 only made it worse.

Say what you want about the show, but there was a noticeable shift in quality between season’s 1 and 2 and an even bigger drop in season 3.

I won’t touch season 1 since it did its job well. It established the world and explained some of the rules and lore about Kwami and Miraculous powers.

Now the end of season 1 gave us new antagonist in Lila. Her arrival shook up the established flow of the school. She was the new kid so she hooked everyone with stories of traveling around the world. However she had a habit of lying about herself to make herself seem interesting.

She lied about knowing ladybug and about being the latest in a family of superheroes.

Marinette knows that she’s lying because Lila claims to be Ladybug’s BFF, but she never met Lila before that day.

We then get the episode Volpina and so far this was the closest Ladybug came to surrendering. The only other akuma to get close to getting her earrings was Lady Wifi at this point. She knew how to manipulate people, even if she was sloppy with her lies at first.

When season 2 starts however she’s no where to be seen until the season finale, Hero’s Day. This is where I’d make my first change.

Season 2

Make Lila stick around for season 2 instead of adding her back at the end of the season

Her absence is attributed to her “Traveling around the world” when she’d really just at home skipping school.

Her mom believes that the school is closed due to constant akuma attacks. The problem with this is that the school would most definitely have called her about her daughter’s absence. Or at the every least gave her a courtesy call about how the trip is going. It also make’s Lila’s mom seem incompetent because she doesn’t bother to go her kid’s school.

If there’s ever a parent teacher conference this lie would be easily dealt with.

Instead have the season 3 premiere episode “Chameleon” be the season 2 premiere. Instead of having the class change the seating order because she came back have her manipulate it so that she’s sitting next to Adrian and that Marinette is sent to the back.

Instead of Adrian telling Marinette to take the high road, have him warn her that without actual proof she’d just be isolated even more by the class. Adrian then promises to help Marinette whenever he can.

This worked in the episode because it showed just how persuasive she could be and how she could sway people she barely knows.

The episode would play out the same way, except at the end Bustier has Adrian stay where he is because she insists that he be a “good role model” and help Lila because of her “Disabilities”

In the end, the seating order is changed permanently and Marinette is moved to the back of the class. Lila begins to wedge herself between Marinette and the class.

Other big changes I’d make to season 2 would be moving Zombizou closer to the episode Despair Bear. At least make them be within an episode of each other. These will be the seeds for Chloe’s redemption, which can work in the show if Astruc would get his head out of his ass and learn how to write his damn characters.

Going off topic for a bit, but Kevin Levin from Ben 10 has tried to kill Ben for most of the original series run. After his mutation he tries to frame Ben for crimes and then off him when they were dragged into a gladiator match. He even teamed up with Vilgax to trap Ben in the Null Void and take the Omnitrix.

When Alien Force rolls around Kevin still tries to kill Ben, but when he meets a Majester Plumber and witnesses him die because of weapon deal gone bad, the same deal that Kevin set up, he realizes that he could be good and teams up with Ben and Gwen.

The same can be said for Chloe.

The most she’s done was prank Marinette, get Alya suspended, and plagiarize Marinette’s work.

As an antagonist she sucked. Hard.

Over the course of season 2 Chloe should steadily get better at not bossing people around and stop playing the “Mayor’s Daughter” card for her own selfish reasons.

At the same time, we should get small hints at Lila driving a wedge between Marinette and the class.

It could just be her mentioning how flaky Marinette can be because she’s never on time for events or just disappears sometimes.

It’d be hard for Marinette to counter this without revealing herself so the class begins to question her.

The season plays differently with Chloe mellowing out and Lila planting seeds of doubt.

Another thing worth mentioning is how Adrian/Chat Noir factors into the show.

In season 3 we see him miss his mom more, but it comes out of nowhere. We the audience know his mom is dead and assume he’s sad about it, but we don’t get actual scenes about this until Gorizilla and it’s not touched again until Felix.

In season 2 we should get more of how Adrian handles his isolation and how the loss of his mom affects him.

Have him lean on Marinette for support like how he asked her to lean on him for help with Lila.

Also have Chat Noir more involved with the whole temp hero thing and have Master Fu keep him in the loop.

Balance seems to be a central theme to the show, but Ladybug seems to be holding all the cards between the duo and Chat Noir is just in the background.

This makes him seem more like a sidekick instead of a partner since he’s almost never consulted when it comes to choosing heroes.

When Anansi happens have Adrian pick Nino to use the Turtle Miraculous and save Alya

The same can be said for how Chloe gets the Bee Miraculous in Style Queen.

He’s known her the longest and sees that she’s been making an honest effort to change, so as Chat Noir her gives her the Bee Miraculous.

This way Chloe gets to have her secret identity and prove herself to Ladybug and Chat Noir as a worthy hero.

Queen Wasp is removed from the series entirely

Maledictator happens because Audrey threatens to go back to New York and Chloe doesn’t know if she wants to go with her or not because she knows she wants a better relationship with her mom, but she’s also making progress at being a better person at school.

Lila sets off the celebration for Chloe leaving and that make Chloe want to leave because she thought she was getting better, but it seems as if her efforts weren’t good enough. Marinette doesn’t participate and defends Chloe since she hasn’t bothered Marinette or anyone else for the last few weeks and Lila takes this opportunity to make it seem like Marinette wants Chloe to stick around and bully the class.

Instead of defending herself Marinette chases after Chloe, and Adrian follows soon after once he hears the news.

The episode play nearly the same way until Chat Noir get whammied by Maledictator and becomes an actual cat.

Ladybug then gives Chloe the Bee Miraculous again and the episode plays out the same way until the end where Marinette offers to be Chloe’s friend and she accepts

Event play out the same leading up to heroes day and the season ends the same way. However, as a reward for their bravery in facing Hawkmoth and Mayura: Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Queen Bee get to keep their Miraculous

Season 3

Since we moved Chameleon up a season and removed Queen Wasp, we’ll give those two episodes to season 3 as exposition episodes. One where Fu explains in detail to the current holders what happened to the order.

Have it be different from Feast sense the whole reason was Ludacris to begin with. Introduce the concept of an order dedicated to chaos that wants to use the Mirculous for various reasons. The temple is attacked and Fu managed to get away with the main miracle box with the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous in it.

We also get Fu choosing Ladybug to be the new guardian if something should happen to him with the other heroes agreeing that it should be her.

She begins her training after this episode

In another episode explain what happened to Adrian’s mom

We know that she has some sort of sickness keeping her in a coma and that only the Miraculous can fix it. We know because Adrian mentions how Natalie showed the same symptoms his mom did before she “died”

Have Gabriel remember what caused her to use the Peacock and how he found them to begin with. Have him study the grimoire to learn how to use Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous to save his wife.

Remove Animaestro since it adds nothing to the plot and was just an excuse for Astruc to shamelessly insert himself into his own show.

As a writer this is a major sin if done wrong. And while other cartoon creators have done this, the make their appearances cameos and don’t take up a majority of the episode complaining

The love Hexagon remains mostly the same, but Marinette doesn’t get super jealous of Kagami and ends becoming friends with her after getting to know her better. Meanwhile have Adrian subconsciously react to Luka’s presence around Marinette and have him question why when he thinks he’s dead set on loving Ladybug.

The episodes leading up to Ikari Gozen remain the same except Kagami doesn’t reveal her identity in the fight and Chat Noir gives her the Dragon Miraculous before she get captured by her mother.

Chat Blanc would be completely different. Instead of a what if episode, we have Chat Noir gets akumatized because it’s the anniversary of his mother’s death and he can’t hide how sad he is. Hawkmoth capitalizes on this and Chat Blanc is born. The other heroes show up to deal with the threat and the new reserves show up to help as well.

Chat Blanc almost sets off a world wide Cataclysm, but Viperion uses second chance to warn them. Have Monkey King disrupt Chat Blanc’s powers and then have Queen Wasp paralyze him so Ladybug can find the Akuma and cure it.

Felix plays differently as well. For starters have him not be related to Adrian and make him look different from him entirely. Felix and the other Quantic kids can be in a different class altogether. His introduction can play into the whole Lila situation as he and the other quantic kids don’t buy into her lies, but they can’t prove any of them are false.

For this to work even more, Lila’s lie of knowing Prince Ali doesn’t come up since she didn’t leave the school.

Now comes the big episode of the season, Ladybug.

This episode was good for so many reasons, but this time we’ll up the ante.

Lila still plants the necklace and test answers, but this time she goes further.

When they’re sent to the principal’s office she throws herself down the stairs can then claims that Marinette pushed her.

This time the evidence is damning and Lila’s mom is called. With the actual scrapes and bruises to help sell the story along with the test answers being put in Marinette’s bag and the Lila’s necklace in her locker Marinette is expelled and the same events as the episode take place, but this time Nino isn’t akumatized because it’s implied that he’s known Marinette for a long time so he should know she’d never get physical with someone or cheat (But she has taken the occasional cell phone)

Alya looks for clues to prove that Marinette is innocent and Nino joins along with Adrian.

The trail goes cold and then the episode pans out the same way. In the end Chloe makes a big scene about Marinette being expelled and find proof that she didn’t cheat on the test and didn’t steal the necklace, but can’t ultimately prove that Marinette didn’t push Lila. She then uses the “Mayor’s Daughter” card to get Marinette back in school, but the damage has been done. Most of the class believes Lila over Marinette and begin to isolate her. Although, Alya decides to finally do some fact checking on Lila after the string of incidents that morning and finds out that she’s been lying. She apologizes for how she’s been acting and nukes the ladyblog since she deems it “tainted” and commits to the school blog.

This shows a great deal of growth for Alya since he doesn’t feel the need to follow superheroes since she is one, and is willing to give up something for her friend’s sake.

After all of this happens Marinette is stripped of her class rep title and the Class nominates Lila.

Hearthunter and Miracle Queen don’t happen at all sense Chloe is fully redeemed at this point. Instead, Lila returns as Volpina to lure out Fu since Hawkmoth managed to figure out that he was in town after Hero’s Day.

Volpina creates an illusion to lure him out, but Fu realizes this and runs to find Marinette while in disguise. He gives her the Miracle Box and he loses his memories. Marinette stashes the box in her room before trying to get him somewhere safe, but when he gets to the train station he’s Akumatized by Hawkmoth and Ladybug and the other heroes must fight their mentor.

After the battle Marinette calls Marianne to take care of Fu and the two leave Paris while the other heroes watch the train depart with heavy hearts.

My biggest gripes with the show are how the character are never allowed to grow and how much the status quo remains mostly the same at the end of each episode.

Almost none of what happens in a regular episode changes the flow of the story, and only the season premieres and finales seem to hold any weight. Not to mention Astruc’s obvious bias towards certain characters. He expects Marinette to be super mature, but she’s 14. He stated that he hates Chloe and Felix and goes out of his way to treat them like garbage.

In Felix’s debut episode he had him make an enemy with damn near the entire cast and even had Ladybug deck him.

Astruc for the most part doesn’t change anything and plays things too safe, unless it’s pointless fanservice that just serves to anger the fans even more.

I rewrote the last two season of Miraculous because for the most part, it’s become a sinking ship that could have easily been fixed.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous season 3 #miraculous ladybug rerwite #ml salt #Miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupen-chang #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #chloe burgeois #gabriel agreste #ladybug #chat noir #carapace #rena rouge #queen bee #Astruc can't write for shit

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cherryyharryy · 5 years

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Burning Words

Chapter Three: I’m the one who grades you

WC: 6.4k

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The air is sticky, humid, suffocating. The sun barely crosses the horizon, but it feels like it’s been on duty for hours. I tug at the collar of my sweatshirt to circulate some air between my skin and clothes, but I think it just makes things worse.

My apartment isn’t too far from class. Technically off campus, but close enough that I don’t have to worry about owning a car. But days like these make me wish I had one. I run my sleeve over my forehead and slow my gait once I’m in view of all the early risers who are scrambling to get to class on time.

I reach the English building, rounding the corner once I’m inside to see Harry and Danielle arguing beside the door to our class. I swallow past a dry throat and take a few steps back so I’m out of sight, checking the time on my phone. It’s two ‘til eight. My nerves prickle with the idea of being late, but each time I think about walking by those two, my legs refuse to move.

He’s animated, gesticulating with purpose, brows knitted together, ascetic, defeated. Despite the empty halls, I cannot decipher a single word, only strings of half-bitten syllables coming from the both of them. Something about manipulation and did you seriously think and you owe me. Danielle remains calm, at least from what I can tell of the back of her head, while Harry’s face grows red.

I only watch for a few minutes until someone exits a room opposite our class. Harry and Danielle separate on impulse. She’s the first to leave, storming off down the hall with her hair flowing behind her. Harry stays put, his head bent at the neck, staring at the ceiling. He’s frozen for a moment or two, and then he shakes out his shoulders, sucks in a breath, and heads into class.

I slip inside, and take my usual seat not long after, and fan myself discreetly with the note cards I made last night. Dr. Pierce begins class today, straying off topic as I’ve found he’s keen on doing, until Harry redirects the discussion by clearing his throat.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Styles has your graded reports to hand back.”

“Most everyone did exceptionally well.” Harry steps back to the desk and gathers a stack of papers. I gulp. “Some of you however, didn’t seem to grasp the instructions...I hope you can learn from this mistake before any future assignments.”

Was he looking at me? Was he talking to me? Surely the shake of his head was intended for someone else. Maybe the guy in the back who falls asleep each class, or the girl who’s missed three weeks in a row. Maybe—

“As I was saying, if you have any questions or concerns, drop by my office sometime this week.”

He straightens his posture and begins reciting the names of everyone in the room. One by one, students shuffle to the front. When my name is called, I might as well be marching up to a guillotine.

I know I did well. Jessie read it, my mom, Ms. Bortnick, the student writing center...other than a handful of grammar mistakes...this was just a book report after all. Why am I so nervous?

“Remember, if you’d like to discuss your grade you can see me during my office hours. And my office hours only.”

Don’t expect a perfect score, don’t expect a perfect score...

Fuck. Red marks are everywhere, between the lines, in the margins, and topping it all off is a giant 27 circled at the top. No. Fuck no.

I look up and Harry is already pulling up a powerpoint, ready to continue the discussion on The Catcher in the Rye, but I can barely make it back to my seat. Where is my seat? What planet am I on? What the hell is happening? Hypothermia, suffocation, immolation...which one, pick one, it doesn’t matter anyway.

I find my chair and sink down. He’s cruel, possibly morbid, because this is a sick joke. And I don’t want to hear him or see him or feel his movements through the vibrations when he’ll undoubtedly find his way to my row and tap on the desk, so I pull out my headphones like the kind of student my grade represents and pretend the last five minutes did not just happen.

***

It’s the guy who chews his gum unreasonably loud that nudges me awake as he’s leaving. He looks back over his shoulder, smacking away, to see that I get up. Everyone’s just an ass today. And there to greet me upon knuckling away the fogginess in my eyes is Harry’s handwriting in what might as well be my blood. I don’t even want to know what horrible thing I did to deserve this.

“Excuse me, Dr. Pierce?”

He’s cleaning up his desk, smiling when he looks up to me. “What can I help you with?”

I look down at my report, and hold it out between pinched fingers like it’s toxic. “M—my grade. It’s...bad. Really bad,” I dry laugh. “I’ve never done this...bad.”

“Well, Mr. Styles graded these reports so you’re better off asking him. You can leave it with me, but it’ll be awhile before I get a chance to look at it. I still have last week’s quizzes to finish up for you all.” He’s still smiling. This is just a joke for all of them, isn’t it? “But he’ll have whatever answers you’re looking for.”

I turn, slowly, like a child in trouble, to see Harry standing by the door. His shoulders slouch unusually low and rigid, and his nose is a hot red. He’s toeing at the ground while students file out of the room.

I’ve only ever approached him one other time, and it was just because Dr. Pierce had to step out for a phone call. A couple of weeks ago, we had to partner up for a writing assignment, and to no one’s surprise, our uneven numbered class left me standing alone by my desk, flashbacks from middle school invading my brain.

With great reluctance, I inched my way to the front where Harry was sat at Pierce’s desk, busy grading some of our work. I cleared my throat which earned his attention, and bitterly told him of my dilemma, and how I had no problem in working alone.

“No, that’s not necessary. We can find you a pair to work with. You can just divide the work up between three people.”

He wore a smile as he led the way back towards the class, clapping his hands to silence the chatter.

“We’re going to have one group of three, any volunteers?”

If a meteor had been headed for Earth in the very place I was standing, I wouldn’t have moved.

“Anyone?” He asked, when not a single pair made a move to accept me. “It’ll be less work on you individually,” he bargained.

He had turned to me, keeping his smile up as best he could and motioned for me to follow him. If I was someone else, someone who didn’t fight off a panic attack each time I had to type out an email or place my order at a restaurant, I would have spoken up. I would have told Harry—Mr. Styles—that I didn’t need his help. That I was fine by myself. Or that I could have found my own group. That I really, really didn’t want to work with Danielle, despite not having a reason.

But I am me, unfortunately, so in a blur of a memory I want to forget, the next thing I remember is sliding in a desk beside the girl who kissed Harry on the cheek when he bent down to pick up her pencil.

He blushed and told her to stop. She didn’t, going in for another before he could say anything else. The other girl just cooed at them like they were puppies, and for once I was thankful no one pays attention to me, or else my eye roll might have rubbed them the wrong way.

“This is due before class is over, so get to work.”

And, as expected, as my life typically turns out, I was responsible for the entire assignment. I wrote nearly three pages worth of quotes from To Kill a Mockingbird while Danielle talked about Harry and how cute he is, and how good of a grade she’s gonna get, and how he’s just too sweet for his own good.

“Do you need anything, y/n?” Harry’s voice shakes me from my thoughts.

I look around to see we’re the only two left. He’s closing out of the powerpoint, raising his brows at me from behind the desk.

I shake my head. No. This is not what I want. Fuck. I’m back at my seat, shoving this wretched report into my bag. He says my name as I’m leaving but I don’t bother looking back.

•••

I stuff my change into my purse and bid the cashier a soft goodbye. My steps heading out of the grocer’s are timid, avoiding slick spots of water that customers drag in from the rain. A woman steps through the door, the bell shrieking in her presence as she shakes the rain off her coat. I brush what I can off my arm. She sees me but doesn’t say a word.

A clap of thunder greets me once I’m outside. It’s chilly, and yet I still feel like it’s summer. And here I thought that Georgia weather was crazy.

Bustlings of mothers and their small children, college kids, and an elderly man hurry past me while I secure myself under the green and white striped awning. Curtains of water pour down from all four sides; it disrupts my view. I have four plastic grocery bags gripped in my hands, a headache looming at the base of my neck, and the growing acceptance that there is no way I am going to make it to the student lounge unscathed by Mother Nature: I had forgotten my umbrella.

With a grumble I’ll share with Jessie tomorrow, I burst through the shroud of freezing rain, only to plow right into a hard body.

“M’so sorry, sorry,” I throw out. I earn a slew of curse words from the old man, and with nothing more in return, I am left to scramble along the sidewalk for the contents of my bags alone. Thick, icy drops hammer onto me.

Until they’re not.

A veil of rain encloses around me. When I look up the clouds are gone, but a large, leopard print umbrella has taken their place.

What pains me more than the source itself, is the tingling electric shocks pricking me from the inside-out at the sound of a deep, British accent. It vibrates, I conclude, and I feel it in my ribs, strumming, burning, like making a snowball with your bare hands. The sound is conflicting. I don’t know if his voice is noise or not. I swallow and yank a box of tampons off the gritty sidewalk. He says my name.

And I don’t bother to look up, hoping he’ll carry on and leave me to endure the rest of this embarrassing moment by myself. I’ve had practice. I’m good at it. But then he’s reciting my name once again, and I don’t know how I feel about a man using what is mine to get my attention. I sigh roughly, and peer up to Harry hovering over me.

He’s in nice clothes, hair plastered to his face, translucent skin, red nose. His mouth moves, but all I hear is rain. Lightning strikes off in the distance and I wonder what his eyes would look like in the heat. I’m still kneeling on the ground when he crouches down.

“I’m busy, so if you don’t—”

“Do you need help?”

“No.” I have to crawl and stretch my arms in different directions to gather the rest of my things. He does the best he can to follow me with the umbrella, and once I’m back on my feet with my arms full, he steps forward so I’m protected once again. I want to cry.

“Do you—would you like a ride home?”

“No.” I make it three steps before he’s back by my side and shielding me again.

“It looks like you do.”

“Then you’re obviously not looking hard enough. I don’t need your help.” I linger for a second, my face scorched with a black heat, realizing those are the words I chose, before attempting to step away.

His cologne persists even through the downpour, growing stronger as he repeats his actions and brings the two of us together once more, only this time he cradles my elbow with his free hand and urges me to move out of the way of two teenage girls. “We’re blocking traffic.”

“You are. I need to go, so if you don’t mind…” I wriggle my arm and he slips his hand off my skin.

“The walk back to the dorms will take you twenty minutes.”

“That would be a problem if I was going to the dorms. I have my own apartment.”

“Where—wait—Stone Bridge? By that small park? That’s even farther.” His accent is thicker, ellipsed and coated in syrup. I blame the rain. “Let me drive you over there.”

I’m soaked, so much so that my bones are getting wet. No one looks good in the rain. But he does and I know I do not. And he teaches literature, I do not. He has a car and I do not. He is something and I am... I’m backing up now. I’m confident that my soul has left my body and is hovering over me, shaking her head, not wanting to associate herself with me any longer. I wonder who he would pick to protect from the rain now? Me or her? I can only hope the mascara dragging down my face will be enough to scare him off. Go help her, she’s innocent and I am not.

“There is no way in hell that you’re doing me any favors, okay. I’d rather lightning burn me to a crisp. At least I wouldn’t have to see you in class ever again.”

“Is this about your grade?”

“No! It is not about my grade! It’s about you—”

I lose my footing, scrambling to catch myself, but I fail triumphantly when my entire backside collides with the sidewalk. I wish a flaming bolt of lightning had struck me right there on the sidewalk outside of Jo’s Market; it’d be more convenient. But instead of sizzling away on the pavement, I am holding back tears with every ounce of strength I can summon while Harry abandons his umbrella to fall to his knees beside me. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Here, lemme help you up.”

I don’t have the energy to push away his hands as they find appropriate places to support my body. I rise at an angle, partially because all my things are back on the ground and now I have to start all over, and the more presiding reason is the stifling pain in my ankle. His fingers dig into my arm and my side, somehow strong but not terribly so. Why did the image of small fingerprint bruises cross my mind? Hopefully the rain will cleanse my thoughts.

“Can you stand?” He asks. I haven’t added weight to my leg, and he gets his answer before I can respond. “Your ankle—here.” Smoothly, he maneuvers himself so my arm is draped over his shoulder, his arm wrapping around my back as a crutch. We are stuck together, forming our own three-legged race towards the parking lot. All that big talk I did moments ago, and now I’m not sure if I’m allowed to protest. I forget how to speak anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

The seats of his car are leather, and I am glued to them. It smells like him and I find myself taking deeper breaths, ushering his perfume as deep into my lungs as they allow. It makes my eyes flutter and my cheeks warm. My soul is missing out. The air is a sedative, and she could use the rest.

“I’m goin’ to get your stuff. Wait here.”

I’m not sure if he is trying to be funny, but I don’t laugh. He returns a minute later and tosses my bags into the trunk, folds his umbrella and shakes it out as if that would cut down on the flood the both of us are bringing into his car, and slides into the driver’s seat. He slips his glasses off and uses his shirt to clean the lenses.

“I think I’m okay. I mean I think I can walk.” I try not to wince.

His eyes are different in the car than they were outside, and even more different than in class. “You can’t even put your foot down in here.” He rolls his eyes and suddenly I don’t want his scent in my body any longer. “I’m—just let me take you. It’s a ten minute drive.”

“Not to my apartment.”

“What?” He puts the car back in park after having backed up an inch.

“My roommate’s boyfriend is visiting. He lives in Wyoming.” I pause, but realize it’s not enough information. “I promised to stay out for a bit tonight so they could...y’know...catch up.”

“Well what were you planning on doing then?”

“Was just gonna, I don’t know, hang around campus. There’s a rec room.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can’t go sit, soaking wet in a cold ass lounge for hours with a busted ankle.”

“It’s just twisted, it’ll ease up fine by morning.”

“Is there somewhere else you can stay? A friend’s room?” He starts the car again and I squirm to face him, changing my mind immediately. His eyes are swollen, beaten, a criminal red. I’ve only been high a few times, but I’ve cried enough to hold a record.

“No I’ll be fine, just take me back to school, please. The library is fine, it’s closer.”

“I’m not—I can’t,” he sighs, “Okay, what about the hospital? They can take a look at you.”

“No. No thanks.”

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you all alone. What if something happens? You can’t even walk, love.”

I ignore the flush of heat making its way from the top of my head to the twinging pain down below. In fact, I ignore a lot of things, like how drops of water take their time crawling down his neck, or how his shirt adheres to his body like a second skin. His knuckles swivel and pulse with each turn he makes. And then I remember I’m moving.

“What um,” he clears his throat and his fingers tighten around the wheel, knuckles no longer dancing. “My—I could take you to my apartment. S’not far from yours.”

I keep my gaze trained on his hands. I need to look at him but his eyes would be too much, his face would be too much. It’s odd, the shift in everything but my focus. He is no longer the man that stands tall in front of a group of people and speaks with purpose. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, and before I utter a response, he’s offering up more of his thoughts.

“Only if you want to, of course. I’m not trying—I don’t wanna pressure you, given our...dynamic.”

“Our dynamic?”

“Yeah...you’re my—I mean we’re...fuck. I don’t want you to think I’m implying anything, or that our relationship inside the classroom will be affected either way. My roommate’s out of town with family, so, there’s a spare room. That’s what I’m saying.”

We are at a red light. The wipers squeal and squelch against the glass, back and forth, rhythmic. I grow tired, drowsy in the warmth of his car, and then he starts driving again. We’re moving along below the speed limit, and when he stops at a crosswalk, he turns the heat up.

It no longer feels like we are in New York, everything is so slow. It feels like I’m in a movie, only I have to come up with my lines all on my own and Harry is actually sad, not acting, and tomorrow I’ll wake up and remember the way he looked under an umbrella.

“Um, I guess that would be okay.” My voice barely presides over the wipers. His fingers relax, and his knuckles swim again. “As long as I’m not bothering you.”

“No, not at all. Like I said, roommate’s gone, so it’s just me.”

***

His apartment is foreign. Metallic and earthy, a serene jungle, much more aesthetically pleasing than mine. I feel a syringe filled with tree bark and old books and mint shoot into my veins when he looks at me. This is his territory, and I feel intrusive.

It is dark and navy, indigo, washed woods. Copper pots hang from a rack over the sink. The rugs all match one another, and a painting of a mermaid hangs on one wall. The outdoors are brought inside, almost like a fairy god from a damp forest had decorated this space. The splash of color is a mustard gold.

A secretary’s desk sits under the window, abruptly capturing a 1940’s moment. Books and papers litter the top. It is the messiest part of the room, and I wonder how untamed he might be with early morning light striking his unwashed face while he makes notes in a book we’d be discussing in class. I wonder if he jots down the questions he fires at me in class, scribbles my name in red ink and underlines it three times, bulleting a list of possible things I’ll say.

The rain beats against the window, and yet somehow I can still see with my eyes closed.

He stands at the sink in nothing but boxers, sipping on coffee much too strong for me while thumbing through a newspaper.

He sits poised in the navy armchair, reading 18th century literature I never would be able to digest.

He leans against the bookcase, strumming the guitar, and only stopping to sip on wine more expensive than me and adding notes to a music sheet I can’t understand.

“You okay?”

My thoughts blurr away and Harry is back in focus. He drips all over the floor, and as I follow a drop of rain down his jaw—it had come from his hair, and landed on his left hand—I remember that I am a mess.

“Yeah, m’good.”

“Let me get you a towel. I know you probably want a shower, but I’d feel better if you didn’t. You’re still pretty wobbly and I’m not the best in emergencies.” He speaks over his shoulder with his back to me while he rummages through a small closet. I imagine myself arguing with him, because he appears to be the exact kind of person you’d want in an emergency, but figure we’ve done enough of that already.

“Thanks.” The towel is soft and green. He leaves me to dry off in peace, rounding a neck-high bookcase that works as a divider between the front entryway and the kitchen.

I shuffle closer to the living room and rub down my body, although it does little good. My clothes are suctioned to me. I pick at the fabric and pry it off my skin, which only erupts another round of chills.

I take a moment, while I’m unattended, to scan my eyes over his home. It’s cozy and lived in. If I take a few steps I can see around the bookcase. Harry’s hunched over the sink, his hands gripping the counter’s edge. His shoulders shake slightly, which reinforces the cold I feel on my own. Head bowed, I see him suck in a deep breath before straightening his form, sighing at his phone. He starts to move and I jump back out of sight.

“Ow—shit!”

“Y/n?” He hurries around to see me in all my fine glory. “What happened?”

I look up at him from the floor, sighing defeatedly. “I—I just tripped. I’m fine.”

“Okay, your ankle is worse than I thought. I’m taking you to the h—”

“No, really. It wasn’t my ankle, just, I’m a klutz.”

“The student clinic is still open. I can have them take a look at you.” He grabs his keys off the counter and pauses, tossing them back. “Sorry,” he sighs, “I—I don’t know where my head’s at today.” He bends down and hooks his arm under my back and lifts me up so I’m standing, well, leaning into him. “I’ve got some clothes for you to change into.”

“No I’m fine.”

“You want to stay in your wet clothes?”

He doesn’t sound accusatory. Sad, he almost sounds sad. I shake my head, my mouth fumbling over silent words as I scream at myself from the inside. “I, I just mean, I don’t wanna be a bother and—”

“I wouldn’t have offered.”

I gulp and nod, our conversation ending there as he helps me sit in one of two chairs at a small metal table that divides the kitchen and living room. He disappears behind me, and I’m left alone to summon whatever force I’m capable of to prevent any tears from escaping.

My efforts are distracted when his phone vibrates on the counter. Again and again it goes off, working its way to the edge. I’m sure it won’t fall, but with each round of movement, that seems increasingly untrue. I grip the seat of my chair and shuffle over the foot or so I need to be able to reach up and push his phone further back, but then I pause, and peer over my shoulder, still no sign of Harry, and selfishly slip his phone into my hand.

His screen is filled with Danielle’s name. It’s enough to make me force the phone away, back on the counter where another message rolls in. I didn’t see much, only the most recent of texts—you're being a dick about this!!!

“Here, think this might fit you. And I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer.” Harry returns, having changed himself, and sets a hoodie with our school’s name on it and a pair of grey sweats on the table.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

He helps me up, but as soon as we turn around he freezes. “Uh, why don’t you change here. In the kitchen. That’s where my dryer is anyway.” He nods to a little alcove homing twin laundry appliances. “I’ll wait in my room. Once you’re done we can head out.”

After assuring him I’m capable of dressing myself, he leaves. It feels wonderful to finally get my soaked clothes off, but once they are, the panic starts to creep it’s way up my spine. Despite his eyes not being on me, I feel exposed. And inappropriate, perhaps, for me to be standing stark naked in my TA’s kitchen.

I scramble to get dressed, thankful for the loose clothing since my bra and underwear will have to be dried too. I shove my things into his dryer and set the timer, holding my breath while I call for Harry.

“Don’t—I’ll come get you,” he rushes over to me and takes what is now the usual position of his arm around my back to help me walk. “Go slow, we don’t have to hurry.”

Without a layer of wet fabric drawing my attention, his touch feels that much more warm. I tentatively raise my arm to rest right below his neck, my hand using his shoulder for support.

And if I said I was able to ignore how his muscles felt beneath my fingers or how his rough voice sounded in my ear, I’d be a liar. But I try anyway, and lie to myself the whole way back to campus.

***

“You guys are cutting it close,” I hear the nurse tell Harry. He looks over his shoulder at me and turns back. I’m slumped in one of the waiting chairs while he signs me in. “We close in about ten minutes.”

“You’re still gonna see her though, right? She’s...in a lot of pain. Please.”

The nurse sighs and gives Harry a tempered look. “Have her fill these out. Quickly.”

“If we’re too late it’s fine,” I tell him when he sits down beside me. “And since we’re here, I can just go to the library like I planned.”

He turns to face me, a smile creeping its way onto his face. “Let me think about that...no.”

“Excuse me?”

“How do you plan on getting there?”

“Well, you.”

“Nope. My services are for trips to my apartment. Or yours. If you wanna hobble your way, allll the way to the other side of campus, to wait in a cold, dark library all by yourself and—”

“Okay, okay. I—”

“Are you filling out your paperwork or chatting?” The nurse interrupts.

I’m filled with heat at being caught, but stifle my laugh nonetheless when Harry rolls his eyes. “Fill that out before we get in trouble.”

My name is called minutes after Harry turns in my clipboard, and we’re led to a small room in the back. I refuse the exam table, knowing he’d have to help lift me to get me up there, and opt for one of the chairs in the room instead.

In less than a breath, a tall woman donned in a white coat comes in. Her demeanor serves opposite places with the nurse up front, smiling big and wide as she shuts the door and shakes both mine and Harry’s hand.

“I’m Dr. Reynolds,” she introduces herself before taking a seat on a rolling stool, eyeing the paperwork I filled out earlier. “So, looks like you’ve twisted your ankle.”

“I tripped and fell on the sidewalk...I’m not even sure what I did to hurt it.”

“Can you put weight on it?”

I look to Harry, for whatever reason, as if he has the answer. “Uh,” I clear my throat, “not really. It hurts to do so.”

“Okay, well—do you mind?” Dr. Reynolds rolls over to me and reaches down, waiting for my nod before she slowly pulls up the leg of Harry’s sweat pants to the middle of my calf. “Yeah,” she sighs knowingly, “you’re pretty swollen.”

“Could it be broken?” Harry chimes in from beside me, his voice thick and rough.

“How did you fall exactly?”

I blink a few times, recalling the memory, but I have to force my way through images of Harry in the rain with red eyes and an umbrella. “I kinda fell backwards. On the edge of the sidewalk, like I lost my footing.”

Dr. Reynolds hums and wheels back to the computer. “I’m leaning more towards a sprain or strain—but we can’t rule out a break until we get you x-rayed.”

“But, aren’t you about to close for the day? Do I have time?”

“We’ll run over a bit today, but it’s not a problem,” she smiles. “We have a wheelchair in another room I can get you. Then we’ll take the x-ray, and hopefully send you home without a broken diagnoses.”

***

“Lemme get you a towel.”

I don’t have time to protest before Harry dashes out of the bedroom. My knees pinch and sting when I lean over my legs to adjust the bag of ice sitting on my ankle. The cold burns already, and I’m not sure if I’ll make the full twenty minutes of icing before ripping the bag off my skin.

Harry stays silent when he returns, folding a dish towel and placing it between my ankle and the bag.

“Thank you.” I start to shift on the bed, but regret it immediately when Harry jumps in place and then bends over me to straighten the pillows behind me.

“This alright?”

“Yeah, I’m uh, I’m good.”

“Okay—” he stops his own sentence, pinching the air before he’s out of the room again.

I sigh and try to move my attention away from my ankle. It’s only a sprain, and a minor one at that, but the swelling hasn’t ceased any, and the weight I put on it after Harry got me back into his apartment earned me a sharp twinge of pain and a disapproving glare.

I scan my eyes over the room. It’s a little too dark to make heads or tails out of anything other than the furniture. I hiss when I try to shift again, and yank the ice off my skin. I wrap the bag in the towel to keep the water from dripping anywhere, and set it on the nightstand, nudging a copy of 1984 out of the way.

Harry bustles through the door a moment later, kicking it closed behind him. He looks down at the drink in his hands, chewing on his lip. “All I have is lemonade.”

“Thank you.” I hold back the smile I am supposed to offer. He looks relieved when I take the glass and a sip, nodding and relaxing his shoulders. “I uh...I did want to ask you…” I test the words, wait for the line to appear between his brows before finishing, “about my grade.” He does nothing more than narrow his eyes. I swallow and push my thoughts out. “You failed me.”

He blinks, rolling his lips in. “I did. But we can discuss this later. I—you need to rest.”

“O—okay.” I clear my throat and change the subject. “You play the guitar?”

“A bit.” His lips curl a little like he wants to smile, but they don’t quite make it.

I hum and bring the covers close to my nose.

“Can I get you anything?”

He stands over me as I sink further into the bed. I shake my head.

“Okay, well—why is this not on your ankle?” He picks the ice up and tries to return it back to my leg, but I move too quickly, letting my foot hang over the bed. “Intervals of twenty minutes,” he hums. “C’mon.” He nods to my leg.

I manage to hold back any sounds when I settle my foot back on the bed, but judging by Harry’s tsk, I know my face is a dead giveaway to my pain.

“See? Gotta keep this on here,” he’s particular when adjusting the towel and bag, “you won’t get better, love, if you don’t take care of yourself.”

My mouth fills with heat, so all I’m capable of doing is nodding. He makes a show of setting a twenty minute alarm on a clock by the bed, clearing his throat as he quickly scoops up the contents of the nightstand; the book, nail polish, and a cherry chapstick, shoving them into a drawer in a dresser across the room.

“You can, well you can stay as long as you’d like. Overnight I mean.” He coughs into his fist. “Just yell for me if you need anything. I’m listening, always. I’ll be...I’ll be in my room. Stay off that ankle.”

I nod, but make plans to wobble out of here as soon as I can. I’m not exactly an invited guest, and for all I know, I could be ruining his schedule...working or studying. A date. He clearly wasn’t in the best mood when we ran into each other this afternoon, and I’m sure having to babysit me doesn’t help any. My skin crawls; how could I have been so careless to not see when I’m being a burden? I’m usually pretty perceptive, or at least, I assume the worst anyway just as a precaution. You idiot.

He looks over his shoulder, his glasses reflecting what little light fought through the clouds and rain. “Okay, well, I’ll let you be.” he faces the door again, but when he looks back his lip does curl this time. “I’d offer you a book...but I know where that’ll get us.”

***

My ankle stings, but not enough to where I can’t stand on it. I still make sure to occupy my weight on the opposite leg as I crack the door open and peer into Harry's living room. It is early, still dark, and the quiet has me kicking myself for falling asleep last night, forcing me into this twisted walk of shame I am about to endure.

Would he be awake? Dressed? Annoyed that I am still here? His courtesy had been offered out of pity, this I am sure of, and I have foolishly overstayed my welcome. All that is missing is the bed sheet draped over my naked body while he asks me to step out so he can put his clothes back on.

“Harry?”

I can taste the silence. It is unnerving. A few more utterances of his name yield the same result, and I find myself standing in the middle of his living room, dropping the imaginary sheet because he is not there to scrutinize my morning appearance.

There is only one other door beside the one I have just came from, and I press my ear against it for any sign of his presence. Again, there is nothing but the sound of my own pulse.

“Harry?”

I tap my knuckles against the wood...still nothing, and when I yank the courage from the bottom of my gut to open it, I am met with a clean bathroom, still humid and smelling of soap. My face twists and it’s not until I spin around to see a thick blanket covering the couch cushions that my brain finally pieces everything together...but surely he didn’t...fabricate a roommate?

What little energy I woke up with escapes my body. I feel weighed down while making my way to the kitchen. My things are sat neatly on the counter. He’s moved my groceries into a canvas tote and laid out a bottle of water and aspirin beside my folded clothes.

When I sling the bag over my shoulder a slip of paper floats off the counter and flutters to the ground. I grab it and smooth it against my thigh.

I was running late this morning, but there's cereal in the cabinet beside the fridge. Please don’t try to walk back. I can reimburse you for an Uber later—remember, I’m the one who grades you.

I’ll be in the library today around 2.

Bring your report.

Harry

******************************************************************************************

Thank you @aileenacoustic @fromyourstrulyh and @bathrobesinparadise for beta reading for me!!!!!

#ta!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles story #burning words

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melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Past loves and future babies pt. 1

Fandom: Marvel / MCU

Summary: Takes place after the Endgame. After realizing Peggy has moved on Steve comes back to the present to take on his biggest mission ever.

Have a baby to save the world.

Pairing: Steve x OC

Notes: So Tony survives but loses one of his arms and has a prosthetic (Why? Because I want him and why not)

Also, I normally try and make my Reaer/Ocs more basic but I wanted this one to have a VERY specific personality and backstory so Reader felt like to didn’t fit the story.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

His future love.

It all started with a door. An opening to an idea. A name written on a plaque. An idea etched in a golden plaque.

Margaret Carter.

He could go back. He could change his fate. He could be happy.

He could rest.

But there had been one thing he hadn’t counted on. (Bucky had always warned him that he was too brash. Always running ran into everything head first.) One variable he hadn’t added to the equation.

She would fall in love with someone else.

She would move on.

But as he stood there in front of her small house laughing in the arms of another man he knew. The way he looked at her his dark brown eyes so bright as she smiled up at him. Had he looked at her that way?

Had she looked at him?

Did it even matter?

All he really knew was the reality of it all. The truth. He knew he couldn’t go back.

He needed to let her go.

Let her be happy.

Even if that meant he never could.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I sear to all the gods above Dixie.”

“What? You didn’t like that?”

“Let me think… you cutting all the wires before I could finish the transfer while also tripping the alarm which now has you stuck on the top floor of a… million story building… no, I’m not loving this.”

The slender brunette woman paused as she caught herself in the reflection of one of the large glass walls to a meeting room. Pausing she took a moment to check herself out. These new pants made her butt look amazing. This vigilante thing was putting her in the best shape of her life.

“Aww I believe in your skills Mac.”

“Are you checking yourself out?”

“What can I say? These metallic leggings are the bomb.”

“Jesus woman focus!”

Dixie’s cockatiel attention span was interrupted by the sound of yelling and footsteps getting closer. “Uhhh, Mac.”

“Ok. uhhh down the hall to the left there’s an office, John Mcfly.”

“Oh dear god tell me he has a son named Marty.”

“Dixie…”

“Ok, ok” her Adidas sneakers slipped slightly on the gray carpet as she caught sight of the plaque.

John Mcfly CFO.

“Ohhh fancy Mcfly.” slipping into the office Dixie took a moment to catch her breath before looking around. “Mac?” The sound of the guard’s footsteps were getting louder and louder.

“Jump.”

The young woman’s eyes looked up at the large glass window that overlooked the city. Was he serious? Yeah, Mac would never joke about her safety. He was her brother and as much as they teased each other it had always been them. Just the two of them looking out for each other.

Dixie would and had on many occasions, put her life in her brother’s hands.

So taking a deep breath Dixie bit her lip balling her hands into fists “You’ll catch me right?”

“Of course”

“Good because I hate heights!”

Also glass, Dixie hated glass. Shielding her face she prayed her new leggings wouldn’t get ruined. It was hard to make this white girl’s ass look that good. Looking up as she plummeted down the 50 floors she saw one of her brother’s drones flying next to her. Grabbing it she let out a squeak as it dipped with her weight her stomach dropping much lower than her body did. Shouldn’t have had that doughnut this morning.

While the drone steadied itself Dixie wasn’t able to get her heart back to a normal rate until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Finding her motorcycle where she had left it she quickly took off toward their meeting place several blocks away.

“Dixie!” Mac took a step out from the dark ally throwing the last of his equipment into the white van ready to leave. Ready to ditch this city now that their work was done. Move on to the next job. The next mission.

“Dixie”

The siblings paused looking at each other confused when they heard it again. “Dixie North.” a blue light slowly started to glow in the alleyway as a shape appeared.

Dr Strange stood in front of them in all his red flowing cape glory.

Both siblings froze.

“Is that…”

“Holy shit…”

“My name is Dr. Steven Strange. Master of Time. I have come to deliver a message to you Dixie North”

Next to her Mac stiffed his hand going toward the large band around his wrist. Ready to attack if this guy tried anything toward his sister. Not that Dixie thought much would happen if he did. This was one of the great avengers. But hell, they would go down fighting,

Like they always did.

“Things have happened to disrupt our timeline. The delicate balance has been fractured so certain events must now happen much sooner.” the tall man explained taking a slow breath before continuing, “You must have your child sooner to keep the universe in balance.”

Shock.

That was all that came across her. “I’m sorry, my what now?”

“You’re child, you and Steve Rogers need to have your child now.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Mac mumbled glancing at his sister who looked just -if not more- shocked than he was. Her face pail, feeling slightly… sick, confused, unsure. Many things really.

“I’m sorry I need to…”

“You and Steve Rogers are designed to have a savior but… somehow time has been tampered with and this child must be born sooner.”

“You mean Dix and Captain America…” Mac’s voice slowly faded behind his sister. Everyone knew Steve Rogers the man who had saved them from Thanos. The man who had probably been the leader to bring back half of all living creatures only a few months ago.

Well, shit shit shittery shit.

This wasn’t going to be awkward at all.

“Go to the Avengers, I have already told them.” Strange said nodding, “The fate of the universe is hanging on your shoulders.” then he disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.

Both of the North siblings stood there unsure how to process this information.

“Ok Sara Conners,” Mac said finally breaking the awkward silence. As always, just knowing what to say in situations like this to make his sister feel better.

“Ok but wait,” Dixie said turning to her brother holding her finger up for him to wait a moment, “that dude was from further… if we go by terminator rules than I would be fucking him.”

“Maybe we should go back and asked Mcfly to verify?.” Mac smiled already seeing his sister relaxing. How else can you combat a stressful situation but with comedy?

“Oh my gosh, I was thinking the same thing” Dixie giggled wagging her fingers at her brother who mimicked her action. She already was starting to feel better. After all, matter what happened at least she had Mac at her side.

Like always.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I can’t go with you.”

“What!?! Why the hell not?!” Dixie let out a high pitched whine that would have dogs for miles barking as she sat on her bright blue suitcase. One of many… after all she WAS about to meet her future baby daddy and who knew what kind of outfit that would require.

“Because Tony invited you and not me.”

Dixie stuck out her tongue in pure annoyance. “He can shove his invite up his…”

“I’m about 70% sure he can still hear you,” Mac mumbled nodding toward the flying drone that had come to send them - well Dixie - an invite to come to join the avengers. He had floated there on a hologram, like Princess Leia.

“Dixie you’re our only hope.”

Ok, he didn’t actually say that but… it would have been cooler if he had. Missed opportunity. Honestly, Dixie felt like there was going to be a lot of these going forward. Good thing she was here to help provide all their Scifi references for them

This whole thing already felt like a drag.

“Promise I’ll only be a phone call away.” Mac mumbled, “And fuck the future. If this get’s to be too much just let me know and we can run away to Mexico.”

“Only if you promise we can go back to the beach after the Latveria embassy heist.”

“I promise,” he said holding up his pinky for her to take.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“Children change your life,” Tony said lamely (for the first time in his life not knowing what to say) at Steve who stood in the doorway of the large avengers compound waiting for this future to come up. She should be here any moment.

Dixie North.

Next to him, Bucky snickered lightly. Of all the Avengers, Bucky had been the only one who had been reserving judgment. He was also the only one who knew about Steve going back to Peggy. About his plan to go back to the life he had wanted.

Bucky was the only one who knew about Steve coming back heartbroken.

The black car pulled up the gravel driveway stopping at the door where the Avengers stood waiting for their new roommate.

The young woman stepped out of the car saying something to the driver who laughed. A large smile on sweet round her face. Cheeks bright from smiling. At least she was happy. Steve mused. He, on the other hand, felt like he was being marched to his death.

“Well at least she’s cute” Sam mumbled loud enough for Steve to hear. The comment earned Sam a quick elbow to the ribs by Bucky.

Turning from the car the woman, Dixie paused taking in everyone for a moment giving a slight wave. For a moment Steve thought he saw her shoulder’s tense as she focused on him. But it was gone so quickly he wasn’t sure.

She must be as nervous as he was. He reminded himself. She was in this just as much as he was.

Walking toward them she smiled holding her hand out for Steve to shake. As he took it he could help but notice how much smaller it was than his large ones. But even so, she took his strong grip matching his grip with one of her own. Her pretty eye meeting his and he felt his stomach drop as if he was leaping out of an airplane without a parachute.

“Hey I’m Dixie and I guess I’m your future baby Mama.”

-GET TAGGED!-

Forever tag: @the-shadow-of-atlantis-links @coffee-randomness @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep @cdwmtjb8

Story Tag: @Evansgirl7

#Steve Rogers x oc #Steve rogers long fic #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers romcom #MCU oc #MCU fanfic #MCU long fic #MCU fluff #Steve Rogers Smut #Steve Rogers x reader

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dayseternal-blog · 4 years

Link

A Hanahaki AU -

Summary: She knit a red scarf for him. She never gave it to him. Days turned into months, months turned into too late.

Naruto starts dating. Hinata decides to move on.

A sickness takes root in the heart.

Inspired by SasuSaku fanfic “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake

Rating: Mature

Read Chapter 1: Smoke on her tongue

Read Chapter 2: He’s not a ghost

Read Chapter 3: Weeds

Read Chapter 4: Leave himself behind

Chapter 5: She’s always (still here)

The pale of her cheekbones, to the small of her chin, the deep rich of her lashes to the curve of her neck. Every line of her figure flows soft, the change in her expressions drawing all feeling out of him, centering and settling about her.

She’s always looked like she was cut from the edges of clouds and morning light. Her voice has always sounded of gentle humming as the village awakens.

So why does she make his chest tighten, his breath lock...?

When he still doesn’t reply, she takes a careful step closer, then another, until she sits down in the chair beside his bed. His eyes never left her, watching her, and so she waits, even as her worry steadily grows with each passing, silent second.

Like the push of high tide, grains of longing expectations inexplicably build within him. She’s here, just her, that guy is gone from beside her, and it’s just them.

“You needed...to talk to me about something?”

And just with that, the tide recedes, farther, drier than before. He’s reminded that she’s here because Sakura told her to come. He wills the burning sensation at the base of his throat down, he breaks from his thoughtless staring. He nods.

His silence is unsettling. Why is he here in the hospital? Why does he need to talk to her? Is something really wrong with him? Dread shortens her breath. “What is it?”

He glances back at her and feels her light gaze focused entirely on him, overwhelming him, like his heart is liquifying, flooding his airway. Just tell her, but... Her countenance is too delicately fair, as beautiful as dreams rooted in him, and he’s awfully, terribly aware. Now.

He can’t go on if she never looks at him again.

Sakura said he just needs to tell her, right?

She whispers uncertainly, “Why are you here? Is there anything I can do to help?” She studies him, notices every wavering flicker of light in his eyes, the furrow in his brow, the drawn up tension in his jaw and neck. She’s never seen him like this before.

As if his very body is locking down his voice.

He can’t breathe.

The weight in his chest grows and grows the more he tries to speak. Tight pain twinges beneath his collarbone.

Just tell her, just tell her, just tell her.

But what if she turns away? (Her expression refusing him, words unnecessary, she’s always spoken louder with her actions.)

There was a time, once, she said “I love you." So long ago now, (maybe he’s too late now). Too much, too late, if she really did love, (she already looked away).

He tries to swallow it down, he doesn’t want to be sick, he doesn’t want this feeling, he doesn’t want to be afraid, he doesn’t want her to see him like this, but it’s no use. He turns over, desperately trying to hold everything back, but somehow the pain is so much worse.

He blinks back tears. (He knew it, somehow, that she was special to him).

Large, fully bloomed lilies surge from his throat. (Ever since back then, maybe even before, he knew she was supposed to be his something special.)

Sharp leaves scrape along his esophagus. (He knew, but at the same time, somehow he didn’t know- didn’t- did nothing-)

“Naruto-kun!”

He struggles for breath as he feels her fingers firmly pressing chakra points along his back, neck, shoulders, chest.

She watches the shuddering of his body marginally lessen as she loosens chakra points and seals others. The twisting of his chakra in his chest is violently thick, appearing almost astonishingly solid, with a web of chakra branching across his lungs, piercing throughout his body, up to his brain, down to the weakened fire in his core. The color in the abnormal pathways is not quite right, its natural blue streaking a warped, flashing, blinding white and florescent green. She sees the edges of the stalk in his chest fray, weaken, but not quick enough. She pulses her own chakra into his, hoping to disrupt the connections.

She gasps, eyes widening even more at the unusual sight. Knots of hard chakra peel and split apart, the numerous webs in his abdomen diffuse back into the main streams of his network, specks of white and green melding to a healthy blue in his system. The thick branch in his respiratory tract thins into a peculiar string with feather-like extensions intricately stretching over his lungs, all rooted in a stubborn ball of chakra the size of a pebble in the base of his chest.

He takes a large breath, the sudden circulation of air shocking him from the momentary, though all-encompassing, warmth of her chakra.

“Naruto-kun!” she calls again, kneeling lower, trying to see his face. “Naruto-kun, are you alright?” She studies him for any discomfort and unseals the chakra points she closed.

“Yeah,” he manages to pant out. He nods once, and realizes his mind suddenly feels clearer, too, as if a fog in his head dissipated. Her chakra…? He feels incredibly lighter, physically and mentally. No longer sick to his stomach, the sense of impending doom he didn’t realize he felt now a distant, unfamiliar thought.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she breathes shakily. She checks his system over, panic unsubsiding.

The pebble of chakra is growing. The web throughout his chest gradually elongating, thickening. She tracks the stretching ends of his illness, steadily piercing up his spinal cord. It’s nowhere near the mess of threads that angrily knotted throughout his network from before, but over time…

“It’s getting worse again,” she whispers, shaking her head in disbelief.

And he can sense it, too. Her focused attentions filling him with an indescribable self-consciousness, an anxiety that she can see more than just right through him.

She unthinkingly presses her fingers to the growing mass of chakra in his chest and floods the pressure point with her own energy. She watches her chakra mix with his own, disrupting the vivid green coloring, the pebble flaring under her onslaught. Immediately the roots and unnatural webs retract, returning to earlier. But it’s somehow not enough. The pebble still sticks inside him, rooted, strange. Faint lines of chakra trace along his respiratory tract. It all almost resembles a tree or plant.

She relaxes her sight and tries to gauge his expression on his downturned face, then notes a shine along his hand...from tears or saliva, she doesn’t know.

And she’s reminded that he was choking; something large was coming out of him. She turns to the wastebasket, but he grabs at it.

“Don’t- don’t look.” He’s breathing hard again, his chest heaving in panic against the metal. He frantically pulls the plastic closed, its sour smell sealed within. Somehow, for some reason, he can’t stand the idea of her seeing them. The disgusting evidence of his wrongs.

She frowns, wills herself to look him in the eyes and hold his gaze. He’s obviously ashamed, likely also embarrassed. He’s always been too independent, too self-reliant to ask for help. But he needs to know that he has nothing to be ashamed of in front of her. “I can help manage your symptoms as much as possible while Sakura-chan finds a cure.”

He moves the basket to the other side, away from her. “Hinata…” Just her name is painfully warm. Uncomfortably soothing like her chakra. “That’s not-”

“I can easily track your illness, and so I’ll be able to effectively repress its growth whenever necessary,” she continues, intent on convincing him. “I’m sure Sakura-chan is busy, that’s why she suggested me, right? And I still haven’t used this year’s personal leave days. I’ll do anything I can to help you, Naruto-kun.” She pauses, realizing belatedly how she somehow can’t stop herself from showing him how much she still cares. However now is not the time for her to regret her words.

Her sincerity leaves him speechless. His senses numbing like when she first entered his room. A yearning for more.

But she stands.

“I’ll go tell Sakura-chan that I can help.”

He straightens, instinctively trying to stop her from leaving.

“It’s okay,” she reassures, resisting self-consciousness. Maybe he doesn’t want to use her... “Don’t feel bad,” for me.

He’s left sitting there, watching her leave, wondering why he couldn’t stop her from misunderstanding, why he didn’t try to correct her.

Why he could hardly speak at all to her. He’s hardly himself, hasn’t felt like himself in a long time.

His emotions feel haywire, like any little thing about her tips him off-balance into anxiety.

Practically fear.

Fear of…

Her chakra felt like a hit of bliss to his system. So warm, so calming, a satisfaction and peace that simultaneously revitalized him for those few seconds. He missed it as soon as she stopped. Sensed that he needed it. Her.

Dread fills him, the weight not unbearable like before, but steadily, surely pooling within him. This temporary period of relief, obviously thanks to her intervention, just further proof to him.

He gets it now. But he can barely acknowledge it.

It’s not going to be enough to just tell her. Nowhere near enough, and that’s...that’s why he couldn’t do it.

She exhales, a long breath.

Yes, she was fine.

When it comes to him, she’s always been able to put everything else aside. In truth, her unrequited love never used to be a problem for her, she never, never expected anything from him.

She’s not sure when that changed, when she started to truly hope...well, it doesn’t matter anyway.

She slides the door to the office open.

Sakura immediately looks up. She stands abruptly. “Did he tell you?”

“He didn't tell me about his illness, but I can help him,” she reports. A determined resolve fills her. She follows through on her promises. And this is one she knows she will not fail.

Yet strangely, Sakura’s brows furrow, her mouth falling open in a silent exclamation, her entire expression asking a very confused, “Huh?”

Sakura’s reaction pulls her off-guard, but she realizes that she should report the information she found while using her kekkei genkai. “His illness seems to respond well to chakra interruption. I checked and could see his illness significantly receding whenever I shared chakra with him, but it doesn’t go away completely. It starts growing back almost right away. I can make sure to repress the worst of his illness until you find a cure.” She steels herself for what she wants to ask. “Can you tell me? How bad is it? I want to do my best to help him.”

But instead of answering, the medic-nin’s cheeks pull up in disbelief. She shakes her head slightly as several thoughts apparently rush through her mind. “Hold on a minute.” Her voice almost sounds...upset.

Hinata doesn’t have time to question her as Sakura rushes past her and disappears down the hall.

He sits up quickly as the door pulls open, but it’s not who he expected.

Sakura’s eyes are wide, livid. She pushes the door closed firmly. “Why didn’t you tell her?!” She marches up to him, her very stance demanding his obedience.

His mind flashes through everything he’s been figuring out. It’s hard to put into words. He shrugs, shaking his head. “I couldn’t.” He points at the trashcan, hoping that explains everything.

Sakura opens a drawer, pulls out a new bag. Grabs his mess away for disposal elsewhere, undeterred by his stink body fluids. “Do you want me to do it for you?”

“No!”

“Well I will if you don’t!”

“No, I don’t want you to do it!”

“Why not? All of this will be over the sooner you do it!”

“You don’t know that! What if she hates it?” He knows “hate” is a strong word, he’s almost certain Hinata would never “hate” anything, but that terrible doubt is still there, stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, an anxiety that he’s never had about anything before. “Sakura-chan, if I tell her, and she...she…, I think it really will be over for me.”

Sakura calms, lips pinching into a sympathetic frown. “Hinata wouldn’t hate it.”

“I know that.” Logically, he knows. “But she could still…” Reject me. Itchiness crawls over him, stress grabbing at his muscles, the weight in his chest doubling, bearing down like he’s going to have a heart attack.

“She won’t.”

He squints at her. It’s hard to focus, the pain in his chest, in his heart, aches, pinches acutely.

And Sakura stares back, her brows furrowing intensely. She breathes out in a decided rush, eyes piercingly locked onto his. “Hinata loves you.”

Jitters rush through him, expectations growing, hopes stretching higher. Only to be slammed back down with an image of her with him. Even if they broke up, that doesn’t mean… “She was just in a relationship with someone else.”

“And so were you,” Sakura points out, brow arched.

“But that’s because-!” He stops. It feels impossible. He can’t tell her, after all, he was just in a relationship, too. She wouldn’t believe him. She wouldn’t accept him on principle.

“Look, I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. She was trying to get over you because you were dating Rumi.” She pauses, frowning. “Hinata will hate me for telling you that, but it’s really the truth, and you need to know it. I think Hinata would forgive me if she knew you were going to die.”

She loves me? It doesn’t sound real. She still loves me? Even after he dated-- “She doesn’t even know I broke up with her.” It’s really all impossible. Too many “if”s for a success rate. He has no idea if Sakura’s telling the truth. It sounds too incredible anyway.

“So tell her everything. Or I will.” Sakura stares at him until he nods. “I’m going to bring her back in here. I want this all cleared up by the end of today, Naruto! Honestly, if you were in my position, you would see how simple this all really is.”

Is it that simple? Does Hinata really love him? Still? For how long? Why? Really? Is Sakura lying to make him feel better?

Sakura lets out a long sigh. “Are you sure you don’t want me to tell her? At least about your illness? She was asking when I left her in my office.”

“No.” He doesn’t want Hinata to know about any of this, he wishes this disease had nothing to do with her. “Don’t tell her anything.”

“Then you really do need to tell her, Naruto.”

He feels like he’s been hearing that all day, all night, for a long time, even since before. He’s been needing to talk to her, talk to someone, tell someone something, and he’s tired.

He’s so tired.

Exhausted.

When Sakura barged back into her office, she stepped right up to her. Hinata was about to step back, but Sakura grabbed her hands, holding her in place. “Hinata, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“You believe in Naruto, right?”

She nods, trying to follow along.

“No matter what he says today, you need to believe him, okay?”

“Oh-”

“Okay?” Sakura repeats.

She nods, anxiety rising. “Okay.”

“He really needs you.”

Sakura’s words make her stomach flip, but she tries her best to ignore it. “How bad is it?” she asks instead.

She shakes her head. “Naruto doesn’t want me to tell you anything.”

“It’s that bad?” she whispers. If Naruto doesn’t want her to know, then...

“The solution is easier than it seems. But it’s up to Naruto.”

She tilts her head in a question.

Sakura doesn’t elaborate. “It will work out. Go to him, okay? If you need to leave for any reason, let me know before you go.”

She nods, fear steadily rising. There’s no reason she can think of that would possibly keep her from leaving now. How bad is it? It’s so bad that he doesn’t want her to know. She rushes to his room faster than any feelings of self-pity could possibly stop her, finds herself at his bedside much more easily than the first time, and hears herself asking her unanswered question once more. “Tell me how bad it is, Naruto-kun.”

But her question hardly registers. Suddenly, she’s before him, and he doesn’t feel tired at all. She loves me? It’s the only coherent thought he holds, staring at her again. He feels himself falling into her gravity, his awareness of her hyper-sensitive, as if he can feel her presence pressing onto his skin without even touching her. He looks away, unnerved. “You broke up with-” that guy. “...Susumu.”

She’s jarred away from her thoughts. He already knew? “Yes,” she murmurs, wondering why he should concern himself with that now of all times.

“Why?” And he’s looking at her again, this time, his gaze searching, and she feels compelled to be honest.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” she answers softly.

He tried to tell her so. He knew it wouldn’t work out, but now he wonders how much of that judgment was colored by his own feelings. “...Why?” he asks, unable to stop himself. “Why did you try with him?” Was she really trying to get over him by dating someone else?

“W-why?” She blinks. “Because he was nice, and…” She’s told him this before, why is he asking again? Now, of all times? “Because he asked, and I...I was trying to-” She doesn’t need to say it, Doesn’t he already understand?....from that time outside his apartment?...or does he really not know that...? “I was trying to find love,” she explains quietly.

Her whispered words don’t give him any relief. It’s sudden, the onslaught of questions that rises in him. It’s overwhelming, how desperately he wishes to know every detail, how awfully aware he is of his own jealousy, how disgusted he is in himself. He wants to repress his reactions, he wants to control himself, he wants to listen to the voice of reason he knows he still has. Yet there’s no relief from any of it. His emotions drag him under, and he struggles to deny them.

Why didn’t she--? If I had asked first--? Just anyone could--? Because he was nice? Because I was dating--? If she loved me, then why didn’t she--?

She watches his glare, a rotten expression directed at the far wall, with increasing concern. His prolonged periods of silence aren’t like him at all. “Naruto-kun,” she calls, hoping to bring him out of his thoughts. “I know I made a mistake, a really stupid mistake, but I’m doing fine. It’s okay.”

Her calm voice aggravates his nerves, makes him feel sharply that even if she’s okay, he’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay for a long time, and for her to brush everything off like it was just a...just a mistake?...somehow, it’s not fair…

“I wasn’t okay before,” she murmurs. She notices how he’s watching, listening, with an intensity that makes her want to shy away, but she forces herself to continue. If only to affirm herself. In front of him. “I made a poor choice when I wasn’t ready. I know that now. But I’m learning from my mistakes, and now I know not to rush. Otherwise I’ll hurt others.” She steadies herself under his stare. “And myself. But I’m doing better now. Every day is better than the one before.”

He understands that if she’s fine, then he should be glad for that. He thinks he knows how he should feel. But his unjustified anger continues to simmer, bubbling over. To put words to it would be wrong. It would be wrong, and he tries to swallow it back, but he feels his temper flaring under his skin. He doesn’t know if he wants to yell or cry, or just…

He feels sick.

The color in his cheeks flush red. Then pale white. She grabs his wrist and pushes her chakra into his skin. She’s shocked by how quickly his illness reformed in the ten or fifteen minutes she was away, and how quickly the unnatural chakra pathways clear once more with her energy. “Naruto-kun, are you alright?!”

It’s a wonder. So close to what he wants, needs, desires. Her chakra is a medicine that cleans him up, purifies his mind, and soothes all the pains in his body. But even if she gave him all of her chakra, it would never be enough.

“Naruto-kun?” she repeats. His blue eyes, usually so lively, appear dull now. She’s never seen him look so tired.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“No,” she negates quickly.

He breathes deeply, trying to calm himself, exhaustion settling bone-deep. He buries his head in his arms, bent over his knees. He stares at the white sheet, finally finding words to his frustration. “What about me?”

She leans forward, unsure of his mumbling.

He shuts his eyes tightly. His hands clench into fists. He looks up and finds her eyes wide, surprised, at meeting his so suddenly. “I broke up with Rumi.” He watches her lashes lift, her eyes widen even more. “I made a mistake. I should have never dated her. I tried to rush things. I hurt her. And now look at me.”

She holds his intense gaze, all feeling leaving her. Like he pulled the floor from beneath her, her body suspended mid-air.

“What if Naruto and Rumi-chan break up. What would you do?”

She doesn’t know. She hasn’t known. Her mouth opens, she thinks to offer her condolences, I’m sorry to hear that. After all, isn’t that what he wants from her? Her listening ear, the endless patience she holds for him?

And she’s said that, before. When he told her that he broke up with Kanae. She latched down on her feelings and listened to him describe the situation with his new ex-girlfriend.

He shrugged and frowned. He said he “didn’t get it.” She nodded sympathetically. She told him that if he wanted to talk about it more, she would listen. He described Kanae and everything he didn’t understand, and she realized that though he was sad about breaking up, he wasn’t really sad about losing Kanae. For a time, it gave her misguided hope. She wanted him to see that she would be there for him. A part of her wanted him to see her, but she didn’t want to take advantage of his wounded self-esteem. She didn’t ask him out, she didn’t want to be another Kanae, another girl to date...she didn’t want to be just a friend either.

In the end, here, it seems like it was exactly that--he took her constant companionship for granted.

So she’s not sorry. Naruto didn’t seem sorry to hear about her breakup. Not for one second. If anything, his questioning sounded like an “I told you so.”

He not once supported her efforts, rather he seemed to actively try to discourage her. Really it’s no wonder that it never worked out with Susumu. If she had received Naruto’s support, even just once, she would’ve tried harder. She wouldn’t have kept looking back at the boy she promised herself to move on from.

So she’s really not sorry, either.

It feels hotly wicked of her to even consider. She knows she should feel sorry for Rumi. She knows she should feel sorry for Naruto. But she balls this rare, secret feeling up and holds it close.

And for how contemptible her disinterested feelings are, she can’t really find any fault with it. After all, she just went through a breakup. Is it really so wrong of her to not mourn his?

She looks directly into those eyes that used to unnerve her so easily. His usual bright strength isn’t there. Whether due to his breakup or his illness, she isn’t sure which is more at fault, but both at the same time would wear anyone out. Even Naruto. She understands... “I see you,” she replies. “I’ve always seen you, Naruto-kun.” She pauses there, just to feel the impact of her own words. She keeps that hurt close, too. It’s her own. She takes a deep breath. “I can’t offer you my sympathies this time, and I hope you understand.” She gives him a small smile, pained. “You know how I...felt about you, right?”

He stills, every small motion that she unconsciously tracks frozen. She realizes he stopped breathing, that he’s waiting.

Her heartbeat slows, a dull thud, like time itself is pulling around this one moment. If not sympathy, she can at least give him honesty. Maybe if she had just confessed, laid her feelings bare a long time ago, been rejected outright, she wouldn’t still be hung up on him. Maybe she owes this to herself, too. Everything she’s held on to, she’s always wanted to give it to him. Just finally let it go, even if she didn’t plan for this, even if the timing isn’t right or special for either of them, even if it won’t lead to anything, she might not get to hold his attention like this again in private before he moves on to the next girl. “...You know that I loved you. I still do.” Tears shoot up unexpectedly, her throat thickens, and she swallows it down. “And I know you don’t see me that way. But I’m not perfect. I’m still working through my feelings. So I hope you understand that I can’t listen to you this time. But I’ll always be your friend no matter what.”

She expects him to nod, at least, in reaction.

His shoulders rise, his face neither upset nor sad, instead rather blank, almost as if her words went through one ear and out the other.

For how focused he seemed before, she wonders if he was listening at all.

His jaw drops, his expression openly processing her words. “You-” His gaze centers on hers for a second. Then enlarge, shuttering panic shocking his eyes, he turns away.

He’s burning.

“I still do.”--trembling words raging in a fever beneath his skin as he empties himself. His stomach is tight, twisting, turning itself out. His throat is on fire as he hacks out stiff stems, scratching leaves and long petals unfurling heavily into a soppy puddle soaking through the sheet into his lap.

Vaguely he hears Hinata’s panicked cries, more prominently he feels her soothing chakra seeping into the corners of his being. A trickling, tickling sensation starting from his back, up his spine, running through him like the sun against his skin in the spring, hot, cold, hot, cold. It spreads, he can see it behind the dark of his eyelids, glowing brighter, whiter, warmer, until he feels essentially himself.

There’s no question that it wasn’t a disease inside of him--it was a hollowness, an emptiness, that’s finally been filled.

He passed out. His system is completely clear. No knots, no webs, no stubborn balls of green and white chakra.

She ignores the pile of sticky lilies over his lower body, intent on watching his lungs expand and compress rhythmically, easily with breath. From what she can tell, he appears to simply be sleeping.

A nurse ran in, then rushed back out to get Sakura.

Whenever her mind tries to make sense of Naruto’s behavior, she shakes it away to refocus on his physical health.

The rolling of the sliding door and footsteps alert her.

“How is he?!” Sakura rushes up next to her, freezing at the sight and sickly sweet smell of the blooms over the blanket.

“He’s breathing regularly, his chakra system appears to be clear of the disease, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” she breathes out in a rush. Although he seems completely undisturbed, the obviously unordinary lilies covering him baffles her to the point that she can’t even question it. She’s never seen such a phenomenon, and it nags for her attention. “After he threw up...um...the sickness seems to have disappeared.”

An audible breath leaves Sakura. She wraps up the mess, tying the blanket together in the corners and dropping it into a waste bin. Her glowing, green hands hover over his torso, then the pit of his stomach, then up to his forehead. “He’s clear,” she declares. She lets out another sigh. This one of apparent relief. “Now we just have to wait for him to wake up.” She turns around to her, a gentle smile on. “So?” She tilts her head in a question. “He must have told you?”

It takes her a moment to focus on Sakura’s question, the sudden change in topics. What about his vomit? He’s really fine? So suddenly?... She slowly nods, remembering how he told her that he broke up with Rumi. “I tried...but...I couldn’t sympathize with him.”

Just like earlier, Sakura appears openly confused, biting down on her bottom lip, brows furrowing. “What did you two talk about while I was out.” An authoritative demand for information, not a question.

Hinata blinks, coming to the conclusion that she’s missing something. The pieces are here before her--Naruto’s strange behavior, Sakura’s impatience, the mess of lilies, the fact that she was called to help Naruto-- “He, um, told me he broke up with Rumi-san.”

Sakura nods, urging her on.

“And then, then I told him that I couldn’t offer him any condolences. Because I...I told him that I love him.”

Her green eyes widen, brows raising high enough that wrinkles form on her forehead. “Hinata, you told him?”

She nods. “I felt like I needed to tell him so that I can finally move on, and I didn’t know when I’d get another chance to say it.”

Sakura turns away and stares at the sleeping boy, chin pinching upward in a small frown.

“Sakura-chan, is Naruto-kun really okay now? What’s going on?”

But Sakura just bites her lips and shakes her head. “I really wish I could tell you, but I don’t have Naruto’s consent. He should be fine now. His vitals are normal. Ask Naruto when he wakes up.” She turns back to Hinata, a secretive smile now curling her lips and cheeks. She opens a cabinet and spreads a new blanket over him. Stretching her arms high above her head, she heads out of the room, little smile still on. “I should’ve locked the two of you in a room a long time ago.”

“Wha-”

“Don’t leave without notifying me first!” And Sakura shuts the door.

Unwilling to bother the busy medic any more than she already has, she huffs out her confusion in an agitated sigh. She can only wait. She glances back at Naruto, who’s peacefully sleeping, completely passed out.

He probably won’t wake up for awhile if he exhausted his chakra.

She checks Naruto’s system once more.

All seems well, indeed, his core already burns stronger than before.

What happened? One moment he was so sick. The next, it was as if he threw up his disease, and Sakura hardly seemed surprised at all.

And his reaction to her confession?

He threw up in reaction? Or was that just a coincidence of timing?

She frowns once more, brows furrowing. She really chose a terrible time to confess. Of all the times to confess again, she decided now, while he was obviously extremely sick in the hospital, was the time to do it, and he threw up right after, then passed out…

Maybe Naruto wasn’t ready to hear it directly from her, after his breakup, and the sudden confession literally shocked the sickness out of him in a pile of...flowers?

It’s too late now, useless to regret the complete lack of passion and meaning in her confession...Why lilies?

Maybe it was all for the best? If that means he’s better now...Lilies?

There’s no making any sense of it. She just has to wait for him to wake up.

So she fixes the corners of the blanket, smoothes it out across his body.

Then sits there.

Trying not to look at the golden shine of his lashes and brows. Trying not to follow the strong line of his jaw to his neck. Trying not to admire the birthmarks across his skin.

She closes her eyes, sits back, and lets the long morning seep out.

The chair next to his bed is empty.

He sits up and finds her, curled up in a more comfortable armchair against the wall, asleep.

She stayed with him.

She still loves him.

She really said that.

That same tickling, warm feeling rises to his face. Hinata. She loves him. How deeply, how meaningfully, he doesn’t know, but it’s there. Those words are still inside her, just like Sakura said they were. That...love...is still there, for him. She’s here, with him. And he couldn’t tell it to her before, but now he can. He can.

Whatever twisted him up before is gone. That blockage of the mind, that physical confusion in his gut, that solid fear in his chest, gone. The haze before his eyes, in his heart, in his memories, completely clear.

He hasn’t felt this good in ages. Focused, capable, purposeful.

And Hinata...he’s been making her wait for...a long time.

“Hinata.” He clears his throat, trying to find his voice. “Hinata.”

She stirs, eyes scrunching for a second, flying open the next. She startles upright. “Naruto-kun. You’re okay!” A relieved smile lights away any dazed remnants of sleepiness.

She really still loves him.

It’s an incredible miracle. He’s been making her wait, yet, somehow, he’s not too late. And he doesn’t want to ever be too late. With the beams of strong sunlight coming in through the window, a few hours passed while he recovered. He doesn’t want to make her wait a minute more. “Hinata, I love you.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her smile hardly changes except for a slight raise of the brows.

He’s not sure if she even heard him. “I love you.” The words hold more meaning to him than anytime before.

She looks down at her lap, sorting through her sense of reality, that she’s truly awake. She blinks, finding the smallest functioning of her body too detailed for a hallucination or dream. She looks up again and finds his gaze intensifying.

“I love you, Hinata.”

She realizes he’s really saying that. “Um.” She looks at where Sakura disposed his mess. Someone cleared it away while she slept. “Um.” Something is very wrong, but she can’t quite name her discomfort. Somewhere between his disease and this confession, this doesn’t feel quite right.

Her response has him wishing he could pull off his monitor, get out of bed, and close the distance. But that would set the alarm off. And an interruption right now is not what he needs. “I know you don’t believe me.”

Her eyes settle back on his.

“Hinata, I’m telling the truth. Is that okay? Can I love you?”

She studies his expression, searches for dishonesty or deceit...but everything about him is real. Logic of circumstance tells her that this isn’t real at all. “You..you mean it?”

“Yeah.” He watches her move to the chair beside him, determination solidifying stronger with her now closer. “I want to be with you.”

“Naruto-kun.” Is this how he started dating Kanae and Rumi? With sweet words any girl would want to hear? She knows he would never mean to lie. She knows he would never, never ever mean to hurt her. But… “You’re not just saying that because I confessed? Please, if you’re just saying that out of a feeling of indebtedness or sense of duty...”

Indebtedness? Duty? “No!” He grimaces at the implication, that she would assume that of him-

“Or because you don’t want to make me feel bad-”

“No, Hinata!” He fists the sheet in frustration. “I mean it! I love you.” Not just to say it back, not just to fulfill his wants, not just to be nice or do “what he’s supposed to do.”

She quiets, still unsure. She wants to believe him. Of course she wants to. “I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time understanding...with how sudden all of this is. You were just very sick, and you weren’t well, and I, I don’t know why...why you’re saying this? You just broke up with..with Rumi-san, and...”

Naruto averts his gaze. He didn’t want to explain his disease to her. It’s mortifyingly embarrassing. He couldn’t control his emotions. He was insanely jealous. His body started attacking itself. His power, his chakra, was making him sick. “Hero of the Hidden Leaf.” “Saviour of this World.” All just words, but he never quite realized how seriously he took them. His pride, his dignity…

If there is anyone he wanted to be cool for, it was always her.

But what is his pride if he fails her in this?... He nods, acknowledging her doubts, disbelief he already knew she would have. “...You told me that you still love me.” His heart burns at the memory. His face heats up at voicing it aloud. A giddiness clamors within him that he wants to revel in. If she’ll let him. “That healed me.”

Hinata’s expression squishes into the most confused he’s ever seen her.

And he knows he’ll need to explain more than that. “My chakra illness was related to my emotions. I couldn’t handle seeing you with that guy.” He still can’t handle thinking about it. He didn’t admit it to himself before, but now he clearly sees that he hates Susumu. He hates that that guy was with Hinata, he hates that it wasn’t himself. “I was really mad for a long time about it. I couldn’t do anything, and I didn’t understand. And I got sick because I was so messed up.”

She stares at him, his story processing. He’s really saying all of this. That he was jealous? Because she was dating Susumu? She thinks maybe she should feel pleased, but, “You got sick because of me?”

He pauses at her worried tone, her eyes widening in panic, in guilt. “No, Hinata, no, it wasn’t because of you!”

She’s not at all convinced. Because didn’t he just say that seeing her with Susumu made him messed up?

“How do I say this...I got sick because…” He remembers Sakura telling him that he needed to express his feelings toward her. He remembers realizing that just confessing to Hinata wouldn’t be enough. From Hinata’s point of view, she would blame herself, but that wasn’t it. “I got sick because I have this intense feeling for you.” He blushes, finding that way more intimate to say aloud than he realized. “And if I kept holding it in, it had nowhere to go. I couldn’t talk to you or see you. I couldn’t act on my feelings. It made me feel empty. So it wasn’t your fault. It’s just that I...” He bites his lip. How many times has he said it by now? And she won’t believe him? Yet each time has been so freeing. “...love you.”

She’s breathless. It’s too much. His sincere words, his shy expression. And he loves her? “Naruto-kun…” You really…? Her hands come up, covering her mouth, her eyes. She curls her fingers together just to find some grounding in herself. She finds his watching gaze again. She realizes he accepted her feelings, and she realizes that he really does want to be with her. It’s unbelievable. But she believes him. “I love you.”

Whispered words, but they’re loud enough to make his heart bear down. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” She nods, memorizing his lopsided smile. “I do.”

He reaches his hand out, and she takes it unhesitatingly.

The warmth of his hand, only outmatched by the brightness of his blossoming smile, spreading across his features into something wonderful. She’s seen it before. Last year, on his birthday. It’s not new, it’s been there, between them, and she felt it back then, too.

So she didn’t imagine it?

She blinks rapidly, willing back the heat behind her eyes. “Naruto-kun…”

“Hinata?” he answers, only to realize that she didn’t call for his attention.

She’s gazing at him with so much...so much...it makes him feel antsy, impatience clambering beneath his skin, a need to do more, more, more, yet all he can do is hold her hand tighter.

He needs to get out of this damn hospital. “I...can’t do much here. I need to get cleaned up. And I need to catch up on mission hours. But I swear that I’ll start proving it to you as soon as I get out of here.”

She shakes her head. He really does seem better. Remarkably so. But he doesn’t need to prove anything to her. “You need to rest.”

He sits up straighter, vehemently shaking his head. “No, no, you have no idea, Hinata. I’ve been resting for almost a month.” Just the thought of lying around any longer makes him feel like vomiting. Metaphorically. He pulls the monitor off from under his shirt.

The red light starts flashing, ringing.

“Naruto-kun!”

“I’m done here,” he explains. He climbs out of bed, looks at her, and smiles.

So she stands, too amazed to be the focus of that warmth to argue, and follows him out.

He’s smiling at her, his eyes so bright and alive, just like before.

Like before, a year ago, when they’d pass each other in the village, and he’d stop to talk to her. Or before, when they’d eat ramen, sitting with friends, or with just each other.

He’s warm. He’s inviting. He’s easy.

He loves me?

“You can’t leave, yet!!” A scolding voice. A nurse, hands spread wide open before Naruto’s shoulders, stopping him. “Haruno-san may have said you can be discharged soon, but you didn’t receive your final official screening! Now turn around! Get back in there! Go! Go!” The nurse is shooing him back into his room much to his complaints.

And she makes to follow him back in.

But left in the hallway with his back to her, with his muted voice within the walls of the room, she takes pause.

He...loves me?

That’s what he said just a minute ago. That’s what he said… He said he broke up with Rumi. That he never loved her. He said that he was sick. That he hated seeing her with Susumu. That he was jealous...and he was sick. Until she told him that she loves him.

It sounds untrue.

But Naruto doesn’t tell cruel lies. He’s always been straightforward, someone to tell things the way he sees them.

He’s also always seen things in his own way. Worked things out on his own time. And she supposes this could be such a case?

So what makes her not believe him?

It’s just… She doesn’t know if it’s the suddenness of it all, or if she...just...can’t trust it. And why. Why can’t she trust his words? She used to think, after all, that they had something special. And here Naruto is, telling her that what she thought was right. They...do?...have something special…?...

She stares at the floor, emotions of joy, confusion, and worry jostling for space.

Sakura told her to believe him. No matter what he says today. And she knows now that this is what Sakura was waiting for her to hear all morning.

It really is too good to be true. She’ll wake up soon, all of this a fever dream. Maybe she passed out in front of Neji’s grave. Maybe she’s living in a genjutsu. The God Tree grew back. She knows she’s being ridiculous, but this whole situation has felt ridiculous since she woke-

“I thought maybe you left!”

She looks up from the floor, looks directly at him, and his anxiety settles just that quickly. When she didn’t follow him back into his room, he thought maybe she went home, maybe she changed her mind, maybe she didn’t want him anymore...but, he can breathe. She's not looking away. She's not pushing past him. She's not ignoring him.

He can breathe. She’s still here.

#white lilies #naruhina fanfic #naruhina angst #romance #canon divergent au #hanahaki #no the last #merry christmas #naruhina fanfiction

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sebastianshaw · 4 years

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(I got stuff done with alt-Marauders who aren’t Haven and the Shaw! Pyro and Claudine, for @sammysdewysensitiveeyes! Sorry, I feel bad I kind of had Pyro get shut down in this one? I meant for the conversation to be less hostile but it ended up as kinda being SO THERE! at him? It just flowed that way, I hope it’s still enjoyable for you!) “Hey I know you’re friends with old Moneybags but don’t get on my ass like he does too!” Pyro had been awoken from a pile of bottles on the deck by Claudine, and he was in no mood for the talking-to she was besieging him with. “Come on, Claud, I thought we were pals!” “We are, and PALS don’t wreck my lab!” “I wasn’t in your lab!” “You were close enough that the flames you were setting off could react with chemicals in it! And then there wouldn’t be a lab! Or a ship for that matter.” “Alright alright I take your point,” Pyro said, hauling himself up, “Won’t do it again.” “I don’t believe that.” Pyro’s eyebrow raised, “You calling me a liar, love?.” “I’m saying most people don’t remember their promises when drunk.” “Well, I won’t get drunk on the ship.” Now Claudine’s brow raised. “Alright I won’t get THAT drunk on the ship,” he amended. “Right,” she said disbelievingly, “Even if you’re drinking with Shinobi so he’s not drinking alone.” “Hey now that’s not fair,” said Pyo. He felt defensive of Shinobi even though she was exactly right, and in fact BECAUSE she was exactly right. “True, sometimes it’s the other way around.” Pyro’s jaw dropped, “What is that supposed to mean?!” Claudine turned, and said over her shoulder, “I’d rather not be cruel to a friend, John. Just don’t get drunk on the boat.” “No, you tell me what that means!” St. John was NOT letting it go, hhe could TELL Claudine seen some weakness in him like she had Shinobi and he wanted to know it so he could tell her how wrong she was---especially if she was right. But she was just walking away instead, dismissing him. “Hey!” he reached out and grabbed her wrist. And Claudine Renko, Miss Sinister, turned and looked at him. And in that moment, knew he fucked up. The next moment, he was flying into the ocean.

After he’d hauled himself out, he’d been ready to torch her lab on purpose just out of sheer SPITE, or at least turn all her clothes to ashes, but after a long shower to wash away the saltwater and a nap to sleep away the hangover, he’d calmed down a bit. He did come to her lab though. ”Hey, uh...can I come in, Claudine?” ”Sure.” Okay, she didn’t sound angry, but not FRIENDLY either. He stepped in, but not too close. “Hey, uh, listen, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of put my hands on you.” “No, you shouldn’t have, “ she said, not looking up from her computer, though St. John noticed she wasn’t actually typing on it, “It was most unwise.” “I don’t normally uh...I mean look in a fight all bets are off, but I don’t normally grab a lady like that. Just you’re kinda like Maddie to me. She turned her head and smirked, “One of the boys?” Pyro smiled, “Well yeah, you’re fun, you know, but still a lady and it was wrong. Don’t mean to be sexist but my Gran raised me with manners. “Gran didn’t raise you with self-preservation though I guess,” Claudine was between smirk and smile now, “But much appreciated.” She turned her chair around and continued, “It’s really nothing against you, I just REALLY don’t want this place going sky-high.” “Nah nah I get it!” Pyro put up his hands, “I’ll be way more careful and tell Shin we gotta keep the partying on land. Can’t say he’ll listen but hey he’s not the one you gotta worry about right?” “Well, that depends,” Claudine said, “His phasing does disrupt electrical systems, but I’ll have a talk with him.” “I don’t recommend threats, they just make him er...” “Horny, I know. Don’t worry. If the stick doesn’t work, I’ll try to proverbial carrot. Thanks for coming by, Pyro.” “We good?” “We’re very good. And I’m sorry about tossing you into the water. I should have just knocked you back.” “Ah, it’s fine! I was wondering though---” He could tell from her face that she knew what was coming “--what you meant about---” Claudine cut him off with a sigh, “Really, St.John? We JUST made up.” “Yeah really. Come on, let’s get it out in the open.” She sighed again, “It’ll drive you crazy if I don’t, huh?” “Yup.” “Which is not my problem, but you’ll make it my problem.” “Yup.” “You’re a real pest, you know that?” “Yup!” A third sigh, “Alright, fine, here it is.” She put him in mind of exasperated older sister he’d never had. ”Shinobi parties because of his issues, you because of yours. And it’s easy to see what his probably are---I mean you’ve MET Sebastian---and I don’t know much about you, but knowing what I do, not hard to guess. You left quite a legacy.” And just like that, he was set off again, all attempts at making up forgotten. Through the slew of outraged Aussie slang, Claudine shouted, “Hey! You asked! And I’m not insulting you! I’m just saying what happened!” “Well it’s a low blow!” “Well it’s right isn’t it?” “That’s why you shouldn't have said it!” he said, and then realized by saying that he’d just admitted she was indeed right. But rather than being satisfied at this confirmation, Claudine just looked irritated, ”Look, you got a raw deal. I understand why you don’t want it brought up. And why you’ve got to just act like an idiot sometimes. But no one here is looking down at you for dying, so chill.” “Chill?! Chill?!” All the her bunsen burners in the room erupted in flames, ”Do you know what I went through?! Do you?!” Claudine addressed him in a glowering calm, “Yes. I know exactly what you went through. The way the Legacy virus worked it would begin inserting introns--junk DNA sequences--into the transcription codings of the victim's mutant RNA. It literally changed your DNA. Your disease was no longer just an invader, it was a part of you. I can relate to that, Pyro. I’m living with the same thing every day---LOOK at me!” He did. And he thought of how the longer and longer he’d had the virus, he had seen it in the mirror more and more. The lumps, the lesions, at a certain point he hadn’t been looking at himself anymore, he’d been looking at the sickness itself in a flesh suit. He still saw it sometimes. And he realized what it must be like for her to see this ghost-white face and red diamond reflected back at her in every glass, in every eye that looked at her, in every mind she read. The flames went down. ”I...” “And don’t think it’s not the same because I wasn’t going to die. I was, Pyro. What else do you call it when everything that’s YOU stop existing and becomes someone else? what else do you call it when everything that might scientifically be called a soul is no longer existent in your body?” “Alright, I...” “So I do know what you went through. Your body’s betrayal. Knowing your clock is ticking, but not when it will stop. and the simultaneous relief it’s over, but the disbelief it can really be for real, and no idea how to cope with that. So that also means... She inhaled deeply and looked down, ”I do know I shouldn’t have gone there.” There was a long silence between them. And then she put a hand on his shoulder. And he smiled at her. And she smiled back, “Now get the hell out of my lab, dude, before the sprinklers go off!”

#st john allerdyce #Claudine Renko #miss sinister #fic #writing #alt marauders #out of shirt

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aki-draws-things · 4 years

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[and it's finally done, a little written companion to the drawing.]

@soetpotatis there, our reckless kitten doing reckless things... How strange!

***

“The law is… law. And I warned you, and everyone, Mercutio, disrupting the peace would end like this.”

What was worse was that Mercutio didn't even flinch at his words, he stared at the floor, nodded silently, but nothing else. Because he knew, because he was right, because he deserved it and he was the first to say so.

When tybalt rushed out that morning he was angry, understandably angry, any Capulet would say, he wanted romeo's head, now even more than before. He tolerated him and his cousin for too long, because of mercutio, but this was beyond saving.

What he didn't expect, while he should've, was that Mercutio would step between them, that he would laugh at him in such a manner, that he would draw a knife at him. Of all people.

In truth they did it many times before, it was more of a game than an actual duel, neither really wanting to bring any harm to the other. It was a game, dangerous as it may be, but still a game.

Until a sharp pain shooted up from his side, a cold shiver ran through his body and he dropped the knife. Romeo jumped in between them to stop what looked actually serious on the outside, he tried to lunge forward, Mercutio tried to push him back and Romeo out of the way. In that mess of bodies and screams a blade went through his flesh leaving him stunned for a moment. Mercutio felt it too, he felt his hand, the one holding the knife hitting something, he felt a soft fabric brushing against his fingers, for a second he wished he accidentally stabbed himself, except there was no pain.

Tybalt gave a weak moan, a little almost suppressed sob, his eyes wide in fear and pain as he staggered back, the knife sliding out as Mercutio still had it in his hand, - and now he felt warm blood falling on his hand. He wanted to throw up. And cry. - he pressed a hand against the side, trying to keep the blood from flowing out, then his legs gave out and he fell.

Mercutio let go the knife and fell on his knees taking Tybalt in his arms, cradling him gently as a whimper escaped his lips with blood. He was scared, not for himself, not of his uncle, for tybalt. For what he did to him. He almost wished for him to get angry, it shouldn't be too hard, right? He was already angry. Except not at Mercutio. He learned early that tybalt, the real tybalt, could never get truly angry with those he loved that much. It was a facade he had to show.

"it's okay… It's okay… - he trembled, tried to smile at him, caressed his cheek leaving a trail of blood on it before even keeping his arm up was too much for what little strength he had left. - it's not your fault."

Sometimes mercutio hated him. Because sometimes he looked like the most innocent being in that hell, because with him he laid down all the walls and fears and hate and he was just -- a boy. They all were just boys. Death should be so far from them, not creeping at their every steps.

"Don't cry, - tybalt begged him weakly, his face sickeningly pale, much more than than usual. - you know I hate it, love."

There was blood on the ground. Blood on his shirt, on his hands, in his face, on tybalt. All he could see was blood when strong hands grabbed him from the shoulders, forced him to let go of tybalt's body, - his eyes now closed, a trail of blood from his lips, laying on the street so still and pale. He wanted to grab his knife, plunge it in his own heart and fall by his side. - raised until he was in his feet and facing the Prince.

His eyes shifted from the young boy in front of him, his nephew, the boy he swore he would always protect, and the boy on the ground. So, that was it, then? That was his city. His Verona. Boys killing each other over a feud not even their parents know how it started? That was his nephew. His blood. But he gave them laws, he threatened them. They would pay next time the peace was disrupted, no matter who did it. Now he had to go in with it. He had to punish him. He had to kill him.

For one who constantly discussed his authority, Mercutio was extraordinarily silent. Never once he opened his mouth, never once he tried to defend himself. He waited, patiently, for the moment his uncle would kill him and finally give him peace. Because life now, with the weight of his action, was too much like hell. The only thing he said, over and over in the past five days was a muttered "I'm sorry.", only when the prince find him not answering any of his questions he realized he wasn't apologizing to him.

He never saw them, he never knew of them. In Truth the Prince was almost too sure they were enemies. Well, of course his nephew would feel guilty, he took a life, guilt was only natural, even if it was an enemy. - he heard that the young Capulet was still fighting for his life, weakly, and maybe with not many chances, but he was fighting. So the execution was postponed and anything that mercutio could use as a weapon was taken from him leaving him in a bare room with only himself and his guilt. -

"maybe there's a way to make the prince change his mind. Given that my cousin survived maybe…"

"I don't know… I don't think…" they're voices were soft behind the closed door. Tybalt tried to move out of the bed slowly, the stitches pulled at every movement, it hurt to even sit in bed. But he couldn't stay.

"he's going to kill him julia… - romeo's voice broke. - I tried to talk to him already but…"

Pain shot up from the side, tybalt almost feared he was going to faint right were he stood. He was sure he pulled the stitches open too, he had no time to check, not now. He didn't care either in truth.

It used to be easy to sneak out from his window, he did it so many times before, sure, never while being this much wounded, this much weakened. By the time he reached the bottom he already was out of breath and trembling with pain.

But mercutio… Mercutio was-- the prince would--

He ran. As much as he was able to without fainting or feeling sick. He felt both, he felt the blood oozing from the side.

He was pale, ghostly white, when he reached the palace, staggering inside and asking to see the Prince, begging them to take him to him, claiming it was important, vital. Demanding to see him at all cost until the man, hearing the commotion outside the room came outside to find the young Capulet his nephew almost killed being restrained by his guards as he pleaded to have a word with him.

"have your word now, boy." Tybalt tried to stand from the chair the Prince led him to after dismissing the guards and taking him in the room, pain once again shot from the wound making him double over. He whimpered holding the wound with both hands, his vision turned dark for a moment, and his head was pounding so much he feared it would split. He felt so pathetic now.

"spare him…" he whispered through the pain.

"why?" the Prince knelt before him, his hands holding tybalt's shoulder to prevent him from falling. For how pale he was, he also was terribly warm, it was a surprise he was still conscious. - the Prince made a quick gesture to some servant tybalt didn't notice to go call a doctor before ot was late. -

"he… - tybalt swayed lightly, he fell forward and rested the forehead against the Prince's shoulder. - it was an accident."

"he spilled blood, almost killed a man, almost killed you, child. Should I simply spare him and let Verona think he can get away with it because he's my nephew?"

Tybalt's breath was labored, he needed a medic, and he needed one now. How did he even managed to reach the palace in those conditions? And what for? Beg him?

"I love him… - he admitted, and well, that was quite the surprise indeed. - I'm the one asking you for mercy. Tell Verona I asked for his life to be spared. It wouldn't be your decision, my lord…"

"a Capulet asking for mercy--" his words stopped as tybalt went limp against him.

That wasn't ideal, and Verona would have a hard time understanding probably, they would think of a favoritism of some kind no matter how much he would claim the contrary, but could he really refuse his request after risking his life to this extent? He claimed to love mercutio, he defended him, he went all the way to him just for him, he sounded sincere enough for him.

"mercutio…"

The boy barely lift his head at the call. He was tired, of everything. Tired of waiting, tired of living with the guilt of what he did, tired of his uncle's look.

"mercutio, my child, can you stand?"

There, even in the last hours he acted kind, did he think this would help him with the guilt later? He knew his uncle, he would feel guilty even with doing the right thing. Was he still his child even after killing a man? After killing tybalt? His Tybalt. The man he loved more than everything? Was he still a child?

He stood and kept his eyes on the floor, in shame, in regret, in grief. He would join tybalt soon, he would soon be free.

The prince led him to a room, one of the guest rooms of the palace, made him sit and without a word he cleaned him up and patched the scratches and cuts. Did he have to look clean in death? Well, maybe he did.

"come now, someone is waiting for you."

Oh, yes, yes. Someone was indeed waiting, on the he was right. Except now he led him to yet another room, he ushered him inside and mercutio could only stare wide eyed at the form on the bed. Was that some kind of sadistic joke?

"he came all the way here - the Prince said gently as he had to push mercutio forward until the red head was in front of the bed. - in such conditions, to beg for mercy."

Alive. Tybalt was alive. Well, he was breathing at least, unconscious, suffering, pale and burning up with a fever. But he was alive. His tybalt.

He fell on his knees, tybalt's hand gently held in his, he kissed it, stroked the knuckles, he tried to suppress a sob bubbling from his throat, and failed.

"I'm sorry… I-- tybalt I'm sorry…" he whispered leaning closer to him and placing a kiss on his lips. Every part of his skin seemed to be on fire.

"so, I grant you his mercy." but mercutio wasn't listening anymore, everything of him too occupied to fret over the hurt boy before him, the boy he hurt. There would be time later for his uncle's words to fall on him and realize their meaning. Now only tybalt was important. Nothing else, no one else.

"what were you thinking?" for the next month or so that question would be everything tybalt would hear, from everyone. Mercutio, Julia, his uncle, even romeo and benvolio, and the Prince. Because apparently running out of his house with a not yet healed wound and a fever that high was a very stupid thing to do and people in Verona found pleasure to remind him that.

Mercutio at least was by his side, stroking his hair gently, wiping away the sweat and cooling his face when the temperature rose during the nights. Mercutio was always there. When he was asleep, when he was awake, during some delirious dreams, he had a fresh washcloth in his hand, wet his lips when he was too weak to drink. Always there, always around.

What was he thinking, they kept asking. He never answered, - still too out and weak to actually understand and grasp their words. - he only looked up at Mercutio and gave him a tentative smile before slipping in a dream less sleep once more.

#Tycutio #Hurt tybalt #Guilty mercutio #angst with a happy ending #(also the prince is quite done with those boys... Poor man)#Cutio is so convinced he killed tybalt #And tybs is too damn reckless for his own good.#Romeo es julia #Resj #Aki writes

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danaslewis · 4 years

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Please listen to my podcast! Subscribe and share.

https://backstorywithdanalewis.buzzsprout.com

BACK STORY with DANA LEWIS

FOOD CHAIN PANDEMIC MAY 27, 2020 DANA LEWIS BACK STORY with DANA LEWIS FOOD CHAIN PANDEMIC

#danalewis #caitlinwelsh #foodsupply. #hunger

TRANSCRIPT

CHAPTER MARKERS

1: 0:00

Dana - At this time of great uncertainty in many of our normal routines and regular patterns of life are being challenged. The food and farming sector is no exception. If we are to harvest British fruit and vegetables this year, we need an army of people to help. Food does not happen by magic.

Speaker 2: 0:21

Hi everyone and welcome to

Speaker 3: 0:23

backstory. I'm your host Dana Lewis. That familiar boys was Prince Charles. It was called for an army of people defined it.

Speaker 2: 0:31

Jobs on the UK is fruit and vegetable farms because they are desperately short of people to pick this year's crops, closed European borders, people sick from COvid 19 that all makes for a dire harvest and it's a similar story from Europe to Canada and America and onto Asia. In this our latest edition of backstory, the delicate international food supply chain is rattled and some might say very near broken

Speaker 4: 1:10

[inaudible].

Speaker 2: 1:11

Caitlin Welsh is the director of the global food security program at the center for strategic and international studies. Hi Kaitlin.

Speaker 5: 1:18

Hi Dana.

Speaker 2: 1:20

As we speak, Prince Charles in the UK is asking people as in war time to go and pick food before it spoils in the fields. What's happening to labor and the flow of workers worldwide in this pandemic. If you could just kind of paint a general picture.

Speaker 5: 1:36

Sure. I think that's a great question. A great place to start. What we're seeing right now is a food crisis on a global scale and it's not due to the fact that there's not enough food available worldwide. It's due to disruptions across different aspects of food systems and that, uh, that, that request by Prince Charles, um, to me pinpoints access to food with, uh, with, with harvesting food. Um, and the, the particular issue there could have to do with availability of labor. Um, w uh, one thing that we're seeing worldwide is disruptions in labor flows. So that could, that could be one of the reasons that Prince Charles made that, um, made that request. Um, and, uh, also I think that he's, he's probably doing that to, uh, to reduce the amount of food loss and waste worldwide. Um, it was already very high before the pandemic. Um, but we're seeing because supply chains that they're very, very efficient. They're not flexible though. Um, and, uh, when for a variety of reasons, farmers are not able to reach markets, what we're seeing is, uh, is huge amounts of, of, of food loss, unfortunately. Um,

Speaker 2: 2:37

I want to talk to you about that. French fishermen say they're throwing back two thirds of their cash. Australia is facing an avocado glut. A farmer in Ontario, Canada now feed some of his milk back to his cows, but there is a limit to what can be recycled. Um, you know, most of what can not be sold will be wasted. Millions of liters of cake is going stale. The EU is expecting to lose $430 million worth of potatoes. So America's food waste ratio, um, where you are, is set to rise 30 to 40% this year. I mean, these are huge problems.

Speaker 5: 3:18

They really are. And again, they were problems before the pandemic and they're there. They're actually worse right now. I'll give you some more examples of what we're seeing in the United States. There was one chicken processing company that killed 2 million chickens in April. We had another that smashed a three quarters of a million of eggs in one week. Um, I think one of the biggest tragedies is with farmers who raise animals having to call their herds. So essentially kill the animals because they can't send them to meat processing plants. Um, and so we, uh, so we're seeing that in the, um, you know, in the tens of thousands per week across the U S um, so what's happening there is a, there's a, a couple of things. One of the main things is that, um, in, in March and into April, orders from restaurants and not just restaurants, but other places where people gathered to eat. So sports arenas, cafeterias at universities, um, public spaces generally, um, those orders fell off of a cliff as people were no longer able to gather. So farmers who are raising animals, um, and growing growing crops for those, um, to, for those establishments no longer had markets for their goods. So they were forced to, um, and they couldn't adjust quickly enough. They couldn't pivot. And so, um, they had no choice but to, but to waste their food, there's destroy their product.

Speaker 2: 4:32

Why do they have to call beef or call chickens or call, uh, pigs? W why is that? Because they cannot get the seed or they cannot afford, uh, to keep those animals longer without sending them to a meat processing plant or what is the problem?

Speaker 5: 4:50

Yeah. Um, a couple of reasons. One of them is that, um, when it comes to the pig supply chains, in particular, farmers who raise pigs don't invest in enough space to, um, to keep, to keep pigs or they're used to large amounts of product flowing through. So they, um, they, they'll raise them until they get to a certain size. Um, and then once they reach a certain size and they'll ship them off to be, um, to the, to the meat packing plants to be, um, to be processed for consumption. Um, but, uh, when the meat processing plants can no longer take them, it means that the pigs continue to grow in size. Um, and farmers simply don't have space to, um, to, to keep them and, um, and, and are forced. And, and again, uh, one thing that's very important is that farmers don't want to be making this decision. They, um, they're invested in their product and, um, and they're doing this only by necessity right now.

Speaker 2: 5:38

And yet you have meat shortages, uh, in some supermarkets in America. Why is that?

Speaker 5: 5:45

You're seeing that because of, because the meat processing plants are being taken offline. And that is because, um, not because of, you know, because of there's a problem inherent to the meat processing plant. It's because of worker. And I think that that's one of the most important things that's been a problem in the youth us meat industry for decades. Um, but the reason that meat processing plants are being taken offline is because of higher rates of, uh, of illness or even seeing death. Because of 19, almost 15,000 meat workers had been infected with coronavirus in meat packing facilities across the United States. And that's across 31 States. So this is a nationwide problem. We've known about this for several weeks. Uh, hundreds of cases, uh, in, in the panhandle in Texas. So it's because meat worker illness at meat packing plants is taking those offline and then, um, just back up one a few steps from there. And farmers who raised animals to send to those facilities are no longer able to send them there.

Speaker 2: 6:41

I mean, obviously you couldn't see this exact situation coming, but could you see the danger, uh, over the last 20 years of increased concentration of farms? I mean, America's poultry market for instance. Uh, you can correct me if I'm wrong. I believe it's controlled by just four companies. Is that a good thing?

Speaker 5: 6:59

Um, yeah. Not only that, but I believe, um, 90% of chickens, uh, uh, raised in the United States are, are part of virtual vertical integration. Meaning that the farmers that raise them don't actually own them. Uh, they don't sell them. They raise them to sell them to other processors. I think that's an example of what you're talking about. Um, what we're seeing in the United States is, is that we have an incredibly efficient food system, but that efficiency has come at the cost of flexibility so that when you have disruptions like the ones we're seeing today, producers are unable to pivot, um, uh, to, to, to shift their products to other markets. So for example, um, you have farmers and ranchers raising their product to sell to a very specific consumer. So that consumer might be a specific restaurant or specific type of restaurant. When that restaurant no longer, um, can, can take in an order, those producers are not able to pivot so they can sell the product to a different, um, to a different consumer like to grocery stores. And that's because, um, you have different packaging needs at different outlets. Um, it's because you have different labeling needs at different outlets. Um, for example, if you are raising a, a particular prime cut of beef, um, that a restaurant can no longer take, the producer is unable to grind that beef to send it to a grocery store. Um, you just simply have very, very specialized supply chains that are unable to, that are again, very, very efficient but unable to, to, um, but that are in an inflexible,

Speaker 2: 8:22

is this a disruption of bump on the road or are we in a spiral of the food supply chain?

Speaker 5: 8:29

I think that we're not out of the woods yet. Um, I think that things will start to get better slowly. We're seeing hunger unprecedented in modern times, the United States alongside images of mass food loss and waste. Um, I think that the public is aware of this crisis in a way that they haven't been recently. Um, and um, and so I, I'd be surprised if we don't take a hard look at our food systems that things don't change after this, particularly regarding worker health.

Speaker 2: 8:56

I mean, a lot of people, when they think of hunger, think of third world, they do not think of America.

Speaker 5: 9:02

Yeah. Um, so we're, we're seeing, um, shocking rates of hunger here. It's not because there's not enough food available. It's because destructions all across the system and it's also because of the economic downturn generally. And that's the one of the main reasons for food insecurity in the United States and worldwide. Well, you have an economic downturn. Um, and our, the fed chair Jerome Powell said that this downturn, um, the scope and speed of this downturn or without modern precedent, and so of course you're going to see food insecurity without precedent. One of the most shocking statistics that came out of a study that was released last week by the Brookings institution found that, um, in one in five households where, um, where their children 12 and under and one in five, um, the children were experiencing food insecurity and the researchers concluded that young children are experiencing food insecurity to an extent, unprecedented in modern times,

Speaker 2: 9:56

uh, around the world. It must be much worse than that depending on where you are

Speaker 5: 10:00

exactly, depending on where you are. Um, before the pandemic, there are a couple indicators. We had 820 million people around 820 million who were chronically undernourished. So that, that, that's a very high baseline to start with before the pandemic. Um, that was a, um, an estimate by the UN food and agricultural organization and some others. Um, the UN world food program had estimated before the pandemic that in addition there were about 130 million people who are at risk of sudden shocks to food to food security. So at risk of just for different reasons being thrown into food insecurity. That was before the pandemic.

Speaker 2: 10:37

Now you and I have another statistic, the UN estimates economic fallout from covert 19 could see the number of people suffering from acute hunger doubled to over 265 million this year. Does that kind of jive with what you've heard?

Speaker 5: 10:49

It does. That's exactly where I was going. So before the pandemic, they, they estimate 130 million and then they, because of the pandemic, they estimate that the number of people that could be thrown into food insecurity could double the two 65 million acute food insecurity just because of sudden shocks. Um, and uh, yeah, related to the pandemic.

Speaker 2: 11:05

And all of this is internationally now tied together, right? It's not that you domestically produce food and sell domestically. Often Ukrainian wheat for instance, milled to flour in Turkey turned to noodles in China. I mean a lot of the food supplies link,

Speaker 5: 11:22

absolutely global trade is, uh, is essential to food security for countries around the world. United States for example, we rely on imports to meet about 15% of our domestic food needs. That that proportion is much higher in developing countries where their agriculture sectors are not as, uh, not, not as advanced. Um, so, uh, so developing countries are much more susceptible to, um, to, to shocks and global trade. What we're seeing right now is about 15 countries have limited exports of their own food so that they can, they can, they can in an effort to meet their own domestic food needs. Um, policy analyses show that those aren't, aren't actually very, are, are not effective measures. Um, but what we're hoping is that that number does not rise and that it actually decreases.

Speaker 2: 12:07

That's, that's becomes a very serious situation. If you have countries saying, we're not going to export food, we're going to keep it for domestic consumption. In a crisis.

Speaker 5: 12:15

It absolutely does. Um, the last time that there was a major global food crisis was about 12 years ago, is 2007 and 2008 and at that time about 33 countries put export restrictions in place. And that, um, the effect of that was that it, um, it increased, it increased food prices such that it through, um, about 40 million more people into food insecurity because of those export restrictions. Uh, at that time, about about 12 years ago, 2007, 2008, there were about 45 countries that experienced riots worldwide. Um, some of which led to, to, um, to political change again, right now in the United States and worldwide, the crisis is not because there's not enough food available, but it's because of shocks across the system for all the things that we're mentioning for food processing, sales, um, economic downturn, reducing individual's ability to purchase food, et cetera.

Speaker 2: 13:02

Caitlin, great to talk to you. Thanks so much. All right. Steve Groff joins me now from South Eastern Pennsylvania. He is a farmer. He has tomatoes and spaghetti squash and other things. But he also, and probably more importantly for us lectures on farming, he's been all over the world. He's written a book called the future proof farm. And Steve, I think you may have to rewrite it after COBIT 19.

Speaker 6: 13:31

Well, you know, it's kinda timely in a way. When I wrote this book, I had no idea that Cobra 19 was coming on, but the Futureproof farm has to do with how we grow our food. And a big component of it is trying to think about things using the nutrient density or the nutrients and vitamins they're actually in our food and that occurs the way we grow it. And uh, so actually the book is very timely, but as you said, Dana, I uh, I am thinking about writing a follow up here at some

Speaker 2: 14:01

farmers were saying it's a bloodbath in terms of food production. I mean, really all over the world people are facing incredible challenges. But in the wake of COBIT 19 America, which has a $100 billion farm economy, it's got some deep trouble.

Speaker 6: 14:16

Well, there's some chinks in the armor. Have been come to light because of COBIT 19, and it's all because of our Justin time food supply system. And uh, because of the workers, it's actually the human component of that. And that's what we heard all about the meat shortages. It's because there are humans, there are people that need to be in the processing factories to be able to do that. So obviously that creates some challenges. Either the people get sick or they're afraid to come to work and you just can't, uh, do your, just the assembly line when you have people missing. And

Speaker 2: 14:52

I going to adjust. What does it mean just in time food supply?

Speaker 6: 14:57

Um, let's just take vegetables for example. You, we grow the vegetables and they're ripe during a certain period of time. Their, their shelf life is very small. And uh, so you harvest them the, the, you know, a few days before they're right. And then they have to be processed and packaged. That takes human effort in almost all cases. And then they get delivered to the stores. So from the time a product is harvested, so it gets to the stores is a matter of days. And then if you have a in the middle of that, if you have a section of that or that doesn't, um, allow for humans who will say in this case to do the processing, but then it's either ceased or stopped and then by that time the tomatoes may rot because they don't stay for three or four weeks. And so then we don't have them. And that's part of it. The other aspect is food service, restaurants, schools, um, businesses even is 50% of the use of food. And the way food is directed for food service is different than it is to grocery stores. It's different packaging, different sizes, even different varieties. I grow specific varieties, a butternut squash for grocery stores and other varieties of butternut squash for restaurant.

Speaker 2: 16:13

Okay, well let's, let's just stop there for a second. Because restaurants, you're saying that's 50%. I mean that market just collapsed.

Speaker 6: 16:21

It did, it did. So you would, you know, you would think, well, okay, people have to eat so you can automatically just switch to food instead of going to a restaurant. It just goes to a grocery store. Well, it's not that simple because as I said, packaging and sizes and a whole host of things, there's a few things that can go to both, uh, end users, but not a lot. And that's,

Speaker 2: 16:44

so that's where, that's why we see, that's why we see in that system a farmer saying that they have to plow these crops under, which, I mean it's horrendous given the fact that there are food shortages.

Speaker 6: 16:58

It is. And, and it's all because of between the farmer and the end user. That's the problem.

Speaker 2: 17:06

So what, how should that change? I mean, is this a wake up call? Is there something positive that comes out of this?

Speaker 6: 17:13

Yes. Um, there certainly is. And I think moving forward we're going to have to consider more of the direct marketing, the farmers to sell more directly to consumers. And I would encourage consumers to seek out farmers who are able to sell directly. And I'm a small farmer myself. So, uh, any time that I can be more direct to consumer, that may even put a bigger share of the dollar will say Hey into, into my pocket and people can get it more, uh, more directly as well. So I think, uh, the uptick in interest of locally grown, for instance, I think we'll continue. That's not going to serve all our food needs and that's not the point. The point is we need to be aware of some of these safeguards and we probably need to put you putting in place here and going more direct to the farmers is definitely one of those safe parts.

Speaker 2: 18:05

Do you think the federal government saying things like they want to stop food at the border, they want to keep it inside the United States is a good thing or is that kind of protectionism a dangerous thing?

Speaker 6: 18:17

I, you know, it's a two way street. Um, as we've always said for a while it's a, it's a small world out there and I guess like it or not, you know, we do need to reply. We needed to do you need to re re um, rely on some other nations that are closed. But that being said, I think this, uh, Cobra 19 has also brought up the fact that we do need a, you know, don't outsource too much. Uh, I guess so. I would be a big proponent of doing as local as possible. And that means even from a national perspective, uh, we can grow plenty of food. It's that it's not a food shortage as far as growing it. It's the system that is not serving us well right now.

Speaker 2: 19:00

My mother originally came from Western Canada, from Saskatchewan and I've been up there where they were huge wheat farming and I know, um, I mean I grew up on a, I grew up on a cow farm, but I know from the wheat farmers that you just don't plant a crop one year in advance. I mean, you were doing rotation crop crops and you were planning far into the future, you know, at least three years anyway. When you're doing farm leases. What does this suddenly do to everyone? How does a farmer plan now for next year? They must put everybody upside down and, and, and, and how does that translate into the food chain?

Speaker 6: 19:37

Yeah, I think, uh, we're all thinking about that. Um, my son and I who farms on my plans, my son farms with me here, we've been discussing that uh, here right now, right now short term and we are actually trying to have focus more on the grocery stores and we're actually changing up some varieties here at the last minute cause we still have time to do that. Our planning system or planting window has not closed yet. So we're trying to adjust like for the near term, which the near term for us is three or four months. Uh, but as we move forward there's still so many all Nunes out there of now. Now it's not so much of how steep is the curve going to be. I think we've flattened the curve, if you will. Now it's how will the reopening work, how is the timeline and what will come out of this? Obviously there's political influences at play right now that we feel like it's hard to have any control over. So it's more of a day to day thing or week to week thing. Now, Dana, as we move forward,

Speaker 2: 20:39

I'm not going to hit the consumer or is it going to hit the consumer? Well, I'm going to see it on the grocery shelves.

Speaker 6: 20:45

I think we will in form or fashion. I just saw this morning that there was some restaurants that opened up, they're putting a Qubit 19 surcharge on the bottom of their bill and it was like, of course the customers aren't too thrilled about that. And I have myself, I'm thinking, wow, that's, I don't think that's gonna fly, but it'll probably, um, I guarantee you the price of food is not going down. Uh,

Speaker 2: 21:09

are we going to have enough? Are we gonna have enough?

Speaker 6: 21:13

I, I think we will. That to me, I'm not afraid of, uh, uh, we can grow the, we can grow the product. Uh, there, there could be some labor shortage is actually, I'm, I'm suffering that a little bit now and getting my, my labor, I think I'll be getting it on time for June, July and August when I'm busiest, but they're not here yet. And, um, it is, it is, it is a somewhat of a challenge and that end of it, but I'm not too concerned about a shortage of food. I'm concerned more about the supply chain and how that's going to work out.

Speaker 2: 21:46

When you say they're not here yet, who are they, where are they coming from and will they come?

Speaker 6: 21:52

Right. So I use the uh, United States H to H program, which is the legal way to bring in, um, foreign workers. I've been doing that for the last 16 years, I guess now. It's worked very well.

Speaker 2: 22:06

Are they coming from outside the U S

Speaker 6: 22:08

yes, the ones I am getting are from the country of Thailand. So, uh, they are right now there's being delayed because the embassy was shut down where they need to get their visas. So we're waiting for that. Um, but it hasn't impacted me dramatically that yet, but it will, uh, if, if there's further delays, so

Speaker 2: 22:27

where are they going to sleep? You, you obviously have housing there for them. How many do you have in a room and it must change all of that.

Speaker 6: 22:34

Yeah. Yeah. We have a, we have housing here and we have gotten some of the updated requirements of that. And um, to this point, it's something I believe we can handle. I guess I'm always aware that things change weekly here and this is more of a political thing. The department of labor sets those standards and so forth. So we're going to kind of have to roll with it. And I would just say if, um, if regulations come on us that are onerous that just force us to increase our costs or whatever that means, you know, it's going to have to be passed on.

Speaker 2: 23:07

And I guess when they talk about people going hungry, even if you have farmers that have product, if prices increase, there are a lot of people that unfortunately will not be able to afford this stuff. And a lot of it doesn't get the food banks.

Speaker 6: 23:21

I have been involved with food banks anyway, so I kind of have that channel already open. I don't really expect, yeah, thank you. But I don't expect a high, I'm just super high, you know, double the price of food. I don't expect that. But I don't expect some prices to come up on the retail side, on the farmer side. You know, we just don't know. I think, like you said, grain farmers right now, it's, it's not good. It's not looking good. The futures are not good. There's so many uncertainties out there that we just don't know. You know what's going to happen until the end of this year. And in the next,

Speaker 2: 23:58

Steve Groff, the author of a book called the future proof farm, uh, which, which is getting to be very difficult to future proof yourself in this situation. Thank you so much.

Speaker 6: 24:10

Yeah, you're welcome, Dana. My pleasure.

Speaker 2: 24:12

The food crisis has already spilled over into kitchens. A recent poll in Britain shows over half the people are valuing food more with 48% say they're throwing away less food of those wasting less people say they're planning meals more carefully and they're getting a lot better at using leftovers. Shopping habits have shifted to a quarter of the people surveyed say they're getting better at buying quality food is they're not going out and spending money on other things. While more than a third of the people are supporting smaller local business more than ever before, and a further 42% say they're not buying takeaways because money is tight. That's another edition of backstory. Please share our Lincoln substance

Speaker 3: 24:55

drive to the podcast feed. I'm Dana Lewis. Thanks for listening to backstory.

Speaker 7: 25:23

[inaudible].

#danalewis backstorypodcast. backstory caitlinwelsh hunger foodchain

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countofcrows · 5 years

Text

Adolescence

Being a teenager is hard.

a short drabble set in a high school setting where Sougo has a mild crush on kagura but wont admit it.

word count: 2576

She moves with a catlike grace in the crowded space of the school halls. Children dart awkwardly around her, careful not to get in her way as she waves her arms and twists on the tips of her toes. Her friends laugh; giggling behind their hands as they watch with curious eyes to see where this performance of hers will take them. It’s a small show put on just for them; to keep her friends happy. It’s her number one priority--it always has been.

Sougo watches from a distance, eyes narrowed and transfixed on the girl at the end of the hall. Her red hair, the colour of fully bloomed poppies, flies behind her and leaves a trail of liquid fire in its wake. When she turns on a dime, her locks catch up to her body once more, crashing against her like waves of a crimson sea. Sougo watches her laugh and brush loose fly-aways from her face, spitting her hair from her mouth when it catches along her bow-shaped lips. Her friends laugh harder as she contorts her face, and she plays up her fuss to keep them entertained.

She must have felt him staring at her--really, he wasn’t trying to hide it. Her eyes flicker past her friends and meet with his own. Her azure blue eyes are a stark contrast to his rusted crimson--the colour of dried, stagnant blood, and just as lifeless--and there’s a brief flicker of curiosity in them. She bounces up onto her tippy-toes, the motion as fluid as a trained ballerina, to give her some added height while trapped behind a sea of kids looking to get to their next class.

They maintain eye contact for another moment. It feels almost endless, like an empty sea of time that stretches between them. The silence carries a weight Sougo feels deep in his chest. An indescribable pain that is like a scratching in the pit of his stomach. A hurried, anxious clawing full of impatience that nags at him in the back of his brain like he’s missing out for keeping his distance.

What are you waiting for? Go talk to her!

Standing here won’t earn you any brownie points.

Coward.

His own silent insecurities shine in this silence. They mock him for his adolescent naivete; snicker and jeer in his face as he remains rooted in place, like a growing tree.

The connection between him and the girl is broken when the hallway fills up enough that kids start bumping into him. His shoulder is jerked and his head pitches forward and his eyes break away from the girl whose violent red hair is swallowed by this seemingly endless sea of pubescent little freaks. He rights himself and narrows his eyes in search of the girl--so tiny, with her birdlike frame and slender wrists--and is surprised by his own disappointment when he does not find her.

He collects himself, both mentally and physically, before going against the flow of students in search of his next class. He avoids eye contact and keeps his balled fists hidden casually in the pockets of his pants and he purposefully ignores the wistful sighs and prolonged glasses of the girls from younger classes.

He thinks of the girl with red hair and bright eyes and remembers with a half smile the first time they had ever met. First day of school, opening ceremony, and Sougo was late to school due to over sleeping. He caught the girl trying to climb the school gate, stuck on the highest point when her skirt is punctured by the metal spikes. She’s cursing and shouting and begging God to give her a break and Sougo sits back and watches in mild amusement while she struggles.

He remembers her noticing him after a while. She calls him out for being a “weirdo pervert who is trying to catch a peek up her skirt” and he rolls his eyes and replies he’s not interested in freshman. He walks away from her and slips through the fence where the rods are weakest and are easily moved (a trick only seasoned veterans of the late variety would know of) and waves sarcastically and wishes her well.

He doesn’t mean it.

She knows he doesn’t.

They had run into each other several times after that. Random instances in time that resulted in some sort of catastrophe. He’s lost several good shirts to her accidentally-on-purpose dumping her lunch on him. He hears her indignant howls in his dreams (or nightmares, really) when he remembers putting gum in her hair once or six times.

They bicker and fought like an old married couple and Sougo was forever known as the third year who let a first year get under his skin. He remained apathetic to the rumours. He always had been. He didn’t care what other kids thought about him while he was having fun.

She had a loud mouth and a boastful personality and she rose to every challenge he ever posed. There was no winning with them, it was simply a silently earned point of respect until their next encounter. They danced around each other with careful choreography and their words were biting and bitter exchanges charged with emotions Sougo didn’t even know he possessed until meeting her.

He’s spent every night for months brainstorming ways to make her miserable. He loses sleep thinking about the faces she will make with his next attack. He ponders strategies in the shower. Scribbles notes for future tactics in his work books.

She consumes his mind like an infection or some sort of advanced tapeworm. His mouth curls in disgust every time she is mentioned to or around him. He laughs in the face of anyone who calls her his friend. The notion makes him sick.

He’s sure it makes her sick, too.

The teachers hate their interactions. Sougo knows that in the staff office they have a board placing bets on how long Sougo and the girl will go without fighting next. Every time the two of them are in the same vicinity, the teachers sigh in exasperation and bicker amongst themselves over who has to deal with the inevitable fall-out.

It’s hilarious, really.

When he gets to class, his eyes stay transfixed on the clock above the door. He watches the hands tick away with increasing impatience. His leg bounces beneath his desk and his pencil taptaptaps against the cover of his unopened notebook. In his peripheral, he can see the sidelong glances and irritated glares from students disrupted by his noises. They can all go to hell, as far as he’s concerned.

He is counting down until school is done. Not for the reason most kids do. No, he isn’t anxious to leave the campus and get home to do hours upon hours of studying. He’s anxious to get to detention.

Detention is Sougo’s favourite part of the day. It’s where he’s trapped in a small little white walled room filled with empty desks and only he and the red haired girl occupy the space. There’s a teacher in there, though usually is it Mr. Sakata, and he’s hardly an excuse for a teacher.

To keep up appearances so as not to disturb Sakata while he naps, Sougo and the red haired girl will bicker under their breath in hushed, heady whispers of snarky remarks and cheeky one-liners. Sougo will often sit behind her, flicking rubber bands at the back of her head or whistling a grating tune. He’s come close to having his face smashed in with a nearby chair, and at this point he’s really just wondering how far he can go until that inevitably happens.

They have detention together almost every day at this point into the year. It’s a wonder how they haven’t been suspended yet, but Sougo thinks that the teachers at their dingy, under-funded little school just simply don’t care enough. He can’t blame them--he wouldn’t either if he was forced to teach the mouthbreathers that occupied the student body.

He stares at the clock until his eyes dry out and his hand goes numb from tapping his pencil back and forth and even then he still persists for a little longer because the seconds that tick by feel like hours and Sougo has never been patient.

When the bell finally rings he jumps up from his seat and carefully catches himself as he starts to slowly pack away his things like a lazy house cat finally stretching after a 12 hour nap. He pretends to bow when asked and follows along the flow of his classmates with heavy and dragging footsteps. He never cared much for appearances, but at this point everyone knew where he was going. They didn’t need to think he was excited for detention, now did they?

He trudges down two flight of stairs and turns down several hallways until he ends up in the detention room. Sakata doesn’t even look up from the copy of Jump he’s reading and Sougo simply walks in breezily like he owns the place.

The girl is sitting by the window, glancing out with a frown and furrowed brow and Sougo wonders what happened between now and the last time he had seen her.

His heart picks up a bit when he sees her. He thinks it’s the anticipation of their next match getting to him, but he also thinks that’s an excuse to help him sleep at night. His air is heavy in his lungs and he breathes out slowly on the way to his seat behind her.

She doesn’t look up when he moves in her vicinity. He catches the slight softening of her expression, a lapse in her facial mask that is gone in the blink of an eye--easily missed, had he not been expressly familiar with her face enough to notice the subtle changes. He smirks to himself as he drags his chair back and flops into it, lifting up his long lanky legs to rest his feet atop the desk without a care in the world.

They’re silent for a long moment, before she breaks it:

“Did you have gym today? You smell.”

“Pretty sure you just learned what it’s like to be self aware--I’ve been inhaling your stink for weeks.”

He hears the sharp intake of an indignant breath, a denial quick on her pursed lips reflexively. He watches her shoulders flex underneath the thin white fabric of her uniform shirt, bending and swaying as her fingers twist angrily into the pleats of her skirt. It’s the clear indicators that he’s getting to her that make it all worth it.

She tries again, trying to tamper down her clear irritation as she works on her newest insult. He responds in like, his blase attitude irritating her even further. She says something cocky that makes him snap and he feels his temper rise.

In his eighteen years of life, Sougo has never had such an emotional reaction to a woman before. It’s not like his sister, where his codependency on her revolves around him fabricating a new personality around her. With the red haired girl it’s like he’s never been more himself.

His stomach twists in knots and tangles with each passing remark made between them. His fingers flex and curl behind his head, his palms starting to sweat due to a weird anxiety he can’t seem to shake. He hides his expressions with ease due to her back being to him but part of him aches to see her face. It’s a hollow, unjustifiable ache that reeks of betrayal and Sougo knows if he admits that to anyone he’ll never live it down.

“You were staring at me earlier.”

Their careful back-and-forth verbal tennis match comes to an abrupt halt when Sougo feels his brain shut off completely. He stalls for a moment, not expecting to be called out for an action he does more often than he’d like to admit. For God’s sake this was breaking the rules--they didn’t talk about awkward teenage moments. They just lived them!

“I was wondering how a baboon learned how to dance,” he shrugs despite her being unable to see it.

She whirls in a blur of reds and whites, her hair spinning as she swivels around in anger and for the briefest moment Sougo catches a whiff of her shampoo and he feels his nose tickle.

He blinks at her when she slams a fist down on a small corner of the desk unoccupied by his feet. Her thin eyebrows are drawn down, creating wrinkles in her forehead and she snarls at him in an entirely unhuman like fashion. Her chest rises and falls in deep swells and retractions when her breath goes from normal to huffing.

“I am not a baboon!” she argues, baring her pearl white teeth at him in a way he thinks is supposed to be intimidating. He’s sure it would work on anyone else. Too bad for her, it’s just him.

“I’ll believe it when I see proof,” he arches a brow at her and his muscles tense when he thinks she’s going to lunge forward and throttle him.

She stops herself but he notes with a selfish pride that he can see the cold fury hidden behind her eyes.

He looks at her face, taking in the round curves of her cheeks and the soft rose blush of her lips. Her eyes were framed with thick lashes that swept across her pale skin when she blinked and Sougo wanted to launch himself off the nearest cliff when he found himself envious of those lashes.

A lock of red hair falls in front of her face when she leans back to brush her hair back with a sigh. She regards him with narrowed eyes and a simple downturn of her lips. She does a sweep of him with her eyes, taking him in thoughtfully and he’s never felt more exposed under someone’s gaze than he does right then. His whole body feels electric.

In one single, fluid motion he slides his feet off the top of his desk and let them fall to the floor and he presses off his chair and leans forward, resting his chin in his palm as he props an elbow on the desk. He smirks at her when she watches him cautiously, her brain doing the mental calculations of what he was capable this close to her. She looks completely unruffled and he revels in it.

He reaches up with his free hand and twists the tail end of the renegade lock of her hair and it’s soft as silk between the pads of his fingers. There’s a charged silence between them, leaving them at a crossroads of where their relationship could go from there. The act he was performing was so uncharacteristically tender, there had to be a catch.

And there was.

He curls the rest of his fingers around the lock of hair and tugs roughly, releasing quickly and leaning back when she shrieks and pitches forward with a closed fist. He laughs until her knuckles connect with his jaw and then he retaliates in a similar childish manner.

The tousle and scream and shriek until Sakata tells them to quiet down and even then they both get in a few extra hits when he’s not looking.

Oh yes, Sougo thinks cheerfully. Detention is my favourite time of day.

#okikagu #okita sougo #kagura #drabble #crows fic #i wrote this at 3am i know its not coherent

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sweetcatmintea · 5 years

Text

A Stranger’s Malice

Hey! It’s Flash Fiction Friday (finished on Saturday because it got late <.<;;) I didn’t see a prompt this week? So it’s time for a stranger and kid update! This had great dialogue until I opened word.. Anyways, I hope you enjoy spending some more time with this weird pair ^u^ Feedback is my life blood appreciated!

Characters: Stranger and Super Ninja Man

Words: 2608

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4

----------

If I’m being honest, having a week between the kid starting school and my being called to the principal’s office surprised me. I’d have put my money on the third day mark. Turning the ignition off, I take a moment to just sit before I leave the car. Although it was inevitable, my guts writhe. They’ll continue until I find out why exactly I’ve been called in. If I’m lucky, it’s a Strongly Worded discussion about calling my kid Ninja Man. (I convinced him to drop the Super for school.) If not, well, at least I won’t be worrying about dinner tonight. I sigh. Might as well get it over with.

The school is decent. Not too fancy, not too lacking. After Grace started helping, things have smoothed out a lot more. It helps that she has the benefit of experience here. I didn’t expect her to be so on board with all of this. I should’ve called her sooner. Although, it was probably my desperation that invoked her sympathy so maybe not. Making my way down the concrete path winding through the school grounds, I ignore the noises from the classrooms, focusing more on finding the main office again. It’s strangely difficult to resist the urge to detour and poke my head into the kid’s class. Nerdlet that he is, he’s probably enjoying himself. Hopefully. Ugh, what’s up with all this sap lately? It’s just school.

You can imagine my surprise when, after finally finding the dingy little building tucked into the back corner of the grounds, I let myself in and there was the kid. Slouched uncomfortably in a hard, plastic chair, avoiding the receptionist’s gaze. Not that she was looking at him, lost in a cheap novel. He notices me but keeps his head down, avoiding my eyes as well. His sneakers scuff at the linoleum – ugly, as was custom for administrative standards – while he fidgets with whatever his worried fingers can find.

“Whatcha doin out of class?” My voice startles the receptionist out of her book. She tries to greet me, but she can wait. Something’s up. The kid continues to look anywhere but at me. He frowns into his hands, picking at his nails. The new stains on his shirt collar twinge my chest uncomfortably. I don’t let it show.

“’m in trouble.”

Well. This is interesting. “Out with it then. What you do?” The receptionist is still trying to get my attention. I wave her off, she can go back to her book. I want to hear it from him first.

He huffs. “Jimmy’s an idiot. He kept picking on me and calling me names to I made him stop.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that. Means squat to me without details.”

He huffs again. There’s no remorse in his scowl, just frustration. His tail twitches as a deep flush crawls over his skin. I doubt it’s me, personally, that’s burning him up, but there is definitely something there. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Take your time. I want to understand.”

He nods and takes a deep breathe. Trying again, he manages to organise his thoughts well enough to voice them. “Jimmy is in the year above me. He keeps calling me lizard breath and skink brain and I told him to stop because I don’t like it, but he just did it more and then he got Luke and stupid Ben-ja-min to do it. They’re in my class. And they’re the Worst. The keep stealing my pencils and telling the teacher I threw them at them! I didn’t though! My aim’s not even that good! And then Ms. Jacobs made me move all the way to the front and switch with Stacy so I was in front of stupid Benjamin but every time she wasn’t looking, he tried to stamp on my tail.”

He pauses to catch his breathe. I wait for him to continue. There’s more there, obviously, and I don’t want to break his flow.

“And then today, I went to eat my lunch and I was looking forward to it because you said there was a surprise for me but they stole it and filled my lunch box with worms. All the girls freaked out even though it was just worms and when I tried to tell the break teacher, he told me to stop upsetting everyone! It wasn’t even me! So I didn’t have any lunch and I went to play with Georgie, they’re cool, I like them, but when we were playing, Jimmy kicked a ball right at my face. He did it on purpose too, even though he told the teacher it was an accident. He looked right at me! So I got really reeaalllyy mad.”

He’s not the only one. The dried blood crusting his upper lip makes me feel a certain kind of way. It’s not pretty. It takes all of my self-control to mask how much my fists are shaking. “What did you do?”

I almost don’t catch his mumbled response. “I threw a beehive at him…”

Don’t laugh. “You threw a beehive at him?”

“Yeah… Then he got chased by bees… And then he ran into the door because the bees were chasing him… He went home early…”

Through some miracle, I stifle my chuckles. I’m giddy with anger, it’s hard to maintain my tone. “Did you get stung?”

“No. I was quick.” He mimes the act, tossing an imaginary hive into the air in front of him.

“Alright. We’ll talk about this properly when we get home. We’ll fix your face up too. Do you feel dizzy at all? No? Good. If you start to feel sick, let me know the instant. It doesn’t matter if you interrupt me. Okay? I’ve got to talk to your principal now. Thank you for telling me what happened.”

The receptionist is all smiles now. Probably my murderous face. Her complacency commits her to the crimes. They should have called my much earlier. Not bothering with an announcement, I barge right into the office.

Principal Hobs has his head buried in his work, pouring over several files on his expensive looking desk. I wonder if he knows it’s a cheap replica. By the way it’s lovingly polished to near perfection, I’d wager no. Apparently, I’m not the only one without manners. He stuffs around, fiddling with more papers, medical reports by the look of it, waving me in with a lazy hand. Like he’s to Busy and Important for the likes of me and my Rowdy, Trouble-Making kid. Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve never been particularly moved by his acts. I drop into the arm chair, more armature than filling of course, slinging my arm over the back and reclining into it. Head tilted and brow cocked, I wait for him to face me. I’m looking forward to the expression.

He finally decides I’m worth his time. “I’m sure Louise has caught you u-” He jolts, cool demeanour melting right to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

I smile. Charming as a shrike. “Hi Ratface. It’s been a while, huh?”

He flounders, fumbling through his notes. The window light catches the shine of his receding hairline. Although we’re older, he’s hardly changed at all. I suppose I haven’t much either, just becoming more proficient in my… hobbies. His eyes dart from his notes to me like ping pong balls. He must’ve missed me. How sweet. Clamping onto a file like it’s a raft, he clears his throat, trying to regain composure. “I, erm, we are both adults now. I’m the principal. You will address me with the respect afforded to an individual of my stature.”

“Sure thing, Ratface. Try to move it along. I’m a very busy person.”

He stutters out a response, sitting straighter in his chair. Like the desk, it’s a cheap replica of a nice model. “Y-yes – I mean, urhum, I called you here to discuss the discipline of your son. He is your son? The Tainted boy?”

He’s acting like the kid suddenly appeared and started school midway through the year. Where does he get these silly ideas from?

“My very own flesh and blood. The product of one of my, many, sordid rendezvous over the years. Why? Want all of the juicy details? Haha that’s right up your alley, isn’t it?”

His face glows red. Huh. It is his thing. Judging by the oh-so-subtle glance at the door, it may just be Louise’s thing as well. He changes the topic quickly.

“Are you aware that John attacked another student today? Poor Jimmy Dorrson suffered several injuries thanks to your offspring. That kind of behaviour will not be tolerated in my school.”

I lean in, resting my elbows on his shiny desk. He leans back despite himself. I catch the malice of my eyes reflected in his glasses. “Now there’s a whole lot to unpack here, isn’t there. Let’s start simple. What in god’s name did you just call him?”

“W-w-well, I- uh- I called him John. I-”

“That’s not his name.”

“You, well, you can’t very well expect me-me to call him “Ninja Man” It’-”

“It’s his name. That’s what the kid wants to be called.”

“But-”

“But nothing. You will refer to him by name. But let’s move on, shall we. Would you like to explain to me why, exactly, you called me in here to talk about Jimmy whats-his-face but conveniently failed to tell me that my kid was hurt?”

“Jimmy was attacked! It took priority!”

“Oh yes, poor, poor Jimmy. He’s lucky he’s not here right now. I have some words for him as well.”

“W-what are you implying here? It was a simple case of boys will be boys.” He flinched at my deepening venom. “I, you know, I never pictured you as the over protective type.”

“I’m not. I’m his parent. Boys will be boys? Don’t give me that garbage. I know my kid. I know what kind of people schools breed. Did you bother asking him what happened? Did you listen when he told you how the gutless trio provoked him? No? Did you even Consider the root of his “disruptive behaviour”? Of course you didn’t. That would be too inconvenient for your busy, busy self. God forbid you Teach these kids anything.”

Hobs is gaping like a dying fish. His mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. He can’t play this off as nothing. Not with me. “You know how it is! You know better than anyone how kids can be. Yours, he’s, he’s different. Bullying was inevitable. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to deal with the situation.”

“But, he’s Tainted!” He growls the words. “I can’t stop what happens. It’s just how things work!”

“What happened to your ‘zero tolerance policy’?” I don’t let him defend himself. “Things are going to change here. Unless you want me to call up some of my friends – you remember Todd, right? Of course you do. You two go way back – and make some things, disappear, as it were – you have taken out life insurance, right? It’d be such a shame if your lovely wife was left high and dry if something were to happen to you – you’re going to make some changes. This school is about to become extremely progressive, isn’t it?”

“What do you…”

“Disappearing not good enough? I can make things appear too. Your wife might deal with you herself if evidence happened to come to light about why you really stay late.”

“You don’t have any proof of that!”

“Oh, but I do. You think I wouldn’t come prepared? That I accidentally enrolled my son in your school? Please. I own the shadows Ratface. You can’t hide in them.”

“Are you threatening me!?” And the last horse crosses the line.

I slam my hands on the desk, leaning over him with an alligator grin. He shrinks back into his cheap chair. “Oh, dear, sweet Ratface. Of course not. I’d never threaten you. I’m making a promise. If my kid ever comes home with so much as a sniffle again, I will make your life miserable in ways you can’t ever imagine. Are you clear?” I think he’s going to pass out. His face is another shade of pale entirely.

“Y-yes. I understand.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I-Implement anti-bullying policy changes.”

“That?”

“Uh,, that are meaningful and not superficial.”

“Good.” I ease off him, leaving him to crumple into himself while I collect the kid and leave. Theatrics are tiring.

---

A comfortable silence builds as we drive home. The kid seems less upset which is good. A bruise is beginning to form across his nose. I’ll have to take care of that. He pokes my arm.

“Do you really know all of Principal Hobs’ secrets?”

I give him a side-eyed look. He pretends he doesn’t notice. Eavesdropper. “No. I don’t. I just made a few lucky guesses. I know the kind of person his is.”

“Hmmm. He seemed real scared of you.”

“Yeah…” I scratch my neck. “I was a little mean to him in school.”

“Were you a bully?”

“Yeah. I guess you could say that. I never touched him personally, but I did point him out to my friends. They liked to torment weaker kids.”

“How come? Did he deserve it?”

How to explain? I’m not exactly proud of what we did but with him, it’s hard to find sympathy. “My friends like to pick on people. I think it made them feel strong. It didn’t matter of they deserved it or not.” He looks more than a little disheartened. “But with your principal, I saw him pulling wings off of flies. He liked to pick on weaker things too. I pointed him out to my friends because of that.”

“Because of the flies? Did you ever tell him that?”

“No. I figured, he didn’t tell the flies why he bullied them so why tell him why he was being picked on?” I sigh. “Really, I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just confronted him about it. No matter the excuse, it’s never okay to hurt people.” I glance at him again. “If you’re ever picked on, tell me. I can’t help unless I know what’s going on.”

“Okay.” He nodded. That was easy. Did he not realise he could talk to me? Hopefully things will change so he won’t have to.

We pull up to the gate but neither moves to get out. I switch the ignition of.

“Am I in trouble?” He looks worried.

“Do you think you should be?”

“Yeah, kinda? I did get Jimmy hurt… But he deserved it. If he left me alone when I asked him to, I wouldn’t have had to do it.”

That was a whole issue in itself. A messy one. “Look, we’re gonna have to have an ice cream talk about Jimmy, but not today. I reckon you’ve had a big enough day as it is. I’m not going to get mad at you for self-defence. The last thing I want to see is you getting hurt. Especially if you’re holding back because of manners or whatever. However, starting tomorrow, we’re digging out a new garden. You’re going to grow native flowers to make it up to the bees. They didn’t ask to get in the middle of your fight, or for you to break their home. I’ll help you, but this will be you taking responsibility for your actions. Does that sound fair?”

“Yeah. I am sorry about that bit.”

“Good. Let’s go in.”

----------

Tag list

@inkovert, @snobbysnekboi, @kainablue, and @i-rove-rock-n-roll

---

Hmm, does the stranger feel out of character here? I’m not sure if their character is loosening up or if I’m going off model..

#original story #short story #flash fiction #Flash Fiction Friday #my story #writblr #A Stranger's collection

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iwritethat · 6 years

Text

UnreQUITed - Part 3

Request: UnreQUITed 3?

A/n: Sorry for the wait! Please say if you want a Part 4 or if you don’t.

Warning: Strong language.

>>>>——————————>

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~

Word had spread, as had Deathstrokes' influence. He was already a feared assassin with his own men if need be but there were very few he actually trusted - you were not one of them but automatically gained a high position despite your unwilling dedication. All of the attention from Gotham's underworld was bound to draw the Bats to you eventually but for now your priority was protecting the ones you cared about.

"So, how does it feel (Y/n)? Being back where you belong little Renegade."

You were leaning against his desk, neck deep in your flooding thoughts when Slade disrupted you, the mocking nickname the very definition of traitor. He meant it as an insult or wind up, you weren't quite sure but you knew you disliked it.

"Don't call me that, and I'm fine. Not that you give a shit anyway." Your words spit like venom, and you hoped it poisoned him like he had you many moons ago.

"You know (Y/n), when you disappeared he got reckless. He seemed angry, lost even. It was amusing, I've never seen your bird so off his game than without his love by his side or at the very least in his life."

"That's bullshit, he didn't love me. You know full well he had a thing for Batgirl." You hissed, glaring daggers at the bemused but skeptical Deathstroke.

"You didn't see how he always watched out for you in a battle? He was the first to defend you and looked at you like the light of his life - and you thought he was into Batgirl - he was but that was after you. Do you really think he'd infiltrate my organisation, alone, to fight only one member in particular. Damn that man tried so hard to win you over but I never thought you'd fall for it."

"C'mon, that's just who he is."

"Alright deny it. Tell me, what's this thing with his 'brother' then?"

"Stay outta my life, we are not friends and I don't look up to you anymore Slade."

Despite storming out of his office with a foul attitude, Deathstroke's words struck a cord in your train of thought. Why would he bring Jason up? You were friends and it had no connection to romantic involvement. The big bad vigilante wound you up something dreadful, it was like he enjoyed pissing you off but in contrast he was there whenever you needed it and when you didn't - like his mind went blank and Jason would nearly always help you after making a mini protest. Almost like you were with... Oh.

Of course, you could be overthinking, Jason would do anything for his friends and you were lucky enough to be classed as one.

————————

It wasn't long until the organisation was infiltrated, you strolled into the main area swinging your sword to rhythm of the blaring alarm siren but fell into a paralytic trance once locking gazed with a witty Nightwing. Internally, you were forever thankful for the armour and mask, it acted as a facade to be someone else - someone who hadn't been in love with him. Slade was the one to pull you back to reality, your head tilted slightly, twin swords drawn at the ready.

"Well? What are you waiting for little Renegade?!" At his unorthodox command, a frustrated groan was sent to Deathstroke before you tackled the interference.

Escrimina sticks consistently clashed with your blades and you found yourselves moving the battle to the rooftops in order to rid Slade of distractions.

"Are you Ravager Junior? Because you didn't seem to like that name he called you earlier."

"Sorry pretty bird, that's none of your business." You responded, knocking him off of his feet again.

"It means traitor right? Did you do something to piss him off because if that's the case I'm surprised you're still alive." Nightwing was forever chatty, you were glad that hadn't changed.

"Oh y'know, I did it for a boy." You laughed bitterly, almost as if it was a joke.

It was a combination of your voice and the way you moved that prompted his memories of your past rival fights to resurface, how you didn't aim for any lethal blows - if anything you were herding him away with no intention of hurting him which was abnormal for a criminal.

As of that point, you noted a change in the way he fought also, his sole focus was on removing your mask and you didn't notice until it was too late. A well placed kick to his chest sent him skidding away from you but when the soft chill breeze brushed your cheeks and strands of (h/c) flew into your face you knew your secret had been ripped from you.

"(Y-y/n)... I knew it, how are you - where were you - shit, I can't believe it’s you. I don't know what to say, I just really freaking missed you!" The moment you dreaded had finally arrived, his voice radiated relief and happiness at the mere sight of you even if you were glaring at him.

Nightwing didn't care, you were back and that's all that mattered to him and it caused your hard expression to falter. However, you remembered who you were and it wasn't his so when he moved to hug you instantly refused - the first time you had ever done so with the tip of your katana resting millimetres from his heart which forced him to stay back.

The action received a quizzical expression, a contrast to the broken one that soon followed but what you were about to say was probably so much worse. A split second lie that you’d hoped would make him leave.

Your eyes were darkening, brow raised in skepticism. "Do I know you?"

You could practically hear the crack of his heart, feel the utter wave of loss that pulsated from his body as every vein filled itself with regret. Did you really mean that much to him? You'd thought it would be better this way, that he believed you couldn't remember even though you did. Maybe he’d hate you? Start fighting you again? It’d be a welcome alternative than acknowledging your own longing waging a war in your system.

"Wha-what? No. No this can't be happening - (Y/n) it's me, Nightwing, Dick Grayson, your best friend... anything? Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, I can't, so do whatever you need to." The ravenette ran a hand through his windswept locks, tone holding a mixture of pain and melancholy, and in the end he just shrugged, offering you one of your katanas that'd been disarmed previously and dropped his escrima sticks to the ground in defeat.

He had to do this, no doubt he was blaming himself for your apparent betrayal and brainwashing but you couldn't kill him despite how easily he’d allow such a thing. Instead, you ended up pinning him to the windy rooftop with a blade to his throat and he didn't even attempt to fight back. It was both pitiful and honourable.

"What was it you wanted me to remember? You love me, I wish you would've told me (Y/n) - heck I wish I would've told you in the first place..." His words made you feel sick, anger burned deep in your heart and you wanted to rip him to shreds after he’d said it. Where was this attitude 6 months ago? Where was it when you needed to hear it?

"Ohhhh no. You don't get to do this to me, not now Dick!" You viciously muttered, looking away from him with furrowed brows haphazardly removing the blade. Your plan miserably backfired.

"Ah so you do remember! You need to stop this (Y/n), come back to me please." The pure sincerity in his voice had your knees trembling, to the point where the weight of your body and your guilty conscience was too heavy to hold and soon you collapsed.

The cold night winds whipped through your hair as you hid your face from view, thanks to your muscles weakness you were straddling your friend and on the verge of tears.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips, a feeling of comforting and gentle warmth spread through your body, originating from the toned arms encircling your waist. One reached up to gentle tug your wrist to be met with soft vibrant blues and a charming smile.

"Hey (Y/n)."

In that brief moment of happiness you returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him to narrow as much distance as possible, your fingers entangling themselves in his mess of strands just as he did to you. The closeness allowed access to his familiar scent of cologne, his calming breathes all the more apparent once Nightwing nuzzled into the nape of your neck with a deep chuckle. All of the confusion and anger dispersed, despite everything your friendship remained and you belonged on his side.

"I'm glad you're back..." Your past best friend told you meanwhile carefully wiping the tears from your face.

"How can you say that?! Dick, have you seen who I'm working with - you're supposed to hate me!" Emphasis was forced on your words, it’s what was expected of him.

"I could never hate you, you are and always will be my best friend. Besides, I won you over once and I know you've got your reasons, I trust you (Y/n)." Intimacy seemed to rise, the way his nose gently brushed yours in a soft manner, the way his words flowed so effortlessly with truth and emotion. It was no surprise when you felt his lips lightly press against yours as if asking permission.

The smallest of touches from him could send your heart racing but this had you on edge, had the butterflies in your stomach dancing with the stars and you wanted more. But you knew better than that, friendship came before self indulgence.

"Mm-no - Barbara. You have Barbara, you can't." Your voice was a soft pained whisper, gazing to down to prevent his lips from meeting your own once again. His breath hitched at your accusation, pulling away and fingertips brushing your cheekbones in hopes of regaining your full attention.

"I can, me and Barbara... we're not, I mean we're um..." He took a deep sigh, contemplating how to deliver the information.

"After you left - things between us changed and it was harder to keep a relationship going because I realised that I relied on you, relied on being with you more than I ever wanted to admit. I spent most of my time looking for you, to bring you back so I could talk to you - I mean you can't just disappear with only a note (Y/n). I missed you and Babs noticed, I think she knew deep down it was more than that but chose not to say anything. We drifted apart, then decided it was best we remain friends so we aren't dating anymore." By the time he’d finished his much needed explanation he could barely look you in the eye, most likely due to regret and the following developments only worsened it for him.

"How long have you two...?"

"3 weeks after you left, so it must've been a few months. We laugh about it now actually."

It was silent for a moment, a period to process the information you'd been given that provided a fill in for what you'd missed whilst you were absent.

"I never meant to hurt you, I'm so sorry Dick." You got to your feet and offered him your hand as you spoke, no longer avoiding eye contact.

"So am I (Y/n)."

You both released short sheepish but content breathy laughs, as if getting to grips with each other again as you stood opposite. His fingers brushed through your stands again almost tenderly, he was nervous with the way he closed the distance between you two. His shaky breath hit your skin and you suddenly became hyper aware of his every movement, practically anticipating what was to come. You smiled slightly, kissing his bottom lip teasingly but you barely had the time to pull away before he connected them again, all hint of nervousness evaporated with your touch. Dick didn't have to hold back anymore, there was no fear of rejection, no Barbara, he wouldn't lose you - all of this was demonstrated and the passion alone soon had you backed up against the wall with your hands lost in his raven hair. He'd jokingly scold you for ruining it, you knew that but with him smiling against your skin and whispering sweet nothings it seemed worth it. It was the only way you could think of to express how you’d truly felt about seeing one another again, being on the same side once again - a kiss seemed more fitting than words could ever describe. The both you were able to enjoy the others presence after sharing the intimate moment, basking in the closeness of one another’s energies and simply being able to communicate without the shadow of awkwardness lingering.

However revitalising as being lost in everything Dick Grayson was, you were blinded by a vibrant flash of ruby skimming your vision.

Aiming.

You didn’t have the time, neither of you did before you heard it.

Bang.

<——————————<<<<

Tagging: @palmtopliion

#dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dc #dc imagine #batfam #UnreQUITed

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