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salt-warrior · 3 years

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WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Eight: Incidents and Accidents

Rain poured outside of the school building, despite the fact that it was snowing back in Colorado. Olympia's weather was much more constant— remaining at a cool, rainy temperature year-round. Kai couldn't imagine living in a place where seeing the sun was an uncommon treasure. He needed sunshine almost as much as he needed air, but maybe that was just because he's grown up in constant sunshine.

The door to the principal's office swung open, and out stepped a large, smiling man resembling the Wolf on his door placard. Kai turned wary; he didn't much fancy going into a principal's office after all the time's he'd spent in his own.

It was always Thorne, coming up with a stupid plan and getting them sent to the principal. Kai tried fruitlessly to convince him to stop, but in the end they would always be back up in front of Principal Konn.

"Kaito Crown?" The man's voice came out as something close to a growl. "I'm Alpha Strom." Kai bit back laughter as the principal extended his hand politely— the things that some hippies did. Kai shook the man's hand, and found that he had a pleasantly business-like firm handshake. It reminded Kai of his father.

"You can just call me Kai," Kai said. "Only my dad ever calls me that; and my old school principal."

A bark of laughter split the air, and the two grinned. "I take it you don't have fond feelings for your late principal, then?"

"No, I got along with him fine. He and my father were childhood friends, and he was like another parent to me." Kai thought back on Torin. He was a kind, wise man. He had been there for Kai every moment after his mother had died. "My friend was a major troublemaker, though, so I always had to go and talk with Principal Konn."

"Ah, I see how it is then." Principal Strom winked, gesturing for Kai to enter his office. "Come in and take a seat. I imagine that for whatever reason you're here, it's important."

"You have no idea," Kai muttered. He had planned what he was going to ask the Principal on his five hour flight to Olympia. He had brainstormed about it as he had tried to sleep in his hotel. He had thought about Selene, and how much she was counting on him— or maybe Kai was just counting on himself for Selene.

Strom walked around his large, beat-up desk to sit in a high-backed chair. The seating arrangement looked uncomfortable on his large frame, even though it would have drowned Kai. The room was plain, barren. The only decoration was a flag with the wolf mascot stamped across and the bold letters of OHS. "What would you like to discuss with me today then, Mr. Crown."

"Selene Linh." Kai sat straight up in his chair, mirroring the man across from him. His father had taught him that presenting your best self was one's greatest asset in getting a business deal; Kai hoped that the same applied to gleaning information from an old High School principal.

"She went here about two years back, before–"

"Before she ran away." Principal Strom rubbed two fingers against the bridge of his nose. "I remember Selene. A brilliant girl with a tragic story."

Kai shivered at Strom's words. He didn't appear to hate the girl judging by his demeanor, but he may have just been good with facial masks. "Yes, you see, Selene recently got into a bad car accident. She lost part of her left leg and has severe nerve damage. I just– I'm trying to find someone who cares for her."

The principal stared at Kai, his dark eyes piercing. He was a kind man, but not one to be messed with either. "You may have a hard time with that," Strom said. "Before she ran away, she was constantly bullied, though she never admitted it— too proud to admit. All sorts of rumors were spread about her, and no one ever knew whether or not they were true."

"Were they about how she killed her sister?" Kai asked, his burning curiosity getting the better of him. There was something mysterious about the young girl's death. Something covered up and suspicious.

Principal Strom's face revealed nothing, but his hitched breath showed that the question was shocking. "Yes, they were about Peony Linh."

Kai sat forward in his seat. "How exactly did Peony Linh die? Do you know?"

"No one knows. No one except for the family— they were under strict orders to keep things related to Selene under the wraps until the final adoption papers were completed." Principal Strom looked grave. "Selene and Peony went somewhere; Selene came back alone. No one talked about Peony after that, except for the rumors that spread about Selene having killed her; most of them spread by Pearl Linh."

"Do you think that Selene killed Peony Linh?" Kai asked urgently.

"Personally?" Strom shook his head. "Selene was a fierce girl. I knew her well. But I do believe that she would never have harmed Peony— at least not intentionally."

"Did Selene have a violent past?" Kai cringed as the words slipped out of his mouth. He felt guilty for digging into Selene's past, but he needed to know what was going on. He needed to know her.

"Technically, I'm not supposed to tell you anything about Selene," Principal Strom looked uncomfortable. "But I am willing to tell you what I do know, as long as it's just between the two of us."

Kai nodded fervently.

"Okay, so I don't know much, except for the basics. Her Social Service worker, Liam Kinney, worked his butt off to help her, but trouble always followed Selene. The family before the Linh's, they had wanted to adopt Selene as well, but then there was an incident. I don't know what happened," Strom put his palms flat against the table, cutting Kai off before he could ask. "Kinney kept things tied up very tightly. I would give you his contact information, but I lost track of him about a year ago."

"Like I said, Selene was a kind girl, but dark things always seemed to follow her. Not many people would be willing to tell you much about her; especially not the Linh's. I can, however give you one person who might give you your best shot." Strom pulled out a piece of paper and began to write something down.

"Who would that be?" Kai asked, feeling despondent. He had hoped for more than 'she has a dark past' and 'I can't give you much information.' He wanted answers.

Strom paused from his writing. "Selene's friend. Well, someone who was once her friend." Strom glanced at his computer, clicking a few tabs and keys before he finished his note.

"Here," Strom said, handing Kai the paper. It had an address, a phone number, and a name written in barely legible writing. "She stayed here local since graduating. She was a star pupil, but and outsider; like Selene."

"Thank you for all of your help," Kai stood, and extended a hand to Strom. They shook, and Strom had a melancholy glint to his dark eyes.

"I do hope you can do something for Selene. I always– I wish that I could have done more for her." Strom patted Kai on the back. "I knew that she was being bullied, and I did nothing. I knew that she was drowning, and never did I throw her a life raft. I hope that perhaps you'll be able to accomplish what I could not."

A burning sensation filled Kai's chest. He simply nodded his head, and walked away before he had to look at more of this guilt in the old man's face.

Selene may have caused a great amount of anger and heartbreak, but she caused just as much guilt and sorrow. She was a burning pathway of destruction and loss. She was a magnet for bad luck, but also for people. She was a forest fire: calamitous and deadly, but impossible to ignore. She was a fallen angel, causing the Heavens to weep at her downfall and Hell scorn the beauteous creature in fear of her being the greatest of them all.

Kai read the note again, launching the coordinates into his phone. He would figure out what happened. He would track down Liam Kinney if he had to. But for now, he would talk to Cress Darnel.

***

"Why?" Selene's words were harsh and bitter. "I thought you were my friend. I trusted you." Betrayal twisted her words into a comfortless whisper.

Cress's big blue eyes widened, and Selene would have felt guilty under different circumstances. "You know that I didn't do it— I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't think–" Selene choked on her words. "We– I– she was my sister. I loved her. You know that."

Selene had cornered Crescent after class, needing to speak to her one last time. She had to know if the betrayal was an act of free will or forced. She wanted nothing more than to believe that Cress didn't mean it. The look in her best friend's eyes, however, was answer enough.

"I thought I did." Cress squeaked. Her eyes were brighter than usual. "But Pearl, she told me the truth. She told me, and now the whole thing makes sense. This wasn't even the first time you've killed someone." Cress looked sick as she said the words. "Ran Kesley–"

"Don't," Selene spat the words like fire. "Don't you dare. That was–"

"An accident?" Cress cut through, her voice rising with nerves and mockery. "You and I both know that an accident like that doesn't just reoccur. You planned it all. You're a freak; a sociopath. Do you even know what love is?"

Selene flinched as if Cress had caused her physical pain. It wasn't the first time she had heard the words, but hearing them come from her best friend made then sting more than they had coming from Adri or Pearl or even Mr. Kesley.

Cress's face softened, but less out of sympathy than horror and sadness. "You tore apart families, Selene. You may not have intended it to happen, but you still caused it. You– you–" Cress covered her eyes with her small, delicate fingers.

"I don't even know why you stay here." Cress murmured, her posture hardening. "No one wants you." Cress hissed. Selene had never heard such unkind words come from the girl. Cress had always been so sweet; now she was ice and a cruel knife in the back.

Bile filmed in Selene's mouth. There were so many things that she wanted to say. Thousands of comebacks, dozens of betrayals; but nothing came.

"Me neither."

#when earth turns to ashes #wetta #a burning world #marissa meyer #tlc #kaider fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #kaider #linh cinder #selene blackburn #prince kai #emperor kai #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #carswell thorne #cress darnel #konn torin #salt warrior stories

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Trust: Jake

CW: References to violence, beating, blood, noncon/dubcon, domestic abuse, child abuse, and all the other gross that goes along with the Box Boy universe

The final installment of this mini-narrative I’ve been working on where Jake and Chris took over my brain. I’m going to take a writing break for a couple of days and hopefully will start posting again on Monday! See my other BBU writings here.

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump

This piece features @deluxewhump‘s Alex, from her Frathouse Box Boy series - highly recommended reading! Alex is used with permission.

His fucking mugshot is all over the place.

Jake only barely remembers that part - it’d been on the second day, maybe, after he’d already been beaten and shocked and awake for nearly twenty-four hours. He has a vague knowledge of standing in front of lights, the sound of a camera, being made to turn. That knowledge comes alongside the memory of a pounding in his head, his knee, of zip-tied wrists dripping blood on the floor while the two men in front of him joked about something on TV the past weekend.

He’d forgotten it as soon as it was over - there were worse things going on in his life than having a photo taken of his black eye and busted-up face - but when he came back to school two weeks later, Jake discovered that just about everyone he spoke to had seen his mugshot on the local news website, with Public Intoxication, Criminal Assault, and Resisting Arrest listed as his charges.

It doesn’t matter that only one of those charges is real. It doesn’t matter that it’s not going to stick, and Nat has already told him that the lawyer who works with the safehouse pro bono is fairly certain they’ll drop the charge since no one can prove Jake resisted anything and the ‘cop’ in question is nowhere to be found.

It doesn’t matter, not any of it, because by the time all of that goes away - by the time he’s healed up enough to go back to class, and Chris has stopped panicking at the idea of him leaving the house, Jake is already known as the guy who got arrested for a drunk barfight after punching a cop.

He doesn’t bother telling anyone what actually happened. He doesn’t care enough about any of these people to try and change their minds about him.

He doesn’t know who he can trust with the knowledge, either. No matter that the guys had given he and Nat two different stories on how they’d been found out, and it’s possible neither one is totally true, Jake is pretty sure it had to be someone on campus.

He goes early on Tuesday, feeling like shit but kind of wanting a break from Chris’s nervous clinging, just… just for a while. He’s done more comforting and caring for Chris than taking care of himself, and it feels good to be back home - and it is home, isn’t it? At some point it became his real home - but he could use the space to just breathe, and feel sorry for himself.

He hasn't spoken to Addie since the night before the raid. Just texted after he got back to let her know an emergency had come up and they'd talk again when he could.

It’s not fair to her, but on the list of things that changed right before he got turned in… meeting Addie is the only big one.

The idea that he got turned in by his fucking girlfriend seems so fucked-up and cliché and weirdly old-fashioned, somehow, that he refuses to think too hard about it. But… if it was her… if she would have sent Chris back to that motherfucker… he has to know.

He’s staring off into space over a cappuccino in the student center coffee shop when movement in front of him catches his eye.

“Um. Hey.”

Jake takes a deep breath at the familiar voice, raising his eyes to see… the frat guy. Alex Something-Something. The one that came and asked him about ways to get a Box Boy to pass because he wanted to take his frat’s human mascot or whatever out in public without people knowing what he was.

The guy looks half-awake, a coffee in one hand and the other resting on the strap of the backpack hanging off one shoulder, wearing a big hooded pullover with his frat’s symbol on the front and blue jeans.

Jake stares up at him, and thinks, you fucking bought one. A bit of anger twists in his chest, but Jake’s too fucking tired to hold onto it. His frat had bought a person, sure, but he couldn’t stay mad at someone who had really been trying to learn. Jake had messages on his phone from some friends who said there was a frat guy kind of nosing around for more info while he was gone, maybe going to join the movement.

It wasn’t fair to judge him by what he’d allowed to happen if he was going to try and do something about it now. What matters is that you leave, he reminds himself, thinking of his mother and Nat and the conversations he’s had, again and again, with people who had to fight between standing still and putting themselves at risk, even in small ways. What matters is that you choose, once or twice or four times or however many times it takes, not to watch it happen again.

He couldn’t hold on to anger when he saw the signs of someone wanting to change. He was too exhausted, carrying too great a weight on his own, and too scared that his one attempt to open up and meet someone had resulted in putting the lives of Antoni and Leila and Chris at risk.

He’d been the one having nightmares, the house turned upside down again and Chris dragged into the middle of the living room, a knee jammed in his back, screaming and screaming for help that Jake couldn’t give because his fucking girlfriend held him down.

If it had been Addie all along, Jake would never date again. He honestly feels like the stupidest asshole on earth for having taken the risk at all. He needs to call her again, he needs to set up a meeting or some kind of dinner date or something. He needs to tell her that he’s scared.

Instead, he’s here way too early on a Tuesday morning, trying to figure out how scared he gets before he’s brave enough to take the risk of letting someone new in.

“Hey,” He says, buying himself a little time to think by taking a sip from his cappuccino, ruining the little heart the barista had drawn into the foam. “You’re on campus early. No house party last night?”

The guy gives him a weird look - like he’s looking for the insult and isn’t sure if he’s found it or not. “Last night was Monday.”

“Since when does that stop a frat house?”

There’s a pause, and the guy quirks kind of a half-sided smile, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. Some of the other guys had a couple people over to play COD, so I guess technically you’re right. Don’t be a dick about it, though, okay?”

“Sorry,” Jake says, and honestly, he kind of means it. This Alex guy’s pretty nice, and the longer he’s thought about it the more Jake is certain that he definitely isn’t the one who turned them in. Even if he’d been kind of complacent in stuff, he just… isn’t that kind of person. Jake can tell, deep in himself, that he’s not. “Sorry. I’m kind of an asshole, I probably should have warned you.”

“You, uh. You did, Jake.”

Jake raises his eyebrows, surprised the frat guy remembered his name at all. “I did?”

“Yeah, like… the first time we ever spoke, man. It was maybe the third thing you even said to me, that you’re an asshole about, uh… the stuff. You know. That we talked about.”

“Oh.” Jake clears his throat. His voice was back to normal - the first week it’d been hoarse, the screaming had turned the inside of his throat into raw meat, barely able to swallow the warm tea that Antoni brewed in massive amounts with plenty of honey. He’d made soup with carrots and ginger and some kind of yogurt and Jake had had to insist Chris not try to feed him like his hands were broken, not just bruised. “Sorry. I’ve had, um. It’s been a weird couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I heard about that.”

Jake’s eyes narrow as the guy sits down in the chair across from him, sipping his coffee, gripping onto the cup nervously. “Did you?”

“Uh. Yeah. The, um… you know, someone I knew showed me… your, uh. We were talking about it in class last week.”

Jake closes his eyes, slowly. Even after two weeks of rest, it’s hard to open them again. “Of course you were.”

“I mean… man, it’s not every week someone who sits three rows down gets arrested for fighting cops.”

“I wasn’t-” Jake cuts himself off, his hands tightening around the cappuccino. “Never mind.”

“Nah, man, I’m teasing you. Look, I was going to hit up the library before, um, before our Ethics class.”

Jake snorts. One possibility - the handler had told him it was the Ethics in Political Philosophy professor who turned them in. Could be him. Could be the landscaping company guy down the street, like they’d told Nat. Could be Addie. Could be the fucking yoga instructor who smiled at Chris and complimented his fucking posture, could be-

He catches his thoughts before they can take off, drag him down into depression again.

“I’m about to go beg for mercy before that class,” Jake says, dryly, and watches Alex smile in response. “Since I missed, what, four classes. And he’s not exactly known for being nice about that shit. Can’t exactly say my grandma died when the whole fucking campus has seen my face all bashed up, huh?”

“Oh. Uh, well. You don’t… actually, that’s why I’m glad I saw you so early.” Alex sets his coffee down - he’s been sipping it steadily - and reaches over to unzip the backpack currently sitting at his feet, digging around inside of it. “I figured I’d catch you before class started, but this is better. Um.”

“Why? You want to help me beg?”

It’s Alex’s turn to snort. “No thanks. I try not to ever look him in the eyes, let alone ask him for anything. No, I wanted to talk to you because… here.” He pulls out a stack of papers more than an inch thick and sets them on the little table between them.

Jake blinks, and looks down. “What is this? Is this the shit I gave you? You’re… giving it back?”

“Fuck, no. No way, man. I… no. I want to keep those. This is, uh, this is two weeks of notes.” Alex pats the top of the paper like a car salesman patting the hood of a car, grinning at him with kind of absurd, sweet pride in his eyes. “I talked my adviser into printing me a list of your classes, found some people I knew in them, and, uh. Here we go. That’s notes for every single one of your classes for the past two weeks, plus copies of the assignments.” Alex pauses, then pats the pile of papers again. “Man, you are taking way too many classes.”

“Yeah, well. I have a lot of shit to do on all the other days, I kind of have to load them…” Jake leans forward, barely able to believe it as he picks up the stack and flips through it. Different handwriting and little encouraging notes in the margins, copied assignment papers. He just… keeps blinking at it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I know. I talked to some people when, you know… when it came out about the, um. Your face.” Alex waves his hand around, as if emphasizing his own absolute lack of injury.

“Who’d you talk to?” Jake is still staring at the notes, feeling and unfamiliar flutter of something like… like real gratitude. He tells himself to say thank you, and for just a second, the words stick in his throat.

It’s been Jake and Nat versus the world for so long, it’s hard to believe the world just expanded to include a whole new person he barely knows.

“Some people. You know. That, uh. Know you. I… I know it wasn’t a barfight, Jake.”

Jake’s fingers grip tightly onto the papers, and he raises his eyes to meet Alex’s sincere expression of real concern. “You do?”

“Yeah. I, uh. I had no idea shit like that even happens now… we never heard anything on the news-”

“Yeah, and you won’t.” Jake thinks of the Governor standing in the corner, hidden behind glass and shadows, laughing as they hit Chris across the hands to stop him from tapping, hit him again and again and again, the awful soundtrack of his cries layered over the top of that fucking pervert’s laughter. He’s going to fucking kill that man one day.

“Uh, Alex, I just-... you didn’t have to do this, man, that’s… really cool of you. Thanks.” He has to force out the word, but he wants to, he wants to say it. He never expected this.

He’s spent so much of his life insisting he doesn’t need charity, he doesn’t need help, and his mom will get on just fine, thanks. No, those bruises aren’t because of things at home. No, he doesn’t need to talk to the guidance counselor, no, no, no no no-... but here it’s just been done, the mercy, the kindness. None of that bullshit how are you? with the overly exaggerated concern and sadness. Alex just… helped. It throws Jake off-kilter, the same way learning how every single neighbor they had had come together to care for Chris while they were gone throws him off-kilter. “How’d you get everyone to take notes?”

Alex shrugs, drinking his coffee again, supremely pleased with himself. “I just asked, Jake. You can get a lot of stuff just by being nice to people, you know.”

What if we had told the neighbors what we were before the raid? Would they have helped us?

“I wouldn’t know. You just… asked? God, no wonder you’re Poli Sci. You’re gonna make a hell of a politician one day.”

Alex’s smile, if anything, widens. “Yeah, I hope so. Maybe I can do something about this shit, then.” At Jake’s surprised expression, he rolls his eyes. “I read your stuff, Jake. I read every single page. I’m kind of in it, now, sort of. It’s hard to know it and not, uh, think about it. So, can I ask-... your cousin, the one that you brought to class for a while-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes a chance. He takes a risk. He goes stepping voluntarily off a cliff, maybe taking Chris along with him. Somehow, though, he can’t stop himself. He’s tired of feeling alone when he’s here. He’s kind of just tired of feeling alone. “He’s a rescue.”

“Is he a… you know.” Alex’s face darkens, and he clears his throat, looking almost ashamed of himself just for saying the words. “A, uh. Where they… refurbish them? I wish I knew a better word for it.”

“There aren’t any better words for when they pull that shit on people. And… No. He’s not.”

“Oh, okay. Um. What, uh, what kind was he-... I was reading about the different, uh, kinds-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Alex nods, slowly, looks down at his coffee, looks back up. “Sorry. How old is he?”

Jake’s jaw tightens - not at Alex, but at the memory of the boy in the video, shaking and terrified, whimpering I’m eighteen to a room full of adults who all knew he wasn’t. “I don’t know.”

“He looks really young.”

“He is. I don’t know how young. Alex, if you… if you tell someone about this shit, about him, they’ll take him away and send him right back. You get it?”

“Yeah. I get it. Except… d’you mind if I tell, uh, my, um… our… my friend? That I talked to you about before? If it comes up that getting, uh, rescued is a, uh, a thing? That, that maybe… I don’t know, maybe he could… go home with somebody. Have a home, like that kid has with you.”

“The kid’s name is Chris,” Jake says, quietly. “He picked his name himself. There’s a couple more where we live. When they’re ready, they move out, and they start new lives. Chris, it’ll take him a while.” If ever. “Look, I, um, this was… was amazing, what you did, getting all those notes put together. I don’t know how to thank you for it, really, saying ‘thanks’ just feels like it doesn’t really cut it, you know?”

Alex nods, finishing his coffee up and setting the empty cup down on the table, decisively. “It’s no problem, man. I get it. I’m just, uh. I’m just glad everything worked out.”

Did it? Is that what happened?

“Me, too,” Jake says, aware of how heavy his voice sounds, how false the sentiment. “Look, I, uh, I can’t bring Chris on campus anymore. There’s a possibility we were… found out… because of that.” His voice catches in his throat, but Jake pushes down the guilt. He has time for that later. “So… you won’t see him anymore.”

Alex is silent, for a long moment. Then he says, almost hesitantly, “What about meetings?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What if I… go to meetings? Do the, um. The… you called them ‘rescues’? Do they go to meetings? If I go to them, if I start, uh, going to them… would I see any? Be able to talk to them? Or…”

“Yeah. Rescues go, sometimes. They give talks about their lives, and everything. Antoni - sorry, I have a, uh, there’s one I live with right now named Antoni - he’s given talks on his life as a Domestic before. I don’t know about Chris, though, he, um... Chris struggles with-”

Chris would go into dark corners with anyone who smiled and touched his face and I don’t always trust the very people who are risking themselves to help us. Not with him. Not when he’s so easy to hurt, and easier to convince that you didn’t.

“That’s okay,” Alex says quickly. “It was just. He seems like a cool kid, I saw you guys over at the yoga class a couple times.”

Finally, Jake’s smile is genuine and real. He thinks of the mussed-up strawberry blond hair spread across the pillow when he woke up this morning, Chris mumbling to himself and shifting into the warm spot Jake’s body had made when he got out of bed. One arm flinging out to search for human contact. How young and soft and sweet he looked, in that moment, like a kid ignoring his alarm clock.

He should be in high school right now.

“He is,” Jake says, gathering up the papers from Alex, finishing his cooled cappuccino in a few quick drinks, setting it back down empty. He sticks the papers in his own bag. “He’s fucking amazing, Alex. He’s been through so much-... they’re all… they’re all fucking amazing. Do you get that? They’ve survived so much bullshit and they come out the other side and they still want to figure it out and get better. They’re amazing.”

“Yeah,” Alex says, softly. There’s a weird look on his face, one Jake can’t quite read. “Yeah, you know… they are.”

“You want to meet Chris sometime,” Jake says, pushing his chair back and standing up, pulling his backpack on over his shoulders. “You let me know. I think… I think I’d let him talk to you. Just… don’t hug him too much.”

“Does he not like that?” Alex looks up at him without standing up yet. “Ours, um, my-... the guy that lives with us… he really likes being touched. And it seems like, when Chris was coming with you…”

“No, he likes it. But he wouldn’t-... he can’t tell what kind of affection is safe, yet.” It’s as close as Jake’s going to get to explaining what Chris has been through, at least here and now. He catches someone pointing at him out of the corner of his eye and sighs.

“No, ours. Uh. Ours can’t either, exactly.” Anger flashes on Alex’s face, distant and thoughtful, and then he just shrugs. “Look, just. I hope those papers help you, man. From what Meghan said, your place was basically trash from top to bottom. I guess she talked to some people who talked to your, uh, your boss or whatever.”

Jake and Nat still haven’t talked, not really. Two weeks later and they’re still drifting past each other, tense and uncertain, each waiting for the other to be the first to bring it up. He feels his shoulder hunch slightly at the mention of her. “Yeah. It was. They left-... You know what, I don’t, um. I don’t want to talk about it. Yeah? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, man, that’s fine. Not a problem. But… if you need help again, will you, uh. Text me or something?” Alex takes a deep breath, meets Jake’s eyes, his jaw set and the open, friendly face set in an expression of stubborn determination. “I want… I want to help you.”

Alex, Jake realizes, is also walking off a cliff, hoping there’s something other than rocks at the bottom. He’s also taking a risk. He’s got his own future, and he probably never saw it including this.

“What are you, um, able to do?” Jake asks, and there’s more to his words than just the surface. A depth he knows Alex can hear. What are you willing to do?

Alex shrugs, standing up finally, giving him that bright handsome smile, politician-to-be through and through. Jake almost wants to shake his hand and the guy’s younger than he is. “Don’t know yet. But, hey, sometimes all you have to do is ask, right? Sometimes it’s just about, like, trusting people not to be utter shits for five seconds.” He moves past Jake, walking away, and calls over his shoulders, “Next time, Jake, trust me, okay? If you need help, just ask.”

He leaves, sliding out through the set of double-doors that leads in from outside, and Jake just stands there, watching him go.

Just ask.

Easy for him to say.

Harder, so much harder, for Jake to do.

He picks up his phone, staring after Alex’s backpack until it disappears into the morning, until he turns a corner down the walkway, behind a stand of trees, and is gone.

Jake hasn’t trusted anyone who isn’t a rescue since he was a little kid. No one has ever been someone he could rely on. It’s never, not once in his life, been safe to trust the people who told him to trust them. Right from the start, the people who were supposed to give him a solid foundation had been the quicksand dragging him down.

Jake dials a number and holds his phone up to his ear. After a second, Addie’s warm voice picks up, blurry with sleep. “Jake? Hey, I haven’t… you haven’t called me in a couple of weeks, are you-... what’s up? Did you get your emergency thing sorted?”

Jake swallows, hard. “Can I… can I meet you for lunch during my long break today? I have something to ask you.”

Was it you?

“Yeah… yeah, sure. I missed you, Jake.”

If it wasn’t, can I trust you to know?

“I missed you, too, Addie. A lot happened, and I just-”

“Yeah, I saw the mugshot, it’s all over campus… are you okay?”

Can I trust you to protect the rescues?

“I’m fine. Now. But, uh. There’s kind of more to it than that… I’ll tell you at lunch. Vegetarian wraps at 1:30, that sound okay? I’m buying.”

There’s a pause, and a smile in Addie’s voice. “Of course it’s okay. I can’t wait to see you.”

Can I trust you to protect Chris?

Jake hangs up, heading out himself, to look over the notes before his first class starts. Alex’s words ringing in his ears, a weight against his back. He’s never going to forgive himself for letting a fucking frat guy be more self-aware than he is.

If you need help, just ask.

Trust people.

Ask.

#whump #trauma recovery #recovering whumpee #angry caretaker #defiant caretaker #defiant whumpee #tw: police brutality (mentioned)#references to child abuse #references to domestic abuse #referenced noncon/dubcon #referenced #conditioning #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #jake the shelter guy #featuring deluxewhump's alex

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

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I. What's in a name (that which we call a Bucky)

Summary: What kind of name is BUCKY? Your dog's name is BUCKEYE. Much better. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: A more humorous work... be alert: everyone in this fic is a lil shit. Dog-lover reader. Enemies to friends to lovers and strap in kiddos, we’re going to Ohio!

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s past midnight when the bell on your doorknob titters. A high-pitched whine follows the noise and you drop the book in your hand before emitting a loud groan of annoyance. As a response to your complaint, footsteps quickly pad back towards the computer room you sit in.

“God damn it,” you scold towards the door, “I just took you out like an hour ago.”

It’s half-serious, half-playful as you point a finger towards the 50-pound mass of pure muscle now pitifully cocking his head to the side. Your dog, Buckeye, lovingly named after your alma-mater’s mascot whines pathetically as he falls forward onto his two front paws and gives you the saddest look he can muster. The slate-grey skin between his eyes bends upwards in crinkly folds as he continues to peer at your perched figure on the swivel chair.

You shuffle your desk space around, placing the heavy tome from your hand over the mountain of other paperbacks scattered about. Taking one final look over the paper you’d been working on for the last two weeks, you hit save, making sure it uploads itself to the online drive before stepping away.

The clock on the lower right-hand corner of your monitor reads 2:30. Fuck. Way more than past midnight. You had been so focused on writing you didn’t even realize how late it was. Sending an apologetic look to your dog, you rub his ear before heading down the hallway and grabbing the leash by the door. Poor guy, you hadn’t taken him out in almost four hours.

He’s striding towards you, tail wagging back and forth at the sight of your hand on the leash. His tongue flops out stupidly and you giggle at how dumb he looks. Before clipping the leash to his collar, you give him a big kiss on the head and push your face affectionately. He’d come such a long way in the past five months.

“Okay, big baby. Let’s go.”

The training bell hanging from the knob flails against the door as you step outside, closing it shut.

You and Buckeye head downstairs, your slippers squishing against the wet grass as he leads you over to his favorite sniffing grounds. Under the lamp, you scroll on your phone distractedly, making sure you’d replied to all the e-mails you had received earlier in the day. Eyeing him from time to time to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to, you tap out a quick response to a group message from some classmates. They’re probably awake at this time anyway, you muse bitterly, graduate school can be a real bitch like that. Tucking the phone into your back pocket, you fiddle a doggy bag from its container strapped to the leash and maneuver it over your hand.

“No sniffing that poo.” You command Buckeye, and he gazes back over his shoulder at you for a single brief second, as if truly contemplating your authority before giving it a quick whiff anyway. You scoff before tugging him from the pile and further back into the grass. “C’mon, Buck. Dude, I gotta get back in. Please poop. The bag’s ready for you.”

You wave it around helplessly as he traipses on, keeping close, but really pushing your patience. Ten minutes later, you decide you’ve had it with him and start tugging him back towards the sidewalk. He resists at first and you have to use your “mom” voice a couple of times before he follows your lead and drags himself back to your side.

This was the usual routine of your life: wake up, go to campus, work on campus, work from home, find time to eat, work some more, go to bed. In-between all of those activities was of course, take Buckeye outside to jog, pee, shit, and socialize… when he was up for it.

You “adopted” the big lug from the shelter six months ago, falling head over heels for that stupid white oblong patch (you called it his Penis Patch because c’mon… it looked like one) and that wrinkly-ass forehead of his. He had been abused as a puppy and then abandoned in an alleyway with a handful of other pit bulls. By the time he got to the animal shelter, he was massively underweight and terrified of being near humans. He was only two months old. It took a lot of work on your end to get him back to a normal weight and as much as people loved to praise how you “saved” him- it was honestly the opposite that happened.

Yes. It was cheesy and gross as fuck to admit out loud, but that dumb animal actually saved you.

If you hadn’t adopted him and decided he was going to be your tether to this fuck-ass world, you were cock-sure you’d have tied yourself a noose out of bedsheets already. It’s what you told your therapist because it was just the damn truth.

The spring air of Manhattan whips over your face as you make your way towards the stairs of your unit, taking glances here and there to make sure nothing scary was happening. Your location was relatively safe, but honestly, you never know with people. You had seen your fair share of frightening and inexplicable things from your time in New York.

As if you were summoning the bad luck to your doorstep, gunshots ring out from a few blocks away. At least you hope it is, because the echo throughout your apartment unit suggests that it’s much closer. Buckeye starts twitching, darting left and right at the sound. You’re steeling your body as he begins to pull and snap at him with your fingers, calling his name. He heads quickly towards the apartment. Another shot resonates between the buildings.

On your right, Buckeye lets out a high-pitched yelp and jumps as rapid footsteps approach behind you. You barely make it two steps out of the way before a heavy body barrels into you and knocks you onto the sidewalk. Both your knees hit the concrete hard and you immediately roll to your side and fumble to find the leash that fell from hand. Your dog is losing it, and frankly, you are about to as well.

He starts to take off towards the darkness of the grass and you’re screaming his name, trying to scramble up to catch the plastic handle of the retractable leash that’s dragging against the ground. His tongue is loose and panting as he whips his head back and forth between you and the darkness, unsure of where to go.

“Come here! Come!”

You ignore the searing in your kneecaps and reach out as you take a step. Before you can make it much farther, an arm swings itself over your neck and strangles the rest of your words.

A single shot fires off at your dog. Buckeye is outta there. He’s yelping the whole way and you cannot stop yourself from shrieking.

“Don’t fucking speak.” A voice growls behind you. The body it belongs to is distinctly masculine as they knee you in the back and prop you up to stand beside them. The cold barrel of a gun presses itself against your temple and you freeze, hands quivering at your sides. Your heart has either imploded or is about to because you can’t tell if it’s beating or not anymore. There is ringing in your ears from the gun being fired in such close quarters, your eyes struggle to focus.

You have so many questions, but your mind is currently a squirrel in traffic running between the front axle of two tires labelled: “Is this where I fucking die?” and “Is my dog okay?”. Getting splattered to bits by either one was dealer’s choice, and your dealer didn’t seem too choosy.

In the distance, footsteps approach and you see two large frames enter your blurry field of vision, lit up under the streetlamp. There are two glimmering silver shapes reflecting that flickering light, one in the shape of a … dinner plate? And the other… another dick. What the hell? Oh god, you think automatically about your dick-spot-shaped dog. Where is he?

“Let her go!” the dinner plate yells. The barrel presses further into your head.

“Drop your weapons!” your assailant calls back, “Or she dies!”

You’re in a bad procedural cop show or something, you swear. Or Ashton Kutcher is 50 years old and he is laughing his ass off in a van right now, filming a new season of Punk’d. You squeeze your eyes shut when the gun clicks against your head, which is generally right after it goes off, according to the movies. There’s a warm sensation against your back and you hope to god that it isn’t you pissing yourself. When you smell the coppery scent rising, you realize it’s the man’s blood. When he sways a little and your body droops with him, you are positive it’s his blood.

The funny silver California/dick shape in the distance moves and becomes a small circle, with a dark spot in the middle. Is that a fucking gun? You blink a couple of times to see the shadowy outlines of the two people stepping closer. There’s aggravated whispering from both of them and your attacker begins to yell about something before a deafening blast cracks past your eyes.

Warm blood sprays on your face when the man falls backwards, heavy limb taking you down with him. You get some of it in your mouth and you scramble to fuck off as far as you can from this now dead body. The two shapes are running towards you, one of them gripping you hard by the arm and pulling you up.

“Buckeye! That is not protocol!”

You dizzily shake your head at the sound of your dog’s name and find your balance on the sidewalk, toes pressing against your slipper to have it back on your foot correctly. In front of you were two enormous men, and you recognize them immediately: Captain America and Winter Soldier.

“You know I don’t miss.” The Soldier retorts, bottom half of his face obscured by his signature black latex mask. It muffles his voice, but you can clearly hear the agitation. Captain America looks over your dripping red knees. “You okay, ma’am?”

You ignore him. As far as you are concerned at this point, they’re both just as dead to you as this other fucker on the ground. You want to find your dog.

“Buck?” You call into the patch of darkness as you carefully tread into the grass, wincing when your knees sting with every step. You don’t see the two Avengers looking at each other in confusion.

“BUCK!” You scream again, panic returning to your chest as you think about your dog scurrying around in the dark, dragging his damn leash, and spiraling back into the hot mess he was six months ago. Damn it, it had taken you so long to train him out of being skittish, and now he was going to be right back in it. You look around the dark, turning the flashlight on your phone and follow what looks like to be a trail of blood. It’s not yours, so you correctly deduce it’s Buckeye.

You start to hyperventilate, shaking with every step.

“Oh, Buck, you piece of shit you, I swear to god, if you’re dead, I’m going to kill you.”

“…Ma’am?”

You whip around and glare at Captain America, “What!” He takes a step back, hands coming up as if to deflect your outcry. His partner next to him places his gun back in the holster at his hip with a quiet click, eyeing you suspiciously. Captain America looks around, like he’s surprised you’ve yelled, because he probably doesn’t get yelled at very often by people he saves.

“…Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Th’ broad’s mental.” The Soldier scoffs, heading back towards the limp body on the ground. He digs his hands into every pocket of the corpse, even opening the mouth to peer inside. “We need to move this body.” He pulls out a tiny USB from a sewn-on pocket inside the vest and puts it in a pouch on his belt.

“I’m looking for my damn dog.” You hurl, “I’m looking for my fucked-up rescue dog, who was doing very well and on his way to being a proper good boy, before you fucks came along and shot him!”

You hear yourself being more and more hysterical with every syllable. Your pitch is increasing with your heart rate, and the part of you that fears retribution from super soldiers is raising its hand up to be called on by your dominant lizard-brain. Your lizard-brain is soaked in fear and refuses the hand.

“That guy shot your dog.” The Soldier nudges the body with a steel-toed boot.

“You scared him! He’s afraid of loud noises and you were shooting up the place, you trigger-happy motherfucker,” you point a finger to the offending Avenger, “You could have shot me, you bag of limp dicks.”

Winter Soldier lets your insults slide; you’re definitely off your meds, he thinks. “Like I said, I don’t miss.”

Captain America finally snaps his shield back onto his back and runs a hand through his hair. You’re half surprised he’s not wearing that dorky-ass helmet he’s usually sporting but turn around regardless and start walking faster, ignoring the muddier ground the further you go in. From the position next to the soon-to-be chalk outline, the two Avengers argue quietly before one of them groans and they both fall silent. You figure they’ve kissed and made up.

Grass is shuffling behind you as Captain America effortlessly catches up to your uneven steps.

“I can track your dog. Let me help.”

You say nothing because you’re so preoccupied with being pissed off that this happened in the first place and because you honestly couldn’t refuse the help regardless of how overinflated your pride was. You couldn’t see for shit in the dark and you’d rather have Buckeye back than any amount of satisfaction flinging insults could bring. Stepping back, you let Brown-Beard take the lead and follow him through the mud and into the back of a unit now five buildings away.

When you slip on a particularly wet patch, he’s quick to grab your elbow and support you. He also takes it as an opening to make conversation.

“What’s type of dog is…”

“Buckeye.” You say, pulling your elbow away and falling back into step. He turns around and raises a single eyebrow.

“Buck…eye?” The second syllable is dropped low- as if he’s unsure that it’s the right thing to say.

“….Yes. Buckeye.” You hiss back.

“Buck…eye.” He repeats again, moving the sounds around in his mouth carefully. You pull a face but say nothing. Boy they sure like to make ‘em big and dumb, don’t they?

“He’s a pit bull. He’s gray with a white patch on his chest. He’s not fucking lethal or anything- like people think he’s just… damaged. He’s not even full-grown; just an oversized ball of anxiety and post-traumatic stress.” Your voice becomes distressed the more you talk about your good boy, and you decide to shut up before you can burst into tears.

“We’ll find him, promise.” Captain tries to send you a smile, but it gets misplaced in the thick of his beard and you’re not even looking anyway, pretending to follow the trail so he doesn’t see your eyes well up. You’re thankful for his help. But fuck him still; he scared your dog.

“There’s no more blood, which is good,” He says, “Steps are getting closer together, so he’s not running anymore. There’s a funny… thing- though. What’s he dragging?”

“His leash.” You mutter.

“Ah.” There’s a pause, “You know, that’s actually a good thing- it’ll slow him down.”

It’s at least another twenty minutes of walking in silence as you follow Captain Star Spangled Banner out of your apartment complex and down three completely decrepit alleyways, at least one littered with broken glass. Upon entering the fourth one, you swear you hear clattering in the back and pick up your speed, calling out.

“Buck? Buckeye? Is that you?” Your voice is quivering in the dark. Your companion has stilled beside you, not letting his footsteps drown out your voice. “Buckeye, come here.” You’re as careful as can be as you quietly step forward, a tiny bit closer to the slow shadow in the corner.

When a car drives by on the main road, the shine of headlights reflects two glowing blue pearls that you’d recognize anywhere. His tail is wagging happily against the pavement of the alleyway, and it breaks your heart to see he’s battered in blood.

You put both your arms around him to settle him from possibly scurrying away at the sight of Captain’s figure, who hangs in the back, but is still so large that it disturbs Buckeye. “My big guy,” You sob into his stupid, dirty neck, “You’re all muddy... Oh Buck, you big idiot… you dummy.”

You find the handle on the leash again, but Buckeye is tentative to follow, stumbling when he stands up on all four feet. When you lean over to examine him, he’s all cut up on his paws and you see it now, the big streak of open flesh on his upper thigh that’s crusted over into a brown stripe. The shiny fur that’s beneath it is matted with more dried blood and it’s so large that you break out into tears all over again. You don’t think he’s able to walk anymore, which might have worked out in your favor; it did stop him from running.

Captain slowly makes his way toward the two of you and reach both hands out, kneeling and laying one gently underneath Buckeye’s snout to scratch him. Your dog inspects the hand nervously before giving it a quick lick. He pants happily at the scratch to his chin and you can’t help but snort at his simplicity. Captain offers to pick him up for you and you let him, surprised that Buck’s letting someone other than you be so close. You’re glad for it, though, since you would not have been able to pick him up out of the alleyway on your own.

“I’ve been compared to a Golden Retriever before,” Captain says amiably as he easily holds Buckeye in his arms, leading you out of the dark path. He’s got a glint in his eye like he’s real proud of himself for that quip. “I definitely think of myself as a dog person.”

You scoff and save your retort for another time, pointing him in the direction of your local pet emergency hospital instead.

It must have been a sight for them, Steve ponders as he sits in the waiting chair of the hospital, giving away smiles at the receptionists and nurses who occasionally gather to stare at him. When the automatic doors slid open, they probably weren’t expecting Captain America in full tactical gear to walk in with a dog in his arms. Not to mention the young woman who followed, looking in not much better shape than the dog.

He glances over to you as you lean back in the plastic chair resembling more of a bucket than anything comfortable. Both your knees are completely skinned raw and the trail of blood reached your feet, caked in mud. The woman at the front desk offered you some bandages and antiseptic, which you’d haphazardly sloshed all over yourself before resigning to let it be. Your eyes have slipped closed as you wait for the nurse to come talk to you about your dog; it is late, after all—nearly four in the morning, and Steve lets you rest when he hears your breathing slow.

He begins to check his phone, punching in a text to Bucky with updates, barely able to hold back the giddy energy inside of him. Bucky was going to flip when Steve cracks open the can of worms that is the dog’s name. And it’s going to completely boil his noodle when he hears that your description of your dog almost perfectly matched Steve’s own description of Bucky. He swears right now, under these old fluorescent lights and with God’s blessing that he would never, ever, let Bucky live this down.

“You… use…a … flip… phone?” Your disbelieving voice is so quiet that Steve thinks a ghost is making fun of him.

“Well, it does flip, and it is a phone.” He retorts, face completely blank for a couple of seconds before breaking out into a smirk.

Your sit up in the chair, looking over to Steve incredulously. “Who are you, my dad?” Your features twist into a disgusted sneer, but he catches the amusement in your eyes.

He chuckles in response. It’s not the first time Steve’s been told that his jokes were corny, at this point in his life, he’s decided to just go with it.

“Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe more Avenging in another quiet neighborhood?” The snark comes out sharper than you intend it, but between the two hours of sleep last night and probable zero hours of sleep you’ll get tonight, you’re on autopilot.

“It’s being taken care of.” He stares straight ahead. Your comment implies that you’d rather him leave, but he feels in part responsible and obligated to stay. Besides, you’ll need a ride home and someone to carry your pet to the door. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

“He’s not fucking dead,” You huff, “If he was, you and Bicentennial Man would be fucked. You won’t believe how many knives I can carry in my mouth alone.”

Steve almost gives himself whiplash as he does a double-take on your completely placid and unfazed profile view. He thinks it’s better not to ask about the capacity of knives your mouth can hold or about how you know that very specific fact about yourself. However, he can’t help from letting out a wheeze of a laugh because the feral image frankly reminds him more and more of Bucky; Steve has definitely seen Bucky with a knife in his mouth.

Another fifteen minutes pass of drifting in and out of sleep before the nurse peeks her head out and calls you into the treatment room. She stares open-mouthed when Steve followed dutifully behind and closes the door with a quiet click.

Buckeye is lying in a lethargic daze on the table with a plastic cone around his neck. The large gash on his leg has been stitched and carefully covered by gauze and his paws are bandaged up as well. At the sight of the two of you, his tail begins to pat slowly against the smooth surface of the table in quick taps before trailing off and starting back up again. He is looking into your eyes, but Steve can see his gaze wander around the room in a medicated stupor from time to time.

His stomach tightens when you begin to sniffle and draw lazy circles on Buckeye’s head with your thumb. The nurse runs over the health diagnostic for your pup and all seems pretty well, considering the doleful state he’s in.

“He might not eat for the first day, but you’ll have to try to make him...” The nurse hands you a large zip-loc full of bandages, ointments, pills, and paper. “Keep the cone on for at least two weeks and stick to the dosage schedule… Do you have any questions?”

You shake your head, rifling through the various items in the bag before zipping it back up.

“Okay. Well, he’s doing really good, and I think he’ll make a speedy recovery soon.” The nurse offers you a smile and you reply kindly, thanking her for everything before sighing at Buckeye. Steve steps forward in the silent moment and scoops your dog’s tired body into his arms before thanking the nurse as well. She goes white as a sheet when you open the door to let him out. Steve hopes there won’t be any tweets later about Captain America saving puppies.

At the front desk, Steve watches you shuffle side to side when the receptionist rings up each cost. Dressed in an oversized Ohio shirt and pajama shorts, it’s obvious you are not prepared for this. You were probably just a college student, and since he didn’t see you make any phone calls to your parents or family members who might foot the bill, he assumes you’re on your own. Before the receptionist can hand you anything, Steve shifts and tilts his right leg forward.

“Can you reach into this pocket?” He asks, startling everyone in the vicinity: you, the receptionist, and your dog. You stare at him dumbly for a minute, grimacing at the leg pointed in your direction and the back-and-forth Captain America’s eyes keep sending you. It goes from your face to his pocket and every time it returns to your face your frown drops more.

“What?”

“For my wallet.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon… I don’t think you have any other options,” the sentence hangs on a truth you don’t need spoken. You pale and begrudgingly reach for the snap closure on his thigh, widening grimace now making your face look like a melted Dali painting. The receptionists’ eyebrows go higher and higher the closer your shaking hand gets. Captain America bounces his leg to shake the leather case loose as your hand digs inside and gets stuck between fabric and muscle. Buckeye grumbles in his arms at the jostling and his holder whispers a quiet apology before nuzzling him with his nose.

He doesn’t notice you staring. The receptionist does.

When the wallet is finally pried free (why are his pants so tight, anyway? This bitch is dummy thicc, too, you think) he motions for you to pull out a black card with a surprising bit of heft to it. You nervously hand it over and avoid eye contact with him as the transaction finishes, stuffing the damn thing back in and snapping it shut in one swift motion. You can feel your face stuck in a rigid expression of bewilderment the entire time.

“I-- uh... thanks... for that.”

He motions you with his head to go outside and when you follow him through the automatic doors, a black car is parked in front. The Winter Soldier is in the driver seat and reaches over to open the door. He’s taken his mask off and looks over at the Captain with your dog in his arms. He’s all stubbly and homeless-looking, you think, the complete opposite of Golden Boy Rogers in front of you.

An exhausted look passes over his dark features as he glances from Captain to Buckeye to your fucked-up knees. “...Just... get in.”

The ride is silent save for the sound of Buckeye’s soft whimpers in the fit of a nightmare. You hush him with soft pets and coo his name in his ears. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m here, Bucky.”

The Soldier snaps his gaze up to you from the rearview mirror. Captain America smirks. You catch neither of their expressions, transfixed on your dog who resembles Frankenweenie more than himself. Stupid fucking bad guy. Stupid Avengers.

“What did you just say?” Winter Soldier slowly asks, and you glare at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?” You snap back. What the fuck was his problem? “Mind your fucking business, I’m talking to my goddamn dog.” Buckeye whimpers again and you pat him lightly to soothe his crying. Captain America begins to chuckle quietly from the passenger seat the longer Winter Soldier stares at you. “Eyes on the fucking road.” You hiss when you catch his glare.

He’s probably going to shoot your ass, you think. Your dog begins to whimper again, a broken string of yowling erupting from him before he stills. The taped gauze on his side has started to turn a slight pink. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” You sigh.

“Jesus, what the fuck are you saying?” Winter Soldier nearly shrieks as he pulls sharply into a parking space in front of your building. His volume startles your dog and he shoots up with a loud whine, hitting the plastic cone on the back of the driver’s side. You quickly place both hands on his back to settle him down. “Buckeye, it’s okay.”

Captain America is in a full-on giggle fit now, having to hold his sides to stop himself from seizing. He briefly pauses to apologize and puts a hand on your dog’s head, quieting him with a lazy pet.

“It’s her dog, Buck!” “Yeah I know it’s my dog, Buck.” You snarl, confused as to why this is even a topic of discussion.

Red, white, and shit-for-brains starts up again with the laughing. “Th-the dog’s name--” He wheezes. “Is Buckeye.” There’s a flash of recognition that sweeps over the driver’s reflection in the rearview before it turns into one of annoyance. Then it turns into disdain.

“What kind of a fucking name is that?” He spits before smacking his hand into Captain America’s chest.

“Hey! Shut the hell up! That’s my alma mater you uneducated dickbag!” You point to your red Ohio State shirt with the big “O” right in the middle. It’s so worn and old that the red has faded, and the white print of the O is all cracked, but anyone with two braincells knows exactly what that means. You start bellowing the Ohio State Fight Song proudly and halfway through the second note Buckeye starts to howl weakly beside you.

Captain America bursts into another fit of laughter and pounds on the dashboard with his fists.

The Soldier whips around and slams his metal hand against your mouth, pushing your entire head back against the cushion. “Will you shut up!” To spite him, you continue humming to the best of your ability, even with your lip smushed up against your teeth and his cold palm. You raise your middle finger up between his eyes before holding the last note out particularly long.

Buckeye yowls and yips at your side, punctuating the tune with a quiet whine at the end. He lazily reaches up and licks the elbow joint between the front seat, leaving a slobber trail. He notices his reflection in it temporarily before getting distracted by Captain’s chuckle and lying back down.

Winter Soldier finally pulls his arm away and you take the opportunity to spitefully lick a similar stripe onto his palm, leaving it dripping with the spit you’ve accumulated in your mouth.

He crossly slumps in his seat. “I fucking hate this girl.” He mutters.

“It’s mutual, princess.” You retort, rubbing your stiff jaw and running your fingers against your lips. “What’s your problem with my dog’s name?” You’re a bit suspicious because he doesn’t seem like a college sports guy since he was non-responsive to your shirt but he sure as hell is not a fan of your dog.

“Do you know our names?” Captain America asks you, eyes alight. You shrug, because like, not really. World War II was interesting when you were in the sixth grade and morbid as fuck but it totally went in one ear and out the other for your entire college career. Even more boring was the Captain America propaganda, Super Soldier serum, humanity’s hubris bullshit. You were one of the few people you know who was not losing their mind when Tony Stark toured your university. More than anything, he annoyed you; he caused a huge traffic jam on campus and it ruined your route home. They just weren’t your thing—the Avengers.

“I mean, Stevie Ro… Rober—“ you gauge his reaction carefully, “Ronald— Ro— Ross? Rogers!” You breathe a sigh of relief as he memory of Emily Booth in fourth period doodling “Rogers” inside a million hearts appears in your mind. Then you turn to The Soldier and shrug. Plain as day, you could not recall his name whatsoever. You just called him the Dead Commando in that fourth period American History II final paper.

You got a passing grade, so “Dead Commando” stuck.

“It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“That’s fancy.” You deadpan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Bucky. For short.”

“Buck, for even shorter.” Rogers pipes up, still all twinkly in the eyes, waiting for you to put two and two together. Yeah. You do. It makes you want to die a little.

“Ugh.” Is all you can manage.

He shows up the next morning in civvies: white T-shirt, navy blue bomber jacket, and well-worn dark jeans. You stare dumbly at him as he leans against your doorframe, almost as wide as the entrance itself. You’re half-asleep and dressed in the clothes you had on last night: crumpled red Ohio shirt, mismatched pinstriped blue and white pajama shorts.

Your phone had been misplaced amidst the ruckus of the search party, so you just planned on missing your meeting today. It wasn’t like you could properly function anyway, barely getting to bed at 5:30 and waking up at the asscrack of dawn with Captain Underpants at your door.

Even his knocks sounded patriotic. Big, strong thumping blows that rattled all the way into your bedroom.

“Rough night?” Steve Rogers asks as you try your best to smooth the flyaways of your bedhead. Stupid, perfect, blonde and blue-eyed giant man.

“Am I being haunted? What are you doing here?” Your voice sounds like gravel in a blender as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He shrugs, looking down at his shoes and smiling secretively, like he’s got another corny joke up his sleeve. “Just wanted to see how Buck’s doing.”

“Don’t you have your own Buck to babysit? From what I remember, he needs a leash more than mine does.”

You let him in anyway, and your dog is waiting patiently by the couch, tail slapping the carpet as he remembers his savior from last night. Steve starts to coo as he scratches Buckeye’s chin and head, careful not to rile him up too much. He looks in complete ecstasy when Steve picks at a particularly good spot.

You shift awkwardly as you stand by the kitchen bar, leaning against a stool. How does one man still manage to look like his superhero moniker in civilian clothing? You bet yourself that his closet hung the same monochromatic color pallet—as if costume director dressed him, just in case he forgot he was Captain America.

“Well...” you begin, moving to the kitchen to brew yourself some coffee. Halfway to the single-serving French press, you trade it out for the larger one and add extra water in the kettle. You’re not sure what to say, so you shut up and groan inwardly as you grind the beans. You dip into the restroom and return with your toothbrush, scrubbing quietly as you watch Steve get on the floor to rub your dog’s pink tummy.

“If you pet him with your foot he won’t know the difference. Save ya knees, man.”

“This good boy deserves a real tummy rub, doesn’t he?” Captain America is using baby talk on your dog. It makes you feel... all funny.

Steve Rogers stands up and beams at you from across the counter. You frown because his perfect white smile is brighter than the sunlight streaming in through your window. You spit and rinse your toothbrush in the sink to avoid the shine, but he’s still there when you return. Great. Not a dream. Maybe a nightmare.

You take the kettle off the stovetop when it starts to squeak and blurt out another snarky comment just because you really hate silences and love being awkward. “Buckeye’s gonna get neutered soon. Wanna take yours too?”

Captain America chuckles and shakes his head, blue eyes twinkling at the hand on your hip. “You know, that smart mouth o’ yours is gonna get you into trouble one day.” You gulp as you pour the water suddenly aware that there is a real, live, broad-as-hell man standing in your living room and looking at you like you’re somebody... and he called your mouth smart.

You’re also suddenly aware that you look like shit and your hand shakes a little when you place the filter over the top of the floating coffee grinds.

“Fuck, I think I’m already in trouble.” You mutter into your shoulder as you turn.

Steve doesn’t catch the comment and digs his hand into his back pocket, producing the phone you’ve been missing since last night. You sigh in relief when you see it- as good as it was before, partially cracked screen, but still working. It’s warm when he puts it in your hand and you automatically pull a face.

“Butt heat. I mean--- hot! Hot ass!—Oh, damn it.”

You shut your eyes and the world feels like it’s stopped spinning altogether. Please god, you think, please let him be gone when you look again because you don’t think you can stand another minute on this Earth. Damn your stupid no-filter smart mouth.

He’s still there, though, because life is so stupid and whatever creator that exist hates you. His left eyebrow is raised, and he’s crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

“You need to brush up on your compliments.”

“Not a compliment!” You hiss, “Don’t put people’s phones in your back pocket! You’re too fucking big to be sitting on them. But thank you for giving it back.”

Steve laughs as you push the filter down on the French press. He’s saying something about how Bucky wanted to put his hand through the device, but your ears are ringing too loudly to hear him. You feel relieved anyway, because you think that you’ve reached your quip-quota for the day.

You pour yourself a cup and he puts his hands up to stop you, excusing himself-- somewhere to be, some old lady to save, he says. You fumble around a bottom cabinet for a second before pulling out a thermos and dumping the rest of the press’ coffee into it.

“Since you did hand-deliver my phone to me, it’s the least I can do. It’s blue, too. Complements your eyes.”

He smiles and takes the thermos from you. “That was a good compliment.” He says, all twinkly again.

“Complement, not compliment.” You correct bluntly.

He takes two steps to the door before turning, “No, the compliment was that you noticed my eyes at all.” He laughs when your face scrunches up, miffed. Captain America was a real … sonuvabitch. “By the way... I left you a number for a dogsitter, just in case you need one.” You rotate the flat rectangle of your phone against your chest as he yanks the door open. “It’s a good service. Reliable. And they text, too.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You stare at Buckeye, who whines pathetically at the door.

You cock your head, looking at the time on the splintered screen. Might as well, you think, reading 7:15 flashing back at you. You could make it to campus by 9.

The meeting drags on with your advisor, and it’s almost noon before you realize that you’re going to get hauled into another one of those pop-up seminars the faculty has been putting on all year. You’ve managed to avoid two because there’s just no fucking time to go! How are they expecting you to finish your thesis, go to class, grade a hundred stupid student papers, hold office hours, respond to a thousand e-mails a day, and keep your sanity?

It’s something you’re eager to complain to your therapist about any time she starts asking about your personal life. Which, you’ve been dodging re-scheduling recently. Shit.

You calculate the hours you’ll be away as you sip room-temperature coffee from a fuzzy paper cup. It’ll be another four hours before you can make it home and Buckeye really needs to go outside and have his bandages changed before then. Shit.

Your thumbprint opens the home screen and you scroll through your contacts, searching for that aforementioned “reliable” dogsitter. You hope to hell they’re also immediately available as you part a crowd of undergraduates to exit the building. Tapping the message bubble button, you open up a new thread.

You: Hello. I was referred to your services by a friend. Are you available today by any chance?

Your phone almost immediately vibrates back and you sigh in relief.

Dogsitter: That was fast.

You’re confused, but another response pops up again.

Dogsitter: What time do you need me to come by? And for how long?

You: ASAP? If that’s okay? Um. My dog is really fine on his own, but he’s been in an accident and I need him to have his bandages changed and given medicine. Also, he needs to be taken for a potty-break.

Dogsitter: Potty break, medicine, bandages. Got it…. And what about your key?

You: Yeah, I’ll send you my location for my key. What are your rates by the way?

You open up your map and set the pin to your location before sharing it with the dogsitter. It feels way too good to be true, but you’re a little crunched for time and even if he’s a crazy serial killer, you’ve got a pit bull and nothing of value in your apartment. You feel pretty secure.

The attempt to share your coordinates is rejected and you close the notification. Your phone buzzes in your hand again.

Dogsitter: My rates really depend on the dog… and shouldn’t you be asking for my name, or some identifying marker to recognize me by before I show up and take your [1/2]

You stare blankly at the green speech cloud. What the hell… even twitter updated its character count to 280… who the hell is living so far in the past… before you can finish your thought, the following green balloon appears.

Dogsitter: house key? Stranger danger, ma’am. [2/2]

All the right gears start clicking in your brain and suddenly two perfect pieces of the puzzle fits together. The mystifying black shadow on the other end of the line begins to come into view.

You: ….Steve... Roberts?

Dogsitter: Rogers!

The sound that erupts from your mouth is inhumanly pathetic, a mixture of a groan and a whine. Who did you piss off in your last life to be this cursed?

Next Chapter

#marvel #mcu #Steve x Reader x Bucky #fanfiction #self insert #stucky x reader #FiMS #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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johnny3finger · 3 years

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Ch.1 of my book Anemone Blue! Please read if you’ve got the chance, I could really use the critiques on this. What works? What doesn’t? Hope you enjoy!

Anemone Blue:

A picture is worth a thousand words, but a thousand words will never be worth a photo’s eternity, I thought to myself, imagining I was some great, famous photographer being interviewed. It was true though, my little quote I mean, a memory could be retold forever but slowly be morphed, while a photo has the ability to show you the moment... forever.

I couldn’t help but ignore the monotone lecture about summer photos coming from Mr. Aberdale’s mustache hidden mouth, and instead stared at the cemetery across the road, it always seemed like the spirits were calling out for me to watch them through their mossy stones. School was finally almost out for summer, and it was only minutes before the halls were going to become a zoo of students. To pass the time, I decided to take one final, longing look at the classroom around me. Of course it still looked the same, and of course I’d see it all again next year, but it’s different knowing you’ll never be in that exact moment ever again. The leaves would still sway in the humid June heat, the clock would still tick and tock asynchronously, the cream colored walls would still crack and peel, but never again would it be the exact same.

The bell rang, and just like that, my junior year had ended. Everybody pushed, shoved, and stomped their way out every door, ready to inhale that sweet smell of summer freedom, the smell of fresh cut grass and hot air. I eagerly crammed my things into my bag and rushed to join the hallway mosh pit, I made my way down the stairs of the two story school, squirming between classmates, and made my way towards the main lobby. Cycling through what summer things I’d be doing, I was struck with sudden realization, Oh crap! I’ve gotta meet the crew out front for our group picture! I was so tied up in the freedom fever that I had entirely forgotten about my favorite part of the year, the “Forever-Together Photo”. A stupid name sure, but my best friend Clancy came up with it, so it was the sentiment I liked, as well as taking pictures with everyone. It became tradition back in fifth grade, that at the beginning and the end of every school year, all of my friends would all gather together in front of the school and take a group picture together, to capture the memory forever.

I walked through the student infested double doors and made my way toward our usual spot in front of the school’s sign, “Bowy County High School” it read. Halfway there with the sign in sight, I hear a familiar voice call out to me from behind me, “Hey Connor, wait up!” I pause, and turn around to see nothing but a big wig of ginger curls and round spectacles bobbing up and down towards me, “Dude, dude, dude! This summer is going to be so awesome like you don’t even know! Not only is the ‘Galactic Bounty Hunter 3’ movie coming out, I also just got the new ‘Cosmic Crusaders’ comic too, and from what I’ve heard at the comic shop, this time they fight Doctor Shade, and it’s gonna be the fight of the century! Like this fight has literally been hyped up so much!” Clancy Armstrong, my best friend since way back in kindergarten, and I still had never met a nerdier, geekier, nor a more ginger kid than him. Once we finally caught up, I asked if he had any big summer plans, “Yeah, I guess you could say so, that movie is gonna be a pretty cool summer story,” He restated. He then paused in realization, and you could see the lightbulb in his head glow brighter than his red curls,“You should tag along with me to see the movie! Maybe we can even get the whole crew together, I mean I know Paris doesn’t like to openly talk about ‘nerdy’ stuff but I'm sure she’d love it, Taylor can crack jokes, Sarah can do her thing, and you and I can make our signature ‘chocopop’ bucket! What do you say?” His freckled cheeks curled into an excited and eager smile.

Before I could even return a response to him, almost as if on cue, everyone else appeared out of the front double doors and made their way to us. Taylor was prophesying his future while Sarah and Paris only pretended to listen. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m gonna try shooting some more hoops than usual this summer, to practice you know? I’m gonna go pro one day, and when I do, you guys will think I’m the coolest guy around. Nobody’s gonna stop me.” Their only response was a unanimous eye roll followed by a sigh. Taylor Buckley was always talking about sports, himself, and his future, even back when we met. I remember it vaguely, but we were gym partners all of third grade, we got along so great because we both had the same sense of humor, that, “joke about doing some disturbing action, but never actually do it,” kind of humor. He was definitely proficient at basketball all jokes aside, maybe not as good as his egotistical attitude defines, but a good player for sure. He had been playing on the school’s team since sixth grade, the Bowy Bulls, with ‘Bucky the Bull’ as their mascot.

“All you do is play basketball, you know there’s more to life than slapping balls around Taylor.” Paris smuggly crossed her arm and whipped her hair in comedic triumph. Paris Harper was the it girl, she had it all, wits, looks, personality, attitude, you name it, she was like a ‘mary sue’ in real life, I honestly couldn’t believe how perfect she seemed when we first met versus how diverse of a person she actually is now that I’ve known her for some years. “Ohhh wow, you should know a lot about slapping balls Paris, I bet you know the whole football team by last name!” Taylor sneered while Paris flipped her hair again, now in playful disdain. Her hair shimmered like a tree in autumn, with brown leaves layered in gold, like a setting sun.

Of course she’d never do something lewd like that, but with looks like hers, you build a reputation. That was the main reason she started hanging out with our ‘crew’ in the first place, we were the few good people left who didn’t judge her based on rumors, her worst years were freshman year, it was a new rumor every month, getting more heinous each time, it’s a miracle she never moved away. I looked over at Sarah, and like usual, she was nose deep in her sketchbook concocting some sort of new outfit, “What are your plans this summer Sarah?” I asked. Her eyes, bluer than any tide, contrasting her sunshine hair, looked up for just a second in acknowledgement, then shrugging her shoulders, and finally looking back into her little world, “Nothing really, some new drawings and stuff, I might buy some new pencils, but that’s probably about it,” She muttered. Sarah was the quietest of the group, very soft spoken and always minding her own, usually with a pencil in hand. I’d never admit it, but while everyone else had a thing for Paris, I always thought Sarah was just something...better. We met at the beginning of fourth grade, she was “the new girl”, from Maryland. I complimented one of her drawings, which was rightfully deserved, it was a green dragon wrapped around a victorian castle, with each detail of the brick and every scale of the dragon carefully inked onto the page, definitely a talent only learned through practice, you could see the callus on her finger from holding the pen, and i’ve liked her ever since.

The school lot was finally emptying, clear enough to at least have some form of law and order, “Hey, let’s take this picture guys,” I said over my shoulder as I set my tripod in front of the school’s sign, which was newly decorated with some kind of new, blue flowers. They all clustered in front of the sign, shuffling in and out of each other’s way so they could all be seen. Just like the flowers, everyone began to fill in for the photo, Taylor sported and flashed the team’s maroon and yellow jersey like he was representing a gang or trying to make a hit album cover, Sarah quietly held her sketchbook to her chest, while Paris was striking some dramatic pose on top of the ledge. Clancy, with perfect comedic timing, took his place smack in the middle of the sign, laying under the lettering like he’s in front of a romantic fireplace, it was the perfect centerpiece to bring us all together. We all chuckled a little, and I took a peek at them through the camera lens. I only thought about how so much time had passed by already and it felt bittersweet. It felt like it was just yesterday that everyone was at the park with each other, doing what little kids do. Now yet another year has passed, everybody is finding something to do, and everyone is growing up. I couldn’t help but wonder where that left me.

I set the timer and scuffled to an open spot next to Taylor, perfectly completing our quintet with Clancy being the majestic, cheeto-haired centerpiece. After the camera flash, I stumbled to grab it in my half blindness. Once adjusting to the world again, I looked at our masterpiece and thought, this one’s a keeper. A lovely photo complemented with lovely blue flowers, “the picture looks good guys, now what?” I inquired, lifting my head up to see everyone’s expression, as if it would tell me the answers. We all looked at each other, thinking that somehow it would sprout an idea, and like a switched bulb, Clancy perked up and chimed, “Hey, do you guys want to go see the new ‘Galactic Bounty Hunter’ movie? I mean it’s the third one, and I don’t know if you guys even like it, but I’m sure you would and I can fill you in on what happened in the other two on the way there or something. I know the movies inside and out, I’m sure you’ll love it!” I had no problem with seeing the movie, I never really got into the series myself, but I did want to spend some time together as a group. “It seems like a pretty good idea, it comes out in like what, two days?” I asked. Eager with excitement, Clancy piped, “Yeah, it comes out this Friday, if we ask tonight if we can see it, and plan it out tomorrow, we’ll be all set to go on Saturday.” With everyone nodding in half agreement, we all pondered his ‘masterful’ plan. “I’m down to see it, there might be cute girls working concessions or something.” Of course, convince Taylor there would be a cute girl and he’ll do anything. “Like they’d even want your baby face, those girls could probably be your babysitters. I kinda wanna see the movie, but not really, I mainly want to go so I can watch casanova over here get turned down in cold blood. I’m in.” Paris teased Taylor some more, and with the majority of people on board, there was only one left. “Sarah? You wanna go?” Still lost in her little world of art, she let out a soft “yeah, sure”, and kept on drawing, as if it was all she could do.

“Awesome! Let’s meet at the fortress tomorrow around noon and we can plan, this was like, the fastest we’ve ever made plans!” Clancy was more energetic than ever about this plan, which makes sense I guess, we’re probably the closest people to him, so doing something with all of us must mean a lot. “Stop calling it ‘the fortress’ dude, it’s getting kinda lame,” remarked Taylor, though his comment went ignored amongst everyone’s excitement. With big plans underway, we all couldn’t wait to get home, the bike racks were practically calling our name. I couldn’t get the thought of those flowers by the school sign out of my head though, “Hey you guys go on ahead, I’m gonna take a picture real fast,” I told them while I was already headed towards the front sign, almost as if I was being controlled. Everyone else started making their way towards the bike rack, but I couldn’t help but just be infatuated with the color and the presence of those flowers. Their petals looked smoother and softer than any fine silk i’d ever seen, and the shade of blue popped like it had its own spotlight. I creeped in closely, raising my camera ever so gently as to not disturb its photogenic quality... and took the most mediocre photo I had ever seen, can’t win them all.

Hustling my way back to the group before I was left behind, I noticed the sky had become a beautiful purple and pink sunset, perfect for a photo. “Hey Connor, you should totally take a picture of the sky right now, it’s so pretty! It’s probably competition worthy or something!” Clancy kept pointing out the colors of the sky, then pretending to be an overzealous photographer, making frames with his hands and spouting nonsense phrases like ‘ok show me angry’ and ‘oh yes, work it’. I chuckled, but as beautiful as the view was, there was no way a plain old sky photo would make it into a grand gallery, it wouldn’t even make it into a gallery of mediocre photos. Eventually arriving, there sat a neat array of colored bikes neatly lined, many of their colors now a cloudy haze of what they used to be. We said our goodbyes into the night, and donned our “steel horses”, as Clancy jokingly referred to them as, and rode off, into a dimming street; by myself yet again.

#books #novel #my writing #writeblr #reading #critique #writing #writerscommunity #fiction

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the-desolated-quill · 5 years

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Why Spider-Man Leaving The MCU Is The Best News I’ve Heard In Ages - Quill’s Scribbles

Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! Did you hear the news? I’d be surprised if you didn’t. EVERYONE has heard the news by now. A couple of days ago it was reported that the deal between Marvel and Sony that allowed the two studios to share custody for the rights of Spider-Man has fallen through. Spider-Man is no longer going to be part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Speaking as someone who is not only a big Spider-Man fan, but also a very vocal critic of the current state of Marvel and Disney’s cynical and convoluted ‘shared universe’, this caused quite a reaction when I first heard the news. I’m as happy as a man who just found out his high school crush likes him back on the same day he won the lottery. Happy, but not surprised. In fact I’m more surprised that other people were surprised by the news. The deal Marvel and Sony managed to strike was almost unheard of. Two rival movie studios in mutual cooperation. Never thought I’d see the day. But if you thought this was going to be the new norm, then I’m afraid you don’t understand this industry. I knew, or at least suspected, that once Sony had a hit on their hands, they’d cut ties with Marvel and Disney. It was only a matter of time. Now that Spider-Man: Far From Home has made over a billion dollars at the box office and now they have found success with their own non-MCU films, Venom and Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse, the simple fact of the matter is they don’t need Marvel or Disney anymore. So they’ve flown the coop. Yes it’s possible they could renegotiate the deal, but given how unlikely the prospect of the initial deal was in the first place, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. It’s more likely they’re going to take their ball and go home. Sony’s Universe Of Marvel Characters (despite its incredibly clunky name) is now going to be firmly built upon and expanded, and I for one could not be more excited.

Of course not everyone shares my excitement. Disney, for one thing, aren’t happy. Nor are the cast. Jeremy Renner has made his views clear, begging Sony to give the rights to Spidey back. (Perhaps he should focus more on his own character Hawkeye, considering what a mess he’s become). Die hard MCU fans aren’t pleased neither. Same goes for ‘celebrity’ fans like Kevin Smith, a filmmaker who preferred to be called a comic book expert on the Venom Blu-Ray bonus features presumably because he hasn’t actually been relevant as a filmmaker since the 90s. (it’s worth reading his thoughts just for a laugh. He honestly thinks Disney aren’t greedy, corporate bastards. ROFL). And of course the so-called ‘professional’ critics, who for years have deluded themselves into thinking the MCU is actually good, have been writing their own little think pieces about what all this means. Can Spider-Man possibly survive without Iron Man and pals to prop him up? To which the answer is obviously yes. Sony had the rights to Spidey for fourteen years before the Marvel deal. They made five Spider-Man movies, four of which were massive box office successes. They also released Venom and Spider-Verse last year. Both hugely successful and the latter even won an Oscar, which is one more Oscar than Marvel Studios have ever won (sorry Black Panther. You were robbed).Can Spider-Man survive outside the MCU? Gee I don’t know. I guess somehow Sony will find the strength to soldier on without them.

Although, that being said, there’s not as many journalists siding with Disney as I thought there would be. There are quite a few articles explaining how this split could help Spidey in the long run, which is both absolutely true and refreshing to see. Hopefully this is a sign that we’re finally turning a corner and critics are starting to use their brains again. Like how everyone worshipped the ground Steven Moffat walked on until Sherlock Series 4 where everyone realised that he’s actually shit and has always been shit.

Spider-Man leaving the MCU is the best thing you could do for the character at this stage. The way he’s been treated since joining the Marvel clusterfuck has been nothing short of appalling. I’ve made it no secret how much I detest this version of Spider-Man and some might dismiss what I’m about to say out of hand, perhaps claiming I’m biased because I’ve said numerous times that I love The Amazing Spider-Man films starring Andrew Garfield. Two films I will go to my grave defending because they were bloody good movies. People were just butt hurt because it wasn’t Spider-Man 4. Never mind the fact that the original Sam Raimi films were never that good to begin with (seriously, have any of you actually watched Spider-Man 2 recently? Trust me. It’s not as good as you remember it). No, I promise you that if MCU Spidey existed in a vacuum, I would still hate him just as much for the simple reason that he has absolutely nothing in common with the source material. Under the watchful, Orwellian eye of Marvel, they took Spider-Man, a character most famous for being a working class everyman, and turned him into the most spoilt and privileged little bum-balloon I’ve ever seen.

Spider-Man: Homecoming was a terrible movie. Plain and simple. A cynically produced, written by committee, pile of wank that gets so much of Spidey’s character and story completely wrong, it’s almost impressive. No longer a teenager/young adult struggling to balance his superhero life, his school work, his career and his social life, instead we got a groomed Mary Sue who doesn’t have to fight for anything because everything is basically handed to him on a silver platter courtesy of Iron Man. We never see him struggle. He’s not relatable. He never has to face consequences for his actions. He misses God knows how many classes and debate group meetings and yet he never gets punished for it. Sure he gets sent to detention a couple of times, but we see him leave whenever he bloody wants to. It’s just boring. If there’s no struggle, where’s the tension? And the less said about the villain, the better. Taking an eccentric antagonist like the Vulture and turning him into the stereotypical blue collar dad trying to provide for his family has got to be one of the most uninspired and blatantly lazy bits of characterisation I think I’ve ever seen. And that’s not to mention the supporting cast. Aunt May is youthed for no reason other than to make sexist jokes at her expense with every man that comes within her general vicinity staring at her with their tongues hanging out and eyes as large as saucepans. Minor villains like Shocker and the Tinkerer have their characters reduced to unfunny comedy sidekicks. And then there’s Peter Parker’s gang of racial stereotypes. We have Peter’s best friend, the fat and nerdy Ned who has no real personality other than being fat and nerdy (and is without a doubt the most annoying character in the damn film). Flash has been racebent so now he’s the stereotypical arrogant Asian prick. Michelle has no character other than being the same sassy black teenager who don’t give a shit, a caricature so old now it’s practically been fossilised. And then there’s the love interest Liz, a character so bland and one dimensional that I had to look her name up. Oh and lets not forget that the majority of this Spider-Man’s story was nicked from Miles Morales because people are only going to empathise with his story if it revolves around a white kid, am I right?

You know, I get so frustrated whenever people slag off the Amazing Spider-Man movies and claim that these new movies are better because... well... WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! I’m sorry, but I was much more invested with Peter and Gwen than I ever was with Peter and... what’s her face? Or Peter and Michelle (who I categorically refuse to call MJ because she’s not MJ, is she? They just used the initials to pander to gullible fans. They didn’t have the guts to just make Mary Jane Watson black, did they? Of course not! We don’t want to alienate the casual racists, do we? They’re our main demographic after all). The reason why Peter and Gwen worked is because they’re well-written, three dimensional characters with great chemistry and whom we actually spend a significant amount of time getting to know. So when Gwen dies at the end of The Amazing Spider-Man 2, it becomes a heart wrenching moment because we’ve grown invested in this character and this relationship. If Michelle were to die in a future movie, I honestly wouldn’t bat a fucking eyelid. Even Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst had more chemistry than those two, and that relationship was a total shambles from start to finish.

It also helps that Peter and Gwen felt like real people. I loved the scene in the first movie where Peter awkwardly asks her out because it reminded me so much of how I asked my first girlfriend out. And that’s why I love the Amazing Spider-Man movies. Because out of all the Spidey films we’ve had over the past 17 years, the Amazing ones are the only ones in my opinion that manage to capture the humanity of the character. As fantastical as the world is, the characters, their relationships and their dilemmas are grounded firmly in reality. Homecoming on the other hand is just embarrassing. Despite casting teenage actors, none of the teenagers actually act like teenagers. They act like five year olds. It’s painfully obvious that the filmmakers are trying to pander to young kids and they clearly don’t know how to write them. Again, this is where the Amazing movies stands head and shoulders above the others. They’re not treated like kids or teenagers. They’re treated like people. Real people. Same goes for the villains. (Yes, even Electro, despite wonky execution).

But the main criticism people have with MCU Spidey is that these films aren’t actually about Spidey. They’re really about the MCU mascot Iron Man.

Now to be clear, I don’t necessarily have a problem with the idea of Iron Man being a surrogate father figure to Spidey. It could work. Captain America: Civil War, despite the clunky and contrived way in which Spidey was introduced to the MCU (oh you just happened to know about a masked vigilante we haven’t seen or heard of until now Tony? Okay. What about Daredevil and Luke Cage?... What do you mean they’re not in the movie?), did a good job of setting up the dynamic. Namely that Tony doesn’t actually care about Peter or his well being, merely using him for his own ends. Unless Americans have some kind of ‘Bring Your Child To A Warzone Day’ I don’t know about.

Despite its flaws, Civil War was good because it gave us an unsettling look at the characters we’ve been watching for years. We see Captain America consumed by his own naivety and idealism to the point where he can no longer see the bigger picture and we see Iron Man go from being an industrial capitalist to an authoritarian fascist. Homecoming could have followed up on that. Have Spidey realise that Tony doesn’t have his best interests at heart, reject him as a father figure and grow into his own man. Instead the movie seems to go out of its way to undo all the interesting things Civil War brought to the table. Of course Tony cares about Peter! Oh and his relationship problems with Pepper Potts have been magically fixed off screen and now they’re getting married! Relax people, it’s okay! Nothing morally complicated going on here! We apologise for assuming you’re actually intelligent and promise never to make you think about anything ever again!

Not only is this quite insulting to the audience, it also negatively impacts Spidey’s arc. Turns out the movie isn’t about Spider-Man becoming his own man. It’s about him proving he can be an Avenger. He’s constantly in the shadow of Iron Man and, more to the point, we’re supposed to be happy that he’s in the shadow of Iron Man.

Again, this is where the Amazing Spider-Man gets it right. The first movie is very much about father figures. Uncle Ben, Curt Connors and Gwen’s dad all play a role in Peter’s growth and development over the course of the film. He’s able to take all the lessons and advice he gets from the three and use them to become his own man. As director Marc Webb so eloquently put it, ‘it’s a story about a kid who grows up looking for his father and finds himself.’ Compare that to the current iteration of Spidey where Uncle Ben doesn’t even appear to exist in this continuity because he’s been completely supplanted by Iron Dad. Remind me again why people think the Amazing movies are shit?

The latest film, Spider-Man: Far From Home, is no better. Same problems as before only this time Mysterio gets MCU’d to death. Instead of the pathetic loser trying desperately to receive recognition for his talents, we basically get a rehash of the plot from Iron Man 3, which in turn was a rehash of the plot from The Incredibles. Mysterio is basically trying to supplant Iron Man because he got screwed over when he used to work for Stark, and it’s up to everyone’s favourite wall-crawler to stop him because there’s only room in this universe for one Iron Boy. Even when Iron Man is dead, he’s still front and centre of the fucking narrative. Here’s a bright idea. How about we make a Spider-Man film that’s actually, you know, about Spider-Man? (Oh yeah, spoiler alert, Iron Man dies in Avengers: Endgame. Not that it’s really spoiling anything because Endgame is a big piece of shit).

Here’s the thing. Everyone is blaming Sony for the deal breaking down, and okay, I’m not going to pretend that Sony aren’t cynical. As much as I love The Amazing Spider-Man movies, I’m well aware the only reason they exist is because Sony desperately wanted to keep the rights. They spent a stupid amount of money on The Amazing Spider-Man 2 to the point where it needed to make a billion dollars at the box office in order to make a decent profit (a feat only achieved at that time by Batman with The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises) and they crammed loads of characters and plot points into an already overstuffed movie in order to rush out their own shared universe to compete with Marvel. When that didn’t work, they went crawling to Marvel and Disney in the hopes that the MCU could bail them out of the shit. I get it. There’s plenty to criticise. But for the likes of Kevin Smith and other idiots to only blame Sony and defend Marvel is really quite galling to me because Marvel and Disney are just as cynical, if not more so.

Does anyone here actually know what the deal was? Basically the agreement was that Kevin Feige would get lead producer credit for any solo Spider-Man films and Marvel and Disney would get five percent of the cut. Meanwhile Spider-Man would be allowed to appear in any MCU film. Also, because Sony still hold the rights to the character, they get the final say on any creative decision regarding Spider-Man. Or at least that’s the theory anyway. In reality that wasn’t the case. Reportedly Marvel and Disney were so anal about keeping the plot of Avengers: Endgame a secret that they didn’t tell the screenwriters of Spider-Man: Far From Home what happens in the bloody film. And considering that the film follows directly on from Endgame, that’s quite a problem. Sony may have creative control over Spider-Man, but Marvel and Disney can still call the shots, deliberately sabotaging Sony in order to boost hype for their own films. Also Sony are actually worse off in this deal because Marvel and Disney are the ones making all the money. Spider-Man has appeared in three MCU films. Captain America: Civil War, Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame. All three of these films made Marvel and Disney over a billion dollars at the box office. Sony meanwhile have only made two Spidey movies, Homecoming and Far From Home, only one of which has made over a billion and both of which Marvel and Disney get five percent of the profit. Now that Sony have finally got their billion dollar Spider-Man movie, Marvel and Disney had the cheek to propose that Sony share fifty percent of the profits with them. Because it’s not enough for Marvel and Disney to be making shit tons of money off their own films. No. They also want as much money as they can get out of films made by other studios that are only tangentially related to their’s. God forbid a movie studio should be allowed to keep all the profits from their movie.

So yeah, I’m glad Sony have split and are free to make their own movies again. Because Disney have got such a strangle hold on the entire industry that I’m always happy to see any studio or IP slip through their fingers. And I’m not the only one who thinks this. Do you know who else agrees with me? Stan Lee’s own daughter.

In an interview with TMZ, Joan Lee slammed Disney for their lack of compassion when her father passed away:

“When my father died, no one from Marvel or Disney reached out to me. From day one, they have commoditised my father’s work and never shown him or his legacy any respect or decency. In the end, no one could have treated my father worse than Marvel and Disney’s executives.”

She then went on to support Sony’s decision to break the deal with Marvel, saying ‘whether it’s Sony or someone else’s, the continued evolution of Stan’s characters and his legacy deserves multiple points of view.’

And do you know what? She’s right. She’s absolutely right.

While people were celebrating when Disney bought 20th Century Fox because the X-Men and Fantastic Four were finally going to be part of their precious shared universe, I was watching in absolute horror because nobody was actually talking about the ramifications of this. Disney serves as a cautionary tale of what happens when capitalism goes unchecked. Seeing this mega-corporation consume and absorb other major studios like some Lovecraftian monster is both frightening and heartbreaking for me because the industry is going to be so much lesser for it. Less studios means less movies are going to be produced. It also means less variety in the entertainment we consume. Marvel and Disney have already done their utmost to homogenise and dumb down every MCU film to the point where most of them all feel the same, look the same and have nothing unique or creative about them whatsoever. And now we’re on the cusp of seeing that potentially happening to my most favourite superhero in the whole wide world:

Thanks to the Disney buyout, plans for X-Force and Deadpool 3 have been placed on indefinite hold with people reckoning we won’t see the Merc with the Mouth again until Phase 5 (Christ, give me strength) of the MCU so that Marvel and Disney can work out exactly how to fit him into their shared universe. Naturally the R rated nature of the character makes him difficult to integrate into the PG-13 MCU. Some have suggested toning down the character. Even David Leitch, the director of Deadpool 2, said they could make a PG-13 version of the character, which just feels like such a massive betrayal. After literally years of Ryan Reynolds, director Tim Miller, screenwriters Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, and the fans fighting tooth and claw to get an R rated Deadpool movie green-lit, it sickens me whenever I see people discussing how a PG-13 Deadpool wouldn’t be so bad and that they just want to see him pop up in an Avengers movie.

Here’s a suggestion. If you can’t make someone like Deadpool fit into the MCU, STOP TRYING TO FUCKING DO IT! Let him be his own separate thing! I’ve got no problem with that! But no. Everything has to be connected to this idiotic shared universe, but here’s the thing, I really don’t fucking care. I couldn’t give two shits if Deadpool and Captain America were to meet in a movie. I just want to see X-Force and Deadpool 3. I just want some good fucking movies. Is that really too much to ask?

The MCU, and by extension Disney, are slowly ruining the industry with this shared universe crap and I’m getting so bloody sick of this. Not only does the premise have absolutely nothing new to offer at this point, it’s also ruining the quality of standalone movies. Instead of telling compelling stories with likeable characters, they’re just adverts for more movies to come with nothing unique to offer. Oooooh, can the Avengers stop Thanos and unkill everyone who we know aren’t really dead because they all have fucking sequels planned? Tune in next week to confirm what you already bloody know! I don’t give a fuck what you’ve got planned for me down the road in ten or fifteen movies time. Right now I’m stuck here at a service station and I’ve got no fucking sandwiches.

Off the top of my head, the only MCU films I can think of that I’ve watched in recent memory and I’ve actually enjoyed are Captain America: Civil War and Black Panther. And do you know why? Because they actually have something to say. They’re not focused on teasing the next bullshit spinoff movie. Black Panther in particular has little to no connection with the rest of the MCU. It works as its own standalone piece and has its own unique voice, commenting on how black people are viewed in society. Civil War takes elements from previous films and goes in an entirely new direction with them, exploring the faults in our beloved Avengers and questioning their role as superheroes. It offers something beyond a tease for the next film. It poses thought provoking questions about the characters and forces us to confront some harsh truths about them. But in an environment like the MCU, where everything is pre-planned by committee, there’s no room for creativity or expression, which means the few good movies get stifled. It’s impossible to continue the themes of Civil War because Homecoming exists to contradict everything. Black Panther is an amazing and impactful movie, but its impact is lessened thanks to Infinity War where we see the Wakandans reduced to little more than cannon fodder so that the real heroes can fight the baddie.

It’s frustrating to see people blindly accept and support the poisonous business model of Marvel and Disney because it’s not normal, it’s not benefiting the industry at large and it’s not even financially viable in the long term. Marvel Studios’ success revolves around one franchise. What happens when the shared universe/comic book movie bubble bursts and people eventually stop watching these films? (and it will happen because it always happens. That’s how trends work). They’re going to be up shit street, aren’t they? At least Warner Bros have Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings to fall back on. Their future isn’t entirely dependant on the success of the DCEU (thank God, some might say).

Also it’s worth noting that studios are slowly starting to move away from the shared universe format. Before the buyout, 20th Century Fox were taking risks with smaller budget, standalone movies like Deadpool and Logan. After the disaster that was Justice League, Warner Bros and DC have recently started focusing more on standalone movies to great success. Aquaman and Shazam, while still part of the DCEU, work as their own independent films. We’ve also got Joker being released in a couple of months time, which I think everyone should be paying really close attention to, because if Joker is critically and commercially successful, it could very well serve as the death knell for the concept of a shared universe. Definitive proof that you don’t need twenty movies and interconnecting stories with massive budgets to be successful. All you need is a very good idea.

Even Sony have finally learnt their lesson. They’ve taken a risk with Into The Spider-Verse and received an Academy Award for their trouble. As for Sony’s Universe Of Marvel Characters, they’re already off to a strong start with Venom. And mercifully they’re not making the same mistakes they did with the Amazing Spider-Man 2 or Ghostbusters. They’re not spending ridiculous amounts of money with unrealistic expectations of success and they’re no longer putting the cart way before the horse. They’re focusing on making a good movie first and worrying about potential expansion later. Venom may not be a masterpiece, but it’s a hell of a lot more entertaining and fulfilling than the majority of MCU films because it tells a complete story with a beginning, middle and end and it has well developed characters that we actually like and grow attached to. And if worst comes to the worst and Sony’s next film, Morbius, doesn’t do well, then they have Venom 2 to fall back on. And if that doesn’t work, they’ll still have Spider-Verse. They are no longer putting all their eggs in one basket and that’s good. That’s the smart thing to do.

Can you imagine something like Venom in the MCU? Of course not! Because Venom has its own unique tone and vision. That’s why it was so successful with audiences. Its mix of dark comedy and campy sci-fi horror made it stand out from the crowd. Marvel and Disney want us to believe that there’s only one way to make a superhero movie, when that’s simply not true. And now that Spider-Man is free to find his own unique voice again, hopefully people will begin to see just how creatively limiting and damaging the MCU truly is.

#spider-man #sony #anti marvel #anti disney #quill's scribbles

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comradekatara · 5 years

Note

Pls tell me random things about the modern au

sure!

please keep in mind this is not chronologically-ordered because i am far too pomo for (scoff) linear narratives

(* = chell’s contributions)

suki drives a truck, and said truck is a legend

azula goes to harvard, despite her objectively terrible character (ohhhh shots fired!!!!)

zuko doesn’t try very hard in school, because he knows that if he were to actually try, he would feel worse about azula being better than him (he’s not living under ozai’s roof––anymore––so it doesn’t matter) but it’s way too easy to trick her into taking naclo, which is where he shines. it drives her crazy that he won’t tell her his score. “you just wont tell me because you know i did better than you” “….maybe :)” “UGH ZUKO JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU GOT!!!!!!!!”

the day before aang’s first day of high school, sokka gently tries to inform him that he is too old to be wearing heelies

toph isn’t allowed on any sports teams due to her blindness, so she fights the administration every single day, and (physically) fights random people just for fun, and they so desperately want to punish her for it but she is a genius wunderkind pride & joy of their institution and they know that unless she gets really out of line, their hands are tied. but they still refuse to let her play sports

“suki’s nervous because today’s the day of the Big Game,” sokka tells zuko. zuko can swear he said the same thing yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that. it is always the day of the Big Game. when zuko asks katara about it she rolls her eyes and says, “don’t be stupid, the Big Game only happens once a year.” and so, the concept of sports continues to wear on his sanity

azula’s all, “i swear to god, if sokka is valedictorian i will burn EVERYTHING to the GROUND” and zukos like “why do you even care youre not even in his class” (but it’s the PRINCIPLE of it, zuzu!!!!!!!)

aang has a really big dog named appa, and a flying lemur named momo. no one questions this

it is very apparent to everyone except for mai and zuko that mai and zuko are not happy together. mais not “in love” with “ty lee” what an idiotic thing to even suggest

toph’s favorite joke is stumbling into nothing and then yelling “OW! watch where you’re going!” to which zuko sighs and says, “toph theres no one there” and tophs like “no i can swore i bumped into something” and zukos like “no. u didnt. u know u d––” “mustve been your closet, then. EYOOOOO”

sokka refuses to admit to himself that the reason he “doesnt do” relationships is to keep himself from getting hurt (see: yue). katara not so gently reminds him that if he truly “didnt do” relationships, then why does suki practically live in her house.

katara thinks clubs are stupid and school spirit is lame but then she finds out that their school doesn’t have a straight gay alliance so she starts one. no one joins except for toph, who just sits there in the corner and eats peanuts with a wide smile, staring straight ahead.

in his senior year, aang finally gets to be the mascot the night of the Big Game. everyone comes back just to support him. zuko has not set foot in his hometown in at least three years, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t support aang’s dreams. (plus he’s pretty sure katara would kill him if he didn’t.) once the Big Game starts (the first and only Big Game zuko ever attends), sokka notices zuko staring really intently at the field, and that he has been for about a half hour now. he’s like “whats….goin on??” and zuko mutters, “i’m trying to figure out what sport theyre playing.” sokkas just like “oh my god”

suki and sokka miss their prom because they got too invested in their game of monopoly. toph humbly accepts their crowns in their place. the teachers are just like “wait who even let her in here isnt she a freshman��

katara plays hockey. azula does track and kickboxing. they are both fierce, violent, and terrifying. both katara and azula tried to join suki’s roller derby team, but suki wisely rejected them both because they were, in her estimation, “not a good culture fit.” she told them the team was already full.*

zuko, suki and toph are in a band. their music is very lyrical and also very screamy (only suki and toph get to sing, natch). believe it or not, aang is their biggest fan. aang plays the triangle and the flute and the harp, which you might think would not exactly fit with their style, but they do invite him onstage for gigs sometimes and somehow the combination is excellent.*

katara is a mediocre student. zuko is great in his literature classes and his art classes and kind of tragic at everything else. nevertheless, they try to study together. mostly katara just comes over to zuko’s house and scuffs up his coffee tables and eats a lot of food out of the fridge. zuko considers this direct action against his terrible father, and he loves it*

azula is obsessed with sneakers. yeah that’s it that’s a whole bullet point*

suki’s truck is disgusting and made up of a seemingly boundless mess, but there are three recurring themes that are most apparent when you enter: weed, construction equipment for some weird building project she never tells anyone the details of, and other girls’ underwear*

katara thinks sokka is a narc for having gotten jet suspended. “he called in a BOMB THREAT, KATARA”

sokka is the head of the science club. because he loves science. toph and suki are also in the science club. because they love watching (and listening to) things explode.

everyone agrees that debate should be renamed “sokka and azula fight for 90 minutes.” azula spends a week drafting up a foolproof argument, manipulating the whole class into picking said topic, and then pretending its unrehearsed, and sokka spends no time in saying “nope. thats wrong.” on days where he chairs the debates, azula always wins because he’s forced to remain impartial, and no one else can out-debate her. it is on those days that he goes home and proceeds to rant about how everything azula said was wrong and why.

katara and azula also fight, of course, but never in a structured setting. sometimes it ends in bloodshed. toph enjoys egging them on way too much.

sokka is constantly misplacing his possessions. that is, when neither zuko nor suki are around to personally keep track of all his belongings. he loses his phone about twice a day. he’s checking the chem lab to see if he left his phone in there, but azula is already there, presumably to work on a lab. she offers to call his phone for him, and he types his number into her phone because she is too embarrassed to admit she already has his number (and a tracking device in place but thats not important). unfortunately, azula is the one to locate his phone, so she sees that her contact name is, “ZUKO’S SISTER??!??!!!!???!???!!??!!!!?” she has never been more offended in her entire life.

katara is always threatening to beat up anyone who so much as looks at aang funny. no one would hurt aang, though. everyone loves aang.

sokka loves art class. he also hates art class. he likes that he has a structured time and space in which to paint, and he loves painting. he hates that his paintings always turn out looking like wet garbage, especially compared to those of the guy who sits near him, who clearly is not even trying. he is the rich to sokka’s jeff. at least in sokka’s mind. sokka will oft complain about “that asshole who thinks he’s too good for art class,” but suki pays him no mind and rolls her eyes. until one day, when sokka and suki are being particularly annoying and making out in the middle of the hallway, which is particularly upsetting for zuko because a) that is Hot Guy From His Art Class and b) he will either have to wait for them to finish or politely ask them to move, as they are right in front of his locker. he says, “do you mind moving?” and he means this as politely as possible, but sokka is like “wow what a haughty bitch” so he just holds his index finger up as if to say “one second” and that is that is such an asshole move that zuko has no choice but to yell “what the fuck?!?” far too loudly. it leads to a kerfuffle that eventually lands them both in detention (suki was an innocent party and sokka is more than willing to take the fall for her.) their detention becomes a breakfast club meets war balloon, and sokka actually sort of tells someone about yue. that’s weird. why’d he do that? neither of them know. zuko has no idea what to say. well, this is awkward. another half hour passes. sokka idly mentions that they could totally find a way out of this room by crawling through the vents and then climbing the beams in the gym and after that it’s only a matter of finding an open window––and not getting caught. this is a joke, a completely hypothetical joke, of course. zuko’s like, “let’s do it.” sokka’s like “oh shit this bitch is crazy,” but, y’know, they pull it off. they run out of the school and keep running and only stop when sokka has the dawning realization that if any of this goes on his permanent record that definitely lessens his chances of getting scholarships. but zuko assures him that mr. bumi doesn’t actually give a fuck, and then offhandedly mentions that he sort of gives him the creeps, and sokka wholeheartedly agrees. this prompts more and more conversation, as they just kind of wander about various streets. once they finally realize that it’s gotten completely dark around them, it occurs to them that they may as well have stayed in detention.

people won’t shut up about the shit that went down at post-prom. “did you see when that one guy…??” “yeah dude that was wild.” suki just smiles knowingly, and so her friends are all “oh did u hook up with ty lee again?” and she’s like “even better. i won monopoly.”

katara hates zuko for incredibly petty reasons. like, “he took the last popsicle out of her fridge” petty. then, she very obtrusively finds out that hes gay and is immediately like Oh We Are Friends Now. zuko’s life has suddenly become so much more convenient now that katara is no longer being mean to him that it actually takes him a while to realize that katara is being actively nice to him.

they talk about waves in physics, and it shakes toph to her core. later that day, she asks sokka to explain what colors are to her. he does not do a good job. starts talking about plato’s allegory of the cave, and the double slit experiment??? what??? zuko explaining that “colors are a feeling” is only marginally more helpful. so toph ultimately enlists suki’s help in explaining to her which colors are lame and which colors are dykey. suki immediately says “flannel.”

so yes aang may have technically stolen momo from the zoo but its not his fault because momo followed him home and refused to leave his side!!!!

once mai grows out of her “everyone is an idiot and i hate the world” phase, sokka realizes that she’s actually really cool. they hang out constantly. they have a weekly board game night, and they take turns hosting, which is hilarious because mai lives in a mansion and has an actual butler. their secret handshake is needlessly complicated. zuko tries to pretend it isn’t weird. but…. it’s weird right?? and like, it’s weird that no one else thinks it’s weird???? ……..why does no one else think it’s weird?????

azula is, of course, valedictorian, and her speech is about as bone-chilling as you’d expect. her jokes are too cruel to land. she namedrops harvard about ten times. she manages to squeeze in an offhanded dig at sokka, which makes katara nearly fight her onstage. at the afterparty, azula overhears a conversation wherein one meathead jock whose name she never learned says to another meathead jock whose name she never learned, “oh, but remember that speech from last year??? it was so funny.” this prompts her to have a little too much to drink, which only sokka notices (he showed up for katara and then he was dragged to the party by his friends), so he ends up driving her home. as a graduation gift to her, he says, he changes her contact name in his phone to “Azula.”

sokka has en english teacher who really has it out for him. katara tells him she had him before and wishes she could punch him in the face, and that it’s not his fault that he’s doing poorly in that class. still, sokka begs zuko to tutor him in english. zuko’s just like “you’re perfectly fine at english pakku just sucks” but he agrees to tutor him anyway. sokka’s grades do not improve in the slightest, but he does not care.

the week in which SAT results are expected to arrive, azula is weirdly vigilant about the mail. she makes sure to check the scores and then put it back in the envelope before anyone sees that it was opened. she very casually asks zuko “so what did you get?” and zuko just kinda shrugs impassively and walks away. azula smiles to herself.

katara comes home one night to find mai and sokka watching a movie on her couch. (the movie is phantom thread and there are tears of laughter streaming down both their faces by the time it’s over.) she’s like “oh hey guys i saw both your girlfriends making out with each other at a party twenty minutes ago,” and sokkas like “for the last time, katara, suki’s not my girlfriend!!” and mai just angrily shushes her because she’s talking over the johnny greenwood score!!!!! smh.

toph never stops yelling at the administration for their ableism. and you’d best believe her valedictory speech blows everyone else’s out of the water.

#woah this got long #this is what happens when u cant move from bed and u also refuse to do real work i guess #modern au #ur welcome for this novel #asks #sinxaschwarz

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saundraswriting · 4 years

Text

Hercules Chapter Four

SUMMARY:Spencer takes more responsibility for the case, trying to translate all the pig Latin. Morgan takes care of Reid. And JJ? well she finds out some interesting information.

WARNINGS: None

Previous // Next

Morgan, Gideon Hotch and JJ sat at a table, silent. The food had come and gone. Spencer eating only half and saving the rest. Morgan knew it was a result of too much caffeine-a depressed appetite. Reid having discovered the code to be Pig Latin knew translating by himself was quicker and easier than trying to have a computer translate or Garcia build a program to try.

I can ask him. He won't say no." JJ said.

"He won't say no to anyone. It's not just fair. He hasn't slept in two days." Morgan said.

"I am taking a break right now. And you all should learn to not talk within my earshot if you want to talk about me. I will assume RR numero uno was a bust. Which means the last option right now is me translating pig Latin to understand what these kids all had in common to get murdered.' Reid interjected. "So can I have the materials? and paper?" Reid grabbed his Nth coffee in three days.

Morgan and Hotch began moving things around, making it easier for Reid to dive into his task. He began flipping pages quickly with one hand and speaking into a voice recorder as he did so. The LEO's and BAU watched on in awed silence for a moment or two. Morgan could feel his lips pull down into a frown, noticing the pale color to his friend's face. 'Maybe, it's the lighting. Fluorescents wash everyone out.'

"Okay, lets build a timeline. We need to compare the big things here. The details will fall into placed as we go." Hotch ordered.

The began. The timeline stated who had been killed so far: Leonard was strangled. Ophelia was stabbed in the neck, the wound then cauterized. Tabitha was maimed by arrows and tied up. Everett was shot by poisoned arrows. Each person was found in a different part of Portland. Leonard was found by a school mascot statue, Ophelia was found in a swampy area. Tabitha was found in the woods. Everett was found at the base camp of a shut-down ski resort.

Just as they were finishing, an officer hurried in. "The just found another body. 17 year old male. Wallet says his name is Blaine Robinson. He was found by the office for Majestic Pastures. A business that stables horses for those of the monetary influence."

"Are you kidding me?" Morgan snarled.

Reid poked his head out from his cave. "Give me the coordinates for kill site, dump site, and his home. I will also need the place last seen." Reid retreated into his room to pace.

"Gideon, JJ go to the Robinson home. I and Morgan will go to the dump site." Hotchner directed everyone.

Reid paused in his pacing to stare at the map. He could feel it on the tip of his tongue. He knew he knew the answer but the more he stared at it and though about it, the farther away it got. He groaned in frustration and ran the equations again. The image seemed to be four off shoots of a central point. but the offshoots hit a 90 degree angle. Although with out more data, the central point would continue to be evasive. Spencer shook his head and return to the Pig Latin. Everett's letter were almost done, and then he could synthesize everything.

Twenty minutes later, Reid had finished translating, he was going through the recording to get key points to look into later. He exited his cavern of solitude to breathe when a press conference from earlier came on TV.

"Look! The recluse has come out from his hiding spot. What great genius shall spew from his mouth now?" Thomas sneered. Spencer remembered him from earlier.

"Hello, Thomas. Interesting you compare me to a deadly spider. That means one of two things. Thing the first- you are scared of that which you do not understand, or fear; or thing the second-You destroy that which intimidates you. Neither answer puts you in a good light. Now, if you excuse me. I need a nap. Thank you." Reid sat in one of the empty desks and pillowed his head on his folded arms.

"You just gonna crash? On a desk? at a police station? Maybe you aren't so smart after all." Thomas' insult fell a little flat after the comments Reid made.

"I have slept in way worse places. The noise level here? Better than the silence of being in a cage, blindfolded and starving, hoping your team caught the clues in time before the scumbag you're hunting kills you." Reid said, almost dismissingly.

"Yeah? With as weird as you are, I bet all kinds of people want to lock you up and torture you. I bet your mom even locked you up for being so weird." Thomas's laughter was caught off by a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw JJ with fire in her eyes. "Why, hello--" He was violently cut off by JJ's fist slamming into his face. He dropped like a rock.

"Asshole!" She muttered, shaking out her hand.

"JJ, that was very unnecessary. It will just egg him on, me needing a girl to fight my battles for me. Not that I don't appreciate it. Cause I do. Very much so." Spencer said as Gideon came over.

"Spence, he had no right to talk to you the way he did. and he certainly had no right bringing your mother into this. He is extremely lucky, I was here and not Morgan. He'd probably kill him." JJ was stilled visibly angry, blue eyes snapping dangerously.

"JJ. I agree, you shouldn't have done that but a bully is a bully." Gideon commented. Spencer groaned, frustration apparent.

"you guys act like I never had to face a bully before. Brains over brawn. He will just use this against me in further altercations. Eventually we would leave and he would be another jerk in a long line of jerks. Now, can we get back to the case? I have something on interest. And we may have the beginnings to a profile." Spencer stood up and swayed right then left before settling. "Are the others back yet? Cause I could do with a quick walk around the block."

"Go ahead. Just come back soon. They should be here any moment." JJ said. She rubbed her eyes as he left, they felt dry and gritty.

"Jennifer, Thank you. We couldn't do this without you. I hope we get another woman on the team. It isn't fair to you." Gideon said. JJ nodded and left to deal with some stubborn journalists. "Definitely, cause no one could handle my job better than me." she tossed over her shoulder. Gideon smiled at her back.

Gideon stared at the timeline board they were putting together. 'What if his signature, is there isn't one? Obviously the initials are part of it, but what if it went deeper?'

"Hey, gang. we're back? Any progress? let's regroup and maybe we can give something to the press." Hotch and Morgan came in shaking out umbrellas in the entrance. "Hey, it's raining out." Morgan's remark was met with tense chuckles. The duo then noticed the unconscious officer on the floor. "Whoa! what happened here? where is JJ? or Reid for that matter?" Morgan was on edge, something happened-something physical-and he wasn't here to protect Spencer.

"He came out for a nap and then the asshole on the floor was making comments about him and his mom. So I punched him in the jaw. Spencer then left for a walk...in the rain apparently.' JJ said.

"Was it Thomas again? and you knocked him out? Good job." Morgan knew his praise fell short. He was more worried about his best friend. 'Maybe I should have stayed here. this never would have happened if I had stayed'

"Glass jaw, I guess?" JJ said shrugging. "Spence should be back anytime now. He said just around the block." Just then they heard a light commotion at the entrance behind them.

"Hey Morgan, Hotch. It's raining. Pretty hard. Anyone have some spare clothes until mine dry? My go-bag is at the hotel. Last time I underestimate Portland weather." Spencer stood there awkwardly hugging himself. He was drenched to the bone. His clothes sticking to his skin, hair laying thick on his head, water dripping from his face down his neck.

"Come on, Pretty Boy. Or should I call you 'drowned rat'? I have some sweats with me." Morgan grabbed his bag and riffled through it, upon finding the clothes he thrust them at Spencer. He only glanced at his friend-unable to handle his wet lashes or large rain washed brown eyes. Reid flashed a smile and hurried off to go change.

Spencer changed as fast has he could, silently thanking the person who had handed over a towel without question. With one look to the mirror above the sink-felt his heart stop. The concealer on his neck wasn't geared for pacific northwest rains or fabric rubbing on it while wet. It was patchy. Patchy enough to determine what his Soul-mark is. He couldn't breathe.

"Spence? You good?" JJ's voice came through the door.

"JJ! Get in here. Now!" Spencer hissed, panic clear in his voice.

"What's wrong!" JJ hurried into the restroom, paying no attention to the men's sign on the door.

"In my satchel, is some concealer. Can you get it? I don't care how." Spencer was pale and nervous. Opposite of the Spencer that had entered the restroom a few moments ago. He spoke fast and gestured erratically.

"Spence? What in the world do you need-" JJ cut herself off-seeing the swirly sun on the right side of his neck, standing out from his pale skin like a beacon. The same mark Derek Morgan wore with pride. "Doctor Spencer Reid! Why didn't you tell me? Or Penelope? Why are you hiding this?" JJ was furious. Her hands were shaking, her lips quivering. He was hiding his matching Soul-mark from Derek; the only one to ever totally accept Spencer quirks and all.

"I can't explain now. I will later when I have more time. I promise. Just, you can't tell anyone. Please, JJ, I need a little longer." Spencer plead. JJ huffed in anger.

"Fine. But I am still very angry at you. and disappointed. I thought you understood how important soulmates are. I'll go get your concealer." JJ talked off. She returned a ew minutes later with a grocery bag and his satchel. While Spencer reapplied his make-up, JJ stuffed his wet clothes in the plastic bag. Spencer combed his hair into a manageable mane. JJ looked at the young doctor who looked lost and adrift-because of the clothes a few sizes too big or her knowing his secret she didn't know.

"Let me help." She noticed he had tied the drawstring already. She took a hair-tie and tied the waistband off.

"Thanks, Jen." Spencer walked out trying to hold on to what little dignity he still had. He looked like a boy wearing his dad's clothes.

Morgan looked and saw how his clothes absolutely swallowed the young genius. Morgan felt a strong urge of possessiveness at the sight of his shirt sitting not quite right on Reid's shoulders. Morgan shook himself, trying to bring his focus back on the case.

"Are we ready? Let's go over some new developments. Reid you seemed most eager earlier." Hotch gestured for him to begin." All the correspondence says variations of the same thing: Religious Revolution. The state the day, time, place, some minutes from the previous meeting and the tentative agenda for the next one. I translated everything. The first one to go and die was Leo. They discussed how the universe came about. How it wasn't the work of one God, but deities, and a mix of science and magic. This whole thing seemed to start about two months before Leo's death. That we know of." Spencer stood up. "The map-it has nothing to do with math or numbers or patterns. But based off data, the UnSub is at least in Portland. This is almost like a specific image. He has to be native to know all this locations." Spencer sat back down.

"We know from the timeline he dumps on Sundays, highly considered the day of rest in most religions. Sometimes he dumps Saturdays. He M.O. is the difference in murders. He is trying to achieve something, a mission or task in his fantasy. we have to be aware that he may not be the mind behind all this. He could be the follower. or the coerced, or multiple personality disorder, or schizophrenia, even an inability to cope." Gideon explained.

"So we have a profile?" JJ asked."

"We have a very basic profile. It isn't very complete because we don't have enough data. To make a profile we use evidence that is there and also not there, we use the behaviors of the victims to predict another. we may be right. we may be wrong. we believe thus far the UnSub is a male, 20-35 years of age. He will be charismatic, but solitary. He isn't into parties or large crowds. if you would gather a few people though he would definitely be the leader. He is disconnected with reality somehow. On the surfaced he is a functioning member of society. But below the surface is a list of jobs that he was let go from or quit before the 3 year mark. Most were trivial jobs, nothing to mentally intensive. He is intelligent but not very organized from a psychology aspect. He doesn't follow social cues very well, a conversation may start out being philosophical." Gideon informed the police and press.

"The lack of sexual abuse but extreme damage can help us eliminate family. it is hard for someone to be this violent to their family unless they are like a serial killer trying to kill the same person over and over again." Morgan finished.

"Okay, everyone. Thank you. Now go home, get some sleep." Chief Yates dismissed the bullpen. The uniforms didn't hesitate before scattering.

"I am going to check in with the journalist and then head to the hotel." JJ said. She waved at the others before heading over to the chattering crowd.

"We are off to the hotel now. Early to bed and early to rise and all that." Hotch and Gideon headed out the door

"Come on, Pretty Boy, let us go and get some sleep ourselves." Morgan clapped Spencer on the shoulder.

"No, I am good. I think I will stay here for the night and keep working on this. You go on. I will see you later." Reid shrugged off the contact. "Good night." Reid made to head into the room that had been deemed his. Morgan growled with anger.

"Not. Happening. I will drag your ass to the hotel if I have to." Morgan gathered their stuff by the door. He knew from experience that Reid responded better to demands then requests. In situations like these Reid would push himself to the limit and then push himself more. Any threats made would need to be made with intent to carry them out if needed. Morgan walked into Reid's room and grabbed him by the arms. Spencer froze for an instant and then thawed. Just as Morgan knew he would.

"Come on now. We are heading back to the hotel. We are going to shower, maybe eat and certainly sleep. Don't think I haven't noticed you neglecting yourself. It has been like three days at least." Morgan lead unresisting Spencer to the car and then the hotel.

"Spence. Take first shower, I'll do laundry. I know we are both running low." Morgan left to find the floor's laundry machine. Spencer hopped in the shower, using toiletries he brought but taking the complimentary bottles. When Morgan returned it was a clean, damp and still wearing his clothes Spencer Reid. Morgan felt the familiar surge of possessiveness from earlier. He couldn't help but admire the way his clothes seemed to dwarf Spencer, making him look small and protected. 'Is this a new kink of mine? Clothes sharing? Or is it a Spencer Reid thing? Since he is my best friend?' Spencer yawned and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Derek felt a hum of low-level arousal. 'Well, this is a new feeling. Must just be a Spencer Reid thing.'

Spencer got settled on his bed, using low lamp light to read a book. Derek followed his lead and settled down into bed, relaxing in moments, dropping off to a barely awake state in minutes. He could feel his body being manipulated and Reid talking to him but also felt himself losing awareness as well.

"Jeez, Derek. Learn to take better care of yourself. You'll catch a cold, staying on top of the blankets like that." Spencer murmured. Derek wanted to reply, with something like 'Thank you." or 'You know that isn't true.' but nothing came out a Derek succumbed to the heady embrace of sleep.

Spencer stood up and shook his head at his best friend. HE went and finished the laundry. he put it away for them both too, for it seemed that they would be here for a while. Spencer sat on his bed wanting to think over the case but his mind grew hazy, his mouth felt very dry and a headache was building behind his eyes. 'Fine, bed it is then.' That was the last thought Spencer had before tucking himself in and going to bed, falling asleep in seconds.

Previous // Next

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Okay, chapter four is done! Things start moving pretty quickly from here.

#saundrasays #saundraswriting #dr. spencer reid #derek morgan #spencer x derek #spencer reid x derek morgan #Hercules fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #morgreid

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endoftheworldpaul · 4 years

Text

Bright

This is my Pinescone Secret Santa fic, written for @pancake-man hope you enjoy! This follows their prompt soulmates. Always did want to write a soulmate fic!

Check it out on AO3!

Color reference sheet:

Blue- Trust, stability, calm

Pink- tenderness, caring, sympathy

Royal blue - stability, honesty

Beige - dependable, flexible

True love was tricky to understand, especially for a six-year-old. That didn’t stop Dipper Pines from asking every question about that popped into his head about the subject. Why is the world besides his family all gray? Why did Mabel illuminate a room with bright pinks and purples and oranges when all of his classmates remain a monochrome series of grays? Why did kittens glow orange and blue-gray and chocolate brown when the scary dog across the street that barked real loud every time he got close stayed a solid dark gray? ‘Why did’ and ‘how come’ poured from his lips faster than syrup on Mabel’s pancakes and Dipper could see that his parents were getting tired of deflecting his questions.

Finally, they explained that everyone and anything you loved would light up with color for as long as you cared for them, that ancient magic encouraged a love for everything. And that some people would never see a single color in their lives because their hearts grew so cold and angry that no love could ever warm them. They explained that when people who loved each other touched, their skin would light up with a color representing the relationship wherever they touched, and that’s why when momma and dad held hands, they lit up with a soft blue hue.

Dipper found out that Mabel loved everything. She rambled on about the colors of the sky, girls’ hair, and even spiders.

Dipper didn’t love spiders or the sky, but he did love lakes and rivers and trees and funny-looking fish. So he watched documentaries and science shows and learned and absorbed information and slowly, he began to see more and more colors.

When Dipper turned ten and invited his best friends Sam and Caroline to his birthday party at the new arcade, he first learned heartbreak. He knew he loved his friends because he could clearly see Caroline’s dark skin and the bright pink flowers in her hair and the way the blue raspberry lollipops she loved stained her tongue and Sam’s freckles and his blush when Caroline told a joke and the way his brown eyes sparkled when he planned on pranking someone. When Sam handed him the bright green birthday present he brought for Dipper, their hands brushed and nothing happened, no colors, no glowing. At first, he was sad but cheered himself up at the realization that it was likely just that Sam was slower to love people and since Sam and Dipper had only been friends for a few months, that he just was working to get there.

Then, when Caroline grabbed his hand to drag him over to a game with flashing lights and loud music and silly ducks on it and their clasped hands also didn’t glow, Dipper was struck with the fear that something was wrong. He and Caroline had been friends for five years now.

So, when he had the chance, he pretended to go to the bathroom. He followed Sam and Caroline around, weaving between people’s legs and trying to keep track of their conversation.

“—such a nerd!” Caroline giggled.

“Yeah, and he never stops talking! It’s nice that his family lets him go to so many fun places because he drags us along.”

They continued to talk, the topic changing from Dipper to Mabel, calling her names. Right before they were blocked by a particularly tall man, he noticed their colors be replaced by deep grays.

Dipper ran to find Mabel. Mabel hugged him close and Dipper found comfort in the soft pink glow that illuminated their skin where Mabel’s arms wrapped around his arms and neck and how her fingers shined when she wiped away his tears.

After that, Dipper found it harder to love people. Books and nature and games still had prominent colors, but only Mabel and his parents had color. Sometimes, Dipper would look in the mirror and smudges of gray would seep into his skin, hair, eyes. Times like that made him scared. When that happened, the only thing that brought him comfort was the soft rosy pink of Mabel’s hugs.

Over time, Dipper made better friends, met new people, and occasionally developed crushes on pretty girls and nice boys. But very few people ever were brightened by colors.

One said crush was Wirt Palmer, a dorky boy six months his senior. They had met at a sleep-away writing camp and immediately got on like fire on a house. Wirt was soft-spoken but passionate, clumsy yet gorgeous. Wirt was perfect, and Dipper would be damned if he hadn't tried everything to not fall in love with him.

It would be cliche to say Dipper fell in love slowly, and it would be a blatant lie. Three hours after they first shook hands during their introduction to one another, color slammed into Wirt's form. Wirt had quoted Shakespeare, softly mumbling "'Tis the way to call hers exquisite, in question more…" under his breath, the following lines providing a comforting touch, their warmth soaking into Dipper's bones. And then, color. It was as simple as that, but also horribly convoluted and worrying, as Dipper hadn't felt love anew in a year.

But, despite the panic creeping in, he was also comforted by how right it felt to love Wirt. Dipper was also just a teenage boy, and he struggled to differentiate the platonic and romantic affection he felt for his new companion. After all, love came in many forms, and identifying one after so suddenly being overwhelmed by its presence was a feat in and of itself.

So, Dipper kept his feelings to himself, only letting Mabel know that he had made a new friend. As the week progressed and Wirt opened up more, Dipper came to the conclusion that no matter what he felt for this boy, he was certain that he would never feel whole again if not by his side.

And stay he did, at least to the best of his ability. After all, Wirt lived in Massachusetts, the other side of the country from Dipper's home of Piedmont, California. They texted, nigh constantly, and during school breaks they would talk into the early morning hours, night coming to an end before their conversations. Dipper rarely actually saw Wirt, as opposed to just hearing him, seeing his words through a screen. That made it easy to ignore how clear Wirt's colors were, never wavering, never dimming.

The few times he and Wirt were face to face—video chats or the occasional meetup—Dipper could only be amazed by how beautiful Wirt was. Fluffy brown hair and chocolate eyes, tan skin, a big angular nose, all made Dipper's insides warm pleasantly. And the beauty and determination of the colors comforted Dipper. He was reminded that despite being hurt and despite being taken advantage of, he was no less worthy of being surrounded by love than any other person. When he felt close to Wirt—despite the hundreds of miles separating them—he loved himself more.

Sometimes, late at night, after Wirt finally succumbs to the siren call of sleep, Dipper would trace patterns onto his arms, royal blue bleeding through the gaps between his fingers, and feel closest to the old Dipper, the one who loved easily and truly, a part of him he had previously given up on finding again.

Other times, gray would wobble across his body, only lasting mere seconds before returning to its bright hues, and a deep cold would seep into Dipper, down to the bone. On those days, Wirt would be quick to comfort, rambling on about plans for college or a book he had read or a song he was writing. The distractions helped, but Dipper wondered if it was more the words or the person they came from that brought him comfort.

Dipper developed a habit of dedicating a large portion of his free time to conversing with Wirt, whether it be during school or during breaks in between study sessions or talking until midnight. And suddenly, as the end of junior year rolled past and suddenly the bubble of consistency was popped, making way for the stress and panic of searching for colleges.

On more than one occasion, Mabel let Dipper know her opinions on his three-year-long college search, telling him that he has no reason to stress since he had had his favorites narrowed down to a reasonably sized list since the end of last year's winter break. She had known this because, for each day of Hanukkah, Dipper had gotten eight sweatshirts, each proudly advertising the mascot of one of those schools. Mabel had five of those same colleges on her list, she also had half of the colleges on the west coast on that very same list, so the overlap didn't surprise Dipper.

His biggest confidant for his college prep fears was Wirt. They both discussed the pros and cons of each school, their interests overlapping enough that the most appealing colleges for one often intrigue the other as well.

And as the season for college applications neared, Dipper noticed Wirt often finding nitpicky reasons to dislike any school that Dipper wasn't applying to. It was almost as if Wirt couldn't bear the thought of consciously choosing to not be closer to Dipper. At first, Dipper brushed thoughts like that aside, but as Wirt steadfastly continued rebuffing schools he had previously fawned over, Dipper reconsidered his behavior. It was relieving to think that maybe, just maybe, Wirt would finally be within arms reach, for the first time since the summer before their sophomore year.

Their last year of high school passed much the same as the previous two, worrying about grades, studying, preparing for college, and talking. Then, spring came and brought with it college responses. With his grades, test scores, and essays, Dipper managed to get accepted into some high ranking colleges, but he was most happy that Wirt had gotten accepted to three of the same colleges that Dipper had, one of which was highly favored by both. They video chatted that might, gushing over each others’ successes and happily imagining what the first year of college might be like.

Wirt wasn’t a fan of cold weather and Dipper hated temperatures over 80 degrees, so they settled on a college in a warmer state, with just enough of an elevation to limit how hot the summers would be.

As his final summer break before college finally began and the stress of finals started to abate, Dipper began packing for the drive to his new campus. Sadly, Mabel hadn’t applied to that college, but she had gotten accepted to one that was only a few hours’ drive away, so visits would be frequent. Freshmen had assigned dorms on campus with a roommate exam matching each person to one or two others, so Dipper had prepared a few different scripts to use, one for a cool roommate, one for a boring roommate, one for a douchey roommate, and one for an absent roommate, all color-coordinated. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing to the person he would be rooming with for the next two years, minimum.

A few days later, he and Mabel had shoved their luggage into the trunk of Dipper’s car and were in the midst of saying goodbye to their parents for the eighteenth time. Mabel had refused to get a driver’s license, quoting studies about the damage driving has on the environment and human health, so Dipper would drive her to her campus, where she would rely on the college’s free bus system to get where she needed.

The drive would take a day so they stopped at a hotel halfway there. Since Dipper had driven and was therefore too busy to talk to Wirt, he spent the next two hours chatting with Wirt about tourist traps he has driven past, the whole time trying to tune out Mabel’s loud getting-ready-for-bed-one-woman-performance.

Wirt said that he was already at his dorm and that his roommate, singular, had yet to arrive. He then sent an invite for a video chat and, when Dipper accepted, gave him a shaky but descriptive tour of his half of the large suite. There were five rooms: a living room, two bedrooms, each with personal bathrooms, and a small kitchen. The kitchen had a stove, a small fridge, and a microwave. Dipper also noticed a small kettle, covered in stickers.

Wirt babbled on about how nervous he was to meet his roommate and for classes to start, only stopping when Mabel burst from the bathroom to fill the room Dipper was in with her loud and only slightly off-key singing.

“Oh hi, Wirt!” She shouted at the laptop, receiving a shocked greeting from Wirt in return. Shortly after the disruption, Wirt yawned, his jaw popping at the exertion. Dipper said goodnight and not long after he and Mabel were out cold.

When he dropped Mabel off, she gripped him tightly and whispered “Go get him, tiger. He’s gonna love you, if he doesn’t already.” Her words were comforting, if not surprising, and he focused on the gentle pink lighting up around the points of contact to distract from the tears that wanted to escape.

Her words echoed in his brain as he sped down the highway, stealing any semblance of extra focus that he would have had otherwise.

As Dipper hauled his suitcase down the hallway, pausing a second to glance down at his phone to double-check what room he’s heading to. As he does, he hears a soft voice muttering what sounds like poetry escape the open door a few rooms ahead of him.

“I falter, for the sight of you stops my breath, and gaze at the light that is you. Instantly, color fills my world, as there is no life where I do not love you.” Dipper creeps closer, not wanting the speaker to stop. “I stumble around blindly, looking for your guiding light, for when you are not around the world is dark. Now I stand, gazing upon a—” the speaker cuts off as Dipper lets out a gasp.

In the room, Dipper’s room, Wirt stands, dressed in a pale yellow sweater and old blue jeans, and stares at Dipper before stuttering a rushed “Dipper! What, what are you doing here? I didn’t tell you my room did I?”

Dipper let out a breathy chuckle. “Wirt, this is my room. I… it seems like we might be roommates. I, what was that that you were reading? Who was it for?” Wirt’s Face burned bright red and the heat of Dipper’s own cheeks told him that he was blushing just as hard.

“It was…” He trailed off, the answer whispered into his hands, which had crept up to cover his face. He peeked through a gap in his fingers and followed Dipper as he took a slow step forward. He dropped his hands, took a deep breath, and blurted out “It was for you! I wrote it for you because I love you!” He pauses. “I love you,” he muttered, softer this time.

Dipper closes the distance between them, shakily stretching out a hand and pausing just inches from Wirt’s face. Wirt takes the initiative and leans into his palm. Instantly, the points of contact light up a soft beige, but Dipper focused on the beige pouring from Wirt’s chest, illuminating the shape of his heart.

“Oh boy. That’s a, that’s a soulmark.” Wirt must notice the confused furrow of Dipper’s brow because he continues. “It’s a super rare thing that happens only when people love each other purely and like initiate purposeful contact with each other or something. There’s like twenty cases of this happening in the last four decades.”

Dipper felt his blush spread down his neck. “We’re just that special, I guess. If you couldn’t guess, I love you too, Wirt. I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met.” Dipper looked into Wirt’s eyes, filled with comfort by the pure love held in the brown depths. His other hand met Wirt’s cheek and the beige hue brightened.

Dipper knew then and there that he would move heaven and earth to keep Wirt’s love close by, would fight the world if it meant making him happy.

#pinescone #pinescone Secret santa #my writing #Dipper Pines #otgw Wirt #gf #otgw #I am like super proud of this?#I think if school hadn't taken up a lot of my time before this i would have written like twice as much but its 2.7k #which is a good size i think

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littlejeanniebean · 4 years

Text

peter parker goes to marvel high (normal mcu au)

A/N: Peter’s first day of high school ft. Shuri, Mr. Stark, Mr. Loki, and co. ~1700 words teenaged angst then fluff. More Peter x Shuri in my masterlist :)

Heavily inspired by this post by @spellbounding-slytherin

I’m also a big fan of @tinymintywolf‘s art :))

- J xx

Fact: Peter Parker was a nervous wreck. May, ever the optimist, had patted his cheeks, kicked him out of the car, and told him to have a good day. Peter had never had a good first day of school. He was smart but had a severe attention deficit, so even his teachers never liked him. His one best friend throughout junior high, Ned Leeds, had moved to New Jersey, so he would probably end up eating alone in some empty classroom just to be safe. And he’d met the principal at orientation last Friday. He had an eye patch and a perpetual frown, used to head up the corrections department for youth offenders. So yeah, high school was going to suck big time.

“Move it, dickwad,” one of the larger boys shoved past him at the door to his homeroom.

Peter strategically chose a seat in the ambiguous, unnoticeable middle.

A short, bright-eyed girl marched up to him, “You’re in my seat.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” he tried to pick up his backpack but the strap was caught on the leg of his chair, so he just kind of ended up spilling himself over the floor.

“Crap, I was just messing with you, kid,” she helped him up, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he just sort of stood there awkwardly, not meeting her eyes.

“Dude, you gotta stop apologizing. I’m sorry, okay?” she tried to get him to look at her, “I’m Shuri. I have a messed up sense of humour that scares away any friends I might’ve ended up having. Is it cool if I sit next to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, “I’m Perker Pat - Parker Pete - Peter Parker.”

“Cool.”

“Dude, you are sad,” the boy who shoved him coming into the room twirled an expensive-looking pen, sparing him the most derisive of sideways glances.

Peter was saved from actually having to come up with a response when their teacher walked in two-minutes after the bell and put his feet up on his desk, “Okay, kiddies. My name is Mr. Stark, you may call me Mr. Stark. I am your homeroom teacher unless you’re in the wrong room. I also teach AP Math and Computer Science. If you have questions at this point, I honestly wonder how you got this far in life, but I’m obligated to ask.”

The room was silent.

“Great, do whatever until the bell rings, I guess.”

The class emptied out.

Peter hung back, “M-Mr. Stark?”

“Yes, Proton.”

“I-it’s Peter, actually.”

“I was talking about your t-shirt.”

“I - Oh, yeah,” he looked down at the “I’m positive” joke print, “um… I just wanted to let you know that I have ADHD, mostly the AD part a-and I don’t expect any special treatment or anything and I’ll work really hard, but I also wanted to join Mathletes and I wasn’t allowed in junior high because I’d always get sidetracked at the meets but I think I can do better now if you’ll give me the chance… butifnotthat’sokay.”

Mr. Stark appraised him, “First meeting is in this room at three.”

“Thank you, sir!” he smiled, but when his teacher didn’t smile back, he fixed his face and walked to his next period.

“I’m Mr. Banner, and there are three things you need to remember if you want to succeed in biochemistry. One: If you’re unsure but proceed without asking for clarification first, I will be angry. Two: If you show up to the lab without completing the prior work assigned, I will be angry. Three: If you do not share work between your lab partners equally, I will be angry. Don’t make me angry.”

“Wanna be lab partners?” Shuri asked.

“Sure,” Peter squeaked and cleared his throat.

“You’re not going to break a test tube on me, are you?”

He shook his head quickly.

“You’re a lot of work, Peter Parker, but it’s kind of adorable.”

“Um… thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Now hand me that pipette and fire up the spectrophotometer.”

The last period before lunch was P.E.

“I’m Coach Barton, that’s all you need to know. Let’s do a few warm up laps around the circuit.”

Peter ran hard and was close to fainting as he crossed the line in the middle of the pack.

“Woah, kid, you need to go to the nurse’s?” Coach singled him out.

He tried to say ‘no’ but no sound would come out, so he just shook his head, gasping. He could hear the other boys snickering beyond the pounding of his blood in his brain.

“I think you need to go to the nurse’s,” Coach beckoned to the boy who’d crossed the line first, “Flash, take him to the clinic, would ya?”

“Yes, sir,” the bully from his homeroom smirked at him.

As soon as they were out of the gym, he jostled and picked at the smaller boy only to exhibit the epitome of sympathy in front of Nurse Man-Ti.

“Here, drink some electrolytes,” she told him and he finished the small bottle in under a minute.

As soon as Flash was gone, Peter let himself just cry. He wished his aunt would just homeschool him, but it’s been hard since his uncle died and in the face of that, Peter felt bad for feeling bad about his little problems and that made him cry some more.

“Hey,” the nurse sat beside him quietly, “Peter, right?”

He nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“What for? Better out than in, that’s what I always say.”

Peter sniffed.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or make an appointment with Counsellor Barnes?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I just needed, uh… electrolytes,” he leaves quickly after that.

Peter goes to his locker for his bag and clothes, red eyes trained on the floor so that hopefully nobody notices. He doesn’t notice Shuri arguing with Flash, gesturing forcefully back at his locker. Flash sees him put in his combination and open the door, a cheshire grin spreading across his face.

“Peter!” Shuri tries to warn him, “Don’t -”

But it’s too late and he’s covered in silly string, a few old socks found decomposing in the gym lockers, and the contents of a bathroom trash can.

“I’m gonna go change,” he whispers to no one in particular.

“I’ll save you a place at lunch?” Shuri called after him.

Peter stops in his tracks to shoot her a grateful smile, “Thank you.”

Mr. Thor Odinson was a very loud history teacher, but it worked well for keeping Peter’s attention throughout the class, so he was able to answer all the review questions.

“Teacher’s pet,” Flash scoffed at the sound of the bell.

“Dumbass,” Shuri fake-coughed and pulled Peter to the auditorium.

“I’m Mr. Loki Odinson, you may call me Mr. Loki to distinguish between myself and my hard-of-hearing brother, Thor,” said their quieter drama teacher, “Thompson, if you kick Parker’s chair one more time, I will send you to Fury’s office with no note, no explanation. And he has a very specific way of dealing with those cases.”

Flash stopped and sat straighter.

“Good, Parker, you seem suitably nervous. Come up here and help me demonstrate a quick improvisation exercise.”

Peter tripped on his way down the aisle to the stage, but kept going.

“Now, you’re a superhero and I’m a supervillain. You’re trying to turn me over to the good side, but we can only converse alphabetically. So you must start with the letter ‘A’, I must start with the letter ‘B’ and so forth. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Ah, ah, first rule of improv: the answer is always, ‘Yes, and…’ Let’s go, Parker. You’re brave. You’re bold. You’re a hero.”

“Alright, Mr. Villain, you have two choices,” Peter surprised himself at how his voice carried. It must be the way the auditorium was built, “perish, or join our fight.”

“Blech, I choose to perish,” Mr. Loki dropped to his knees, “C’mon Hero, end me if you have the guts at all.”

“Come on, you know you never wanted to watch the city burn to begin with. The hive possessed you, used you. Now, you have the chance to redeem yourself.”

“Don’t presume to know me because you can’t possibly. You don’t know what I’ve been through. What I’ve lost!”

“Everything,” Peter said quietly, “Everyone you ever cared for. I do know… because so have I. We’re not so different.”

“Fighting the hive is a losing proposition. You have nothing that could work against them!”

“Gas. Even a million eyes are no good in a fog.”

“Huh… I never thought of that. I’ll join your fight, Hero if you’ll let me,” Mr. Loki proffered his “bound” wrists.

“I knew there was some good left in you, Mr. Villain,” Peter “unlocked” the “restraints.”

Mr. Loki mimed holding a knife to Peter’s neck, “Just not that much, I’m afraid. Hive Mother! I’ve got him! I’ve got the hero! Now release my family from the void as you promised!”

Peter wracked his brain from the next letter. The plot twist didn’t help him think either. “... Krap with a ‘k’?”

Mr. Loki broke character and laughed before clapping and shaking his student’s hand, “That was the most interesting improv demonstration I’ve had in awhile, Parker. You’re a natural. Now everyone pair off and try to top that performance if you can!”

English with Mr. Rogers was the last period of the day. He didn’t look up from his book until everyone was seated, silent, and had their eyes up front. It took a crazy long time and a good deal of organization and yelling on Shuri’s part.

“Sorry, guys, I was reading a book about anti-gravity. It's impossible to put down!” he joked.

Peter was the only one who laughed.

After giving a bit of a lecture on respect for their instructors, valuing their education, and how much they were going to love English this year, he let them go early.

“Okay, I’m calling you three Alvin, Simon, and Theodore from now on,” Mr. Stark addressed his small Mathlete gathering, “Our new mascot is a chipmunk, I don’t care that all our other teams are Rocket Raccoons.”

“Which one of us is Alvin?” Shuri asked.

“Since you asked, you are. Fancy-Pen is Simon and Proton is Theodore. Now, we have a competition to prepare for in… ages from now, so… drill, I guess? I don’t know. Who wants to do Euclidean algorithms?”

Three hands went up.

“Nice,” he brought out his expensive Japanese chalk, a gift from his wife, the well-known Fortune 500 CEO, Pepper Potts.

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sonicfanj · 4 years

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I’m a big fan of AUs and the freedom that fans have to explore Sonic or any fandom in ways that diverge from the source material, but with AUs and more recent Sonic stuff being what a lot of new fans brought in from the movie will see, the possibility of providing false information is far to high if we are not careful. That SEGA also spreads misinformation only makes matter worse and it is the heart of this particular post.

One of the biggest misconceptions of Sonic that SEGA perpetrates both through retcons and from Sonic Generations onward is that Sonic before the Sonic Adventure (Adventure henceforth )rebranding back in 1998/1999 is that “Classic Sonic “ as he is dubbed these days is possessed of an age of around eleven and is even shorter than Sonic’s 1 meter/3′3″ height. The height can actually be sourced to a profile of Metal Sonic’s that lists him at around seventy something centimeters as well as Generations making him shorter to account for the difference in proportions. But the truth is, Sonic was always listed at 1 meter tall, both before and after the Adventure redesign.

[Character height chart for reference - http://info.sonicretro.org/images/9/99/Classic_character_heights.svg]

Age on the other hand is where things get really strange. Again, a retcon for Generations makes sense to an extent, especially when you consider that the characters had their ages shuffled around as it was with the Adventure redesign. Amy aged up from 8 to 12 and Knuckles aged up from 15 to 16. Tails remained the same but Sonic actually received a subtle change. Bios that listed Sonic’s age before Adventure typically listed him at 15 to 16 years old. That would actually make him the same age or older than his Adventure onward counterpart. But it gets even weirder. According to the Sonic Technical Files (currently hosted by Sonnic Fansite Sonic Retro here - http://info.sonicretro.org/Original_Story) Sonic was actually originally thought about to be even older, around 18 years old. Suddenly, Sonic from his typically dubbed Classic Era is actually definitively older than his modern counterpart, yet is portrayed as a younger bubbly child from Sonic Generations onward. And I assure you, this is a retcon.

If you grew up in the 90s like I did and were introduced to Sonic when he debuted back in 1991, then you will remember the western advertising over embracing his teenager with an attitude description. And it wasn’t just in game ads, it was in all Sonic media available in the west. The US cartoons, the Archie and Fleetway comics, and so on, portrayed Sonic as an uppity teenager with an attitude problem (some cases being far worse than others). That teenager of a high school age mentality was the backbone for why the Archie Sonic comics were littered with teenager romance drama, which would look rather distasteful if you think about it post retcons now. But they were not at fault for portraying Sonic based on being high school age. The material and information they were provided told them as such and so they based their interpretations off of that available information.

But it wasn’t just a western mistake either. If not for input from key members of SEGA of America (henceforth SoA) Sonic would be rather different and would even have had a human girlfriend by the name of Madona who was anything but a child.

[Pic here - https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/sonic/images/d/dc/Madonna.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20090313035151]

Madonna was not the only time it happened either as one of the last pieces of pre-Adventure release Classic Sonic material is the Sonic OVA or Movie produced by Japanese animation studio Studio Peirrot where a catgirl (read human girl with cat ears and a tail) was the main love interest and whom even Eggman/Robotnik wanted to marry (it’s weird, I don’t argue that). But more importantly, two of Sonic’s primary creators, Yuji Naka and Naoto Oshima, were listed as Production Directors for the two episode Original Video Animation (OVA) and were rumored to be involved quite a bit with the film. You can typically find it on youtube though I recomend the subbed version, bad video quality and all, to get a better representation of the Japanese perspective. It’s really eye opening and was very nostalgic in when I first watched it post Sonic Generations release.

The thing is though, the OVA released in 1996, years before the Adventure rebranding, and is strongly believed to be how Naka and Oshima see the character. This is actually reflected in the Sonic Adventure redesign as Yuji Naka on record (a shame I can’t find the link) has stated that Sonic was redesigned to bring him closer to the original character idea and to erase the growing cute identity that he was developing due to marketing. He even goes on to say that Sonic was never intended to be cute and that being a cute mascot character would inevitably pit him against Hello Kitty which would not have ended well. Yet, SEGA retconned the Naka/Oshima Sonic into being a bubbly hyperactive kid who was much shorter and generally hyper cute compared to his more modern interpretation of the character. This retcon is only made even more complicated when SEGA decided they didn’t like their “New” Classic Sonic being treated as the same character as their Legacy Sonic and even retconned that come Sonic Forces to say that he was actually from a different dimension. Years after Sonic Forces release that decision still riles up many more dedicated fans as it breaks the series continuity. Arguably, it has too. After all, if Naka/Oshima Sonic is older than Legacy/Modern Sonic and has the same height yet New Classic Sonic is shorter and strangely mute then something had to be changed or it just starts to fall apart for a cohesive narrative. Of course Amy’s four year gain already threw things into question but on it’s own was fairly harmless considering her role in the franchise as the main female lead and primary love interest. But New Classic Sonic’s muteness is what this post will be carrying on from.

One of the biggest misconceptions of Sonic before the Adventure redesign is that he did not speak. The primary reason for this misconception I usually attributed to him not speaking in the classics. this is actually a false statement as Sonic speaks in Sonic the Hedgehog CD, SegaSonic the Hedgehog, and is quite the chatterbox in a Japanese only popcorn machine. Admittedly, these are all difficult to experience items, especially pre-Adventure, but by the time of Soinc Generations’ release a good deal of these could be researched and Sonic CD was readily available to the public again thanks in no small part to Christian Whitehead of Evening Star Studios. but even outside of the games SOnic was shown to talk quite a bit before the Adventure redesign. Again both the western comics and cartoons and even numerous Japanese comics all showed him speaking quite a bit before the Adventure redesign. Of a more canonical nature however, the Japanese instruction manuals for most of the games from the original onward will show Sonic talking.

So, where did this misconception gain enough steam to become a retcon? It’s hard to say, but there are a lot factors that could lead to it. Major fan backlash was threatened when Generations was first revealed if they got Sonic’s voice wrong and hat it’d be better if he didn’t talk at all. SEGA is known for overreacting to negative feedback at odd and seemingly random times and this appears to me to be yet another case of it. But his muteness only got weirder when people started latching on to him being mute as a matter of shyness. I don’t know where that one originated from, but Sonic’s shyness is actually a trait of his, but it is specifically tied to how he feels about his self-proclaimed Amy Rose. When asked about, Yuji Naka once said that Sonic does likely like Amy deep down, but is too shy to act on those feelings. Naoto Oshima expands further on that stating that Sonic has a boyish immaturity in regards to his feelings and thus won’t act on them but should he mature in that regard he would end up with Amy. In other words, boyish immaturity and shyness are part of Sonic’s character, but they only reflect on certain facets of his character. His shyness and immaturity of his feelings for Amy though were instead stretched out to cover most of his character resulting in New Classic Sonic being a mute, when Naka/Oshima, Legacy/Modern, BOOM! (just to throw in another iteration where he is shy about his feelings for Amy), and even Movie Sonic are all rather talkative.

So that there is three misconceptions about pre-Adventure Sonic that are perpetuated officially by New Classic Sonic effectively being placed over Naka/Oshima Sonic. Again, I don’t aim to bash fanfics and AUs as I love them and the way they explore the characters in new ways, but for the sake of new fans not being overly confused, it should be noted if your Classic Sonic is New or Generations based, or the Naka/Oshima, pre-Adventure version. There are hugely massive differences between them with things like height, age, and talkativeness being hugely noticeable. Otherwise, keep writing, drawing and having fun, and may all of the movie’s fans who find their way into the fanbase enjoy themselves

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic misconceptions #misconceptions born of retcons #misconceptions #retcons #Naka/Oshima Sonic #legacy/modern sonic #boom! sonic #movie sonic #long post #long rant #thoughts #my thoughts #clarification

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clumsydarknut · 5 years

Text

Scripted Wishes

Chapter 1: Salamander

Beginning (That’s this! Hi!) | Next | Most Recent

Lucy sighed contentedly. Students shuffled around her, exuberantly seeking out old friends or meandering up the steps to the front of Magnolia High. The front patio of the school, lined with well-kept foliage and comfortable wooden benches, was bustling with the excitement of the new school year. A hint of anxiety clenched at her throat, but as she gazed up at the majestic statue before her she was able to shove it away. She glowed as she read the banner strung between the two large wings of the stone mascot:

Welcome to Magnolia High School

Home of the Dragons

Let’s make it a good year!

She was here. At a real school! Not that her previous educational program hadn’t been, but it lacked the most important thing any school should have: a theatre department. Private academies like those she had attended her whole life rarely fostered anything as rowdy as a theatre program. Konzern Academy had some great things, she’d admit – they were top-notch when it came to academics, and they were the only secondary school in the whole of Fiore to boast a fully-fledged Astronomy program – but the school lacked something incredibly important. Some called it heart. Some called it imagination. And Lucy called it a theatre department.

Lucy flipped out her smartphone and turned on the internal camera, checking to make sure her ponytail was still sitting just right. She smiled giddily, jogging in place momentarily whilst trying (and failing) to contain a squeal. She had intended to come the previous school year when she turned sixteen and could legally move out and away from her father, but it took more work and more saving to build up the funds to afford it than she could do as a fifteen-year-old. After turning sixteen she was able to find work and saved every penny of her tiny, part-time paychecks until she could afford a few months rent somewhere in Magnolia City. Her father certainly wasn’t happy about her working jobs behind his back, and she could only imagine how much less happy he was the morning he discovered she wasn’t on the estate anymore, but at least he hadn’t come interfering as of yet.

Anxiety gripped her throat again. She hadn’t heard anything from him – no calls, no texts, and no limos to drag her back to the estate. It was somewhat concerning. But, determined to enjoy herself, she swallowed down the knot in her throat and rushed past the dragon monument into the building.

The main lobby was cool and bright, despite the massive number of people scattered about in clumps. The variety in tastes and personalities was quite apparent from a single glance. There were no uniforms. She had hated the dress code at Konzern Academy. It left no room for individualization, and even though she looked fantastic in her school shirt, she wanted to wear cute clothes intentionally rather than by obligation. Like she could do here. Like she was currently doing. She had specially picked this outfit. She wore a nicely fitted light yellow blouse hanging loose over a thigh-length black skirt to really accentuate her petite structure. Around her ponytail was tied a large black bow, and she had splurged a bit to pick out some cheap black jewelry just for today. She was so excited about being herself that she even took the time to lace her black boots with yellow laces to complete the look. Seeing all the other variety in the room made her feel right at home as she was dressed, and she liked it.

It’s so different, she thought, weaving between groups. It still feels like high school, but there’s so much more energy. She snuck her way between a group of darkly clad metalheads and a group of bubbly freshmen to the main office.

“Excuse me?” she said, drawing the attention of the secretary.

“Ah, Lucy!” the woman replied, “I assume you’re here about your schedule adjustments?”

Lucy smiled and nodded.

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” the woman continued, “We were able to transfer all of your credits from Konzern Academy, so you are right on track for graduation.”

“Yes!” Lucy exclaimed, pumping her fist. That was the first step to the theatre department: not having to take extra classes to make up for non-transferrable credits.

“However,” she interjected, “ while we were able to replace one of your make-up classes with the Japanese course you requested, we can’t immediately add you to the Theatre course.”

Lucy’s heart sank, but before she could ask why the woman smiled brightly and a flicker of hope returned.

“Because the upper-level drama courses are audition only, we can’t override this and enroll you from the office. But if you take this sheet and have Director Dreyar sign here-“ she pointed, “and here-“ pointing again, “we can fit it perfectly into the gap in your schedule.”

Lucy couldn’t believe how smoothly this was working out. Taking the form, she paused and asked, “He can just sign this without me auditioning?”

“Oh sure honey,” the woman responded, “From what I understand, you don’t need to audition to be a part of the crew or the pit orchestra, but the system has them all lumped under one class that requires director approval. If you still want to perform you can set up an audition for next semester, but I can tell you’re itching to sink your teeth into this business.” She winked at Lucy, triggering all sorts of excited bubbles in her stomach. Lucy was used to getting special attention from people because of her family name, but it had always felt cold and obligatory. This secretary – despite Lucy not knowing her name – had gone above and beyond, and not for any reason but a love for the students at the school. That warmness was a nice change from the superficial motions she had grown accustomed to.

“Thank you sooooo much!” she squealed.

“My pleasure, hon!” she chimed, “Oh, and Lucy…”

“Yes ma’am?”

“We’ve already spoken with your instructors. They’ve all agreed not to call out your last name when taking roll.”

Lucy gasped. “That’s really okay?”

“Perfectly okay. The faculty were very understanding of your wish to conceal that.” She snickered and continued, “It’s certainly more reasonable than when a student asked the whole faculty to call her Daphne instead of her real name in order to pull an April Fool’s joke 7 months later.” Lucy burst out laughing.

“Yes, it was quite the year,” the secretary giggled, “but if we learned anything from that experience, it’s that it would certainly help the faculty to fulfill your request if you gently reminded them before class for the first couple weeks.

“That’s totally understandable,” Lucy replied, smiling and nodding. “I’ll be sure to do so.”

“Alright, honey, if you need anything else we’re always happy to help. Just get us that form back by Wednesday and you’ll be all good to go.”

Lucy smiled and left with a cheerful thank you. She returned to the lobby just in time to hear the intercom crackle.

“WELCOME BACK DRAGONS! I hope it’s been a good summer break! We will now begin our Welcome Assembly! Please make your way to the auditorium! …and this assembly is mandatory for students and faculty!”

Lucy couldn’t help but giggle at the announcement. A line like that would never have graced the halls of Konzern Academy. She liked it here already.

The auditorium finally began to settle down as the principal took the stage. Lucy had found a seat near the sound booth, scrunched between a burly white-haired senior and a particularly animated freshman girl. She had picked this seat hoping to take a good look at the sound and lights equipment, but the fact that every student in every seat had their bags left little room for looking around. As the principal began his remarks, she couldn’t help but hear the whispered conversation of the freshman and her friends.

“Did you really meet him?”

“What was he like?”

“I can’t even-!”

Who could they be talking about?

“I want to see him!”

“Maybe we can catch him outside after the assembly?!”

“I can’t believe Salamander goes here!”

Lucy blinked.

“My sister was talking about his fire tricks at last year’s talent show!”

“I hear he does special effects too!”

Lucy had heard that name. Where had she heard it?

“He’s definitely the hottest guy in the drama club- get it? Hottest? Because he does fire tricks?”

“Ughhhhh don’t make stupid puns Cass!”

There it was! The school’s Instagram had tagged a Salamander in a lot of their posts about the drama club! She had seen it on occasion and wondered who in the world managed to get the username Salamander without attaching any extra symbols or numbers. She hadn’t been following the school Instagram for long and she’d never bothered to watch any of the video posts – perhaps she would have to later. For now, though, this seemed to be a great stroke of luck. If he was part of the theatre department, he could probably introduce her to Director Dreyar. She could just follow those girls after the assembly when the lunch break started, and they’d lead her right to a known member of the club she was after.

She smiled and leaned back in content – as much as she could lean back anyway. Trying to get comfortable in the cramped space was quite difficult. She directed her attention away from the chatty girls and back to the stage, where the assistant principal was now speaking about general rules and regulations.

“…and remember,” the gruff man continued, “The dress code is in effect from the moment the doors are unlocked until the dismissal bell rings. If you’re intending to wear something against the dress code to your extracurriculars, it had better be covered until then. Thespians, I’m looking at you.”

Most of the upperclassmen laughed at the quip, and Lucy faintly heard “My armor didn’t even show any skin! How was that against the dress code?!” from somewhere down near the stage.

She had definitely picked the right school. As the assembly continued there were many casual quips directed at a huge variety of different clubs and departments, and the relaxed interactions were completely different from the uptight attitude that permeated Konzern Academy. She was particularly surprised when the Student Body Officers introduced themselves and showed a video they had made specifically for the welcome assembly. The humor and lightheartedness here was refreshing, and as the meeting ended, she couldn’t wait to start classes.

The squeal of the girls next to her when the lights came up called her attention back to her plans. She was going to follow them to Salamander, right? She squeezed out of her seat with her bag, following them down the row, down the stairs, and back out into the lobby. Their sudden, shrill screams let her know that they had found who they were looking for – or at least, a crowd of more freshmen surrounding who she hoped was the Salamander in question.

She maneuvered her way through the mob of underclassmen until she reached the front. Her eyes boggled.

The boy was tall, with dark blue hair and a chiseled jaw. The shape of his face was accented by his mild undercut hairstyle, which left him with delicious sideburns and windswept bangs. Lucy felt her heart quicken as his thin, dark eyebrows drew down and his lips curled up into a smirk. His navy blue blazer and white button-up emphasized his thin but attractive build, and his loose, maroon tie gave his dark eyes an added layer of depth. Forget the fire tricks, this guy was hot. He nonchalantly brushed his bangs to the side, revealing a blue tat above his eye that looked somewhat like two horseshoes stuck together. He’s daring enough to put a tat right on his face? she thought excitedly. That would not have flown at Konzern.

“Oh you’re too kind,” he chuckled, some of the girls squealing and turning pink. He tossed his head, flipping his hair and looking directly at Lucy with a wink.

Lucy felt her breath catch and she turned away, blushing. He noticed me? she thought. Well, I guess I am the only junior in a crowd full of freshmen.

“Oi, Loke!” She felt someone push past her.

The boy was about her age, standing just a few inches taller than herself. He wore a thin but large red jacket and some well-loved black jeans. The jacket was zipped almost all the way, but the mustard-yellow hem of a shirt was still somewhat visible underneath. His sneakers were the same mustard yellow, and around his neck was wrapped a scaly-looking white scarf. He had a black and white backpack slung over his shoulder, his free hand shoved into his jacket pocket. His eyes were black and alert, his grin showing off fang-like canines, and his hair… now that was a surprise. His messy, spiky hair was a pleasant shade of sakura pink.

“Haven’t seen you all summer! How was-“ he cut off abruptly.

Salamander’s smile wavered as he turned toward the newcomer.

“You’re not Loke,” the pinkette grumbled.

“No, but I’m sure that can’t be the only reason you came over here,” Salamander replied smoothly, “but unfortunately you’ll have to wait in line just like the rest of these lovely ladies.” Several girls gasped and cooed.

“What are you talking about?” the boy replied, eyes raising in genuine surprise.

Salamander sighed, “Well, I’ve never gone out with another guy before, but I’m open to trying new things.”

The pinkette’s eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks tinged red as he shouted, “I-I’m not gay! I was literally just looking for a friend.” Lucy’s sudden attraction to the preppy junior diminished when he smirked mockingly.

“Oh that’s too bad,” he sneered, “We could have had lots of fun. But I guess that means more for the ladies.”

The boy grimaced, then retorted, “How are any of them supposed to have fun when you’re wearing that freaky mask? Oh, whoops, I guess that’s just your face.”

Lucy suppressed a giggle, but the crowd of girls was filled with gasps of abhorrence. The dark-haired boy stuttered for a moment, glaring, before cooling off and continuing.

“Well, no matter your hesitance on exploring your true feelings, closet dweller, you’re still invited to my back to school bash tonight,” he smirked, “As are all of you beautiful ladies! I hope to see every one of you there!” Girls cooed and squealed as he turned away and waltzed down the hall. The pink-haired boy glowered for a second, then sighed, rubbing the back of his head. Then, realizing something, he looked right up at Lucy.

Lucy gave a start. She hadn’t moved an inch and the crowd had dissipated, leaving just her and the pinkette, and she was looking right at him. Whoops. Way to make things awkward, Luce.

Snapping back to the present, she said, “Well he’s kind of a jerk, isn’t he?”

The boy’s blank look vanished as he grinned, saying, “Kind of? More like definitely.”

They laughed, the awkwardness vanishing.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, smiling and holding out her hand.

“Natsu,” he replied, shaking it in return. His voice had a rough quality to it, but not so much that “rough” was the right word. It wasn’t as deep as Salamander’s had been, but it had an element of depth that was pleasant to listen to. “You don’t seem the type to get caught in one of those fangirl circles.”

She laughed, “No, but I heard some girls in the auditorium talking about him and I was sort of curious. I’m brand new here, so…”

“Oh really?” he perked up. “Well, welcome to Magnolia!”

“Thanks!” she giggled, continuing, “It’s lunch time now, right? Mind if I sit with you?”

He chuckled, “You’re just asking because I’m the only person you’ve met, huh?”

Lucy’s mouth hung open, a tinge of shock prickling across her face before she drew her eyebrows down in slight annoyance and said, “N-no! How rude, assuming something like that just because I’m new!”

He gave her a sarcastic look.

She gave an irritated scowl. “Okay, you’re right, but I also thought you were kind of cool talking to that preppy jerk! You kind of snapped me out of the initial ‘wow he’s hot’ moment so I could think straight, and that automatically makes you better than him.” She turned away in a false huff. “Jeez, this is what I get for trying to be friendly?”

Natsu laughed out loud, running a hand through his spiked hair. “Well, I’m not new here, so you’re not the only person I’ve met, and I’m still cool with joining me.” He started off down the hall.

She smirked and followed after him. First friend! This day is working out pretty well!

The cafeteria was noisy and bright. High ceilings and large windows made it feel roomy and pleasant, despite the floor being overcrowded with circular tables. Lucky for Lucy, most of the students in the room had already gone through the lunch line, so it looked as though there wouldn’t be much of a wait. She followed Natsu over to the stack of trays and slid into the line behind him.

“Hey, do me a favor?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Sure, what’s up?” she replied, somewhat surprised.

“Those stingy lunch ladies don’t let you take more than one of anything, even if you swear you’ll eat it,” he grumbled, “so would you mind getting one of everything and letting me have anything you don’t want?”

Lucy blinked, then broke into giggles. “Sure, I can do that. It’s the least I can do for breaking me out of the fangirl trance earlier.”

He smiled and continued through the line. Because it was only the first day and the school schedule was all out of whack, the lunch ladies had just opted to order several hundred boxes of pepperoni pizza rather than offer multiple main dishes. Lucy didn’t mind, as a single slice and a carton of milk would probably fill her up, but the way Natsu pestered the lunch ladies for an extra slice and attempted to swipe an extra thing of grapes made her pretty sure he wasn’t happy with the idea. True to her word, though, she made sure to get a scoop of corn and a cup of peaches even though she had no intention of touching either.

“I don’t see any of my friends around…” Natsu mumbled as they pulled away from the serving area, scanning the room. He looked over his shoulder at her. “I guess I’ll just have to introduce you later. Want to sit outside?”

She gave him an enthusiastic nod and he returned a toothy grin. He led her through the tables away from where they had entered and pushed open the door, balancing his tray in one hand. It opened to a patio that stretched along the back side of the school, though the area near the door was somewhat sectioned off by decorative concrete planters and filled with round wire tables. Beyond the seating area, grass sloped down slightly from the patio to the fence marking off the athletic fields. So far, this was the only part of Magnolia High that reminded her of Konzern Academy. Both schools had remarkably fine landscaping.

Natsu led her past the concrete planters and plopped down at the top of the grassy slope. She did the same, still somewhat ogling at the extent the rear of the school had been decorated.

“Alright, what can I take?” he asked, shifting things around on his tray.

“Oh right!” Lucy said. She took a glance at her crowded tray. She unfolded her napkin and moved her slice of pizza on to it, picked up her milk carton, and then held out the tray to Natsu. “You can have the rest. This is all I want.”

Natsu gave her a surprised look without reaching out for it.

“You sure?” he marveled.

“Oh yeah I don’t eat much.” She held out the tray, nodding to him.

He looked it over and took it. After a second, he pulled the school-made brownies off both her tray and his own, handing them back to her.

“Oh no I’m good,” she laughed, “It’s really okay.”

“I know,” he said, “but I’m not a fan of sweets anyway. Go on.”

Figuring he would insist if she refused, she took them both and sat them in her lap with her pizza slice.

“So,” he began, folding his pizza like a taco, “you’re new right?”

She nodded, opening her milk carton. “Yeah, I just transferred from Konzern Academy.”

“Tha’ private shool wi’ the astrology thingy?” he said, mouth full.

“That’s the one,” she said, giggling and taking a sip, “I was in the astrology program, actually, but the rest of the school… Kind of dead in terms of fun.”

He nodded, shoving the rest of his pizza into his mouth.

“I actually came here because of the theatre program,” she continued, “The only arts Konzern offers are classical training in music and whatnot, and as much as I respect people who play violin concertos, it’s just a bit uptight for me. Not to mention the whole dress code thing where we all look like identical little aristocrats.”

Natsu almost choked on the grape he had just popped into his mouth, snickering.

She smiled, taking a bite out of a brownie. “When I heard Magnolia’s theatre department partnered with the professional theatre company in town I just had to come here. I guess I could have just auditioned for the theatre company without transferring schools and doing it on my own time, but there’s no way I’d be good enough to get in just like that.”

Natsu shook his head, swallowing the last peach in his fruit cup, “I bet you could’ve gotten in just fine.”

She laughed as he violently shoved more food into his mouth. “Well, maybe, but that still would have left me with wearing those stupid uniforms every day.”

He paused, cheeks full, then shrugged and nodded.

Lucy smiled and continued eating.

Natsu swallowed. “What do you think so far?”

“Oh I love it!” she bubbled. “There are so many interesting people, and it seems like there’s always something fun going on.”

Natsu laughed, mouth full of corn, “Bu’ I though’ I wash the only pershon you met!”

Lucy swallowed the last bite of her pizza, blushing. “Well yeah, but it’s easy to see when everyone isn’t wearing the same thing!”

“I guess that’s true,” Natsu replied, downing his milk carton in a single gulp.

Lucy blinked, just now taking in how much food the pinkette had shoved into his face. When they had come out here, both trays were overflowing with fruit cups and scoops of vegetables. Now, only minutes later, his tray was completely cleaned off, and he was almost done with Lucy’s. She still had a brownie and most of her milk left.

“Whatcha starin’ at?” Natsu shoved an apple slice into his mouth. “Ish there shomething on my jacket?”

She giggled and shook her head. “I just can’t believe you ate so much.” She took a bite from her brownie.

“Thish? Thish ish barely a meal.” He swallowed. “But I ought to thank you. Even though I asked you to get extra, I wasn’t expecting you to let me have that much.” He grinned. “Gochisou sama deshita![1]”

Lucy’s jaw dropped, and forgetting her mouth was full of brownie, said, “You shpeak Japaneshe?”

He started in confusion, then said, “Sukoshi hanaseru. Lucy-san mo?[2]”

“Watashi mo![3]” she squealed.

Natsu’s face lit up and his grin got even bigger. “Waaa sugeeei[4] are you in second year Japanese then?”

“I am!” she chimed.

“Yosh! Moete kita so![5]” Lucy was quite surprised at her luck. Not only had she made a friend on day one, but he also happened to be in one of her more difficult classes. Half the time when she met people on the first day of school they ended up not having a single period with her and they never spoke again. She was glad this wasn’t the case with the quirky pinkette.

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the rest of the day’s activities. Natsu gave a little start, looked down at the remaining food on Lucy’s tray, then looked up at her.

“Think I can finish?” he said with a grin.

“We’ve only got five minutes to get to class, don’t we?” she replied, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“You’re right,” he said, grinning wider, “That’s plenty of time!” Suddenly he was scooping food into his mouth at an even faster pace, occasionally dropping corn kernels into the grass. Lucy recoiled slightly. Less than a minute later he had cleaned the tray completely.

“Well, thanks again, Lucy,” he hummed, getting to his feet with a stretch, “Guess I’ll see you in Japanese?”

“Sounds like.” She got to her feet and popped the last bite of brownie into her mouth.

“Alrighty,” he said, holding out a hand, “Yoroshiku na.[6]”

“Kochira koso.[7]”

Despite thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of Magnolia High, by her third class she started to miss the efficiency of Konzern Academy. The first day at Magnolia was broken into two segments, where the welcome assembly took up the first half of the morning, lunch was served, and then the students would visit each of their classes for only twenty minutes before going back home. In some ways it was helpful – it prevented the teachers from giving out any homework on day one and allowed new students to find their way around without as much stress, but it left almost no time to meet anyone in any of the classes. She had already been to her first five classes and hadn’t been able to make friends with anyone but Natsu. It hadn’t helped that she had gotten horribly lost a few times and ended up at all but her first class five minutes late.

While the lack of social interaction was disappointing, she had started to get a feel for what classes here would be like. Her first period math teacher seemed quite nice, despite his intimidatingly blocky features. He had given out a syllabus that had the words Money is important, but love is what fuels the world printed in bold underneath his contact email, which Lucy took to be a good sign. The Japanese professor was a little harsher, though, as even waving across the room to Natsu had the woman shooting her an annoyed look. Her history class seemed interesting – as long as she could get used to the teacher saying “actually” much too often – and Natsu was also in her gym class, so dealing with the, um, somewhat excitable coach couldn’t be too bad. She was especially looking forward to her physics class with Prof. Clive, whose school year opener had been to karate chop a cinder block in half and explain how he did it with physics. She had no doubt her fifth period was going to be a blast.

Now she wandered down a hall in what she hoped was the direction of her English class. There were a few other students bustling about, but not enough to get in her way at any point. Perhaps it’s this way? The classroom numbers are going up, so I must be headed to the right place. C’mon, Lucy, it’s almost the end of the day, you’ve just got to find this one-

She cut herself off and came to a halt. Crap. It’s almost the end of the day. I still need Director Dreyar’s signature. But I guess it’s only Monday and they needed it by Wednes-

“You need Director Dreyar’s signature?”

Lucy whipped around toward the smooth voice. Salamander was leaning against the lockers not far away, staring at her through his windswept bangs.

Abruptly realizing she had been talking to herself, she sputtered, “Well, yeah, I’m trying to transfer into the theatre course.”

Salamander pushed off the lockers and swaggered closer. “You know, I’ve been looking for you. After I saw you in that crowd this morning, I knew I had to personally invite you to my party tonight.”

Lucy gulped, her heart quickening at his attractiveness despite his less than appealing attitude. “I’m not really a party person,” she replied.

“Aw, just this once?” he coaxed, “I’m a member of the drama club. If you come, I’d be happy to introduce you to Director Dreyar tomorrow.”

Lucy gave a start. She didn’t have any idea what Director Dreyar looked like, nor did she know where his classroom was. Perhaps one party couldn’t hurt? It wasn’t like this Salamander guy set of any major red flags – not anything she couldn’t handle anyway.

“Alright, but you’ve gotta do one other thing for me.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She looked sheepishly down at her feet, and asked, “Where’s room 213?”

Salamander blinked, then broke into chuckles. “Right up those stairs, down the first hall on the right, second or third door on your left.”

“Thanks,” she said, starting off.

“Wait, take this.” He handed her a folded piece of paper. “You’re going to need to know where the party is, won’t you?”

She shoved it in her pocket, nodded with a polite smile, and took off up the stairs.

She got to her classroom with a few minutes to spare. Glancing around the room, she noticed Natsu at a desk towards the back, tilting his chair back on two legs with his arms behind his head.

“Oi, Luce!” he smiled, giving a slight wave. “Way to be on time this time!”

Lucy frowned at him, plopping into the adjacent desk. “Gym wasn’t my fault. The room number was literally just ‘the rec center’ so you can’t blame me for getting lost.”

“What was different about this class then?” he teased.

“For your information,” she replied matter-of-factly, “That preppy guy from this morning gave me directions.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, “That guy is way too full of himself to be nice.”

“He did though,” she grinned, “and he personally invited me to his party.”

Natsu raised an eyebrow. “You planning on going to that?”

“Yeah, I am,” she chirped.

“Whatever,” he said, shrugging.

The rest of that class was rather dull. Mr. Melon, their English professor, had perfected the art of using lots of pretty words and not saying much at all. Natsu drifted off to sleep minutes after the lecture started, and Lucy couldn’t help but snicker at the dribble sneaking out the side of his mouth. When the bell rang fifteen minutes later, she didn’t bother to nudge him awake – he could be late to his next class. It would be the perfect revenge for teasing her about getting lost.

She stepped out into the hall and pulled out her schedule. She scanned down to the bottom and found a blank. Oh, right, she thought, I haven’t gotten Director Dreyar’s signature yet. But there’s only 20 minutes of class left, and I have no idea where to find him… She took a glance around the hall, tapping her finger on her chin. I guess I could just head home. Salamander said he’d introduce me to Director Dreyar tomorrow anyway.

She took a peek back into the classroom just in time to see Mr. Melon slam a textbook on Natsu’s desk, shocking him awake. She giggled and left for home.

Lucy’s heart pounded as she approached the door of the house. It was obvious to see the party was already well underway, as green and blue lights flashed behind the curtains and the deep thump of a subwoofer carried out to the street. Lucy was surprised none of the neighbors had called the police, honestly. Perhaps this was the norm around this part of town.

She tugged up on her sleeveless black dress and smoothed out the short skirt over her thighs, then raised a hand to knock. Before her fingers touched wood, it swung open.

“Ah, I’ve been waiting for you!” Salamander grinned. To Lucy’s surprise, his gaze held steady on her face, despite her rather skimpy attire. “Come on in! Things just got started.” He led her through the dimly lit entryway into the kitchen, grabbing two red solo cups off the counter.

“The name’s Bora, by the way,” he said, offering her a drink.

“Lucy,” she said, eyeing the cup, “but I don’t drink, thanks.”

Bora chuckled. “It’s not alcohol, just ginger ale. If you need to get drunk to have fun, you can’t be a very interesting person.” He shot her a clever smirk. “Besides, how do you think we throw wild parties in the middle of the neighborhood without getting arrested?”

A bit of a grin snuck onto her face. Maybe this guy isn’t as bad as I thought. Still, accepting drinks from someone she hardly knew at a party with tons of people hardly seemed like a good idea.

“Do you mind if I poor my own?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“Not at all,” he said. He snatched a cup and a 2-liter off the kitchen island across from them and handed them to her, then taking a swig from his own glass.

She smiled, poured her cup a little over half full and took a drink. The carbonated soda bubbled across her tongue and down her throat, leaving the dark taste of cherry cola.

“So I heard you do fire tricks,” Lucy commented to Bora.

“That I do,” he replied suavely. “Special effects, too, but that’s not as fun.”

“Oh?” Lucy queried. “How so?”

“Well, both end up looking pretty cool…” He brushed his bangs to the side. “…but when I’m doing the tricks, the audience can see me do it.”

Lucy bit her lip, heart rate picking up momentarily. “And that’s more exciting?”

“Oh most definitely. Then I can see the excitement in the eyes of my fans.” Leaning close, he breathed, “Almost like that look in your eyes right now.”

Lucy jumped, blushing a tad. He was right, he was most definitely attractive, and she was most definitely not hiding that she thought so. She stammered, “I-I have no idea what you mean.”

He grinned and pulled away. “I know you do, but if you want to play things slow tonight then I respect that.” He tilted his head in the direction of the lights, and she followed after him. Maybe coming was a good idea after all.

Natsu groaned as he rolled and stretched his shoulders. Somehow Coach Coco got it into her head that they should kick off the year with a double-length double-strength conditioning day, despite the fact cross country had started practices two weeks ago. He didn’t mind working out and did so regularly on his own, but damn that coach had some intense drills.

It was now pretty late, and the only light left was the leftovers of a vanishing sunset. The street lights had already come on, and he was grateful for the help in finding his spot in the parking lot. Just as he was stepping off the curb onto the asphalt, he heard two female voices from behind him.

“Dangit, the party’s probably started by now.”

“I wish Coach hadn’t decided to go nuts today, then we could have gone.”

“Too late now, by the time I finished getting all dolled up there would hardly be a party left.”

“It’s too bad. I bet Salamander will do some of his fire tricks since he’s the one hosting.”

Natsu stopped dead in his tracks.

“I’ve heard so much about him just today.” Peeking over his shoulder, he could see the girls were pretty small – likely freshmen. So they don’t know.

“My sophomore friend said he’s the best act at the talent show. I really wish we could have gone and seen him in person!”

Natsu turned around, and called, “Excuse me!”

The girls jumped a bit, not aware there was someone else out here.

“You guys were talking about a party?” he said, stepping forward. “Mind telling me where at?”

The smaller girl smiled. “No problem! I have the address right here.” She pulled a folded, pink post-it out of her pocket and handed it to him.

“Thanks!” he said, flashing a grin. He started back towards the lot, then remembered something.

“Hey! By the way…”

“I never would have thought…”

Bora smirked, tossing his hair back. “Thought what?”

Lucy leaned back into the couch, taking a sip of her drink. “Thought that a guy dressed like that could be anything but shallow.”

“A man has to have style,” Bora replied, tugging on his maroon tie. “I could say the same about you.”

It was true. Lucy was rather daring in showing as much cleavage as she did. She blushed lightly and heard him sigh in response. He leaned a little closer to her, dark eyes gazing into hers. She felt her heart flutter.

“You know, you’re quite beautiful,” he breathed. Lucy simply soaked in his gaze. He leaned a little closer, then looked down.

“Oh hey,” he said, smiling a tad, “Your glass is almost empty. Let me get you a refill.”

He took the cup from her smoothly and glided away into the kitchen. She let out a shaky breath, feeling her heart pound in her chest, cheeks heating up. The idea that he might be interested in her… it was exhilarating.

He returned, sitting down and passing her the newly filled plastic cup with a grin. She took it, blushing and taking a sip.

They talked for a few more minutes, exchanging flirty compliments and deep stares. Then Bora stood up, offering her a hand.

“Whatcha doing?” Lucy asked, warmth building in her chest.

“I wanna show you something,” he said simply, “Out on the back porch.”

She felt her heart hitch and she took his hand, following him out through some cabana-style French doors into the cool night air. The sky was clear and glittering with stars, but as he led her to the banister it was the pool he pointed to. She gasped to see the same night sky reflected perfectly on the surface.

“On clear nights like this,” he whispered, “The pool and the sky are so beautiful. Like you.”

She sighed, smiling at the compliment, dazedly watching a shooting star fly across the reflection in the pool.

Suddenly she started to wobble, leaning more onto the banister. “Bora, I’m a little tired…”

He smiled gently at her and led her by the hand back inside. Lucy’s eyes started to droop and she was only vaguely aware that, rather than leading her back to the couch in the living room, he had pulled her into a dark bedroom.

She blinked, mumbling, “Bora, what…? We’ll miss more of the party…”

Bora slid the door shut behind him and stepped up to her, only inches away. He slid one arm around her waist and brushed her cheek with his free hand.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have more fun in here,” he hummed, nudging her backwards toward the bed.

Her eyes flashed open as widely as they would go. “B-Bora, what are you…?”

With a sudden ferocity he pushed her down, landing on top of her on the plush mattress. She tried to let out a yelp, but it was cut off when his lips were suddenly smashed against hers. She tried to wrench her face away, but her muscles didn’t seem to respond half as well as they should have. Panic started to well up in her.

Trying to protest through his lips she pushed on his shoulders with as much strength as her arms would yield, though it wasn’t much. Bora grabbed her hands, lifting them above her head and pinning them with his elbow. She whimpered as his other hand slid down her side roughly and approached the edge of her skirt. Her heart raced as she struggled under his weight. He lifted his lips from hers and moved his face to her neck. Lucy cried and attempted a shout, but it was like all the strength had left her. My drink… she thought weakly, He must have spiked it… when he got me a refill…

She tried digging her nails into his arm as she felt his sweaty hand inch up her thigh. Sobbing and kicking weakly she heard him breathe into her ear, “You must be enjoying this, huh?” She bit her lip and turned her head away.

Suddenly the door was thrown open and a burst of orange light splayed across the room as Bora was yanked off of her, falling against the wall with a thud. The orange light flickered as a figure shifted into the space between her and Bora. Groggily, she registered pink hair and a scaly white scarf.

“N-Natsu?” she stammered. He looked over his shoulder at her, but she couldn’t see his expression in the shadow cast over his face.

Bora took the glance as an opportunity, launching off the wall at Natsu and attempting to land a left hook. Natsu managed to dodge most of the way, turning what would have been a dark bruise into a light graze on his cheek. Lucy saw him grab Bora’s shoulders, barely able to make out what was going on in the dim light. She heard a nasty crunch of sheetrock and a loud grown before feeling a gentle but strong hand lifting her into a sitting position.

“Lucy, daijoubu ka?[8]” he panted.

“I-I think s-so…” she stammered, “He told m-me he c-could… g-get me in the d-drama c-course… H-he m-must have s-spiked my d-drink… I can’t m-move…”

“I figured, “ he growled, “Some of the other girls looked pretty groggy. I already called the cops. I’ll get you out of-“ A hand fisted in Natsu’s spikey hair, yanking him back.

“You BASTARD!” Bora roared, throwing Natsu to the floor, “I’ll teach you to mess with the Salamander!”

Natsu took a few hits before catching Bora’s wrist and landing a right hook of his own. Bora reeled back enough for Natsu to slip out from under him, clambering to his feet. As Bora struggled to stand, Natsu pulled a box from his pocket and flicked it open. A small flame licked out of the corner. A lighter? To Lucy’s surprise, Natsu held the small flame to his palm, and his whole hand burst into flame.

She yelped, recoiling as the bright fist lit up the room. Bora’s eyes bulged, and he snarled, “Just who are you?!”

Natsu gave him a smoldering glare, shadows dancing on his face.

“The guy behind the username you’ve been usurping.”

Bora’s shocked face was met with a flaming uppercut, and then he was out cold.

Natsu extinguished the flame on his fist before clamoring to where Lucy sat.

“Lucy,” he breathed, looking her in the eyes, “Where do you live? I’ll get you home.”

“S-Sakura… Avenue…” she mumbled, blinking slowly, “231C… on the canal…”

“Okay, not far. Hey stay with me Luce,” he replied, her head starting to droop, “Do you have your house key?”

He followed her lidded gaze towards the door, seeing a bag and a pair of heels tossed haphazardly next to the frame. He picked up the shoes and put them in the bag, glancing around for anything else in the room that might be hers before slinging it over his shoulder. He returned to the bed.

“I’m going to pick you up,” he whispered as calmly as he could muster. Lucy simply stared at him, heavy eyes barely holding on to consciousness. He felt a slight flinch as he put an arm behind her back.

“You can trust me,” he continued, hooking his elbow under her knees and beginning to rise. “I won’t hurt you. Let’s get you home.”

He lifted her off the bed and swiftly made his way toward the front door, avoiding the scorched, unconscious teens he had left in his wake when he rushed inside. Several of the girls – all freshmen and sophomores, it seemed – were huddled together in the corner, crying. He had already told them the police were on their way, and that all they had to do was tell them what happened. He knew they wouldn’t get in trouble – this was a dry party, after all, and the drugging was solely Bora and his cronies’ faults. Those girls would be fine, but Natsu felt particularly responsible for this one.

She came to this party, he thought angrily, just to get into Fairy Tail? She could have just asked me. I should have paid more attention to her when she was talking about her plans during lunch – maybe this wouldn’t have happened at all.

He reached his cerulean blue motorcycle and gingerly climbed into the seat, using the handlebars and his left arm to cradle Lucy securely in front of him. She was totally unconscious now. Her house wasn’t far, though, and if he went slowly he ought to be able to get her there safely.

As he started his bike, he had the sudden impression that something was… off. He looked around, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. The only noticeable oddity was one of the street lights slightly flickering rather than holding a constant glow. The air was cool but not cold, just as it should be for a late August night, and the only scent in the air was freshly cut grass and a hint of the lighter fluid he still had on his fingers. But something felt weird. Almost reminiscent of the feeling of déjà vu, but not quite the same.

Just as suddenly as the feeling had surfaced, it was gone again. He shook his head lightly and drove away.

[1] Thanks for the meal!

[2] I can speak a little. Can you?

[3] Me too!

[4] Whoa awesomeeee

[5] I’m all fired up!

[6] Pleased to meet you.

[7] Likewise.

[8] Are you okay?

#fairy tail #scripted wishes #fanfiction #japanese #anime #nalu #lolu #jerza #gajevy #gruvia

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