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scapegrace74-blog · 2 years ago

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Don’t Let Me Fall, Chapter 6

A/N I think we have officially entered slow burn territory, folks. Hopefully you find all this world building and partnership building a halfway acceptable substitute for sexy shenanigans. I now have this story plotted to conclusion, although I won’t say how many more chapters in case I change my mind. For those holding out for a break in all of this built up sexual tension, you shouldn’t have to wait much longer.

The earlier chapters of this story can be read here.

“No, Jamie! Your timing is all off. It goes ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM! ” Lydia, our routine choreographer was yelling up at my partner, and I couldn’t say that I blamed her. We’d be rehearsing this same sequence for nearly an hour, but something about it just wasn’t clicking for him.

It was hardly the most technical part of the routine. Jamie and I were each holding a single strap while we spun in a wide circle above the stage, a twin-planet solar system. We were supposed to change positions in time with the music’s rhythm before coming back to the mat for the next sequence of moves.

“Alright, take a five-minute break,” Lydia conceded to my great relief.

I wandered over to the drinking fountain to refill my water flask. Jamie joined me, looking cross.

“I dinna ken about ye, Tourist, but I am fit to ba-DUM-dum-dum my heid against yon wall.”

“What is it about this particular move, Jamie? Maybe there’s something I can do to help.”

It was a preposterous idea, me helping my far-more experienced partner. Not a day went by that I wasn’t learning something new that he’d mastered in circus school, but he had been remarkably patient with me and if I could return the favour, I would.

Jamie glanced over his shoulder, as if to ascertain whether he might be heard. I instinctively leaned closer.

“Tis the music, ye ken?” he confessed quietly. I shook my head to indicate I had no idea what he meant.

“Normally, I memorize the timing and count it out in my head as I go. Fer some reason, I canna seem to get the knack of this one.”

I stared at him with dawning comprehension. The truth, once I understood it, was painfully obvious.

“Do you mean to say you can’t hear music?” I whispered.

Jamie frowned, then shook his head slowly.

“I can hear the sound of it jes’ fine, but it doesna reconcile inta any kinda pattern inside my heid.”

I bit my lip as I considered our situation. This was obviously a secret Jamie kept to himself, protecting his weakness by any means possible. Whatever solution we found, it would have to stay between the two of us.

“Well, Tropico has a very tribal-sounding score. Lots of African and Brazilian influenced…” I petered off.

“What, Tourist? What are ye thinking?”

“This piece of music. It’s a samba.” Jamie showed no sign of understanding. “That means the rhythm is syncopated. The stress is on the off-beat. I bet that’s why you aren’t able to follow along inside your head!”

“So yer saying there’s no use? That I canna learn the stupid ba-DUM-dum-dum-BAs?” he snarled, clearly frustrated.

“No, I’m saying you’re just going to have to hear the rhythm another way,” I explained.

“I’m tellin’ ye, Claire, I canna hear music. No’ since I was a lad. Ye canna fix me.”

I smiled broadly. “Trust me, partner.”

After our break, we returned to the straps.

“Alright, from the beginning of the revolution,” Lydia coached. “Let’s hope that break did you some good.”

The music started as Jamie and I were lifted into the air on a gentle arc. I could feel the apprehension humming across his skin. Where my hand crossed his ribs, I began a subtle pulse with my middle finger in time to the music. One pulse for each syncopated beat. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM. Jamie’s movements fell into rhythm with my hand as we spun and transitioned perfectly through the air. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM.

“Perfect!” Lydia crowed. “Beautiful! You’ve finally got it!”

Jamie’s smile of gratitude was beauty incarnate. My heart beat in time to the music. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM.

***

The death spiral. That was what Claire had been calling it since the first time Lydia described the signature move in their aerials routine. It was said in jest, but Jamie was superstitious enough that he wished she’d find another name.

The move was astonishing in its audacity. Hanging by one arm, Jamie would lower Claire down his body until he held her, upside down, by one ankle as they spun above the mat. One very fragile, recently injured ankle. He’d been putting off working the maneuver, trying to buy Claire’s tendon as many extra days as possible to heal, but their time was up. Tropico was going on tour in three weeks.

With each attempt, it became more and more apparent that they were in serious trouble. Claire would serpentine down his body with sinuous ease, but as he grasped her ankle, she would flinch. Instincts at war with themselves, he wanted neither to hurt her by holding on or kill her by dropping her. Fortunately, her safety harness made the decision moot, but very soon it would have to go, leaving him with an impossible choice.

“Maybe if I wrap my ankle,” Claire suggested as they sat side by side on the mat during a water break. “Or apply some sort of topical numbing cream.”

Jamie didn’t even bother articulating what they both knew: Cirque des Étoiles didn’t allow their talent to perform injured. The fact that Claire was practicing while still not one hundred percent healed was testament to the dire situation Tropico was in. One more setback, and the entire tour might be cancelled, at tremendous expense to the company.

“Well I’m not bloody well giving up!” Claire huffed. “We’ve come too far to go backwards.”

Jamie looked down at his left hand where it grasped his water bottle, then over at the mat, mind tumbling over itself.

“Actually, Tourist, going backwards may be exactly what we need to do.”

For the first time all morning, Jamie smiled.

***

“Are you out of your fucking mind!” Lydia shouted, drawing a number of startled looks from performers rehearsing nearby.

“It’s the perfect solution,” Jamie explained calmly.

“It’s the only solution,” Claire added.

“Aye, an’ that’s what makes it perfect.”

Lydia was pacing the mat and shaking her head with every stride.

“It’ll never work. You’d have to reverse the entire routine. Learn every move from scratch. In less than three weeks!” the choreographer ranted.

“It’s not as though I need to unlearn years of training,” Claire explained. “Any move I’m doing right now I’ve only known for six weeks anyway.”

“Maybe that makes some sort of bizarre sense in your unique circumstance, Claire, but this one,” Lydia gestured at Jamie, “has been performing right-handed for years. It’s vital that he has maximum strength and control for all the lift and balance moves…”

“Actually, I’m left-handed,” Jamie threw out casually.

Lydia stared at him, jaw slack.

“You’re what?”

“Left-handed. I jes perform wi’ my right hand because that’s what worked best fer my partners. Until now.”

Jamie looked at Claire and executed a facial contortion that was the bastard cousin of a wink. Claire winked back with a saucy grin.

“Oh my god, you two deserve each other,” Lydia threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine. You win. We’ll reverse the entire damn routine. But one of you is telling Marylebone. I don’t get paid enough for that shit.”

“It’ll work out, ye’ll see,” Jamie looped his arm companionably over the much shorter woman’s shoulders.

“It better. Otherwise, we’re all out of a job. Or worse. All right, from the top, I guess.”

***

“Ye’re harder to find than a parking spot in Mayfair.” Geillis Duncan’s voice echoed from the speaker I had placed on the counter while I prepared breakfast.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. It’s been utterly mad here, if that’s any excuse.”

“As yer agent, I approve. As yer friend who misses ye and wants tae hear yer news, I’m still a wee bit miffed.”

Geillis and I communicated via text on a regular basis, so her petulance was mostly for show. We hadn’t spoken live, however, since the day Jamie and I went for our hike together and I accepted a permanent place on Cirque des Étoiles’s roster for Tropico.

“Sae, tell me everything. Are ye ready tae go on tour? How’s yer ankle?”

“The ankle is holding up fine, especially now that we’ve changed up the routine. The harnesses come off next week, so I guess we’ll find out then just how ready I am.”

“I’m proud of ye, hen. Ye’ve really given this aerial thing yer all. Whoever wouldha thunk it, aye?”

I laughed, remembering my incredulous reaction when Geillis first proposed flying to Montreal for an audition with a veritable circus. It was hard to believe less than three months had passed. It felt like I was living an entirely different life. One I found vastly more appealing, for all its uncertainty and strangeness.

“Frank was asking after ye the o’her day,” Geillis said in a surprisingly neutral tone. “I gather things didna work out wi’ yon Slovenian bairn, an’ he wanted tae ken when ye’d be back in London. Readin’ between the lines, I think he wants ye back as a partner.”

A flood of reactions washed through me. Incredulity. Vindication. Curiosity. But not even a glimmer of interest.

“Honestly, Geil, I don’t know if I’ll ever return. Not to perform ballet, anyway. I feel like I finally found the place where I belong, you know?”

Geillis made a noise that was a cross between “aha” and “uhhuh”.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m jes wonderin’ how much of yer newfound love fer the circus is related tae that ginger dreamboat of a partner o’ yours,” she said with her typical bluntness.

“Jamie?” I clarified needlessly, buying time while I pulled my thoughts together and then stashed them in a well-hidden place. “He’s a thousand times the partner Frank ever was, and I’m honoured to call him a friend, but that’s where it ends.” I was silently glad we weren’t on a video call because my face felt hot all of a sudden.

“Jes business, no’ pleasure, then,” Geillis confirmed. “Well, thas’ a shame, because abs like those deserve tae be ridden inta a mattress, regularly an’ wi’ vigour.”

A mental picture of Jamie’s truly spectacular abdominals flittered across the screen of my mind. I cursed Geillis for putting it there. I’d be blind not to notice how perfectly put together he was, but when we were performing, I had no problem seeing his body as nothing more than the apparatus I was working with. Making me conscious that the apparatus was in fact a living, breathing, disarmingly attractive man was a dirty trick.

“Hey,” I realized belatedly. “When did you seen Jamie’s abs?”

“Weeeel, after ye mentioned him a time or twelve, I googled him,” Geillis confessed. “He’s got quite the female following online who gave him whole slew of nicknames.”

“Nicknames?” I was sure to regret asking, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh aye. There’s The Great Scot an’ Circus Maximus. Those are some o’ the tamer ones. My personal favourite is The Flying Fuck.”

I spat my mouthful of protein shake across the countertop.

“Word is he had a thing wi’ his former partner,” Geillis continued undaunted. “Some French-Canadian strumpet who left him fer another man.”

I’d heard that Anna-Louise was dating her new partner on Allegro. Jamie never mentioned her name, so I had no idea how he felt about the break-up. It couldn’t be easy knowing the general public was discussing your private life like the plot of the latest soap opera.

“Well, be that as it may, it isn’t like that with us,” I insisted “Jamie hasn’t shown the slightest romantic interest in me. We’re partners, pure and simple.”

Geillis hung up soon afterwards, making promises to buy tickets to Tropico when we passed through London. I robotically completed the rest of my morning routine, cleaning the kitchen, donning my workout gear, brushing my teeth, but all the while my mind was playing over my conversation with my agent. After my early infatuation with Jamie, I had convinced myself I’d transitioned rather well to a purely professional regard. With all the other changes happening around us, it made sense not to rock the boat.

If Jamie was interested in me, I told myself, he would have to make the first move.

#my writing #outlander #fanfiction

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sixeyesgojo · 4 years ago

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I’ll Be Your Enemy

Summary: Gojo Satoru is willing to do anything for you. As long as it helps you heal from what haunted your night.

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Word count: 2,019

Content warning: implied but unspecified mental illness, mentions of self-harm (scratching), mentions of character death

A/N: Kind of stumbled upon this masterpiece of a song and I thought it would be ideal for some Gojo HURT. This entire thing takes place after the Cursed Womb Arc, so to say: after Yuji dies.

Song: Be Your Enemy by Taemin ft. Wendy

PREQUEL HERE: Pictures of You

Quickly, quickly. The key was inserted into the keyhole and turned. The door lock clicked faintly, signaling that the door has been unlocked. Satoru made sure to open and close the door softly as he entered the familiar apartment. Putting the spare key into his pocket, he slid out of his shoes. Usually he would have made some big noise to ‘announce his arrival’ but not this time. He left his shoes neatly at the genkan of the residence and slipped into the white slippers that always stood by the wooden door, an extra pair just for him.

23 minutes ago. “Hello?” Satoru had picked up the phone. “Gojo-san! Finally the call went through. I’m glad I am able to reach you now,” the voice on the other end said. “Yo, Ijichi, what’s up?” Satoru greeted. He had been sent to a pretty rural area of Japan to get rid of some pesky curses and the cell phone reception was poor in that place, so it wasn’t surprising that calls didn’t go through at times. In addition to that, some curses that manifested had an electrical ability, which impaired the cell towers at place even more. Almost as if planned. “Gojo-san, I think you need to come back as fast as you can,” the man with glasses on the other end of the line stated calmly. “Why?” was the only thing the white-haired sorcerer said in response. Somehow, he had a strange feeling in his gut. The tone in Ijichi’s voice didn’t do anything to calm this odd feeling either.

“It’s L/N-san. Something horrible happened and I don’t think she is taking it well. I did my best to calm her but I’m at wits’ end too…” Ichiji explained vaguely. Satoru was experiencing a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - his stomach churned, it felt like his guts were wrenching inside him - at the mention of your name. “Ijichi,” he said in a relatively calm voice. He was lucky his voice wasn’t betraying him by showing what he truly felt in that moment. Satoru’s feet were set in rapid motion. “Stay calm. I need you to explain to me what exactly happened.”

Gojo Satoru might be many things. A tease, a teacher (supposedly), a cruel man, a strong sorcerer, a crazy coach, a walking menace to some, protective, an inspiration to a handful, a venti-sized manchild, idiotic, a sweets maniac, a lifelong student to Yaga, playful, a pillar of the Jujutsu world… but most importantly, he was a caring person. This goes without saying for his students and especially his loved ones. What Ijichi just said on the phone had left his heart stinging in his chest. He was in the kitchen, leaving the bag he brought with him on the table.

“Alright. I will tell you what happened, Gojo-san.” “I am listening.” “I am not sure if you are aware that this happened,” the suit-clad man began, “but one of the missions that was originally assigned to you - a case of utmost priority of a cursed womb - was suddenly taken off of your pile and reassigned…” Satoru’s eyes narrowed underneath the black fabric. The beginning already left a bad taste in his mouth; missions assigned to him were usually first grade or even special grade and he knew all too well that there were nowhere enough first grade, let alone special grade, sorcerers around. So who had it been assigned to? “...to your three first-year students,” Ijichi finished with a sigh. The sickening hotness of rage filled Satoru’s whole body. Already having realized the scenario that must have taken place, he still asked for confirmation, “What grade?” “...Special grade. One casualty.” The picture that you had taken of him, his first years and yourself (so carefully hung up on your wall at home) flashed in front of his inner eye. He clenched his teeth so hard as he wordlessly hung up; it hurt. It hurt so badly.

Such an atrocious inhumane act coated in malice. He was going to kill these dirty-playing bastards. However, that would have to wait until later. Much later. Satoru couldn’t leave you to your own devices, not in this state. The scenario he concluded for himself earlier replayed in his mind several times as he made his way through your completely dark apartment. His heart stung with each beat. It was almost as if someone drove a blade through his chest repeatedly.

When he stood in front of the closed door of your bedroom, he heard soft sobs coming from inside. Should he knock to let you know someone came? He wasn’t sure what to do. He gave the door two soft knocks and entered the room. It was your hunched form on the bed, no doubt. Satoru could not see your face with the way your back was facing him. Slowly he made his way to your bed and crouched down to face you. Your face was swollen and tear-stained, a sight he didn’t see often. His large hand rested on your shoulder and gently rubbed it, a silent question hung in the air.

Finally, you looked at him with your swollen eyes. Almost instantly, your sobs got louder and you reached out for the tall sorcerer. “S-Satoru…” you hiccuped in-between sobs. “Yeah. I’m here, I’m here,” he reassured you and stroked the wet hair out of your puffy face as you threw yourself around him, relentlessly crying into his broad shoulders. The white-haired man enclosed his arms around you but it wasn’t to hug you for comfort.

He scooped your delicate frame up and wrapped a warm blanket around you before leaning your body against the headboard of the bed. He sat next to you on the bed and guided your head onto his shoulders. Your violent sobbing stopped but tears were still flowing freely.

If there was someone who understood the agony, bitterness and distress someone in this line of work had to face, it was Gojo Satoru. The path of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was painted black and red by trials and tribulations. This was why Satoru was so hell-bent on resetting the world he called his obligation. “If you feel exhausted, just lean on me for a second,” his calm voice sounded through the room. There was no answer from you. Even if there was silence, your feelings reached his heart and he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked gently. Let it go with me. It’ll be easier to shake this burden off and share it, he thought. Of course, he would never dare force you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, as if to get even closer physically.

Ultimately, the woman sucked in a breath and with a shaky voice and recounted everything in her point of view. “I-I.. was on a mission when I… got a call from Ijichi. ‘Something wasn’t right’, he said and… t-told me about the cursed womb. As soon as I heard… that they sent y-your students there, I rushed to the location but…”, you hiccuped, “...I was too late… Y-Yuji, he-” You sobbed hysterically into his shoulder. Satoru turned to you to wipe away the tears and snot with a tissue. “Shhh, I’m here, I’m here”, he reassured once again, “I’ll fix it somehow.” It was just as he thought: those damned higher ups.

“H-How? This is not… something… you can f-fix, Satoru… not even you,” you continued bawling into his shoulders. I’ll kill all the higher ups, he thought to himself. “I don’t know but I’ll be damned if I can’t do something to change this detestable, loathsome and bloody world we live in,” his voice seethed with anger but it quickly died down as he re-focused on the main topic at hand, “there has to be something I can do, I’ll even drag out Sukuna myself if I have to.” “Please, Satoru…” Your whisper was faint and weak, “I… saw Yuji’s corpse... on the ground... I just want to see him one last time…”

Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer undoubtedly put a heavy strain on your mental wellbeing; nobody was spared from it, not even the great Gojo Satoru. Unfortunately, you were one of the people who were much more affected by incidents like these. He realized how badly it hurt your heart, he knew how much all the students meant to you and he knew just how much more fragile you were than you let on in front of other people. Where there is light, there must be shadow. It wasn’t like he was left unscathed by it either but right now, his utmost priority was you.

“Right,” the male sorcerer murmured more to himself. He still had to check something. “I want you to show me your arms, please.” If this had been a command, it had to be the gentlest one you had ever heard. Maybe it was the fact that there was a hint of pain infused in the way he spoke to you just now that made you show your arms so willingly, or maybe it was the fact that he always sounded so earnest when he took care of you like this. He genuinely cared; it was something you shouldn’t be surprised about, considering how long the two of you have known and cared for each other, but it never ceased to leave you in awe. You held out your arms for him to see.

As carefully as possible, the man examined your arms, his touch ghosting over your skin. It was a good thing he came prepared. The angry red lines, dry blood and broken skin on both of your forearms seemed to scream at him: you hurt yourself again. Without a doubt, he felt guilty. “I’ll be right back,” he announced as he slipped away from the bed after fixing your position and stroking your hair tenderly. A few moments later, your tall friend was back with a few medical supplies. Sitting back on the bed, he started to clean and treat your injuries. Besides a few hiccups and whimpers from your side, silence befell the room.

“Don’t you want to curse and insult me?” His eyes were still fixed on bandaging your arms. “No,” was all you said in response, fearing that your voice would give in. “You should though. After all, it was technically my fault...” Even though you were hurting, you knew Satoru was hurting all the same deep down in his heart, seeing that his precious students were the victims in this case. Satoru really treasured disciples. You took a few deep breaths before you replied, “Please don’t ever blame yourself for this… I know you wouldn’t have… let this shit happen. I know how much you adore them.”

“If it makes you feel better... if it can help you heal, I’ll take it. Any words are fine. I can deal with all the painful words…” Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest. It was rare but his voice… unmistakably cracked for a second. A shaky chuckle left your lungs, “Please Satoru,” you wrapped your arms around him as well and nuzzled into his shirt again, “I could never treat you like that. You are everything to me but an enemy. Have always been.”

“I’ll be anything you need. I’ll even be your enemy if you ask me to… so please tell me, so that it doesn’t hurt you anymore…” he said shakily. The blindfolded man had masked his pain up until now, for your sake. It was your time to comfort him. Giving him shelter, like he had done for you. He had already experienced far too much hurt.

“Satoru, all I’ll ever need you to be in my life… is the important and comforting presence you have always been. Don’t change. If things are too much, too overwhelming and you become tired, you can lean on me too. I will never leave you.”

There was nothing left to say, no need. It was enough for both of you to be in each other’s comforting presence.

Taglist: @gojos-mochi @megumifushi @bleueluna

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #angst #gojo satoru angst #song fic #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #tw: death #tw: mentions of death #tw: mental illness #tw: self harm #taemin #inspired by taemin #shinee #ibye series

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hrina · 5 years ago

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In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #eeeeeee okay here it is!!! i love this part a LOT so i hope u guys do too 💘#harry writing #boxrry

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thecandywrites · 3 years ago

Text

Blood For Gold Chapter 20

Ah, now the truth shall be revealed! Time to show our cards and see where they will lay. So I actually wrote this chapter and the chapter to follow BEFORE I wrote the Kamoba battle chapter because I was overwhelmed trying to pack all of that information and detail into a chapter that read that way and not like the notes of a deranged lunatic from the inside of a padded cell. And writing this chapter and the one to follow flowed so nicely and it helped me keep the focus on the characters and their story lines and their arcs within a battle sequence and not get lost in the battle itself. Which was a struggle for me. Not going to lie.

@punkhorse96 and everyone else- enjoy.

Blood For Gold

Chapter 20

The moment all of you came down to breakfast and just before Gregori could announce the news of the case being dismissed from court, a messenger from Buckingham Palace arrived with a proclamation as all of you stood respectfully to receive it.

“It is ordered by her Majesty Queen Dowager Anastasia Raymond, that all occupants of the Palace of Windsor are hereby requested to go to Buckingham Palace for an audience with the Queen Dowager, His Royal Highness, His Majesty the King, as well as Her Royal Highness Queen Alexandria as soon as possible.” He read aloud before you all immediately disbursed and practically ran back to your rooms to dress in your best attire that you had before you came back down.

“Countess Audravienne Morrigan, you are requested to ride in the head carriage alone.” The messenger informed you as you looked anxiously at your family and Demsey who looked particularly anxious to have you leave his sight as you were only allowed to give him one last squeeze of his hand before the attendant escorted you away and into the royal coach of a carriage as you sat there, alone before you finally found you had the opportunity to read that damn journal as you opened it up and immediately started crying when you saw it was from Demsey two days prior.

You barely noticed everyone else get loaded up into the various carriages behind you as once everyone was loaded up, the whole caravan travelled towards the palace as your heart reached out to Demsey as you resolved in yourself that no matter what would happen at Buckingham Palace, if you did not make Demsey yours by the end of the day, you felt like you would die. Finally, after all this time and pain and hurt, you found what you were looking for, a gentle man who would love you without reserve, be faithful and loyal to you without question or waiver. Who didn’t care if you were penniless, poor and destitute or had nobility or not. All he wanted was you and you would be giving everything you had to him, no matter how much or how little that was as you read through it before pressing it to your chest and wiping happy, grateful tears from your eyes as the knowledge of his love gave you so much peace and comfort and was exactly what you needed as you regained your composure as you only had time to write a single line in it- in answer to the pages upon pages of declaration of love.

‘I love you too.’

Once at the palace you were taken out of the carriage and escorted into the audience room where the Queen Dowager and the King and Queen were seated on their thrones as the Queen Dowager’s Mage was seated nearby and on the other side of her was seated a second mage, a male one this time, as you handed the journal off and requested that it be put into Duke Demsey Voyambi’s hands and no one else’s before you entered the room and approached them.

“Your Majesties,” you greeted respectfully as you bowed low.

“It is a pleasure to see you again so soon, again, congratulations on your victory in the Kamoba battle yesterday Countess Morrigan or do you prefer the title of Sultana Saharazat?” The Queen Dowager greeted you formally.

“Whichever you prefer to use your Majesty.” You answered.

“Sultana Saharazat it is. Now, it has come to my attention that your correspondence has gone missing within the Royal Mail Service?” Dowager Queen Anastasia asked from her spot on the thrown that flanked her son’s, mirroring her daughter in law’s throne on the other side of the King.

“Yes.” You confirmed.

“If you will come forward and approach this table, I think you will find it has all been found and is hereby given back to you.” She offered as you obeyed and came forward as you noticed stacks of mail, organized by who sent what. So many letters from your parents, from your family, from your friends, especially Leumeni, he seemed to have written the most to you before you noticed your own letters that were meant to reach them, and none of them had been opened and they all looked as if they had been written only yesterday before you noticed more than just your mail was on the table, but letters from members of your own household to the Morrigans and Richard’s mistress, Myra as you noticed even more letters from Dr. Rickets to Gregori which was the most surprising to see along with letters from Richard to various members and masters at the Royal Mail Service there as well.

“Unfortunately, all those letters that you see on the table, they are all duplicates of the originals, since the originals were all destroyed by fire. These are just humble recreations of what was lost. We have proof and solid evidence as you can see from the letters on the table, that there are some directed from Count Richard Morrigan to the members of the Royal Mail Service. That is the proof that it was his direction that all of your mail coming in or out to you personally was to be destroyed the moment it touched the hands of the mail sorters and messengers.” She explained as you picked up the letters in question and read them yourself.

“Mage Bellfast, who is seated over there,” She continued as she gestured over to him as you looked over and nodded respectfully at him as he did the same to you.

“He was ordered by my son Gregori, to recreate all of them and I asked him to come to me and deliver it all to me as evidence and proof. Your own personal correspondence to and from you personally was never opened but all other correspondence was to gather evidence. And the proof of such sabotage is as you can see, very sizable. I wanted to tell you personally that because this involved my family and the Royal Mail Service and because it exposed it’s corruption, I am the one who dismissed your case in the public and even the private court systems and I hope you can, one day, forgive me. But I insist on giving you justice myself and dealing with this matter personally because a grave sin has been made against you and I insist on doing everything in my power to set it right. And I will serve as judge and jury, for surely you know that even I, was once a moura bride just like you. And such a slight will never be tolerated again and such a case of corruption can never be allowed to happen again. And may I also offer my deepest and most sincere apologies to you for such grievances and I hope that you will allow me to make amends.” She offered as tears flooded your vision, while a mixture of emotions seemed to wage war within you, part of you was relieved, at least for Jane’s sake, another part of you wanted to expose Richard and Agnes Morrigan for the monsters that they were for all of England to see. But you were not going to refuse this help by any means.

“Of course, thank you, your Majesty.” You thanked her as you did your best to wipe the grateful tears from your eyes as you saw that Demsey had even tried to write you a letter a few days before the ball, to warn you about who might be there and who would mean you harm.

“Now, Mage Bellfast as well as my own Mage, Mage Altissia have found your scene catcher spell and if you will forgive them, but they found your passwords, but let me assure you that I, nor any of the royal family have seen what was behind those passwords, only that they were there and only with your explicit permission will such footage be shown or it can be destroyed upon your decree, but, for now, if you would hold off from making such a decision before this entire case is heard out, I have all parties coming to assemble to so that everything can be sorted out with everyone and once the air is clear and all the sins against you have been exposed, then justice will be dealt out accordingly. Now, as far as I can tell, this involves Gregori, Yalin and their family and the entire Morrigan family as well, along with Dr. Rickets and the post men who Richard has contacted. I also have Dr. Chu and his wife, who is practically a doctor herself here along with five other physicians to serve as their own jurors along with stable masters from Dorierra to change your classification. And with your permission, I would like to call them some of them in now.” Anastasia offered.

“Yes of course,” you agreed.

“Call in, the physician-, Dr. Rickets and the post men, the entire Morrigan family as well as my son Gregori and his family along with Sultana Saharazat’s family in, at this time.” Queen Dowager Anastasia commanded before they came in, all at once from different doors around the room since they all had been waiting in different rooms attached to the main audience room so as not to cause a stir outside of it.

“You bitch!” Agnes screamed as the moment the side door was open and she saw you, she ran towards you before guards came and stood between her and you.

“Countess Morrigan! You will conduct yourself with the dignity of your station or I will strip you of it, have you whipped and then drawn and quartered in the town square!” Anastasia boomed as she stood from her throne as she glared down hatefully at Agnes.

“Sultana Saharazat is under my protection and any threat against her is a threat against the crown and comes with a death sentence and you and your family will be branded as traitors to the crown and everything you have will be awarded to her in retaliation, do I make myself clear?!” Anastasia snarled as Agnes realized the royal family was there immediately slinked back.

“I apologize, your Majesty, I did not think you would be in here but this woman is a...” Agnes did her best to try to excuse.

“You didn’t think that I would be in my own palace? Much less in my own audience room? Are you mad or a simpleton?” Anastasia demanded.

“Neither, just...careless your Majesty.” Agnes tried to defer but her face was as red as beet as Richard looked angry and ashamed as his mistress, Myra stood a decent distance behind them and looked particularly annoyed as well.

“Now guards, keep a line between the whole Morrigan family, the Sultana’s family and the Raymonds, just for good measure.” Anastasia commanded before more guards were called in as your family joined you as you reassured them that you were ok and that the Dowager Queen, was going to be acting as judge and jury in your case as your family was relieved.

“Many many thanks to you- your Majesty for dealing with this matter personally.” Your mother and Grandmother offered as they knelt down respectfully as was their custom.

“Do not thank me yet, we are just getting started, please, get up, also someone get everyone chairs so that they may be seated comfortably.” Anastasia commanded as she had you sit down at the table where all your letters were.

“Now, let’s start at the beginning shall we? Ramsey, what exactly did you say to your father at Sultana Saharazat’s wedding to Count Edward Morrigan?” Anastasia demanded as Ramsey’s eyes got as wide as saucers as everyone except for Axal seemed to be surprised at the news that all of this would start with him and not the Morrigans.

“I uh...well, you see at the time…” Ramsey fumbled over his words as he stood on his feet and fidgeted with his cuff links as Anastasia looked irritated as did the rest of his family especially his parents.

“Ramsey, for the sake of time, please just tell this audience chamber- you said to your parents that day?” Anastasia tried to gently coach him.

“That Sultana Saharazat was the perfect bride and that no one could match her.” Ramsey finally admitted.

“But I don’t see…” Ramsey began before his grandmother raised her hand to silence him.

“Now, Gregori, Ramsey is nearly forty, you have been on him to wed for the last two decades and in the last eight to ten years you have become harder and harder on him to find a bride, to get married and give your family line the legitimate heir it so desperately needs but you were stopped since Ramsey up until that point, has been a roguish rake clinging onto boyish foolishness as if it was his lifeline instead of realizing that it was his downfall and was going to be leading to his ruination, I believe the current lengths you had gone to up until that point was that if Ramsey had not found a bride that season you were going to cut him off financially completely and send him into the army to get the rakish ways beaten out of him one way or another.” Anastasia said with a hard look to her grandson who seemed to wilt under her intense gaze.

“But since then, I have found a bride, and I am leaving behind my rakish past and she is the one true bride for me.” Ramsey offered.

“And was it Sultana Saharazat?” Anastasia demanded.

“Well...no,” Ramsey winced.

“Right, so what I want to know was why you chose Sultana Saharazat on her wedding day to another as your bride?” Anastasia demanded.

“I chose her out of panic, because since she was getting married that day, she was no longer available and it would give me more time and I figured that when Edward would eventually die, I would have had enough time to grow up by then.” Ramsey confessed shamefully.

“So you deliberately chose a bride who was unavailable to put yourself and your parents at an impasse, thinking that they would stop hounding you and threatening you with the army if you chose one who conveniently was already married, by mere minutes.” Anastasia concluded.

“Yes.” Ramsey confirmed as his cheeks were also beet red as he looked at you apologetically as everyone in your family as well as his own actually groaned, along with the Queen Dowager, the King and the Queen herself as the King looked ready to strangle his nephew with his own hands.

“So you had no real feeling or attachment to Sultana Audravienne Saharazat, she was just a moura bride in a white dress at the end of the season and it was either chose an impossible option or lose everything?” Anastasia pressed further.

“Yes.” Ramsey nodded guiltily.

“And do you realize because you panicked and did that, that you are the reason Sultana Saharazat’s life was destroyed?!” Anastasia seethed as Ramsey’s eyes flooded with tears as he looked particularly mortified.

“Please! No! I had no idea!” Ramsey wailed as he shook his head no.

“How could Ramsey have known that the Morrigans would try to poison her with mourkatili! No one could have predicted that they would be so cruel and abuse her, thinking that because Edward Senior would have her that no one else could?!” Yalin insisted, coming to her son’s defense.

“No, nor could you foresee that your own husband, my own son, which after today, that may be up for debate and put into question, but that is a battle for another time. In an effort to give your son the impossible would go so far as to poison his own countrymen to death.” Anastasia revealed in a snarling growl as everyone gasped as all eyes turned towards Gregori who was unusually silent as he kept his gaze on his mother defiantly.

“Dr. Rickets, I believe it is your turn to tell the truth, the whole truth or you will be sent to the tower, drawn and quartered, your house burned after it is turned into a public toilet and your family turned out into the street.” Anastasia leveled at him as Dr. Rickets gulped.

“The day after Edward came home from his honeymoon, he had gone to town on business and had run into Dauphin Gregori Raymond and when the Dauphin questioned Edward Senior about his new wife and he had confirmed that she was the perfect bride, he sent for me. He told me of the encounter and gave me a sum of a thousand pounds if I would poison Edward Sr. with Wolf’s Eye to be mixed in with his regular medicine, Wolf’s Eye is known for causing delirium before it causes a stroke and with his old age, going senile and dying of heart failure would not raise suspicion.” Dr. Rickets answered.

“You took a bribe to kill my father?! To poison him?!” Richard roared as he stood up and pointed his finger at Dr. Rickets and had Richard been armed, you were sure Dr. Rickets would be run through from the rage in his voice alone.

“Yes,” Dr. Rickets confirmed as he could not raise his eyes to Richard out of shame.

“And when you discovered that he had been poisoned, I lied to you to protect myself and my family and put the blame on someone who would know poisons,” Dr. Rickets confessed.

“Which in that household only left me to be suspect.” You volunteered.

“So you asked for mourkatili but at the time the Dauphin was in Dorierra, trying to find Ramsey another wife, and the letter couldn’t reach him in time for me to find an answer and you said that if I did not supply you with mourkatili, that you would find another source so I obtained some, but I added Jade’s Crown to it, to help neutralize it’s lethality until the Dauphin could be reached.” Dr. Rickets tried to excuse as the whole royal family practically groaned and rolled their eyes in annoyance.

“Except that Jade’s Crown when mixed with mourkatili while it does lesson it’s lethality when first ingested, it does not neutralize it, instead it makes it lethally addictive so that the moura who drinks it is instantly addicted and will drink themselves to death trying to drink more and more of it which in turn can lead to madness in a moura with 77% of the cases studied to date it leads to the moura being completely deranged beyond repair, if you really wanted to neutralize it, you would have added Dragon Heart Flower which turns mourkatili from sweet to putrid, salty and bitter so that even the smell of it makes everyone want to vomit, if you were so intent on offering up Sultana Saharazat to the Raymonds, why didn’t you do that or go to the police at the very least to report that Sultana Saharazat was about to be poisoned?” Mage Altissia snapped angrily at Dr. Rickets.

“Because I was afraid, that if Dauphin Ramsey had found his bride once he visited the stables, that I would be found out, and I couldn’t risk the Morrigans knowing I tampered with the mourkatili, they knew what it smelled like and what it was supposed to look like, I could not use Dragon Heart Flower, because they would know that I knew too much about poisons instead of medicine and they would be suspicious of me and I would lose my medical license and my living as a doctor.” Dr. Rickets blubbered as he did his best not to cry and failed miserably.

“Do you think after this moment anyone is going to trust you with their health? If I went to the papers and even hinted to the editor to tell the gossip columns about this, you would be run out of England and all of Europa based on rumor alone.” Yalin seethed.

“And it’s not like Count and Countess Morrigan didn’t know that Audra was innocent. Jane informed me that when it was Audra who discovered that his medicine had been tampered with and tried to talk to you all about it, that she was dismissed and then accused of the very thing she was trying to bring to light and you repaid her by poisoning her in turn and how Jane, through her own snooping found the Wolf’s Eye and the Jade’s Crown in his own medical bag but yet you still did not believe her.” Charlotte offered with a pointed look to Agnes and Richard as Jane stayed by Rian’s side with your family because she didn’t want to be with the rest of her family for fear they would hurt her.

“And the fact that your daughter even now, shrinks back from you proves your own guilt of abuse.” Anastasia pointed out as she noticed Jane’s reaction to all of this.

“And the fact that you then accused her of being brainwashed by Audra and then disciplined her for just using her own mind and powers of deduction because Jane had investigated Audra herself and found that Audra brought no such things with her, says a lot more too.” Charlotte smirked smugly at the Morrigans as well as her grandmother.

“So, what happened after that Dr. Rickets?” Anastasia asked.

“The Dauphin sent a transmission via messengerari, and when I found out that Ramsey did not find another bride, I told him about what the Morrigans had done and what I had done to try to diminish it and then he told me to up the dose to Count Edward Senior and that he wanted to see Edward Morrigan’s obituary in the paper when he got back so that Ramsey would only have to wait another year before he could marry Countess Audravienne Morrigan. But I did not expect Edward’s body to be so strong. And I did not think he would hold on so long, nor abuse Countess Audravienne Morrigan to the extent that he did and I did not think that the Morrigans would be so determined to bury her with Edward.” Dr. Rickets confessed.

“So, your own doctor was bribed to poison your father and yet you blame the innocents in the situation and break the contract by trying to murder the very one who knew something was amiss. Why didn’t you go to the police? Why didn’t you have her arrested and investigated, why go through all the trouble of poisoning her and trying to kill her?” Anastasia asked RIchard and Agnes.

“We didn’t want to ruin our good name and reputation. Mouras are known to die of broken hearts, we thought it would be less suspicious if she died with him and we could pass the blame onto that.” Richard confessed.

“And bury your own guilt with her, brilliant.” Anastasia sarcastically praised as she glared down at them.

“But that wasn’t all your Majesty, the Morrigans have more sins that should be known.” Charlotte insisted.

“Well, no one in this court room can trust either of you to ever tell us the truth, I would like ask the only trustworthy Morrigan left. Jane. Before you speak, know that when and if you decide to do so. You have my word to be protected from those monsters over there that you are unfortunately related to. And if you are worried about your own name and reputation being called into question, know that I personally will guarantee your safety and integrity of your own reputation and if I have to invite you to stay at Buckingham Palace as my honored guest and ward, then I’m ready and willing to make that offer.” Queen Alexandria finally spoke up.

“And I second that.” Anastasia insisted.

“The first time my parents had the mourkatili served to Audra, it was in a tea, disguised as hibiscus tea with sugar and honey to hide the mourkatili. Audra took one sip and immediately knew she had been poisoned and called out for help but they bound her and gagged her and forced it down her throat. She spent the better part of a week being drunk off of it and then almost another week being hungover and refused any drink other than water and nothing even remotely purple in her food. The second time my parents tried to poison her, they had my oldest half brother Dale, who is my father’s mistress, Miss Myra’s son she has born to my father out of wedlock, who was only 20, come and serve it to her and my mother insisted to prove that it was not poisonous, insisted that he taste test it first and Audra could tell from the smell that it was mourkatili and tried to stop him but he obeyed my mother and the moment it touched his lips, he fell down dead. My mother tried to pin the blame for his death on Audra, saying it was her insistance that all of her food and drink be tested first to Myra who came to Audra and demanded to know what Dale had ever done to her for her to poison him. And when Audra tried to tell her the truth, she didn’t believe her. Then my father returned home from business and when he heard about it and saw Dale’s dead body being carted off, he had Audra bound and gagged and then he whipped her himself, even though I was just in the other room and saw and heard it all, And I had a messengerari in the room and captured the moment and it wasn’t until I made Myra and my father both watch it when they learned the truth. Myra apologized to Audra, by my father never did. Instead he then did the same abuse he did to Audra, he did to my mother only twice as worse. My mother couldn’t leave her room for two months after and could barely walk without the help of a cane because he had beaten her so badly, he nearly killed her.” Jane confessed as Ramsey was actually sobbing, feeling so much guilt and remorse as Axal wanted nothing more than to comfort him but the line of guards kept him from doing so as you watched as your own family stopped looking at Jane like the enemy, instead, looked at her with kindness and sympathy instead.

“So then, a month later, my mother tried to have my youngest half brother- George, who was only six, to come and serve Audra that mourkatili tea and tried to do it again only that time Audra, in an effort to protect little George, drank all of it down as quickly as she could so that he would not be harmed at all.” Jane revealed with a broken sob.

“Jane, show them.” You pleaded with her before she nodded and together you went up to the large mirror on the wall that was itself, a grand messengerari and put in your code to bring in the feed from your scene catchers for it to play out on the it before you put in your first password into the messengerari and then Jane put in the second as everyone watched as it all played out as you and Jane held each other and cried as you watched it all as you noticed that someone had gone through this and strung all the “best parts”, or “worst parts” depending on your point of view- together so that it really showcased just how horrible and vicious the Morrigan’s- besides Jane- were.

“This is an outrage! To have our privacy invaded as such!” Agnes screeched.

“Guards, will you bind and gag that wretch to her chair and handcuff that beast next to her...” The King, Leopold snarled angrily before they came and bound and gagged Agnes so that she was tied to the chair and couldn’t move as the rest of it played out as Richard looked fully ashamed and like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole and didn’t fight when irons were put on his, neck, wrists and ankles so that he was bound just like all the postmen who had also been brought in were.

“But your majesties, there is something missing from the record, where is the moment of Edward’s death?” Dr. Ricket’s volunteered.

“He had either a stroke or heart attack by your diagnosis and that happened while he was in the act of raping Audra, I helped her strike it from the record to at least preserve what little bit of dignity she had left.” Jane defended evenly.

“And that will be allowed and of course accepted.” Anastasia insisted.

“Absolutely.” King Leopold agreed.

“Indeed.” Queen Anastasia readily agreed as well.

“So, since it is clear that Sultana Saharazat is the innocent party and since she has paid for every bit of gold and wealth she has with her own blood, it is unthinkable that she should have to pay any more for anything else. However, in order to protect the Crown, the Dauphin’s involvement in this case can not be made public, so, Sultana Saharazat, what can Gregori, Yalin and Ramsey offer you in recompense for their involvement? Besides their deepest apologies and regrets?” King Leopold asked you.

“There are a few things I want from them. The first, I want Charlotte to be free to marry whoever she deems worthy, whether he be of high status or low. It is clear her parents enjoy a loving and wonderful marriage and I want her to enjoy the same with someone who she wants. The second is I want Ramsey to be free to marry Octavia Lafronze and I want her own fee to the stables for her and her companion, Katardrina to be paid as well. I want my brother Axal to marry Katardrina but stay close to Ramsey and Octavia since the four of them are very close and I do not wish to pull them apart. It is clear to me that Ramsey did not intend for any of this to happen and he made a mistake and neither he nor anyone else could foresee how desperate his father was to see him married. And the fact that he has shed so many tears of guilt and remourse, I know he does not take this lightly and I believe he has learned his lesson and will never make this mistake ever again. Gregori and Yalin have been nothing but kind and compassionate and generous with me while I have stayed with them. But now I feel that they only did so out of guilt, at least on Gregori’s part, because they knew they provided the figurative spark that ignited the forest fire that happened at Broadcove. Third, my griffin Heavencrest has mated and paired with their own griffin Charlico. I would like him to be mine so that Heavencrest and Charlico may stay together and fourth, at the ball at Havenfield, Ramsey, in friendship offered that I and the other mouras who came from Dorierra would be elevated to Dowager status, and I want those promises and guarantees to be fulfilled, So I want everyone who has come from Dorierra up until this point in my case, either male or female, to be given Dowager status and any who wish to stay in English society, I would like for them to receive titles of Nobility, they do not have to be high, but I would like them to be high enough that they all can move about in high society with ease, if they wish to.” You answered.

“Audra, please know that at least my children and I had no idea of Gregori’s involvement and I want you to know that all kindness and consideration from them and myself, was always genuine, of course you can have Charlico, I will give you his papers the moment we get home, please is there anything else we can do?” Yalin offered and you could tell she was being genuine.

“I will let you know when I think of something else.” You offered.

“Thank you.” Yalin thanked you graciously.

“Now for the Morrigans, let’s revisit your case, because it does not stop here. You actually bribed four members of the Royal Postal Service to destroy every piece of mail Sultana Saharazat sent out and every piece she would receive and you hired a mage to cast a spell on your own lightning rods so that it would disrupt the signal from every messengerari not only on at Broadcove and Mirador but it was so strong that it made all your neighbor’s messengerari’s cut in and out for the last two years. The fact that you put into question the integrity of the Royal Mail Service was the reason I dismissed your case from court. But as you can see Mage Bellfast was more than happy to duplicate every piece of mail that you ordered to be burned and Mage Altissia provided the rest. But if that wasn’t enough, you had your mistress, send her own children, your own bastards as servants in the Sultana’s household to work for you as spies as you continued to pay them their wages that you had been paying them at your home while they collected wages from Sultana Saharazat as well. Your wife is one to talk about an invasion of privacy, when you yourself have been invading hers all along.” Anastasia insisted as you began opening the letters and read them for yourself, only to find about three months into your widowhood, how all of them told their father in their own way how they would spy on you no more, because you had treated them with kindness, respect and dignity and how he could keep his money, they didn’t need it or want it. But instead, that your own wages to them were plenty generous enough for them to have comforts enough to suit “the likes of them”.

“Except she turned my own children against me, they haven’t reported to me in over half a year! Practically nine months! And they keep sending back any money I try to send them, which is hurtful and deceitful in itself. She has deceived you all and she has clearly conspired with the Raymonds!” Richard tried to accuse.

“Did your nanny drop you on your head? Are you mad to make such an accusation?” King Leopold asked Richard who shut his mouth to keep from saying anything else.

“Nevermind answering that, I have come to my decision. Because of your shameless exploits and treachery. You will be stripped of your nobility. Since you both are guilty of murder as in the case of that wretch who goes by Agnes or attempted murder in both of your cases. Everything you have, all wealth, all connections, all property, business enterprises, investments, land ownership, everything, will be handed over to Sultana Audravienne Saharazat to do with as she pleases and she can turn your precious Broadcove into a public latrine for all I care. Both of you will be sent to the asylum for clear insanity, where both of you will not only be treated with Wolf’s Eye but Wolf’s Mane as well and both of you will rot in a prison cell going insane and because Jane has been with the Raymond’s she was not exposed to the sickness that caused both of you to go mad in attempts to bribe Dr. Rickets into giving you mourkatili to poison and kill the Sultana Audravienne Saharazat.” King Leopold decreed.

“Except for little Edward. He is only a boy, and is completely innocent in all of this too.” You offered.

“Very well, since Sultana Saharazat has spoken for him, he will be brought to be with Jane.

“Actually, your majesty, if I have a suggestion, if you like it, you can use it, if not, let things happen how you have directed them to.” You intervened again.

“Very well, what are your thoughts on this matter?” He asked.

“I have read these letters that all of Richard’s eldest children have written to him, rejecting him because if their father loved them so much, why would he put up with Agnes mistreating them so cruelly so that with just a little bit of kindness, respect and dignity from me- they happily switched their loyalties to me. Richard’s mistress, Miss Myra Bellafont, I wish for Broadcove may go to her. For she too has spent most of her life having to put up with Agnes, and was powerless to protect her own children from her partner’s wife, to the point that her own eldest son lost his life because of Agnes’ hate towards them. They were blameless in that they did not ask to have the father they do and they did not ask to be brought into the world or had any control over their circumstances and as much as Richard and Agnes made my life a living hell, I can’t imagine what they have made her go through. If at all possible, if she could be given a title, it doesn’t have to be a high one, but I wish for her and her children to inherit Broadcove and even though Agnes has treated Myra and her children with animosity, I know Myra doesn’t hold any towards Jane or little Edward and even Edward Senior was kind and partial to them while he lived. Even now the children of hers that remain at Broadcove are little Edward’s playmates and if Myra can swear and promise me as well as their Majesties that she will care for Edward and Jane well, I trust she will care for little Edward as well as she does her own little Geroge and I do not wish for Jane or little Edward to partake in their parent’s disgrace and I want the same freedoms that I have requested for Charlotte to be Jane’s as well, so that she can accept any offer of marraige from anyone she deems worthy as well, who will love her and treat her with kindness, respect, reverence and dignity, all of which she is just as deserving as I am.” You offered hopefully.

“Very well, Myra Bellafont, you are now awarded the title of Marquise, you have come from somewhere foreign, you are a wealthy widow and have bought up Broadcove once you learned that Count and Countess Morrigan had gone on holiday and contracted a disease that made them go mad and your own sympathy towards their innocent children have moved you to take them on as your wards and you are now their loving and caring guardian. The house is to be cleaned thoroughly and Sultana Saharazat will award you any businesses that the Morrigans have so that you may upkeep Broadcove and that income may provide for your needs and the needs of your children.” King Leopold proclaimed.

“Yes your majesty.” Yourself and Myra happily accepted as she curtsied deeply as Anges wriggled and screamed around her gag in her spot.

“Take Mr. and Mrs. Morrigan and Dr. Rickets to the asylum at once and turn these four traitorous men over to the tower.” Dr. Leopold insisted as he gestured to them since they had come in already in chains.

“But it was Audra who dealt Edward his death blow!” Dr. Rickets hollered as the hair on the back of your neck rose as your anger blazed as you gripped the dagger at your waist so hard your knuckles turned white as you wanted to stab him.

“You yourself proclaimed he had died of heart failure in your autopsy report before his body was buried.” King Leopold frowned as Jane and yourself looked at each other worriedly before your own desperation to never be afraid of this secret that you had given almost everything to keep hidden. But no more. If you were going to expose everything, you would not hold back.

“Your Majesties, I do not wish to live any kind of lie. I do not wish for anyone to ever hold anything over me or blackmail me ever again. So, I will show you the moment of Count Edward’s death and you can judge for yourselves, whether I was guilty or not of his death, but I ask all of you watch and really see all of it, do not look away, do not close your eyes and do not turn a blind eye to it.” You insisted as you held Jane’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as you gave her a reassuring smile as you both put in the third and final password that showed the truth as all of the Royal Family as well as yours watched in horror as Edward tried to rape you then once his flesh touched yours, he turned into a statue of platinum and fell to the bed and broke it, the crash echoing through the audience room as gasps were given by everyone except by Myra, Jane and yourself as it showed you in a panic, touching Edward and turning him to flesh again and then calling for Jane for help as you told her what had happened and how confused you were about it and wanted to know what to do as both of you called in Dr. Rickets to make a diagnosis and then to Myra and the servants to keep quiet about the crash as Myra herself brokered for you to take her own children with you when you would leave Broadcove as a widow and pleaded with you to be good to them.

“Audra, I would like to apologize, had I known that that was the reason for the crash I heard, that I never would have made that deal with you and I’m so sorry if my own children following you to Mirador caused you any distress, I never asked them to spy on you.” Myra offered as she wiped her tears from her eyes.

“I know, but Richard did.” You answered.

“So you did kill him!” Richard practically crooned, feeling vindicated and validated.

“Oh enough! Guard, gag him as well so that nothing else of a poisonous nature leaves his mouth, only enters it.” King Leopold ordered before Richard too was gagged with a handkerchief.

“No, she is innocent of murder because she didn’t purposefully do so because if she did know she had had that ability prior to that instant, don’t you think you yourself would have turned to platinum the moment you landed your first slap? It was self defense, surely you know enough of moura history and heard the tales that any one who dare force a moura to bed, would be turned into a pillar of gold by morning?” Anastasia defended you evenly.

“That was our protection for millenia. Audra did not intend for Edward Senior to die and had Edward Senior had his wits, he never would have done so to begin with. And now that you are officially branded as insane, you can scream such things at the top of your lungs and no one will believe you.” The Queen Consort- Alexandria replied to the Morrigans.

“I judge you innocent in all things, do not let this moment define you and do not let this moment stop you from living your life to the fullest.” Alexandria urged you warmly and comfortingly.

“I too judge you completely innocent. And hereby decree, that because you suffered at the hands of Richard Morrigan, Edward Morrigan Senior and by extension, Dauphin Gregori Raymond, all previous rulings will stand, and this doesn’t change anything except for one thing. I hereby promote you and all mouras who choose to stay in England- the noble rank and title of Marquess as well and award you personally, a living of twenty five thousand pounds a year from the crown for the rest of your life, whether you choose to remarry or not. And all others who wish to stay in the country, a living of ten thousand pounds a year.” He decreed.

“Thank you, Your Majesties, might we invite all the other Mouras in to tell them the news directly?” You requested before King Leopold nodded and ordered for Calla and her brothers as well as Benny and her brothers to come in along with Octavia and Katardrian as the messengerari was cleared to just show a mirror’s reflection yet again.

“So, the reason I have brought you all here today was to discuss Sultana Audravienne’s Saharazat’s case in the courts. Because of certain components of the case and sensitive nature of it, I myself put a stop to it going into the court system to keep reproach from coming to the crown. And with such concessions to protect the privacy of all involved, the Sultana has been reimbursed accordingly and hopefully to her satisfaction.” Dowager Queen Anastasia began.

“Yes, it has been settled to my satisfaction, thank you Your Majesty.” You happily replied as you and Jane smiled happily and with relief to each other as you sat side by side and still held onto each other because now, you both were safe, and more importantly, free.

“So part of the concessions and reimbursement that the Sultana asked for was that all of you from Dorierra, male and female alike, are now all considered Dowagers and are invited to stay in England as Maquess and a living will be awarded each of you for ten thousand pounds a year.” The King ordered as they all smiled brightly and happily.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” They all happily and excitedly thanked him.

“Now, call in the stable masters from Dorierra so that their masters may be updated to Dowager status.” King Leopold instructed before the stable masters came and took two at a time, starting with the adults just as Agnes and Richard were being led out along with Dr. Rickets as he too was gagged and bound.

“Marquess Saharazat.” Mage Bellfast approached you as you sat down at the desk and continued to go through all the letters there.

“Yes?” You asked.

“Again, I am Mage Bellfast, I was hired by the Dauphin to recreate your mail that was burned.” He reintroduced himself.

“Oh, yes, thank you so much. I can’t tell you how happy I am to have it all back.” You smiled happily as he offered his hand as you graciously gave it to him for him to kiss your knuckles in a very gentlemanly like manner.

“But I was hoping to get just the smallest of tokens from you in thanks.” Belfast began.

“Of course, what would you like?” You asked.

“For you to turn this bar of moura gold into platinum for me.” Belfast said as he produced the bar and put it onto the table in front of you as Mage Altissia practically ran towards you.

“Do not do that!” Mage Altissia demanded.

“Why not?” Belfast asked.

“Do you think she would give me moura platinum and not you? Surely you have something made from moura gold that she can turn for you.” Belfast replied calmly as you picked up the bar but nothing happened.

“No, because she only got the power once the mourkatili was in her system and since the Dragon Grevu healed her, thus her indigo violet hair, she has lost such capabilities.” Altissia offered as you blew out a breath of relief as you squeezed the bar with all your might but nothing was happening.

“Well that won’t do, will it.” Belfast before in a flash he hit you with a spell that knocked you backwards off your chair and your feet flying over your head and onto the floor which caused everyone to stop and stare and rush over to you.

“What did you do to me?!” You yelled as everyone watched as the indigo violet drained from your hair back into your scalp just as you found your feet, drew your dagger and aimed it at Bellfast’s throat before he used magic to stop your fist.

“Temper, temper.” Belfast tsked and smiled wolfishly as the golden dagger turned platinum white in your grips as indigo violet blood dripped from your nose as your eyes changed color from gold- to a glowing indigo violet as well as once again the mourkatili entered your body as you felt weak and fell to the floor coughing and sputtering, your blood splattering and staining the wood you stood on as your blade clattering to the floor with you.

“Mage Bellfast, what is the meaning of this?!” Queen Dowager Anastasia demanded as she and the Queen and the King came over to see for themselves.

“Well you saw it for yourself, she is a platinum moura now and I wanted my payment for all that mail and correspondence I had to conjure up.” Belfast explained.

“And since your Majesties have ordered for her and every other moura who came to England to have nobility and a very generous yearly income, wouldn’t it be fair for her to help mitigate that cost by turning any number of moura gold bricks you have in the place to platinum for you?” Belfast offered as King Leopold hesitated for a beat.

“Guards, have ten moura gold bricks be brought in.” King Leopold ordered as Alexandria and Anastasia both gasped in outrage.

“Leo that is uncalled for, hasn’t the poor girl suffered and given enough?!” Anastasia demanded.

“You said yourself that she shouldn’t have to pay anything to anyone ever again, this is going back on your word!” Alexandria insisted as she stared in horror at her husband.

“I’m just asking her to change ten small bricks of gold into platinum, then I’m sure Bellfast can cure her again and all will be well.” Leopold insisted.

“Now, if you’ll please.” Belfast insisted as he handed you the small gold bar as you touched it and watched with regret as it turned from gold to platinum before you hatefully gave it back to him before you turned and walked over to where your grandmother’s dagger had clattered away as you picked it up but when you touched it again, it turned back to gold, before turning to black ash in your hands and disintegrated in your hands as all the jewels fell through your fingers and fell to the ground as everyone else screamed to see your hands now stained black just as Bellfast took the platinum bar in his gloved hands and made the fatal mistake of kissing it, the moment the bar touched his lips, his whole face began to be eaten away and turned into black ash which caused everyone to give Bellfast room as they watched helplessly as Bellfast completely disintergrated into a pile of black ash and clothes, the platinum bar now landing in a heap.

“The plague! You have unleashed the golden plague again!” The Dowager Queen screamed in horror at Leopold as she struck at him.

“Your Majesties, I can explain this phenomenon. Because Audravienne unlocked her platinum abilities once the mourkatili was in her body, that means that only when she has mourkatili still in her system can she turn moura gold into platinum, but that also means that all platinum she turns has the same properties as mourkatili. So, I would not advise for her to turn anything else into platinum, and for her to return to where Grevu is and become healed again, then all will be well, besides, the “cure” that Mage Bellfast gave to Gregori was not infact a cure, but it would make everything Audra touch turn into deadly platinum and she would surely die of starvation.” Mage Alitssia insisted before you went over and picked up the platinum brick and watched as it turned from platinum white- to gold but then black ash almost instantaniously once again.

“Guards, disregard that order about the gold bricks. As soon as they have all been classified as dowagers, they are free to go. My apologies Marquees Saharazat.” King Leopold offered as he looked both fearful yet apologetic before he ordered for that mess to be cleaned up immediately before the Voyambi’s finally came into the audience room to see the King, the Queen and the Queen Mother leave quickly through one door as the Morrigans had already been carted off in chains which was a relief to see before they came in to see you standing there with blackened hands but with golden hair again with a pile of black ash at your feet and on your dress.

“What happened?” Demsey asked as he approached you before the masters returned with your parents and your grandmothers and your hier father and his wife and his mother in tow as they all had their masters rolled up in their hands with big bright smiles as the smiles immediately fell when they saw the scene.

“Addie? What happened?” Your mother asked.

“I unleashed the gold plague.” You whispered before you were called back by the masters of the stables to be reexamined by them and the group of doctors with them as you explained to them what had just happened in the audience room with Mage Altissia’s help.

“Unfortuantely Sultana Saharazat, because of the mourkatili and because of your affect on moura gold, we can not give you the status of Dowager, the best we can offer you is Tavnit and until you are healed, you can not set foot back into Dorierra.” Master Ophelia offered apologetically as you closed your eyes and let your tears of disappointment fall.

“That’s fine, I accept.” You nodded as it was put into your master and stamped in as your hands were washed clean from the ashes as you walked away and went over to Dr. Chu and his wife to get reexamined by them as Dr. Chu took your blood pressure and his eyes went wide.

“Mei, take her blood pressure and pulse.” Wen insisted in Mandarin to his wife before she did as he asked as her eyes went wide.

“What is it?” You asked them softly in Mandarin to keep your conversation private in the corner.

“My Lady, you have the happy heartbeat.” Mei informed you with big wide eyes and a serious face.

“I what?” You asked.

“You are pregnant, about three and a half weeks to a month along.” Dr. Chu diagnosed as Mei nodded in agreement to that diagnosis as you searched your thoughts back before you remembered- that last night with Demsey Draft, at the Masquerade ball, you were so heartbroken, that you forgot to order the pregnancy warding tea. You did not drink it that last time and apparently that was all it took.

“Can I get rid of it? Surely it’s too early…” You tried to ask.

“No, this is why Grevu healed you. I can tell by your chi, aura and energy readings. His magic is protecting this babe from all harm, even now, the mourkatili is not harming it at all, it’s being shielded and protected.” Mei explained as she waived her hands over your abdomen to feel the variations in energy as tears flooded your vision. To be so close to finally being with Duke Demsey Voyambi and Demsey Draft planted an obstacle right into your belly and you loved Demsey too much to try to pass this on as his, even if you married him today, the baby would come a month too soon. And while Mr. Draft and Duke Voyambi shared a lot of the same features, surely you couldn’t live with yourself if you passed this baby off as his. You needed to get out of here. And fast.

“Say nothing, to anyone.” You pleaded with them.

“Of course.” They readily agreed.

“Thank you.” You thanked them as you hugged them tight before you bowed in respect to both of them to honor them.

“I have to go.” You excused yourself as you left the room and the moment you saw Demsey, as much as you wanted to run into his arms, you couldn’t and it felt worse than a thousand stabs to the heart as you came out into the audience room with your master rolled up in your hands as you went over to your family and revealed what had happened with the stable masters as they too started crying.

“Leumeni? Why are there so many letters between you and Audra?” Kiera asked as she picked a small stack of them up and looked them over.

“We are just close friends, that is all.” You tried to excuse as you grabbed the letters out of her hand as you readily got a bag and hurriedly dumped all of your mail into it to keep anyone else from looking through it.

“Yup, just close friends,” Leumeni did his best to deflect just as you heard Benny scream out a ‘What?!’ in horror and outrage.

“What the hell?” You asked as Benny came storming out of that room.

“Leumeni! Coravien! Come we need to go home! Now!” Benny demanded angrily in Marinai as she stormed out of the examination room before you went over to Dr. Chu and his wife.

“What was that?” You asked them in Mandarin.

“She has the happy heartbeat too. Grevu’s snot made the seed from the sex she had the night before the Kamoba take root. His magic is protecting her babe just like yours, but until he lifts his magic, she has no choice but to bear the babe. Even now she is going to plead with him to lift it so she can kill it.” Mei answered as you gasped and covered your mouth with both hands as Sierge came over to you.

“What is wrong with Benny? What are they saying?” Sierge asked you.

“Uh, Sierge, you need to go back to the Palace of Windsor and stay with Benny and do not let Benny approach Grevu until she tells you exactly why she wants anything to do with him.” You advised him with a gesture to your belly as if you were stroking a very pregnant belly as Sierge’s eyes went wide when you made that gesture before he fled Buckingham Palace to chase after Benny.

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Chapter 20 #regency era orc period drama #regency orcs #orcs #orc love story #orc romance #monster boyfriend

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multimetaverse · 5 years ago

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Jamie Johnson 5x05 Review

If you were a fan of Andi Mack or Doafp you should check out the pretty great British show Jamie Johnson which just launched a coming out story line for one of its main characters and covers a bunch of other important issues. Let’s dig in!

My reviews will feature spoilers from throughout the series and if you’d like to watch the story from the start there are only 3 eps in the 1st season, 10 in the 2nd and 3rd, and 13 in the 4th and 5th with casting and writing already underway for a 6th season. All the eps are available on the CBBC website if you live in Britain or have a VPN. You can also contact @tkstrand for access to the eps (just don’t tell Scotland Yard). A big thanks to Mike for introducing me and so many others to Jamie Johnson and single-handedly starting the fandom. I highly recommend watching all the eps from the start; Jamie Johnson is a very charming show that tackles a lot of important issues in the guise of being a show about soccer and the show has gotten better each season and the writing shows no signs of stalling or declining. The acting does start off really rough in S1 but has improved markedly and some of the actors are very talented though overall the acting is closer in quality to a show like GMW or No Good Nick than Andi Mack or Doafp. In fairness, a big reason for that is that the show has to spend so much time on soccer games and practices and the kids are actually pretty good players; so good in fact that for S4 the actors actually entered the 2018 Gothia cup in Sweden and did extremely well. Jamie Johnson is in many ways a British Andi Mack but with a British Gary Marsh who is much less of a censoring shithead and a British Terri Minsky and crew who are better and more consistent writers

Tonight was a big night for reformed bully and star soccer player Dillon Simmonds. He’s the closest analogue to TJ Kippen the show has though unlike TJ he’s a main character and has been in the show right from the pilot; in some eps he even gets the 2nd credit after Jamie. 5x05 was in many ways a callback to 4x05 which was the first ep that had subtext for gay Dillon. 4x05 also introduced most of the characters who will play a big role in Dillon’s coming out story line: Ruby Osborne, her biological sister Alba, her foster moms who are a married lesbian couple, Dillon’s younger brother Liam, and Dillon’s father. S4 is really when Dillon Simmonds becomes a hashtag good boy and his arc is focused on him getting out from his Father’s incessant pressure to go pro though there is some delicious gay subtext in eps 4x11-13

The show’s always been good at setting up plot points in advance, like Dillon’s diabetes, Wozza’s ADHD, and Duncan Jones’ shadyness, but those plots were set up and then addressed all in the same season. I don’t think it’s that surprising that the gay story line is the exception. It’s very likely that the writers didn’t intend Dillon to be gay until they set out to write S4 and they likely didn’t have full permission to go ahead with it until S5. It’s also likely that their original plan for exploring Dillon’s sexuality was going to involve Ruby trying to act on her crush on Dillon; 4x13 set that up and then in 5x01 Ruby tells Zoe out of nowhere that she’s over Dillon and only sees him as a brother and wouldn’t you know it, she doesn’t even think Dillon looks at girls in a romantic way!

Thankfully the show is going in a much better direction with the introduction of Elliot. He’s already been fleshed out with a personality and hobbies like astronomy and magic (for his next trick he’s going to make Dillon’s heterosexuality disappear). I was shocked at how flirty the Delliot scenes this ep were, not just because they were gay scenes but also because the show really has not had these kind of scenes before for any of the straight characters either. Even Jamie hasn’t had more than pretty clear hints that he likes Jack and wants to be with her. I don’t know if it’s because the show is targeted towards an audience of young men or if there’s a cultural difference across the pond but there’s consistently been very little romance of any kind throughout the series. If this had been an American series, there’s no way that Jamie wouldn’t have had at least one girl he went on a date with or something, even if it was only a brief thing. It’s refreshing in some ways and it means that the show has to look elsewhere for drama and angst

Dillon is obviously drawn to Elliot and thinks he’s cool but he has quite the reaction when he learns that Elliot is gay. He runs to tell Ruby that she needs to cut it out with Elliot because he’s gay which is clumsy writing because Zoe had just told him that Ruby told her that Elliot is not in fact her new boyfriend but is her new gay foster brother. They obviously needed to show Dillon’s strong reaction to the news but also needed a way to come off as kind of homophobic but my own theory is that Dillon wanted to make sure Ruby didn’t waste her time pursuing a gay guy like Sienna Jones had wasted her time trying to pursue Dillon in S4. As the show hasn’t really focused much on romance I’m not expecting much to come of Delliot especially since they have a built in escape hatch with Elliot only being in care until his mom is out of hospital but I am looking forward to what happens with them this season and what will happen with Dillon in the remaining seasons this show has

I think this was the least that Jamie has been in any ep. One thing I really like about this show is that they’re not afraid to have main characters miss an ep or two unlike American shows that usually have to have mains appear in every ep even if there’s no actual story for them. From the S5 trailer it looks like Jamie will get really into e-gaming while his broken leg heals after he was accidentally run over on his 16th birthday by his deadbeat dad Ian Reacher. I would assume that Jamie eventually gets back into real soccer but it does promise a lot of drama between Jamie and grandpa Mike who has always been Jamie’s staunchest supporter

Duncan ‘’Big Dunk’’ Jones, former pro soccer player turned silver fox and head of Phoenix FC, took a big step forward in redeeming himself for trying to scuttle Jamie’s career with Hawkstone by appointing Jamie’s mom Karen as the new head of wellness which fits with the CBBC announcement that S5 would in part focus on mental health

Alba once again lost her cool during a game. It’s clear that a lot of her anger issues stem from feelings of abandonment as well as the constant uncertainty and rapid changes she’s experienced as a foster child. The show has always been good at showing how what’s going on with the children in their home lives affects them at school and on the pitch, like Jamie acting out because of his dad walking out on the family and Dillon being a bully to try and fit into the role his dad wants him to play. It’s very interesting that they’re now bringing back Liam Simmonds to begin his redemption arc as he was the first to make Alba lose her cool by attacking her foster moms at his father’s instigation way back in 4x05

To the show’s credit, they’ve always been firm in showing how awful bullying and homophobia are and all the soccer teams in the series have shown a zero tolerance policy for it. It’s a different world in many ways from North America, I couldn’t imagine an American show about football or even a Canadian show about Hockey that would plausibly show a zero tolerance policy for bullying and homophobia

Looking Ahead:

Next ep features Liam’s return to Phoenix FC after Alba accepts his apology for his homophobia. His redemption arc will be interesting to watch especially as it;s certain to tie in to Dillon having to face up to his father who is the avatar of toxic masculinity and homophobia. Perhaps it will take Liam defending his brother to make his father see the errors of his ways

Not sure who will take over coaching the U14′s now that Mike has said he’ll be stepping aside

Zoe faces another talented black player who she clearly does not respond well to. Zoe has always been hyper competitive and worried about losing her place to another female player which in part stems from the stress she’s under as her ill mothers primary carer. Good for Zoe for getting through to Howard Royle about Hawkstone lacking a women’s team

5x07 looks like it will be a huge ep for Dillon and Delliot and it seems likely that Dillon will snap after realizing that Ruby and Elliot think he’s homophobic and will come out to Elliot. Should be good

Until next week Jamie Johnsoner’s

#Jamie Johnson #Dillon Simmonds #Delliot #Andi Mack #Doafp #Elliot #Ruby Osborne #Alba Osborne #Mike Johnson #Jamie Johnson Reviews

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generalhamsterdancer · 4 years ago

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Sooo... About Free!

I need to talk to other people who don’t necessarily like Free! Like, don’t get me wrong, Free! is good. It’s good. It has really adorable characters, who are sweet, and angsty, and fun, and you can really immerse yourself in the anime and feel connected to the characters when they win their tournament or whatever...

When you watch it as a Slice of Life anime (in my opinion)

But if you watch it expecting a Sports anime, it... It’s not the best. (I’m sorry, but that’s my opinion, if you don’t like it, I understand. Seriously. You’re entitled to your opinion, and your opinion matters!) But, like, I think Free! isn’t a... Incredible Sports anime. Mainly because of the plot. (LEMME EXPLAIN)

So! Free. Free has this pattern of setting up story arcs/character arcs for the characters that seem really serious and Sports anime-y, but then the pay off isn’t as serious/realistic??? FOR EXAMPLE: Makoto’s fear of the ocean. On the Free! Wiki, it says that he has Thalassophobia (a fear/phobia of the ocean and/or deep bodies of water) which sounds serious, and I’d expect, since he and Haru walk home on the beach every day he’d be anxious then. So why didn’t they show that? Like, why did they set up Makoto’s Thalassophobia ONLY during the training camp arc? Wouldn’t there be instances during swim practice, that he felt anxious? I don’t expect he’d be very anxious during high school, but when he swam in elementary, I feel like he’d be nervous to swim. Y’know since the experience is still raw at that time.

And, (spring-boarding off of that query,) How long did it take for him to cope? Did Haru help him overcome his fear in the beginning? Or did they drift apart a little, since Makoto couldn’t swim/be comfortable in the water anymore, and Haru was fine with it?

Then, finally, at the end of the training arc & his arc, Makoto is just... FINE. Like WHAT? Why is he just OKAY with the ocean after it all, just because “he wants to swim with his friends” and “he’s okay if his friends are with him”, like...

What I’m saying is, living with a phobia since childhood and then suddenly being fine, just because your friends swim with you (Not only in high school but also in elementary, probably, because he was swimming with his friends then, no problem) doesn’t sound realistic to me. But I get it. I can understand the counter-argument: “But Makoto is okay with swimming in the ocean with his friends because he feels protected by them/empowered when they’re with him.”

But it doesn’t sound realistic, when you consider the set up.

OR! How quickly the swim club was created. Like... REALISTICALLY it’d take a lot to create a swim club. It’d take more than finding & recruiting all the members, getting a manager, and fixing the pool. (I have no experience, but I feel like it’d take more than that.) And, the characters, despite their built physique, probably would struggle to get back into swimming/start swimming. Realistically speaking. Like, besides HARU (because I’m sure he swam whenever he could) Nagisa and Makoto probably would have struggled to get into swimming again. Because Makoto hasn’t swam in three (school) years because he and Haru quit swimming after their first year in middle school. And Nagisa hasn’t swam since elementary school. And Rei, I think should’ve struggled to learn how to swim butterfly correctly. (Not just swim butterfly, but swim butterfly correctly. Because learning to swim is one thing, but swimming correctly is another. Like, refining your stroke in consideration of drag, and endurance and all that)

So, I say this all to say that Free! is a Sports anime and Slice of Life... that doesn’t juggle the two genres as equally as it could've... I think.

For reference, I'd recommend watching Bamboo Blade: another sports and slice of life anime.

The reason I recommend this anime as a way to see how Sports/Slice of Life anime can be effectively executed is because:

(a): It’s plot doesn’t revolve around a character arc (getting Rin to love swimming again) or nostalgia (building the swim club), but it instead is literally about a coach who gathers together a Kendo team to win in a competition to get free dinner. That’s it. And it’s a simple plot, a simple goal, because its a slice of life anime. And slice of life anime shouldn’t be held to the same emotional/deep plots as sports anime. (not to say that Free!’s plot isn’t good. it is. It just needs to pick a lane: either slice of life with little to no consequences, or sports anime with realistic consequences, struggles, and emotions.)

(FOR EXAMPLE: (sorry, I promise this one will be short,) When the boys break into a swim club, that’s the kind of behavior you’d expect from an emotionally charged sports anime. But when they get their just desserts, when the random teacher scolds them for breaking and entering, they get let off the hook without any disciplinary punishment or a call to their parents or anything. Just like slice of life. And the reason why this doesn’t work, (again, in my opinion) is because breaking and entering is a felony. So it’d hard for me to believe these characters can just be let off the hook for a crime like that. (Sorry again, this rant wasn’t short at all))

and (b): The anime (Bamboo Blade) just isn’t very serious in general. Perhaps I’m only saying this, and am more accepting to the kind of shenanigans that happen in this anime, because it’s all girls instead of all boys, and girls in slice of life anime tend to act silly and childish, which is supposed to be seen as cute. However, that doesn’t really work with boys, especially when, in Free, the plot is so emotionally charged and serious, it makes the silliness out of place?

What I’m saying is that Free should’ve been a sports anime with a serious plot and deep character growth, OR primarily a silly slice of life anime with casual sports to make the plot interesting. I think it’s main issue is that it’s trying to be both.

#Free!#free! iwatobi swim club #free iwatobi swim club #free eternal summer #free dive to the future #free take your marks #unpopular opinion #i hate free

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justimajin · 4 years ago

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In the Imajining of: It’s a Reverse Basket

We’re back at it again! For those of you confused, this is basically my behind the scenes segment where I share the ‘imajining’ process of my stories.

For this series, I’ll be talking about:

The Initial Idea

The Characters

The Baseline Story

The Overall Series

Let’s get it!

The Initial Idea:

Would any of you believe me if I said this series wasn’t meant for Yoongi at all? Once again, another member was my initial choice but after furthur developing the idea Yoongi ending up fitting the storyline more. Let me explain.

The first concept I had for this series is pretty similar to what it ended up turning out to be - girl dresses herself as a boy to get into a basketball team and falls for the captain. I got inspired after reading a lot of manga and noticing the gender bender trope was quite common. I decided it would be interesting to have my own take from it and so the idea for this series was born.

However, the story would have been completely different if we had Captain Jeon instead of Captain Min and boy, would it have been really different. Jungkook was originally going to be this very rude and stoic captain and the mc would have feared him until he started to chill lol. It sounded like a good idea at first but I wasn’t really in love with how the main couple was turning out. Additionally Jungkook was going to be known for hating liers and that would have put the mc into a even worse position, which I wasn’t a fan of either.

So the whole concept was scrapped and I started shifting gears over to Yoongi. I thought he would have suited the role as captain wayy better and watching a couple of video’s of him playing basketball confirmed this more for me. I was really surprised with how fair Yoongi is with playing the sport and that helped spark a better image for the team’s captain. I also thought changing his character would immensely help the mc’s character and in ways support the growth she goes through (oof a couple loving and supporting each other’s dreams? sign me up)

The Characters:

> Y/N: For any of my old readers, I think it’s obvious to say that the mc’s personality here is considerably different compared to past ones I’ve written. One trend I noticed through all the manga I read was that the mc’s were typically extremely naive and somewhat clueless. I did think traits like these would fit Y/N’s character since her position of being in an all boys school with this secret that can be slipped out anytime leaves her with a lot of ‘uncertainty’ in that sense, but I wasn’t up for her being too clueless. In an indirect way, I wanted Y/N to be strong and sensible to deal with everything she goes through and I think her character turned out exactly how I wanted.

> Yoongi: Oh my god. Not going to lie, I had the hardest time writing this boy’s character lmao. I’ve only ever written one fic for him and that was His First Love (shameless self plug here if you’re in need of some heart-wrenching angst) so you can say I’m not very used to writing about Yoongi. He’s the member that’s the most different in BTS and I really wanted to capture his personality perfectly in the story. This led to a lot of thinking on my part and I constantly had to ask myself: What would Yoongi do in this situation? I also have the tendency to observe the member I’m writing about a lot too, so you can say I did my fair share of “research” on him for his character (and by research I mean watching a bunch of compilations on repeat. #no regrets made).

> The Four Weirdos Taehyung, Jungkook, Hoseok & Jimin: I was really keen on choosing characters for this and looking back now, I think I made the right call. My motive was to create almost a warm and welcoming atmosphere for Y/N when she first enters the school because 1. She’s already scared af from being there and 2. She’s aiming for competitive basketball, which means by default she won’t surrounded with what one would call the nicest of people. It was important for me to choose her roommates properly, because these two people would be the ones constantly around her and the ones closet exposed to her secret. After a lot of contemplation, I decide to go with Taehyung and Jungkook in the end. I’ve explored their dynamic a bit in His First Love and I found their duo was a bit iconic. I also discovered that there was more I could do with them in this story so I decided to go forth with them being her roommates. Hoseok and Jimin then became their neighbors and together, their group of five had a nice balance of characters that I was looking for.

Also just a side-note about Jungkook’s character: he actually retains a lot of what his character would have been like as captain. I just toned it down more so he wouldn’t come off as harsh but just highly focused on playing basketball instead (which also ending up working because you know, Jungkook). He’s also very aloof because of this, which is why he never really tries to probe about Y/N’s identity and leaves it all up to the troublesome trio instead lol.

> The Coach and The One You Wanted to Punch Namjoon and Seokjin: I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to write Namjoon’s character in a more involved way since Yoongi took some control of the practices, but nevertheless I’ve always found that Namjoon is great to write in admin characters. I also wanted to expand an arc about him and Taehyung a bit, showcasing some of the struggles Taehyung has gone through just to be at the school as mentioned in Chapter 2. I decided to drop this because the story needed to be concentrated on Y/N more, but I thought I share this tidbit so you guys know where I was thinking of going with that segment of the story.

Moving on to Seokjin - I freaking loved writing this guy’s character haha. And I’m not saying this because I’m biased, okay? I just think he really suits negative characters so well and he’s so cheeky that you’re left confused whenever he pops up. I wanted to write him in such a way where he retains that joking and charming manner of his but at the same time, he’s the type of guy you want to just maintain some distance from for precaution. His rivalry with Yoongi, his interest in Y/N, his playful banter with Taehyung and Jungkook - it all tied in so well. I also wanted to keep his character in the loop towards the end and that eventually his differences would become resolved, but Taehyung and Jungkook would still highkey be annoyed by his random presences lol. I also hoped his sudden appearance would spark a lot of attention in Chapter 10 (which it did, of course. It’s Kim Seokjin!) because he’s the only character that’s introduced mid-series.

> Hyerin, Soyoung, The Jackass That Ruined It All: So these characters were thrown in during the planning stages and they’re all extremely important. I’ll start off with Hyerin.

Hyerin was a character I didn’t know I needed until I figured out Y/N’s character. After coming to the understanding that Y/N’s going to be this timid and naive person that’s going to be hiding a secret from everyone close to her, I realized she would need someone to almost confide in when things got tough. I’m not saying that Taehyung and Jungkook weren’t great friends, that’s the complete opposite of they were, but Y/N needed someone that she didn’t need to hide from. Hyerin also helps with the fact that Y/N’s entered a new school, so she really isn’t sure when to let her guard down around people and if she didn’t have a friend with her, she could have ended up feeling lonely. Hyerin is also veryyy vocal too, so when Y/N needed a voice, I wanted her to take up the opportunity instead and express things Y/N had difficulty with saying herself (remember that flashback scene from Chapter 9?). So yeah, Hyerin wasn’t a character I didn’t originally come up with but more so needed in support of Y/N.

Soyoung. This girl’s story is a lot more messed up than you would think haha. I conceived two idea’s for her and didn’t like either of them, so she ended up being the friendly but strict doctor that kept popping up lol. The first one involved Hoseok, in which she would be a close friend of his sister’s and they would grow up knowing each other. Later on, she bumps into him at the school and starts falling for him, but doesn’t say anything because she loves his sister a lot and doesn’t want to compromise their relationship. You can see hints of this story in Chapter 3 where Y/N faints and her friends go to visit her. Hoseok introduces Y/N to his sister in Chapter 11 where you would see this play out more, but I decided to scrap this after the chapter was really focusing on what Y/N was going through. I’d like to think this idea lowkey happened in the background, and in my mind I would still correlate Soyoung and Hoseok together.

Now, the second idea I had was, well, bad. lol. Soyoung could have ended being Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend guys. Damn, I’m getting cringe from just thinking about this again. So basically Soyoung and Yoongi were going to have some unsaid moments between them and then later Y/N would notice and Yoongi would tell her the truth. Y/N wouldn’t really be bothered by this because homegirl has enough on her plate with school and basketball but Soyoung would be and would try to cause problems. I’m still not a huge fan of the “bad ex comes to ruins your hopes and dreams because of their unresolved problems trope” so I ended up rejecting this idea and I am so glad I did.

Moving on, let’s talk about the jackass lol. This is the guy from Chapter 9′s flashback and who appears in Chapter 20 again. He’s basically the guy that ends up spilling the beans for Y/N. I didn’t give him a name because I wasn’t hugely fond about his character at all, but he’s important in the sense of reminding Y/N of the past, which Hyerin mentions wasn’t the greatest because she wanted to play competitively but was stuck being part of the girl’s recreational team. So it was important for this guy to pop up once again and for Y/N to confront him during a game in order to move on from thinking she couldn’t fulfill her dream of playing competitively. Her family also influences this, but we’ll touch on that soon.

The Baseline Story:

Alright, so I added this segment as a way to highlight parts I wanted to talk about more, as well as add in some neat unknown facts:

>> Chapters 1-4 are meant to set up the series and get majority of the characters introduced. The part to highlight here is Yoongi giving a second chance to Y/N in joining the team after she falls sick. This moment was extremely important for Y/N since now knowing what happens in the whole series (her family, the old boys competitive team) she was strongly discouraged to play basketball. In a way, Yoongi was the first person to actually support her and in return, he felt she belonged on the team and wanted to see her grow as a player.

>> Chapter 5 was the shortest chapter but I wanted to highlight the end of it. It’s the part where Hyerin cuts Y/N’s hair for her. Although this was meant in a way to help Y/N not having to wear a wig all the time, this moment was also to show the lengths at which Y/N is willing to go just to play competitive basketball. Even though she doesn’t show it, Hyerin constantly reminds her of how much she’s going to miss her natural hair.

>> Chapter 6-9 is where the reveal of her secret shenanigans begins. This ends with Jimin almost finding about her identity and how he completely falls off the mark with guessing what’s actually up. I wanted to highlight here that Jungkook was originally supposed to find out and I was so close with going through with that idea. He was also supposed to keep the whole ordeal along the way and secretly help Y/N, but for some reason I don’t think that suited his character very well. So I instead chose Jimin and it ended up leading into some awesome bits of comedy.

I also wanted to point out that this was the part where Yoongi slowly begins to get closer with her. I really wanted Yoongi to find out her secret and for her to be aware of this early on in the series since this helps Y/N a lot in these parts. Yoongi covers for her when she can’t and in return, Y/N feels a lot more calm when he’s around.

>> Chapter 10-11 is the part where Seokjin first appears and Yoongi x Y/N have some issues going on. I think this part was the hardest for me to right because I didn’t want to seem like either of them was wrong in any way, but at the same time show that they seriously needed clear out what was going on between them. I don’t think I’ve shown this kind of conflict between one of my duos and it was strange to write, but I honestly think it did a lot good than bad (maybe I should make my duos fight more, hm).

>> Chapter 12-16 is the initial progressions of Y/N and Yoongi’s relationship. It’s cute, it’s sweet, and it’s just meant to highlight what they’re like being a couple. My personal favorite is actually Chapter 13, which is when they go out on their first date. I remember contemplating a lot for this chapter, since I wasn’t sure on what place would be the best to draw something more out from these characters. You have to think of this way - both of them get flustered easily and aren’t the most vocal people, so I have to throw them into situations that helps them feel comfortable and open up more. So ultimately, what did I end up doing? Got them to go watch a basketball game together because it’s their natural domain and Yoongi’s teaching side would instantly activate. (apparently I’m a first date consultant now so if anyone would like some assitance hmu).

>> Chapter 17-18 is the part where you get deeper into Y/N and Yoongi’s characters. After the cute initial stages of their relationship, things get tense. I start this off with Yoongi bringing Y/N over to his family’s house, a thing that seems harmless at first until Y/N’s visits and realizes something is up. From meeting his family to issues with his dad, I really wanted to show that there was stuff going on in the background with Yoongi as well, stuff he didn’t necessarily try to sort out and instead ignored. Y/N does end up noticing and helps him here, but in Chapter 18 it’s shown it’s actually because she understands it. She has a similar situation going on but it’s even worse on her side, so she doesn’t hesitate in trying to make things better for Yoongi as she doesn’t want him to get to the point of her situation. Later on in Chapter 18, Yoongi also sees the similar effects and comforts her about it, understanding her better in return. I felt this part in general was extremely for me to properly write and communicate, because it was a strong turning point for both of them and for their relationship, taking what the previous chapters started off and making it into something deeper.

Chapters 19-20 and the Epilogue are basically just the combined ending, so there’s not really anything there for me to highlight.

>> Random Facts: This just popped into my head as I was browsing but the dorm that Y/N, Taehyung and Jungkook live in is 613, which actually means June 13th, BTS’s debut date. Uhh Y/N was originally supposed to mistake Yoonji for Yoongi and there was going to be a lot of mayhem going on regarding that, but I didn’t like all that chaos going on during a game so I went for the opportunity of developing Y/N’s character more instead. Yoongi’s jersey number is 9 which correlates with his birthday and Y/N’s is 7, which correlates to their recent album + apparently as an angel number, is known for being unique and positive, ironically also good at being secretive and keeping secrets (yes, I actually did research about a number lol). That’s all that comes to mind right now for me in terms of facts.

The Overall Series:

My lasting impression of this series is a very good one. I think I was genuinely surprised around this time since I was able to write 21 chapters without getting exhausted (something that often happens when you write for too long) and really enjoyed every part I wrote. This series ended up turning out a lot better than I initially would have imagined and in a way, I think I actually improved a lot as a writer through it.

#this series is definately going to remain memorable to me #for several reasons #but I really do appreciate all the love it recieved #it actually got overwhelming at one point and I had to keep asking myself #that do my readers really like this series??#since by most #i was expecting a lower volume of response #so thank you #for making me feel so happy about writing this

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ranma-rewatch · 4 years ago

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Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

AAAAAhhhhh! After 10,000 years, I’m free! Time to watch more Ranma 1/2! We’re getting ready for the middle part of what I guess you could call the Kodachi introduction arc, and like I intimated last time, she’s not exactly my favorite character. That said, I am interested to see how this can play out over the course of two episodes, so next paragraph I’ll have watched the episode.

Uh, so, I don’t think an episode has surprised me by being this much better than I was expecting so far in this rewatch. Like I said before, low expectations, but I really enjoyed this one. The episode starts with Akane and Ranma heading to school on the day before the marital arts match, only for Kodachi to show up and attack Akane.

This has nothing to do with the match, though. She literally just came by to see Ranma, who she has fallen completely in love with, but decided to attack Akane on-sight because why not. After Akane literally throws her at Ranma, he is suddenly confronted by our old friend Tatewaki Kuno, who is surprised to hear of Kodachi’s affection for this rapscallion. After a few seconds of thought, he makes it clear Ranma has his permission to date her, but when Ranma snaps about now being asked about this, Kodachi gets sad, feeling like maybe Ranma hates her.

Trying to avoid her wrath, Ranma runs and hides behind Akane, pointing out that he is her fiance, which would put a hamper on dating. When Akane confirms this, new stakes are given to their upcoming fight: if Kodachi wins, she gets Ranma. Kuno is totally down with that, since with Ranma out of the way, he sees himself easily winning Akane’s (and Ranma’s) affection.

It’s as Kodachi runs off, laughing, that Kuno finally reveals why he jumped into this conversation in the first place: Kodachi is his little sister. He’s aware that she has quite a few terrible qualities, and so warns Akane that she is likely to cheat quite a bit before and during their fight. As he walks away, Ranma and Akane reel from this family revelation, and Ranma notes that he can actually see the resemblance now.

From there, we cut to Akane practicing that night in the dojo with Ranma. She’s clearly gotten a lot better, though makes it clear the new stakes have nothing to do with why she wants to win so badly. Just as Akane notes that she hasn’t had Ryoga’s assistance in training for the last few days, or seen P-chan, the piglet runs into the room, carrying evidence that he’d been in Hiroshima and Kyoto. (Fun fact: my best friend went to Hiroshima while she was studying abroad there!)

There’s some banter over Ryoga’s reappearance, but then Akane trips on a tool, injuring her ankle in the process. It’s bad enough that Kasumi makes clear there’s no way she can play in the match, which means they need a substitute to avoid giving up. They consider that they’d need to find someone with great marital arts skills, who is really acrobatic, and looks like a girl. All eyes go to Ranma just as Ryoga enters the room, having once again used Soun Tendo’s hot bath to change back to human, and throws cold water on Ranma.

He offers to train Ranma through the night, though it’s clear quickly that Ranma’s general skills do transfer pretty well. The only big hurdle is that in Rhythmic Gymnastics Martial Arts, the fighters aren’t allowed to deal direct blows, only use their themed weapons to fight. Akane observes at first, but they both tell her to go and get some sleep, which she ends up agreeing to. Once she’s gone, Ryoga gets serious in fighting, and reveals why he’s really doing this: he wants Ranma to lose. If he does, Ranma has to date Kodachi, which leaves Akane open to date him. He’s not trying to spar with Ranma, he’s trying to injure him bad enough that he can’t fight.

Akane wakes up the next morning and quickly hears the fight is still going on, heading into the dojo to find they’re going at it, though they’re both clearly exhausted. Oh, and the dojo is wrecked. Ranma is delirious from lack of sleep, and almost falls for a thumb tack in the hand trap from Kodachi when they go to the match at her school. Meanwhile, Ryoga is amazed to find that he’s managed to get from Akane’s house to the school without getting lost, and chalks the miracle up to the power of love. There’s another trick from Kodachi in the dressing room, and Ryoga is hit by random cold water while trying to get to the gymnasium, leading to Kodachi kidnapping him for some scheme.

Soon, it’s time for the match to begin, and Kuno is watching in the stands, ready to root for his sister for what he admits is the first time ever. Kodachi descends from the ceiling in a wedding dress while having rockets fired at her new opponent, all very on-brand for her. Ranma is asked what his name is, and he just gives them his real name, to Akane’s confusion. The Kuno’s both just take this as Ranma somehow having the exact same name as, well, Ranma, and some of their classmates in the crowd notice that they do look alike, pondering on how they’re connected.

The fight goes to start, but Kodachi begins by dazing Ranma with a twirly ribbon and an onslaught of black roses, then uses that opening to attach a chain to Ranma’s wrist. On the other end of that chain is P-chan, which Kodachi thinks will ensure she ends the match. But we don’t get to see that yet, because that’s for next episode!

So, a lot of thoughts, actually. First things first, I feel like this is the first episode of the series so far that’s really gone whole-hog into what a lot of people think of as the series’ main premise. For this whole set-up, Kodachi loves uncursed Ranma but hates Akane and cursed Ranma, Kuno loves cursed Ranma and Akane but hates uncursed Ranma, and Ryoga loves Akane and hates Ranma whether he’s cursed or not. This creates a network of alliances that all work against Ranma and Akane’s wishes. He doesn’t want to date Kodachi and Akane wants to get a victory for her school after Kodachi unfairly beat up the actual gymnastics team.

It all feels very farcical, in a good way. Throughout this rewatch, there have been times when the humor doesn’t really land for me, usually because it just gets too silly for me, if that makes any sense. But this worked perfectly, it was all very character driven while also being deeply ridiculous. Things like Kuno having the sense of mind to see that his sister is a weird one while not being cognizant of his own strangeness kind of brought it to earth in a way, and it was all just a good time.

I also quite enjoyed a lot of the animation, the changes to character designs, and the general dynamics on display. There was something weirdly smooth to how Ryoga entered Akane’s room and put his arm around Ranma’s shoulder that just felt cool to watch. The facial expressions in that scene, and throughout, were also in top form. The way he goes from clearly coming in with an ulterior motive, to revealing what he’s really up to, it all felt a little more devious than we get from Ryoga, but in a good way.

I’m not usually a big fan of leotards, but, uh, Ranma and Akane can both really rock them. (I’d also love to see uncursed Ranma in one, I’m sure his butt would look just as good.) Akane showed up to the match dressed like a ringside coach, and it just radiates powerful butch lesbian energy. The referee to the match is also dressed in a pretty masculine way, and similarly gives off wonderful vibes. Just a really aesthetically pleasing episode for me.

The pacing was also really tight. A lot of stuff got packed into the episode’s runtime, and I’d love to compare it to this section of the manga to see if that’s because it’s a particularly dense storyline or because they made the decision to just stuff the episode with as much manga as they could. We’ll get to my rating after the Character Spotlight, but this is just a treat of an episode, and one I have to say again that I wasn’t anticipating in the slightest. Major kudos to everyone who worked on this episode.

Okay, so, now let’s do a Spotlight on Kodachi. The big reason I held off on doing one last week is that her last name hadn’t been revealed, and her Kuno-ness is kind of a big part of who she is, I didn’t want to wait for the next time I decided to give her a Spotlight to cover that part of her.

Alright, so, as usual, let’s start with voice actors. In English, she actually had three different VA’s over the course of the series run. I’ve actually decided that, going forward, with cases like these I’m just going to focus on who the current voice actors are, and talk about the new ones when they appear. Her first actress in my native tongue is Teryl Rothery, who is actually more well known for her live-action work. She appears to play a main character in Stargate SG-1, which I have never seen, and has filled the role of Jean Loring in Arrow. (Which I have seen, but never noticed that Ray Palmer’s ex-wife was in the show in the seasons I saw of it.) In Japanese, she’s portrayed by Saeko Shimazu, who has actually played a role in every Rumiko Takahasi anime adaptation from that era, so that’s neat.

They definitely play the character a little differently. Shimazu is genuinely fantastic at playing Kodachi as the well known anime archetype of the Ojou. The way she does Kodachi’s laugh might be the best Ojou laugh I’ve ever heard, and she’s generally good playing the character oddly seriously. Like, if you didn’t know Kodachi was a dangerously violent person, her voice acting would just make you think she’s a soft spoken, very feminine girl. It fits her whole aesthetic really well, honestly. Rothery went in a very different direction. I feel like it’s hard to think of Kodachi as anything other than a villain in her voice, she’s more clearly malevolent, like a Sailor Moon villainess. Her version of the laugh is a lot more unhinged sounding, for lack of a more appropriate word.

That kind of leads into one thing I was kind of surprised to notice. It feels as though the Dub and Sub versions of this character differ quite a bit. In the English Dub, they frequently use words like ‘crazy’, ‘unstable’, and ‘mad’ to describe Kodachi, and in a way it kind of dominates her characterization. I’ll talk more about that in a minute, but I’ll say for now I had to sigh at those bits. But imagine my surprise to see the Sub instead talk about her being ill-mannered, stubborn, tenacious. As far as I can recall, they didn’t use any mental health-related words, instead just focusing on the idea that she will do anything to get what she wants.

This creates two fairly radically different versions of the character, at least for me. And I actually greatly prefer what I’m finding in the Sub. Kodachi there is played much more as a dark mirror to her brother. Ranma might say they’re the same, but they clearly aren’t. Kuno is a jerk, and doesn’t seem to take the objects of his affection’s input. But he also, at the very least, sees himself as honorable, a man of culture, and doesn’t seem like the type to cheat in a competition.

Kodachi has no such scruples. She is utterly ruthless, while also sadistically delighting in causing pain to other people. She is, in a way, defined by the fact that she is constantly trying to cheat, to get any victory she can, even while acting as though there’s nothing wrong with what she does, that’s she’s just a beautiful girl doing what she has to. The way they each fall in love with a different form of Ranma, while hating the other, is also a nice touch.

That was all a lot of nice stuff I said, but sadly it’s alls I gots for ya. Going back to the whole ‘crazy’ thing, that’s definitely the thing that, at least growing up, dominates her character. As far as I can recall, the fandom generally thinks of her as the ‘craziest’ of all the main cast, and that’s...not very good? I feel like, at least among some sectors of culture, we’re trying to be more aware of other people and trying to take in feedback, and ableism feels like one of the last big areas where a lot of people, even those who are otherwise far left, struggle to get past their prejudices. I’m including myself in there, I screw up all the time. But yeah, I think we need to kind of think a lot more about the ‘crazy’ tropes in media, especially the ones that associate with violence and evil characters. So far at least, I don’t really have a lot to dig into with Kodachi especially, but it’s something I’ll have in mind going forward.

The other area I feel like I have to rain on this Spotlight a little is just what Kodachi brings to the dynamic of the show. Which is mostly...not a lot. Of all the main characters who are a part of the primary love dodecahedron, she is the one who feels like could generally just not exist without impacting anything. She basically just does what Kuno does, but in the opposite direction. Ranma is going to end up with a lot of suitors, and someone else generally fills the role of ‘violent and amoral’ much better than Kodachi, plus she’ll be appearing pretty soon from where we are now. At least as of now, Kodachi is a character I find doesn’t hurt the show at all, but also doesn’t particularly make it better.

If it wasn’t clear from all the gushing before, I really liked this episode. But how much? Where does it fall among the ranks of all the episodes I’ve seen thus far? After some careful consideration, I think I’m actually going to put this at the number two spot. It really was that good, I have very little bad to say. The only reason it didn’t take the top spot is that I just love episode 7 too much. That makes the current standings:

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’

Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

This has been a really fun one! Next time, we’ll be covering lucky episode number 13, “A Tear in a Girl-Delinquent's Eye? The End of the Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!”, which will also be the ending to this little arc. I’m excited to join you then, and see if that episode fulfilled the promise in this episode’s set-up! See you all then!

#episode 12 #A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!#ranma 1/2 #ranma saotome #akane tendo #ryoga hibiki #tatewaki kuno #kodachi kuno #anime analysis #anime rewatch

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stonerbughead · 4 years ago

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Maria watches friday night lights (#31)

5x08 (I watched this ep and 5x09 last week and have been busy since but I am in the last arcs here and I never want it to end meh!)

all the recapping and flailing and reacting under the cut:

Aw Vince’s first interview! The quality of the tv they’re all watching!!! it reminds me of childhood omg

Vince’s dad is pulling him away from the teamwork attitude and more about him....yikes this is not cute and Jess is cringing. Same gurl.

“You barely talked about anyone but yourself.” Yepppp you right, Jess! No stop defending him, dad, ughhh

Is Becky too freaked to fuck Luke in his house where the terrifying anti choice mom lives? Bc I feel that. And last time they fucked she had to have an abortion they caused a townwide scandal! Like I get it gurl! do you, go slow!

“Oh how DARE he!” Me when TA Fuckface shows up at the door.

“PUNCH HIM!!!!” Me at Eric

Oh yeah he escorted Derek off the property, yes! Get out of here, you predator fuck!

Oh shit the rest of the team is making fun of Vince’s interview and tryna bring Jess into it lol

“I mean with a face like this how could you not, right?” Oh honey no, yeah that fell as flat as it should.

Oooop Epyck’s fighting again! “I’m on your side here, but you gotta help me.” Oooop and she asked for Tami’s sandwich and there it is—she’s food insecure?

What nonsense is Billy doing?? Showing the defense team a “pre war dance” —definitely culturally appropriation of indigenous culture and cringe af?? Absolutely not lol

Aw Buddy Jr. got hurt!

Omfg now TA is showing up at Tami’s office????? enough!

Talking to her is not the way to make this right, fuckface! You resigned? Cool now fuck off and out of Julie’s life!

Lol MAMA MINDY TIME with all her friends encouraging Becky to enter a beauty pageant I love it

Ew these illicit recruitment lunches with Vince and his dad and old creepy white dudes make my skin crawl

I’m sorry, so—they’re bringing two conventionally attractive women to tour Vince around? Yikes—college rally girls?

“I should have gone to college” says Vince’s creepy dad as he stares at 19 year old girls GROSS

AW Becky didn’t tell Luke about the pageant?

“When we win you have to sneak into your boyfriend’s room with only a tiara.” Lol I love all the girls hyping Becky up.

Oh shit they didn’t know about the previous abortion? Aw she’s crying and opening up to Mindy and her friends, my heart!

“I lost my virginity in the back of a truck I mean who does that” and they’re all like UH ME?? Lol Texas

Oooh Vince blew off practice for recruitment and didn’t tell Jess? Or is she covering for his ass?

Is there someone taking a photo of Vince on the field or am I crazy

Ew all this talking in Vince’s direction to be overheard on purpose so they don’t *technically* break the rules is so scummy!

Omg Tami found Epyck fighting on the street and was like, get in my car! Hilarious.

“You know what, I’m gonna feed you right now, is what I’m gonna do.” Are you sensing a pattern?

Ugh Epyck talking about how there isn’t a lot of food to go around at her foster home, my heart!

Aw she doesn’t want Tami to call social services bc she’s finally doing ok with the help of Tami WOW

Eeeek Vince talking about the visit is yikes! Jess telling ar him that it’s against the rules, ugh this is so rough

“There won’t be so many distractions.” You mean teenage girls to prey on, Derek??

Stop telling Julie she’s gonna realize y’all had a “rare” connection she’ll later look back on as she gets older! First of all, as she gets older she’ll realize even more how predatory and not okay you pursuing her was, and second of all, she HAS experienced rare connection but not with you, sir, with Matt Saracen! Amen.

Now Julie, go off on TA Derek in this restaurant like he deserves. Rip him a new one, punch him, you know

Lol really, ARE you getting a divorce? Wild

Ew don’t give her your address in Tennessee after telling her to go back to school!

Ewwww their hands touching on the piece of paper with the address. Gross gross gross please let this be the end.

Lol Eric and Tami shoving at each other fighting over who’s morning it is to get Gracie, classic.

Yay Julie’s going back to school?! I love how she apologized and Tami was all yay I’m so proud and Eric was like can you make some coffee 😂

How dare he! Omg Vince is blaming the recruitment visit on his mom’s addiction???? Does Eric know he’s lying?

Epyck lied about her foster home sitch, ah

Aw the little ones love Epyck? Her backstory with parents who died from AIDS and living on the street oh poor babe

YESSS I was right about the photographer on campus! They did get a photo of Vince at Oklahoma Tech!!! Aghhh

Damn Vince’s dad has really drilled this very individualistic mindset in and it’s not cute.

Omg Mindy and her fellow Landing Strip workers getting ready for the beauty pageant! Love it?

“I actually like you. No, look at me: you’re strong and you’re smart and you’re feisty. I believe you have a future.” OMG TAMIIIII I love you, I love that Dillons girls like Epyck have her looking out for them.

Yesssss Becky having the loudest, most raucous cheering section at this pageant is so adorable!

Lol all of them booing when Becky got second runner up I’m dying

“I think you should take a hard look at the company you keep.” Fuck off, old white lady, they’re way cooler than you’ll ever be!

“You don’t hit my quarterback when you have that red shirt on.” Oh shit Luke is pressing Vince about Oklahoma...yeah everyone else on the team has had it with Vince at this point.

Aw Julie is really leaving to go back to school now?!

Eewww Derek called Julie “to get her back,” not to go back to school??? What a douche! “That’s what I thought,” she says then turns around??? Plz tell me this means she’s leaving Derek behind for good!

Oh god it’s gonna be another showdown between Eric Taylor and Vince’s dad huh? “I won’t have any one player bigger than my team. He misses practice again and I’ll bench him.”

Oh god his dad knows Eric is being called by the colleges too??? Well fuck!

Aw Becky leaving a lil sharpie note on Luke’s car windshield? Cute.

Lol Billy is getting in a fight with the old school coach! This team is falling apart!

Oh god a classic team fighting as they’re supposed to be coming out at a pep rally shot! What a trope!

Aw Buddy jr. on his crutches in his jersey

Everyone’s faking it, everyone’s uneasy, and the music is playing as they show everyone—

“I want to introduce the man who taught us to have pride in East Dillon again: Coach Taylor.” And then the camera flashes to Vince’s dad watching him well DAMN

YESSSSSS JULIE’S IN CHICAGO??? Omg so I was right; TA Derek’s thing about special connections totally made her think of Matt!! He looks so GOOD and delighted to see her!!!

Ok I’m going straight into the next one now xo xo

#maria watches friday night lights #mine #matt x julie #friday night lights 5x08

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lnarizakis · 5 years ago

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haikyuu: sparknoted | all about hinata shoyo

masterlist

all about hinata shoyo

foreword: Hi, everyone! I’m so glad you’re reading this. I’ve always wanted to do an analysis series of Haikyuu!!, and I think now that I have so much free time on my hands, this is the perfect time to start. I decided to start out with a character analysis on Hinata Shoyo, since he’s the protagonist of the series. The three topics I will cover are: his character, his character development, and the final arc. The topics about his development and the final arc contain spoilers, so beware! Please enjoy, and everything I say is left up for debate, addition, and correction!

HINATA’S CHARACTER

NOMENCLATURE | Since we are talking about a character, we should look at his, well, character. This kid’s name is Hinata Shoyo, and according to the Wiki, his name means “Place in the sun/Sunny place” (Hinata), and “Flying heaven” (Shoyo). Part of his last name, Hina, means a chick or a baby bird. We should know by now that the meaning of his last name is intentional - multiple times he is referred to as the sun in the manga and anime. He is often compared to Tsukishima, who is referred to as the moon. Like Hinata, he was given that name also with intention. I’m pretty sure the story mentions this, but the reason Hinata was given this name was because of how much he shines. Not just because of his personality, because of course, he is a very bright person, but his whole character shines. He radiates - the effects of his “sunshine,” per se, is found in the character development of multiple people - Yachi, Kenma, Hyakuzawa, Kageyama, and even Tsukishima.

MOON AND SUN | I’m going to side-track and talk about the relationship between Tsukishima and Hinata for a little bit - the story mentions this, but it’s worth noting and it leads into what I’m going to say next. Tsukishima and Hinata are like night and day, respectively. Hinata is bright like the day - he shines and radiates the sunshine off on other people. They bask in his light and become better people because of it. Tsukishima, on the other hand, is more lowkey; he prefers not to talk to people rather than to interact, and, initially, he has no interest in improvement. Plants don’t grow during the night (I will refer to this analogy later). The point is: one can only see the moon when sunlight reflects off of it (I think that’s how the moon’s brightness works; all I know is that the sun’s light is involved lol). Therefore, the effects of Hinata’s presence and his “shine” has affected Tsukishima so much that he is able to shine even “in the night”. So besides Kageyama and perhaps Kenma, Tsukishima is one of the people to be most affected by Hinata’s personality.

APPEARANCE | Okay, now I’m going to talk about Hinata’s appearance. He’s short, he has orange hair, and always has the brightest smile on his face. Except when he has to make a point like “We haven’t won yet,” where he’s got that awfully creepy and sinister smile on his face. But I’m going to get back to that. First- his height. When we first get to know Hinata, the very first note of his height is where he stands at 162.8 cm/5’4 ft. (April 2012). He’s as tall as I am! But he’s not tall enough for volleyball, and he is constantly looked down (literally and metaphorically) for that fact. His opponents, and even his teammates, don’t realize the hidden potential that hides within Hinata. So it becomes ironic when there are people who are taller than Hinata, and they “look up” to him. Notably, Hyakuzawa. During the first-year’s training camp in Season 4/To The Top (AKA Ball Boy Arc), there’s a scene in which Hyakuzawa is sitting on the ground while leaning against the wall. He’s looking up at Hinata, who stands in front of him. He tells Hinata that he should have been invited instead of him, which is very ironic because when Karasuno played against his school (I don’t remember which school oops), he was seen as this very intimidating guy despite his lack of experience. Anyways, the point is - despite Hinata’ s height, he makes up for it with ability and talent, to which others who are much taller than he is are just in awe, and perhaps jealous, that he could go past this misfortune of his and strengthen his other skills instead.

ELEMENTS OF HORROR | “We haven’t won yet,” Hinata says, with the most sinister smile on his face. No, man, it’s not sinister. He’s just in the moment. Of course, he doesn’t mean to pull off that kind of scary face, it’s not in him. Yet the face he makes, along with the tone of voice he uses when saying those four words, just gets people. It chills them right to the bone because it’s so unlike Hinata yet it is so like Hinata. He is the type of person to persist on and encourage himself and others just by saying “We haven’t won yet,” but he doesn’t make that type of face. So… why does he make that type of face? The reason is the author’s choice. Furudate loves horror and drew Hinata’s face with a sinister expression. That’s the simple reason, but I believe there is so much more to that. Furudate could have based his entire style on a horror-like manga, despite it being quite out-of-place as it is a manga about volleyball, but if that’s what he wants, that’s what he wants. However, he chose to draw that particular scene with a horror-type feel because that’s what the others see. That’s what everyone who watched Hinata say those four words saw. His expression, his eyes… everything about it chilled them to the bone and Furudate wanted it to make it clear to the reader that that’s how we are supposed to perceive his words. Because if he drew it any other way, it would have come off as Hinata jumping up and down exclaiming with a super-happy voice, “We haven’t won yet! Let’s keep going, guys!” But no- it’s supposed to be creepy because everyone else saw it as creepy.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

SPOILER WARNING! | This section is very spoiler-heavy! Please don’t read this section if you do not want to be spoiled for the outcomes of the nationals!

THE BALL BOY ARC | I will be covering Hinata’s character development all throughout season 4 because I think that this is the most important development to Hinata’s character. I’ll begin with the Ball Boy Arc, where Hinata must swallow his pride after entering the first-year training camp uninvited. Of course, Hinata had good intentions when he arrived, but he did not realize the consequences of his actions. Before, when he heard that Kageyama and Tsukishima were invited to these training camps, the first thought that ran through Hinata’s mind was “Why wasn’t I invited?” Yes, Hinata realizes his strength and the growth he has made throughout the time he had been practicing volleyball, but it seemed to him that he just wasn’t good enough. Upon arriving at the training camp, Coach Washijo immediately denies him to practice with the rest and so Hinata swallows his pride and announces himself as only the ball boy, nothing more. This is important because he is actually telling everybody there that he really just is not good enough.

KAGEYAMA’S SUPPORT | Coach Washijo tells Hinata that he is no good without the support of Kageyama. This comes across as a slap to the face for the poor boy, but I believe the coach told him this for two reasons. One, Washijo does not want to admit to the fact that Hinata is definitely strong and is an amazing player, but, two, Hinata is not strong without Kageyama and so he therefore cannot participate in a camp where Kageyama is not there to support him. This opens up Hinata’s eyes and he realizes that he must not rely on Kageyama all the time; after all, Kageyama is his rival. I don’t know if I’m right on this, but this is one of the two times where Hinata trains and learns without Kageyama’s help. The other time was when he practiced with Coach Ukai, the senior. If I’m wrong, please let me know!

HINATA’S COLLAPSE | Progressively throughout Season 4 we see that Hinata gains lines under his eyes. I saw two twitter posts that mention these- the first about how they could be “crow’s feet,” and the second about how they are lines of exhaustion. I agree with the second post. Throughout the season we observe how hard Hinata works and that sometimes he pushes his limits. He calls his coach to ask him about what he should eat, but I don’t know if we ever see him eat what Ukai tells him to eat. If we do… then, okay then. Lol. Anyways, not only are his eating habits being rearranged, it is also assumed that Hinata bikes home very late at night every day during the training camp at Shiratorizawa. He goes home with his heart pumping so he probably goes to sleep at an even later time. So Hinata also has a bad sleep schedule, and you know how hard it is to try and revert a bad sleep schedule… Hinata is also shown at times during nationals to be wide awake at night. With this, we can tell that he is exhausted. He is tired and in need of a rest. But he doesn’t give himself a rest, because all he wants is to prove to others, and himself, that he is good. And this leads to his downfall- his collapse in the middle of the Kamomedai VS Karasuno game. Hinata catches a fever all because he couldn’t take good care of himself. It’s so unfortunate, but it’s another wake-up call for Hinata that tells him that good things take time to come. He can’t magically hone his skills overnight.

THE FINAL ARC

THIS IS IT. IT’S REALLY THE END. | Ah, the final arc. We are so close to the end of Haikyuu!! and it makes me so sad to think about it every time. The final arc is the last match of the game. It is no coincidence that it is the last time we see Hinata use the restroom before the game. It is also no coincidence that many things that happened during Hinata’s first game are happening as well - Hinata meets Kageyama again at the restroom, he breathes in the smell of icy-hot spray, and, of course, he is going against Kageyama. That’s just awesome. But… he is not only going against Kageyama, he’s also going against Ushijima Wakatoshi and Hoshiumi Korai. This is no mere coincidence. These three people are all Hinata’s rivals. He declared one way or another that he would beat each of them and become the greater person. Hinata told Kageyama that he would, one day, beat him in a game. Hinata told Ushijima that he would beat Shiratorizawa and move onto nationals. I don’t remember if Hinata ever told Hoshiumi if he would beat him in a game one day, but we know for a fact that Hoshiumi did, at least in his mind. Let’s not forget how Hoshiumi really thought, “I’ve waited years for this day, Hinata Shoyo!!” Before the final game.

TEAMMATES: PAST AND PRESENT | I also want to mention the “commentators” for this match as well as some of Hinata’s teammates. In every game that we read/watch in Haikyuu!!, there is at least one person outside of the game who commentates on their perspective of what is going on in the game. We are not only getting the action, but also the analysis. In the final match, we are getting the commentary from Hinata’s teammates. We are finally getting their perspective in the game and how they perceive everyone’s actions. I just thought that was really cool since they were Hinata’s teammates- we never got the chance to hear their opinions about the game as an outsider. We also have some of Hinata’s teammates, Bokuto Koutarou, Miya Atsumu, and Sakusa Kiyoomi. I specifically want to talk about Bokuto and Atsumu, since the only reason I believe Sakusa was placed in the MSBY Jackals was so we could see his own ability because we never got to see him play in high school. Besides the Little Giant, I don’t know if there was any other person that Hinata looked up to more than Bokuto. I think it was great for Furudate to place Bokuto on Hinata’s team because it’s sort of a teacher-student moment where the teacher has to play with his disciple. I also think Furudate made the smartest choice to place Miya on this team as well because it shows that Kageyama is not the only one to perform a quick attack with Hinata. Having Miya on this team provides two things- it becomes a “battle of the setters” between Miya and Kageyama, and we see that Hinata has grown to adapt to perform well with other setters. It’s great character development on Hinata’s part because we see that he has definitely moved past the “he’s no good without Kageyama” thing back in high school. Good for him!

RIVALRY | Anyways, with a little analysis on Hinata’s team, we move on to the opponents. The big three opponents are, of course, Kageyama, Ushijima, and Hoshiumi. It’s a really good thing that Furudate placed these three on a team together (Talking about Romero makes their team even more OP so we’re just gonna set him aside for right now, haha) because it’s a test of Hinata’s ability. We get to see the rematch of the century, since each of Hinata’s rivals have wished for a rematch against him. Hinata lost to Kageyama’s team back in middle school, so now we wonder if Hinata could beat Kageyama now. We know that Ushijima lost to Hinata, but since he declared that he would beat Hinata in the future, we also wonder if Hinata could win against him, this time without the help of his teammates back in Karasuno. Lastly, Hinata collapsed in the middle of the match against Kamomedai, so we do not know for sure if Hinata could have won against Hoshiumi. All of these questions that we have for these three rivals will be cleared in this match; we get to see if Hinata will win in the end. We will learn if Hinata has truly become stronger. This match will let Hinata examine his current self and if his skills now can finally win against Kageyama, Ushijima, and Hoshiumi. It’s sort of like the “final exam” for Hinata’s strength.

Alright, that’s all I have to say! If you read all of this... then wow. I am in awe. Thank you for reading! I really enjoyed writing something like this. I was writing like the end of the world was coming. If you liked this, please let me know! Disagreed with anything I said? That’s fine, let’s respectfully discuss! Thanks!

#haikyuu!!#hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo #cadekagi

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coasttocoastreads · 5 years ago

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I am...so close to being done with the school year both literally and mentally. I can’t wait until I have more free time so I can read the stacks of books that have slowly been growing taller around my room.

Thank you Netgalley for providing me with an E-ARC in exchange for a review!

TW: self harm, emotional abuse, mental health issues

Breath Like Water // Anna Jarzab

★★★★★ / ★★★★★

Summary in One Gif:

Real Summary:

Susannah is a world champion swimmer. After a growth-spurt induced slowdown, she’s struggling to get her previous times back for Olympic Trials. On the verge of giving up, two new people enter her life: Beth, a coach with a fresh mindset, and Harry, a fellow talented swimmer. A romance soon blossoms between Susannah and Harry, but with Susannah’s Olympic dreams and Harry’s personal secrets between them, she begins to wonder if the cost of trying to achieve something beautiful is worth it.

Pros:

Realistic depiction of teen’s struggles/relationships

Very unique story? I haven’t read a book quite like this, ever

Cons:

So much water/swimming wordplay, I see you, Anna Jarzab (wait is this even a con)

Plot 5/5

There’s a good balance between Susannah’s time in and out of the pool, so we get to really experience the two lives she’s juggling. Her struggles felt realistic too- it’s nice to actually see a female character that puts her career over her love interest (and the love interest does the same).

Pacing 5/5

Each chapter starts with the number of days left until the Olympic Trials, and I thought that was a nice touch as it really puts readers in the head of Susannah. We’re so focused on this one goal along with her that sometimes it would seem easy to dismiss everything else that is happening, but each moment in this book seems important. I literally could not put this book down.

Characters 6/5

I love everyone to pieces and I just want them to be happy. Susannah is so driven towards her goal that she’s willing to put everything else aside, and her family supports her decisions. Harry is just...so precious. Must be protected at all costs. The two of them grow so much over the span of the book and I found myself grinning like an idiot seeing how much they’d changed by the epilogue.

Overall Thoughts:

I loved this so, so much, y’all have no idea. I don’t usually read contemporaries, but like *screeeeeeeeech* this book was so beautiful. Susannah and Harry’s relationship felt very realistic for two teenagers, none of that insta-love, burn down the world together nonsense. ALSO this book had the rawest lines like

“How do you even begin to mourn the death of a dream?”

I just 🥺🥺🥺 really love this book okay and I want y’all to read it when it comes out (May 19). (Also the cover is amazing and I want it framed on my wall)

I would recommend for:

People looking for a deep (get it) contemporary read

Fans of Gayle Forman,

Would I travel here?

uh, duh, I wanna be friends with both Susannah and Harry

#tiff's reviews #5 stars #breath like water #anna jarzab #bookstagram #bookblr #booklr #book review #books #yalit #reading

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aquaticalay · 6 years ago

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Bad Liar (Tony Stark x Daughter! reader, Peter Parker x Stark!reader)

Summary: Ever since Tony became Iron Man, he’s been preparing his daughter for his death, but is he prepared for her death?

Word Count: 3000+

Warning(s): Death, very slight mention of sex, Spoilers for the Iron Man trilogy, Avengers, Age of Ultron, and Infinity War

Genre: Angst, fluff

Note: Reader is 17 in infinity war, the same age as Peter

Inspired by ‘Bad Liar’ Imagine Dragons (lyrics in italic)

Oh, hush, my dear, it's been a difficult year And terrors don’t prey on innocent victims Trust me, darlin', trust me darlin'

Tony was young and stupid when he had you. He was still a playboy, a different woman in his bed every night. One night, he forgot to use protection, and he had you. You were an accident, but Tony never viewed you that way. To him, you were a gift. He wanted to be a great father. Your mother, a reporter that Tony had brought home that night, died while giving birth.

Tony raised you, his little angel. He loved you, more than he loved anyone. You were the stars in his skies, the driving force that made him who he is today.

When he first met you, you were so little in his arms. You weren’t crying, you wee smiling, as if you knew who he was.

Sure, at first he struggled at being a new dad, but it didn’t take him long to get hold of it. Despite being busy, he was very surprisingly very attentive. He was there when you said your first word, he was there when you took your first steps.

It was clear that you were going to be smart, maybe even a genius, from early on. At 7 months you said your first word, ‘Dadda,’ and Tony cried happy tears. He had swung you around the room, “That’s right, kiddo” he said, “I’m your dadda.” At 3 years old, you could read, and at 4 years old, you were able to do double-digit multiplications. It was clear now that there was another genius in the family. He decided to homeschool you, hiring only the best tutors to teach you.

It’s been a loveless year I'm a man of three fears Integrity, faith and crocodile tears Trust me, darlin', trust me, darlin'

When you were seven, your life changed forever. You woke up one day, expecting your father to be home from a business trip in Afghanistan, but there seems to be no one around. “Dad?” you walked down the steps to his basement, where he spent most of his time, but he wasn’t there. You walked through the Malibu mansion, looking for your dad. “Dad?” You said again, growing more anxious, “Daddy?”

“(Y/n)?” Pepper called from behind you. You ran into Pepper’s arms. She was the closest you’ve had to a mother. “What are you doing up this early?”

“Where’s daddy?” you asked. The worry was visible in Pepper’s eyes. She knew Tony had been attacked in Afghanistan, and now they were searching relentlessly for him. Pepper didn’t have the heart to tell you that Tony was missing.

“He still has work to do, (Y/n),” she reassured. Desperate to change the topic of the conversation, Pepper guided you to the living room and turned of the TV so you could watch your favorite cartoon.

When the TV flickered to life, it showed a news network. There was a photo of Tony, and the headline read, “BILLIONNAIRE TONY STARK MISSING.”

Pepper, realizing what the headline was, quickly change the channel, but it was too late. You already figured out what was going on.

Tears streaming down on your face, you hugged Pepper tightly, “Where’s d-daddy?”

Pepper ran her fingers through your hair, “They’ll find him, I promise.”

A few days later, he showed up with a broken arm.

“Daddy!” You ran to his arms.

He greeted you, kneeling as he welcomed you into his arms, “Hey, kiddo,” he grinned.

Tony, though not wanting to be distant from you, had work to do. Work on his Iron Man suits/

While he was working on his new suits, he sent you up with Pepper. You barely saw him anymore.

After he nearly died fighting Obadiah Stane and revealed to the press that he was ‘Iron Man,’ he realized how risky his line of work is. He realized, that every time he walked out the door using an armor, he might not come back, So, he decided to do something Howard Stark had failed to do. He decided to prepare you for the worst.

So look me in the eyes, tell me what you see Perfect paradise, tearin' at the seams

When you turned eight, Tony had hired a personal martial arts coach for you. At first, you had stubbornly refused to train with him, but Tony insisted, and talked you into it. He knew he wasn’t immortal, that he was not going to always be there to protect you. You had to learn to protect yourself.

Tony also spent more time with you, knowing that his days are numbered. Every spare time he had, he spent with you. He even let you watch him work in his basement, with JARVIS making sure you didn’t get hurt. It didn’t take long for you to take interest in his armors. “Daddy?” You asked, “When am I going to get my own my Iron Man armor?”

Tony lifted his eyebrow and smiled. He stopped tinkering with his suit and sat next to you, “You want to be Iron man?” he asked. You nodded with excitement. “Why?” he asked.

“Because,” you said, “Iron Man is a superhero! When I grow up, I’m going to become Iron Man, and when I’m Iron Man, I’m going to save the whole wide world! I’m going to make you so proud!”

“I’m already proud of you, kiddo,” Tony kissed your forehead. He smiled at his little girl’s ambitions, but he was worried about you, too. Worried that your ambitions would lead you to a dangerous path, a path similar to his.

I wish I could escape, I don't wanna fake it Wish I could erase it, make your heart believe

When you were nine years old, after Tony re-instituted Stark Expo in honor of your grandfather, you realized something was off with your dad. He had become reckless. He raced, and almost got killed by Ivan Vanko at the Circuit de Monaco. You saw you father being attacked at the circuit, right in front of your eyes. Security tried to get you away to secure you, but you thrashed and shouted in their grip, “Leave my daddy alone!”

Tony managed to defeat Vanko with his suit, thanks to his potable briefcase armor.

But even after that, he still acted reckless. He suddenly stopped working on his projects, and he got drunk every other night. He acted as if he had nothing to lose. After he appointed Pepper as the CEO of Stark industries and employed Natalie Rushman as her assistant, his behavior became worse and it was heartbreaking and traumatizing for a nine-year-old to witness.

One morning, after one of your father’s birthday party, you were by yourself in your room. You can’t bear seeing your father live as if he was going to die. You could sense that he was hiding something from you. Why would he do that? The two of you had a strict father-daughter-No-Secrets Policy. You cried, wondering what was wrong with your father, wishing for a way to fix it. Your relationship with your father had become strained and you had absolutely no one. You were alone. Suddenly, your door creaked open. “kiddo?” you father called, “Is everything okay?”

You didn’t answer.

Tony entered your room, “What’s wrong, kiddo?” he approached you, and wrapped his arms around you.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” you asked.

Tony looked shock, “Why would you think that?”

“You’re a bad liar,” you frowned. Tony sighed. “There’s just something that I need to figure out, okay?” You nodded. He kissed your forehead, fearing that he might not get to hold you again. The palladium from his arc reactor was poisoning him, and he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he was dying.

When Fury approached Tony and gave him Howard’s diorama, a hidden message that proved to be a diagram to a new element that could save his life from his palladium dependency, he was ecstatic. He could live longer that just a few days. He had more time with you than he expected, he could watch you grow into an intelligent young woman.

After defeating Vanko with the help of Rhodey, he came home safe and sound. He came home a better man, with Pepper as his girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier that your father had found love.

But I'm a bad liar, bad liar Now you know, now you know That I'm a bad liar, bad liar Now you know, you’re free to go

When you were eleven, the world around you changed once again. You were hanging out in the Stark tower in New York with Tony and Pepper when a SHIELD agent, Phil Coulson informed Tony that the Avengers initiative is on. Tony, worried half to death that this Avengers thing would harm you, sent you away with Pepper on a flight to DC. He wanted to keep you and Pepper safe and unharmed. If anything ever happened to either of you, Tony wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

“What’s going on?” you asked your father.

“Hey,” he said, “I’ll explain everything after it’s done, okay?”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“Now come and give your old man a hug,” he said, and you hugged him as tightly as you could, “I love you, daddy,” you said. “Love you, too, kiddo.”

When Loki and the Chitauri invaded New York through a wormhole in the sky, you and Pepper were safe on your way to DC, but the two of you watched the battle unfold from the news network on the plane.

When the news captured footage of the Iron Man- your father- redirecting a nuclear missile in the sky, you held on to Pepper, scared for you father. When he disappeared through he wormhole you shouted, “No, daddy!”

A few minutes later, the Iron Man suit was visible again, though there seemed to be no power, therefore, it couldn’t fly.

Your father was saved by the Hulk, and you and Pepper were relieved beyond belief when you got the call confirming Tony was alive.

Soon after that, the Stark Tower was remodeled to become the Avengers tower. Then, your life was flipped upside down, in a good way. You were practically raised by the earth’s mightiest heroes.

Clint loved spending time with you, usually watching over you when Tony and Pepper weren’t available. He didn’t mind, though. Natasha, on the other hand, warmed at the thought of being part of a young girl’s life. She offered to teach you ballet, but you refused, asking her to teach you how to fight instead. Sure, you had the basics of mixed martial arts, but Natasha taught you her distinct fighting style, making combat seem like it’s graceful. Bruce, at first, didn’t trust himself around children, but you weren’t scared of him. Instead, you thanked him from saving your dad in New York and asked him to teach you biology, chemistry, and much more. He did have 7 Ph.D’s, after all. Thor, being a god, didn’t really know what to make of you, a mortal child. You and Thor found common ground while you were eating a bunch of pop tarts, and the god of thunder had asked if he could have some. After that, you introduced him to a lot of other human foods that Thor grew to love. You were also a big part of Steve’s adjustment to the modern world. You would teach him about modern music and video games, You would introduce him to all the movies and cartoons he missed during his time on ice. Your favorite was the original Star Wars Trilogy, and Steve grew to be fond of it, too.

Did all my dreams never mean one thing? Does happiness lie in a diamond ring? Oh, I’ve been askin' for Oh, I’ve been askin' for problems, problems, problems

When you were twelve years old, just a year after the New York invasion, everything seemed to come back to normal. Except for one thing. Your father was restless. He was aware all the time, and he can’t seem to relax or take anything easily. It was as if he was paranoid. He spent less of his time on you and more on his Iron Man suits.

“Pepper?” you had asked, “Is my dad okay?”

Pepper, who seemed shocked at how you were noticing Tony’s slight change in behavior, answered, “He’s just tired, dear.”

“I think he’s hiding something,” you said. Pepper slightly tilted her head, “Why would you think that?”

“He’s bad at hiding things,” you explained, “I think he’s scared some bad people like the ones in New York are going to come back.” Pepper sighed. “New York is over, dear,” she said, “He’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.”

“Okay,” You nodded.

When Tony had a nightmare about his near death that cause one of his suits to almost attack Pepper, he realized how severe his PTSD was and decided that it was not safe for you to be around him, so he sent you away from his Malibu Mansion to Agent Maria Hill in the Triskelion, SHIELD headquarters in Washington DC, just until he come to terms with his PTSD and until he has the Mandarin taken care of.

After Tony issued a threat to the Mandarin, his Malibu mansion was destroyed by the terrorist’s helicopter. You father, was once again, presumed dead.

You didn’t believe it. You refused to believe it. You refused to believe that he didn’t survive. He was Tony Stark, and he believed he was somewhere out there, refusing to die.

Sure enough, he came back, and had the shrapnel from his heart removed. He threw his arc reactor into the sea.

“Dad?” you called. “Yeah?” he replied.

“I don’t care if you don’t have the arc reactor anymore,” you said, “you’re always gonna be Iron Man. You’re always going to be my hero.”

I wage my war, on the world inside I take my gun to the enemy's side Oh, I've been askin’ for Oh, I've been askin' for problems, problems, problems

When you were fourteen, the Avengers assembled again to raid a Hydra base in Sokoia. Before the mission, you had come up to your dad and gave him a bear hug, “Good luck, dad,” you said. “I don’t need it,” he chuckled.

The mission to retrieve Loki’s scepter was a success, and Tony held a celebration afterwards. It was nice to see the team as a family, just hanging out together. What you and the rest of the team didn’t know was that Tony and Bruce were building a peacekeeping AI, Ultron. When Ultron attacked, the building had gone to chaos. Tony had you sent away when he realized that Ultron had a bigger plan, human extinction.

The Avengers once again managed to save humanity, and your Avenger family grew into a larger one, welcoming Wanda, Vision, and Sam.

You realize that you could do better in this world, that every time the world descended into chaos, you didn’t have to run and hide.

You started tinkering with Tony’s earlier armors. You reverse engineered his armor and made your own to better suit you, without you father knowing.

He found out about you and your new toys when he saw you fly across New York.

You got back home safely, but your dad was already waiting for you to catch you red-handed.

“What is that?” Tony asked, pointing at what clearly is a metal suit.

“Nothing?” you said, but there was an inquisitive tone in your voice. Tony didn’t know if he should be proud or not. “You’re a bad liar, kiddo.”

“I got it from you,” you mumbled, causing Tony to chuckle.

After a full week of back and forth argument, you finally convinced him to let you fight side by side the Avengers on missions. You were so happy, you kissed your father on the cheek and exclaimed, “I wont let you down, dad!”

Tony smiled, “you could never let me down, kiddo.”

You gave yourself an alias, Ironess. Tony felt like he had successfully given his daughter everything that would prepare her for his death.

So look me in the eyes, tell me what you see Perfect paradise, tearin' at the seams

When you were fifteen, you father had a fallout with Captain America. The Avengers were split into two; those in favor of the Sokovia Accords, and those against.

The Avengers, the only family you’ve ever known, was falling apart.

“This is your fault!” You shouted at you father, “Why did you even agree to the Sokovian Accords?”

Tony, careful not to be controlled by his emotions, replied, “I’m doing this for us. We need to be put in check.”

“By what? By tearing us apart?” you fumed, “I lost the only family I’ve ever had to this stupid accord!”

“’The only family?’” Tony said incredulously, “I though I was your family.”

“You know what?” you said, “I hate the accords, I hate you.”

You stormed into your room and locked the door, Tony was shocked. He never heard you say those words before. Hate is such a strong word, he didn’t know his own daughter was capable of hating him.

After a few hours, he had approached you room. “Kiddo?” he called, “We need to talk.”

You opened the door, and you looked like a crying mess. “Dad,” you managed to say, “I’m sorry- I- _ didn’t mean it, I-I don’t hate you-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured, “We all say things we don’t mean.” He pulled you into a hug and you held him tight.

“Right now, I need your help,” he said, “I need you to help me bring cap and his friends to the UN, okay? I know you don’t agree to the accords, but the law is the law. We can negotiate about later, okay? I just need your help to bring them in without anybody getting hurt.”

You agreed reluctantly.

During the confrontation in the Airport in Germany, you were able to capture most of Cap’s team, besides Bucky and Cap himself. That was when you met Peter, a boy your age.

You helped the spider-boy up, “You okay?” you asked. Peter, dumbfounded, had answered, “um- Yeah,” he said, “I-I’m Peter, by the way.”

I wish I could escape, I don't wanna fake it Wish I could erase it, make your heart believe

After Peter stopped the Vulture from hijacking a Stark plane carrying weapons, you and him grew closer. You begged your father to let you go to a normal high school for once, just so you could be more normal. He didn’t want to, at first. He was scared to let you out of his sight, but he reluctantly agreed and sent you to Midtown School of Science and Technology. At first, everyone in school is just star-struck that (Y/n) Stark, daughter of Tony Stark, the Ironess, goes to their school. Every one tries to make a move on you, especially Flash, but you ignored most of them and became best friends with Peter and Ned.

After three months of going to a normal school, Peter finally mustered the courage to ask you out.

“Um, so there’s this nice diner near my place, would you like to come and eat there? Like, just the two of us?” he asked.

You chuckled at his nervousness, “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” he replied. You kissed his cheek, “Sure! Meet you there at seven!”

Peter just stood there, smiling like an idiot, “She said yes,” he mumbled, “she said yes!”

The date went well, but the two of you decided not to say a word to Tony, just so he doesn’t freak out. The relationship grew, and the two of you had your first kiss during prom, where you initiated it, slightly leaning into him as he did the same. You managed to keep your relationship a secret until Tony walked in on the two of you making out. He eventually approved of your relationship, and though he wouldn’t admit it, he found the two of you to be cute at times. Pepper, on the other hand, was glad that You and Peter ended up together.

But I'm a bad liar, bad liar Now you know, now you know That I'm a bad liar, bad liar Now you know, you're free to go

Oh, when did it go so wrong?

You were seventeen when Thanos’s children, Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian, attacked. One thing led to another, and now you were in Titan, with Tony, Peter, Stephen Strange, and the Guardians. You had restlessly fought Thanos, now so bloody and bruised. You weren’t sure how many more hits you could take, but you got back up. You were a Stark, and Starks don’t give up that easily.

“No!” you shouted as you saw the mad titan stab your father, and with every last bit of energy, you got up and blasted the titan with you repulsors.

“Hands off my dad!” you shouted. With the reality stone, he easily turned your repulsors into bubbles. “W-what?” you asked, distressed. Without warning, the titan closed his fist around your neck.

“You love you father,” Thanos acknowledged, “I know what that is like.”

Tony, who was just stabbed, couldn’t do anything. He was struggling just to say a word out of his mouth. He wanted to get up, but he can’t. His body failed him.

“You’re so young,” he said, “so full of love. It’s a shame you had to die.”

With a slight movement, he closed his fist around your neck. You looked at you father one last time, “You’ll always- b-be my h-hero,” you whispered, before a crack can be heard from your neck, you blood vessels popping, and your heart stopped beating. Thanos dropped you body to the ground, and Tony was powerless to save his little girl.

I can't breathe, I can't be I can't be what you want me to be Believe me, this one time Believe me

”No!” Tony shouted, crawling over to you limp body, “No, no, no no!” he checked for a pulse, and sure enough, he didn’t find one.

“Wake up, kiddo,” he said desperately, “Please, wake up,” he cradled your body in his arms, “It’s me, your old man. You wouldn’t leave your old man all alone, would you?”

In that moment, Tony saw all his memories with you flash before his eyes. He remembered teaching you how to walk, teaching you how to tie your shoelaces, teaching you how to ride a bike, teaching you how to drive. He remembered your first birthday, and every other birthdays that come after. He remembered every stupid fight you had, and how you would always find middle ground. He remembered giving Peter ‘the talk’ after he found out you were dating. He remembered making breakfast with you, having food fights. He remembered that Friday nights were movie night, and you never skipped movie night. He remembered doing everything he can to keep you safe. He remembered your smile, your laugh, your cry. He remembered you. You were all he had.

I'm a bad liar, bad liar Now you know, now you know That I'm a bad liar, bad liar Now you know, you're free to go

In the end, they lost anyway. Strange gave the time stone in exchange for Tony’s life, and Thanos dusted half of the universe. Only Tony, Nebula, and your cold, dead body remained on Titan. He has always thought he would die before you, but here you are, lifeless in his arms. He had prepared you for his death, he didn’t even stop to think to prepare himself for yours. It seems like it was only yesterday he held you for the first time, crying tears of joy for the life he had brought to the world. Now, he held the very same being, this time without a soul, this time crying tears of sadness and anger.

Now, he was going to avenge you.

Please believe me Please believe me

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north-texas-madhatter · 4 years ago

Text

Uncertain: That’s no deer my wife whispered…

As I listened intently peering off into the dark forest I told my wife, “It’s out there, it hasn’t left” She and the kids got up as we heard a twig snap. “Get the kids and get in the cabin”, I quietly whispered as I grabbed the shotgun from the trunk. I knew it was watching us, in the dark, maybe just as scared as I was – or maybe not.

Our family loves to travel and the more unusual the place the better. We love cabins and nature and beautiful back roads, lakes and forest. It was a cool crisp morning and we were loading up the car for another adventure. Don’t forget to put on some deodorant my wife reminds me, my daughter had complained that Papa David was kinda stinky. Which is true, I am a stinky smelly man and unfortunately for her she sits behind me in the backseat when we travel. “I will smell like roses”, I replied as I loaded the cooler of snacks with an assortment of drinks careful to put it equally in reach of all family members.

I was rummaging around in the garage trying to find all the items I had put on my trip list. The smell of moldy tarps, dust and an old bike tube hanging off a rack as I shuffled things back and forth. “I really need to organize this better” I thought to myself. Finally laying on the garage floor before me were, flashlights, medical kits, an assortment of fire starters, lanterns, two way radios, and an old box of shotgun shells that I had brought out from the house. I did a quick review of the list I had made the night before and checked off all the items but one. The shotgun. I didn’t like leaving anything like that just laying around.

The kids packed their backpacks with who knows what, some Go Fish and Old Maid card games were stuffed in the side pockets and the iPad’s fully charged for those moments where my wife and I would like to have a conversation without interruption. You parents know what I mean.

“What about Stella?” the kids asked. I had made sure to find lodgings that allowed pets so I said she is going with us. Stella had been sitting on her carpet anxiously watching us pack the car and, as if to know what I had said, began wagging her tail gleefully running back and forth to the door.

All packed up, everyone in the car, doors checked, thermo nuclear alarm system set, we began to back out of the driveway. “Oh wait!” I forgot something. Everyone letting out a sigh. Just like my parents when we would leave for our trans America trips, my dad would pull in and out of the driveway six times before we could finally depart. Turning off the alarm and unlocking all the doors I retrieved a large shotgun from the safe and walked back to the car checking it before placing it carefully in the trunk.

Off we go! And the kids yelled yay! immediately asking for their iPads. Our destination this time is a little town on the Caddo Lake called Uncertain. But we were in no hurry to get there as plenty of back wood roads were ahead of us.

Leaving the Dallas city limits always brings a sigh of relief, like escaping some kind of urban restraints. There is a Buccee’s ahead but I turn the car onto highway 80 heading through Terrell and then after a quick driving tour of a few historical neighborhoods we are headed out into the countryside.

“Look a tank!” the kids yelled. Small towns often have war relics as a showpiece for their local VFW’s (Veteran’s of Foreign Wars) which are like a club house for military service men and women to get together and have a drink, socialize or even hold events such as weddings or parties. We pulled into the parking lot and the kids ran toward the tank and a large caliber cannon. “Watch for snakes!” was the usual call out we made but it was cold enough that there were probably none around.

I hobbled over to the edge of a tank putting my hand on the corner to hold myself up. A car wreck and later a fall off an H post on our ranch years ago had left my back in a mess and driving takes its toll if I don’t stop and move around. As I stood there the kids climbed all over the tank turret and I could smell engine grease that must have been in this machine since WW2. Our mini-dachshund bounced over the grass fighting the leash my wife held tightly. An elderly couple emerged from one of the doors in the VFW and waved. I could see USS something written on the old man’s hat with a silhouette of a battleship. He reminded me of my grandfather who fought in the war. His white wavy hair, reading a newspaper. As a child I would sneak up and thump it and he would pretend to get up for a chase. After a brief break we yelled for the kids to get down and dust off as we all piled back in the car and headed on down the road.

My favorite thing to do is put in a destination on Google Maps and then pick all the different routes that will prevent me from merging onto a highway because highways are the enemy when it comes to adventure. You miss so much when you fly down a road at 70 plus mph. The orange, yellow and red leaves become a blur, the smell of the sweet pine needle lost in the soot of the diesel trucks. Give me the backroads, the curve of her body, the gentle sway of her hair. The dips, the hills, the smooth mirror like surface of the lake meeting the sky. Lazy fishing boats, their lines cast toward the setting sun.

It’s getting dark now as we roll into Jefferson, the sun’s rays beam through the magnolia trees and New Orleans styled patios. Porch lights dot the neighborhoods and a train can be heard rumbling on the tracks just outside of town, as we catch glimpses of the red blinking of the sentries through the dirty glass windows of vacant row houses.

For those of you unfamiliar with Jefferson. It is a unique Texas, town sitting in the shadow of Caddo Lake it was once a Texas port for steamboats arriving by way of the Mississippi and Red Rivers. The town is steeped in New Orleans styled architecture. Many goods and services were brought by paddleboat to the town from the coastal city and as with many towns of those times they had stories of hauntings. In fact Jefferson is home to one of the most haunted hotels in America, the towns namesake, The Jefferson Hotel. You can imagine the gas lamps flickering as a ghostly figure stands in the doorway. There is an old train car permanently stationed across the street and we release the kids to stretch their legs as we take a peak at the old hotel and adjacent coach car.

No offense to the paranormal enthusiasts but I have never been much of a believer in the other worldly but I do try to keep an open mind. Nevertheless, the whole town had a kind of creepy vibe at this time of day and there was this almost damp deathly smell as a light mist encroached on the lattice worked streets from the nearby swamps.

It was at this moment that I heard something. It was distant, like a low howl almost just outside of human hearing. I can’t quite explain it but though barely discernable it was not of the norm I would expect from the usual town and surrounding forest noises, but it demanded to be noticed if only subconsciously. “Did you hear that?” I asked my wife “Hear what?” she replied and I as quickly dismissed it to have been just some slight synaptic misunderstanding.

We drove around town for another half hour looking at all the beautiful old homes, brick streets and the docking area where paddleboats once delivered handlebar mustached men and parasol carrying ladies to horse drawn carriages idly standing by while French perfume fragrances purchased in the Big Easy filled the air.

Leaving Jefferson, Polk Street took us through the Big Cypress Bayou. Our surroundings were changing, Spanish moss was hanging from the trees now and I knew our cabin was not much farther away. We decided to take a slight detour and drive through Caddo Lake State Park. We giggled at the sign, Learn How to Survive Like a Sasquatch. And we noted all the wildlife, deer, birds and though we probably would not see any, alligator that live in this eco-system we had arrived to. The road then became darker, swamp waters came right up to the edge on both sides, the lake was up and we had entered a watery world that was quite foreign to us. In fact, we heard that the town was called Uncertain because when the lake floods no one is certain the town is still there.

It is small and looks like something out of a Stephen King novel. There is a short main street with a sundry of cabins anywhere from a mere shack to homes on stilts. There it is! Caddo Lake Cabins, just on the corner of Bois D Arc and Cypress Drive. There were two cabins side by side and ours was the larger with a screened in porch with the back of it to the forest and swamps. A stone throw away was Taylor Island which you would never know it was an island since the road extended to a dead end there. Fishing camps lined the edge and the smell of fish and beer filled the air.

“There’s a golf cart!”, the kids yelled. “Can we drive it!” Not tonight, it’s too dark and we need to get everything inside.

What we didn’t know is how ready we would be to leave…

The cabin was beautiful! It was very clean and had everything we needed. The screened porch overlooking the forest was a favorite for our dog Stella who incessantly sniffed the air. The cabin had a fresh cut wood and coffee smell to it as my wife opened the bag of black coffee grounds left by the owners for us to enjoy during our morning cup of joe. Outside we could hear owls hooting to one another and frogs serenading the cool crisp night as we brought in all our items for the stay. Blankies, stuffed animals, backpacks spilling open onto the bed as our kids claimed their living quarters. We couldn’t believe we had found such a wonderful place for such a reasonable price.

After unloading our gear and goodies we took a quick drive around town. It was eerily quiet, “They roll up the carpet early around these parts”, I said aloud. We could see yellow bulbs glowing behind closed curtains in the small cabins and homes up and down Cypress Drive, the main street of town. We caught glimpses of the moonlight reflecting off the bayou just beyond the cottages at the waters edge. “I hear they filmed parts of Universal Soldier and some swamp monster movie near here”, I said as the occupants of the car peered out the window. A few bumps in the road and we stopped short of a boat ramp leading into the lake. We sat there for a moment, next to us was a covered marina with little Jon Boats bobbing up and down, we could hear a dog barking off in the distance. “Well that’s it for this town”, I said. “Let’s head back and get some rest so we can get an early start tomorrow.” We had plans for the next day to drive into Louisiana and see where Bonnie and Clyde met their end at the hands of Frank Hamer and local law enforcement and to possibly explore a very unusual area that I had found while researching our trip on Google Maps.

My wife and I laid in bed, it was close to 11pm and after talking about the trip and our plans for the next day we began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly the night was split open as an extremely loud air horn blasted. “What the Hell is that!” I jumped up out of bed and ran to the window. It sounded as if a train might drive right through the cabin! Looking out the window I could only see night. There were no headlights, no trains or trucks – nothing. Just the echo of the loud piercing horn fading into the forest. My wife walking back to bed after checking on the kids asked, “What do you think that was all about?” “I don’t know but I didn’t see any train tracks that close to us.” “It was almost like it was to scare something away or sounded as a warning.” The odd thing was no one was coming out of their dwellings to check out the mysterious sound. It was accepted as a normal occurrence it seemed. It set me on edge but I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning we opened the bag of coffee grounds and my wife walked out onto the porch handing me a fresh mug with steam rising from it. I never really liked coffee until I married my wife and now it is so nice when we can just sit and talk between sips of the black stuff. The kids were still asleep and Stella sniffed around the edges of the porch. “Something must have come close last night, she seems really curious”, my wife pointed out. Stella was really picking up on a scent near the screen door. “Maybe she needs a restroom break” as my wife went off to retrieve the harness and leash.

Stella pulled hard at the leash. She is never like this, usually just sniffing and stopping and then sniffing some more before finally answering to the call of nature but this time she strained at the end of the leash. My wife looked back at me as Stella pulled her across the lawn toward the woods behind the cabin. She is onto something. Maybe a deer? She growled but then after a moment retreated back to the cabin managing a tinkle on the way. We didn’t think much of it and knew that being surrounded by nature and forest there was bound to be some curious creatures lurking about.

After breakfast we all jumped in the car and headed out. Fishermen were already making their way into the bayou, wisps of smoke from their engines lazily floating across the water. There was a slight mist to the morning air and everything was damp from the night fog that the sun now began to burn through. The smell of eggs and bacon filled our noses as the town began its slow start to the day. After a bumpy drive through town, we turned onto a smooth black top road heading toward Louisiana. Shortly down the road we arrived to a small town named Karnack, it looked very run down but “This is where Lady Bird Johnson grew up” I exclaimed, no one in the car knew who that was so I explained that she was the First Lady and wife of President Lyndon B. Johnson. She is responsible for the beautification of our Texas Highways and for the seeding of the wildflowers and bluebonnets we see along the roadsides in the Spring. Her husband, LBJ, is responsible for The Grasslands we enjoy having our campfires at, not far from our hometown of Denton.

The air had an acrid smell to it and we could see large gates that led into the vast forested area I had seen on Google Maps. It looked like there had been a large town there once with roads crisscrossing one another in an organized grid with streets called 4th Street, Avenue C, 59th and Starr Ranch Road. Structures could still be seen peeking out behind the forest.

“Hey guys!” that is where we will explore later if we have time on our way back. We were very excited and off we went!

It didn’t seem long before we pulled under the overhang of the Horseshoe Casino. My wife and son walked in just to take a look while my daughter stayed behind with me. From the car I could see the beautiful chandelier that hung over the lobby. Many times, I had walked underneath it with my dad as we arrived for games of Black Jack while sitting on the banks of The Red River in Bossier City. There is some obscure law that I still don’t quite understand, where as long as the casino is on or over the Red River it is allowed to operate. The hotel, restaurants and parking areas can be on land but the games of chance themselves had to be over the rivers muddy red water. This is accomplished by river boat or barge permanently docked and anchored with vast poles that allow the casino to move up or down depending on the rivers height and water flow.

Shreveport was on the West side of the river and Bossier City on the East side. I had to laugh when I saw a Pipes Emporium on “Stoner” Avenue. Though I do not partake in the herbage myself I have been in my share of head shops, they sell the best incense, and the irony was not lost on me by the name of the street. By the way they don’t like it when you ask for a bong, they want you to call it by its legal name, a water pipe. Though they are technically the same thing and no difference to those visiting Pipes Emporium on Stoner for all their smoke shop needs.

Barksdale Air Force Base was to our left now and we could see war planes sitting idly on the tarmac. We headed back into the forested roads of Louisiana. An hour later and a vacant road would find us in front of one of America’s most notorious landmarks. The location where the famous outlaw couple, Bonnie & Clyde, were dispatched. One could almost smell the gun powder as Frank Hamer and his posse laid in wait raining down a wall of bullets onto the unsuspecting duo. An informant had tipped off Frank and his group of law men that they would be travelling on that road and a trap was set. The friend turned snitch pretended to be broken down on the side of the road and as Bonnie and Clyde slowed their car to assist, they were gunned down leaving their car peppered with holes and their limp bodies slumped in the car.

There are several cars claiming to be the famous death wagon. One is at Whiskey Pete’s Hotel and Casino in Primm, Nevada and another, not far from Dallas, owned by a little known body shop in Gunter, Texas. My son and I have seen it and it looks as real as any car shot full of holes would look sans the blood and other gore.

After finishing our visit to the markers that commemorated the death of the outlaws while praising the men who made it happen, we turned back out onto the road. A rusty colored pickup whizzed by startling me as I had grown accustomed to the lack of vehicular traffic in this area of backwoods LA. With the tires throwing some gravel behind us we were back on the blacktop making a circle around to the highway that would take us toward our temporary home back in the town of Uncertain but not before at least one last adventure to end the day with…

We passed through the gates, they weren’t like the gates at the State Parks we were accustomed to visiting. These looked a bit more foreboding. A small building was on our right that I imagine served as a visitor’s center. There was not a soul around. The town of Karnack was just behind us as we drove on down the road. I could hear the tires passing through bits of loose asphalt. The whole place seemed to be a maze of roads separated by tall pine trees. Here and there we could catch a glimpse of concrete structures long fallen out of use. It gave me an uneasy feeling like we were not supposed to be there. But what was eerie was that it was so quiet. I heard few if any birds. No other persons or wildlife was in the park. The streets were named as if it were a bustling downtown metropolis but nothing much was to be seen except for the stately conifers that surrounded us. It reminded me of that scene out of The Shining where the boy is being chased through a labyrinth. Except there was no snow and no deranged lunatic chasing us, at least none that we saw.

Driving on we were amazed at how large this place was, it was more than a Nature Preserve and we would run into road after road that would have barriers or warning signs that the road was off limits. We finally found the Starr Ranch Road that led us to the edge of Rag Island and a lonely boat launch. Here there was another structure, more welcoming. It looked like something that might be used for family gatherings and was screened in to protect guests from the swarms of mosquitoes that I am sure inhabited these areas in the summertime. We jumped out and the kids threw rocks into the water nearby. The Cypress Trees were beautiful, one of my favorite trees. My wife found an internet connection and we looked up the area that we were in. It was the Caddo Lake National Wildlife Refuge. Once home to the Longhorn Army Ammunition Plant. That explains all those little buildings. It was part of an 8,493 acre facility that once produced dynamite, 393,000,000 pounds of it during World War II. It was also a super fund site for all the chemicals that were still present in the soil. “Uh, kids put down those rocks and don’t stir up the dust” I quickly told them. Lead and mercury was still being found in some of the areas and a large compound fence ran along the perimeter of the entire plant. It was sprawling to say the least and with good reason, two in fact. One to help prevent an enemy bombing run from destroying the entire operation and to prevent an errant accident from killing everyone in sight. A rail system helped connect the different parts of the plant delivering the product as it was developed to other areas for assembly. Things like this fascinate me. It is a dark part of history, the entire location was set aside for one purpose and one purpose only, to kill as many people as possible and at that time to kill Nazi Germans. But National Wildlife Refuge makes it sound much more appealing for today’s visitors, just don’t drink the water – or play in the sand or expect to see much wildlife.

It took a while to get back to the main road. The GPS was on the blink because we were pretty remote but after a few wrong turns we made a right and we were headed back out the gates, which made much more sense now.

Everyone’s stomach was beginning to grumble, and it wasn’t long before we arrived back in Uncertain. My wife asked what we should do for dinner and I told her that I had heard of a good fish place that wasn’t too far from the cabin. I could really use a Fried Shrimp Po Boy right now and the kids really wanted some Calamari, if it were available. It was evening and it would be dark soon. A few people were stirring about while we drove back through town but things looked like they were beginning to button up. “Can I go with you Papa David?” my daughter asked. I said sure. My wife and son decided that they would stay behind and get a fire going in the fire ring just outside the cabin. So I left them the axe as my daughter and I jumped in the car.

We arrived at The RiverBend Restaurant which was up on stilts and I slowly climbed the stairs as my daughter ran up the ramp ahead of me. The drive had done a number on my back and I was paying for it now. Holding the door for me I gave my girl a hug and told her to, “stay close”. We ordered take out and it wasn’t long before two bags of great smelling seafood were sitting on the counter for the taking. It was hard not to help ourselves to the appetizers but out of politeness, on my daughters’ part, we managed to get back to the cabin only eating a few fries.

Pulling up into the gravel drive we opened the car doors to the sweet smell of pine wood smoke. The sun was going down quickly behind the swampy forest and rays of light were playfully dancing between the trees. My wife took the food inside for plating as I sat down next to the warm fire. “Did you start this?” I asked my son. “Yes and I cut most of the wood too!” My wife soon came out with all the food and handed each of us a plate. I stuck a hush puppie in one of the small tubs of butter and swirled it around, the pickled tomatoes were next in line for a tasting. Finally finishing the Po Boy and everyone filled on some of the best calamari we have had, either because it was really that good or we were just that hungry.

Filled and happy we sat listening to the fire crackle with pops here and there as the small pockets of resin would catch to the fire. Stella was in my arms and quite content as she had sneaked a few pieces of scraps from the meal.

Then it happened.

Stella’s hair bristled and stood straight up on the back of her neck. She had this low treacherous growl that I had never heard her make before. I quickly held her tight as not to allow her to launch herself into the inky night. She was staring down the road toward Taylor Island. Something was moving slowly off to the left of the road. I could just barely see a dark figure. I thought it might be a fisherman or someone who had a few drinks but the left of the road was swamp, so it didn’t make much sense why someone would be walking through the muck. I could barely make out the silhouette but could see it was larger than your normal average man. It was gone in an instant, disappearing into the darkness.

“Shhhhh…” “Listen” my wife quietly spoke.

Not less that 50 feet from us was the edge of the woods. The closest trees illuminated by the orange flames of our fire. I could hear it. “What is it?”, my wife asked in a voice so quiet I could barely hear her question. We both knew this was not a typical woodland creature or bunny rabbit. It sounded huge! And this was not a forest that one could easily navigate. It was filled with briars, an old barbed wire fence, swamps and decaying logs laying all around ready to trip the ill prepared.

“It’s, its… yes. It’s definitely on two feet” my wife said. We both tried to imagine the size and dimensions of this unwelcome visitor that was coming way to close for our comfort. “Are you sure?” Could it be a deer, I quietly mouthed as both our children, our dog and each of us squinting our eyes as if that could give us super human vision. My son was mid swing with the axe frozen in his stance. “Put the axe down behind the tree” I told him. I didn’t want a mishap. He laid it down out of the way and moved over toward his sister and momma. It had stopped for a moment but now to my horror it was closer, we could hear it walking through a small creek not that far off into the woods. It stopped just short of walking into our field of vision. We sat there for what felt like an eternity not quite certain what to do.

That’s no deer my wife whisperered…

“Lock the door” I quietly shouted as I raised the butt of the gun up to my shoulder. I positioned myself just beyond the fire leaning up against the back of a tree. “Who’s out there?”, I shouted. “Who are you and what do you want?” I spoke as the frost of my breath spilled out onto the night.

Silence… we stood there for maybe 10 or 15 minutes. I listened straining to hear anything, breathing, footsteps, a voice, even a heart beating but the only one I could hear was mine.

Oh my God. It sounded like a thousand trumpeters accompanied by a chorus of a thousand more angry elephants. But it wasn’t coming from in front of me. It was coming from beyond where our dog Stella had first been ready to attack. A twig snapped and then the large beast ran through the woods at a speed so fast it was inhuman, I am not saying that it seemed inhuman – I am telling you it was not human. And it was not like anything else I had ever heard. Running full sprint it ran toward the sound, splashing through the swamp. PEOPLE CANNOT POSSIBLY RUN THIS WAY! I thought to myself. I followed it with my gun, my finger feathering the trigger. I hurt, I hurt all over. The blood was ripping through my veins at lightning speed. I knew whatever this thing was if it were to get to me it was big enough to rip me to pieces and the only thing between me and it was a shotgun slug and my poor aim.

But then it was gone. I could hear it splashing off through the swamps until it was no more.

I threw open the door, my eyes wide, letting out a few expletives that I had to explain to our children not to repeat.

“Did you see it, did you SEE it!!!” my wife exclaimed. “No but I heard it” we all did. And then came the realization.

“Honey – there is only one way out for those things”, I said. “The direction they headed - it’s a dead end.”

A bead of sweat began to slide down the ice-cold beer glass I had sitting in front of me. My friend by the same name placed it there enticing me to continue with my story. David was an old friend I had recently reconnected with. We met when I first started riding motorcycles years back. He has a quick smile with a thin but muscular frame and the kind of rugged weathered look of a man who had done real work and become wise during hard times. I would often drop by his house and watch him tinker with different motorcycle parts on his work bench in the evenings.

David now leaned back in his chair, one hand casually on the arm of a steel wire patio chair while taking a sip of beer with the other. He and I both had given up sport bikes but found we shared an enjoyment in kayaking. He was an avid fisherman and a relatively new but informed convert to the world of cryptozoology due to more than one experience that he had in the North Texas area. One of the events not far from where we sat now.

“So then what happened?” David said with a spark of interest in his eye…

Well we wanted to leave, I will tell you that! My wife said load the car but I said “Hell no! I’m not going back out there with those things running about.” I believe I had a convincing argument that we were better inside with a gun than running back and forth to the car in the dark. But I still wasn’t sure what it was. I was still in the mindset that it might be a common animal to the area, possibly a black bear? I had heard that there had been a bear sighting north of the area but much farther north than would allow for the excuse of a chance encounter. I grabbed my phone, connected to the WiFi and started searching Google for bear sightings in the area. As I scrolled through the listings the word Sasquatch caught my eye. I found nothing that convinced me that there were bears near us but finding an article of two young ladies sighting a beast run in front of their car headlights caused me to let out an audible gasp. “What, what did you find?” my wife asked. I looked at the location of the sighting and then pulled up Google Maps. “Oh Holy Hell!” I blurted out. My wife was becoming a little annoyed now. “What did you find!” – There have been apparently Big Foot sightings less than a quarter mile from our cabin, several of them. Also, whatever it was seemed to have an intelligence that a bear doesn’t exhibit to my knowledge. We both would normally laugh at anyone mentioning Big Foot encounters, waiving it off as a few beers too many or a highly imaginative mind. But it was looking more and more like we had just joined the Yeti Club ourselves. But why were they behind our cabin we wondered. There had to be a reason they were venturing so close.

I pulled up Google Maps. I am not a hunter myself, but I understand success is greater when one knows where the animal is coming from and where it is going and finding the trail it travels. I would think even Big Foot would move with a purpose and be a creature of habit. Just up the road, between our cabin and the location where the young women had their sighting, was a trail that ended at the asphalt. Tracing it back it went deep into an old growth forest. I can understand why Sasquatch would want to avoid walking down the side of a road but why would they be cutting behind our cabin?

Just then, we could see some lights from a car moving slowly down the road. It pulled off to the side, and as if it sighted something, sped off and left town! “Well that’s not good.” I said aloud. “They are making their way through the woods back to the trail” I guessed. Looking at Taylor Island it suddenly became clear to me. “Honey, I got it!” “They were going out for dinner” Look here… There were a row of cabins dotting the shore along the bayou, all of them fishing cabins. And what do fisherman do at the end of the day? Clean the fish and throw the scraps in the garbage. Our furry friends were cutting behind our cabins hoping to quietly make their way to their meals, undetected through the woods and swamp. The smell of our fish dinner earlier may have given one of them pause to investigate. The other calling out when their dinner date fell behind. “I wonder if there is a dating app for Yeti’s”, we laughed.

But it was still a reach. I am a skeptic and a person of science. I must see it to believe it and so far, I really had not seen anything. I had a hypothesis but no hard evidence, as is the case with many of these encounters.

David was now leaning in closer. A slightly buzzed college girl bumped our table as she and her friends passed by. The beers sloshed and she put her hand on David apologizing “I am soooo sorry”. We smiled, we were two older guys hanging out at a college bar, mainly because the beer was cheap but David had become a favorite of the establishment. The bartenders knew his drink, girls and guys would walk over and say hello and introduce their friends saying, “This is David” as if he was the Godfather of Fry Street. I was amongst royalty, I laughed. But he does have this charm about him that makes you feel, important and it seemed we had much in common besides just our name.

That night would be our last night in Uncertain, my wife and I laid with one eye open. The kids were tucked away and sleeping soundly but I kept the gun close and double checked all the window and door locks, as if a Yeti is going to bother with a doorknob or window latch. The names are interchangeable, Sasquatch, Yeti, Big Foot, Big Fluffy Fur Ball. One in the same to me. I would call it a friend if it shared its beer. But it appeared that they really didn’t want anything more to do with us than we did with them. They moved quietly through the forest, even in the moonlight they were still too camouflaged to be seen. Anything moving through those woods would have to have thick fur or hair and as it was, we could only see a few feet into the abyss. Miles and miles of forest and swamp only interrupted by an occasional thin dark ribbon of road. I wanted to see them, I wanted to know if they were real but did I really? It would possibly drive me mad.

Looking at David he asked, “So do you believe?” “Well”, I said “I am still a little skeptical but I am more of a believer now than I was before” He looked at me excitedly as if he wanted to tell me something that had been on his chest. “I don’t tell too many people this anymore but…” David leaned back in his chair, took a drink of his beer and his expression changed to one of seriousness as he said, “I had an experience myself not far from here, where Clear Creek meets the Trinity River on the edge of town”

David and I met years ago when I first started riding sport bikes. I had started on a small Ninja 250 and on my first evening in the parking lot of Mack Park Apartments had thrown the bike in the air by popping the clutch too soon. I held on for dear life and rode that bike like it was a bucking bronco. It was three days before I worked up enough courage to get back on it. Then one evening I managed to drive it to Fry Street. I pulled up in front of a local bar and grill called Cool Beans. David was there and asked me how I liked the bike, possibly sensing that I was still a greenhorn and having chicken strips on my tires, a sport bike term meaning that I had not leaned enough into turns to scuff the sides. Some seasoned riders would not even ride with you if you had chicken strips because you were likely to panic and cause an accident. But David is one of the coolest, most laid-back guys I know and always willing to help someone out.

After a burger and finishing off his drink David said, “Come on – Let’s go, I am going to teach you a few things” We jumped on our bikes and I followed him to a parking lot on the north edge of town called Stonehill Center. I followed him around the parking lot and imitated his moves. Cutting too sharp would cause me almost to fall and I soon learned by giving it a little more gas and leaning into the turn I had much more control of the bike. David slowed his bike and I pulled up beside him, his bike sounded like a beast and he now yelled over it saying, “I think you are ready for something a little more fun!” I followed him out of the parking lot and turned to the right. We then launched into what he called the twisties. The sharp turns that go up and over and then down and around the 288 overpass at I35. He would be two twisties ahead of me and have to slow his ride for me to catch up but I was getting the hang of it. I learned the art of counter steering and leaning low while giving the bike more gas so that it would do all the work while navigating the turns with more speed.

David now leaned toward me, the beer nearly knocking over as he grabbed it with an almost unnatural speed. “Listen, people don’t take me that seriously when I tell them about my encounter, but you seem to understand better than most” David said, now with a slightly wilder look in his eyes. He went on to tell me his story. He had been scoping out a fishing spot not far from the Clear Creek Natural Heritage Center just outside of Denton. It had rained the night before, a light cloud of fog still hung over the valley as he trudged through the mud with his fishing gear in tow. Then he noticed something strange, footprints. These were larger than your average human footprint and did not have the defining indention of the arch. They were more blocked and wider, almost padded looking. Like my experience, seeing a Sasquatch was really not on his mind as he walked along with the tracks. What was curious was why would anyone be barefoot this far out in a creek that might have an errant piece of glass or sharp stone. The tracks looked fresh and then suddenly veered off to the left up an embankment and into the woods. Standing there wondering how anyone would want to venture into a remote area and barefoot off a path was beyond him. Then he realized he was not alone. A noise in the distance caught his attention. He heard a thud, then another, then a loud crack as if a large branch had been snapped in half. Whatever was in the woods with him was now striking the side of a tree with the branch obviously trying to scare him off. I asked him, “How close were you to the Trinity?” “Not far at all” he replied. “What did you do?” I excitedly said. I could see he was still somewhat shaken just discussing the event. “Well, honestly, I was terrified being alone in the woods with something that could snap large branches, I left as fast as I could!” he said nervously.

As with many encounters, it happens quickly and is an assault on the senses as you become very aware that you may be in danger. Your sight, hearing, reasoning all seems heightened but so is your fear, as adrenaline courses through your body. Psychologists call this a fight or flight response as your brain tries to figure out whether you are in immediate danger and should fight off your attacker or whether you can escape your assailant and run to safety. Police Officers know this as “adrenaline dump” that they try to fight off so that it does not impair their judgement leading to success or tragedy when dealing with dangerous situations. In this case, David made the right decision by leaving the area but, much like my own event, he had an overwhelming curiosity. We would return to look for more footprints after a rain but finding nothing but baby wild pig hoof prints, we decided the mother hog was more a threat than any Yeti. Funny how he picked me, a slow, broken backed friend over others. Maybe it is true – you don’t have to run fast just faster than the slowest guy.

I would later read about a possible sighting called the pecan creek monster that was spotted by some kids in Denton near a wooded area. It upset the town so much that they launched a search team that found nothing. There have been other events along the greenbelt near Denton where kayakers hauling their kayaks around a raft of river logs would stumble across large tracks, much like what David had described. But no story was more convincing than the one I would hear from a water treatment worker while researching Clear Creek for kayaking. And his story helps put together some of the pieces as why these things are so often encountered near bodies of water and their clever methods for obtaining a free meal.

I poured over the maps following the long slivers of silver that were the creeks and water ways of Denton County. The two kayaks hanging in our garage longed to be sitting in water. I also love taking our kids creek walking. But before touching the water I want to know where it comes from. In some cases, we have found beautiful streams of clear water to be outflows from local sewage plants. It is treated but who wants to swim, wade or kayak in that! Clear Creek is no exception.

The headwaters of Clear Creek start in Montague County not far from St, Jo Texas once called Head of Elm. There is a lot of history here. Not far away Outlaw Nancy Hill was hung on Denton Creek. Belle Starr, Sam Bass, Jesse James and The Younger Gang all roamed these hills and a town of frontier men and women were scalped alive and killed by Indians where remnants of the ghost town still stand to this day. The Chisholm and Butterfield Stagecoach Trails also crisscross in the fields now occupied by barbed wire and grazing cattle.

Now I looked for all the water crossings, bridges, natural outcroppings. I squinted to see strainers where trees had fallen across the creek becoming a hazard to the lone kayaker. Much like the author of a favorite book of mine, Goodbye to a River, I wanted to know the history of the land my river would take me through. The souls that had walked here before me that had caressed her hills and valleys and lived off her fertile soil.

In my quest to know more I spoke with Fish and Game Wardens and eventually a man who oversaw the a nearby Waste Water Treatment Plant. I had been told that there were a couple of instances where sewage had flowed into Clear Creek but that millions of dollars had been spent updating the facilities. I asked him if he was concerned at all about the water quality. He told me that he lived on Clear Creek and he fishes the creek all the time, in fact he has trotlines that he tends, and his family frequently eats the fish they catch. It was convincing but finding where the inflow was at Ranger Branch, a creek that dumped into Clear Creek, I decided that anything farther up was safe as safe can be and this is where I would find the most enjoyment in water activities free from pee water.

We were just about to hang up when I asked him, “Doesn’t Clear Creek run into the Trinity?” He replied, “Yes it does, it runs through the Nature Center and connects just on the other side, we used to fish there”. With this I could not help but to gleefully ask him, “So, have you ever experienced anything unusual there?” This question was met with a long pause from an otherwise vocal man. “What exactly do you mean by unusual?” he finally replied.

The tone of the conversation changed as he told me that he hadn’t made a lot of talk about it in a long time. “We fished that area a lot when we were younger and before the greenbelt trail was cut through for joggers and cyclists.” He went on to explain how he and two other friends had gone as far as they could by pickup bouncing over fields and through washes to where they would disembark grabbing fishing poles and a cooler to hopefully keep the catch of the night. Still rubbing their eyes from the dust, they set off toward their destination. It was there a whirlpool would form during spring floods that would carve out a large hole where many fish would congregate. This is the place my friend David had been in search of when he had his encounter.

“It was late, maybe two in the morning, maybe three…” His voice becoming more ominous. “We had a pretty good haul and were just about to call it a night when suddenly we heard a crashing noise coming through the woods on the other side of the river.” he said as I held the receiver closer to my ear and adjusted the volume to high. “It was loud and it sounded big but it wasn’t a deer or a pig, it sounded taller, like it was running full sprint -- on two feet” I was almost incredulous at how similar his description was to my families own encounter and the one that my friend David had described. “It was running straight towards us but then suddenly, as if it knew we were there, veered off to the right and went upriver.”

“What did you do?”, I excitedly asked.

“We sat there, we didn’t even talk to each other we were so quiet listening for it” “It was scary but at least it was on the other side of the river” his voice said through some slight static on the phone. “Then we heard a splash and to our terror it swam across the river and that is when we knew we were really up shit creek!” (pun intended; cause well you know)

“We were terrified, whatever it was, it made it’s way down toward us through the woods and then just stopped.” He paused for a moment as if the memory of the event was almost too much for him. Me, on the other hand, I was on pins and needles. “What then?” I asked. “It was watching us, we couldn’t see it but we knew it was just standing there in the woods and it was larger than any of us – we got the Hell out of there, we even left the cooler behind full of fish.” “Whatever that SOB thing was got a belly full that night on our dime, that’s for sure!”

“People think I am crazy when I tell this story, so I just stopped telling it” His voice, a traitor, as it gave up his shaken nerves. “They are smart, and they are out there… you just won’t see them.”

About once every week or two after the kids go to sleep and my wife settles on the couch to watch a favorite show I go for a drive. It’s 30 minutes to the bend in the road that brings me closest to where our furry friend might be. I sit quietly listening, the familiar click click click as I load my .45 Single Action Colt, setting it beside me just in case a possible encounter becomes more than a fishing trip. Greeted by fireflies and the usual chilled mist the river bottoms bring, I drive slowly to the dead end where I always wonder whose land it might be. Then on back to home… I want to believe because it is so intriguing but other than a few hogs moving close to the road to give me a quick doubletake I am left with more questions than answers. But then, as it happens with everything you search for, I saw something I can’t take back. A glimpse but it was just enough.

I was still interested in finding a location for an easy put-in for kayaking the upper Clear Creek. Pouring over online maps I realized just how few places there are to access and enjoy our waterways. Most of the creeks and rivers pass through private land. Many may be navigable legally but getting to them without trespassing is another thing. One must then find and visit the few bridges that may pass over the waterway and a lot are difficult to get a kayak to, either because they are high cliffs or covered in poison ivy, trees, thickets and briar or the access is blocked by barbed wire or no trespassing signs that are debatable since it is a roadway easement.

I found several bridges I wanted to check out and I asked my son if he wanted to go. He had been on his technology and a drive with his dad would be a good break from the screen time that had consumed all his Saturday morning. So, we jumped in the car and I punched in the coordinates on the digital map.

I had not driven these backroads before and was glad to find a new place to explore. Texas is amazing for the change of scenery that can be found with just a few turns and twists in the road. Coming over a hill we looked out over the vast rolling plains of North Texas. A slight haze was settled over the prairies and I could see for miles and miles. Traveling the one lane roads were my favorite way to get away from the hustle and bustle of town. Except for an old dusty pickup squeaking by us, we seemed to be the only ones in the area. We arrived at the first bridge and we peered over the edges looking down on the pristine waters of Clear Creek. Being native to Texas, I have become accustomed to muddy creek waters and lakes, a mystery to what laid beneath. But this creek in many areas had a white sandy bottom that helped filter the water as it ran through its valleys. Little wavy sand dune looking structures could be seen just beneath the shimmering waters and fish darted here and there somehow aware of our presence, looking for a place to hide. I was excited to see a USGS water flow measuring device, which meant I could look it up online to find the best time to kayak based on the current flow rate. But I was disheartened to see a raft of debris on either side of a steep slope which would make it difficult to traverse with a kayak. It could be done but I was looking to find that one sweet spot to easily slide my kayak in across the sands and a safe place off road to park.

After throwing a few rocks and a few yells to check for an echo, my son and I loaded back into the car driving off the blacktop onto the gravel road. Around a corner we saw an old abandoned frontier looking home that must have been there for over one hundred years. Very little was back in this area but the gravel road looked to be used by a few ranchers tending to their cattle. We were looking for the end of the road where we thought there might be access to a bend in the creek. On the map we could see the road narrow and looking overgrown but ending at the waters edge. With the gravel clicking beneath our tires and the sound of cicadas all around we could smell the creek and the vegetation in the valley. Fresh cut grass filled the air and the sound of a lawn mower could be heard just ahead. We rolled to a stop at a gate with a big red sign that said No Trespassing. To the right of us was a log home and an older man who now cut the gas to his mower as he walked our way. He had a curious look in his eye and his skin had a leathered appearance from all the sun that he had seen while bailing hay in the fields above. “What ya’ll looking for?”, he said as he spat on the ground. “Well we are just taking a country drive and trying to find an easy way to Clear Creek”, I said with a kind of questioning nod towards the gate ahead. He spat again and said that was once a way to Clear Creek but the bridge washed out many years ago and the land was now owned and private. I told him I understood but before I could say anything else, he started coming closer to the car. I could see the butt of a gun sticking out of his pocket and as I smiled I slowly and quietly placed my hand on the 10mm Springfield that was tucked away just inside my door, but my son was between us and it was not an ideal situation for a shootout if things went raw.

He put his hand on the top of the car and squatted down a little looking at me with a squint in his eye. “We don’t get many people this far back” “In fact I haven’t seen a stranger in quite a while” he said as I now imagined this was going to end somewhere between The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Deliverance. “Well God finds angels amongst the forgotten” I replied, which caught him off guard a bit. He stood up and smiled as he turned back toward his mower. Waving us off as he walked, he said something peculiar “Ya’ll be careful on that creek” and then he pulled the cord and the mower turned over on the first try. I was impressed with his stature for a man his age, obviously hard work had left him in better shape than most who retire in those golden years.

We turned the car around and went on back down the road that we came. The frontier home made sense, as it stood on land that had probably been in the old man’s family for years, possibly at or before the formation of Texas. We were now back on the black top when I noticed a small trail that I had not seen on our first passing. Just before the bridge I could see where the grass had been laid down. It was getting close to dark and the suns cap was just now resting at the edge of the fields. The cicadas had quieted, and I thought I would take one more look before we headed back home. “Stay in the car, I won’t be but just a minute” I told my son as I stepped out.

Walking up to the concrete railing I put my hand on the dusty side. The fish had not seen me this time and I could just barely make out their outlines in the water. But something felt different. There was a slight smell beyond the usual humid vegetation and earthy aromas. It didn’t quite stink but it was rather unpleasant. Suddenly the wind picked up just as it does before a front comes through. The dust from the bridge was swept into my left eye and I yelled back at my son to roll up the car windows as I poured some water from my water bottle to nurse it. Before he could get his window up we could hear a noise in the woods. It sounded like something cracking. I was thinking possibly a tree limb was about to come down from the sudden high winds. But as I wiped the water from my eyes, I could see the smaller trees that grow along the banks parting. “Papa David, what was that?” my son yelled. “Nothing son, don’t get out of the car --- stay in the car!” I looked further down the bank and could see something moving quickly through the bushes and trees, throwing them aside. It was dark now, but I thought I could see patches of brown hair but then it stopped and quickly turned. I saw an eye, just the eye through a mass of vegetation and shadows. It looked at me and for that moment, I understood. This was a creature with intelligence. It stood there and then as quickly turned away melting into the forest and then the all too familiar splashing of a creature with two feet running. The memory of our encounter at Uncertain came back to me but this time I was more curious than scared. But my son was with me and I could not take any risks. Driving slowly by the fresh trail I felt more like I had interrupted someone’s fishing rather than having an actual encounter with a terrifying beast, in fact, maybe the beast that was so terrifying was actual me.

I heard the phone vibrate on the nightstand, I grabbed it and thumbed in the pass code after the facial recognition failed, probably because it wasn’t used to my face without a beard.

It was my friend David; I had texted him and asked him how his trip to Colorado had been. He was now in town drinking with some local cowboys and I could just imagine his easy laugh as he listened to their stories and shared a few of his own. The subject would come around to fishing, which is one of the great American pass times, especially in the mountain towns. Jokingly, I wrote him “Any squatches?” and now I stared at the screen as the text popped up “Got surrounded…”

David had gone to Colorado in search of the Golden Trout but had lucked out on the six lakes he had visited. However, one of the lakes was quite remote. He had driven off-road as far as his 4x4 could take him and parked it. Then throwing his gear on his back and securing his Sig he headed out on foot toward a destination with no trail. Hiking several miles through the forest he could see through the trees, the waters of Golden Lake. After setting his gear down where he would spend the night, he decided to wet a hook as he cast his line. To David fishing is not just an excuse for a beer and a bobber but an art form. He is a true fisherman, a hunter, willing to go further to find his prey. There is something primordial about catching and eating a fish. It is what sustained the earliest humans and allowed us to travel over large distances by creeks and rivers that are the veins of this great land. A good fishing spot is coveted by the fisherman and is often a carefully guarded secret to maintain one’s connection of self with nature, absent of interruption.

Now, as David explained, in digital format, he had just gotten back to camp and started a fire when he heard a knock in the woods, the same as before during his encounter on Clear Creek. He listened, everything in the forest that far out is crisp and clear. There is no other noise pollution such as highway sounds and the constant buzz of city life. It is just you, the wind and whatever that stirs in the darkness.

He sat there crouching; his ear cocked to one side as he stoked the fire prepping for an evening’s meal. And then another one! Closer this time but too the East of camp, where the other one had been across the lake to the North. This was not just a coincidental limb falling, it was intentional. He sat motionless, alone and miles from any civilization. I asked him what he did then? He wrote back, “I was terrified!” “There was no trail to this lake, I should have known better”, he admitted. I asked him if there was any way it could have been a bear, but he said that there was a third knock to the West of camp and it appeared that they were either communicating or trying to scare him. He decided that there was nothing he could do and was resolved to make dinner, build the fire higher and keep his Sig close but out of sight. His lacking in aggressive posturing is what he believes may have saved him. “So will you go back?” I asked him. “Not alone” I took this as a possible invitation to a Sasquatch hunt to be considered for later.

Now, I sit in my car with the windows down, a thud from a small branch landing on the roof of my SUV startles me as I listen to the night sound of distant howls trumpeting. If you ask me if I believe in Sasquatch I will flash you a slight smile and tell you that I am Uncertain. But what I am certain of, is that at the end of this road that I am parked, sits one of the scariest abandoned houses I have ever seen. And that might be the making of a story for another time… [The End]

Uncertain Video: https://youtu.be/Toi4b6zzbkA

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