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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years ago

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Happiness Continues

Part 8: 27 Weeks Pregnant

Summary: The guys and their wives take a drive up to Dallas for a Creation convention. The weekend goes great until an uninvited guest shows up.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 6.4K+

Warnings: Language, angst, stalker scenarios, psuedo-kidnapping

Author’s Note: I know this was uber delayed, but school... anyway I hope it lives up to your expectations. Congrats to @waywardbeanie @jensengirl83 and @akshi8278 on getting your questions into the fic and a huge thank you to everyone that participated. I wish I could have put all the questions in but it would have just been too long of a chapter. But please know I really do appreciate you all. The song sung in this chapter is by The Highwomen called Crowded Table, check it out if you’ve not heard it before. And of course many thank you’s to @emoryhemsworth for being the best beta xo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The sound of ice dropping from the refrigerator and into the metal thermos clanged around the kitchen. Once she was satisfied with the amount in her water bottle, she topped it off with water. As she turned around, screwing the lid into place, the soft hums of her husband could be heard as he came out of their bedroom, their suitcases trailing behind him.

“You know,” she started, the humming coming from her partner reminding her of something, “you still haven’t told me what song you chose to sing tonight.”

“And you know I told you it was a surprise,” he replied, placing the luggage out of the way and coming to stand next to her at the island.

“I hate surprises.”

“No, you don’t.” Dimples formed on his cheeks as he kept his smile tight-lipped, his wife rolling his eyes at her.

“Please! Just tell me,” she jutted out her lower lip in a vain attempt at mocking her brother’s puppy-eyed look.

“Fine, I chose “Having My Baby,’” Jensen sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“You did not! Please tell me you are kidding.”

“What’s wrong with Paul Anka? That song is a classic.” The actor stood up taller, his voice growing defensive.

“I hope to god you are kidding because believe me when I say that if you so much as mention your ‘seed’ in front of hundreds of fans, I’m taking this baby and I’m leaving.” Y/n pointed to the still-growing bump attached to her abdomen before flicking it towards the door, the most serious expression written on her face.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine,” Jensen cleared his throat, and she knew it was coming before he even had the chance to open his mouth again. “The need inside you, I see it showin’, oh, the seed inside you, baby, do you feel it growin’—”

Y/n’s hands flew to her ears, the ‘la, la, la’ falling from her lips in an attempt to drown him out. His face split into a wide grin as he snatched her wrists and pulled his wife into his chest, placing a soft kiss to her nose before her lips.

“You’d be so lucky, baby, but no, it’s a surprise. You will find out tonight, so let it go.” Jensen released her from his grip as the security system chimed. It noted movement near the garage door just before the couple heard the voice of her brother coming from the other end of the house.

“Let’s go, Ackles, we’ve got three antsy kids in the car and need to hit the road pronto!” Y/n snatched her backpack and water bottle from the counter as Jensen grabbed their bags and headed towards the garage. The guys took the bags to stuff them in the trunk as Y/n set the house alarm.

Jensen pulled open the passenger side rear door to the Padalecki’s SUV, helping his wife into her seat before climbing in the front passenger seat. They greeted Jared’s kids as the family set out on the road towards Dallas and the Supernatural convention.

****

The sign that flew by on the side of the highway indicated that Dallas was about eighty miles out still, giving them at least another hour until they made it. The kids had long since fallen asleep in the backseat, their bellies full of snacks and their distractions in hand. Y/n glanced back at them before digging out the bag of Goldfish she had packed for her snack. Before she could even get it completely open, her husband’s hand appeared between the side of the vehicle and the seat, palm up. The woman chuckled before dumping a handful into his hand. He transferred the crackers to his left hand before returning his right to its original place to rest it on her calf. Jensen ran his fingers up and down her leg, the action soothing to both of them.

From the seat next to her, Y/n could see her sister-in-law turned to her, a knowing grin on her face. For being an actress, Gen sure did have an awful poker face.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just really happy you two found each other,” the smile on Gen’s face growing wider as she spoke, the eyes of the men in the front seats flickering back to her. Jared glanced over from the driver’s seat just quick enough to see what Gen was referring to. There was a twitch of a smile on his face too before he covered it up to fake a gag. “Speaking of, how was Toronto?”

“Oh, I’m in love with Toronto!” Y/n gushed, her mind going back to the trip she made to visit her husband on set. Because of the break-in, they were making up filming days and he couldn’t get away, so the couple decided to celebrate their first anniversary together with her going to visit him. “The city is so beautiful, albeit not as beautiful as Vancouver, but there is just something about it. It reminds me of New York a lot, but like, cleaner.”

“You two had a good weekend?”

“We did. Jensen took me to Alo for dinner, and I know I’m pregnant, but it was the best food I’ve ever had in my life. I wanted to take the chef home with me.” Thinking back to the dish she had, Y/n ran a hand across her abdomen, the memory of her baby coming to life after the meal making her smile to herself.

“I believe you, even if there is something about being pregnant that just makes everything taste better,” Gen giggled along with her sister-in-law, the two of them sharing a secret that their husbands would never understand. “I’m glad you had a good time with what you had.”

“Well, either way, I was going into my third trimester. I was not up for some extravagant trip across the globe. My back hurts too much to pretend to be relaxed.” As she thought about the way her body had continued to change as the finish line came onto the horizon, it was like her body throbbed in response. The makeup artist flexed her limbs, rolling out the kinks from sitting for too long in one position.

“I’m sorry girl, but it only gets worse from here,” Gen scrunched her nose, wishing she could tell her anything but the truth.

Y/n sighed, the action rolling through her whole body, “I was afraid of that.”

****

Clif was waiting at the back doors to the convention center of the Hilton where Creation was hosting their convention this weekend. He was there to escort them all inside as well as stay with Gen and Y/n during the show. Creation provided their own security for Jensen and Jared, so Clif was more than happy to spend time with his favorite girls. They were running a tad late, having hit traffic after dropping the kids off with Jensen’s parents who had graciously offered to babysit.

“Hey, kid,” Clif greeted Y/n with a bear hug once they were inside, his large arms engulfing her and squeezing tight. “Let me look at ya.”

Y/n stepped back as he released her, running a hand over her now unmistakable bump to emphasize it underneath her maternity clothes. “Not much of a kid anymore.”

“No, you aren’t, are ya? Went and let this idiot over here corrupt you.” Clif locked his arm around Jensen’s neck, bringing him into his chest to ruffle his hair with the opposite hand. The group laughed and Jensen struggled to get out of his hold, his hands immediately flying to fix his hair once Clif relented.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Jared,” Jensen scowled at his friends, who shared a look and a shrug. He took his wife’s hand and moved to continue down the hall before pausing to turn back. “And I’ll have you know, she was already corrupted when I got ahold of her. All I had to do was sit back and enjoy the ride.”

A gasp of her husband’s name fell from her open mouth as he tossed everyone a wink and pulled Y/n deeper into the hotel. Her surprise morphed into a giggle as he pulled her along, her cheeks flaring with residual embarrassment. Her family was bound to push him too far one of these days, and she was just waiting for him to drop some sort of bomb on their unsuspecting ears. She just hadn’t anticipated it would be today.

Jensen had been in a particularly good mood since that morning. Y/n couldn’t place whether it was the excitement of being at a convention again or if it was being home, but whatever had him smiling like an idiot she was thankful for. Jensen’s attitude had always been infectious, and right now she was thriving off of it, the joy of being able to make her forget about her swollen ankles and face. It was nice to be in the moment for once.

Louden Swain was already starting their soundcheck on the main stage as she and Jensen entered the hall. Y/n let Jensen go and went to sit in the chairs in the front row to watch them busy themselves around the stage. She was alone until Clif, Jared, and Gen caught up and joined her in the seats. It didn’t take long for the band to run through everything with all their guest stars who would be performing with them. Jensen did a quick verse from “Like A Wrecking Ball” before also joining those that were in the audience.

The fans could be heard already outside the doors to the hall, their excitement palpable even from a couple of hundred feet away. Not that she blamed them, Louden Swain always put on an amazing show, as did the rest of the cast who chose to join them. Her husband was obviously her favorite to watch; the rough honey trickle of his voice had a way of splitting her soul in half. After that, she was obsessed with watching Briana. The woman was a powerhouse and had a way of captivating everyone watching her. It was no secret that she often found herself on YouTube watching Bri and her husband dueting “Shallow,” making it her most-watched video by far.

Everyone was escorted to the green room while fans filled the hall, then Clif escorted them back to watch from the sidelines once the lights went down. They took a seat in the chairs that had been put aside for them against the wall, joining in the squeals of the audience when the guys took the stage.

Louden Swain captivated everyone with their songs and stage presence, as per usual, but when Rob introduced Jensen onto the stage, it was like a train had just rammed into the wall of the hotel. She could feel the floor shaking underneath the insanity that ripped through his fans in the seats of the audience.

“Well, good evening Dallas!” Jensen bounded on the stage, the leather jacket he was wearing somehow looking that much better in the lights of the stage. The Texan pulled Rob into a tight hug before taking his place in front of the microphone stand. The stubble that had arrived in just a few days of not shaving was more evident on his jaw and neck as he craned it sideways to work the stand up to his height. Y/n had to admit he looked absolutely scrumptious.

“I’ve got a new song for you guys tonight that the guys have been so gracious to learn for me.” Jensen paused for the screams from the crowd before continuing his introduction. “This one is for my wife. I love you, honey.” He cast his eyes to where she was seated, watching the smile that spread across his features and letting it calm her anxious heart.

You can hold my hand

When you need to let go

I can be your mountain

When you're feeling valley-low

I can be your streetlight

Showing you the way home

You can hold my hand

When you need to let go

I want a house with a crowded table

And a place by the fire for everyone

Let us take on the world while we’re young and able

And bring us back together when the day is done

Jensen’s foot tapped against the stage as he found his groove in the first verse. Almost instantly, Y/n recognized the opening chords to the song making her heart flutter in her chest. She’d first discovered this song before they’d even found out they were expecting. There was an instant connection to the lyrics, and in typical Y/n fashion, she had played the song on repeat until she knew the lyrics backward and forwards. She really couldn’t believe he’d remembered it.

If we want a garden

We’re gonna have to sow the seed

Plant a little happiness

Let the roots run deep

If it’s love that we give

Then it’s love that we reap

If we want a garden

We're gonna have to sow the seed

After everything the two of them had been through the past few months, the lyrics falling from his lips brought tears to her eyes. She chose to completely ignore the fact that she was pregnant. This was his way of reminding her of that night and the promise he’d made. The actor was more than ready to start a family with her, and he would keep reminding her until he ran out of breath.

The door is always open

Your picture’s on my wall

Everyone’s a little broken

And everyone belongs

Yeah, everyone belongs

I want a house with a crowded table

And a place by the fire for everyone

Let us take on the world while we’re young and able

And bring us back together when the day is done

If Y/n thought that the screams that greeted Jensen on the stage were deafening, it had nothing on the roar that now filled the hall, never mind the thrumming of her heart in her chest. She was sure time had stopped. Her husband blew a kiss to the audience before bowing off stage. It was his disappearance from before the mic that had on her feet without a second thought, chasing after him behind the stage and to the green room.

She burst through the doors, her eyes meeting his as he turned to the sound of the latch. Without a second thought to the others in the room, the pregnant woman launched herself into her husband’s arms. Both of them dug their faces into the embrace, knowing just what the other needed at that moment.

“You’re right, I did love this surprise,” she mumbled against his neck. Jensen ran a hand down her hair, his arms instinctively squeezing her tighter to him as she spoke.

“Anything for you, babe.”

****

Behind the scenes of conventions was far less exhilarating for the guests than it was for the fans attending. It was quiet in the green room, most people eating or napping in between events they were to attend, which was why Y/n and Gen chose to stay behind the next morning and let the kids sleep in as much as possible. The guys were up at the crack of dawn to get to the hotel in time for the gold panel, and neither wanted to deal with pulling three little ones out of bed that early.

It was nearly midday by the time the girls had wrangled the kids into the car and to the hotel. Clif met them at the back door much like he had done the night before, ready to escort them wherever they wanted to go. When they arrived in the green room, the guys were off to their respective photo op rooms.

The kids took center stage when they got there, livening up the room in an instant. Odette fed off the attention far more than her brothers did but being the youngest, that didn’t come as a shock to anyone. Y/n wanted to hit the vendor’s room before her husband got back and they had to be on stage for the main panel. There were often hidden gems at some of the booths and she wanted to support the small business that set up there. She invited Gen to join her, and naturally, Odette wanted to tag along. The two of them left the boys in the capable hands of Kim and Briana before grabbing Clif and heading out.

The room was bustling with people who were in between activities when they entered. Y/n picked up the small girl and put her on her hip so she could keep better track of her, not that Odette protested. They made their way to a booth surrounded by original artwork. Most of the displayed pieces were Supernatural related, but there were a few other pieces that encompassed other shows and movies, as well as art that encompassed just about anything else. Y/n got the artist’s information, intending to order an original piece from her.

From there, it didn’t take long for the room to realize who had joined them. The hushed whispers of the con attendees could be heard as they moved on to a shop that sold handmade jewelry. Luckily the looming presence of Clif was enough to keep people at bay. He was very good at subtly guiding those who dared to walk up to them away from the scene. Right now they preferred peace and would greet some people once they were finished looking.

Gen bought something from the jeweler for Odette, seeing as once the toddler set her mind to something, she was relentless. Then the trio moved on to a few more booths before acknowledging the fans in the room. Clif took Odette from Y/n while the wives talked with some people in the room. There were many congratulations and asks for photos which Y/n politely declined while Gen agreed.

With a glance at her watch, Y/n signaled to Gen it was time to head back. They said goodbye to the fans and headed back to the green room. Jared and Jensen were back already when they entered, eating a quick snack before they had to go back on stage.

Jensen pushed his chair back from the table when he spotted his wife. He patted his thigh as she made her way towards him and she took a tentative seat in his lap. The actor placed a kiss on the underside of her jaw before offering her the food on his plate. She decided on a carrot, biting into the hard vegetable as her husband spoke.

“I missed you this morning.”

“I know, I missed you too. Still hate waking up to an empty bed,” she frowned, tossing the other half of the carrot in her mouth.

“Just a few more weeks, then I’m done and it’s just you, me, and this baby,” Jensen promised, resting his large hand over her growing abdomen. He ran his thumb over the swell of her stomach as she contemplated his words.

“Promise?” She cocked her head, knowing full well he intended every word. Before he could answer, the Creation handlers appeared to grab the boys and bring them to the stage.

“Promise,” he kissed her again before urging her off his lap so they could head out. Gen rounded up the kids to go and Jared picked up his daughter to carry her out to the show. Jensen and Y/n walked hand in hand down the back hallway until they had to go separate ways. Jared handed Odette over to his wife and they were off to get show-ready.

The girls and the kids followed behind Clif and took the empty seats in the front row far off on the right side of the stage, the lights lowering just as they were getting settled. Rob and Rich appeared and did their usual bit before introducing the boys onto the stage.

Watching them together was something Y/n always enjoyed. The two actors played off of each other so well and never failed to make her chuckle. Especially now, she loved that after everything that had happened, their relationship was not hindered. They were truly brothers on and off camera, and Y/n couldn’t ask for anything better.

Jensen went to his usual chair on the right side of the stage, pulling it more forward and center before sitting down as the crowd continued to cheer for them. Jared followed suit, spinning his chair around and putting as close to Jensen’s as was humanly possible. Her husband frowned and leaned away from Jared, who only played along and leaned into his best friend.

Jensen brought the mic to his lips and scowled, “Dude, why are you so close to me?”

“Cause we’re family now, officially bonded by blood,” Jared retorted, still trying to lean into Jensen as he continued to pull away. The older man rolled his eyes at his brother-in-law’s antics but couldn’t fight the smile on his face as the crowd cheered at Jared’s words.

“Don’t remind me.” Jared leaned into Jensen, whispering something in his ear before the pair shared another laugh. Jared spun around and started the questioning. They got a few typical questions about Supernatural and the final season, nothing too crazy, but one specifically piqued Y/n’s interest.

The girl asking the question stood not even twenty feet from her at the mic on the right side of the room. “My question is for Jensen.” Her voice was steady, but she was looking at her feet as she spoke. “Now that you are on The Boys, the show has far more carnage than Supernatural, and you have said in the past that you dislike being covered in fake blood, so I was wondering if you have come to terms with it, or has your hatred only grown?”

Jensen threw his head back in laughter at her question, surprised that he hadn’t been asked it before today. “Well, you are right, I have not been shy about my contempt of stage blood, but nowadays I do find it far less annoying than I once did. I think I got over it filming season fifteen. There is nothing like staring at a beautiful woman to take your mind off of the stickiness. Y/n was a great distraction.”

“Alright, that’s my baby sister you are talking about,” Jared faked a gag before dropping his mic in his usual fashion as the crowd let out a collective ‘awe.’ Jensen shrugged before moving on to the next question. He rounded to the next fan on the opposite side of the stage.

“Hi,” the boys said in unison, bright smiles on their faces for the girl.

“First of all, I want to congratulate Jensen on the pregnancy. So, my question is for Jensen and Jared. Jensen, since you learned about the pregnancy, has your perception of life and love changed, and if so, how? And for Jared, being a father yourself, what are some things or advice you would like to share with Jensen? How has becoming a dad changed you? Thank you!” The girl stuttered around her words, her nerves of having the guy’s undivided attention seeping through her voice.

“What?!” Jared dropped his jaw as he turned his head back to look at his brother in law in the seat next to him. “You’re pregnant?”

Jensen leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his torso, “Do you think I’m showing yet?”

“No dude, you look good, women everywhere hate you.” The duo fell into a fit of laughter, their heads were thrown back in unison at their stupid joke. Naturally, the whole crowd joined in. How could one not when those two were cracking up? It was infectious.

“I’m sorry about my friend here. Thank you, we are very excited.” Jensen leaned around Jared to smile at the fan that stood with a Random Acts volunteer’s arm around her shoulders. “As for your question, it didn’t really hit me until we heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. Anyone who has kids knows how important that moment is. I never thought I could love my wife more than I already did, but there is something about looking at the woman you love carrying your child. It’s a completely different kind of connection to another human being. As for our baby, well, she was just a flicker on the screen then, but I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do for that flicker.”

“Y/n is gonna kill you later for saying ‘she,’” Jared cut in, but Jensen just smirked knowingly. The man always had to cut the emotion with a joke, something the pair of them had in common. Life was too short to always be so serious anyway.

“Well, what about you dad?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She asked you a question too, so answer it,” Jensen reminded his costar, much to the amusement of everyone around them.

“Oh yeah. Well, I’ve given Jensen tons of advice. He’s constantly coming to me for my superior wisdom.” Jensen frowned behind him, his eye roll visible even from the back of the room. “Nah, but in all seriousness, the best piece of advice I could ever give him would be to just be there for your wife, whatever she needs. She just gave you a child, the least you could do is get her some water and snacks during feedings.”

In the shadows of the audience, Gen leaned over to Y/n, whispering in her ear, “I think he’s done that maybe twice.” Y/n laughed along with her friend, knowing full well that sounded just like Jared.

“Being a dad has taught me an abundance of patience and understanding. While they are your kids, they are also humans with real feelings and thoughts. It’s important to listen to your children, and I mean really listen to them. It’s not easy some days, but what they’ll remember in twenty years is whether mom and dad were there or not, so that’s what’s most important to me.” The girl whispered a shaky ‘thank you’ to the guys before they moved on. There were more questions about Supernatural, Walker, and The Boys, but what Y/n didn’t expect was another question regarding her, the words cutting her like ice as they left the fan’s mouth.

"Now that Y/N is pregnant, how hard is it being away from her while filming? How do you handle the emotions of being away from your wife in this kind of situation?" The fan had a bright smile on her face as she asked a question that was sure to have the fans falling even more in love with her husband and the amazing man he was.

Gen’s hand fell on her shoulder as she noticed her sister-in-law’s body tense, awaiting the answer from the actor on stage. Jensen turned his gaze to her, offering a small smile to her before turning back to the fan.

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I feel like I’m dumping everything on her shoulders and leaving her to figure it out alone, and I hate that. You know, I made a promise to her on our wedding day that I would always be there for her, and I feel like I’m breaking that promise. On the nights that the baby is rolling around and not letting her get any sleep, she will FaceTime me to show me, and anyone who’s ever seen this knows it’s just as cool as it is creepy when it looks like the kid is trying to escape from her stomach.” Jared nodded in agreement alongside him as the audience laughed at his admission. “My heart clenches in those moments because I know there are a hundred other moments that I don’t get to be there for, but even more so that my wife doesn’t get to have me next to her for. I know it’s just as hard on her, experiencing all these new milestones alone. We are both just very lucky that she has Jared and Gen so close. Those two have been her rock through this whole thing.”

“If there is anyone who can handle it, it’s Y/n,” Jared cut in, sensing his friend’s growing discomfort. “My sister is one of the strongest women I know, so don’t worry about her too much, Jay.”

“Right, yes my mistake, what was I thinking worrying about my pregnant wife?” The shorter Texan played up his words with a stiff nod of his head, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. The guys thanked the fan for her question just as Rob and Rich came back on stage, starting up the last question song. Y/n excused herself then to go to the restroom, assuring Clif she’d be okay and she would be right back, imploring him to stay with Gen and the kids.

The pregnant woman slipped past Creation security near the stage to the hall that led to the bathrooms. She sped down the hall on her toes, the urgency not hitting her until she stood up. Her mind was focused on getting to the bathroom, unconcerned about anything else until she was inside the first open stall. Y/n took care of her business, coming out of the stall to a figure standing directly across from her at the sinks. Her eyes trailed up the broad person who had their back to her until she met their eyes in the mirror.

“No!” The gasp left her lips, her feet instinctively stepping backward until her back hit the stall.

“Hi, Y/n,” the man’s voice was rough, the sound of grating against every nerve in her body. It perfectly matched the smirk that he held as he turned to face her, the same smirk that had been haunting her dreams for weeks now. The woman swallowed around the lump in her throat as her pulse rose, the thrum of it beating behind her ears.

“How?” It was the only thing she could force past her lips as her mind raced through all the possible outcomes of this encounter. If anything, she was trying to buy time until someone came looking for her, but she had no idea how long that could be.

“I expected a hello, but I guess I can’t really blame you,” the guy shrugged, his nonchalance unsettling Y/n even more than she already was. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time now.”

“Waiting for me?”

“It was only a matter of time before we found our way to each other,” he took a step closer to Y/n, her heart skipping in her chest at the action. No matter how frightened she was at this moment, Y/n refused to back down. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin at the man.

“Wh-what do you want?” Her tongue tripped over her words and the woman fought to control her breaths, letting the air out slowly through her nose as she refused to look away from the stalker across from her.

“I want you. It’s always been you. For years I’ve waited for you to come to your senses about that actor you call your husband, but it seems you may need a little push,” he explained as his feet began to pace in a line, cutting off her only route to the door of the bathroom, to her freedom.

“Excuse me?” Y/n was genuinely confused now, her adrenaline-soaked brain struggling to comprehend what he was telling her.

“He’s all wrong for you. The bastard married you and ran off to Canada the second he could, leaving you to tend to his house, and now look at you, knocked up with his spawn and he still could give a rat’s ass about you.” The man’s voice was rising in tone as he became agitated, with what exactly she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“My husband loves me—”

“No!” He rounded on her, his pacing halted as he looked at her. “He’s poison. He doesn’t care about you or your career, he only cares about what you can do for him, but me? I’ve been your number one fan since the beginning. With me, your possibilities are limitless. Nobody could stop us.”

It was now even more apparent to her at that moment that this guy was far more unhinged than she had originally thought. He believed with every fiber of his being that what he was saying was the truth, she could see it in the fire raging behind his eyes. It was the same fire that had her biting her tongue from firing back. She had more than just herself to think about in this situation, and she had no one way of knowing how he would react, but she also knew that staying in that bathroom was not an option either.

It was now or never. He was no longer pacing across her escape route, and she wasn’t that far from the door. If she could at least get on the other side of it, she could create a commotion to draw attention. The second his eyes flickered from her own, she leaped into action, setting her focus on the door, and only the door. As her fingers wrapped around the handle, she felt his rough grip on her bicep. She was only able to get the door open a fraction of an inch, but it was enough. Her frantic eyes met with the shocked ones of Gen and Clif on the other side of the door.

“Damn it!” He hollered as he yanked her back. The door didn’t even have time to close before Clif was pushing his way into the bathroom after her, watching as Y/n stumbled and nearly fell on her ass from the force of the stranger’s pull.

“Alright, let her go,” Clif’s voice was calm and demanding as he assessed the scene in front of him. “Don’t make this worse for you than it already is.”

“You make it sound so easy,” the guy chuckled dryly, the sound of it finally breaking whatever false sense of confidence Y/n had created. Preparing for a struggle, she squeezed her eyes shut, the action sending the welled up tears cascading down her cheeks.

“It is that easy. Because trust me, if you hurt her, it will be the last thing you ever do.” The sound of the bathroom door opening again had her opening her eyes, a few of Creation’s security guards filing in to back up Clif. Knowing he was outnumbered, the man roughly released his grip on Y/n’s arm. The pregnant woman scrambled away from him, past security, and out into the hallway.

“Y/n...” The sudden grip around her wrist startled the traumatized woman, her body reacting against it until her gaze met the familiar green eyes of her husband. Her body relaxed in an instant, throwing her into his arms as a sob racked through her body. Jensen squeezed his wife in his arms, holding her shaking frame close to his chest as she let out all her emotions. He shared a look with Jared before burying himself into her as well, just as relieved to have her back as she was to be free.

It had only been about thirty seconds since Gen had come running back from checking on Y/n to tell them that something was wrong, but it was all it took. He felt his heart sink as he looked at the fear in Gen’s eyes. He and Jared were up from their chairs like lightning, allowing their long legs to get them to the bathroom with security hot on their tail. It killed him to have to wait outside, but he knew it was the best chance of getting her out of there safely, so he bit his tongue and did as he was told. None of that mattered now anyway, she was safe in his arms, and that was the most important thing.

It felt like an eternity later when the cops showed up, taking the place of the unarmed security detail. They emerged with the guy in cuffs, a deep scowl on his face as he was carted out of the hotel, Clif and the security following behind.

“Clif, what the fuck happened?!” Jensen growled, fury about the day’s events creeping upon him, seeing the guy that had his hands on his wife only fanning the fire in his belly.

“I’m sorry, Jensen—” Clif's words were cut off by the raging actor.

“You’re sorry? You were supposed to be protecting her!” Y/n lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder, using the back of her sleeve to wipe away the tears and snot from her face. The man’s whole body was tense, the anger rolling off of him of barely perceptible vibrations.

“Hey, Jay,” she put her hands on his face, making him look at her. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from Clif to look at his wife, his face softening as he took in her fragile state. “It’s not his fault. I told him to stay with Gen.”

“Y/n/n...”

“No. Clif is not to blame right now and you know it,” Y/n lowered her voice, the little bit of sternness she was able to muster dissipating. “You’re scared and I am too, but don’t take that out on him.” Jensen nodded at her, leaning in to kiss her forehead with trembling lips.

“I’m sorry, Clif,” Jensen breathed, his eyes opening slowly to look back up at his long time friend. Still trying to come to his senses over what had just happened, he had one arm around his wife, refusing to break contact with her. The fear of being out of control was still too overpowering.

“It’s okay, I understand.” The two men shared a nod. Emotions were still on high, and everyone needed a moment to take in the events that had just transpired. Before anything else could be said, one of the cops cut through the tense scene playing out in the middle of the hotel hallway. He had a concerned look on his face, but he had a job to do too.

“Ma’am, can I ask you a couple of questions?”

Main Panel Timestamps x/x

Part 9: 35 Weeks Pregnant

Forevers: @22sarah08 @akshi8278 @anathewierdo @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @katehuntington @lyarr24 @malfoysqueen14 @miss-nerd95 @mrsjenniferwinchester @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93 @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @smol-and-grumpy @suckmyapplejacks @superfanficnatural @supraveng @talesmaniac89 @tranquility-or-chaos @waywardbeanie @winchest09

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts @anaelsbrunette @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67 @deanbowlegsackles @deangirl93 @deans-baby-momma @death-unbecomes-you @dvnmbabe @fangirl199813 @harryhook-lover @hoboal87 @itsdesiree86 @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you @lunarmoon8 @neverland14353 @onethirstyunicorn @parinarain @rebeccathefangirl @rebelemilu @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @traceyaudette @winchestergirl82 @winqhster @zpandaqueen

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

The Cowboy - Part 10

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) -- swearing, and I’ve never been to a rodeo in real life so I probably didn’t make a fully realistic scene, so don’t hate me, it’s fiction lol

Word count: 2281

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

It truly was another world. The country music was playing live from the stage nearby and the endless row of stalls selling assortments from horse gear to food overstimulated you. You had lost Avery in the crowd, the tall man crossing paths with a group of women from high school.

Jaehyun smirked. “He’s always been the popular one.”

“And you the troublemaker?” you offered and Jaehyun laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re the troublemaker. How do you propose I deal with worrying about you when I’m warming up Trickster soon? Maybe you should come with me.”

“I’ll be fine exploring whilst you do that. I’ve seen you ride so much now, I’m convinced your butt is a perfect shape to mold to any saddle seat.”

“Well, you should know, having seen my butt how many times now?”

“Jaehyun!” you gasped, slapping his upper arm and looking around yourselves. You relaxed, realising you saw no familiar faces nearby.

He seemed to read your mind. “Avery knows about us. He’s helping me out by keeping his mother clueless.”

“Would anyone else come from Blayne today?” you asked, and Jaehyun shook his head.

“Not really. It’s more so people from the town over that will. And whilst you’re a household name in Blayne, you’re not on familiar terms yet with others. Which means…”

“Which means?” you repeated, grinning when Jaehyun reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. You looked down at the gesture. “I felt that tremble, Jaehyun.”

“What tremble?” he feigned innocence for only a moment. “Maybe I have some butterflies about today. I want this to go well.”

“It will. I know it will.”

“Because I have your support?” he teased, and you shook your head, trying not to roll your eyes.

“Because it’s a passion of yours. I can tell you want this opportunity.”

“It would be real nice. Joey told me if I qualify, he can help me with the training. I’ll need to find extra time to do it, maybe travel to his barn a few times a week for evening training but it’s doable.”

“You’re so cute, you know that?” you said, recycling one of Jaehyun’s lines. He picked up on it and laughed. “I like seeing you this hopeful.”

“I’m hopeful about us too.”

“You are?”

“If I win today, my Dad will be pretty chuffed. Maybe we could tell him about us.”

“No more acting like teenagers over this. We’re grown adults, Jaehyun. Regardless of if you win or not, let’s tell him. I’m planning on meeting with him on Thursday for my business proposition, so if that goes well, I doubt he’ll have any concerns about us.”

“This is my Dad we’re talking about. There’s a whole lot about him, about us, that you don’t know.”

“Are you hiding someone in the attic?!” you asked, gasping dramatically. Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “You’ve got an entirely different life kept behind closed doors? How about being the culprit to-”

“Here you two are,” Avery interrupted, eyeing your linked hands with high interest. “Is this why you wanted to come today, Y/N? Away from the prying Blayne eyes, you can finally go on a date with your beau?”

“A date?” you pondered before looking up at Jaehyun. He grinned. “We’ve been on a few of those already in Blayne.”

“And no one knows that you two are together? Woah, I’m impressed with how well you’ve covered them up.”

“Not for long,” Jaehyun announced and you smiled happily, nodding in agreement. “But I am mighty glad you’re back, Avery. Can you keep an eye on this one? I’m sure if left to her own devices, some of the sellers in the market here will have her pulling out money she doesn’t need to spend.”

“You’re insulting my judgment so easily!” you called after Jaehyun’s departing back.

Avery grinned. “Well, you chose him over me. I’ve been doubtful of your taste this whole time.”

“Avery McConnell?”

Spinning to see another woman approach you both, you grinned. “He’s all yours. I’m going to go watch from the stadium.”

An hour had passed by, and you were struggling with the concept of being at a rodeo. On one hand, it was thrilling to watch but also reckless. You knew there was a danger behind the sport, as there was with most sports. But you didn’t realise how easy it was to fall off at this calibre of competition.

You gasped as a young girl, no older than fifteen hit into a barrel and her horse was deep in the turn, losing its footing and the pair fell, the horse landing on top of her. With bated breath, you watched as she managed to get back to her feet, albeit with an evident hobble.

“Your first time?” an older woman asked knowingly, and you nodded. “Not from around here?”

“Originally from the city,” you admitted sheepishly, and the woman laughed.

“Called that by a mile.”

“Do I stand out that much?”

“You’re no country pumpkin like me, that’s for sure.”

“Ah.” You looked her over and smiled. “I think you’re lovely.”

“I wasn’t meaning how we look, love. You’re here to support your boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“And he’ll come out here soon, and you’ll be the type to cheer. Don’t. It’s really tacky and could throw him off. Do you even know what barrel racing is about?”

“Some. There’s three barrels, and you have to make it through the sequence with the fastest time and without touching them.”

“It’s a dangerous sport. The horses are trained athletes. It might be all over in fifteen to seventeen seconds, but during that time, it’s a race against their life. They need to move without any issue, carry the weight of their rider perfectly, and dig deep to get around and then gallop off again. And the riders are just as focused. It’s more than just a sequence. Everything counts.”

“Wow, and he had a chance to go pro for this?”

She laughed loudly then. “All cowboys will tell you that, sweetie. Who are you rooting for?”

“Jung Jaehyun,” you mentioned and her amused expression dropped, scooting closer to you. Leaning back from her sudden invasion of your space, you laughed weakly. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh, he’s good. He’s back on the circuit? He took time off ever since the fire. I didn’t think he’d be back to this level.”

“What fire?”

“Blayne’s fire,” she replied, her eyes now peeled to the catalogue, checking out Jaehyun’s details. She gasped. “Joey Newman’s horse?! He didn’t come to mess around today.”

You smiled politely at the woman, slipping into your thoughts. You knew this was a big thing for Jaehyun, but was he that big of a deal in this world? The new information explained the nerves, but he had downplayed this to you all day long. The barrel racing was one of the last sports on the schedule for this rodeo, and for hours beforehand, Jaehyun had assured you it was like a training event. Yet, this woman now had you believing otherwise.

“Can I ask something?” you enquired, coming out of your reverie and the blonde woman nodded. “What happens if he makes the top five today?”

“He’ll be scouted. Perhaps he already is getting calls. He held the fastest time for five years straight in this region. Everyone wanted a piece of him before his father pulled him out.”

“Pulled him out?” you breathed, blinking rapidly. “Why did he-?”

“How about you ask your cowboy that you’re having a fling with all about it, once he’s done racing the clock, if you have further questions.”

“It’s not a fling,” you corrected and she smiled sadly at you.

“Darl, I was dating Billy Burke. You might not know that name but everyone around here did. He went pro, won the Nationals and become a million dollars richer.”

“A million dollars?!”

She shrugged. “I was pregnant with his baby at the time he got offered to go pro. We were supposed to get married. But, you know, it was his dream to go pro. When given the choice between love and the race, he chose the latter. So what if he has money? He has all that fame now too. All I have is his kid who hasn’t met his Daddy once. Let me warn you, cowboys might charm you with their country hospitality but they all have bigger goals than the farms they run back home. Once Jaehyun is given the chance, he’ll forget that Blayne even exists.”

“I doubt that,” you defended. “I’m sorry to hear of your circumstances, and even if Jaehyun and I end, I can confirm Blayne means more to him than-”

“You really don’t know what he did to Blayne, do you?” Pity for you emerged in her eyes. “What do you know aside from his body then?”

Getting up, you stormed out from the bleachers you had been sitting upon, feeling foolish for being so worked up by a stranger. Before you could leave, however, Avery leapt up towards you and clapped his hands together. “He’s next up. Where are you going?”

“Oh, I uh, need fresh air.”

“Worried about him falling off? Don’t be. He’s the best here today, you’re about to see it. No one else can go from being a farmhand to a decent barrel racer without practising than Jaehyun. Come on, you can get air after his run.”

Nodding numbly, you allowed Avery to push you along, taking a seat again. Avery greeted a few of the people around you, and you watched the horse and rider before you now, finishing their run with ease. You looked to the sidelines, wondering where Jaehyun was.

“I thought you said he was next.”

“He is. He’ll be making his way in any second now.”

The grating voice of the commentator muted as soon as you saw the spotted horse come racing into the arena, your eyes peeled on the pair heading towards their first barrel. Clasping your hands together, you watched on intensely, praying Jaehyun and Trickster would make it around safely.

The woman had been right. It was a sport that relied on precision and speed. You had always considered a minute to be such a short period of time, but as the seconds went by, you found yourself changed. Every second counted now.

Jaehyun and Trickster rounded the final barrel and galloped to the exit, Avery’s screams and sudden shaking your arm jostled you out of the blur that had been your vision towards the end.

Fifteen seconds was all it took to give you clarity on your feelings.

“He made it! That lucky son of a bitch!” Avery rejoiced, and you stood up jarringly, walking down the aisle to the exit. Avery was still full of energy at your side. “He’ll be cooling Trickster down, Y/N. Come this way to the holding pen.”

You followed along in a slight daze, your heart thumping with the thoughts within your head. You disregarded all the information, the warnings that stranger had given you. When you saw Jaehyun walking the heavily breathing animal around and patting his neck, you almost broke into a run to reach the side of the pen faster.

Noticing your arrival, Jaehyun grinned and walked the horse over. “Well, what did you think?”

“I think I’m in love you,” you announced sincerely.

“After seeing only one run?!” Avery joked, but Jaehyun’s expression grew serious, not shifting away from yours even as he continued to walk the horse around.

Distractedly, Jaehyun called out for the groom of Joey’s ranch and dismounted, walking over to you and ducking under the metal bar that separated you from him. “You mean what you say?”

You nodded, choking on the sudden emotions that had come with your confession.

“You can’t take it back after I give you this chance, Y/N. You mean it?”

“I love you,” you repeated, and that was all it took for Jaehyun to crash his lips upon yours.

There was no thought to the professionals around you, nor Avery who had stepped aside to give you albeit a tiny amount of privacy. You didn’t care at all who watched you lock lips with Jaehyun right now.

Because it felt right.

You hadn’t expected to arrive in Blayne and find yourself looking in different directions for your life. It had always been well-planned out. You would build your career and work hard during these years, so when you had achieved all you set out for you could relax into love and create a family.

The country didn’t work like that. The values were so different from what you had experienced in your fast-paced life. And now that you had been given the opportunity to slow down a little, to take in the world outside of an office and not be attached to a screen day in and out, you were finding your desires were changing too.

You liked the idea of waking up in someone’s arms and falling asleep whispering sweet nothings to one another. During those fifteen seconds, you imagined your life without Jaehyun in it, and it made you want to do absolutely everything in your power to remain at his side.

You meant the love confession. You had never spoken of love to another person before. It was liberating, fulfilling. As Jaehyun burned his lips into yours, you knew he felt the same.

It hadn’t been long between you. But this summer romance was shaping your world more than you believed it had for his parents all those years ago.

You couldn’t imagine going back to the city now.

_________________

Part 11

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Long Night in the Valley chapter 8

A young man walked in. His hair was dark, the style conservative. The only thing that stood out about him was his high-collared jacket.

Aizawa knows who this man is, for much the same reasons that Uraraka knew Skyrunner.

Fidelity had literally written the book on underground heroism. It hadn’t been published until his death.

The lights flickered. The murmuring of the shadows rose, then cut off abruptly, the shadows disappearing along with Nana. The projector screen changed. It now read:

Greetings 9’s Friends! (And teacher.)

“This was my last mission briefing before I died,” said the young man. “At least, that’s what I’d say if I was really Fidelity.”

“You’re saying you aren’t,” said Aizawa, keeping his voice level.

The screen behind him changed to read Vestiges: what you need to know.

“I am based on Fidelity. I’m also based on Railgun.”

“The hero who took down Destro?” asked Uraraka, clenching her fists and briefly floating in excitement.

Why was she not getting a better grade in history?

“Not exactly. He wasn’t actually captured until years later.”

“But you broke his charge, his army! And all by yourself!”

“Railgun did, yes. I’ve put together a little presentation for you guys. Hope you don’t mind. We all figured you wouldn’t want to go any further without an explanation of sorts.” He said this all with an enviably flat voice, despite his friendly words. His body language was controlled and to the point.

Darn Midoriya for managing to build a fantasy that was so close to what Aizawa had always imagined the man to be like.

(He was not a fan of Fidelity. Underground heroes did not have fans. It defeated the point.)

(He pointedly ignored his memories of the bootleg Eraserhead merchandise Midoriya and Yamada had snuck to Eri.)

“You’d be right,” said Aizawa.

“Cool,” said Six. “Before we begin, I want you to understand that much of what I’m going to tell you will be a lie.”

“What?” said Iida, confused. “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, there will be enough truth in it to get you through this safely, and enough falsehood to prevent the commission from taking advantage of Nine later, should they be watching what’s happening here with a quirk we can’t detect.”

“Nine?”

“Izuku,” clarified Six.

“Who you called Nine because…?”

“If we count in order of when we were supposedly born, he’s the ninth. Although, really, he’s the first. I’ll explain in a moment.” He pointed to the screen. “We call ourselves vestiges, and, like I said, we are all based on real people. We’re part of Nine’s quirk.” The screen switched to show Midoriya with eight shadowy figures behind him. “I want to stress that Nine wasn’t aware of us until the sports festival. Specifically…”

The screen now showed Midoriya’s fight with Hitoshi, right before he broke his fingers. Aizawa recognized the image as a still from one of the cameras. Except those eight shadows were there as well, right in front of Midoriya.

“You had something to do with him breaking his fingers and getting out of Shinsou’s quirk.”

“We don’t mix well with mental quirks, apparently. Nine minds all together at once are too many, even if eight of them are fictional. It’s an interesting side effect. Speaking of which.”

The new slide was a picture. An edited picture. Of a person giving a presentation.

“Is that a meme?” asked Todoroki.

“Yes,” said Six.

The slide read, You were never in All Might’s mind. Nine was just confused.

That meme was so old Aizawa could feel himself taking psychic damage just by looking at it.

“You’ve been passing through our, the vestiges’, mindscapes. Eight is simply based on All Might.”

That would be a relief, if not for the fact that that Six had admitted he was going to lie. Also, there was something off about the whole explanation.

Iida raised his hand. “Excuse me! You claim that you are part of Midoriya’s quirk, but you haven’t explained how!”

“I’m getting to that,” said Six. “Todoroki-san, you’re the one who is always saying how similar Nine and All Might’s quirks are. Do you have any theories?”

Todoroki’s eyes lit up, even though he kept his habitual deadpan expression. “Midoriya is All Might’s secret—”

“We wish, but sadly no. Pick a different one.”

Todoroki looked devastated. He collected himself quickly, however. “Midoriya’s strength,” he said, “he got it from All Might, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Eight is a bit of a complicated case, since he’s based on someone who is alive and Nine knows personally, but in the end, he’s the same as the rest of us.”

“He said something about receiving Skyrunner’s quirk, earlier,” said Uraraka.

“And Blackwhip…” said Iida.

“You’re getting it,” said Six. “Blackwhip originally belonged to Five, incidentally.”

“He has a copy quirk,” concluded Aizawa.

Six nodded. The screen changed. “Right now, Nine has four quirks, three of which he can use freely. Superpower, Blackwhip, and Float,” he read the quirk names off the screen.

“And he’s going to get more?” asked Aizawa.

“Eventually,” said Six. “We don’t want to overload his body—This whole process only kicked off when he met All Might.”

“And why you?” asked Aizawa. “Why All Might, Skyrunner and these… Five others?”

“I would like to tell you,” said Six. He raised a finger and waved it in a circle to indicate outside listeners.

“What are the drawbacks?” asked Aizawa.

“Hm?”

“The drawbacks. I get dry eyes when I use my quirk. Present Mic is deaf. Vlad is anemic. A quirk like this one has to have a drawback.”

“What, the broken bones aren’t enough for you? Or the fact he didn’t hit on the activation conditions until he was fourteen?”

Aizawa stared, unimpressed.

A tiny corner of Six’s mouth made itself visible over the collar of his coat. “Well. I think you can make some conclusions but, again…” He trailed off. “There are a few more things you should be aware of. First, Nine had no choice in who we are, although we all fulfil certain criteria.”

“Are you all relatives?” asked Todoroki.

“Man, you never do give up, do you?” said Six. “That’s a great quality in a hero.”

“Are you all heroes, then?” continued Todoroki.

The slide on the screen changed again.

Vestiges According to History:

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero

4. Vigilante

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

“Unfortunately,” said Six, “no.”

Toshinori caught sight of the feathers first. He had more experience as a hero, and, as he was no longer the primary user of One for All, the mental strain he was experiencing was much lower, comparatively. His awareness of his surroundings was better.

Stay calm. Don’t speak. Don’t run.

Hawks could receive sensory input from his feathers, though neither Toshinori nor Izuku knew how much. Better to be safe than sorry.

We need to get out of the city.

Out of the country, too, for that matter, as much as it would hurt Izuku—

They couldn’t leave all their friends behind to face Shigaraki.

A compromise could be reached. They knew a few places—An island, near—

But first, the city. The first priority was to evade pursuit.

A bus pulled into the stop ahead of them, and they got on. If they could get outside city limits, where there were fewer people, fewer witnesses, Izuku could float them away. Also, Hawks was less likely to trap his feathers on a bus.

We might be dealing with the Hawks problem earlier than thought.

Izuku slouched back on the bus seat, covering his eyes. Toshinori looked up at the ceiling. The Hawks problem. AKA, the others’ theory that Hawks had been raised as a child soldier, and Toshinori had missed the signs.

Izuku put his hand on Toshinori’s knee.

“I can’t believe it,” said one of the other passengers, a few rows ahead of them. “I really just can’t believe it. It’s like something from a horror story.”

“What?” asked someone else.

“Look!”

“Someone kidnapped All Might?”

The bus filled with chatter.

Toshinori still couldn’t believe people thought Izuku kidnapped him. The reality was closer to the opposite, honestly. He’d have to apologize to Izuku’s mother…

There was a tiny incensed gasp from Izuku, and Toshinori saw Izuku glaring up at him. Izuku made a series of gestures that could probably have been interpreted as ‘You can’t kidnap anyone, you’re All Might!’ even without the psychic link they were currently enjoying, then went into an enthusiastic tangent about how the commission was probably playing up the ‘crazy stalker fan’ angle.

Toshinori sighed, ruffled Izuku’s hair, and studiously avoided any and all thoughts about what he’d done to Aldera Middle School after Izuku had shown up to training with a black eye and bloody nose that one time.

“What?” squeaked Izuku, his eyes gone very wide.

Drat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw three passengers near the front of the bus stand up and felt his heart drop. One of them had an obvious eagle mutation, the second had a bulging, almost spherical, neck, and the third had broad, flat-ended fingers.

Decades of hero experience told Toshinori exactly what was going to happen next. Even before the guns came out.

“Well,” said the eagle-headed man, “with all the heroes looking for the ‘Symbol of Peace,’ I guess this is our lucky day!”

“Nobody move!” demanded the man with the round neck. “This is a hijacking!”

Izuku let out an incredulous grunt next to him, but Toshinori could literally feel his mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, analyzing the quirks of the hijackers and possible motives.

Really. There was no way they weren’t going to help.

“By the way, not all of Nine is awake, so, out in the real world his body is operating according to consensus.”

“Consensus of…” said Aizawa, not wanting to finish the thought as he stared at the two entries labeled ‘terrorist.’

“All nine of us together, yes.”

“That’s a pretty big drawback,” said Aizawa, his voice rasping against his throat.

“Eh. It has its benefits. Besides, Three and Two lived over a hundred years ago. We didn’t even have the hero system back then. Things change.”

“Excuse me!” said Iida, raising his hand. “Why don’t the last four—the first four? —have names?”

“They asked me not to share them with you quite yet,” said Six. “Don’t call Three a terrorist though. That’s a bit of a sore spot with her.” He looked off to the side.

“And the quirks?” said Aizawa, hanging on to the very last bit of his will to live by the tips of his fingers. “The ones I’m presumably going to have to teach Midoriya how to use?”

“Right.”

Our Splendiferous Quirks

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero. Quirk: Superpower.

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero. Quirk: Float.

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero. Quirk: Internet Perception.

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero. Quirk: Blackwhip.

4. Vigilante. Quirk: Danger Sense.

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

Aizawa was not surprised to see the last four entries, once again, had little information attached.

“You know,” said Uraraka, “if you ignore the terrorists, this actually makes sense.”

“If you ignore the terrorists?” asked Iida, incredulous.

“I mean, think about who we’ve seen so far.”

“It is like Midoriya to have a split personality based on All Might,” agreed Todoroki. Because split personalities were going to be his go-to theory, now that figments of Midoriya’s quirk’s imagination had shot down his ‘Dadmight’ conspiracy.

“If you want to think of us as split personalities, sure,” said Six. “We really don’t interact that much with the outside, though.”

“And Skyrunner is basically supermom,” said Uraraka. “Like, if she was All Might’s mentor, it makes sense that that’s what he’d envision her as.”

“Ah,” said Iida, “so she reminds you of Midoriya-san as well?”

Aizawa noticed Six shift uncomfortably and look away but decided he honestly did not want to know.

“Oh, and you,” said Uraraka, spreading her hands to indicate Six, “are kind of like Aizawa-sensei!

“Except with more memes,” said Todoroki.

“Yeah, except with more memes,” agreed Uraraka.

Six faked a cough into his fist. “Anyway, I think that’s everything… No, wait. Hawks.”

“Hawks,” repeated Aizawa.

“Yeah. We’re pretty sure he was raised and conditioned to be a slave for the commission from a very young age.” Another pause. Six turned to face Todoroki. “Also, Dabi is probably your dead older brother, Todoroki Touya.”

“Oh,” said Todoroki.

“What,” said Aizawa.

“We’d just like someone in a position to do things with this information to have it. Even if we were sure Nine would retain all this, he, ah. The commission is doing a very good job of trashing his reputation.”

“Is this revenge?” whispered Todoroki. “Did I push Midoriya too far?”

“Kid, you could beat Nine up on a weekly basis for ten years, and he’d still barely think of revenge. Come on, I need to take you guys to Five.”

Barely, he said. Meaning, he did think about revenge. They had to get out of here fast; Bakugo’s life was in danger.

There were lives in danger. A simple robbery wouldn’t require this kind of setup. These three needed hostages for some reason.

Or… Izuku traced the direction the three villains kept looking to the college student in the corner. The young woman’s clothing was high quality, and she looked vaguely familiar.

He couldn’t help but be exasperated. Shigaraki Tomura was running around out there somewhere, and these guys were doing… whatever this was. Causing problems. He and Toshinori would have to try and evade Hawks after this.

But exasperation wasn’t going to keep these people safe.

Eagle-head looked like the leader at first glance, but on closer inspection, he was taking cues from the man with the squared-off fingers. The man with the round neck seemed to have a body expansion quirk of some type, possibly similar to Kendo’s, considering how his joints pulsed and how his clothing was designed with extra folds.

… He’d shown Toshinori a catalogue with similar clothing, once. But Toshinori had said that the ill-fitting look added to his disguise.

In the tight confines of the bus, that would be dangerous. The best thing to do to him would be to throw him out when the bus came to a stop.

The quirk of the man with the square finger was a problem. It was probably an emitter type, rather than a transformation type. Something to do with his hands, perhaps?

Honestly, the best thing to do for all of them, at least with regards to the people on the bus, would be to toss them off and then get the driver to gun it. But then, what about people on the street? These guys didn’t have any scruple against taking hostages, obviously.

“Hey, you, hand over the briefcase,” said the man with the round neck.

Izuku glanced at Toshinori, who nodded. Coils of Blackwhip ran up and down his arms under the sleeves of his suit, much more controlled and complex than Izuku had managed to date.

Thanks for the help, Five.

He slammed the briefcase into the eagle-headed man’s beak. Toshinori hadn’t skimped on anything when stocking the hideout, and the metal made immensely satisfying contact with bone. Blackwhip shot out from near his elbow—like Sero—and wrapped around the hands of the gunmen, forcing their aim down.

The man with square fingers reacted first, raising his hand. Each fingertip emitted a flat, square pane that traveled in a straight line and got progressive larger. Izuku pulled, slamming the man into the back of his own shield, because really, that was too slow, and how similar was this quirk to Crust’s? Could the villain change the trajectory of his panels, or no?

Not the time.

The shield cracked as Izuku hit it from the other side, and Toshinori was throwing open the back door. The man with the expanding quirk—and it was an expanding quirk—seemed to finally realize what was happening, and lashed out, but Izuku was faster than he was. The spherical throat was evidently a weak point.

“Can you stop?” Izuku asked the bus driver, who, tense as he was, slammed down on the brakes, making Izuku stumble. He hauled the villains off the bus, Toshinori hopping off the back with the eagle-headed man a moment later.

Well, that had happened.

Izuku caught a flash of very distinctive red out of the corner of his eye.

Six stopped. “That isn’t good,” he said, looking slightly up. There was nothing there that Aizawa could see, except for a collection of pipes. They were travelling through a series of underground concrete passages in an effort to find ‘Five.’

“What is it?” asked Uraraka.

Six’s form abruptly flickered and vanished. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“Sensei.”

Aizawa turned to see Midoriya standing behind them, wearing a truly godawful pinstriped suit. He held his right wrist in his left hand, an odd bracer wrapped around it.

“Is that the Full Gauntlet?” asked Uraraka. “Why-?”

Midoriya flashed a quick smile in her direction. “I’m sorry, sensei, this is really last minute, but I need you to tell me how to use your quirk.”

We absolutely can’t strike first.

They wanted to. They knew this would turn into a battle. The first strike was an advantage they couldn’t discount.

Win the battle and lose the war.

He could see the cell phones already out, held bystanders not quite broken from the habits gained in All Might’s era. Even with the Hero Commission already slandering him, this would affect the narrative. If he ever hoped to be welcomed back to hero society, or even the public’s good graces, in any way shape or form, he could not be seen starting a fight with a hero. Much less the current number two hero.

“I don’t suppose you’ll make my job easier and release All Might from your mind-control quirk,” said Hawks, tone conversational despite the fact he was standing at least two stories above them in the air.

“I don’t have a mind-control quirk,” said Izuku, reaching up to the knot of his tie.

“And I’m not being mind-controlled,” said Toshinori, loosening his mask.

Hawks actually paused. “Oh my gosh,” he said, raising one hand to his mouth like a scandalized housewife, “I didn’t realize that was you! What happened to your hair?”

“I… cut it off.”

“That’s, uh.” Hawks quickly regained control of his expression. “Terrible that this villain made you do that.”

Hawks’ heart wasn’t entirely in this apparently.

Just as apparently, that had no bearing on what Hawks was actually going to do.

“You’ve seen me use my quirk,” said Aizawa.

“I know, and that’ll be helpful, too, but how do you use it? What’s the feeling you get when you use it? How do you activate it? What’s the internal mechanism? This is important.”

“Why?” asked Iida. “What’s going on Midoriya?”

“It’s—” Midoriya’s form flickered. He took a deep breath. He was now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I’m in a fight right now, and it would be useful,” he reported, calmly.

“Please tell me it isn’t with my mind-controlled unconscious body,” begged Aizawa, “or the League of Villains.”

“It isn’t.”

Thank goodness.

“I’m fighting Hawks.”

Why.

No, ask questions later. The Problem Child needed help now. To fight the number two hero.

He didn’t know how knowledge about his quirk could be useful in a fight against Hawks, but the claim was far, far too stupid to be a lie.

“When I turn on my quirk, I—”

Blackwhip unfurled from his arms like a dark version of Shouji’s quirk, tearing his sleeves to shreds and dislodging the feathers that had been imbedded there. The ends wrapped around feather after feather, splitting into dozens and dozens of pseudo-arms. Izuku was amazed.

Someday, he would be able to do this on his own.

For now—

For now, he was fighting Hawks, who had trained since childhood to fight on behalf of the commission.

For now, he was a hero student, with only a few months of practical experience.

For now, he was a fugitive, on the run and desperate.

For now, he was host and member of One for All, and collectively they had been heroes for over a hundred years.

And Toshinori had his back.

They wrapped the silk tie around his knuckles. Any protection for the bones in his hands was valuable. In the other, they adjusted the briefcase. They had only rarely used weapons in the last hundred or so years. Usually, their quirks made weapons overkill.

But before that—Before that, things were different. For a while, One and Two had used swords, of all things.

This battle was much more even than it looked.

Their victory condition: Escape with Toshinori.

Their failure conditions: Civilian injury, serious injury to Izuku or Toshinori, or capture of either Izuku or Toshinori.

To avoid the first point of failure, it was best for them to get away from the vulnerable civilians. They didn’t want to give away float so soon in the game, so…

They grabbed the edge of a building with Blackwhip and launched Izuku upwards, flinging feathers away from him. Toshinori would follow and provide the group with a second perspective.

Hawks did not expect to be joined in the air. An incredulous smile graced his lips. Izuku smiled back and catapulted himself directly into Hawks.

“You know,” he said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile for real!”

“What?” asked Hawks, startled. He wasn’t one to have meaningful conversations with people he was supposed to bring in, but a statement like that had to be responded to.

Even if most of his attention was on the quirk that Midoriya controlled with much more proficiency than indicated by his school records. The kid was good, had good instincts when it came to battle, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get past Hawks’s guard, or to really close the distance between them.

“Your smile!” said Midoriya. “When I was younger, I didn’t realize it, but once I knew the truth behind All Might’s smile, I understood!”

“Did you, now?” asked Hawks.

“Underneath,” said Midoriya, “your face is a lot like Todoroki’s! It’s—”

Conversation during a battle was usually a distraction, to the person employing it as a tactic as well as the target. Somehow, though, Midoriya was subverting that rule.

“It’s actually really sad!” exclaimed Midoriya, breathless, but apparently genuine, not mocking. “Who hurt you?”

“Heh,” said Hawks. This kid knew. How? “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

“Gotta hand it to the commission, they really did a number on you,” said Midoriya, briefly touching down on a rooftop. “Why do you keep doing their dirty work for them?”

He was using that second quirk, but not his strength. Was it a matter of ‘won’t’ or ‘can’t?’ Either way, it was something to keep an eye on.

“Why don’t you—” Hawks briefly managed to pin Midoriya by the edge of his jacket, but the boy tore free easily. “—fly free?”

“You’re one to talk,” said Hawks. “What did you trade to All for One for those quirks?” He didn’t actually believe Midoriya was in league with All for One. Even tangentially, through proxies, they’d been at odds too many times, not to mention the videos he’d been shown by the commission of Midoriya and All Might interacting. The connection there couldn’t be faked.

He’d know. He’d tried so many times.

(Was trying now, with the League of Villains.)

(Midoriya wasn’t one of them.)

But he had a job to do.

Besides. Even he had to admit the commission had a point. The quirks had to come from somewhere.

(Just because Midoriya didn’t willingly associate with All for One didn’t mean he hadn’t been forced. Didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten out.)

(All Might was protecting him. How did they know each other?)

“Wouldn’t you take any hand offered to you if the person behind it offered to make you what you always wanted to be?”

Midoriya tilted his head to one side. “Nope!” he responded, cheerfully.

On the street below, Toshinori coughed, blood splattering his sleeve. What had Izuku been doing when he was younger, to get involved with so many dangerous and disturbing people?

It wasn’t my fault!

Kid really is a trouble magnet.

Oh, heck, I think I recognized that one—

Really, with that sharp mind, and Izuku’s propensity for both curiosity, helpfulness, and, well, finding trouble, it was a miracle he’d stayed alive for so long.

Wouldn’t call it a miracle, sonny—

HAHA I can’t believe he thought that was a dream.

In his defense, a dream makes more sense than—

Guys. Focus, please?

Yes. This was not the time to discuss… that. Now… Well. Toshinori had a role he could play in this battle, even as he was, and—

Hawks and Izuku’s path over the rooftops mapped itself out in his mind.

Oh, no.

Izuku wasn’t evading Hawks.

He was being herded by him.

They tucked and rolled across the pavement, Blackwhip cocooning them and breaking their fall. This was significantly more than what Five, what Daigoro, could use back when he was alive. It took everyone’s efforts to keep everything going.

Wait for it, they reminded themselves, bouncing back to Izuku’s feet.

Izuku looked up. This… was not a good position. Hawks had forced them into the entertainment district. They couldn’t trust that the fancy facades and art instalations of the buildings would hold up to Blackwhip. Not to mention, in places like this… He glanced around.

Fourth Kind.

Kesagiriman.

Slugger.

Death Arms.

There would be more, soon. This was… less than good. Maybe they should just grab Toshinori’s body and launch themselves with Blackwhip and Float, as far as they could. They’d lose a lot of their advantage on Hawks, but at least then they wouldn’t be fighting five different heroes.

Izuku gritted his teeth in something like a smile. Five different heroes. Well. Nine on five wasn’t bad odds.

Suzuku pulled himself along the ground, trembling. He had been falling for—for ages by the time that witch woman had disappeared. Why she had disappeared, he couldn’t guess, but…

Falling.

So much falling.

And hitting the ground again, and again, and again.

You invaded our minds, said the woman, don’t complain when we counter with something psychological as well.

Something like a laugh bubbled up from his throat.

You can leave whenever you want, can’t you?

He’d show her. He’d show her and find all her secrets. Just see if he didn’t.

Fourth Kind, Kesagiriman, Slugger, and Death Arms all had very physical, straightforward quirks. Out of all of them, though, Death Arms was probably the most problematic, followed by Slugger and his long-range attacks.

None of them held a candle to Hawks, of course. Which was the reason why Death Arms in particular was so problematic.

In order to deal with Hawks’s feathers, they needed Blackwhip. But using Blackwhip and One for All’s signature superstrength at the same time wasn’t something Izuku’s body was used to. They were limiting it to small bursts. Death Arms’ own physical enhancement quirk, while miniscule compared to One for All’s current stature, was nothing to sneer at.

If Death Arms—or any of the other heroes—landed a solid blow, that could be it for Izuku.

They refused to be locked away again.

That’s when it happened.

A scene played across Izuku’s inner eye:

A frosty morning. A little boy with dark hair. A farewell. Tears.

He flubbed the landing and a sharp pain lanced through his ankle. Blackwhip wrapped it, giving it much needed support.

He started to rise, only to drop to avoid one of Slugger’s patented Home Run Pitches (tm).

The ball spun, ricocheting off the stainless steel of an art installation before drilling right through a wooden beam on a bit of scaffolding holding up part of a building that was being refurbished. Izuku let out a breath of relief (there were still people around who hadn’t learned how to run away from a dangerous fight) before they returned to the dance with Hawks’s impressively huge number of feathers.

Blackwhip could keep up with them, barely, but Izuku was tiring. He couldn’t take much more of this.

He needed an opening to get to Toshi—

Another scene:

She couldn’t be pregnant. Not now. Not right after giving away another. The next time Sorahiko suggested drowning her troubles in sake, she was going to shove it straight up his blowholes, no matter that he was probably just as drunk as she was.

This slip almost resulted in Izuku getting his face punched in by Death Arms. Considering what he’d just learned, he’d almost welcome that fate, if it made him forget. Plus, it might have been funny for the ultimate battle of ultimate destiny, the show down between One for All and All for One, to take place between not one, but two potato-headed individuals—

There was a sharp crack from above as the damage Death Arms had done to the scaffolding made itself known.

Izuku didn’t have to think before moving.

“Alright,” said Midoriya. “I think I’ve got it. Thank you, sensei.” He looked young, now. Barely primary school age.

“I’d feel a lot better,” said Aizawa, “if I knew what you needed this information for.”

“Oh! That’s simple. You see, it’s my theory that the overlap in mechanisms between my quirk and Saito-san’s might allow for interesting emergent behaviors. Specifically, her quirk bridges a gap I’d normally have no way of crossing, although there’s certainly drawbacks. It’s like what we tried earlier, when I asked you to use your quirk. Although, I am hoping for different results than what I was looking for back then. I think, with what you’ve given me, and this processing time… Yes, this should work.” He clenched a fist. “These remnants—I can use them!”

Remnants. Vestiges.

Aizawa frowned. Something… something wasn’t right, here. The explanation Six had given them…

“Just keep going this way, for now. Six will try to get back to you as soon as possible. I have to go now! I love you guys!”

He then faded out. While waving.

“Wow,” said Uraraka. “Izuku-kun sure was a cute kid.”

Aizawa couldn’t argue with that.

“Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki. “You’re blushing.”

He wouldn’t lower himself to argue with that. “This conversation is illogical. Let’s go.”

“Sensei is weak to little kids,” observed Todoroki.

And if they ever discovered they could remove the ‘little’ in that sentence and have it still be accurate, he’d never live it down.

Hawks saw the eyes first, shining through the dust like two perfect green coins. Then every one of his feathers went dead, and he started to fall.

Sensation returned just in time for him to avoid hitting the ground at speed and, just as quickly, vanished again.

A breeze blew cleared the dust away.

Midoriya Izuku stood under the collapsed scaffolding, holding it up with black tendrils and sparking green arms. If this scene had been all that there was, an observer might be forgiven for wondering why he was holding up the scaffolding like that.

But Hawks knew. If Midoriya hadn’t caught the scaffolding, even he wouldn’t have been able to get those civilians out from underneath it in time. He glanced to the side, where the almost victims were standing up. Normally, he’d just trust his feathers, but…

“Is that Eraserhead’s quirk?”

“Don’t worry, I asked Eraserhead-sensei for permission, first.”

“What kind of monster—” started Death Arms.

“Don’t you dare, Mister ‘my quirk isn’t suitable.’” Midoriya shifted the scaffolding to one side and shrugged himself out from underneath it. “As heroes, aren’t you supposed to consider the civilians around you?” He laughed. “I guess we’re still a little bitter about that.”

Izuku was putting on a good show, but he was reaching the end of his endurance. Plus, he could already hear the sirens of police cars and the exclamations that followed large groups of heroes on the move.

Good thing, then, that Toshinori was about to round the corner in three… two… one… There!

To an outsider, Blackwhip wrapping around Toshinori probably looked violent. In reality, everyone operating the quirk was intimately aware of everything wrong with Toshinori’s body and did not want to add to his problems. They could have probably grabbed an egg like this.

Grabbing the newly-exposed concrete and rebar of the building behind Izuku, they launched themselves up. At the top of their arc, they activated Float. Blackwhip reeled Toshinori in, and they held onto each other as Izuku prepared to use air pressure to launch themselves forward.

He hadn’t blinked yet.

His eyes really hurt.

(And so did everything else.)

He aimed and kicked against the air, sending them soaring away.

They had escaped.

Tomura ducked behind the wall at the top of the building, glad that his party had put so many points into stealth, because he was not touching what had just happened with a ten-foot pole. He’d rather be shot again. He’d rather fight Machia for a week straight with no rest breaks. He’d rather listen to Sensei try to give him the birds and the bees talk.

What was that? Huh? What kind of a broken character build allowed for that kind of combat ability? The mods had to be asleep. If he were in charge, he’d nerf it, pronto.

That was a lie. He’d take it for himself.

Still.

“Uh, Shigaraki? Boss man? You okay there?” asked Spinner.

“No,” decided Shigaraki.

Suddenly, making all of them jump, Toga squealed. “Did you see him? Did you see Izuku-kun? He was so cute with his nose bleeding like that!”

“Hey,” said Dabi, “are we going after the green kid or what?”

“No,” decided Shigaraki, for the second time in as many minutes. And then, “Gimme the phone. We need to call the doctor to get us out of here.”

They did, but that was pretty much secondary to his primary objective, which was to cuss out the doctor concerning the cursed knowledge that was currently trying to escape his skull with a pickaxe.

“Um,” said Inko. “Aren’t you going to get that?” She pointed at the phone that had been buzzing on the table for the past several minutes.

“No,” said Garaki, pretending to sip at his tea. “You were saying?”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #fanfic #long night in the valley

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lokiondisneyplus · 4 years ago

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For his entire tenure as an Avenger, Anthony Mackie had never been the first name on the call sheet.

In a galaxy of stars populated by Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson, the actor was aware of his place in the on-set pecking order, but would never miss an opportunity to make his presence felt.

“Number six on the call sheet has arrived!” Mackie would routinely shout on films like “Captain America: Civil War” and the box office-busting “Infinity Saga” sequels, according to Marvel chief creative officer Kevin Feige.

It exemplifies the sort of winning tone that the 42-year-old actor has brought to his superhero character the Falcon, aka Sam Wilson, for six movies from the top-earning studio — wry and collegial humor, with the potential to turn explosive at any moment. Both Mackie and his character are set to burn brighter than ever when the Disney Plus series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier” lands on March 18.

On that call sheet, “Anthony is No. 1,” Feige is happy to report, “but it still says ‘No. 6.’ He kept it because he didn’t want it to go to his head.” The series is essentially a two-hander with his friend and longtime co-star Sebastian Stan, the titular soldier. All six episodes were produced and directed by Emmy winner Kari Skogland (“The Handmaid’s Tale,” “The Loudest Voice”). The series, for which combined Super Bowl TV spot and trailer viewership earned a record-breaking 125 million views this year, is reported to have cost $150 million in total.

For Mackie, though, the show comes at a critical time for both his career and for representation in the MCU. Sam Wilson is graduating from handy wingman (Falcon literally gets his job done with the use of mechanical wings), having been handed the Captain America shield by Evans in the last “Avengers” film. While it’s unclear if he will formally don the superhero’s star-spangled uniform moving forward (as the character did in a 2015 comic series), global fandoms and the overall industry are still reeling from the loss of Chadwick Boseman, who portrayed Marvel’s Black Panther to culture-defining effect. With this new story, Mackie will become the most visible African American hero in the franchise. And when asked whether he’ll be taking the mantle of one of its most iconic characters, he doesn’t exactly say no.

“I was really surprised and affected by the idea of possibly getting the shield and becoming Captain America. I’ve been in this business a long time, and I did it the way they said you’re supposed to do it. I didn’t go to L.A. and say, ‘Make me famous.’ I went to theater school, did Off Broadway, did indie movies and worked my way through the ranks. It took a long time for this shit to manifest itself the way it has, and I’m extremely happy about that,” Mackie says.

Feige says that, especially with the advent of Disney Plus and the freedom afforded long-form storytelling, the moment was right to give the Falcon his due.

“Suddenly, what had been a classic passing of the torch from one hero to another at the end of ‘Endgame’ became an opening up of our potential to tell an entire story about that. What does it really mean for somebody to step into those shoes, and not just somebody but a Black man in the present day?” says Feige.

Like many comic book heroes, Mackie has an origin story marked by tragedy at a young age — specifically around the loss of a parental figure. The New Orleans native is the youngest of six children from a tight-knit middle-class family, whose trajectory was spun into chaos when his mother was stricken with a terminal illness.

“It was unexpected and very untimely. I was 15 when she was diagnosed with cancer, and a few months later, she was gone. She passed the day before my ninth-grade graduation,” Mackie recalls. “If my mom wouldn’t have passed away when I was so young, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

Mackie had already gravitated toward the performing arts before the loss of his mother, having enrolled at the pre-professional school New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. Like many young people grappling with trauma, Mackie says he began to act out. A core group of teachers helped get him out of trouble. Ray Vrazel, still an instructor at the school, personally drove the student to a Houston-based audition for the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, where he was accepted for his senior year of high school.

“Everything I did, I did for my mama. The idea of leaving home at 17 to go away to school would have never been an option if she was still around. She was my best friend. Losing her gave me a kind of strength, and a desire to succeed,” Mackie says.

Succeed he did. Spending that formative year as a minor on a college campus helped Mackie find his “tribe,” a misfit crew of artists and performers, which propelled him to acceptance at New York’s prestigious Juilliard School in 1997. There he was part of the breakthrough class of students of color to be chosen for the notoriously selective drama program, which Mackie says was liberating given the institution’s track record.

“Our year was a huge transition. There were hardly any Asian people in the drama program, maybe one or two Black people and hardly any Black women. In our class, we had three black women, two black men, one Native American, one Asian female, out of 20 people. Ever since then, the classes have been wildly diverse,” says Mackie, whose fellow students included stage and film star Tracie Thoms and actor Lee Pace.

Following his training, Mackie launched a staggeringly versatile career. He has played Tupac Shakur and Martin Luther King Jr. to similar acclaim, a juicehead bodybuilder in “Pain & Gain” and a homeless gay teen in the Sundance player “Brother to Brother.” He has exhibited remarkable staying power in an industry that often pigeonholes actors and has a pockmarked soul when it comes to inclusion.

“I was drawn to Anthony because of his electrifying ability to combine intensity with sensitivity, courage with compassion, and all of it comes across as inevitable, as if it could be no other way,” says Kathryn Bigelow, who directed him in the 2009 best picture Oscar winner “The Hurt Locker.”

Samuel L. Jackson, whom Mackie calls a mentor and has played alongside in several films, says he has “an innate quality that first and foremost makes everyone want to cast him.” On a recent idle Netflix search, Jackson came across Mackie’s latest sci-fi film, “Outside the Wire,” and it triggered a memory of sitting in the audience for his performance in the 2010 Broadway production of Martin McDonagh’s play “A Behanding in Spokane.”

“Watching him onstage, I thought, he’s a very adroit actor capable of putting on many hats. He’s fearless and will try to be anybody. Then, on my TV, he’s playing a nanobyte soldier or some shit,” Jackson says.

Though always humble about getting the next job, pre-Marvel Mackie was rarely offered pole position.

“There were certain pegs. My first was ‘8 Mile.’ It was a monumental step at the beginning of my career,” Mackie says of the 2002 Curtis Hanson film that elevated rapper Eminem to multi-hyphenate stardom.

“After that it was ‘Half Nelson.’ It blew up Ryan Gosling, so I was there to ride the wave. Then ‘The Hurt Locker,’ and it blew up Jeremy Renner. It was the joke for a long time — if you’re a white dude and you want to get nominated for an Oscar, play opposite me. I bring the business for white dudes,” says Mackie.

He remembers the sensation “Hurt Locker” caused during its awards season. It was a moment he thought would change everything as he stood on the stage of the Dolby Theatre with the cast and filmmakers, having just sipped from George Clooney’s flask while Halle Berry radiated a few rows away.

“I thought I would be able to move forward in my career and not have to jostle and position myself for work. To get into rooms with certain people. I thought my work would speak for itself. I didn’t feel a huge shift,” he says, “but I 100% think that ‘The Hurt Locker’ is the reason I got ‘Captain America.’”

He’s referring to “Captain America: The Winter Soldier,” the 2014 Marvel film that was the first to be directed by Joe and Anthony Russo (the current title holders for the highest-grossing film of all time with “Avenges: Endgame”). Mackie says that blockbuster not only gave him his largest platform to date but changed expectations of superhero movies forever.

“It was the first of the espionage, Jason Bourne-esque action movies at Marvel. After that, the movies shifted and had different themes and were more in touch with the world we live in, more grounded,” he says.

Bolstered by the words of another mentor, Morgan Freeman, Mackie feels no bitterness about his path.

“We did ‘Million Dollar Baby’ together, and when we were shooting this movie, I got offered a play. When you do Off Broadway, it’s $425 a week. In New York, that’s really $75 per week. I got a movie offer at the same time, and it was buckets of money. Three Home Depot buckets of money were going to be dropped off at my door,” Mackie says. “The script was awful; the whole thing was slimy. I went to Morgan’s trailer and asked him what he would do. He took a second and said, ‘Do the play. When Hollywood wants you, they’ll come get you. And when they come get you, they’ll pay for it.’ That blew my mind, and I left him that day with such a massive amount of confidence. He’s been a huge influence on me.”

He used the currency of that first Russo Brothers film and five subsequent ones to do what many creators and performers in Hollywood have done in recent years to help balance the scales of profit and representation in content: make things on his own.

Last year, Mackie produced and starred in “The Banker” — what would be Apple Studios’ first foray into original streaming film distribution and the awards landscape — through his banner Make It With Gravy. The film follows the true story of America’s first Black bankers and the white frontman they deployed to acquire the institution, all while supporting Black-owned businesses and communities in the process. A late-breaking scandal over sexual misconduct accusations involving the real-life family members of the film’s subjects delayed the release, overshooting awards-season deadlines and entangling the fledgling producer.

“It was a good lesson, and gave me a new perspective on the world around us. It’s very important to me that the women by my side are treated equally. It was a valuable lesson learned. I was very humbled by my sisters, for once not being mean to me,” he says.

Mackie is in development on the film “Signal Hill,” about the early days of lawyer Johnnie Cochran and the theater he brought to courtrooms long before the O.J. Simpson trial, and is hoping to secure the life story of civil rights pioneer Claudette Colvin as a vehicle for his directorial debut. Raising four sons of his own now, Mackie wants his off-screen work to make them well-rounded men.

“Look at Robin Williams,” he says. “He used to be crass and funny, and then he had kids, and he started doing all these family-friendly movies. Same thing with Eddie Murphy. I’m trying to curate my children’s experience with the things that I’ll be producing, rather than starring in. That’s what is most important. They know my job is my job; they know who I am. I’ve given up the idea of them ever thinking that I’m cool,” he says.

Jokes about the call sheet are among many of Mackie’s filming quirks. Jackson says that sets are often littered with hidden cigar stubs, to be fired up between takes or after long days. Bigelow says his rapport with crew has led to nights where the “clock was ticking but it was impossible to regain composure enough to shoot.” But according to Evans, no Mackie-ism is more famous than the phrase he bellows whenever his directors cut a scene: “Cut the check!”

Evans says this “will be forever associated with Mackie. I find myself saying it on sets all the time. I love it. But I’ll never be able to say it as well as him.”

As the man handing Mackie his armor, Evan says the Falcon’s “role within the Marvel universe has answered the call to action time and time again. He’s proven his courage, loyalty and reliability over multiple films. Sam has given so much, and he’s also lost a lot too. He believes in something bigger than himself, and that type of humility is necessary to carry the shield.”

The question of Sam Wilson’s humanity will be explored at length in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier,” what Mackie calls a deeper showcase for both himself and Stan and their characters. It was a prospect that at first confused and frightened him.

“I didn’t think we could do on the television what we’d been doing on the big screen. I didn’t want to be the face of the first Marvel franchise to fail. Like, ‘See? We cast the Black dude, and now this shit is awful.’ That was a huge fear of mine, and also a huge responsibility with playing a Marvel character,” Mackie says.

He was quickly assuaged by the level of depth in the scripts from head writer Malcolm Spellman (“Empire,” “Truth Be Told”), especially when it came to the nuances of Wilson — a Black American man with no powers beyond his badass wings.

“Sam Wilson as played by Mackie is different than a Thor or a Black Panther, because he’s not from another planet or a king from another country,” Feige says. “He’s an African American man. He’s got experience in the military and doing grief counseling with soldiers who have PTSD. But where did he grow up? Who is his family? Mackie was excited to dig into it as this man, this Black man in particular, in the Marvel version of the world outside our window.”

Mackie celebrates Sam’s relatability in a universe full of mythological gods and lab-made enforcers. “I’m basically the eyes and ears of the audience, if you were put in that position where you could go out and fight alongside superheroes. It adds a really nice quality to him, that he’s a regular guy who can go out there and do special things,” Mackie says.

While bound by standard Marvel-grade secrecy, the actor confirms there have been no discussions of a second season for “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.” As the majority of domestic movie theaters remain closed due to the coronavirus pandemic, he is equally unaware of the theatrical prospects for his Falcon character — or the Captain he may become by the end of this Disney Plus run. For now, he’s content to take up the mantle left by Boseman, a quietly understood pact of responsibility to Marvel-loving kids the world over.

“For Chad and I, [representation] was never a conversation that needed to be had because of our backgrounds. There was a hinted-at understanding between the two of us, because we’re both from humble beginnings in the South; we have very similar backgrounds. We knew what the game was. We knew going into it,” he says.

Outside comic book movies, Mackie is not done searching as a performer. There is a particular genre he would very much like to cut him a check.

“My team gets mad at me for saying this, but I would love to do a cheesy old-school ‘When Harry Met Sally’-type of project,” he says. “One of those movies where I’m working outside and have to take my shirt off because it’s too hot. I want a romantic comedy. I want to do every movie written for Matthew McConaughey that he passed on.”

#Anthony Mackie #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Disney+#interview

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 4 years ago

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AN: Ok so I’ve been gone for a while but I’ve hit a milestone in my followers and I decided to write one for my original anime hubby. He’s an oldie but a classic. Everyone loves Kakashi-sensei. Anyway It’s a long one so I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Implied smut but fairly SFW.

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Everyone has read the Fanfiction, and everyone has read the stories. Someone mysteriously dies and gets reborn in a new world. Only to train and become a badass before eventually getting their favorite character to fall in love with them. All while changing the story to prevent people, they’ve never met from dying. It was a wish fulfilment story and it works as entertainment. But real life is so much more difficult than anyone realizes.

Because in the end the person I was before never really changed even when I was reborn into a world of ninjas.

My first memory that I can clearly remember is eating ice cream outside my parent’s farm. I was born in a mundane village a few miles from Konoha. Ice cream was a rare summer treat that my parents occasionally indulged me and my five siblings in. It was on this rice farm where I spent the first five years of my childhood. I went to a civilian school that taught me to write and read before spending the rest of my days helping my family. I remembered nothing from my previous life. Just flashbacks and deja vus that left reminiscent feelings lurking in the back of my mind. Kanji was unexpectedly hard for me versus my sibling who picked it up with ease. Yet, when I finally grasped the language, I kept journals of writings not knowing that it was a passion resembling my former self. I also never understood my connection with cats. I was known as the resident cat girl that went around picking up stray cats to bring back to our farm. And the cats formed a bond, only tolerating me and hissing at everyone else who dared to approach them.

The peaceful years unfortunately didn’t last. Over the years war and bandits took a toll on our quiet town and maintaining a farm was no longer profitable. So, my parents made the decision to sell off their land and move to Konoha. Though, my parents were apprehensive, me and my sibling were ecstatic at living in a shinobi village. Everyone knew of shinobis, the legends surrounding them. Tales of bravery, heartache, and loyalty, it fascinated the residents of the village.

We moved into Konoha early August just before winter arrived and were citizens after 3 months. The process was short due to our lack of shinobi lineage and arriving from a civilian farm town. It was in Konoha that I really got my first exposure to what shinobis actually were. Seeing them jump off the roofs while my father tended his produce stall was mesmerizing. Playing ninja with the rest of the kids and constantly being surrounded by the hype eventually got to the point where I wanted to become a ninja myself. Along with two of my younger siblings, I begged my parents to attend the academy. They eventually relented when they realized the village offered funding for civilian children to attend. I was the only one out of my siblings to pass the entrance exam. I was the only one physically fit enough where they thought I had potential. when I left for that first day, it led to some tantrums and pouting from my siblings who didn’t make it. They eventually overcame their jealousy. They loved to hear about each and every new jutsu that I learned.

It was at the academy when I first saw him. It was him who destroyed my delusions and awakened my suppressed memories. It was Itachi Uchiha. Yet, despite his young age he kept up with the rest of his older classmates. He was only 5 years old, a prodigy amongst prodigies. When I saw his cherub, cute face for the first time, it gave me a headache. It started off as a numbing sensation on the side of my head. I collapsed on my bed from the exhaustion, closing my eyes because the blurred vision made the pain that much worse. I slept off my headache for the rest of the day. And all my previous memories were unlocked.

I was a boring human being. A lazy person who had a multitude of mental issues that barely survived off my paycheck. Got married to an equally mundane individual and by the time we were 30, the passion had worn off. We never got divorced, too afraid of dating again and leaving our two children without each other. The only happiness that kept me grounded was my writing and my hobbies. Growing up I loved anime and lessened as I grew up with more and more responsibility. But Naruto was my childhood and coping mechanism when I got bullied. And out of Naruto was my favorite character, Itachi Uchiha.

I don’t think I need to explain why anyone likes Itachi. From his tragic background and his love for his younger brother. Once as a naïve girl, I wanted to find someone like him or at least wished for a brother who loved his younger siblings like he did. And now somehow those desires came true. Because he sat only 3 rows away. Coupled with my new body’s memories of admiration for the young boy and along with my love and knowledge of what he was going to do in the future, made me yearn for him.

Not in a weird, sexual way. After all, I was still only 8 and he 5, but I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to be his confidant and most of all I wanted to save him.

When I spotted him alone at a lunch break, I decided to go introduce myself. This was going to be the new beginning of a friendship and hopefully more down the lane.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before approaching the quiet boy.

“Hello, are you Itachi-kun? Nice to meet you! I’m L/N Y/N and I sit behind you,” I cheerfully said and waved at him excitedly.

He blinked slowly and stared at me for a few minutes.

“Yes…. Nice to meet you too,” he uttered.

He stared at me for a few more minutes, making the situation more and more awkward. I let out a nervous chuckle and shuffled my feet at his intense gaze.

Itachi raised his eyebrow as if asking if I wanted anything else.

“Well I-“ I began, but was interrupted by a loud screech.

A boy collided with Itachi and knocked him over. The two tussled for a few minutes, the unknown boy laughing gleefully. While Itachi just sighed and dodged his rambunctious friend.

“Oy! Itachi, did you bring an extra bento that Mikoto-sama prepared?” The boy looked up and I stopped breathing.

It was a clearly healthy and alive, Shisui Uchiha. After a few minutes as the boys conversed, Shisui finally noticed me standing awkwardly in front of them.

He looked at me curiously and asked, “who are you?”

“That’s just my classmate. Anyway, Shisui I have my bento over there. Come,” the solemn boy said. The two boys then left while I just watched wide eyed.

Ok, so the first introduction didn’t go as I planned but I tried multiple times. However, each attempt was just as awkward as the first as I stammered and squirmed in front of Itachi’s inquisitive gaze. Apparently, my inept skills at talking to boys had somehow labeled me as a fangirl, I overheard the young boy tell his cousin.

Once after class, I watched a pretty Izumi clutch a content Itachi as he conversed with Shisui. The three Uchiha unaware of the turmoil in my heart as they went home for the day happily. I realized that day Itachi didn’t have a place for me. This world had no place for me because I was never meant to be here. This story wasn’t mine and it was never going to be.

I never tried again to attempt a conversation, too embarrassed by being called a fangirl. Before I knew it, the year was over and Itachi had graduated early along with his talented cousin. Farther away from my reach than ever, I again realized the difference between myself and the genius. I was still stuck in the academy at 9 years old with my peers. Most of all I knew in the depths of my heart that I couldn’t save him from his fate. Reality was much more bitter than anyone realized.

As for me I finally graduated on my birthday and my parents took us all out for yakitori at a restaurant. I was still going to try my hardest to be the best shinobi I possibly could be. At least if I couldn’t save Itachi and the Uchiha from the inevitable, which I doubt most people in my place could.

Unfortunately for me, my hardest didn’t amount to much. My sensei was a young impatient Genma who ironically had a toothpick in his mouth instead of a senbon. Let me summarize it for you, my team failed. Miserably. I stood there in horror, watching as my hopes and dreams for the future dissolved right in front of me. I rushed after Genma, pleading, and begging for another chance. Even resorting to full on ugly crying while he stood looking painfully uncomfortable.

“Please! I just wanna make a difference!” I begged as tears dripped down my face.

He sighed. “Fine! Just please stop crying. You’re embarrassing yourself and me.”

Genma recommended me for the Genin corps. It wasn’t where I wanted to be, but I also didn’t want to go back to academy. I figured if I spent a year on the corps, I could eventually find myself a Genin team before advancing onto Chunin.

However, once again what actually happened was far from my expectation. I didn’t spend a year or 2 years. I spent 7 years on the Genin corps. S-E-V-E-N. Years. I even spent a year on a Genin team when I was 13 only to realize my potential compared to my peers was very low. Don’t get me wrong my reincarnated body was ten times healthier and in shape than my previous coach potato one. I could barely run a mile in my previous life whereas now I could run 3 miles. However, that achievement paled in comparison to the average ninja. No matter what I did, whether it was taijutsu, genjutsu, or even ninjutsu was dull compared to everyone else. My punches lacked force, I didn’t have enough chakra for the higher level jutsus, and I couldn’t even tell the difference between a basic genjutsu to a complicated one.

Basically, I sucked, so I stuck to Genin corps. For the money of course, it paid pretty well in comparison to civilian jobs. I bought an apartment at 15 and I was able to provide for myself. But the crushing truth took a toll on my mental health. I just spend the time where I wasn’t working in my bed. I barely had energy to feed myself. I didn’t snap out of until I got straightened out by my mother.

“Y/N! When was the last time you took a bath or had a proper night sleep?!” Okasan yelled when she made an impromptu visit to my apartment.

I shrugged and took a bite of my rice ball that Okasan so nicely prepared for me.

“Look, I know being a ninja was your goal. But not everything in life works out. And not everyone has to be a shinobi to have a good life!” she said as her eyes softened.

“But what else am I supposed to do? I’ve been training to be a shinobi since I was 8 years old and none of the other jobs pay so generously,” I replied dully.

Okasan reached over and patted my hand. “Well, you don’t have to quit being a Genin just yet. Try new things or figure what else you want to do before you retire. Hell, when was the last time you had a hobby? You don’t even write like you use to.”

I considered it, maybe I could take up calligraphy or start writing again like I used to. I haven’t written anything down since I made Genin.

“Alright, I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything,” I grumbled.

“As long as you snap out of this funk and start taking care of yourself is all I ask for, Y/N” Okasan said with a soft smile.

It took a while after that conversation, but little by little I started to put in effort again. I cut my shaggy hair into an acceptable style, showered every day, and ate my meals on time. I even adopted a little stray off the streets that made itself home in my small apartment. One night coming home after my late shift, I stopped by a bookstore to buy a sturdy journal. I started off by journaling my daily life before letting my creative mind drift. In my previous life, I was a self-published erotica writer that basically did it for fun. Maybe it was something I could attempt again.

There were many drafts before I settled on a topic that I felt passionate about. In the Elemental nations, they idealized a woman who waited. Just take the bestselling Icha Icha novel for example, it involved a ninja who abandoned his wife because he was scared his enemies would target her. He spent the entire novel hoeing his way through the countries, only to realize he was still in love with his wife. The wife, who by the way, spent years celibate and faithfully waiting for her husband. That novel made me infuriatingly mad because it highlighted the double standards of the world I was born in so well. Hell, even in the future Sakura and Hinata would waste their lives, faithfully waiting on the men they love to reciprocate their feelings.

So, for my novel I decided to juxtapose those stereotypes by writing a novel about a woman named Sayaka whose boyfriend would break up with her, unknowing she was pregnant with his child. She spends her life trying to provide for her child, only for him to be kidnapped because he had a rare keikei genkai. She hires a local mercenary (Mahiro) except he’s not interested in her money but rather her. The rest of the plot was not decided yet, but I would see where it goes and plan accordingly.

The more I wrote the better I felt and the disappointment that was my career no longer felt like a death sentence. Without a laptop or anything to help me write, I had to resort to buying a used typewriter. Still I would rush home each day, excited to write another chapter. Or to get lost in the filthy world of the mercenary and desperate mother. There weren’t a lot of people I could trust to edit so I spent months editing and reediting until I had the best version of my novel. And then when I was done, I had no idea what to do with it. Did I really want to become an erotica author in this world? As violent as it was, the Elemental nations were still conservative regarding sexuality. There were many female readers who loved Icha Icha but didn’t show it in public because it was seen as a dirty book for old men. After much deliberation, I decided to contact publishing agencies that weren’t affiliated with Icha Icha.

Waiting for their responses took months and many rejections before my novel was picked up by a small agency that mostly published Nonfiction. The agency would send an editor to talk about contracts and the novel itself to Konoha. So, by my 18th birthday, I was anxiously awaiting where else fate would take me.

The editor and I had decided on a family restaurant to meet up and I dressed in my best clothes to give off the optimum impression. I really wanted this to work out for me. For once.

It didn’t take long before a harried young man in a suit came in and looked around anxiously.

“Nino-san! Over here!” I called out and waved my hand to get his attention.

He looked at me in surprise and sat down across from me.

“Uh, hello. Excuse me can you tell when Y/N-san will arrive? I’m kind of on a deadline.”

I looked at him weirdly. “Um, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you,” I said cautiously.

He stuttered wildly, blushing as he pointed at me. “B-be serious! No way are you her! You’re way too young to be writing such a – “

“Filthy, dirty novel?” I finished wryly.

He shook his head vigorously. “No! I meant such a hardcore erotica! I-I’m so sorry that came out wrong.”

I just laughed. “It’s ok. I’m a shinobi, we age faster than we look due to the trauma.”

We spent the next hour talking about the novel itself and how it would be promoted.

“So, Y/N-san. Our agency usually doesn’t deal with erotica. But your novel has a good chance to sell well if someone promoted it correctly. We want this to be known as the Icha Icha for women.”

I felt my eyebrows furrow. “Isn’t that a little presumptuous? Won’t I just get hate if I don’t live up to the expectations?”

The man let out a chuckle. “That’s true but I don’t think most people will be disappointed by it. Besides it’s very important for new authors to get their name out there. Maybe for future sequels we can tone it down, but for the first one we want to start off with a bang! Any publicity is better than none,” he reasoned.

Realizing the editor might have a point, I agreed and signed a contract with the publishing agency. The novel was due to be out December which is 6 months from now on. For the first time in a while I had achieved my goals. I had managed something without it going terribly wrong.

I got a small sum of money when I signed the contract, but I really wouldn’t be to collect royalties until the book was published. So, for the rest of my time I diligently did my job as a Genin by delivering messages and other nonsense jobs that were left over. As I avoided the shinobi bars that were filled with accomplished Chunins and Jounins, I promised myself that I would never again be embarrassed to walk these streets again. For the past few years, I had kept my eyes down as I walked through the villages as I got older and older, yet I still remained a Genin.

‘Please no more. Give me something to be proud of.’ I begged in my mind. Even if it meant a trashy porn, I was so low on self-esteem, anything would be worthwhile.

Luckily for me, it seemed like 18 years of bad karma was finally going to be turned around as the date to publish my novel got closer and closer. The agency hadn’t lied, they promoted my novel almost aggressively. Every bookstore had huge advertisement declaring the next big hit. Though, I had giggled almost manically when I saw the book’s cover for the first time. It reminded me of the many trashy novels from my previous life with the man’s shirtless abs on display with a beautiful woman clinging. However, for my novel it was obviously a rogue shinobi with his chest on display as a young girl clutched his biceps. Scarlet Heart series was the name I had chosen, and it stood out on the erotic cover. I saw many curious women fluttering around the display, almost shy in showing their interest. I even saw a man pulling away his pregnant wife as she read the synopsis, muttering angrily to himself.

When the launch of the book occurred, I holed myself in my apartment. I tried to relax and keep myself busy so I wouldn’t be too occupied with the reactions. I even took an entire week off from my usual work, feigning sickness in my family. I hung out with my oldest brother and his newborn son, trying to reacquaint myself with the siblings that I had long neglected.

I met up later with my editor to discuss how the book was faring, hopefully it did decent enough that I could have reason to continue my story. We met up at the same restaurant as before and Nino gave me a brilliant smile that quelled my fears.

“Y/N-san, your book’s sales did amazing in Konoha followed by Iwa and Kumo. The marketing towards women paid off because most of the sales came from women in their 20s to 40s. Heck, there were even a substantial amount from men who were curious. I think you should definitely continue this series. Do you have an idea where you’re going to take the story?” he gushed with excitement.

I sighed with relief, “I’m glad. I was so worried about the response I didn’t even go near any bookstores! As for sequels I have an inkling. I still have to work out everything, but I want to introduce Sayaka’s ex-boyfriend and maybe dabble in a proper love triangle.”

Nino-san nodded and said, “you should be careful how you write that triangle though. Some love triangles can get tedious and annoying, but it does play its part well in keeping the audience’s interest.”

Nino-san and I eagerly discussed the future for Scarlet Heart. I felt a flutter in my heart, knowing that for the first in forever I had something to look forward to.

Time Skip~ 1-year Kakashi POV:

Really with everything he had endured in his life, you would think the world would be willing to give him a break, right? Nope!

Most think it started with Obito’s death, but he thought it started with his father’s suicide that really began the downward spiral. Nevertheless, after his teammate’s death, he and Rin had rushed into a presumably “relationship”. But really it was a way to keep her close, so he didn’t lose anyone else. They never even kissed though he knew Rin desperately wanted to do all the things that couples do. But he remained closed off in those four months before she was killed. By him no less.

Afterwards included him coping with his trauma by joining Anbu (and for a short while Root). His sensei became Hokage; but even he would pass away along with his wife, leaving behind a tiny blond sacrifice for the village to turn their resentment against.

But he was getting ahead himself months before Rin’s death Jiraiya-sama had approached him with a gift.

Jiraiya gave him an exaggerated wink and giggled. “Here gaki. You’re so depressed that Minato and Kushina keep thinking they might have to stage an intervention. But what you need is a distraction and I have just the thing!”

He had handed over a book with a bright red cover before hopping roof to roof all the while laughing obnoxiously.

He took it with a surge of curiosity, emotions he hadn’t felt in a while since Obito tragically passed away (AKA crushed by a boulder, but he digresses).

That started his love, well more like obsession, with the Icha Icha series. First, he was revolted and ashamed, eager to find the Sannin and perhaps show him the effectiveness of his Chidori. But over time his curiosity couldn’t be contained, and he finished the naughty book in two days. He noticed how when he was occupied with the book, he hadn’t once thought of Obito and everything that was wrong with his life. Of course, he had a girlfriend then so he couldn’t risk being seen with the book outside of his humble apartment. But a year after Rin’s death, he ventured out with his hobby. The reactions of the general public had amused him beyond belief and a strange sense of vindictive righteousness set upon seeing his Anbu kohais’ reactions.

The reactions only encouraged him to read everywhere and anywhere. He even managed to piss off Gai once as the incensed man ran away to do a 100 more laps around the village. It didn’t last long before he reappeared to challenge Kakashi once more, but Kakashi appreciated the brief reprieve.

Anyway, the point of this rather tragic flashback wasn’t to gain sympathy for himself, but to showcase the real injustice that occurred at his tender age of 25. His beloved Icha Icha had a rival apparently. Which was bullshit, obviously. He wasn’t blind to the errors of the pornographic novel. The plot was simple, characters were paper-thin, and as more novels debuted in the series, the more apparent the similarities between each novel became. But the series was fast moving, the sex was incredibly detailed and arousing, and the series was frankly addicting. Once someone became a fan, it was impossible not to reach for the next one.

So, when he heard about this supposed series that was going to rival Icha Icha, he had scoffed and rolled his eyes. Many contenders claimed the same thing before they faded off into oblivion when everyone realized the superiority of Icha Icha. The first four months of the series’ debut he made it his mission to ignore all the hype and kept rereading his collection. After all, when the next issue of Icha Icha released, everyone would forget the hype of this wannabe.

Unfortunately, the world never adheres to his expectations and loves to fuck him over every chance it got. Kakashi, once again, had failed another Genin team because Hokage-sama thought he had potential as a sensei. He must have been smoking that pipe too much lately. The rest of his fellow Jounin invited him to a bar where he reluctantly agreed and was dragged off by Asuma.

They settled in and ordered some drinks, while Kakashi read his book, half listening to the conversation around him.

“I’m telling you this book is really good. I know people say it’s for women, but it’s so much more than that.” Kurenai persuaded Genma who just looked skeptical.

“Even Asuma liked it!” She pointed to the smoker who just looked embarrassed at the sudden attention.

Asuma cleared his voice a couple times. “Well, it’s not that bad at all. It kept me busy for a couple of hours for a few days.”

Kurenai rolled her eyes at him. “He loved it. He told me he did.”

Kakashi’s interest peaked and he lowered his book down.

“Wait, are you talking about that new series that everyone’s losing their minds over?”

Kurenai’s eyes lit up and she looked eager rather than the calm, collected Jounin she usually was.

“Yeah, you read it Kakashi? I never thought for once you would put down that trash and try something else.”

Kakashi felt his ire rise and his single visible eyesmiled at the red eyed kunoichi.

“Why Kurenai doesn’t that book also have porn in it? Doesn’t that mean you read trash too?”

Kurenai’s cheeks heated up. “Well, it does but it’s also about a betrayed woman who learns to love again and honestly it’s much more nuanced than whatever Icha Icha achieved in its six sequels.”

Kakashi felt his eyebrows rise. He highly doubted that, but he couldn’t help but add in.

“And how do you know what’s in Icha Icha?”

The blush on Kurenai’s face deepened. “I might have read it but only because Anko forced me to. To ‘loosen’ up or whatever that means.”

Their fellow Jounin chuckled as Kurenai tossed back a drink as she tried to cool her overheated face.

The conversation moved on mercifully for the embarrassed woman, but Kakashi also lost his interest and he returned to the passage where Misaki was educating her lover on the preciseness of oral sex.

Kakashi hoped that would be the last time he ever heard of that book. But again, the hype for this novel continued. He spotted more women with erotica in their hands than he ever did in his lifetime. Even kunoichi seemed to have lost their minds as the book was the hot topic no matter where he went. Even the Hokage’s secretary was seen reading the porn while she was on the job. He was sick and tired of hearing about this supposedly incredible book. Kakashi just wanted to read his book in peace can’t the village go back to a time where it wasn’t consumed by porn?

Kakashi sighed as another day passed and yet another Genin team failed. When will Hokage-sama finally get the message he just wasn’t cut out for teaching? He sighed with relief as he flipped the entrance banner of Ichikaru Ramen and sat down on one of the stools.

“Just a miso ramen. Thanks,” he called out tiredly. Kakashi looked around the restaurant and was surprised to see another person at the other end. He barely noticed her; her chakra presence wasn’t much. She was just in a plain white t shirt and some pants. A civilian he guessed. Kakashi turned back when his order was placed in front of him. He stealthily looked around the restaurant and saw no one was paying attention to him. He pulled down his mask and started eating his meal. It was nice not to eat in big gulps for once lest someone saw his face.

When he was halfway through his meal, he heard the sound of someone turning pages and muttering. He turned around to see his neighbor writing in her book and she seemed to be fairly frustrated. Just as Kakashi was about to turn around and mind his business, he noticed that the book was the infamous Scarlet Hearts. He internally groaned. Really? Just how bad was his luck?

“Is the book any good?” He called out to the young girl.

Oh, damn why was he getting her attention? Abort! Abort! This day didn’t consist of making polite conversations with a civvie.

Just as he was about to maybe perform a last minute shunshin, the girl looked up at him and stared at him in surprise.

He felt nervous when she just kept staring at him for a while. Did she recognize him as the “friend killer” and infamous “copycat ninja”?

“Uh- Hello?” He waved his hands in front of her face.

The girl looked startled and flushed. “Oh, sorry. I got lost in thought. What was your question again?”

Kakashi pointed at her book and asked, “the book, is it as good as the hype says it is?”

She just seemed even more startled by the fact that he was asking about her book. “W-well, I’m not sure about other people’s opinions. But it’s worth reading just for curiosity’s sake. I found it pretty good.”

Kakashi stared at the awful book, wishing he could set it on fire just by glaring at it. “See, I don’t see why people are comparing it to Icha Icha. It can’t possibly be that good!”

“I kind of have to agree on that. The marketing really didn’t do it justice,” the girl muttered.

Kakashi tilted his head towards the younger girl and sent a relaxed smile her way. “Ah, thank you. Finally, someone who understands.”

The girl shook her head. “I meant trying to compare the two books wasn’t a good idea. They’re two different books, the only thing they have in common is that they both have explicit scenes.”

Seeing the confused look on his face, the girl further elaborated. “Icha Icha is intended for a one type of audience and it does its job well. There’s nothing wrong with that after all it has an ardent fan in you. But I feel like Scarlet Heart can be enjoyed by any mature individual. And for me what’s the most important thing is that it portrays its women realistically. Icha Icha is based off this fantasy, ideal type of woman who doesn’t have any drama of her own and goes around solving the male character’s issues. Or she’s a passive victim in the overall story for the hero to win over. This heroine in Scarlet Heart is cynical, hard to get to know due to her past. The male character is a typical chauvinistic guy who thinks he can have anyone he wants. But over time as they get to know each other the layers fall apart to show two lonely people who’ve been waiting for someone to connect to.”

Kakashi looked at the girl critically who sent a tentative smile to him after her long explanation. Her features were quite plain and at first glance she wasn’t anything exceptional to look at. But her smile lit up her entire face. He thought over her words, no one had ever explained the book quite like that. But then again, he never gave them the time to explain either. Perhaps, he was wrong to do so.

“Here maybe you would like to form an opinion yourself and see if it holds up,” she said as she handed over her own copy of Scarlet Heart.

He grabbed it from her grip, touching her soft hands by accident, quickly pulling away. “Are you sure? Weren’t you writing in it earlier?”

With a cute prominent blush, she replied, “it’s fine I bought that paperback copy to write in. I have another one at home. You can keep it. If we meet again tell me what you thought of it.”

Kakashi nodded and put the book with his Icha Icha in the weapon pouch on his hip.

“Mah, I’m sure we will. By the way what’s your name? After all, when I see you next time, I have to thank the person who will put up with my complaints.”

“Oh, I’m L/N Y/N. Nice to meet you,” she said with another bright grin aimed his way.

Ignoring the unconscious shivers that erupted on his body, he returned it with another one of his patent fake smiles.

“Hatake Kakashi. Nice to meet you as well, Y/N-san.”

The conversation died a few minutes later and he paid for his meal before leaving for his lonesome apartment. Maybe today the lonely dwelling won’t be so bad to deal with, what with new reading material the night might just pass by really quickly.

Return to Reader’s POV

You know when I began my porn writing journey in the Naruto world, I never for a second thought I would attract Kakashi’s attention. I mean I knew he read porn, but I honestly thought he would stay attached to Icha Icha forever. In the anime, he still read the book even years after Jiraiya’s death, so it just goes to show how much of a devoted fan he was.

When I met him accidently in Ichikaru Ramen, I was in a state of shock. I’m pretty sure he thought I was just another weird fangirl. ‘Just like Itachi.’ I couldn’t help but think.

But him asking about my novel and actually pouting about the attention it gained made me giggle even hours later. Still giving away the novel I was rereading to spot mistakes and plot holes was bold. I genuinely hoped he liked the novel; it would be a huge compliment if I managed to change his perspective. I know I wasn’t ever going to change his mind about Icha Icha, but he had plenty of money to support both series. I probably wasn’t ever going to see him again, but it was nice to interact with a canon character for once without entirely embarrassing myself.

I shook off the excitement from interacting with the scarecrow sensei and tried to focus on brainstorming my second novel. The love triangle was going to become much more integral in this part and I was going have to work extra hard to make readers sympathize and like Shoutaro. Because many of my readers were already enamored with the hotheaded, flirtatious mercenary with a heart of gold, Mahiro. The best way to build the triangle was to showcase pros and cons of both men. Thereby making the triangle stronger and give readers something to root for. While there would be only one man who would get the girl, I wanted readers to feel conflicted between the two men. However, to keep the choice from happening out of nowhere, I also had to hint throughout the novel why Mahiro and Sayaka was the best choice. So, by the third novel when Sayaka made her choice, it wouldn’t seem like it happened out of nowhere. Indeed, the sequel was harder to write than the first one because I had high expectations to overcome this time. Brainstorming even took longer than normal. Though, it was challenging, I decided needed a break and took a trip to the markets to finally restock my empty fridge.

Slowly I made my way through the vegetable stalls and tried to pick out the ripest ones. Most people usually tried to barter the prices. However, since the massive royalties I had more money than I knew what to do with and so I paid the full amount at each stall. Most of the produce stalls were run by elderly couples and they needed the money for their livelihood.

I bowed to an obasan and thanked her when she gave a few extra tomatoes after I paid.

“You know most people would try to barter the prices down to a fair price,” a deep voice interrupted just as I was about to walk away.

I jumped and almost dropped my produce. A steady hand gripped my hips and set me right. I looked up to the masked, silver haired Jounin. I blushed, feeling his strong hands on my body. His single eye widened a bit before he relaxed and let go of me.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Y-yes, thank you. Hatake-san,” I stuttered and bowed my head.

“Ma, no need to call me Hatake-san. That makes me feel older than people think I am.” He said as he waved off my gratitude.

“Hai, K-kakashi-san then. What are you doing here? No offense but I didn’t realize that elite shinobis had time to shop and cook for themselves.”

It was true from what I heard. All elite shinobi, especially men, rarely cooked for themselves relying on easy to make or restaurants meals to get them through the day. Some even ate rations to forgo meals in a rush.

Kakashi raised his eyebrow at me. “Well, I was actually looking for you. I’ve finished the book you loaned me after a week. It’s only right to return it.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright. I told you to keep it didn’t I?”

I felt my head get hit lightly by something. I looked up to see it was my paperback novel. When did he pull that out? Did he have it on him all this time and I didn’t noticed it until now?

“You’re quite stubborn, aren’t you? Let’s just say I needed an excuse to find my partner in crime and tell her my opinion of the book.”

I sighed, realizing that I couldn’t get away from his rant that he will no doubt tell me with relish on how much he hated the book.

“Alright, but I have to put my groceries away.” I said lifting my bags.

“It’s fine. As long as it isn’t milk or meat it wouldn’t be spoiled for a few hours. Come on, I’ll treat you to some dango.” He walked away slightly slouched and relaxed with his hands in his pockets.

I looked after him helplessly, hesitating on whether I should follow or not.

“You better follow him, jou-chan. He’s quite handsome,” the obasan said as she helped another customer. A few giggles slipped out from the customer and I felt my cheeks go hot from embarrassment. I bowed and thanked the elderly lady again before following the Jounin.

I caught up to him in no time, we both walked silently before we came onto the small stand that was selling the sweet.

Kakashi told me to take a seat on a bench nearby as he grabbed the sweets. I put down my groceries near me as I waited for my companion to return.

He came back with two skewers of dango and handed me one while he held onto the other one.

“So, what did you think of the novel?” I asked as I took a bite of the dango.

“I hate it to admit it but it’s good. Not better than Icha Icha of course, but it’s better than some of the others that tried to ride the coattails of Icha Icha.”

I felt a burst of butterflies inside my stomach and I leaned forward eagerly. “Really?!! What did you like it about it specifically?”

He seemed amused at my enthusiasm. “Ah, well I liked how the author built up the romance. They didn’t have sex right away, but when they did it made sense-“

I felt my heartbeat increase and my ears felt hot when I heard the word sex come out of Kakashi’s mouth. How did I ever not know how nice his deep voice was? I bet he would be really good at dirty talk—Ahh, nononono. That was not a good topic to think about while you’re talking to the man. I bit my lip to concentrate on what Kakashi was trying to tell me.

“And I like how the female characters made smart decisions and acted cautiously instead of getting kidnapped all the time. It made them seem like real people instead of plot conveniences.” He finished with an eyesmile.

I returned his smile, liking that he appreciated the portrayal of the female characters. Some of the detractors apparently didn’t like the more rounded characters and felt they should just be used as sauce instead of being the main dish.

“Do you prefer the woman in Scarlet Hearts or Icha Icha?” I asked playfully.

He narrowed his eyes at my tone. “Weeeell, the women in Icha Icha are much more beautiful, but the women in Scarlet Heart are more attainable than the ones in Icha Icha.”

I let out a laugh. “That’s nice to hear. But I’m pretty sure that Sayaka isn’t a real person. Sorry, Kakashi-san.”

He let out a disappointed sigh. “I guess I will have to safeguard my heart until I can find someone close to her then.”

I snorted knowing Kakashi would remain single even at the end of the series where everyone was getting married and having kids.

“What? You think it’s hopeless?”

I just sent him an innocent smile and said,” I have no idea what you’re talking about Kakashi-san.”

Me and Kakashi stayed for a few more minutes before I decided to head home. Kakashi stuck close to me, telling me he would keep me company until I arrived. He looked surprise at the neighborhood I was living in. The small apartment I was previously inhabited was now upgraded to an upscale three-bedroom apartment. It was a safe neighborhood that was occupied by wealthy merchants and high-ranking shinobis. I ignored his reaction and continued to walk toward my apartment.

When I had trouble trying to juggle my groceries and trying to grab my keys from my purse, Kakashi stepped in to grab my bags. I thanked him and opened the door. He casually walked in and left the bags in the kitchen at my directions.

“Would you like some tea? I think some tea would be good with the sweets we just had.” Kakashi just nodded in agreement as he looked around my apartment. The tiny stray who I adopted became a giant, fluffy monster who was now sniffing Kakashi’s feet and rubbing against his legs.

I giggled and left to make some iced sencha green tea. I tried not to let my excitement that THE Hatake Kakashi was standing in my living room, distract me from being a good host. I filled the glass with tea and dropped some ice cubes in it before putting it on a tray and bringing it out to the living room.

“Kakashi-san? Here’s your tea,” I called out happily and looking up to see Kakashi’s back.

I furrowed my eyebrows when he didn’t respond. “Kakashi-san?” He was still turned around and looking at something.

I put the tray down on a coffee table and approached the unresponsive Jounin. I looked down to see papers in his hand and felt my face pale drastically.

“A-ahhh! That’s not for your eyes!” I laughed hysterically and snatched my papers from his hands. I quickly took all my notes and notebooks which I brainstormed in and dropped them off in my bedroom. With a head full of excuses as to why I had Scarlet Heart’s sequel on the sofa, I made my way back to Kakashi.

“You’re the author of Scarlet Heart?”Was the first thing he asked when he saw my face. I felt my face heat up.

“U-um, no! That was just me amateurly writing as to what I think will happen in the future!”

He shot me a serious look. “Do you think I’m stupid? That was the first chapter all neatly written down. And the character profiles of future characters like her ex-boyfriend are all filled out accurately. Plus, you’re a single young girl that’s living in such a rich neighborhood which many people can’t afford unless they have some serious cash. Cash from a recently released erotica maybe?”

His intense gaze made me sweat profusely and I couldn’t hold eye contact for more than a minute.

“Yes. Yes, I’m the author of Scarlet Hearts.” I whispered, looking at the ground.

I quickly gazed back at him when I heard a snort. Kakashi gave me an incredulous look.

“I can’t believe it. Even though I saw it with my own eyes. You’re so young! How old are you, 16?”

I pouted, puffing out my cheeks. “I’m 19! Besides you’re a shinobi what does age even matter? You’re a legal adult when you’re a Genin!”

Kakashi let out a chuckle and softly patted my head. “I know that but you’re a civilian so it’s different.”

I bit my lips deciding whether to tell him I was actually a former Genin corps. Deciding I didn’t need the genius looking at me in pity, I didn’t correct him.

“Well, now that you know. Please keep this a secret, ok? I just want to live in anonymity and write my books. Hence the pen name.”

Kakashi agreed and messed with my hair some more.

“You got it, Y/N-chan.” I blushed at the added chan in my name.

He downed his iced tea in a hurry when an Anbu appeared at the window with a mission for him. I watched with amazement as Kakashi disappeared with a shunshin and then scowled heavily looking at all the leaves on the floor of my apartment.

“Note to self. Do not let elite shinobi shunshin in and out of my apartment,” I grumbled to myself as I swept up.

Kakashi’s POV 2

You know how once you find out something about someone it changes how you look at them. He was now intensely curious about Y/N. He figured she was a normal innocent girl, but boy was he wrong about everything. How was he supposed to know that the sex scenes that had him riveted to the point that he took a shower to calm himself before he resumed reading was written by a cherub slip of a girl? After his discovery Kakashi was unable to leave her alone. He frequently took time out of day when he wasn’t on a mission or training his helpless cute team (he had a team now!!), he was spending time with Y/N. It was kind of weird at first after all he went out of his way to avoid human contact, but in this case, he wanted to know what made her tick. All her favorite things and her habits. Kakashi wanted to know what made her sad or what made her be flushed with happiness.

Most of all he wanted to know how she came up with all the scenarios in her novel. But even he knew that if he asked her bluntly, she would no doubt kick him out of her apartment and refuse to speak to him again. It also didn’t help that his imagination went wild each time he saw her. All those scenarios would inappropriately pop up in his head and she would star in all of them. The blush on her face gave him a good idea on how she would look with her eyes dilated and with him on top. Whenever that happened the excitement coursing through would become prominent and he had to take a few breaths to calm him down. Imagining Gai in a bikini always did the trick for him.

Kakashi, after months of speculation, came to one conclusion as why Y/N was so fascinating. He wanted her. He wanted her in a way that men who were attracted to women did. In a way that meant commitment and all the mushy feelings. He groaned at that idea, Kakashi so didn’t want to act like Minato-sensei whenever he was around his hot-headed wife.

He could just ignore the feelings; he was quite good at ignoring all the turmoil inside of him. But his crisis shinobi therapist said he could no longer do that. He had to solve his lingering issues if he wanted to move forward with his life like his survivor’s guilt and his unresolved issues with his dead father. So that meant he had to make it obvious to Y/N that he liked her. Should he shout his youthful love on the top of the Hokage mountain at early in the morning like Gai would do? Kakashi chuckled at the novel idea. Ok, he was trying to get her to date him not run away from him. Luckily for him, fate decided to not be a bitch this time and give Y/N a nudge.

Kakashi was inside of her apartment like he usually was nowadays with her round monster of a cat on his lap. He absentmindedly patted the feline as he purred away like no one’s business. His ninken weren’t happy with him lately, but they will have to put up with it because Y/N was going to be around him for a long time if he had anything to say about it. He looked at Y/N who was hard at work on her second novel, typing away at the machine she called a typewriter. No matter what Kakashi did today, he wasn’t able to get her attention. She was intensely focused on the sex scenes apparently, which was a shame. Because he was right here, and she could be doing much more than just imagining it.

A mischievous idea popped into his head.

“So, Y/N-chan,” he called out.

She responded with a distracted “hm”.

“Do those explicit parts have any truth to them?”

That got the attention of Y/N and she turned around with a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean most people write about what they know. So, I’m asking if you have attempted anything from the books you write?”

Kakashi had pride within himself for the many ways he made Y/N blush. But the flush on her cheeks, ears, and her neck had no rival with the way her eyes seem to swirl with embarrassment.

“Kakashi-kun! I-I-. You can’t just ask that!”

“It’s true though. Everyone does research for their novels. Especially Jiraiya-sama,” he stated nonchalantly despite his eyes beaming with amusement.

She pressed her hands against her overwhelmingly hot cheeks.

“I’m not like that Sannin! I’ve never had sex before! I’m still a virgin. I just write whatever pops into my head,” she mumbled out.

Kakashi got up and made his way to Y/N. He leaned into her face as Y/N tried to scramble back, trying to get some space in between them.

“Y/N, if you ever need inspiration for your book. I’m right here and I’m happy to volunteer for such a good cause,” he said cheekily.

Her eyes widened and she gaped at him. She blinked several times as if she couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth.

Kakashi touched her cheeks, breaking her out of the stupor she was in. As he stroked her soft skin with one hand, the other pulled down his mask to reveal his face.

Y/N let out a squeak and gazed hungrily at his exposed face. Kakashi never considered what people thought of his face honestly but her reaction was gratifying.

He leaned in even closer and her eyes fluttered closed at his proximity. Knowing she was anticipating as much he was, Kakashi wasted no time in connecting their lips. She tasted heavenly and she let out a moan when he gently nipped at her bottom lip. He’s kissed plenty of willing partners, but none excited him the way she did. Her scent and the way her breath hitched when he brought her into his embrace intoxicated him further. It was obvious from the way she was responding; Y/n didn’t have a lot of experience. But he held her face gently and slowly swirled his tongue around hers, guiding her through what might be her first kiss. When she got the hang of it, Kakashi removed his hands from her face to her hips. Not wasting another moment, he gripped her ass tightly and appreciated the thickness he had been admiring for a while. She was an eager little thing and greedy. Every time they separated for a breather; she came back with more intensity than before. It’s like he awakened something, and she was willing to take whatever she could get. Unfortunately for Y/N, he didn’t just want to spend his time kissing. No, he wanted to inspire a very, very naughty section that would light the imagination of every woman in Konoha.

Kakashi pecked her pink, swollen lips one time before removing himself. She looked earnestly at him, trying to reconnect.

“How about you and I head to your room. And I could show you the benefits of a chapter on oral sex,” he huskily whispered.

Apparently, Y/N didn’t need further prompting because she dragged him into her room and swiftly closed the door.

Kakashi spent the rest of the night fulfilling his promising words. And when the second novel of Scarlet Hearts came out, chapter 13 became infamous amongst all. And all the practitioners of oral sex cursed the author because they could not live up to the fantasy that chapter inspired.

#kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x reader #naruto fanfiction #naruto x reader #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi imagines #kakashi hakate #naruto

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f00pyf00p · 4 years ago

Text

Skateboard Go Zoom

Rating: General Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Foster System, Mentions of TERFs Word count: 4029 Summary: The poor victim Ms. Williams had preyed on began to stutter an answer. Virgil tried to pay attention, he really did, but the sun had decided to come out from behind a cloud at that exact moment and the light hit Logan in the face and suddenly Virgil was much more interested in watching Logan blink against it.His eyelashes always seemed golden tipped in the light. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 5: Vocab card/Skateboard @analogicalweek

Read on AO3

Their town's skatepark was small. People trickled in and out of it, but there were never more than four people looking to use it at a time (unless of course, a group of high schoolers came together), and anyone stopping to watch only ever hung around for about a minute before continuing on their way.

The park consisted of a smaller-sized bowl, a short flat rail Virgil only ever used to practice hippie jumps, and a couple of quarter pipe ramps facing one another. There were several graffiti designs, a couple that Virgil had done himself, but generally, the park was well maintained.

Virgil absolutely loved it.

It was a rare afternoon to find the park devoid of Virgil. When he couldn’t be in the bowl, Virgil was manualing from quarter to quarter or practicing whatever newest trick he was working on off to the side. At the moment, that was an early grab finger flip. It was a move where he was supposed to squat down, grab the nose of his board with his hand, then lift up, while jumping, and flip the board so he landed flat on it and continued rolling.

At the moment, Virgil kept pulling up on the nose before he hopped and ending up not doing much of anything- besides tripping over the damn thing. He had gotten it a few times though; it was a work in process.

But of course, Virgil could only go to the park in the afternoons. Right now it was morning. Which meant he was in the worst possible place on earth, in the worst possible class, with the worst possible person sitting next to him.

“8 is to the power of 4x+2,” Ms. Williams said loudly. “And it's equal to 64. So, what do we do to solve for x?”

The worst person Virgil could possibly be sitting next to’s hand shot into the air.

Ms. Williams sighed. “Anyone besides Logan?”

The class was silent. Logan’s hand slowly stuttered back to his side and he looked down at his paper.

Virgil peeked over at it and found all the practice problems Ms. Williams had said they would be doing together already finished, answers neatly circled and not an eraser mark on the damn thing.

Which was impressive because Ms. Williams had only handed them out about five minutes ago.

“Sally? Do you know where to start?”

The poor victim Ms. Williams had preyed on began to stutter an answer. Virgil tried to pay attention, he really did, but the sun had decided to come out from behind a cloud at that exact moment and the light hit Logan in the face and suddenly Virgil was much more interested in watching Logan blink against it.

His eyelashes always seemed golden tipped in the light.

Okay, freak. Virgil scolded himself. You’re in math class, not theater.

He had just managed to pull his attention back to the whiteboard in front of them when Logan had the fucking audacity to brush his hair back with his hand and then all Virgil’s useless brain could think about what it would feel like?

Was it soft? It certainly looked soft. He could imagine running his fingers through the black roots before wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck and-

Stop it.

Virgil’s brain decided not to listen to his request and began to wonder on repeat if Logan’s lips would be squishy and delicate, or more commanding.

He glanced over at Logan and found the boy watching him. They met eyes and almost instantaneously, both Logan and Virgil looked away. At this point, Virgil was sure he looked like a tomato, and it was very small comfort to know that Logan’s face had darkened as well.

It took a moment for Virgil to gather himself, but he forced his attention back to the board and concentrated on each one of the practice questions Ms. Williams had assigned them. They ended up finishing a little early, so Ms. Williams passed out their homework as well.

Virgil, apparently, had not learned his lessons from the earlier eye contact and spent the entirety of math glancing over at Logan. Logan (of course) had already finished his homework and was leafing through what appeared to be a psychology book with notes all over the margins and Virgil watched as he reached over and highlighted a certain section.

God, he was adorable.

Logan glanced over at him again and again, both boys looked away instantly. Cursing himself, Virgil made a quiet vow that he wouldn’t look at Logan for the rest of the period- a vow that he broke not even a full minute later.

Math was a very stressful period.

Somehow, Virgil managed to finish all homework problems just as the bell rang and he shoved the papers into his bag before practically running out of the room.

He didn’t notice the wide pair of brown eyes that followed him out the door.

The skatepark was a little busier than normal- meaning that every piece of equipment was currently in use- but that simply gave Virgil the time to practice the early grab finger flip, a trick that continued to elude him like the annoying thing it was.

Rolling rolling… now jump and snatch! Flip and land it!

Virgil grinned as he put his foot down and came to a stop. That was the fourth time in a row he had gotten the trick down, and while it wasn’t nearly close to perfection, he was very happy with it.

He was about to do a 180 hippie jump over the rail when out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted a young African-American boy crouched over a book. His right hand held a pencil that he was diligently using to underline an area in the gigantic book he held and he followed that by a little scribble of notes off to the side

Virgil would’ve recognized that face anywhere.

Logan?

No no no no no no no noooo…

What is he doing here?

I want to talk to him.

No. Talking is bad. We don’t do that here.

Just go up and say “Hi. It’s Virgil from math class.”

ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Okay, what about an excuse? “Hi, it’s Virgil from math class. Sorry to bother you, but I’m struggling with question 3 on the homework-”

NO. That’s weird. And creepy.

Okay, what if we just wave to him. Waving is normal.

No, it's not.

Well, it's also weird if you don’t acknowledge him.

Shut uppppp.

Virgil swallowed. He shook his head wildly before facing the rail again and riding right for it.

As soon as the rail got close enough, Virgil jumped up and off of his board, and spun his body 180 degrees so rather than facing the beautiful boy on the bench, he looked over at the bowl. His landing was perfect, as expected of him.

He wondered if Logan was watching.

Virgil did another kickflip and then almost stopped to bash his head against the wall.

Riding was for him. For the adrenaline when soaring through the bowl, for the wind in his face, for the achievement when he finally mastered a new trick. Not for showing off to hot boys.

He wondered if Logan would be impressed by a flamingo.

Pull yourself together, Casey.

For the next couple of hours, Virgil did his best to forget about the boy taking notes in his book and concentrated on enjoying himself. He managed to get a number of different turns in the bowl, where he could enjoy doing a couple of bonelesses- a trick where he grabs the board, flips it up in front of him, and jumps off of his front foot, then turns the board and aims his front foot so it lands on the board. He got a couple of cheers each time he did one of those.

Later that night, when most people had cleared out, Logan and Virgil remained. Logan still hadn’t looked up from that stupid book, but Virgil had once watched Logan forget to go to lunch because he was engulfed in reading, so that wasn’t very surprising.

Virgil was back to working on his early grab finger flip when Logan’s black glasses slid down his nose. In one movement, Logan shoved his glasses back up, made a note in his book, and stuck the end of his pencil into his mouth.

Virgil tripped over the tail of his board and sent it riding solo, straight into Logan’s foot.

Logan glanced down at it

This was it. This was the end. Virgil was going to die, right here, and Logan would forever remember him as the terrible skateboarder who sent boards flying into people’s feet like a complete newb.

For some obnoxious reason, however, Virgil kept breathing and his heart kept beating- admittedly at a mile a minute. His hands became clammy as Logan looked over at him, back down at the board, and said;

“Do I… do I kick it back to you? I don’t want to break it.”

Holy shit, they were talking.

It took a few seconds for Virgil to realize Logan needed an answer and that they had in fact, been standing in silence for the past 30 seconds.

“Oh! Yeah! Sure!” Virgil debated slapping himself in the face. “It’s durable, trust me. I’ve wiped out on it loads of times.”

At this point, Virgil was pretty sure his face was brighter than the sun and he was more than ready to find a ditch to curl up and die in.

Logan put his foot on the tail of the nose of the board and before Virgil would warn him that it was too far to the left, Logan pushed and the board took off.

It rode straight for Virgil for about three seconds before promptly turning and heading off on its own adventure to the right.

Logan's entire face went a warm brown and he instantly leaped to his feet and went to grab the board. Virgil didn’t really notice and the two of them made it there at the same time, barely a couple of feet apart.

Virgil kicked his board up so the tail landed in his hand.

“I um- Sorry,” Logan said. “I mean to push it towards you.”

Virgil waved a hand to say “no problem” mostly because his tongue had stopped working in his mouth and he was pretty sure if he said it aloud it would be a garble of complete gibberish. He tried to come up with something to say- something to get this beautiful, beautiful boy to keep talking to him- but nothing was coming to mind and he was going to miss the one opportunity he had and then he would die alone and sad-

“You’re skateboard tricks are cool.” Logan scratched the back of his neck and Virgil’s heart stuttered to a halt. “I saw a couple of them while I was working. You’re very impressive.”

It was all Virgil could do not to squeal.

“Thank you.” Somehow, he found it within himself to keep his voice steady.

He still needed to say something else.

What else could he say?

Ummmm…

“I could teach you if you want.”

What?! NO!

It’s fine, it’s fine. He’ll just say no thanks and then I can go spend the rest of my life cringing at this moment.

“If you really wouldn’t mind, I do think I would enjoy acquiring a new skill.” Logan looked up and met Virgil’s eyes. “It sounds… fun.”

What?

Virgil blinked.

Logan. The most beautiful person on the planet. Wanted to hang out. With him?

Him?!

The sun might as well have just set in the east. Virgil closed and opened his mouth several times before he finally figured out that using his vocal cords was helpful in human communication and said;

“Y-yeah. Sure.” Virgil licked his lips. “I can go over the really basic stuff now if you want.”

“Satisfactory.”

“Right. Okay. Then um…” Virgil dropped his board onto the floor in front of them and took a couple of steps back. “So there are two basic stances. There’s regular, where you have your left foot in the front, and then right back, and goofy, which is opposite. You’re- Are you right-handed?”

Logan nodded.

“Okay. Then I’d go regular. That’s usually most comfortable for right-handed people.”

Logan nodded again and before Virgil could give any more instructions stepped onto the board. Almost instantly, the board titled forward and Logan went stumbling off it, right into Virgil.

Virgil caught his shoulders with both hands. “Right. So don’t do that.”

A half-smile appeared on Logan’s face and Virgil’s heart did a somersault. He managed to keep his breathing steady and let go of Logan in turn by reaching for the board and pulling it back over to them.

“So instead of… whatever you just did, you’re going to put your left foot near the nose- or um, the front of the board- a little after the bolt. And then your right foot should be shoulder-width apart at a slight angle. On the tail.”

Logan stepped up again, this time more cautiously. He glanced over at Virgil, who smiled encouragingly, and then slowly placed his feet precisely where Virgil had told him.

A more real, fond smile appeared on Virgil’s face. This guy and following directions…

“Right. Now bend your knees a little for better balance just use your right foot to shove you forward.”

Logan did both at once. The board rolled- a lot slower than Virgil could remember ever going and he stopped after a few feet, but when Logan looked back his entire face had lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile back.

Skateboard lessons became a daily thing. Every day, after school Virgil and Logan would go to the skatepark (separately) and Virgil would spend the first two hours dicking around and doing tricks while Logan would read some random stupidly heavy nonfiction book. Once people had cleared out, Virgil and Logan would begin their “lesson” which started off as simple instructions but quickly devolved into actually talking.

The first time the talking happened, Virgil had been questioning Logan about being home on time.

“It’s getting dark.” Virgil glanced at the sun falling behind them and then back at Logan, who was trying (and failing) to do an ollie (a very fundamental skateboard jump). “Do you need to worry about going home?”

Logan jumped up and the skateboard hit the floor with an ugly crash. “I like being out of the house.”

“You need to make sure you’re comfortable popping the board up,” Virgil advised. He paused. “Your parents won’t mind?”

Logan shrugged. “My parents died when I was a baby and I currently reside in a house with eight other foster kids. They’ll barely notice.” He placed both feet on the board and leaned down, so the nose of the board was up in the air and his back foot firmly planted the tail on the ground. “I’ve got the popping down. I can’t do the jumping part.”

Virgil hadn’t been quite sure what to say. In the end, they had just carried on with the lesson.

The next time it happened, Logan had mentioned how the term “ssri” kept showing up in his newest psychology book and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

“I mean, I’m aware it's a type of medication,” Logan informed him as he tried (and failed) to perform the ollie again. “But it seems to be a category and I don’t know for what.”

“Oh its selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors,” Virgil said calmly. “I take Celexa, so I’ve had that term thrown in my face a lot.”

Logan blinked at him. “Celexa is prescribed for depression.”

Virgil met his eyes, licked his lips, and then sheepishly looked down at the floor. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“I um…” Logan shoved his glasses up his nose. “I think you’re very strong. I don’t know what it's like, but simply reading about it suggests that you’re incredibly strong. And if…” his voice trailed off. “If you ever want to talk to anyone, I’m open.”

Virgil had never appreciated anyone more than he appreciated Logan at that moment.

Skateboarding after that became more limited. Not because either one was no longer interested- but because conversation would take up quite quickly and figuring out how to ollie suddenly wasn’t the priority.

“You read all of Twilight!?” Virgil gaped at him from his spot beside Logan on the bench. “How!? You’re Mr. Read Long Boring Nonfiction books!”

“I read fiction too!” Logan was half-smiling again. “But, I didn’t read Twilight to enjoy the story so much as to critique it. It’s the same reason I read the 50 Shades of Grey series and watched The Kissing Booth.”

Virgil stared at him open-mouthed.

“I have a notebook- well, a series of notebooks really- dedicated to ripping apart literature. I’ll react to each chapter or each arc of the movie and put downtimes and chapter so I can go back to it, and then write what went wrong plotwise, characterwise, setting-wise, etc.” Logan’s smile turned into a full one at the look on Virgil’s face. “It’s really quite enjoyable.”

“Do you have them on good works as well?”

“Certainly! I have an entire notebook simply on where Harry Potter went wrong. Admittedly, I made it after J.K. came as a TERF in a bit of a rage but it is quite detailed.”

“I’ll need to read that,” Virgil said sincerely. “I’m pissed at her as well.”

Logan shoved his glasses up his nose and wiped his hands on his pants. “Yeah?”

“Oh yes. Look- here.” Virgil got up to his feet and offered Logan a hand. When Logan grasped it, butterflies exploded in his stomach and those butterflies flew all the faster when Logan didn’t drop his hand after.

Virgil swallowed and used the connection to pull Logan toward the two quarter ramps facing one another. There on the side in big red and gold bubble letters were the words “Fuck JK Rowling.”

“I wasn’t very imaginative,” Virgil admitted. “I was just kind of… mad and I figured this would make me feel better.”

“Did it?”

“A little.” He paused. “Not really.”

Logan’s shoulders had turned in on itself. It was the very first time Virgil had seen Logan without perfect posture and it didn’t sit right with him.

“Did ripping it apart in your notebook help you?”

“No.” Logan looked at the floor. “Why were you mad at JK?”

“Because she doesn’t support Trans people?”

“Do you?” Logan's voice was small and suddenly Virgil understood exactly why he had been acting off.

“Yes. Virgil looked at his friend until Logan met his eyes. “Yes. I do.”

Logan bit his bottom lip. “So if I told you that I was trans…”

“I’d thank you for trusting me and promise not to tell anyone without your permission. And then nothing would change.”

The responding smile was brighter than anything Logan had ever given him in the past.

There were lighter conversations as well. Somehow, Logan dragged it out of Virgil that he liked spiders and stuffed animals, and the next week, Logan had sheepishly given him a stuffed spider “in payment for the lessons.” Virgil had told him it was unnecessary, but Logan said if he liked it it was his and that was that.

“I mean, Marvel movies are better, obviously-”

“Obviously,” Logan agreed.

“But DC comics are pretty good.”

“As long as you don’t count Superman, I’ll agree with you.”

Virgil gave his friend an amused look. “What’s wrong with Superman?”

“He’s-” Logan grimaced. “Everything about him is just so… flames. On the side of my face. See-Seething fire.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“He has no flaws. He can fly faster than a bullet, he has superhuman strength, x-ray vision, lasers come out of his eyes, he can heal very quickly, he has superhuman breath, superhuman stamina, he’s invulnerable and he has superhuman vision! And these are merely the ones I can recall off the top of my head!” Logan's hands flapped around him and each word was aggressively punctuated.

A coy smile appeared on Virgil’s face. He loved watching Logan get passionate about something. It was fairly easy to set him off and once you did, it was a bit like watching an interesting nature documentary.

“If he had moral struggles he might be somewhat compelling, but he doesn’t even have that. It’s all truth, justice, and the American way.” His tone had adopted a somewhat mocking edge to it, especially as he said “the American way.” “He’s a horrible character.”

“What about Kryptonite?”

Virgil admittedly had only said that to see Logan’s head explode and explode it did.

“Kryptonite is the most bullshit thing in the entirety of literature and I’m including sparkling vampires.”

Virgil burst out laughing. For a moment, Logan simply blinked at him, face going a very warm brown before a large smile broke out over his face and he joined in.

“I did it!”

Virgil had been taking a drink from the sprite they had grabbed earlier and it took a moment for him to realize exactly what Logan was talking about. He smiled.

“An ollie?”

“Yes!” Logan’s excitement was contagious enough that Virgil felt his heart rate pick up- although that might’ve been because of the adorable grin on the boy's face. “Hold on.”

He went to do it again and ended up tripping over himself. The grin faded into a pout. “I had gotten this,” Logan muttered. “Hold on.”

He placed his back foot in the middle of the tail and his front foot in the middle of the deck, slightly closer to the top bolts. In the same movement, Logan snapped the tail on the ground so the board was going up at an incline and jumped. Virgil watched with no small amount of pride as Logan rolled his foot up to the nose of the board, forcing it back to the ground, and landed perfectly so each foot covered the bolts.

“There!” That adorable smile re-lit up his face and it grew all the more when Logan saw Virgil nodding. “I got it!”

“Well done!” Virgil beamed back at him. “Having taught you, I take 50% of the credit.”

Logan nodded (which had not been the reaction Virgil had expected) and jumped off of the board. Before Virgil could really react, black arms looped around Virgil’s head, and Logan crushed Virgil into the tightest hug Virgil had ever experienced.

Virgil froze. Slowly, he reached his arms around and reciprocated it, even if all he could think about was how close Logan was at the moment, how he could feel his breath on his neck, the bones of his back, and the plastic of his binder.

He wondered if he wasn’t hugging Logan close enough. Or maybe too close. Or maybe-

It’s a hug. Calm down.

But what if he was hugging wrong?

Then Logan pulled back, and it was far too soon and all Virgil wanted to do was pull him back into his arms, and god he looked adorable smiling at him, still elated from being able to get that trick down and-

“Can I kiss you?”

Virgil hadn’t even realized the words had come out of his mouth until Logan’s smile fell slightly.

Fuck, fuck fuck-

The smile came back full force.

“Yes,” Logan said simply.

Virgil leaned forward and their lips met and it was like fireworks had burst between them. Every part of Virgil’s body tingled and he wasn’t thinking about whether he was doing it wrong but the feel of Logan’s mouth against his and how silky Logan’s hair was to the touch.

They broke apart and Virgil just stared at him, stared at this beautiful, beautiful boy, and was suddenly really glad for the moment months ago when he had failed to land an early grab finger flip and sent the board rolling into the boy on the bench.

#analogical #analogicalweek #virgil-x-logan #virgil sanders #logan sanders #transphobia tw #skateboard

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celestialinent · 4 years ago

Text

someday it will fit just right

on ao3

In 2 years, Steve would spend his first night truly hungry. In 5 years, he would stand in a cold little cemetery and bury his mother. In 8 years, he would deliver food to the silent Barnes family as they sat shiva. In 11 years, he would go into a tiny metal box and come out a freak. In 14 years, he would die.

But on April 17th, 1931, Steve Rogers woke up to Sarah Rogers singing in her clear voice, thrilled to celebrate her only son’s 13th birthday.

He and Fiona stumbled out from behind the thick curtain that cut the little nook at the far side of the flat where he slept. There were boxty and eggs on the table, and Ma wasn’t even tired, because she had three days off all in a row. He was still young enough not to question the luck. He wasn’t aware that Sarah had begged and traded with the other nurses to get the days, promising to work shifts no one wanted, knowing it would hurt their purse at the end of the month and doing it anyway to make her boy happy.

“Stiofán,” she greeted him, and Steve smiled. She only called him by his Irish name when she was in the best moods, and as he got older and the trouble he got up to got more bloody, that name was used less and less.

Fiona always slept as a cougar, because her furry bulk was the best thing to keep him warm in their drafty flat, but she usually changed before they even got out of bed. Big cats might be good for keeping little boys with dicky lungs, but they weren’t so good for navigating the tight space of the Rogers’s home. She didn’t change this morning, however.

Steve sent her a frown, even as he sidestepped her to get to the table.

Aodhan, perched on a rickety wooden chair to Sarah’s left, watched the pair with his intelligent brown eyes.

“How’s my wee man?” Sarah asked when Steve had sat. Fiona came to rest next to him, her big head almost as high as his. “Any big plans for today?”

Steve blushed. “Bucky and I were gonna go to the park,” he answered. But they’d planned that ages ago, before Ma had gotten the days off. And they were really only going because Bucky had heard from Teddy Russo that Theresa and Dot Bianchi would be there with their older sister Valentina. Bucky was absolutely dizzy for just about every girl in the Bianchi family.

To be honest, Bucky was dizzy for all the girls. He was 14 this year, and apparently, his Uncle Isaac had told Bucky that that was the age that “everything started to make sense” with girls. Whatever in the Sam-Hell that meant.

“We don’t have to, though,” Steve said. And he meant it. Spending a few hours watching Bucky watching dames didn’t sound like any fun, and it was his birthday, so if he told Bucky he wanted to do something else he wouldn’t be sore at him. “Bucky could just bring the girls over and we could play games or something.”

Even if Steve didn’t think spending his 13th birthday with Bucky’s little sisters was the best way to celebrate he wouldn’t want to exclude them. Bucky hated dragging Becca and Judy and Rachel along when they went places, but Steve thought the girls were just swell. He’d never had a sister or a brother, and never would most likely, so the novelty was nice.

Steve’s Ma just smiled. “No, no. You and Bucky should go. Bein’ thirteen is important, a leanbh . Before we know it you’ll be old and won’t get to spend all your time with Bucky Barnes.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Bucky and me’ll always spend time together, Ma,” he promised. “We’re friends forever.”

What was meant to be a reassurance, however, seemed to kill his Ma’s grin. She sent him a soft, sad look before tucking into breakfast. “I hope so, Stiofán. But don’t think you won’t get old.”

“I’m only thirteen, Ma!” Steve protested. Fiona leaned her head against his side sympathetically, and the weight of her sent him listing to the side for a moment.

“Fi, stoppit!” he giggled. “Why’re you so big?”

Fiona, looking contrite, seemed to shiver in her skin like she always did when she was trying to change shape. But instead of bursting into the air as a pigeon, or scurrying up his arm as a squirrel, she remained solidly feline and solidly big. Steve frowned, tipping his head forward to peer at her.

Aodhan and Ma both laughed. Steve turned a sharp, worried look to his mother.

“What?” he asked. Turning back, he said, “Fi, what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, a leanbh ,” Ma breathed. “What did I say?”

Fiona giggled. “I can’t! Stevie!”

It took Steve a bit too long to understand the situation, but when he did he turned an incredulous stare on Fiona. “You settled so big ,” he laughed.

“Bit inconvenient,” Aodhan muttered behind his shaggy russet mustache, but he was grinning his doggy grin, as overjoyed as Sarah was.

“The size of a daemon doesn’t depend on the size of the person,” Ma reminded him. Steve knew that. He knew that Mr. Tonks, hulking as he was, had a little rabbit daemon, and everyone in the world knew that Marlene Dietrich’s daemon was a honking big bear, something the newspapers always thought was real funny.

“Boys at school are gonna have a field day,” Steve told her anyway. Nobody but Bucky seemed to understand why Steve walked around with a mountain lion for a daemon most of the time. Now that she’d settled, he could just imagine how they’d tease.

“The boys at school are silly little idiots,” Aodhan grumbled.

That sent Fiona and Steve into a fit of giggles that carried them through breakfast.

***

He’d been right about the boys at school.

When words got around that Steve’s daemon had settled, Tommy Wies came over to him at lunch as asked him if he thought it was funny that his daemon was four times the size of him.

Miriam, lounging at Bucky’s feet as a german shepherd, snarled at him, and Tommy laughed it off but he didn’t say another word to Steve all day. Unfortunately, Bucky couldn’t be around forever, and after last period, when Steve was gathering his papers from arithmetic, Bobby and Tony Gottardo ambled over.

The three of them exchanged some words, and it all ended with Bucky finding Steve getting his lights knocked out of him in front of the school. Fiona was snapping and yowling at the Gottardo’s daemons, and Bucky had to wade in and break the fight up with a solid-looking kick to Tony’s keister.

“God, some of these eye-talians really are dumb,” Bucky huffed after the boys had beat feet down the sidewalk. “How many times I gotta lay them out flat before they leave well enough alone?”

Steve sent Bucky a dark look. “You didn’t lay anyone out, Buck. Tony and Bobby are just babies.”

Bucky scoffed. “Maybe not that time, but last time, I made Bobby bleed so bad I just about called a doctor so’s I didn’t have to go on the lam.”

Fiona snorted. “You did no such thing,” she told him imperiously.

Miriam perked up. “If you asked Bobby, he just about got murdered in that fight.”

The four of them ambled their way back home, About halfway to Bucky’s flat, where they were stashing their school stuff and cleaning up before heading over to the park-Steve couldn’t very well go home now, not with a bloody nose-Miriam turned to Steve and Fiona and eyed them.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

It was crystal what she was asking. Miriam, even though Bucky was a year older, still hadn’t settled.

Fiona shrugged her big furry shoulders. “Boring, but nice. Feels right, like a pair of shoes that I’ve had few ages, so they fit real good. But I think I’ll miss flying.”

“Shoulda settled as a big bird,” Bucky laughed. “A bald eagle, or something. Or a hawk, to go with that big nose.”

Steve shoved at Bucky playfully. “Well, then Miriam should settle as a pig, to go with your nose.”

Bucky, vainer than Steve by a mile, reeled back, patting at his nose like he was checking that it was still as perfect as ever. He scowled when that sent Steve laughing.

“Fi shoulda been an elephant, to match your ears!”

“Miriam could settle as a beaver so you could have matching buck teeth,” Steve shot back, still laughing.

Bucky huffed, but Steve knew he wasn’t that sore.

They spent the rest of the walk joking and fooling around, and when they barrelled into the Barnes flat, Bucky had Steve under his arm, mussing up his hair with his knuckles.

Mrs. Barnes started fussing as soon as she saw Steve’s face, but luckily she didn’t threaten to tell his Ma, trusting that Steve wouldn’t hide it from her. She did make him sit at the dining room table, though, and allow her to clean him up a little. She didn’t have his Ma’s practice at nursing, but she’d raised Bucky, and the frequency with which her son was being pulled into scraps meant she was no slouch. Amos chittered the entire time, scolding them all for fighting just like he always did. The boys and their daemons ignored him, as they always did.

“The only thing I have to give you for your birthday is some advice, Steven,” Mrs. Barnes said lightly. “Stay out of trouble!”

Steve offered her a beatific smile, the smile he offered to teachers and shopkeepers and Mrs. Barnes whenever he was trying to pretend he wasn’t an absolute scoundrel. It drove Bucky up the walls; he called it his saintly smirk. “I try, Mrs. Barnes. Trouble just always seems to find me!”

Mrs. Barnes and Amos hmmphed in unison, and Bucky snorted.

“Bucky, I expect you back home in time for supper. It might be Steven’s birthday, but you still have school tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ma,” Bucky and Steve chorused. She scowled and shooed them out of the house.

Steve shook his head. “She didn’t even notice Fiona’s settled,” he scoffed. “Guess Steve Rogers walking around with a puma for a daemon is just common sense to her.”

“Sure it is, pal,” Bucky drawled easily. “You may be short, but you’re just about the loudest guy I know. You’re bigger inside than out, is all. You ain’t no mouse.”

“What do you think you’ll settle as?” Fiona asked Miriam, who’d taken Fiona’s new size as an opportunity to be lazy, and shifted into a strange little lizard, riding on her back. She had the air of a haughty little queen that way, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the smug little lizard smile she was sporting.

Miriam was quiet for a moment as she and Bucky shared a thoughtful look.

“A dog, probably,” Bucky answered first. “Most folks have dog daemons.”

Fiona shook her head. “You’re not most.”

Steve blushed a little at that. Bucky wasn’t most folks. Bucky was brave and handsome and kind and strong. Bucky talked a big game about how Steve was bigger on the inside, but honestly, Steve thought Bucky’s beautiful outside matched his insides. It was no wonder that all the girls at school had started taking real long looks at Steve’s best friend. There was something about the air around Bucky when he got real excited about a new song. When he laughed it was like his whole face opened up and you could see the damn sun shining out his eyes.

Miriam would settle as something even grander than a mountain lion. She’d be a real noble bird, maybe, because of Bucky’s sharp eyes, or a peacock cause of how nice his face was. Or maybe a wolf, like James Connolly had had.

“A horse, maybe,” Miriam said.

It was funny, because Steve couldn’t see that at all. Miriam had never been a horse in her life. Hell, none of them had ever seen a horse in their lives. But Steve was picturing Bucky astride a huge destrier, dressed like a knight, and it made him laugh so hard he almost gave himself an asthma attack. “You are a real horse’s ass,” he gasped.

“Maybe I’ll be something real strange,” Bucky said, and he was still smiling, but it looked pained. “Something odd, that’ll scare off anyone tryin’ to give us a hard time.”

Miriam shivered, shifting rapidly. She was a spider first, fearsome and black, before she draped over Fiona’s back as a big brown snake. It was followed by a strange hairless cat, a blind and eerie bat. Finally, Miriam clambered to Fiona’s rump, a brown little thing with huge, luminous golden eyes. Her small triangle ears sat at the sides of her head like horns, and a long tail that curled over her chest.

Steve blinked. “What are you?” he asked. Miriam only stared up at him.

“So one in a book of daemons once. Like a monkey, sorta. Strange, right?” Bucky murmured.

“She’s beautiful, Buck,” Steve assured him. “Very beautiful.”

Bucky shrugged and picked up his pace like he was eager to see the Bianchi sisters. Like the discussion was unimportant.

Steve felt distinctly that he’d missed something in the exchange, and Bucky was disappointed in him.

#steve rogers #stucky #steve/bucky #daemons #daemon au #my fic

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romancandlemagazine · 3 years ago

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An Interview with Alexander Wolfe, the man behind Pedestrian Magazine

Pedestrian is a magazine about the humble art of walking. In this interview, I talked with the man with the plan, Alexander Wolfe, about his love for this much maligned form of transport, his recent expedition from New York to Philadelphia, and the art of conversation.

First off, you recently walked from New York City to Philadelphia over nine days. What made you want to do that?

The initial desire to walk to Philadelphia came out living in New York City during the pandemic. I was bound to my apartment for a few months with little to do but walk around my neighborhood. I've always had a habit of walking around the city, but the pandemic only made these walks longer and longer, which eventually led to a 23 mile journey from my apartment in Brooklyn, to the Bronx, and back.

Around that time I was reading The Roads to Sata by Alan Booth and started contemplating longer, multi-day walks. I needed a change of scenery and found the idea of traveling by foot and living out of a bag very appealing. I felt like I'd developed a process here in the city (go on a walk, take photos, write a newsletter about the walk, repeat) and needed to give myself a challenge. I wanted to lean further into this practice that I've been developing for the last three years.

I'd never considered my walks to be hikes, so it made sense that I'd keep it in an urban setting. Walking to Philadelphia seemed like a no-brainer. What most people don't initially realize is that most of my time was spent walking through New Jersey. I liked the idea of walking in a place that is commonly misrepresented as the "armpit of America" and typically deemed unwalkable. New Jersey is actually a very underrated state. It might be the densest state population-wise, but it's called the Garden State for a reason. Oh yeah, I'd never been to Philadelphia and just really wanted to visit.

How did the walk go? Quite often trips or excursions can be a fair bit different to how you first imagine them… how did the reality of the walk differ from how you thought it was going to be?

I was presented with a new challenge every day. Don't get me wrong, the walk turned out better than I could have ever imagined, but you can never anticipate everything in advance. This was the first time I'd ever walked with a 25 pound bag on my back, let alone the first time I'd walked 9 days in a row. Originally I set out to average 17.75 miles per day, but thanks to my own curiosity, ended up waking 20 miles a day on average. I mapped the entire route a month or two before leaving, but would always deviate from the path in favor of exploring some neighborhood, road, or park that looked appealing. The first day alone ballooned into 27 miles because I got cocky and thought I didn't need to use my map while walking in Manhattan. I learned my lesson and kept my eyes on the map for the rest of the trip.

Another thing I didn't expect was the sensitivity one develops after walking 6-8 hours for days in a row. The smell of exhaust and gasoline becomes more potent. You realize how violently we've shaped the land to build huge highways and abysmal business parks. So much of our infrastructure is built in favor of the car, which makes being a pedestrian incredibly difficult at times. If the built environment didn't present a challenge, it was always the weather, the gnarly blisters on my feet, or my gear malfunctioning. I quickly learned to accept these challenges. It was just another component of the walk.

A lot of times people go for ‘a walk’, they’re seeking out beauty spots or nice scenery—maybe in nature reserves or the countryside, but your walk was cutting through some fairly overlooked places… industrial estates and small towns. Do people miss out by not seeing the whole picture of somewhere? Is just driving through these places to get to the destination sort of cheating?

I wouldn't consider driving to be cheating – it's just another way we alienate ourselves from the world around us. When we drive, we experience the world at a speed that makes it nearly impossible to pay attention to the fine details. Our relationship to place is abstracted, especially thanks to the rise of GPS. We no longer have to have a physical relationship to these towns. We don't even have to remember how to get to them. Driving around in a car reduces these places to nothing more than a label on a map or a convenient place to stop for gas.

It's important to have relationships with the places surrounding you. The walk has given me an intimate experience with the space between New York City and Philadelphia. I know what it looks like, I know how it feels to be there. I can tell you where residents stop hanging New York Yankees flags in favor of Philadelphia Phillies flags. If I'm watching the Soprano's and Tony references Metuchen, NJ then I know exactly what he's talking about. I think to understand a place, such as New York City, it's just as important to understand the places around it. There are generations of people who once called the Big Apple home, but decided to plant their roots in Jersey for one reason or another.

I suppose you could have read about some of these places on Wikipedia, but being there is a completely different thing. Is experiencing stuff first hand important?

It's very important if you actually want to understand a place. It's too easy to create our own narratives without ever visiting a place. I still tried to do my share of research before heading out. I have friends from North Jersey or the Philadelphia Metro and tried to take their opinions with a grain of salt. I spent some time reading about certain towns along the way on Wikipedia or scanned Reddit to get a vibe. I even previewed chunks of the walk on Google Street View to mentally prepare and know if it was actually safe to walk near some of these roads. I could have spent months preparing, but it never would actually replace walking in these small towns and cities. It's so much different when you're on the ground.

I suppose the main reason we’re talking is that you make a magazine based around the idea of walking. How long have you been making Pedestrian? What started it off?

I released the first issue of Pedestrian back in March of 2018. I was living in Ridgewood, Queens at the time and made friends with a guy named Curtis Merkel (I actually met him while out on a walk). He ran a moving business for a few decades and retired. At 84 years old he opened up a tiny little bookshop to keep himself busy. I'd visit him every weekend to check out his books and eventually we'd just get to talking. He'd lived in Ridgewood his entire life and loved to talk about the neighborhood's history. Moving to NYC also introduced me to a thriving community of zine makers. I wanted to share these conversations I'd had with Curtis in print form, so I decided to start a magazine. I invited a few friends to contribute and the rest was history.

Since then, the identity of Pedestrian has become quite fluid. While it started as a magazine, I would now describe Pedestrian as my own practice. It's a platform that allows me to collaborate with others, produce magazines, write newsletters, go on these long multi-day walks, and produce t-shirts. I have found this configuration gives me the most creative freedom.

A lot of your magazine is about meeting people and striking up conversations. Is this a lost art these days?

I don't know if it's a lost art per se, but there's less incentive to reach out and talk with strangers these days. Thanks to the rise of social media it's just getting easier and easier to stay within our own "bubbles." Starting Pedestrian, in a way, was an excuse for me to speak with those I typically wouldn't reach. It's amazing how having a publication kind of takes the fear out of speaking with strangers. You can do anything when you have intention.

Although walking is something most people do, is it overlooked as an activity? It seems it’s mostly seen as an inconvenience, rather than a hobby in itself.

It depends where you live. In New York City, for example, walking is a part of the culture. The city is built in such a way that makes walking a viable means of transportation. And if you can't walk to your destination, you're likely walking to a subway or a bus. Where I'm from in Iowa, walking is very inconvenient. Everything is spaced out, which makes walking anywhere very difficult. It’s not that people don’t want to walk, it’s just the way we’ve built certain communities has made it very hard to enjoy. It makes people think walking is very inconvenient.

I’m here in Iowa until August and it’s been interesting to walk a place that is so reliant on cars. The other day I did a 13.5 walk around the city. There’s nothing here stopping you from walking (unless the heat gets you. Technically we’re in the middle of a drought. It’s been incredibly hot as of late), and there’s plenty of sidewalk. I think it’s mostly just a mindset people have to develop. It doesn’t matter how many miles you walk, it’s just about getting out there. Your mental health will thank you and you might even learn something new about your surroundings along the way.

Walking is maybe the antithesis to the internet, but Pedestrian also has a decent presence on the World Wide Web, and you regularly send newsletters and... er... partake in the digital world. How do you balance the real world with the matrix?

It’s a relationship I’m constantly reevaluating. I’m not a master of balancing the two yet, but I’m slowly building habits that will protect my time. I often daydream of abandoning social media altogether and picking up a flip phone. I obviously haven’t done that yet, so in the meantime, I’m investing a lot of time in my newsletter. Sending out a newsletter is a much more thoughtful, intimate, and slow experience...kind of like the way I approach my walks out in the world. I understand that the web is a tool and I’m not sure the Philly walk would have gotten the same amount of attention had I not had an Instagram account. It’s cliche, but everything in moderation, right? I try not to take it so seriously.

What next for Pedestrian?

The Philly walk was such a great success and I’d like to keep that momentum going. Later in September I have another big, big walk planned, but I have yet to announce the route. Look for an announcement sometime next month. This one will be a bit longer and involve 3 different cities. I can’t wait.

Once winter hits I’m going to buckle down and produce a proper book for the Philly walk that will include all my writing and photos I took along the journey. I’m already excited to share the finished product with the world. Stay tuned.

Final question, what are your walking shoes of choice? And what's your soundtrack? Are earphones advised for long walks, or do you prefer the ambient sounds of the streets?

I’m a big fan of Hoka Clifton’s. I wore them throughout the entire Philly walk and have two pairs in my closet. At this point, Hoka should probably pay me for how much business I send their way. I’m always recommending them.

I prefer not to wear headphones and just listen to the ambient sounds of the street. More often than not, I find wearing headphones to be a bit distracting and it takes me out of the present moment. Although, I’ll admit I have been trying to introduce music into my walking once again, but few tracks make the cut. Lately Andrew Wasylyk’s Last Sunbeams of Childhood has been on repeat. There’s something about that track...

Find out more about Pedestrian here. Pedestrian is available in the UK courtesy of Central Library.

#Interviews

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argumentl · 4 years ago

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The Freedom of Expression Ep 18 - Baseball with Mercedes Benz logo used by Chiba Lotte Marines.

K: This is Dir en grey's Kaoru with The Freedom of Expression. This program started...how many years ago was it now? 3 or 4 years ago?...on InterFM, asking questions about freedom of expession...with this theme we talked about current news stories each time. From there, we have moved over to Youtube. There are maybe times when we talk about stuff that isn't really related to expression though..

J: There are.

T: Yeh.

K: I just wanna enjoy talking sometimes.

J: This program has a wide scope.

K: Yeah. Well, today, I mean, on the day of this broadcast, its the opening of the professional baseball season.

J: Oh, June 19th?

K: Yeh. At the point in time of recording this, we don't know exactly what will happen, but..at last baseball is gonna start.

T: And that means...? Kaoru?

K: And that means?

J: And that means?

K: What do you mean?

T: Your beloved Hanshin Tigers!

J: Oh, yeah, his Hanshin Tigers. How will your beloved Hanshin do this year?

K: Oh, they will win by a mile!

J, T: *laugh*

J: *laughing* We shouldn't laugh!

K: Hahaha

J: We really shouldn't laugh! We're so rude!

T: Its because he said straight away, 'by a mile!'.

J: Tell us your rationale for saying that, for saying they'll win by a mile.

K: Well...they're strong.

J: You could say that about anyone! *laughs*

K, T: *laugh*

J: Saying, 'They're that strong'...Yakult fans could say the same.

T: I'd just like to ask again, since when have you been a fan of the Tigers? Since when were you first aware of the Tigers?

K: How old was I?...I think I was probably in the lower grades of elementary school. As far back as I can remember really. My Dad played baseball in a non-professional team. So he had his uniform, and glove, and bat, and stuff in our house. I used to play with him, and he took me to watch games. My first time was at Nishinomiya stadium, I think...the Hankyu Braves. And after that, I wanted to see a game at Koshien.

J: Ehh, really? Oh, so you were going to stadiums from quite a young age?

K: Yeah.

T: How did it feel going Koshien and places back then?

K: It was kinda scary. There was a load of scary looking people there.

T: Scary looking people? *laughs*

K: Like really drunk people, and stuff.

J:Oh, all the hecklers.

K: The staduims didn't look as smart as they do now.

J: Ohh, of course.

K: They were kind of grubby.

J: So about Hanshin doing really well this year, they'll definitely win today's game? Where are they playing today?

T: Today is..

K: Against the Giants, right?

T: Yeah, the Giants.

K: At Tokyo Dome.

T: Their nemesis, the Giants.

J: The legendary fued between the Giants and the Tigers, right?

K: Well, yeah. For the opening match, Tokyo Dome is a bit hard going though.

J: I thought you just said they were gonna win by a mile?!

K: Hahaha.

J: Already thats not the case!

T: He's suprisingly calm about it, right?

K: No, its just that at the moment, Tokyo Dome carries some not so good memories. I've been to watch them there many times.

T: Oh, right.

K: I don't have very good memories of it.

J: Is it bad?'

T: They'll be starting about now, at 18:00, won't they?

K: They will be, yeh.

J: Don't we upload this at 19:00?

K: Yeh, yeh.

T: Ahh. Oh, they'll be just about finishing the third round or so?

K: Ahh.

J: I see.

K: But they'll probably be hitting ???(バコバコ)*1. They might still be on the second round.

J, T, K: Hahaha.

J: Well, its good to think about it in a positive way.

K: Yeh, yeh, yeh.

J: What are the thoughts of our so called sports journalist about Hanshin's chances this year? *gestures to Tasai*

T: Well, as for me, Hanshin are..I was talking to my wife about this before, and despite being a really popular team, in reality, they rarely win.

K: Yes.

J: Oh, is that right?

K: They never win.

T: Yeh, yeh, yeh

K: They're weak, to start with.

J, T: Haha

K: I even imagine them as a weak team.

T: Yeah.

J: I see. So its not like they are famous for being a strong team like the Giants?

K: The Giants are invincible.

J: Well, yeah.

K: Its like they have to be strong.

J: Yeh, yeh.

K: Hanshin are like...even though they're weak, you like them, haha.

J: Hahaha.

T: So people used to say, Dame Tora!/ No good Tigers!' at one point and stuff. But, what is it? The mentality of Osaka people?

K: Well, even if they loose, it doesn't hurt very deeply.

J: Ahh, right. Unlike Giants fans, who would be hurt at even a small loss. Hanshin fans don't have such a weak heart?

K: We don't.

J: Ahh, amazing.

T: Its incredible, thier popularity. They are more popular than the Giants.

K: Yeh

T: The Sports newspapers down there, if they have like 8 or so pages, 4 or 5 pages will be dedicated to Hanshin.

J: Oh, that much?!

T: They even cover the minor team at Naruouhama, with their results and a comment.

K: The minor team is really well recieved, and everyone gets really carried away with it.

J: Hahaha.

T: Yeh, yeh, yeh.

J: Isn't that the reason they never get that strong?

K: Well, in the end, yes.

T: Hahaha. No, but they are talked about, even as the minor team.

J:Ehh

K: And with all these fans, theres kind of a supporters' association, and everyone gets full of themself.

T: Hahaha.

J: Oh, really? Kami is listening silently though. I wonder what he thinks. Don't gods know much about baseball?

Kami: No, no, I've been listening the whole time. But Hanshin are quite strong, aren't they? I mean, they are not the best in Japan, but don't they often win? The league win?

K, T: No..

K: They don't.

T: Once in 1985, and once in 2000, that time with Lotte in the Japan series, and once at the time they changed over from Nomura san to Hoshino san.

K: Yeah, league wins.

T: Its only been about 3 or 4 times hasn't it?

Kami: When you say weak...well, they have gotten stronger recently, but I always think of the BayStars as the weakest.

T: Yeah, Yokohama never win either.

Kami: I didn't think Hanshin were that weak.

K: Well, overall, they are getting better. Like, thier average..the gap is closing.

T: Well, Hiroshima won three times in a row. The Central league is sort of bunched up like that. The Giants are just ahead.

J: Just a bit, right. Ahh, it exciting isnt it? How far will Hanshin get this year?! They'll win?

K: Of course.

J: They will win.

T: Should we make a promise to do something if they win?

K: If they win?

T: If they win...or if they don't win? But, they will definitely win, right?

K: Hmm.. *Everyone laughs*

J: Hang on a second, you started by saying they will win by a mile, and now 'Hmm..'. You're saying 'Hmm..' for 5 minutes.

K: Its because I don't know what will happen.

T: Well, yeah. You don't know whats gonna happen.

K: Well, its cause its an irregular season.

J: Well, of course.,

T: Yeah.

K: Cause its a tight schedule.

J: Oh, because its tight?

K: There are no inter-league games, and no All Star games. Im not sure how the climax will go.

Kami: Lets do something if they win.

J: Oh, yeh, if they win.

Kami: If they win.

K: If Hanshin win?

Kami: Yeh, if we did that, we'd be all looking forward, supporting Hashin.

K: Well, ok, if Hanshin win let's do an event on this program.

J, T: Oh!

J: What kind of event?

K: Well, im not sure, it would have to be next year, and I don't know if we could have guests, but lets do something like that.

J:Oh!

K: In that way everyone would be supporting right?

T: Yeah.

J: Shall we do a 'The Freedom of Expression' event?

T: "In celebration of the Hanshin Tigers' win!"

K: Im not sure we need such a crown.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Well, anyhow, we'll do an event.

K:Yeh.

J: I think we've created the motivation for people to support Hanshin with this.

T: Yes, its turned out well.

K: Like a live broadcast or something?

J: Oh, that would be good. Thats a good idea.

K: Well, ok, this isn't what we're supposed to be talking about today.

T: It wasn't supposed to be about Hanshin, was it?

J: Well, as today is the opening of the baseball season, let me share a piece of news concerning professional baseball.

This is the news that Lotte are using a baseball which features the Mercedes Benz logo. Manager Iguchi says, the Marines are at the top too! In the first game of this season at their main stadium, the Zozo Marines Stadium, the ball they use will have Mercedes Benz Japan's (thier sponsor's) logo printed onto it. This comes to fruition as a result of thier manager Iguchi being a big Merecdes Benz fan. Iguchi said to his team on the 8th, 'Since I started playing professional baseball at age 22, up until now over 20 years later, I've always driven a Mercedes Benz. Just as these cars are admired from around the world, I want the Marines to reach the top this season.'

K: Yeah.

T: Its great, isn't it.

J: Eh, Tasai san, have you seen it?

T: I saw it earlier. Its stamped on about the size of a seal.

J: Is it small?

T: Well, its like 'Benz!'

K: I kinda want one.

T: Yeh, its cool, right?

J: So, it doesn't cause any obstacle when grasping the ball?

T: No, it doesn't. Its just the Benz logo.

J: I see. So its not like it catches on your fingers and effects your throw?

T: Well, I wonder..

K: It doesn't! It would be a problem if it did.

J: It would be problematic, right? But conversely, if you pay money, you can have this type of thing engraved on the ball. What do you think, Kaoru? What if you had the Dir en grey logo put on the ball in one of the Hanshin Tigers' official games?

K: Oh, I'd like that.

T: But I get the feeling that people would want to do that a lot with Hanshin.

J: I wonder how much it costs?

T: Probably a million or so yen. I don't think Mercedes Benz will be the cheapest either.

J: Thats right.

K: But if its on the ball, it won't be seen on TV right?

J: No, it won't.

K: So, you wouldn't even know about it, unless it was pointed out. ???*2 Also, if the guy who gets a home run puts it on SNS or something.

T: Ahh, that would be ideal.

J: It would normally be plastered all over the fences of the stadium, wouldn't it?

K: Yeah, in the stadium.

J: But its kinda fresh, to put in on the balls.

T: Yeah, its cool.

K: On the balls?

J, T: *laugh*

K: ???

J: No, no, no. *laughing* ????

T: Joe san! Don't soil baseball like that! Its an untainted sport!

J:???*3

T: Yeah *laughs*, so you are tainting it!

J: No, but I really wanna put a Dir en grey logo, or a Tora no ana logo on one Hanshin's baseballs.

T: That would be good.

K: Noo, its impossible.

J: But didn't you do a collaboration with them before?

K: Oh, well that was just like an announcement, but this is totally a sponsor.

J: Well, yeah..right.

K: Right?..The amount of money..

J: Totally different right.

K: Yeah, its on a totally different scale.

J: Well, but I imagine professional baseball players seem tacky to Mercedes Benz.

K: Like a thugs or something.

J: Why do I think that, I wonder? Although they're all the same athletes, soccer players don't give off the same atmosphere to me.

K: But even soccer players seem like they are a bit artificial. They suddenly start dressing up, wearing brand clothes..

T: Yeah.

K: They get off planes, dressed up all smart and stuff.

J: They do, yeah.

T: But that might be the influence of Kazu (Kazoyoshi Miura) or Takeda san since they got into the J League.

J: For some reason, if you talk about fashion in the pro-baseball world, I always think of Kuwata san, for example. Also, Shinjo san (Tsuyoshi Shinjo). They have that kind of image. There's not that many..

T: Ahh, right.

J: Like I don't know many with a sense of fashion.

Kami: I think the same! Thats it. They have no fashion sense. They are not cool at all!

T: Thats right.

Kami: They are real sports people. Whatever they wear, thier muscles swell, it looks kinda wierd.

T: Yeh, yeh.

K: Well, yeh.

Kami: But when baseball players or even soccer players wear thier uniform, they look super cool!

J: Absolutely.

T: Ah, I see.

Kami: When they get off airplanes, I want them to wear thier uniforms.

J: Always in thier uniforms.

T: That would be good, yeah.

Kami: They would look so cool!

J: I see.

T: Well, they are professionals, baseball is technical job, they are the ultimate professionals. If you can play baseball, that is everything, I imagine. Thats my follow-up.

J,K: *laugh*

K: Well, today, at this time, the game will still be ongoing.

J: Yes, thats right.

K: I'll be praying for an exciting baseball season.

J: And if Hanshin win?!

K: We'll do an event.

T: Pretty good.

K: Well, we'll finish here for today. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

J, T: Thank you.

*1 バコバコ - Don't know what this means.

*2 Couldn't catch this.

*3 I'm not fluent enough to translate dirty jokes about balls XD Plus Joe is speaking too fast, and there is too much background laughing...thats my other excuse.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #kaoru #薫

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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Birdy (Green Eyes / 2)

Read the first part, Green Eyes, here! :-)

Blurb Synopsis: After finally meeting the mysterious Mr. Styles you subbed for, you take a job at the same school, right across the hall from him. You’re unsure how much longer you can hide your feelings for him as you’ve grown to become best friends.

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, romance, angst, and a little sad.

Warnings: None

Word Count: Nearly 8k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Blackbird by The Beatles (click to listen)

Your desk was covered in Twix wrappers, multicolored gel pens, and empty cans of Coke. The new school year hadn’t even begun, and your desk already looked like a tornado had come by. Not to mention the fact that school started in almost three weeks and you hardly had any classroom books. You kept telling yourself it’s a high school English classroom, not a third-grade classroom. There’s a library down the hall for a reason, but the classroom barren of books drove you nuts. Your desk wasn’t shy to books though, as favorites of Harry had found a home on the dark wood.

Leaves of Grass.

Catcher in the Rye.

The Sun Also Rises.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Walking into your classroom on this sunny morning, the thought makes the smile on your face grow wider. Finally, you can say that you have your own classroom. The sight of the week-old books leaves the smile there on your lips. A laugh dances off of them at the sight of the Roald Dahl book, bringing you back to the memory when you found it there one morning.

You had asked Harry why he included it in the occasional stack of books he loaned to you. He said it’s required reading, because so few people know the movies are based on a book. You’re just wondering when he’s going to slip The Outsiders or Stuart Little under your door next.

The rows of ancient cream desks stare back at you, and you wonder just how you’re going to command a classroom in a few days. Well, seven of them to be exact. Then you try to remind yourself, for the twentieth time, that you’ve done this before. It won’t be so hard, then. Perhaps you’ll even have some past students, and that should help. Right?

You’ve barely gotten a few steps into your classroom, because of the thoughts muddling your mind. Sighing, you slip off your bag to leave on your chair. One that some days you don’t even sit in, because your legs are walking miles around your classroom, setting up. Thumbtacks are scattered across the expanse of your desk, reminding you of the unfinished walls. Before you can think about the posters sitting in the corner, a flash of pink catches your eye. Furrowing your brow, your eyes flit back to the flash of color.

It’s a hot pink Post-It note with messy handwriting in black ink.

Should I get us burgers or subs for the meeting we have today?

PS: You’re officially a teacher now with your own pad of Post-Its ;)

You’re sure that the insane happiness painting your face would look more at home on that of a teenager. Nonetheless, you can’t get rid of it, and you wouldn’t want to. This rings even more true when you see the note is stuck to a copy of Matilda. A warmth blossoms in your chest as you pick it up, running your thumb along the weathered edges. Ones you haven’t touched in ages, it seems. Within seconds you’re stepping into the hallway, thoughts knitting together in your mind. They’re from the love you have deep down for this story, a favorite book, and movie of yours as a child. The elation budding in your mind stops when you find his door closed, just as you had minutes ago. Unable to hide your disappointment, a pout tugs at your lips as you turn around.

“Ya gotta verdict already? Dat was quick,” a voice drawls from behind you. Your pout is a thing of the past, and a grin is making its way to replace it. Spinning around, your summery dress follows your twirling body.

A couple paces away, Harry stands at the top step of the staircase. His trademark brown leather backpack is slung over one shoulder. A black Fleetwood Mac t-shirt hugs his upper half, a black and blue flannel covering his arms. His old skool Vans echo down the hallway as he walks towards you.

“Well, I’ve already read it,” you inform him, observing his content smile turn into a confused one. “A couple of times actually. Once when I was 8, then some other times through the years.”

“Ah, so I got lucky and happened upon a lifetime favourite, have I?” he smirks, only a few steps away now.

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, your growing hair tickling your chin before you move it away. “When are you going to tell me what your favorite book is?”

“When ya finally guess it right,” he quips, stopping in front of you. A dimple falls into his left cheek as he shows off his sparkling teeth. Okay, sir, it is too early in the morning to be looking this attractive.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop being so chipper when it’s only nine in the morning,” you tell him firmly, but it’s all for show. Poking his chest, your finger just hits pure muscle. Swoon.

“Then maybe wake up, already, birdy,” he chirps, the Raybans in his hair moving when his head goes from side to side. Chuckling, he grabs hold of your finger and tries to bite it, but you pull away in time. The mention of the recent pet name slows you down, but you haven’t gotten bitten yet. “Ya betta not fall asleep in today’s meetin’ like ya did last week.”

“I didn’t fall asleep, I was just resting my eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. His amused giggle greets your ears as he unclips his ring of keys from his blue jeans.

“Yes ya did, ya don’t getta lie t’ me, love,” he responds in between laughs, seemingly finding this more amusing than it really is.

“Oh, so John can fall asleep at meetings, but I can’t?” you ask, your voice raising with laughter and faux annoyance.

You watch Harry pluck his sunglasses from his head as you walk into his dark classroom. The streams of sunlight speckle desks and pictures donning his walls. As you flick on the light, the smell of oranges wafts over you again. The red bowl sat upon his desk filled with the citrus makes you feel at home, albeit his mere presence does that without fail.

“No, ya can’t. Sorry, love. I don’t make tha rules ‘round here.”

“Lame,” you sigh, paging through the book mindlessly as you fall into his new chair. He finally splurged and bought a comfy leather one that you steal every chance you can get.

“Want a Bit-O-Honey, honey?” Harry offers, pulling your eyes away from the familiar pictures. Grinning, you take the wrapped candy from his outstretched hand, trying to ignore the pet name. You find it hard to forget as you half look through the book and half watch him peel off his flannel. A sight, indeed.

“Wait, how’d you put this in my room if the door was locked? The other books you sneaked in when I stepped out,” you ask suddenly, working on the piece of hard candy in your mouth.

“I tol’ Marty tha janitor I forgot sumthin’ in yer room.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice even though his back is to you. A broad one at that. When he turns just the slightest to peek at you, you find crinkles around his glimmering eyes.

“Harry!” you scoff, your jaw falling to your chest, although not quite.

“Oh stop it, ya know ya like it.”

Groaning, you cross your arms over your chest in annoyance, but it doesn’t last very long.

“I don’t like all of these meetings,” you complain, throwing your head back onto the headrest. You flip to a page that makes you smile at the sight of cartoon Matilda.

“Get used t’ it, ‘s one o’ tha big differences between bein’ a sub an’ a salaried teacher. Shoulda just stayed a sub then,” he jokes, driving you to pick up a Bit-O-Honey and throw it at his head. Turning away from the things he’s unloading from his backpack, he whines. “Heeey! Watch dat arm o’ yers, ‘s a scary one. Maybe ya should be teachin’ gym class instead.”

“Sports are ew,” you reply, ducking when he throws it back at you. “Harry Styles, you stop it!” you manage in between giggles, finally closing the book.

“Oh ya, and what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it in t’ose heels, huh?” he teases, his hands leaving the pockets of his oversized backpack. “Ya gonna fly over t’ me, li’l birdy?”

Huffing, you set down the book on his neat desk. Placing his hands on his hips, he turns to you and sticks out his tongue.

“Oh, that’s it! You’re going to get it!” you threaten, standing from the chair as his laughter fills the room.

“‘m soooo scared, boohoo,” he teases with a fake sob, his fists mimicking wiping tears from his cheeks. Snickering, he returns to his backpack. “Go hang up yer posters in yer room and leave me be fer once.”

“You’re no fun,” you proclaim with a final whimper. Grabbing the book, you come up from behind him, softly hitting him with it on the shoulder.

“I warned you,” he retorts. Before you know it, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you over to stand in front of him.

“Warned me about what?” you jest, a giggle wedging its way into your sentence as you drop the book onto a desk. You know that you’re getting on his nerves now. It’s the only time you’ve heard his teacher voice come out, but hey, you’re not complaining.

His thick eyebrows above those eyes raise, wrinkling his forehead tan from your days at the beach the last few months. Harry pushing you off a rope swing into the water, him bitching about doing all of the paddling during your canoe trip, not so accidentally drenching your back with water from his paddle, and head dunking competitions while swimming. The tan looks far better on him, you think, as you admire the sun-kissed freckles peppering his face.

“I told ya one time dat yer good at pushin’ me buttons, and here ya are doin’ it. I know I shoulda neva told ya dat,” he mutters, the curls atop his head dancing as his head rocks back and forth. The nervous laughter bubbling inside of you finds its escape, and you know that you’ve done it now. “But I guess ya jus’ don’t listen, do ya, bird?”

You can’t stop yourself, and there you are poking his dimple with your finger. This time, you squeal when it finds its way between his nibbling teeth. His name leaves your lips in a near shout which only grows worse as his fingers dance along your ribs.

“Stop, stop!” you cry out, but with no avail. His other arm comes around your middle to trap you with your back against a desk, despite your squirming. His other fingers dig into your sides before finding the soft flesh of your tummy.

“Stop bloody screamin’, yer gonna make e’rybody think ‘m murderin’ ya or sumthin’,” he titters. You almost give in at the sight of his crinkly eyes and the smile stretching across his face.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I might jus’ hafta find a way t’ shut ya up, my li’l bird,” he coos from above you, a brunette brow raising.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he hums, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your side now.

His bubblegum lips relax, falling into a knowing smirk. The laughs disappear from the both of you as his fingers still, resting on your side. The seconds tick by as your heart hammers in your chest, because his face is closer than it was a second ago. You gulp, suddenly finding the gold flecks in his eyes you didn’t know were there. Or the smattering of tiny freckles along his nose. That all becomes a thought of the past when his lips become the only thing you can think about as they near you. “Shall I?” Harry says in a breathy whisper, and you’re nodding even before his last syllable hits the air.

Your skin feels hot and prickly all over as your eyes fall closed, waiting for what happens next. The very thing you’ve dreamed of since that day you dropped the books in front of him. When he took off his shirt at the beach, revealing his toned chest covered in black tattoos. The charisma and kindness he carried at your very first meeting after you were hired, the beginning of you two being joined at the hip.

His lips are soft when he presses them against yours, and warm. He surrounds your lips with his slowly, as excitement rushes through you. A woodsy smell engulfs you when your nose brushes against his prickly cheek. His lips feel like velvet against yours with the slightest taste of Carmex chapstick. You’re sure he can feel the smile hiding on yours as his top lip fits between yours like a puzzle piece. His thin beard you’ve never seen him without tickles at your skin as your lips mold together. You can still feel the tingle on your lips after he’s pulled away. As well as the one that spreads across your body when those green eyes look into yours.

“See, I was right. It did get you t’ shuddup,” he mumbles, the blissed-out smirk on his face covering every inch of his skin. You’ve seen his nervous smiles and everything in between, but you’re certain you’ve never seen that smile before. Not that your face is any better, because right now it’s a competition between whose smile is bigger. It might just be a tie, and you wish there could be a tie-breaker.

“You should do that more often,” you smile, an uneasy laugh bringing an end to your risky words.

“I think ‘d be happy with dat.”

You try to tell yourself you’re glad his hands didn’t stray to your face, because he would’ve felt the heat of your tomato likened cheeks. There’s no use, because you want them there, but on your sides, as they are is better than nothing. It fills your stomach with multitudes of butterflies just to have your hands on each other.

His hands draw shapes into your back when you wrap him in a hug. The fresh smell of his citrus body wash fills your nose, your skin touching the fabric of his shirt.

“Ya gonna get all soft on me now, are ya?” he whispers above you, his cheek against the side of your head.

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can muster as you find yourself dragging the tips of your fingers along his side.

Raising your head to peek up at him, his eyes drop to you. “Good, I like ya dat way,” he murmurs, running his thumb along the roundness of your cheek. His tongue peeks out of his lips, held between his teeth. “Verdict?” he almost laughs, causing the butterflies inside of you to stir.

“I don’t know. I think I might need um, another sample,” you smirk, watching a corner of his mouth meet his cheek.

“Tha’s fair,” he agrees before dipping to plant another kiss to your lips. His lips are even more decadent a second time, and you quickly realize how addicting this could become. You realize it’s the only addiction you’d be okay with having as the tip of his nose caresses your cheek.

Your lips part with a soft smack, much too soon for your liking. “We should prolly get back t’ work,” Harry snickers, his breath against your face sweet from the caramel candy.

“Yeah,” you agree aloud, much to your dismay. “I’d give it an A, by the way.”

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, quirking his eyebrows in response.

“A long overdue one.”

“‘d say yer right there,” he echos, pinching your cheek between his fingers. Giggling, you pull away as your laughs mix with each other’s.

“Hey, Harry!” a voice calls, sounding far away.

You separate quickly, like two magnets repelling each other. It saddens you, but when a colleague steps into Harry’s classroom a moment later, you’re met with relief as you grab the book off the desk.

“Hi, Trent. Ya ready t’ see who falls asleep first in t’day’s meetin’?” he quips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly leaning against a desk.

“My money’s on John, for sure,” Trent jokes, pressing his red glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh hi, Y/N,” he says, greeting you. You wave with a small ‘hi’ as you stand at the edge of the classroom near the windows uneasily.

“I dunno, my money feels pretty good on her,” Harry teases, pointing a finger at you before winking.

“Whatever. I better go take my nap now that you reminded me,” you return, sauntering out of the room and into the hall.

Out of his presence, the butterflies take flight inside of you. A warmth fills your body all over when you reach the safety of your classroom. Closing the door, you fall against it with happiness jumping from the smile on your lips. Squealing with your hands held to your chest, you soon sigh at the thought of his lips. His lips soon being on yours again, and again, and again.

Exhaling, you step down from the chair and stare at your hard work. Nodding in approval, you straighten the skirt of your patterned mustard dress. The happy face of Anne Frank looks back at you from the enlarged poster of her autobiography. Dragging your feet over to your desk, you plop onto your brown spinny chair, ignoring your heels forgotten on the floor. You bask in the new ambiance of your classroom, feeling the pleasure from the new posters donning your walls.

The Diary of Anne Frank.

Ross from F.R.I.E.N.D.S saying ‘you’re means y-o-u a-r-e.’

The quote, ‘Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not’ - Tyrion Lannister.

A funny grammar poster that makes you feel like an even bigger English nerd.

Frowning, the last poster in the corner sits there begging to be shown off, but you need help with it. After the events of earlier, you’re nervous to approach Harry. A sweet kind of nervousness, but nonetheless it’s there. Huffing, you grab the edge of the desk to pull you closer. Pressing play, the Queen song crawls from your laptop’s speakers, slowly filling the room. Clicking through your open windows, you finally find the unit plan you’ve been working on.

Voices carry down the hallway outside your door, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Squinting, as if it will help your hearing, you then tilt your head to look out your half-opened door. Jackson from the nearby history wing walks by, laughing at something somebody said.

“Dis betta not be a bloody heavy desk, Jack,” somebody responds, amusement laced in their voice.

“Hey, I know that voice,” you softly whisper to yourself, your lips curling at its sound.

“You’re the one who agreed to help me! You can’t get out of helping me bring it in now, Harry!”

You hear the melodic sound of his laugh, perhaps one of your favorite sounds. The butterflies return when you let yourself think about getting to hear it as much as you’d like in these walls. 5 days a week for 9 months out of the year- well, something like that.

A couple seconds later, Harry zooms past your door saying, “Get t’ work!” in a mocking deep voice, winking.

“You!” you shout back, giggling to yourself with hot cheeks. You attempt to return your attention to the document open on your screen. It’s difficult, you find, because the thing consuming your mind is how nice Harry’s bum looked in those jeans.

Chatter pecks at your ears as you swivel in your chair, watching your new colleagues converse around the table. Your new boss laughs with somebody standing at the room’s front by the projector screen. Reaching forward, you pluck another carrot from your plate to nibble on nervously. Once again, you pull out your phone to busy yourself, only making you feel guiltier for not mingling. You’ve already said at least a ‘hi’ to everyone in this room already, and you have the rest of your career to get to know them, you tell yourself. Bouncing your leg, your eyes drift to the clock on the wall. Impatience spreads like a hot wave throughout your limbs, bringing your eyes yet again to the back door to the conference room. When is he going to get here, you guess fervently, counting down the minutes until the meeting starts.

A thud! surprises you when a white paper bag lands on the table in front of you.

“Hmm, I didn’t know ya were a jumpa,” a voice snickers, its owner soon coming into view in front of you. Harry. “Why ya lookin’ like a lost puppy, bird?” he coos, pushing out his bottom lip as he pulls out the chair to your right.

“I’m not,” you retort, continuing to scroll through Instagram, stopping when you see a picture of a Goldendoodle puppy.

“Yes, ya do. What, were ya wonderin’ what’d ya do if I didn’t show? Can’t have ya missin’ yer security blanket now,” he teases, poking you in the ribs with a glint in his eye.

“Stop,” you giggle, placing your phone face down on the table. Sitting up and eyeing the food, you pinch his thigh for good measure.

“Hey, watch those fingas, missy. They keep gettin’ ya into trouble lately,” he warns, tsking as his head goes from side to side. Opening the bag, he pulls out a familiar wrapped burger to hand to you.

“Thank you, I’ll pay you back.”

“Shhhh, ya can pay next time. Sound good?” Harry hums, flitting his eyes to you with an eyebrow raise.

You give him his answer with a nod before taking a bite of the cheeseburger. Your boss starts to tell everybody to find a seat so they can begin the meeting. Out of the corner of your eye, Harry sets a packet of fries in front of you. Shooting him a smile, he returns it as he feeds one between his happy lips. Chairs squeak and whine as they’re moved and sat in around the long table. Somebody nudges your foot, and to no surprise, you find it’s Harry. He holds out a covered paper cup, a red straw poking from the top. A ‘thank you’ is held in your smile and he just nods, slipping off his sunglasses to set down. Your attention is stolen by his fingers raking through his curls to put them back in place.

A thought pops into your head unwarranted, and consumes your attention as the principal speaks. I wonder if this means now I get to run my fingers through those curls, you ponder as you grab a fry. At the most inconvenient time possible, your mind starts to dig around. Doubts soon fill your thoughts, along with questions about what this will be with him. You try to push them away and lock them in a box, but they’ve done their job. Any smile left on your lips is gone now, and you continue to eat your burger quietly.

“Ya eat jus’ like a bird with t’ose li’l bites,” Harry whispers, scooting closer to the table to retrieve the packets of ketchup from the bag.

Turning to look at him, he holds a glowing smile in his eyes for you. His shoe knocks into yours and he leaves it sitting on top of yours. Take that, stupid brain, you announce to your thoughts as you affectionately bump your knee against Harry’s.

Reverting your thoughts to the towering figure speaking at the front of the room, a smile buds on your lips at the feeling of Harry rubbing his knee against yours.

Rubbing your hands across your eyes, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. Tapping the board with your electronic marker that’s a pen, highlighter, and an eraser in one, you drag it in zig zags. The scribbles on the board disappear in a flash. Suddenly, it falls from your hands when you feel a pair of arms surround your waist.

“Hiya, bird,” a voice says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Their warm breath tickles the nape of your neck, and so does the collar of their shirt. Spinning around, you find Harry standing there, a pout forming on his face. The adorable Starry Night tie you bought for him hangs loosely over his cornflower blue button-down. “What, why won’t ya lemme hug you?”

“Harry, anybody could walk in,” you insist, prying his arms from your waist. Bending down, you pick up the pen and place it back in its holder with a click.

“All tha students are gone by now, babe. ‘s half past 3, and any dat are around are at practice. Tha last place they’d wanna be ‘s back t’ a classroom afta their first day o’ school,” he murmurs, wedging his way back into your good graces as he pulls you back into his arms. “I wanted t’ see how me birdy’s first day went. Sooooo, wha’s tha verdict?”

“It was good. A little overwhelming, though,” you hum in return, letting your head fall backward to fit against his cheek.

“It ‘s fer e’rybody, love, so don’t worry. It’ll get betta, jus’ hang in there. Tha first month ‘s nothin’, that’s tha honeymoon period befo’ e’rythin’ goes wild.” His lips brush against your cheek with every word, the feeling of his ticklish stubble something you’re not yet used to.

“Harry!” you scoff, turning your head to find his hairy cheeks creased with a devilish smile behind you.

“‘m kiddin’, well not really, but hey, ya got me t’ help ya through it all. Don’t fret, love,” he tries to assure you, brushing the back of his fingers along your side. “What was yer favourite part o’ yer day, hmm?”

“Seeing some familiar students from when I used to sub. It was nice to catch up with them and hear stories,” you reveal, looking down as you cover his hands settled on your tummy with your own.

“Mmm, that’s good. Familiar faces are always nice,” Harry mumbles, the point of his nose dragging along the expanse of your cheek. “Did I tell ya yet ya look really pretty in yer new dress?”

“Yes, you did. About three times, but thank you again.”

“Welcome, bird. I hope no teenage boys are crushin’ on ya now,” he jests, planting a loud kiss on your temple. The remnants of his minty piece of gum cover your face in a silent cloud as he laughs at his own joke.

“Yuck! Oh and like there aren’t dozens of girls fawning over you in your classes?” you chuckle, bringing a whine to his lips when you squirm in his arms. “Put that lip away.”

“Or what? Hmm, what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it? Ya can kiss it away like all tha girls in me classes wanna do, if ya want,” Harry smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you turn around. Lifting a hand from his arm, it lifts to brush back the brown ringlets falling onto his forehead.

“You’re gross sometimes. It makes me wonder how I can kiss that potty mouth.”

“Well ya do, and ya sure seem t’ like it,” he winks, dramatically licking his lips with a loud slurp.

“Stop!” you exclaim, collapsing into laughter, your head returning to his chest. His hands clasp over your back, his thumb brushing your skin through the jade dress you wear. You’re grateful for your face hidden away in his chest for when you feel his lips pepper kisses from your temple to your neck. He leaves your skin tingling from his magical touch, and his growing curls leave a trail down your neck.

“I think dis year’s gonna be a good one,” he coos against your ear, letting his smooth nose brush against its lobe. “I got tha reason right here.”

“Can we do this though?” The words jump from your lips without a chance to catch them and shove them back in their safety.

“Do what, love? Kiss? ‘Course, ya jus’ take yer lips and my lips, and put ‘em togetha’ like dis,” he wisecracks, lifting your head to show you the humor painting his face. Puckering his flushed lips, he closes the space between you to press a peck to your waiting lips. Pulling away, he quirks an eyebrow at you in silent questioning.

“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” you continue, your words falling short of the thoughts buzzing around in your skull.

“Then what’d ya mean?”

“Can we, I don’t know . . ,” you begin, but you lose your footing. Leaving his arms regrettably, you almost lose your footing quite literally when he tries to hold on. A sound leaves his lips at your departure, but you try to ignore it. That’s easier said than done, you realize as you fight with yourself, wondering if you should say that word or not. “Date . . as colleagues?”

They they are, free to the wind. It feels like coming home and your heavy book bag leaving your shoulders, although this time it’s far less trivial. The similarity doesn’t ease your anxious mind as you stop in front of your desk, fingering at the note that greeted you this morning. A pink Post-It note smattered with his sometimes unreadable handwriting, resting on top of a box of novels he gifted to you for your classroom.

To my favorite teacher - I know you’ve been dreading this day for months, and looking forward to it, too. You’re going to do great. They’re going to love you. You’re not going to mess anything up. You got this, bird. Remember that. Take it easy on yourself. Remember, you have to take care of yourself, so then you can take care of them. You’ll learn from each other too. Just keep remembering pizza at the beach with me tonight to celebrate your first day.

Harry xoxooxoxoxo

“‘Course we can, as long as it doesn’t bleed into our work life. What d’ya mean?” Harry says, trying to inject lightheartedness into his words. You both can hear the failed effect they have, and they only make his words sound sadder.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to like, get in trouble, or something. I just started this job.”

“Oh,” is all he mumbles. Mumbled or not, you hear the finality in his one word. As well as all that it says with that single syllable.

Looking over your shoulder at him, you find the confirmation you needed knitting together his features. “Harry,” you say, turning the rest of your body to face him. He takes a step back, and now you know you’ve done it. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then how’d ya mean it?” he retorts, coolness playing in his voice. He knows he’s done it, too. “Hmmm, bird? Ya only care ‘bout dat part o’ it - if we get caught and what people would think? Only wanna keep me a secret?” His words bite as he spits them into the air. They hit your face with a sting, but nothing compares to how he threw your nickname into the mud. The nickname you love, that happened all because of the first meal you shared together.

“Harry, don’t. You know that’s not what I meant- Y-you’re being ridiculous,” you press, stepping forward. It’s like one step forward and two steps back, because he continues to walk away from you. Quickly, your hands grow shaky as the feeling consumes the rest of your body.

“No, I know what ya meant. Or ‘s there mo’ ya want t’ say? Want t’ say dat ‘Oh, ‘s too risky, so maybe we shouldn’t do dis anymo’, even tho’ it makes us happy,’” Harry persists, his right hand lifting in question, before it falls with a slap to his thigh.

“We never even said what this was,” you try to say, but before you get any further, you know you’re just making it worse. You know that he’ll read into your words incorrectly and assume the worst, despite your true meaning. At the realization, your heart pounds harder in your chest. The look on his face like you just slapped him tells you all you need to know. “Harry, wait.”

“No, yer right. We neva said what dis was, but apparently ‘s nuthin’ worth labelin’ or takin’ risks fer,” he grumbles. His head falls with a spiteful smile, but when it lifts again something shatters in your chest. With wet eyes, he continues in a croaky voice, “Then why’d ya take tha job knowin’ I was mad ‘bout ya?”

Your lips wobble with his name dangling from them. When you try to walk over to him, you’re only two steps in when he holds a hand up. “No, don’t. ‘m glad ya told me early on. ‘m happy I didn’t already start fallin’ fer ya or anythin’. That’d be real shitty, wouldn’t it?” he wheezes, a strange smile tugging at his lips dealing failed sarcasm. Sniffling, a tear falls down his tanned skin and he brushes it away. With a shake of his head, he turns to walk out of the door. You know that you shouldn’t, but you let him, because you know you have to.

Collapsing at your desk, your head falls into your hands. Tears splash into your palms as your chest shakes, wondering just how you turned the best first day into the worst first day.

You know that a note won’t be there, but you continue to wish as your heels clack down the halls of lockers. You know that you’ll see his face no matter how hard you try to avoid him, and that it’ll hurt more than you thought it would. Although you prepared yourself, unlocking the door to your classroom and finding no notes from him hurts more than you suspected. The hurt only stings worse when you pass each other in the halls with your students trailing behind, eyes falling away instantly. The spark in the air is lost when he huffs, passing you on the way to the vending machine in the lounge, leaving as soon as he came. Although the hurt grew as the attacks came and went, nothing could prepare you for the absence of his notes that week. That was an eventuality you had dreaded thinking of since the day you found the first one, back in his classroom.

You tried at the very least, albeit an understatement. Notes dropped into his mailbox went unanswered, as well as texts and phone calls. Even the bag of Bit O Honeys failed at their messages of apology. A few times you thought about trudging into his classroom after the bell rang, and hashing it out. Each time you mustered just enough courage to do so, a staff meeting got in the way. Or, within 5 minutes of the bell, his door was locked and he was gone. Speaking of staff meetings, you suffered even worse at those. No longer was he your security blanket at your side, because he no longer saved you a seat. Slowly, the young and pretty visual arts teacher grew to get on your nerves as you watched her be a little too nice to him. He didn’t entertain her taunts and turn to you with a smirk to rub it in your face. No, he was a good guy, and you had to go and ruin it, or what was becoming of it.

He ignored you - at staff meetings, in the copy room, in the staff lounge, in the halls, when both of your classes were in the library - basically everywhere and anywhere. It was an understatement to say you suffered because of it. You had to buddy up with Jen, the poetry teacher. She took the brunt of your questions, whether technology-related or English related. You became fast friends, but unlike the easiness with Harry, you quickly felt you were a nuisance. That was something he never made you feel like, well, until now that is.

You made the mistake of getting your hopes up when you found a bag of Bit O Honeys in your mailbox one morning. That is until the white note on it told you in his writing to stop plugging his box with them. Instead, you tossed them on the counter in the staff lounge to share, never wanting to see those yellow and red wrappers again. Quickly, what you thought had become your dream job morphed into a nightmare. His face filled your thoughts day after day, and it especially distracted you when your mind chose the tear-stricken memory. It bled into your lectures and although it stung less when you saw him, without fail every day, it was messing with your mind. It didn’t help when you were beginning a unit on Romeo and Juliet and a student joked you could play Juliet and Mr. Styles could play Romeo, quite literally.

You had been staying after school every day to finish lesson plans, grade tests, reflect on teaching, and plan for the next day. The October chill that arrived this week only made you want to stay in your cozy classroom with the Autumn decorations you hung up. Soon, it would be Halloween and costumes would fill the halls. The thought pours memories into your mind, but a particular one sours the enjoyment for you. The memory of planning a matching costume with Harry. Jay and Daisy from The Great Gatbsy, like the English teacher nerds you are. Were.

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you reach for your water bottle. A groan finds its way past your lips when you pick it up, only to find it's empty. Standing with it in your hands, you cross the room to your door. After a few steps into the hallway, your movements freeze at the sight of his open door. Biting back any hesitations, your hand shakes when it presses against the wood.

Something thrilling washes over you when you find his head bent over his desk. His left hand covered with varying rings props his head up as he marks the page with his favorite red pen. A Micron pen, but only you would know that. Pausing, he fiddles with the tan braces strapping his shoulders clad in a handsome white and gray checkered button-down. Words stick together inside of your mouth, and when you hear the click of your shoe, regret surges inside of you.

“I made a mistake,” you say, testing the waters, although you know they’re stormy. Clearing your throat, you hope the subsequent ones will come out louder and stronger, before he can stop you. Your galloping heart jumps when he lifts his head to look at you, a question painting his face. “I fucked up, and I could never say how sorry I am. I said the wrong things, and I didn’t mean them that way- that’s not the point . . . I miss you, Harry. You’re all I think about, even when I’m thinking of other things, or when I’m teaching. That’s how I know it’s bad, because even though it’s only been a month, it still hurts like it was yesterday,” your voice screeches to a halt. You take one step at a time as he watches you.

A curl tickles his bearded cheek, making you want to tuck it back into place, but you can’t. A crumb from a chip sits on his chin, making you want to brush it away, but you know you can’t. And neither can you whisk away the worry lines forming around his eyes.

“I need you, not just to help me figure out how to use a projector or what a conjunction is again. But I need to tell you about the good parts of my day, and even the bad parts. Because even though we haven’t talked for like a month, my mind still goes to you when something good happens, or even bad. Even my students tease that we should be together, so that says something,” you try your hand at joking, but he turns his attention back to his desk. “Harry, please. I’m sorry,” you plead with him, tears catching the last of your words.

“Sorry doesn’t jus’ make it all go away, bird,” he returns cooly. His head lifts ever so slightly, only to fall. As if he changed his mind a few seconds into a decision.

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll buy you Bit-O-Honeys for the rest of your life, grade your papers, check your mailbox, or buy the next meals for a month. Anything.” The apologies run off of your lips, but he doesn’t say anything, nor do his actions. An exhale whooshes over your pursed lips as your nails dig into your clenched palms. Defeat covers your body as you turn to leave.

“None o’ dat takes away what ya said,” he announces painfully, the new fabric of his chair squeaking with his movements.

“I know,” you say automatically, a battle waging its way inside of you of whether to look at him. As if his words laced with hurt didn’t already leave you breathless. “So tell me what I have to do.”

“I can’t do dat, bird. Ya should know,” he sighs, clucking his tongue in disbelief.

Your eyes fall shut and your jaw clenches in anger, but the sweet smell of oranges brings you back to the moment. “I’m sorry that I made it seem like it wasn’t worth being with you, because it was, and I realized that even more after . . what happened. I’m sorry that it didn’t seem like I was dedicated enough, but I want to be a- I want to show you that I can be, and I want to be that to you. I’m sorry that I care too much about what other people think, because I only care what you think. It’s ripped me apart lately knowing that you hate me, and how you can’t even be around me, and . . ,” your string of words breaks off, stolen away by your onset of tears. They rumble through your chest with tremors, and the embarrassment brings your hands to your face streaked with them.

The howling of the wind hugs the windows, masking any other sounds. If there were, you can’t hear them, but you do feel something. His fingers wrapping around yours, pulling your hands away from your face.

“Ya gonna stop now befo’ ya make me cry too?” he hums, one corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With raised eyebrows, they pose the question to you. Nodding fast with hiccups stealing your words, he kneads your hands between his own. “Are ya gonna shuddup or am I gonna hafta make you?” Harry softly laughs.

“You’re going to have to make me,” you return, stumbling over your sobbed words.

“Good, was hopin’ ya’d say dat.”

Smirking playfully, he steps forward to cup your face in his hands. The callused tips of his fingers make quick work of the tears staining your face, as well as his lips. “Don’t cry, and don’t ever say dat I hate you,” he coos in between pecks to your wet skin singing with his kisses. “Don’t want me pretty birdy t’ cry no mo’.”

“Your bird doesn’t want to cry and be sad, and miss you anymore,” you whimper, trying to hold it all in, but it comes pouring out.

“Baby bird,” he pouts sadly, his rose lips round and extended. His brow presses into a sad line as the same emotion carries his words. “Lemme make it all betta.”

Nodding, you hiccup again as you cover his hands with yours. His subsequent smile warms your insides cold and aching from the long days without him. His lips bring a respite when they touch yours, ending the harsh drought. Kissing him back, you revel in the feeling of his unkempt scratchy beard against your face. Just one more thing you missed. Severing the kiss, you mumble an ‘I’m sorry’ against his chapped lips.

“Shhh, ‘s okay, love. I know ya are,” he tells you before bringing his lips back against yours. They move together slowly, welcoming the return of the other.

Your mouth falls to envelope his bottom lip in between yours, his facial hair feathery against your mouth. Hungrily, you kiss him and savor his familiar taste and smell. Fingers drifting to his hair, they return home to his buttery curls. His lips pull away only to plant another kiss against your mouth. Too soon, he breaks the kiss with a breathy laugh against your lips.

“My goodness, lemme breathe, love.”

“Sorry . . I missed you.”

“Ya sure did, bird. Think I missed ya a li’l more, though,” Harry chuckles as your hands fall from his locks. His thumb steals the last hint of a tear from under your eye. The amusement creasing his features disappears swiftly. “‘m sorry too, y’know. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have put meself over yer job. It wasn’t fair o’ me t’ do dat. D’ya think I can have those Bit-O-Honeys back, or were ya serious ‘bout buyin’ me a lifetime supply?”

Groaning, you playfully shove at his chest, only to have him wrap you up in his arms. “I guess I was serious.”

“Hmm, ya don’t sound too serious ‘bout it, bird. But that’s okay, I got all tha honey I need right here,” he replies, planting a kiss atop your head nuzzled into his neck, swaying you back and forth. Nodding, you finally let yourself relax for the first time in weeks at the greeting of his sweet smell. One that feels like home to you. “Wait, yer students said we should be togetha? That’s funny, cuz so did mine.”

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lilyharvord · 4 years ago

Text

Song of the Pheonix Part 8

Hey guys, sorry this took so long to get out. It was super hard to find time to write this lately. Also I was having a hard time connecting plot points. I think I finally got this set up though. It's a little shorter than all the previous chapters, but it gets the important work done. The support for this fic is so uplifting! You can also find it on AO3, and any kudos and comments there are super helpful!

AO3 Link

Find the rest of the parts here:

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7

Enjoy!

(/Coriane/)

It’s surprisingly cold when the sun begins to rise. Doria snores softly in her chair, while I sit huddled in my mass of blankets. For two nights I’ve sat like this, watching my jailor nod off in the early morning. If I wanted to escape, that would be the time to do it. To combat the cold I could take a blanket, and I’d slowly been stashing away little bits of food that was brought to me. I had enough for maybe two days if I rationed it. I can’t leave without Mare though. At least, I feel like I shouldn’t leave without her. Would we even make it out of the hundreds of miles of plains to return to Ascendant? I don’t even know which direction the city is in, let alone how we’ll climb a mountain to get to it. And if she’s in the same state I remembered, I would have to carry her. I know for a fact that I’m not strong enough to do that. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there though.

Doria snorts and then shakes awake, drawing me out of my thoughts. Her bleary eyes blink into focus as she searches the tent wildly for me. When she finally sees me, almost hiding underneath my pile of blankets, she rubs at her eye with her palm. “Need coffee.” She grumbles before rising from the chair. I watch her pull her hair into a messy tie before asking, “Can I have some?”

Her eyes narrow until she says, “Get up.”

I push the blankets off of me and stand. She looks me over, and her lips curl as she takes in the same robe I’ve worn for three days now. Tapping her point finger to her thumb, she says, “Stay here.” She pushes the flap aside, only to pause and look over her shoulder once more. “Try to leave, and you won’t make it passed the third row of tents.”

“Why would I try and run through hundreds of miles of plains dressed like this?” I grumble as I sit on the vanity stool. Doria’s brow raises at my tone, only for her lips to curl up in a smirk as she leaves the tent.

Outside of the tent, the sounds of the early risers preparing for the day begin. Guards grumble as they switch shifts, alerting each other to potential obstacles. I strain my ears, hoping to catch a hint of Mare’s location. No one discusses her though. Squeezing the loose fabric of my robe in my fists, I try to wait patiently. I doubt Doria will bring me anything back, but I can hope. Coffee does sound nice, regardless of where I’m getting it from.

The tent flap opens, startling me, and Doria enters before stepping aside to reveal Proteus. Raising my chin as he lets the flap close behind him, I say, “You are not coffee.”

He chuckles, completely in control of his expression now. He looks me over before saying, “They’re scouring the mountain for you and Barrow. I have half a mind to leave two animal carcasses for them to find.”

My blood runs cold, imagining what that could do. Blood would run down the mountain in waterfalls if he does that. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I whisper, “Don’t. You’ll have to send more men and women to die if you do that.”

His expression hardens, and he closes the space between us to say, “You don’t know the first thing about what my people would do for their goal.” “Show me, let me try to help you. My son—“

“Your son is a middle rung on a ladder. He forfeited his right to sway anyone’s decision when he abdicated.” Proteus waves my words away with his hand. “I can get more out of killing you and Barrow than I can from trading you.”

My stomach rolls, and I spot Doria finger the knife on her belt behind him. My fingers twitch in my lap and I breathe, “Please. You can achieve more than you think through negotiations.” I would sing if I could, but Proteus avoids my eyes contact expertly. I should have never told him how to prevent me from singing. Beating myself over that mistake won’t help me now though. Besides, if I sing him into a stupor, I’ll have to figure out some other way to handle Doria. I can’t sing to them both.

He keeps his eyes on the floor as he says, “There is no negotiating with Montfort.”

“They’ve been in negotiations with the Lakelands for years now… with Norta, with Piedmont. They can be negotiated with!” I shout as I rise to my feet. Doria takes a step forward and I glare at her, and the song comes before I even mean to release it. “Leave.”

She freezes, her expression going slack as her eyes glaze over. Raising my chin, I sing to her again. “Leave us, he can handle—“

Proteus’s hand closes over my mouth, while his arm wraps around my middle. His fist presses into my diaphragm until the air leaves my body is a pathetic wheeze. Doria stumbles backwards, reaching up to grab her temple as Proteus throws me into the corner of the tent. My head hits the ground so hard my teeth rattle. I try to rise to my hands a knees in a daze, certain that this is now the only chance I will have to escape.

A wave of water hits me though, and I choke as it surrounds my head in a cocoon. I reach up with desperate hands, and try to claw at it. It simply rushes past my fingers though. Through the swirling froth, I can make out Proteus, who sweeps his hand in small circles, controlling the orb of water.

He’s a nymph.

My vision begins to tunnel as I drop my hands. My lungs burn for air, and through the wisps of my hair ripped from their braid by the force of the water, I can see Doria urging Proteus on. Her eyes are murderous and I don’t need to guess why. I made her weak for a moment, and if Proteus doesn’t finish me here, she will do it.

I open my mouth when I can’t take it anymore. Water rushes in and I fall forward, my vision going dark. The cocoon collapses and I swallow gulps of air, coughing on the remnants of the water as I do so. Doria’s muffled cries of surprise and fury echo on the edge of my vision. When I crane my neck from the ground, I spot Proteus leaving the tent, his expression pale and his hands shaking. Doria chases after him, leaving me alone in a puddle of mud.

(///)

The blankets do little to warm me after my near brush with death. But Doria and Proteus do not come back. I’m sure they left a new guard outside my tent. I’m willing to risk it though. Scrambling to gather my food in a little makeshift bag I made from the blankets, I try to make a plan. I was never a strategist, but Tibe used to try to tell me about his battle plans when we were first married. I try to channel him in this moment, thinking about what he would think about.

I edge toward the tent flap and curling a finger around it, I lift it just enough to look out. There are no guards, only a few children playing with a ball outside. They giggle and shout as they chase after it, kicking up dirt as they do so.

My heart pounds in my chest and I step out into the sunlight. Already I can feel my hair drying under the burning sun. I waste no time scurrying past the children and toward the center of camp. Maybe that will surprise them. After all, who would be dumb enough to escape through the center of camp? I hope that I’m thinking this through correctly. I doubt it, but if this is my one shot at escaping, so be it.

My next step is to find Mare. The fact that no one has tried to stop me makes me bold, and I pause for longer periods of time to try and locate the Shed where they took her.

I’m listening in on two women washing sheets when a cold hand grabs my arm from behind.

“You do have a death wish.”

I try to throw a punch, but Proteus catches it easily. Spinning me so my back is to his chest, he pins my arms to my sides and says, “But you do have the makings of a decent spy.”

“Let me go!” I spit at him, trying to stamp my heel on his foot. He simply turns it out to side, avoiding easily. I throw my head back to catch his nose in response, but he tilts his head to the side, and ends up with his nose buried in my neck. I tense at the feeling as he breathes against my skin.

“Not a chance. You and I have things to discuss.”

He drags me out of the camp then, passed the tents until we’re standing under the shade of a dying tree. He finally releases me so that I can spin away. Panting for breath, I stalk around him in a circle, trying to look imposing. He raises a brow at my posturing and then chuckles at it.

That makes me pause, and choke, “are you laughing at me?” 

“You’re worse than a child. Did no one teach you how to fight?” He laughs when my face falls slack, and steps forward to grab my wrist again. Pressing his thumb into the tiny bones of my wrist he drags me close to him so he can whisper to me. “You’re going to help me end this war with Montfort. Whether you like it or not.”

I struggle against his hold, fury boiling in my stomach. It’s iced over by fear though when he says, “Do as I say, or I’ll find a nice hole to bury Mare Barrow in.”

“Why not bury me and use her?” I spit. His brows draw together then, and his eyes look me over for a moment.

“The Premier of Montfort wants all the Living Dead she can get her hands on. Barrow may be important to a number of people, but she’s not important to that snake of a woman. You are.”

I strain against his hold, desperate to put some distance between the two of us. I had underestimated how handsome he was the first time I saw him. My traitorous eyes want to observe him, compare him to other men I remember. It doesn’t help that he smells like lavender and something else, something earthy and clean.

“Where is she?” I manage to get out when I stop pulling against him. He drops my wrist and I stumble backwards and land on my back in the dirt. He stands over me, blocking the sun for the most part. I glare until he huffs.

“Will you stop struggling if I take you to her?”

I squint, wondering if I should even trust him. He did cut my bonds, and instead of killing me like Doria obviously wanted him to, he dragged me out here. I definitely don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, not that that would be very far. But do I have any other choice?

“Show me her.”

(/////)

The shed truly is a shed. It’s made of a few beaten up pieces of tin, and stands alone in a field. It’s a lonely, horrible place. And Mare is locked up inside. The heat is enough out here to make me sweat walking the few steps from the transport. I can’t imagine the temperatures inside that metal box.

The guards standing outside it, straighten from their slumped positions as Proteus approaches. He waves away their respectful salutes. They share worried glances before one of them reports, “she’s been quiet all day. Not a peep from her.”

“Good.” He says before steps up to the lock. The guard closest to the door waves a hand over it. It clicks and falls open with a rusted creak that I can feel in my bones. I wouldn’t have been able to get her out if even if I had escaped from the village. I didn’t have the strength to deal with the guards, and I would have needed a magnetron to open the door. I would have done all the work to get here, just to hit a road block at the finish line.

As the door swings open, a wave of sweltering air washes over my face. It’s hot enough in there to cook an egg in the dirt. Ignoring it, I hurry past Proteus to do a quick sweep of the room. Are they giving her water? Has she already died of heat exhaustion? It's shadowy in here, but I can feel the heat pressing in on me from all sides. I imagine when the door closes it's very similar to suffocating.

Mare’s huddled form in the corner draws me like a beacon. I drop to her side, cringing at the silent stone net before throwing it off. Proteus doesn’t bother to stop me as I roll Mare onto her back and whisper to her. “Mare? Mare are you awake?” She doesn't respond, and my heart beats faster in response. "Wake up Mare, show me you're alive."

Her skin is flushed like she has a horrible sun burn, and she’s soaked in sweat. A low groan escapes her, and I glare at Proteus over my shoulder even though relief washes over me. “Get her some water.”

He shrugs at my demand. “Promise to help me end Montfort.”

“Get her some water.” I grind the words out through my teeth. I’ve never been so furious in my life. Even in Norta we had never treated political prisoners like this. This was barbaric and inhuman. “Get her water and cool towel.”

Proteus doesn’t move. It’s a stalemate then. Hissing under my breath, I turn back to Mare. Gently pulling her hair back from her face, I start to tame it into a ponytail of sorts to get it off her neck. “It’s alright,” I coo to her as she groans again. Her skin boils under my hands. Not good. I know a dangerous fever when I see it.

My robe is much thinner than the heavy duty clothes she is still wearing. I make up my mind quickly. Stripping her of her shirt I wring it out as best I can. Even though my entire body recoils at what I’m doing, I carefully exchange it for the top of my robe. The shirt immediately sticks to my skin, and I want to be sick.

I swallow the bile, before going for her pants. We’re roughly the same size, but I’ll need a belt to keep the pants on. “Relax,” I whisper to her as I put myself between her and Proteus, trying to give her a sense of privacy. She probably couldn’t care less about it right now, but I won’t let that happen. Underneath my hands her skin feels slick like butter. I can barely get her clothes off. They stick to her like a second skin. She was in here for days. How is she not dead yet? I can't imagine being put through this.

Once I’m wearing her clothes, and I’ve adjusted enough to the feeling of them on my skin, I slide my robe on her. “Everything’s going to be okay.” My words a pathetic and they probably dont come close to comforting. Does she know that I might have to leave her in here again?

She groans again, and grabs my wrist in a grip that is so weak my stomach flutters. I shush her softly before looking at Proteus again. “Get her water and I’ll do what you need.”

“Swear your loyalty to my cause.”

“Are you really going to split hairs right now? She’s dying.”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing she doesn’t deserve. She’s killed more of mine than her life could repay a hundred times over.”

“<em>Get her water now</em>.” I sing it this time. His eyes glaze over, and he snaps to attention to complete the order. But the song wears off quickly. I’m too close to the silent stone, and its effects are washing over me as they radiate out.

He stumbles back and grabs at his temple. With a glower in my direction, he says, “Stop doing that.” “<em>Get her water.</em>” I sing it again, determined to push beyond the nauseating effects of the silent stone. He turns his eyes away from me though and my words are just a pretty melody that bounces off him. The guards arrive at the entrance after hearing the commotion I'm causing.

I throw myself to my feet and rush him, repeating the song over and over again. He catches me and pins me to the wall by my throat, making the tin rattle. I wheeze and claw at his wrist in response. I feel like a feral cat that has been caught. I'll gouge his eyes out if have to if it means I can get Mare out of this place.

Grimacing at the headache I’ve probably given him by trying to hammer my will home over and over again, he catches my wrist with his other hand. “I’ll take her back to the camp if you swear your loyalty to me, right here, right now. Does that appease you?” He pants in my face. I can’t get a breath of air passed his fingers to reply with words. Can I agree to this? If I do, will I be betraying the people who took me in initially?

But Mare is going to die in this horrid place if I leave her here. I won’t put her blood on my hands.

Nodding, I crane my neck to gasp for air. “Get her out.”

He drops me to the floor and turns to the guards with an order to bring Mare to the transport. They blanch at him, and try to argue but his next words are sharp and biting. They leap to action, rushing for Mare who has fallen silent again.

On the ground, I massage my throat and try to get air to my aching lungs. I watch them pick Mare up though. Her eyes, which are finally open, fall to me. I can’t even muster a smile for her, or another reassuring word. I have a horrible feeling I’ve just tied myself to a group that will use me as a shield against the people I actually trust. Have I doomed her and me? Probably. But she's alive, and she's out of here. Maybe we can come up with a plan together now. Relief washes over me as they carry her out into the sunlight. Proteus looks down at me with a condescending eye as I glower up at him.

"There may be a soldier in you yet." He breathes before grabbing my arm and dragging me to my feet. I have no idea what he's talking about, but I'm exhausted from using my ability so much in such a short time and I willingly let him drag me out to the transport too.

#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #mare barrow #coriane jacos #song of the phoenix #SotP #song of the phoenix has been on my mind a lot lately #my writing #my fanfics #(((:#all support/comments/likes/kudos/reblogs are appreciated!

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loreweaver-universe · 5 years ago

Photo

AND THAT’S THE EPISODE

NOOOOOO I WANTED SMOOCHES

Seriously, though, that was REALLY good. I was a little worried when I saw Connie that we’d have some real relationship drama and maybe end on a sour note, but, no, they’re fine--Steven just needed a little push and she was right there to catch him.

No kidding, the Stevonnie segment is one of my favorite sequences in the entire show. I just went and rewatched it a couple times. That was SO good. I’d go so far as to say it was perfect--a perfect moment showcasing Steven and Connie’s relationship, with body language perfectly communicating how Stevonnie truly feels about themselves and Steven and Connie about each other. That self-hug as they skate, eyes closed, just letting their momentum pull them onwards...man, that was perfect. I know I want smooches as an overt sign of their love for one another, but all you really need is...this.

That alone would elevate this episode pretty high, but the rest of it was good too! The Bismuth/Pearl plotline was very sweet, and Bismuth bucking up Steven was a great moment and a perfect encapsulation of the character.

I loved this episode wholeheartedly. As such, Bismuth Casual comes in at my new #2 for Season 6, between Volleyball and Snow Day, and my new #8 for the series, between The Kindergarten Kid and Last One Out of Beach City. We’ve had a pretty great showing from Future so far, and I hope it continues at this pace.

That’s all the Steven Universe that’s aired thus far, with two more episodes airing this week as far as I’m aware. Therefore, we’re going to do another episode of She-Ra in between Steven Universe episodes; we’ll be doing that Friday and Monday, and then hopefully doing the last four episodes of Steven Universe Future all in a row.

Man. I guess it’s almost over again.

That’s going to be rough.

But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Up next streamwise is going to be more Fire Emblem, either tonight or tomorrow--I’m still deciding if I want to do some tonight. You can check that out live at my Twitch channel, or click here for the full playlist of Fire Emblem streams I’ve done. See you for whatever you tune in next for!

IN OTHER NEWS:

I recently completed a blind playthrough of Hollow Knight on Twitch! You can watch all the Hollow Knight streams I’ve uploaded to Youtube by clicking here, or watch me stream other games live at my Twitch channel!

I recently completed a blind playthrough of Steven Universe: Save the Light on Twitch! You can watch all the Steven Universe streams that I’ve uploaded to Youtube by clicking here!

If you’d like to help me pay my rent, buy me some food, or help with my bills and medicine, please use my direct donation link! If you’d like to support me per liveblog completed every month, please pledge to my Patreon! Becoming a patron not only allows you to vote on what shows I do whenever I choose a new one, but also grants access to the community Minecraft server to $5 patrons or higher!

You should also go pledge to Gio’s Patreon–our Discord server maintenance tech, creator of Rubybot, and community Minecraft server overlord deserves far more than I can afford to pledge to him by myself.

If you’d like more of me and my content:

My Episode Lists master page, where you can find every show and liveblog I’ve done!

My Discord server, where you can come hang out with me and other fans, check out member liveblogs, and join community gaming guilds!

My Twitch channel, where I stream variety games every so often!

My Youtube channel, where you can check out past streams!

My ask blog, where you can send me questions and comments!

My Twitter, where I make announcements about liveblogs and streams!

It’s your kindness and support that lets me do this stuff, and I wouldn’t be where I am without all of you to do it for. Thank you all so much for your support, and for tuning in every episode!

OTHER PEOPLE YOU MAY ENJOY:

I may have been one of the earlier Steven Universe liveblogs, but a whole community of livebloggers has sprung up over the last three years! I linked to a bunch individually for a few wrap-ups, but honestly, this end-slate is already eight billion miles long, so I’m just gonna link to my links page. Click here if you want recommendations of other livebloggers, or other neat people, or webcomics and podcasts that I recommend.

#steven universe #steven universe future #suf #subloggin #bloggin #su172 #su episode 167 #episode wrap up

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lanaisnotwool · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

407 Dollar Cost Averaging Is a Lie

http://moneyripples.com/2020/07/13/407-dollar-cost-averaging-is-a-lie/

Chris Miles, the "Cash Flow Expert and Anti-Financial Advisor," is a leading authority on how to quickly free up and create cash flow for thousands of his clients, entrepreneurs, and others internationally! He’s an author, speaker, and radio host that has been featured in US News, CNN Money, Bankrate, Entrepreneur on Fire, and spoken to thousands getting them fast financial results.

Listen to our Podcast here:

https://www.blogtalkradio.com/moneyripples/2020/06/10/407--dollar-cost-averaging-is-a-lie

Shoot me an email at:

[email protected]

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello, my fellow Ripplers! This is Chris Miles. Your Cash Flow Expert and Anti-Financial Advisor. Hey guys! Welcome you out for a wonderful show. A show that's for you and about you. Those of you that work so hard for your money and you're ready for your money to start working harder for you. Now! You want that freedom. That cash flow. That prosperity. Today! Not a bazillion years from now, but right now. So you can have that life that you love because you work because you want to. Not because you have to. Be with those you love. Doing whatever the heck you want. But see guys, you want more than just your own comfort convenience, because as Ripplers you want to create a ripple effect in the lives of others, because as you prosper, you can help others do the same. You can show up stronger, more confident and relaxed. And you have the resources and the means to bless more lives.

And guys, that's what I'm here to do. And guys, it's not just about showing you how to make more money, right? That giving you money does not solve your problems, but showing you how to prosper, how to understand those principles of prosperity. That is a ripple effect I'm trying to create for you guys. And I appreciate you guys being a part of this movement, creating a ripple effect in your lives, which allows me to create a ripple effect through you too. And we just keep making this world a better place.

Here is a reminder. Check out our website, MoneyRipples.com. There's blogs on there. It's got videos and we've got even, you know, our Beyond Rice & Beans e-book. You can download for free. So check that out.

So today guys, I want to just express some gratitude and teach a very important concept with everything going on. One, I appreciate those of you have been reaching out to me. Especially because just almost every time you guys reach out, it's someone I can actually help. And this is exactly why I kind of came out of retirement again. Right? This is why I never fully retire because you guys give me meaning you guys give me this ability to keep doing more. And yeah, I love doing the infinite banking stuff with you guys too. Like that's amazing. And I love that I can bring something unique and powerful there that even other infinite makers aren't doing. But on top of that, when I get some of you guys that say, Hey, I think we're a perfect fit for you right now to help take our money or do something with the assets we have and make something of it to create passive income. And man, like you guys have been reaching out almost every time.

It's like, yeah, I can serve you and make a massive impact in your life. And it's awesome! So I appreciate you guys that have been reaching out. As a reminder, if you think you're in that position where you say, Hey, I've got at least a hundred thousand sitting around, or maybe I got a ton of equity in this house. Or maybe if you got a lot of depts. And you say, I've got some resource here, but I'm not sure how to make this all work. Shoot me an email. [email protected] and let's check it out. See if there's something you can do in your situation.

But today I want to get into Concept of Dollar Cost Averaging, right? And this is going to be heralded as, dollar crisis energy is going to be already been heralded as the hero for investing, right? I heard this months ago and I've even brought it up again in another podcast episode that we did. About, you know, how a dollar cost averaging is a lie. And I want to go into that and even just emphasize it a little bit deeper because the whole concept in cost dollar cost averaging is, they try to play off the whole buy low sell high. Which by the way, that is a true principle. Like you do want to buy low, sell high, or I shouldn't even say that's true principle. That's more of a strategy than a principle. But overall it does work, right? You do want to buy something at low. And of course you're going to sell it, sell it at a higher price. Right? But here's the thing is that when they tell them a dollar cost, averaging, they say, Hey, the market is going down by more.

Here's the flaw. When the market's going up, what are they telling you? Buy more. Now this is never, Hey, you know what, right now the market's going up. Don't buy anything. Right? That's the fundamental problem is that this is a sales tactic. This sales tactic has been used for you to basically get into the largest Ponzi scheme in the world, which is also known as the stock market. Right? And why do I say it's a Ponzi scheme? Because people say, well, come on there's assets. First off, you really don't have any assets. Yeah. You have shares of a company that already went public. That already made their money off of selling it off. Right? They keep their own shares that just right off of your off, you know, basically they, they they can increase in value too, based on investors and what they're doing.

But essentially you're kind of making more money because more people throwing money into it. Which is also a Ponzi scheme does. People throw money in, right? And you basically get paid from investors money. That's one of the common traits of a Ponzi scheme is that you're not making money because the assets paying you, you're making money because people are throwing money into it. Guess why the stocks go up? Not necessarily because the company's anymore valuable. Because people are throwing money in. Right? Another problem is that, you know, do you really have an asset? The truth is no. I mean, even though you might say, Hey, I got this piece of paper. It says, I have something. You really don't have squat. How you really aren't a very, you're not as significant shareholder in the first place. You think you're a little bit of, money's going to make a difference in that company?

Not at all. You're just gambling with money. You are purely a gambler when you have your money in the stock market. And so I know that's the common thing. And I know it's a sacred cow for a lot of people, but the truth is the stock market is not the place to be. And dollar cost averaging is actually the very concept to also prove that. Hey, here's, let me show you now, those either watching this video, you'll want to watch this right? If you get concepts, you know, you can create images in your mind, this will work. But I have this sheet and I showed this before. In another video. This sheet is the sheet I showed to my clients back in my traditional financial advisor days. Now this was a very useful sheet, especially in Y2K, which is when I came in, right?

Because the market was tanking. Especially 2002. That was the year I came in and that was the biggest losing market. And so we would show people, listen, when the market's going down, you want to buy more. You don't want to stop buying and jump out of the stocks. You want to buy more of this. And so I show this example. So this one, the first there's three different graphs. The first one shows you putting in $200 a month. This shows you just what kind of demographic I was dealing with. Back in those days, you're just throwing in $200 a month and their stock price started at $10, right? Or the mutual fund price start at $10 a share. So at $10 a share, you bought 20 shares because 200 divided by 10 20 shares, right? The goal of this concept is to try and buy as many shares as possible.

And then the, hopefully the price goes up right? Now, the next month you buy it at $12 a share, basically over the course of six months, he goes from 10 to $20. You bought $2 increments per share along the way. In the end, so it's $200 a month. It went from 10 to 12 to 14, to 16, to 18 to 20. Over the six months you bought 85 shares. Now 85 times $20 a share because it jumped, it doubled in price in six months puts you at 1700 bucks. Now here's the concept that I show people and say, look, now if the market was at $10 a share, but then it dropped to $8 the next month, and you're still putting in 200 bucks a month. Then down to five. Then it's set at five for another month. Then went back up to eight. And they only went back up to 10, only broke even.

Now, after doing all of that, you ended up buying 170 shares. You bought double the amount of shares of the one that was going up in price. Why? Because you bought it at a discount, right? Here's the thing. If the value was 1700 bucks, same exact value as the one that doubled in price. So even though the price stayed the same overall, you still made as much money as if it had doubled. Right? In an upward trending market. The last one, the last one of course is the most impressive one I'd show people. And this was a huge seller during Y2K. The last one shows that it started at $10 a share, right? You bought $200 a month or $200 a month. You put $200 to $10 share you buy 20 shares. The next month went down to eight. So now you're buying about 24 shares or 25 shares.

Then it went down to $5. You're like, whew, I just bought now 40 shares. And then it went down to $1 for two months in a row. So basically went down 90%. So you're buying a $1 a share. That means you buy 200 shares in one month, 200 shares again the next month. And then it only recovered up to $4, which means you still bought 50 shares. So in total now instead of 85 or 170 shares, you bought 535 shares. Now time's up by four bucks. You have 2,140, which is over 400 bucks more than the other two examples. And again, like, it's easier to see this on the video. If you're visual, the point is you bought at a discount, right? That's the thing. Here's the problem. Here is the big problem. Because again, if you're going to teach a concept, make sure it works.

Make sure that you're going to actually question what you're teaching here. Because what happens to stock market overall? Which of these three graphs is the stock market over time? Generally speaking right now, it goes up and down all over the place. Generally speaking, the market goes up over time. This is like graph number one. Sure. Doubles in price. But the truth is over time, you're really just buying on an up market. Meaning it gets more and more expensive all the time. You are not buying low. You just keep buying higher and higher. So your money actually buys less and less over time. In the other example. Yeah, sure. It goes down and comes up. Now this might look like the last four months, right? If you go from February to now, June, now these four months, it's done almost exactly this. Like the markets now come back up to where it wasn't about late February as of right now.

Right? So people are getting really excited. They said, see, Chris dollar cost averaging works. I was able to buy it when it got down cheap. When it went down like 30%, you know, when the market went down 30, almost 35%, the low, right. So I bought on sale. So look what happened. It would have been just like the market went up, but no, I've actually bought some for cheap. That's true. But here's the thing, guys. The more likely scenario at least you're looking in the next few years is actually looking closer to graph number three, when the market keeps going down. Sure. Short term, we see this little bounce going up, but guys, just the other day they announced. They announced that the, that we're in a recession. Like it's official. We are in a recession. Why did the market go right back up to where it was?

Doesn't that seem fishy to you? Why is it that, you know, we've had massive unemployment, right? We have, so think of February. February, we just heard about corona virus being out there. Like it was starting to show up a little bit in New York state. But for the most part, it was, there was a Chinese, remember people were calling it the Chinese virus, right? And then people were saying, that's rude! You shouldn't call it Chinese. Like it's not a Chinese virus. Okay. Whatever! It was a virus that we heard, first heard about starting in China. Right? So in February, just four months ago, this was hardly even a topic. It was, it was just like news of something out there. The market was about where it is now. It was even a little bit higher than it is now barely higher. Right? But now we're in a place where there's massive unemployment. People aren't quite going back to work.

Like we had hoped. Now people are starting to go back to work, but there's a lot of people not. Or worse yet. What they didn't put an emphasis on reporting is that, wages didn't go up over the last year. Wages actually went down 0.1%. So even though people haven't been hired back, they're not getting hired back, making more money. And over time you need that to happen. Or we're in big trouble because if wages go down, that's a big issue. So if we're not seeing wages go up and in fact, even they start to go down, sure. You might have a job. If you're not making enough to make ends meet, you start cutting back everything. And that affects all the other companies too. And they all make less money as well. Again, whatever stops money from exchanging is what's happening. Now, the government's trying to artificially boost it up by throwing money at you and at companies and everything else, keep people afloat. Which, cool!

I see that short term making a difference. You know that they're trying to just like a plane that's crashing. They're trying to slow the crash down by saying, Hey, let's put a little parachute on this thing as it's coming to the ground, you know, maybe it won't crash as hard. But it doesn't stop the fact that, for the most part, these are still monies that have to be paid back that are going to cut into future profits. So all this is happening. We're actually in an official recession, but still the market's bounced right back up. This should be concerning to you. Now this could be an opportunity because this could be saying, Hey, at least I made some of these losses back. If you have money in the market, right? At least you could say there's a silver lining. But I can tell you this, is that it makes zero sense for the market to stay up or even go a lot higher than where it is now.

Now some people will say, if Trump gets reelected, maybe it will. But again, we don't know. We don't know what's going to happen. We don't know. At what point will investors say, cool. We just made a bunch of money by, they actually did do this very thing, right? They did this dollar cost averaging, but in a different way. They looked at it from a very short term perspective, getting out short term. Do you think that there are people out there both in, you know, successful investors, right? And that, and now when I talk about investors, there are people that actually buy into companies that are real investors. If you're just gambling in the markets, you're not really investor, you're just gambler, but there are very experienced gamblers out there. I know because I, I taught people to gamble in the markets. I actually taught people how to trade stocks and options at one point for several years.

Here's the thing is that I would be also be telling people like if, if profits coming back up watching for any sign to sell out right away to take out profits. Like if you're doing a swing trade, you know, when you talk about swing trading, short term, hold on to a stock framework from a few days. And they worked for two weeks, right? Not much more than a few months. You're gonna start taking your money out and cashing it out now. And then waiting for things to shift and figure out where the trend is actually going in the market. There's a lot of uncertainty going on. You don't want to be trading on news and things like that. And a lot of news is affecting what's going on in the markets. So guys, there's a lot of reason to sell out of the market right now.

In fact, everything that's talking about buying, it seems a little bit, doesn't it seem a little bit fake to you? Doesn't it seem like it goes against, our actual common sense? And yes, there'll be people out there say Chris, but here's the thing. People are turning off emotion. What they foresee in the future. They see us making this V-shape recovery. They see this and that. Sure they do. But guess what? Even the feds don't even have that optimistic of a view. Maybe, the news and the hype they're trying to use is a great way to make some profits and then take their profits and run while you're left holding the bag. As you watch your money, disappear into oblivion. Do you think that's possible? Here's the real point. Either way, you have no clue what's going on. You are just gambling with your money.

When you keep it in the market, you might try to hold on to it. But here's human nature. Human nature says even when the market is going down, just like you probably did a few months ago and the markets are going down on March. Did you bail out? A good chunk of you? Some of you did. I know cause I talked to some of you, but a good chunk of you, didn't, some of you guys wrote it. You wrote it down 35%. I'm thinking, well, it's got to pop back up. Cause that was ridiculous. Yeah, you're right. That dropped way too fast. Right? It's an unlikely for something to drop that fast and not pop back up a little bit. They even call it a dead cat bounce. You know when there's no reason, it's just because it falls too fast. Just like if it goes up too fast, it has to pop back down.

There has to be balance. Same thing you probably held on to that whole wild ride. Didn't you? If you did, you're going to do it again. I guarantee it. You're going to end up saying, well, it might come back up again. You never know, like, Ooh, that came down pretty fast, but you know, it might come back up. And that's what every person has said in every recession. They said it in Y2K and they watched their retirement money disappear. And then they had to wait for their money to come back. And then when it came back. Almost came back. Then we hit the next recession, the great recession. Right? When they're like, okay, my money's almost there. Oh, I got hit again. And it wasn't till about 2015, 2016 that you finally said great. The money I had in 2000, if you didn't contribute anything to it, right?

You just let it ride. Finally. By about 2016, you said, I got my money back. That's like over 15 years guys, that you're waiting for your money to come back. That is ridiculous. Okay. Now again, I'm not saying you'd go and sell off everything. Again, I'm not going to give you those kinds of recommendations on the air or even off the air necessarily. I just want you to be fully aware of what human nature does, which is human nature does not want to sell when things go down. Human nature wants to hold on and hope that money comes back. Cause they'll, cause you'll always say the lie. You'll still lie to yourself saying, well, I don't lose money until I sell. That's true. And yet that's the very deception that keeps people losing money. Secondly, you think you're buying cheap when you buy it when it goes down. The truth is you don't. Because the best thing you could have done in this example here, right?

Is not keep buying when it goes down. If you actually knew it was, you knew what you're doing in the market, you would wait until it hit $1 a share, Hey, maybe it was even $3 a share. Let's just use that example. Let's just say that you save it for money for three, four months, right? That $200 month, you did not put in the market. But then you said I have 800 bucks now over four months, I'm going to buy a $1 a share. That's the a hundred shares. Even if you didn't do anything else and you just did that. And then maybe you bought the next month. He was like, woo. All right. It's awesome. So you bought no 200 shares. Now you're at a thousand. And then you pocket it 200 bucks. You just left it there. He said, Oh, it's coming back up.

Maybe I'll buy. But maybe I won't. Well, let's just say you did buy. Let's just say you did $4. You bought 50 more shares. That's 1,050 shares. Times four bucks. You're now at $4,200. More than double the little bounce. If you just followed it. Or get really just yeah. More than. Yup! Double. Double of what you would have done. If you just kept buying all the way down. Guys, buy low, sell high. That means you don't buy when it's tanking. You wait until after it's tanked. And everybody says the market's bad. That's when maybe if you're looking to buy in the market, that could be the time. Understand that opportunity happens. When usually people say don't buy this. This is a bad idea. That's usually the best time to buy. When everybody's saying, Hey, stay in the market. It's the best time to be in it.

That's usually the time not to be in it. You know, now there's, there's definitely voices saying, Hey, we don't know what's going on. Here's why the market's going up. Because again, they already factored in everything that's going on right now. They expected this. That's the point guys based on expectations. That means whenever there's weird, crazy news that comes out. There's no, almost no time to react. That's when they're going to buy or sell. So if there's news, that's unexpected, right? Then people buy in the market goes up. When there's news, unexpected, that's bad. Like not just good news, unexpected, but bad news unexpected. Then it goes down. We don't know what the heck is going to happen. This is the thing you are gambling. You have no clue. This is why every financial advisor, and I was taught to say this as a traditional financial advisor was, do you not buy anything?

Right? Like don't, don't try to time the market don't do any of that stuff. Just keep putting money in the market. Blindly. Just keep doing it on a regular basis. Cause you don't have the time, the training or the temperament to understand it. So just keep pulling the money in trust us as advisors, trust us that we'll guide you along the way. Guys. This is how you lose money. This is why middle America is still broke. If you want to be like everybody else and say, man, I haven't really made as much as I had thought I would in the market. And you probably have already been saying this for years. You want to keep doing that? What's the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Guys. I hope you understand that dollar cost averaging. Hell has a half-truth and those are the biggest lies.

The truth is buy low, sell high. The lie is that you should be buying all the time. And remember the market goes up over time anyways. Why would we keep buying what's more expensive? Why don't we want to wait? So like you're deep into a recession before you buy anything? Save up your money, then buy. If you're going to do that philosophy. If you're to trust actually what advisors have been saying. Buy at the bottom. Or buy near the bottom, when everybody's been selling out like crazy. Then maybe, and that's usually takes by the way, at least a year or two before it hits bottom. That's usually the case. It's usually takes at least a few years for you hit bottom. Just like I said, a few months ago, don't think we've hit bottom. Don't think that little dip of 35% was bottom. That was just a test.

The test is, did you win or fail? Did you hang on rationalizing? If you did and you failed. You failed the test cause you will do it again. It will be more costly the second time around. So guys, I hope this is enlightening for you. I hope this opens your eyes and gets you that at least ponder and think about what you're actually doing because there are many, many better ways to be able to create money and create better passive income than just gambling and something that really no one knows what's going to happen. No one knows how it's going to happen. What it's going to look like a wind is going to be. If we had a crystal ball, Awesome! But guess what guys, this is not back to the future. You do not have morning Mcflys, a little book that he bought in the future to be able to gamble and make money. You didn't have that guys. You have day to day. Are you going to gamble your wealth even to the point of possibly losing it all? Or are you going to actually go for something that's certain that's been proven for years and years? That is my challenge to you guys. Again, if you have questions, shoot me an email, [email protected]. I hope we make it a wonderful and prosperous week. And we'll see you later.

#Chris Miles #Anti-financial Advisor #Cash flow #Cash flow Expert #Debts #Entrepreneur #Financial Freedom #Money Ripples

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