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soulwillower · 4 years

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when richie met y/n • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

prologue

requested: idk if your taking requests rn BUTTTT could you do a richie fic that’s like when harry met sally? if you’ve seen it that is 🌟🌟🌟~🤍

warnings: mentions of sexist stuff, bc richie is a dick, mentions of sex, slander of the name sheldon (sorry), talking about the plot of casablanca but you dont rly have to have seen it lol

ok so i know i havent finished tozier but i just recently rewatched this movie and figured i’d write the prologue for this planed series n post it <3

[losers + reader have just graduated college in this. ]

2.3k words

♡

it’s after graduation '92 when y/n y/l/n first meets richard tozier.

the trees are turning red and crusting off the tips of branches, the bitter cold of the university whipping around your car even though it's supposed to be nearing the end of spring. you're sitting awkwardly now, with your window cranked down, eyes glued to the couple at the edge of the sidewalk. they're entagled with each other enough that all you can make out is wild dark and curly hair, a sharp jawline, and the girl’s blonde hair gathered in a fist of the mysterious boy. but you'd notice your friend amanda anywhere, even if her back is turned and face occupied with another’s.

you clear your throat, but they ignore you, the boy whose hands are wrapped around her waist tilting her jaw to kiss her even deeper. "i love you." she whispers. you feel awkward, and roll your eyes. it's still seconds later and so you clear your throat, muttering, "amanda."

she jumps apart from the boy. "oh, hi y/n. um, y/n, this is richie tozier. richie, this is y/n y/l/n."

you lock eyes with the boy, who's got a smirk on his lips as he wipes his mouth. you watch as amanda's lip gloss rubs off his bright red lips, "nice to meet you, y/n."

you nod back at him, antsy to start driving and nervous for some reason. "hi. you want to drive the first shift?"

he laughs slightly, shaking his head as his wild dark curls bounce around. he’s devastatingly handsome, and you’re not surprised amanda loves him so much. he pulls his crewneck's sleeves over his hands and shrugs, "no, you're there already, you can start if that works." you nod, slightly put off, but shrugging it off.

"okay. the back's open." you watch awkwardly as the boy lifts his belongings into the space in your trunk, amanda coming up and hugging his tall, skinny frame. "please call me." she whispers. he nods and you watch from the rearview mirror, "call you as soon as we get there, baby." he says. your friend amanda whines, "oh, please call me from the road. " the boy, richie, cracks a charming grin, "i'll call you before that."

almost gagging, you turn your attention to the radio and fiddle it, waiting for richie and amanda to finish making out against the back of your car.

it's awkward once you start driving, richie tapping his long fingers against his knee as you stare at the road ahead of you. you clear your throat, "i have it all figured out. it's an eighteen hour trip, which breaks down into six shifts of three hours each. or, alternatively, we could break it down by mileage-" but while you're speaking, richie's leaning to fiddle around with a bag in the back. you blink, "er, there's a...there's a map on the... visor that i've marked to show the locations so we can change shifts."

richie barely hums and crunches on something, making you turn to look at him. he lifts his brows, "grapes?"

you lift a brow, "n-no. i don't like to eat between meals." you say, eyes going between him and the road, where he spits out the grape seeds. "alright, y/n. why don't you tell me the story of your life." his sentence makes you do a double-take and you almost laugh.

when he sees your bewildered expression, he shrugs, "we've got eighteen hours to kill before we hit new york."

shaking your head, "the story of my life won't even get us out of chicago." that makes him laugh, a sound that was shockingly unexpected as it cuts through the stale air of your car. a light, excited and shocked laugh that makes you smile as you watch the road, your eyes stealing a glance at the abrupt and disheveled boy lounging in the passenger seat.

it's four hours later, and richie's convinced you to pull into a small diner on the side of the road. "-you're wrong." you shake your head as you enter the lot. "i'm not wrong, he wants her to leave! that's why he puts her on the plane." richie insists. you shake your head, "no, i don't think she wants to stay."you insist. richie rolls his eyes at you, "of course she wants to stay. wouldn't you rather be with humphrey bogart than the other guy?"

you shrug, "i don't want to spend the rest of my life in casablanca married to a man who runs a bar. i probably sound very snobbish to you, but i don't.”

richie looks shocked and annoyed, slamming the car door shut to catch up to you as you walk towards the front doors. "you'd rather be in a passionless marriage." you nod, "well, yeah, and be the first lady of czechoslovakia."

"really? that rather than live with the man you've had the greatest sex of your life with, and just because he owns a bar and that is all he does."

you glare at him, "ingrid bergman is sensible, okay? that's why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie. she knows better, just like i do."

as a waitress takes you to a booth, richie hums behind you with amusement laced into his voice. "ohh, okay. okay. i understand now." you look at him, "what?" but he shakes his head. "nothing." "tell me." "no. forget about it." "forget about what? tell me." you insist. richie's pushing up his glasses and staring at the menu, grinning. "it's not important." "-just tell me!" you hiss. richie pushes his menu down and looks at you cockily. "obviously you haven't had great sex yet."

you blink, staring at him in shock. this stranger, who you met hours ago, is telling you that you haven't had good sex yet? you scowl, "yes i have." you snap.

he laughs, looking at the menu still. "no you haven't."

you accidentally project your next words loudly, "it just so happens that i have had plenty of good sex."

it goes silent at the diner, all the eyes on you. the waiters and workers stare, the other patrons watching with wide eyes as richie just grins at you. you feel yourself go red with embarrassment. what is it about this kid that gets you so mad?

richie seems unphased. "well, with who?" he asks. you mutter, "whom." to correct him, and so he folds his hands and tries again, "with whom are you having this fantastic sex?" "i'm not telling you that." "fine, don't tell me." richie says with a shrug, reading over the menu once again. you study his face, the light smirk that seems to be plastered onto his lips permanently; the freckles over his cheeks, forehead and nose. something about him makes you feel like you have to prove yourself. "shel gordon." you say after a moment.

"shel? sheldon?" he asks, eyes dark blue as they lock with yours. he laughs, "no, no, you didn't have great sex with sheldon."

"fuck you." you spit. he's still chuckling as he says, "no, no. sheldon can do your income taxes. if you need a root canal, sheldon's your man. but humping and pumping is not sheldon's strong suit." you wrinkle your nose at his vulgar language. "it's the name. 'do it to me sheldon, oh, you're an animal 'sheldon.' it doesn't work." he says, moaning loudly and making you red. you swat him and he laughs.

you're furious, but the waitress shows up and asks for your orders. "hiya doll, i'll have the number three, please." richie orders. the waitress looks at you. you smile, "i'd like the chef salad please with the oil and vinegar on the side and the apple pie a la mode. but if possible, i'd like the pie heated and i don't want the ice cream on top i want it on the side. and i'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it? if not then no ice cream, just whipped cream - but only if it's real. if it's out of a can then nothing."

the waitress looks at you and you can feel richie's eyes on you in the silence following your order. "not even the pie?" she asks, while writing. you shake your head, "no, just the pie, but then not heated.” she looks at you slightly but nods, "noted, coming right up."

you look at richie, "what?" you ask as he stares at you. he shakes his head, "nothing, nothing. so how come you broke up with this sheldon?" he asks.

you stare at him, irritated and regretting agreeing to this road trip. "how you know we broke up?" you say. richie grins, "because if you didn't break up, you wouldn't be here with me, you'd be off boning with sheldon the wonder-schlong." "richie."

the next moment you know you shouldn't have agreed to this is an hour later, back on the road. you can feel richie's eyes burning into your head, so you stop singing.

"you should probably keep your eyes on the road." you suggest lightly, making the boy crack a smirk. "you're a very attractive person." he says earnestly. you look back down to the map in your hands, "thank you."

"amanda never said how attractive you were." richie says, as if he's just saying whatever he's thinking. "well maybe she doesn't think i'm attractive." you say with a shrug.

richie hums,"i don't think it's a matter of opinion," you can't help the butterflies in your chest at the compliment. "y'know, like...empirically you're attractive."

you frown, distrustful that richie's being so flirty with his girlfriend's friend. "amanda is my friend." you say.

richie looks at you with a tilt of the head, "yeah, so?" "-so, you're going with her." "so?" you scowl, "so you're coming on to me!"

richie's eyebrows shoot up and he looks defensive, "no i wasn't- what?" you're unimpressed, eyes widening and jaw dropping. this boy is full of shit, and the smirk on his face proves it. you don't think you're much of a big fan of this richie kid.

"can't a man say a woman is attractive without it being a come-on?" he asks with a blindingly charming smile that makes you glare. "-alright, alright, let's just say just for the sake of argument that it was a come-on. what do you want me to do about it? i take it back, okay? i take it back."

you cross your arms, staring out the window. "you can't take it back." richie groans, "why not?" "because it's already out there." "oh god, what are we suppose to do, call the cops? it's already out there!" he yelps, swerving on the road and making you grip your seat. "just let it lie, okay?" you say, annoyed. "great! let it lie. that's my policy. that's what i always say, let it lie." richie mutters, and you shoot him a glance before looking back at the rolling greenery outside the window. it's quiet for a moment, then, "wanna spend the night at a motel?"

your jaw drops, richie beating you to speaking as he laughs at your reaction. he finds it so funny, but all you do is glare. asshole. "see what i did? i didn't let it lie." "richie." you say. "i said i wouldn't and i didn't." he adds. "richie."

"in fact, i went the other way, i-" you cut richie off, "richie!" he looks at you, "what?" you shake your head, huffing. "we're just going to be friends, okay?"

"fine by me. friends, it's the best thing. " he says.

it's silent for ten more minutes, and you almost get to sleep until you're jolted awake by a voice you've been forced to listen two for six hours straight. "-you realize, of course, that we can never be friends."

his words, while irritating beyond belief, do capture your attention. "and why not?" you say.

he swallows. "what I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.”

its silent for a second as you take in the stupidity of his words. "jesus, richie. that's not true, i have a number of men friends and there's no sex involved.”

“no you don't.” he says matter-of-factly. you scowl, "yes i do.”

“no you don't.” “yes i do.” "you only think you do.”

"you're saying i'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?" you sass, rolling your eyes so hard it hurts. richie huffs a short laugh, "no, what i'm saying is they all want to have sex with you."

you wrinkle your nose. "they do not. that's really disgusting." "maybe it is, but it’s true." "they do not!" you insist, turning in your seat to stare at him. "do too." your jaw goes slack and you narrow your eyes, "how do you know?"

"because. no man can be friends with a woman he finds attractive - he always wants to have sex with her."

you feel like punching him in the face. "so you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive." you say, feeling disgusted by his sexism. "we- uh, you pretty much wanna nail 'em too."

you groan, "well what if the women don't want to have sex with you?" you say. "well, sure. but it's still ruined because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that’s the end of the story. men are very stupid and painfully simple creatures."

"well i guess we're not going to be friends then." you snap, turning to look back out the window. he's such a fucking douche, you can't believe you're trapped in this car with him for ten more hours.

"guess not." he mutters.

you sigh, "that's too bad. you're the only person i knew in new york."

you slept for eight of the ten hours left, and when you’re unloading richie's luggage from your car in front of a small apartment, he nudges you slightly. you look up at him as he towers above you, raising a brow. you hate to admit it, but this asshole is awfully cute when he’s not being the devil.

"thanks for the ride." he says with a soft smile.

you nod, "yeah, it was... interesting." you say. he smiles, "it was nice knowing you." he offers his hand out to you, and you grip it, his hand warm and rough in yours. "yeah." is all you can say.

richie steps away, grabbing his things. "well... have a nice life." you say as you get back into the car.

"you too, y/n."

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @diegos-knives @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #losers x reader #losers club x reader

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 20 - Just Kids

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what consequences?, 4.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19

All too soon, two very familiar colors filled the back of the van. Alex’s heart immediately submerged into the dark ocean it always went to in despair, knowing they were all screwed this time. He could already see Bobby pulling onto the shoulder - they didn’t need the sound of sirens to tell them what was up. Willie still seemed like he wasn’t all present, and Alex squeezed his fingers and shook his hands to bring him back to the now. They had really hoped it wouldn’t happen. None of the guys could’ve anticipated the alarm, or that Caleb would be in town when they definitely thought he was gone, or that everything would go wrong.

Not knowing didn’t matter, though. Hours later, all five of them sat inside a holding cell at the LAPD, heads bowed as none of them dared to make eye contact with each other. It was early morning by the time all of them had been processed, and they were all varying levels of exhausted. The time passed at a frustratingly slow pace, although there was no way of telling what time it was. Thankfully, they were the only ones in the cell at the time; if there had been other inmates it would’ve sent Alex’s nerves past their threshold. A guard sat just outside a doorway to the rest of the station while another sat directly outside the cell.

Alex was tempted to wrap his arm around Willie’s shoulders, since he remained dissociated, but the eye contact from the officer sitting across from them was too unsettling. He didn’t like the thought that came through his mind - the one that made him feel like an even worse criminal, even though he knew he wasn’t. Stubbornly, Alex fought to push the feeling away, and settled for putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder. There was almost no reaction, but then Alex saw his brown eyes flicker in his direction and that was all the peace he needed.

“It’s my fault, you guys,” Reggie murmured, barely peering up from where his head hung dejectedly. “I was just so caught up in getting back - ”

“It’s not your fault, Reggie,” Bobby interrupted him gently. “He was waiting for us.”

Luke didn’t speak. His eyes couldn’t leave his empty hands. Alex almost couldn’t look at him; it was a sad image.

They had all been so sure that Caleb was finally out of LA, never spoke about their plans at the studio, had been so careful about the way they acted around him - there was no way. There was just no way that he could’ve been so ready to show up just as they were trying to get the master copies of their album out of his hands. And worse, now Alex had dragged Willie into it, and the guilt mounted even higher from there.

A female officer approached the cell with a clipboard, not bothering to look up from the page she had her eyes glued to.

“Bobby Wilson?”

Bobby raised his head at the sound of his name.

“You have an older brother here to pick you up,” she said monotonously. “You’re free to go.”

The door to the cell was opened and Bobby made his way out in slight confusion. He threw a conflicted look back toward Luke.

“Did he say if I was taking anyone with me?”

“He came for Bobby Wilson and Bobby Wilson only.” Her tone shut down any further questions that he had. Looking back apologetically, his shoulders slumped as Luke shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luke said, although not as assuring as he likely wanted to be. “I’ll be fine.”

Alex watched as Bobby’s eyes lingered for a few seconds on Reggie, who was still hunched forward with his gaze fixed on the concrete floor. It seemed so uncharacteristic for him, but Alex understood he was probably shutting down at the mere thought of returning home. The emotions ran high enough in his home as it was. They hadn’t really been given options as for who got called when they’d been brought to the police department. Finally, Bobby turned and took the car keys and wallet that had been confiscated and disappeared.

Luke moved closer to Reggie and put a hand on his back, and he began muttering something to him. They were just far enough away that Alex couldn’t properly hear what they were saying.

“Sheldon’s gonna be so freaked out when I get home,” Willie spoke suddenly. Alex turned to see him finally looking around the cell, fully aware of his surroundings.

“Hopefully he’ll be okay,” he assured. “They can only hold us for up to twelve hours; that’s what they said.”

Willie looked at him and nodded, eyes once again immediately training themselves onto empty space.

“How are you doing?” Alex asked carefully. Willie didn’t move his eyes, but he appeared to be brought back into focus again.

“I just have all these images running in my mind,” he said. “Things he did. Things I did. He decided to pretend I was dead rather than deal with my existence. It’s like he was already trying to bury me by taking away any connection to my past. Sometimes I wonder what I was like before the accident. What if I deserved this?”

For a minute, Alex merely sat with his jaw agape, as if he’d been slapped upon hearing what Willie was saying.

“Wha- ? No. Willie, that can’t be right,” he started. “You couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, no matter what happened in the past.”

Willie shook his head.

“I was in the foster system, Alex,” he argued. “From the few things I know, I was passed around a little bit. Caleb was someone who took difficult kids; he had a reputation with social services. I wanted him to be the bad guy because I got a taste of something better, but when I look around, Alex? I have no one to call. Not even family.”

It was the first time Alex had seen tears well up in his eyes since the night at the Stratosphere, but he felt that any comfort he wanted to offer wouldn’t be accepted. All he could do was look back at this beautiful boy who deserved far more than he believed, brow furrowed in silent protest. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Willie had a point. There was a possibility that the guys’ dislike of the man had become biased based on Willie’s story, as unintentional as it may have been. Still, Alex refused to believe that it was because Willie was the real menace.

“Look, we may never know the truth,” he started, trying to look at him as directly as he could. “But I’m the one who got you here; I take responsibility for that. And sometimes having someone to call doesn’t mean they’re there for you.”

Willie gave him a look that was mixed, but he mostly read concern. Frankly, Alex wasn’t sure what his own parents’ reaction would be, but he didn’t dare hope for any sort of understanding.

“Reggie Peters?” The same female officer approached the cell again with her clipboard.

Reggie turned away from his conversation with Luke, sucking in a nervous breath.

“Your mother is here to take you home; you’re free to go.”

Pressing his lips together anxiously, Reggie simply bowed his head as he was escorted out the same way Bobby had been. Luke promptly spread himself out along the bench, pulling his beanie over his face.

For a while, Alex let his mind wander as he kept his hand resting on Willie’s shoulder. What Willie had said made him want to reevaluate the whole situation with Caleb. It wasn’t that he thought Willie was as bad as he said he was, but it stood to be examined. He remembered the difference between his short first impression of the man at the diner, and the second time he’d seen him. He even remembered his own reasoning - how it was possible that Caleb could come off as so severe while running a diner but maintain such charisma while serving guests.

A pang of memory also came as Alex had noted he didn’t seem like a straight man and after months of actually working with him there was even greater evidence toward that notion. It had been what made Alex want to trust him in the beginning. Finding an adult figure who offered him a break from being constantly vigilant about the way he naturally felt had been a blessing. Not even Alex could ignore that. However, something still told him that just because they had that in common didn’t make Caleb trustworthy.

“Luke Patterson?” All three boys looked up in surprise when they heard the officer’s voice a third time. Luke clutched his beanie to his chest, confused most of all as he sat up from the bench. Instead of announcing who had come for him, the officer stepped aside as two familiar faces came toward the cell.

Julie Molina and her Aunt Victoria looked at the boys, both with stern expressions.

“Julie?” Luke uttered in surprise, standing up from the bench and slowly moving toward her.

Folding her arms, Julie had her eyes fixed on Luke with a brand of disappointment that appeared to burn like acid. She flashed the same look toward Alex for a moment and he was duly stung. Luke could make all the sad, pleading puppy faces he wanted, but ultimately was struck dumb by knowing he had no room to speak.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Julie told him, the chastising tone not to be missed. Luke’s face fell and he hung his head, looking back toward Alex with a similar apologetic look as Bobby had given.

Alex caught Victoria also looking at him. It was still stern, but more in telling him she was let down. Why it compounded his already guilty feelings even more, he couldn’t understand. Her expression changed, however, as she looked at Willie next to him, as though she were trying to recall where she recognized him. Immediately forgetting his guilt for a moment, Alex perked up and subtly pointed a finger toward him, mouthing the name “Willie!” to her. She looked at him incredulously, and it was a shame the officer was already escorting them out with Luke, because he was sure she had questions.

“Was that Julie’s mom?” Willie asked. Startled, Alex looked at him and cleared his throat.

“Ah, no, that was her aunt,” he told him. “Her mom is still in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Willie replied, casting he gaze to where they had left with a look of empathy. “That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed.

For the second surprise that night (morning? Alex couldn’t tell), and for the fourth time, the female officer returned.

“William Taylor?”

Willie looked at Alex in utter perplexity, and then back at the officer.

“Um…” he began saying. Before he finished, Flynn came around the corner accompanied by a woman both boys assumed was her mother.

“Hey big bro!” she said in a highly exaggerated tone, sending them a gigantic wink with a grin that was very out of place. “Looks like you messed up big time mister!”

Willie could only stare back in shock. Alex was too busy trying not to laugh at her poor acting skills. It was so obvious that she and Willie weren’t family.

“Hey...sis,” Willie said finally, still unsure what was happening just then.

Holding onto the bars and leaning close into the holding cell, Flynn dropped the grin immediately.

“Julie tipped us off and Alex’s parents aren’t coming, so we’re doing you guys a big favor,” she said to them in a low voice, laying on the irritation and topping it off with a tilt of her head and a smile that suggested murder.

Promptly, Willie stood up and was let out of the cell, still looking at Flynn and her mom in bewilderment. Alex sat with his hands folded in uncertainty.

“Him too,” Flynn’s mom nodded toward him. The officer opened the door for him and Alex sighed as he came out, realizing just how high his nerves had really been while sitting there for the past few hours. He could suddenly feel the blood rushing into his fingers again.

As he and Willie followed Flynn and her mom outside, he wasn’t surprised that his parents had opted not to come get him. If he guessed right, his father would’ve refused to go in some backward attempt to show tough love, and his mother would’ve been barred from going herself to show she agreed with the choice. Both he and Willie thanked Flynn’s mom as they sat in the back seat of her van.

Flynn turned around in the passenger seat as they drove off and Alex knew what was coming.

“How many times am I gonna save your ass?” she directed at Willie.

“Language, honey,” her mom warned. Flynn rolled her eyes, but backed down a little.

Willie smiled nervously at her.

“Third time’s a charm?” he offered with little confidence.

“There better not be a third time,” she cautioned. “Seriously, what were you thinking?”

Alex opened his mouth to respond but she put up a hand.

“Actually, save it. Anything I have to say is just what Julie will say to you guys later, and she’s the one who’s really mad at you. Right now, I’ve got permission to skip school and I’m not gonna waste it lecturing you two.”

Sharing a look with Willie, both boys were happy to at least not have to endure Julie’s wrath right that minute. It was only imaginable what Luke was going through at the moment.

“So, how did you know I was there?” Willie asked.

Flynn leaned back into the correct position in her seat and took in a deep breath.

“Julie’s aunt is supposed to be on sabbatical, but apparently she can’t stop doing little bits of work here and there. She’s an investigator. Anyway, I guess she was doing something at ungodly hours on a Sunday night for God knows why, and she was already in the station when Sunset Gets-Caught-Being-Stupid was brought in. I guess she tried to make sure nobody called the Pattersons because she promised Julie she won’t, and she found out there was a fifth kid with no emergency contact so she had Julie call me, and I had to wake up at six-thirty this morning to an angry Julie and while I, for one, don’t care that you were trying to steal something, the way y’all did it was just so dumb, I can’t even stand to look at y’all - ”

“Okay, we get it,” Alex interrupted.

“But the important thing is,” Flynn continued. “We can’t take you guys home. Sorry.”

“Wait, why not?” Alex asked.

“I have one hour before I need to be in the office,” Flynn’s mom told them. “So I’m putting my girl in charge of you two for the day.”

Flynn looked back at them smugly.

“Oh, I’m putting you two to work,” she said, not hiding how much she enjoyed being in a position of power.

Alex could only gesture with his hands in a manner of saying “ah, well,” and sighing in acceptance. This was loads better than dealing with his parents for the time being. And Willie seemed to have finally broken entirely out of the strange trance he’d been in ever since they’d seen Caleb.

“Do we get a nap first?” Willie asked. “‘Cuz we’ve been awake all night.”

Flynn’s eyebrows shot up in realization and she flopped back into her seat again with a sigh.

“That’s fair.”

It was well past noon by the time Alex opened his eyes. They had thanked Mrs. Taylor and then immediately passed out on the living room couch. Barely gaining his bearings, he found Willie still zonked on the opposite arm of the couch. He couldn’t help but admire his sleeping form, so much calmer than any other time he knew. The sunlight streaming in from the blinds glanced perfectly off his cheekbones and highlighted the rich brown tones in his hair. Alex had been struck by how handsome he was from the second they met at the diner, but he’d hardly gotten a moment to properly appreciate how beautiful he was.

Somehow there was something so lonely about him that brought an ache to Alex’s chest. Their conversation from earlier replayed in his mind. Willie really seemed to believe he didn’t belong anywhere when the only thing Alex wanted in the whole world was to keep him tightly in his arms. He really hoped to show Willie how much he meant to him some day.

“Oh my god, you are so in love with him,” he heard Flynn saying as she stood at the edge of the living room. He was too tired to give a proper response and could only turn to her still wearing a look of fondness. “Oh my god, stop, you are so precious!”

All Alex could do was lightly chuckle in return. Flynn tilted her head adoringly.

“And to think I was there from the beginning,” she reminisced.

Alex had a realization hit.

“I never said thank you, did I?”

She shrugged.

“No. But now you get to pay me back by doing all the chores my mom left for you.”

Heaving a sigh, Alex sank back into the couch and pressed his lips together, already reeling from exhaustion.

“Yep,” he muttered before reaching over and grabbing Willie’s hand, gently shaking it to kindly wake him up.

“Sheldon...stop,” Willie groaned as his tired face pinched together against the light. Alex giggled as he leaned over and tried shaking his shoulder instead.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said in a low voice, watching as Willie’s eyes fluttered open and immediately gazed back into his face. The absolutely enamoured smile that spread from cheek to cheek as he took in Alex’s face framed with his hair hanging down was more than Alex could take, and he felt honest-to-God butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey,” Willie murmured, his voice a pitch lower than usual from being asleep with just the right amount of vocal fry. It took all of Alex’s strength not to smother him right there on the couch.

“I really do hate to break this up, you lovebirds,” Flynn told them. “But it’s time to get to work!” She clapped her hands and the boys clambered off the couch, still sharing admiring looks at each other. She led them through her house, listing off the many things her mom had demanded: cleaning bathrooms, weeding the garden, and mowing the lawn were all there.

“And last but not least,” Flynn was saying as she led them upstairs. She flung the door open to an unfurnished room with bare walls and plastic covering the floor. “Painting!”

Alex saw Willie’s face transform from bleary task mode to shining with joy at the prospect of getting to paint. He wasn’t sure what it was, but everything Willie did was making him fall even further in a way he hadn’t thought possible. They were doing household chores for heaven’s sake. It made him consider doing all the rest of the chores just to let Willie do something he enjoyed. After seeing his reaction to Caleb, Alex thought it would lift his spirits more than anything.

“I say we divide and conquer then?” he suggested, putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. Willie tore his eyes away from the unpainted walls to give Alex a puzzled look. Before he could ask questions, though, Alex simply looked him directly in the eyes and nodded toward the room before them, insisting he stay and paint without saying a word. He saw Willie’s expression soften and one corner of his mouth turn up in a delighted smirk once he understood the message.

“Okay,” Willie muttered to him, facing the bare walls with newfound glee.

Willie watched Alex head back down the stairs and he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend as much time with him as possible - looking into that angelic face as he’d woken up had spun his head more than anything else in his life - but it was just the thought of how he was suddenly in Alex’s world and it was so...different. It vaguely reminded him of hanging out with everyone after the show at the Pearl, but it appeared to be so much deeper and so tight-knit. Julie and Flynn and their families went so far as to stick out their necks for the guys when they really had messed up, and it wasn’t even an obligation. Even being made to do housework for people who were still practically strangers to him felt like he was being taken in with open arms. He had the intruding thought that he’d eventually wear out his welcome.

“So, are we painting everything the same?” he asked Flynn, rubbing his hands together. Flynn wagged a finger and smiled with excitement.

“No,” she teased. Going over to a corner, she lifted two cans of paint, handing one of them to him. Looking at the swatch smeared on the top of the lid, Willie smiled to see a lovely teal, and then sunflower yellow on the can in Flynn’s hands.

“Oooh yes, these are some good choices,” he said, rolling up a sleeve with his free hand. All the worried thoughts could be put aside as they began popping the lids off and mixing the paint. “Have you got a hair tie I could borrow?”

“There is something about a boy asking me that question that just feels amazing,” Flynn commented as she briefly headed out to fetch one. Giggling at her remark, Willie lifted the paint mixer and watched the color drip into the can in fascination. There was something familiar about the notion of painting that made him wonder if it was something he’d done often before. Before forgetting. Would putting the brush in his hand unleash some kind of muscle memory or sense of nostalgia for something he didn’t know he had? Flynn returned with the hair tie and handed it to him, and he immediately pulled his hair back into a small bun.

“Alright, so these walls are gonna be the teal green color,” Flynn instructed, pointing toward the walls furthest from the window. “And these over here are gonna be yellow. I’ll start with the yellow and meet you at the corner, sound good?” Willie nodded at her as she moved her paint supplies over to the opposite side of the room, putting her braids up into a ponytail as well.

“Copy that,” Willie replied.

Once the paint was all mixed they got to work, both silently focused on the task at hand. For a while, all that could be heard was the repetitive swipe of brushes against the texture of the wall. There had been no sweeping rush like Willie imagined, but a gentle comfort quickly took over as he watched the color fill the empty space. He heard a loud buzzing outside and for a moment, peeked out the window to see Alex steady at work mowing the lawn below.

“So,” Flynn started, almost making him jump as he turned his attention to her. “It looks like our skater boy likes to paint; do you do art too? I saw your face.”

Chuckling, Willie hadn’t realized he’d gotten himself stuck in a situation that warranted friendly banter. Out of all of Alex’s friends, though, she was the one he’d seen the most, now that he thought about it. Despite how aggressive she had appeared at first, he really enjoyed her energy.

“Yeah, actually I draw. A lot,” he told her.

“Nice!” she nodded. “What kind of stuff do you draw?”

“People...places,” he said thoughtfully as he continued painting. “Memories.”

Flynn kept nodding, her expression becoming more pensive. “Cool.... Memories are interesting. Did you do a lot of cool things when you were little?”

Willie chewed on his tongue for a minute, realizing she still didn’t know. Even now that he’d been away from Caleb for a while and Alex’s reaction had been so kind, sometimes speaking of his amnesia still felt like something that wasn’t allowed. Regardless, it was a pretty important detail.

“I actually don’t know,” he stated. Flynn’s eyebrows knit together in response. “I was in an accident a little over a year ago, and I don’t remember anything - well, I remember a few things, but not a lot. Whatever I can figure out, I try to draw it so it stays with me.”

She gave him a long sympathetic look. Every time it was different; Alex had been a little shocked but then really sweet, Bessie had merely brushed over it like it wasn’t anything crazy, and now Flynn had her big brown eyes staring with such sadness in them. Again, he wondered how much he had really lost along with his memory. It seemed to be a thing everyone else could properly mourn, knowing the difference, but he couldn’t no matter how much he tried.

“That’s really awful,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Willie only nodded, accepting her words.

“It sucks, but I manage,” he said. They both resumed painting after noticing they had stopped for a moment.

“I mean, you made it here, which is pretty amazing,” Flynn told him. “Well, not here as in we just picked you up from the police station, but you know, you left Vegas and have your sweet job at the record shop.”

He shrugged, trying to be casual. Those thoughts were getting to him today in a way they hadn’t ever before. The ones that said he was still messing everything up anyway. He was just in a different city with a different job. It was great that he’d miraculously found Alex, which had been his entire goal, but now that he’d passed that step in his plan, life went on. And it hadn’t really become so different, now that Caleb had his hands on things again. There were still so many questions about that as well, because he really did wonder if maybe he had made everything out to be worse in his mind. Caleb had been his guardian for three years and Willie was one of numerous kids - he couldn’t be that insidious, could he?

“I said, ‘you’re dripping paint on your shirt!’” Flynn repeated to him, enunciating loudly and snapping him out of his train of thought.

“Oh,” he started, looking down at his now ruined shirt and then continuing to work on the wall. He could live with it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just keep thinking.”

“Uh huh. Whole lot of nothing to think about in there.”

Willie shot her a slightly wounded look. She rolled her eyes.

“Sarcasm, sorry. Looks like you have so much on your mind you can’t even function. So what’s up?”

He looked at her, unsure where to begin. It was great that she seemed easy to trust, because it made him less hesitant about talking, but he didn’t want to turn the painting session into something else. His mouth betrayed him though.

“I just keep thinking that maybe I have everything wrong and I brought all the guys down with me,” he confessed. Flynn didn’t respond, but listened quietly. “I met Alex and it was amazing! And I got it in my head that maybe being here with him would make everything better. But it looks like I’m just a bad influence.”

Flynn had nodded along until that last sentence, to which she tilted her head and squinted.

“Hold up,” she said. “Alex told me Caleb was your guardian, right?”

Willie nodded.

“Who also told Alex you were dead for no good reason?”

He nodded again.

“And you think you’re the bad guy here?” She had set down her brush and placed her hands on her hips.

Taking in a deep breath, Willie prepared to explain.

“Well - ”

Flynn simply held up both hands to shut him up.

“Willie. Buddy. You’re just a kid.”

You’re just a kid.

The words echoed around in his brain for a little bit as he let them settle in. She was right. Somehow he’d lost sight of that.

“You made some mistakes, I get it,” she continued. “But you’re not the bad guy. You’re still figuring things out. Actually, you know what I first thought of you? Well, actually, my first thought was that you were some creep who was trying to get into my friend’s concert, but after that, you know who I saw? A really good guy trying to show someone he cared. And bad people don’t do that.”

For a long time Willie just stared back at her in amazement. Somehow Flynn had managed to completely obliterate any other self-deprecating thought he had. It was the most human he’d felt all day. There was a sticky thud as his brush landed on plastic and he rushed to throw his arms around her.

“Oh!” she cried in surprise, slowly accepting the hug in return and patting his back. Willie squeezed her tightly and then stepped back, chuckling to himself as a small wave of embarrassment hit.

“Julie has good taste in friends,” he told her. “You’re really good at those pep talks.”

Flynn beat her chest with her palm and graciously took the compliment.

“Thank you.”

Willie picked up his brush again and continued working. He almost laughed when he had the thought that while he technically already had a boyfriend, Flynn was his first real friend. He was going to make that count.

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beclynn-herondale · 4 years

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Inside TMI Gang's diaries part 5 2/3

Clary: Dear diary, I ran away with Jace, mom won't be happy, but I have to save my Jace. Simon is covering for me, although that won't last long and mom may go mama bear on him, I do love him though and I'll owe him one. So far things have been weird, seeing Jace get along with Sebastian is strange and I don't like it, and Sebastian is as evil as ever, i miss Jace so much, this Jace isn't my Jace. And Sebastian doesn't trust me I know this for a fact, but I don't trust him either and you better watch your back Sebastian.

*Later*

So Jace's room is the same as it always is, so clean not a mess, everything is neat, but he isn't Jace. We went on a date, Sebastian let us cause Jace would be with me, Jace cam speak italian and hates ducks, I'll have to mention this stuff when he is my Jace again, we stole a boat but that's nothing new from what we usually do, the date was nice but I felt guilty for enjoying it, when we came back Sebastian was occupied and creepy, anyway, we had a talk when I woke up later and he is starting to confuse me, but that's what he wants. I went back to bed and got up again, also Jace can make eggs, I don't like them but can't tell him that, also I wonder if he can cook other things, need to make a list of things to ask him when he's back to normal Jace. We also read a copy of his ancestor's book.

*Later later*

Me, Jace and Sebastian, went on a mission kind of thing, Simon calls us team Evil, we fought a demon, and I actually kicked a demons butt, Sebastian took us to a kinda night club, me and Jace got high, Sebastian told me I have a dark heart and like bitch whatever. Me and Jace made out in the club and uh things kinda got outta control, I am not proud, ok, I thought I saw dead people and passed out, I woke up to Sebastian leaving and followed him, demons almost killed me and he saved me, what is he doing? I lost my ring and can't get in contact with Simon, everything is bad and maybe this is all hopeless, no, I just need coffee, sweet sweet coffee, I need a coffee high *coffee/knife/serious emoji*

Possessed Jace: Dear diary, things are good, Sebastian keeps giving me weird looks when I am with Clary though, Sebastian we are still cool though don't worry. Clary is here and it's nice, I want her to be happy and her to have whatever she wants, I am gonna be so romantic but cool about *sunglasses emoji* I am Jace Lightwood, and extremely smooth and she loves me.

*Later*

I took Clary on a date and I nailed it *sunglasses emoji* we went back home after that and I read to her and we went to sleep, after that we went on a mission, my fire goddess kicked ass, and Sebastian took us to a night club place to take care of evil stuff, me and Clary got high and we did some things at the night club. In the morning I made her eggs, I'll make her eggs all the time, Sebastian wants to discuss evil plans now.

Trapped Jace: *sharpening knives* just wait you little shit, keep looking at Clary like that and I'll stab you, I am gonna beat you up, you shall know my wrath, and I will bring it upon you. *Knife/murderous emoji*

Sebastian: Dear evil diary, what can I say, the fruit of evil is ripe, I have evil plans, I have Jace under my finger, I have Clary now too, and soon she'll understand. Jace will do anything I say and Clary will do anything for him, love truly does make one weak. And I wi burn shit. Also maybe I'll play with stuff as well. *Devil emoji*

*Later*

We got into a fight and Clary can kick ass, maybe I underestimated her a tiny little bit. We went to a night club and I talk to Meliorn and I do believe the fair folk will stand with me, and after all I do have something with the queen, and I know what you are going to say what about Jace? Well you see Jace is my backup plan he has no idea ;)

Alec: Dear diary, still sneaking around, Jace is still gone, Clary is gone now too, Jocelyn is angry and I know why she scares Jace now, Izzy and Simon are something, Idk but my big brother instincts are kicking in. Jocelyn and Izzy went to the Iron Sisters and found out there isn't a weapon to separate Jace from Sebastian, unless it is of heaven itself or something. *Shrug emoji*

*Later* so we summoned a demon, and then a greater demon, what have we become? I'll do whatever it takes to save Jace, but like when did we start summoning demons and greater demons like it's not a big deal? I think we've lost our minds, and we are also now apparently going to summon Raziel, what are we doing, but it's for Jace. Also Magnus does look good in his outfit today but there is stuff between us. When did life get so complicated? *shrug emoji*

Magnus: Dear diary, welcome back to the crazy chaotic would of Shadowhunters, I may have lost Clary, but it's not my fault she can make portals, I see an angry Jocelyn in my future. Alec is kinda weird lately but it's probably nothing, Isabelle and Jocelyn were going to the Iron Sisters to see if there is a weapon that can separate Jace and Sebastian, blondie needs to come back so all this Shadowhunter drama will calm down.

*Later*

We summoned a demon and after that we summoned the greater demon Azazel, the little shit almost told Alec who my father is, and I swear what have I gotten myself into? Oh! Also apparently we are gonna summon an Angel now, I have a feeling we'll all be dead by the end of this, it's a miracle we haven't died already, I have to do research and stuff, also Sheldon saved my cat so I am thankful for that, Isabelle and Simon have something going on, Jocelyn is gone, and I want to drink and drink, cause Magnus is done bitches. But also Alec is looking beautiful today. *throws glitter* *sunglasses emoji*

Izzy: Dear diary, Simon came to me like I asked him to, and he told me about starwars or something, I don't remember the plot exactly but I think they had something called lifesavers???? Or something, also they are apparently in space which is cool, and the good guys win. Also me and Jocelyn went to the Iron Sisters and they said I would make a good one but like bish ya girl needs her heels, idk what has gotten into me lately, but when I think about Simon I feel happy and I get this feeling and I want to spend time with him and hear him talk endlessly about starwars cause he is so passionate about it. *Confused emoji*

*Later*

We may have kinda summoned a demon, and then a greater demon, and now we may kinda be getting ready to summon an angel we are on our way to Luke's farm so yeah. . . But yeah, Simon may die and idk what to do... *Blank emoji*

Simon: Dear diary, life just doesn't seem to be letting up, first Clary ran off to do reckless shit, Jace is literally possessed by her evil Brother and is like a puppet, Jocelyn is mad I didn't stop Clary, but honestly who can stop Clary?!?! — Izzy went off to the Iron sister earlier with Jocelyn before she found out Clary was gone and apparently they can't make a weapon to separate Jace and Sebastian without killing them both, this is the part where that intense action yet hopeless music would start playing. *Nerd emoji*

*Later* I told Izzy the plot of Starwars and she listened and laughed and said it was neat, she said It was neat and even though it is so much more than neat for some reason her just listening to me talk about it made me so happy, she may become a fan *Shooketh emoji* but also we summoned a demon, and then a greater demon and now we are going to summon an angel to try and get the angel Michael's sword called glorious cause it's apparently the only weapon that will work, but I may die so rip, but also please let everything be alright but also I do have the mark of cain it's just a matter of if it works. *Worried emoji*

Church: Dear Cat diary, I come to you with the heavy weight of the most fucking done I have ever been, Jem is still hasn't come and saved me, Herondale is still possessed and honestly I am done, fire ball ran away, archer boy is off doing shit, Izzy is falling in love now too and I thought she would be the one who wouldn't like girl love drama? And Simon is probably contributing to whatever chaotic plan fire ball has. evil shit is probably off doing evil shit, where's that sweet little boy? Gone! Because an ass had to be an ass. Sorry I need to control my emotions, I just miss Jem so much, and these kids are driving me crazy, also Magnus you are contributing as well now,Jem Jem Jem pls. Anyway I am gonna go sharpen my claws and eat tuna and drown my sorrows in tuna. *Cat/tuna/murderous emoji*

Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @megs-readstoomuch @spotsandclawsthings @magnus-the-maqnificent @replayfootsteps @sarcasticmalecfan @simply-ellas-stuff @my-archerboy

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nerdforestgirl · 4 years

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Note: This might be the last year that I do this, but for now I have a tradition to continue.

Amy's birthday was coming up, and it was always among her favorite days of the year. Sheldon always made a fuss. Her friends too. It felt good to be celebrated for just existing. Sure, Amy was a Nobel winning scientist, but to her husband and friends, she was so much more than that. To them, she was Amy Farrah Fowler. That was the long and short of it. She was her, and that was all she needed to be to them.

Amy had never been one of those birthday week or month people. The single day or maybe an extra weekend day if that fit everyone's schedule better was all she needed, but it felt good to be unabashedly loved by her friends. Especially when she grew up with so many birthdays where all she did was spend the day with her parents. If she even got that. Her 15th birthday had involved spending the whole day completely forgotten about and stuck in the rain.

“I was thinking that this year for my birthday, I'd love it if we all dressed up and went out to dinner. My and Sheldon's treat of course. I love an excuse to dress up, and Sheldon looks hot in a suit,” Amy told Bernadette while they sat in Bernadette's kitchen one afternoon.

“Aren't you a little old for all of this?” Bernadette snapped. It was a hassle to fit both Amy's birthday in on the same day as Halley's. Halley was a little kid, so obviously her birthday could be a big deal. Amy was in her 40s. She was an adult, and Bernadette didn't really have time to hear about Amy's plan to have everyone out for a nice dinner.

“Uh. Yeah. I guess I am,” Amy said. She didn't think she was, but she was taken aback by both Bernadette's tone and words. “I just forgot that Sheldon wanted a ride to the train store. I'll see you later,” Amy added before a couple tears could start making their way down her face. Then she got up and left Bernadette's house.

Amy cried for the whole drive home. If she was going to cry, she usually tried to do it in her car. No one liked it when she cried, so she tried to spare anyone she could. When it wouldn't stop, Amy stopped at a coffee shop and picked up a hot beverage in the drive thru. The sugar from the hot chocolate and the warmth would help calm her down.

At first, Amy didn't know why she was crying. Her birthday wasn't all that important to her. Neither was the idea of a dinner with her friends. They did that stuff all the time. Sure, she wanted to go out to a restaurant instead of just eating at Leonard and Penny's, but it wasn't all that different. Then it hit Amy. She wanted to matter. She wanted to matter to her six best friends enough that they would take the time to have dinner with her. She wanted to be worth three hours of their time. And suddenly she didn't think she was was worth even that to them.

“I've won a Nobel. I have my own Wikipedia page. I matter,” Amy muttered to herself as she sipped her hot chocolate. It didn't make her feel any better. Sure, asymmetry was groundbreaking. People were already expanding on her work in so many ways. But if the people closest to her didn't have time for her, what did all that matter?

Amy kept crying alone in her car until she got a text from Sheldon.

“My phone says you are here, but you are not home or at Leonard and Penny's. Did I forget about the finals of our hide and seek competition? I thought they were next week.”

“I'm in my car. I'll be up in a minute,” Amy wrote back.

After a few minutes, Amy knew she really needed to get upstairs before Sheldon got too worried about her. Still she didn't. She stayed in her car and finished her hot chocolate.

Amy jumped when there were suddenly three knocks on her car window followed by her name. Amy rolled down the window and looked at her husband.

“Why are you still in your car? And why are you crying?” Sheldon asked Amy. Then he opened the door and climbed in next to her.

“Could you do me a favor and tell me that you love me?” Amy asked Sheldon.

“I love you,” Sheldon said without any hesitation. He didn't even ask why Amy would ask for such a thing. She knew he loved her, and it wasn't like he neglected to tell her that on a regular basis. He usually told her at least once a day, but often more than that.

“And I'm not a burden?” Amy tried.

“You are not a burden,” Sheldon repeated. He was the annoying burden out the of the two of them. They both knew that too. Of course she was annoying sometimes, but so was everyone. “Why do I need to say it?”

“Bernadette said that she didn't have time to celebrate my birthday this year. She said that I was too old to still care about my birthday,” Amy explained.

Sheldon knew that Amy hadn't had fun birthdays growing up. He didn't mind celebrating with her. She was his favorite person, so even if she wasn't making up for lost time, he loved celebrating her existence. He was beyond thrilled that she existed. Just like when he loved celebrating the day she became his wife.

“Fine. Bernadette can't come. Wolowitz either. Just because he's annoying. We'll still have your birthday dinner. Now, come inside. It's getting dark out here,” Sheldon told Amy. There would soon be shifty people and loose dogs about.

“But I'm crying,” Amy explained.

“You may cry inside. It's silly to just sit out here in the car just to cry,” Sheldon told her.

“You don't like it when I cry,” Amy told him.

“Of course I don't like it when you cry. I don't like it when you are hurt either. Well, except when you slipped on the last step last week and fell on your butt. That was hilarious,” Sheldon reminded her. He chuckled at the memory because it really was one of the funniest things he had seen all week and no permanent damage was done. “It doesn't mean you are not allowed to cry.”

“When did you get so smart?” Amy asked as she opened the door to go upstairs with Sheldon. She felt better already. Sheldon wasn't usually great at emotions, but he completely validated her emotions. It wasn't something he was usually great at.

“I've always been smart,” Sheldon said.

The pair went up to their apartment. Amy decided to climb into a nice hot bath and relax for a while. Sheldon was going to just order them a pizza because Amy didn't feel like cooking even though she normally did.

Then when Sheldon was alone, he found Amy's photo album. From there he took pictures of several of the photos in them before sending them to Bernadette.

“Did you know that Amy didn't have a birthday that included a single friend until after she met us?” Sheldon asked Bernadette in a message along with the photos of Amy all alone on her childhood birthdays.

“Was she upset that I said she shouldn't make such a big deal out of her birthdays? I knew I was being a jerk. I should apologize,” Bernadette wrote back immediately. She had had a feeling that Amy was upset when she left. Bernadette didn't think she was wrong exactly, but she could see that she had hurt Amy's feelings. Sometimes Bernie forgot how sensitive Amy could be under the surface.

“She was crying when she got home. She was worried that no one loved her and that she's a burden,” Sheldon wrote back. He wouldn't have known that if she hadn't outright said it, but he did know. He thought he would pass it along since he always could use the help on knowing how people felt.

“I will call and apologize right now,” Bernadette promised.

“She is in the bath and I do not allow electronics so close to the bathtub. I will text you when she is available again,” Sheldon explained.

Amy got out of the bath when the pizza came, and she started to serve herself a couple slices when her phone rang. It was Bernadette. She wasn't sure she wanted to answer it, but Sheldon looked at her expectedly. Amy grabbed the call.

“Hello?” Amy said.

“Hi. You left abruptly. Did you get to the train store?” Bernadette asked, playing dumb.

“Yeah. Sheldon got the new train car he needed,” Amy lied. She mouthed “sorry” to Sheldon because she knew it bothered him to be involved in a lie even if it didn't remotely matter.

“Good. Um. I wanted to say that I'm sorry about earlier. I have been stressed out at work and about Halley's birthday party, but I want you to know that I am happy you are my friend. I really want to go to dinner with you for your birthday. Getting dressed up sounds really nice,” Bernadette told Amy.

“Oh. It's not a big deal,” Amy lied again.

“It is to me. I like having you in my life, Amy. I love you and I want to celebrate you. I'm sorry that I made it sound like it didn't matter when you were over earlier. Howard and I will both be there,” Bernadette explained.

“Thank you, Bernadette,” Amy said earnestly. She was nearly crying again, but this time because she felt loved by her friend.

“What was that about?” Sheldon asked as if he had no idea what had just transpired.

“Bernadette apologized to me for saying I was too old to care about my birthday,” Amy told him. Then she finally took a big bite of the pizza in front of her.

“Good. Though, we can still leave Wolowitz off the guest list if you would like,” Sheldon joked.

“No. I want everyone to be there. They all love me and I them,” Amy told him.

#NFG fan fiction #this was maybe inspired by the fact that i was told that birthdays don't matter #but my friends all told me i overreacted when i got upset #but amy's friends do love her and think she matters

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brainiac5swife · 4 years

Note

also I hope you still like Brainy (and Karadox too, actually) even though the writing for him hasn't been great these past few episodes (although he certainly did his best, and it's better than last season)

Karadox will always be my number one and it kills me that I’ve barley seen them together all season ( I need to make more shitposts as that’s what this blog was originally made for lmao)

And not even the sh*tty writing of this season can stop me from loving Querl Dox - I don’t think anything can. I was re-watching 3x10 the other day (mostly sad because I love karadox and missed them together) and it really made me notice how they really don’t know who Brainy is anymore and it makes me sad.

I miss him being oblivious to social ques and correcting himself based on the reactions on people around him ( WHEN ITS NOT USED FOR HUMOR THANK U VERY MUCH SEASON 4!! ) I miss stuff like “out of the 4,237,642 versions of our first meeting I envisioned..” and “facetiousness it’s my greatest weakness”. I miss him being the smartest around everyone except for when it comes to commen sense like in 3x11. “This is the technology that backs up Supergirl in battle ??!??!?She is so much braver then I thought...I’ve seen espresso machines with more processing power”. I miss him yelling “Eurkia !!”.

This brainy gone dark is bullsh*t and I would only accept this kind of storyline if it had to do with the other brainiacs (with brainiac 4 being in Lexs place in the story) but nope.

If I had to compare who Brainys supposed to be any other character I would say he’s almost supposed to be like Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang theory. He doesn’t quite understand people or basic socialital concepts like we would. He holds onto his intelligence because having something like Science- something he can understand and knows well is quite important for him. He takes things literally and has trouble on picking up on remarks of sarcasm as he grew up on a planet where such things didn’t exist, there was only knowledge but he apologises and try’s to learn for the future because he wants to do better. It’s all so fustrating and exhausting for him but he knows it’s worth it because the legion are his family. Because no matter how insufferable he can get when it comes to his intelligence he knows the legion will stand by him because they know he’s trying. It’s like in 3x11 after Brainy yelled at Winn that he just needed space to think so Mon-El took Winn aside and said “it’s just best to leave him when he gets like this.” It’s happened before and most likely the entire legion is aware that this is the best solution for him in this situation.

Except he’s nothing like this anymore and I hate it. I just need the writers to remember who he is. This all being said nothing can stop me from loving him though. I’m just holding out hope that one day he will be back.

#phew this is longer then intended lmao #ive said it before and ill say it again these are just rants that i dont plan so if it makes no sense im sorry #brainiac 5 #supergirl cw #karadox #supergirl #brainy #querl dox #mon el #legion of super heroes #clyclone rachel

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colonel-insomniac · 5 years

Text

The Thief's Prince (part two

A/N- ok guys part two is here and part three will be up at most by next weekend though I'll try and get it up before then. Read all my other one shots on AO3 here

“I am so dead.” Are the only words that managed to exit the boy sitting naked in the tub.

“Uhm, I’m sorry but you just came out of a locket and I’m naked. So, uhm, who are you exactly?” Bobby asks, trying to stay calm, thankful for the bubbles covering his less appropriate areas.

“Ah, excuse me, Mr Porter. I am Sheldon Copepod, and I am the powerful being that haunts this locket. I am a genie and I am here to grant you three wishes of whatever you may desire, whenever you desire.” Bobby has to think about this one.

“Wait. I’m getting major vibes that you’re the type of genie that takes everything literally. And doesn’t copepod mean shrimp?” The genie looked a little bothered, at Bobby’s questions, but answered them regardless.

“Yes, and yes. If you absolutely have to know, the last genie of this lamp had a curse put upon him, and I was foolish enough to trade spots with him, and then the curse moved to me.” Bobby hates the feeling of being enclosed in a space, and so naturally he feels bad for Sheldon.

“How long have you been stuck in there?” Maybe he’s being too forward, but he really feels bad.

“Two decades.” Twenty years? That’s only one year older than Bobby, meaning that Sheldon has been stuck there for the entire duration of Bobby’s life.

“So I get three wishes?” He’s already thinking of what he might want, but he also knows that if he were the one trapped in there, he’d want his freedom. He’s gonna free Sheldon. But he isn’t going to tell him that just yet, just in case he tries to pull something.

“I believe that is what I said, yes. Now, do you wanna make your first wish or not? I’m a very busy genie.” Bobby contemplates asking exactly how someone trapped in a locket could have so many things to do, but he thinks better of it; pissing off something more powerful than you probably isn’t the best idea.

“I’m not exactly sure what I should wish for.” Sheldon sighs, and Bobby swears he hears him mutter “how did I get stuck with such a stupid kid?” which makes bothers Bobby a little. He is not a kid anymore, he’s a criminal. And criminals are too weathered to be considered kids, regardless of age.

“Kid, I can do just about anything you want me to do.” Sheldon is quick to add on when he sees Bobby’s eyes widen with all the possibilities. “Within limits, of course. I can not and will not kill anyone, bring anyone back from the dead, or make anyone fall in love with you. That last one would just be cruel.” Bobby’s cheeks flush at the last part, instantly thinking of the prince, even though that’s just stupid.

Everyone knows the prince would never love a criminal, it’s just plain strange. And yet, Bobby still can’t help but fantasize, even if it would never work out. He’s going to get hanged for his crimes if anyone figures out his true identity, and even though prince Patrick knows, Bobby figures he’s probably the safest one to have found out. Childhood friends, and all.

“Okay, well I don’t need anything now, and it seems wasteful to use a wish on something when I could be in danger later, so I don’t have a wish right now.” The glare sent his way by the being makes him add a ‘sorry.’ He’s really not trying to be cursed tonight.

The genie disappears back into the locket, accidentally knocking something over. It clatters on the floor, and Bobby cringes each time it makes contact with the floor. Bobby next hears footsteps rushing towards the door, and three and a half knocks. “Are you alright?” The prince asks, his voice slightly muffled by the door.

Bobby nods, head still whirling from everything going on, and it takes him a moment to realize Patrick can’t actually see him. “Uh, yeah! Just knocked something over accidentally.”

He decides he’s probably been in there long enough, so he drains the water out of the tub and dries himself off and redresses in his dirt-stained clothes. When Bobby exits the bathroom, he sort of just stands awkardly in the room, freezing but not wanting to say anything. He’s taken enough, he thinks. A locket, a bunch of semi-valuable to valuable items, he literally robbed Patrick the second he turned away and was able to. Bobby’s such a bad person.

His stomach feels as though it’s in knots, and he’s kinda concerned he’s gonna throw up, but then Patrick looks over, and leaps out of his bed excitedly, a gleeful look in his eye. “Yay, you’re back—wait, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick. Come, lie down on my bed?” He asks, pushing the shorter boy towards the bed, a hand on Bobby’s back, and it burns Bobby through his shirt; it makes him feel even worse.

So he walks. Not because he thinks he should lie down, but because it’s the only way he can stop himself from either freezing up completely, or bolting out the door, away from here, from this kingdom. Maybe he ought to do that anyways. Rid the kingdom of the petty thief known as Acro.

Bobby’s mom used to tell him that he was born with an extra sensitive heart; she told him that the emotions people felt, he felt on a deeper level. But for a majority of his life, he’d only felt happiness. He felt that glittering emotion, sparkling like a diamond submerged in a lake in the afternoon. And this feeling of overwhelming guilt is choking him from inside his body. He’s repelled by it, and even though he just bathed, he feels dirtier than he did before.

The bed is indescribably soft, and the pillows even softer, and Bobby knows if it weren’t for his current predicament, he’d be out cold in a matter of minutes. He’d give anything to fall into that peaceful oblivion right now. “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asks. “I’m a thief, and I’ve deceived so many people.” Patrick sighs, but his back is towards Bobby, so he can’t see the prince’s expression.

“Doing whatever you must to keep you and your loved one’s alive is hardly a crime. In my mind, it cancels out the crime.” Bobby turns around, cheek pressed to the pillow, and closes his eyes. That statement won’t hold when Patrick finds out they were robbed. He’s going to instantly know it was Bobby, and then probably have the king sentence him to life in the dark dungeon.

He mutters something along these lines, and Patrick whirls around. “Did you say something?” He asked, and Bobby gets the feeling that the prince is ready to argue with Bobby on this.

“I said that wouldn’t be your outlook if you were one being robbed.”

“Maybe not, and you’re right because I’ve only ever lived with money, I’ve never been robbed—” Oh, the irony, “—so maybe you are right. Maybe I would hate you then. But I have the money, I have everything I need and more. I don’t see why we don’t give money to the people, to be honest. It really doesn’t make sense.”

Bobby’s left speechless for a moment. He’s never met someone who was so nonchalant and uncaring about his money. He really should have asked, but that would have been embarrassing. Bobby has to go get the stolen items and return them before anyone finds out. But how can he just excuse himself? He slides off the bed, “I need to go, I forgot I had to do something for my boss.” He imagines the words spilling over his shoulders as he rushes out the door. A knot is in his gut as he runs, his feet pounding on the pavement, pushing him forward. Each step fills him with more and more hope.

The doors to the Krustie Krabbe clang open, but Bobby barely flinches. “Mr Krabbes!” He calls out. Surely he’s left the restaurant, it’s late in the night. He checks his office anyways, hoping against all odds that Krabbes is there.

No luck. He grabs a couple of burgers and bags them before heading back out. He's gotta check out Krabbes' house next. The house is small, painted black and white, and Bobby knocks on the wood door. He knocks every couple seconds, desperate to fix his mistake before it gets noticed.

"What is it, boy? You be knockin like some Savage beast be nippin at your heels."

"Mr Krabbes, we made a mistake. We need to go return all the stuff from the palace. The prince—" Krabbes cuts Bobby off quickly, pulling him in the house harshly.

"You got found out by the prince? And yer here, compromising me situation?" Bobby inwardly groans.

"You don't get it, he's not like the king he said he'd give people money if they needed it. We can just ask him for money!" At the mention of money, Krabbes pauses, giving Bobby hope that his boss will give in.

But then he shakes his head. Because of course he would. "No me boy! It's a good idea in theory but he won't be that open with his money once you ask." Bobby's head drops and he looks at his shoes, silently angry.

"Besides, it wouldn't keep us going for long. We got mouths to feed, boy-o, and we can't keep asking the prince for money." He adds in a softer tone.

Bobby sighs and watches as locks of his strawberry blonde hair bounce. "Alright." He replies, turning on his heel. He leaves with a muttered goodnight, and doesn't look back.

The bag of burgers is still clutched in his hand, forgotten but not unwanted, and Bobby keeps his eyes carefully trained on the horizon, pushing out all his thoughts. The palace looms over him, looking more daunting than it previously had, but Bobby scales the wall anyways, miraculously unseen yet again.

He trudges toward the prince's room, heart in his stomach. He could always rob it back from Mr Krabbes, but he doesn't know whether he'd want to risk his job or not. "Patrick," he calls through the door, "I'm back. I brought food too!" He tries to keep his tone light and happy despite not feeling like it. He really is a deceiver.

When the door opens, Bobby walks in, chattering to avoid the gnawing guilt he feels. It isn't until he's seated on the floor, waiting for Patrick to join him that he realizes the prince hasn't said a word. He looks up at Patrick, who's looking at him with a frown, eyebrows scrunched together. "Do you know what happened while you were away?" Is the first thing the taller of the two asks.

Bobby shakes his head, gulping. "The guards found that there were things missing from the palace. Some silverware, some jewelry, some gold. We were robbed. And y'know the name I heard from the guards?" Bobby stays completely still, stiller than he's ever been in his life. The prince continues: "Acro. That's what they said. They said they were sure it had to be Acro because like all of Acro's thefts, everything was put back the way it was, neatly. Almost as though trying to hide that a theft had occurred."

It's true. When he's stealing from the vendors he can't necessarily afford to be meticulous, but on the small handful of home robberies that he's done, he's always made sure to neaten everything up. He looks away from the prince. "Why'd you do it?" He asks, voice laced with sorrow.

This makes Bobby sadder but it also angers him. That's exactly what he was saying to the prince earlier. "I told you you wouldn't get it." Bobby stands up, decreasing the distance between them. "You didn't listen. You have no clue how it is out there or what it feels like to go to bed with an empty stomach, trying to make the best of it because your friends need it more. You don't know how impossible it is to make money out there, you don't know what it's like to essentially be forced to rob and run for your life because you grew up with money, you grew up comfortable."

Bobby's suddenly of his rising voice, his finger poking Patrick's chest, the prince's breath hitting his forehead. He has to contain himself. "I should call the guards." Patrick states icily.

"Do it." Bobby snarls. "I dare you."

The prince narrows his eyebrows, and shouts the word at the top of his lungs and moments later, four guards rush in, grabbing Bobby by the arms. "This boy bothering you, your highness?" One of them states. His voice is deep, smooth like velvet.

"That boy has confessed to me that he is none other than Acro." He States, maintaining eye contact with Bobby.

Bobby can feel the blood leech out of his face, suddenly numb. He can't hear the conversation amidst his shock, and he hardly feels them dragging him away. He's looking at Patrick, who's looking at him. Both of them broken.

The dungeon is cold and damp. It feels grey, sucking out the color of the world, leaving it hollow. The way he feels on the inside. He's curled in a ball in the corner of his cell, trying to piece things together.

He's going to be executed. Day after tomorrow. It's off with his head. He's past crying now, he's just thinking and thinking and thinking. Bobby wishes he'd done everything different. He's hugging his knees to his chest when something clatters to the ground, startling him. The locker.

He face palms. Of course! Why didn't he think of it sooner? Hurriedly, Bobby picks the necklace up, secures it around his neck and rubs it. "What, what do you—where are we?"

"We're in the dungeon and I'm gonna have my head chopped off. They found out I'm the thief they've been searching for. Can you help me?" The genie blinks in surprise. Maybe it's the wild look in Bobby's eyes, or the desperation in his voice, but the glare that was fixed on him by the genie melted off Sheldon’s face, and he nods. “It’ll take a wish, though.”

“Yeah, but I figure that my life is at stake here, probably a good way to use my first wish.” Bobby would smile, but he’s feeling so numb. So empty. So broken.

Sheldon nods, snapping his fingers. When Bobby opens his eyes, the two are in a sandy setting, and in the back of his mind Bobby thinks of the word ‘desert.’ “Where are we?” He asks, fingers digging into the soft grains.

“See that building that’s just barely visible?” Sheldon points into the distance, and if Bobby squints his eyes, he can just barely see a structure. He nods, and Sheldon continues: “Well, that’s where we need to head to. When we get there, I think we’ll find someone who might be able to help.” The mismatched pair head off towards the unknown. Well, unknown to Bobby.

Hours later, they reach their destination, and strains of music hit his ears. There are people flitting to and from, chattering above the music in a tongue he can’t understand. He’s not sure where he is, but he’s relieved he isn’t home for the moment. He’d be a sitting duck, waiting for his demise to come at last. He could just never return, now that he thinks about it. He could stay here, lonely, unable to communicate with those around him. He would be safer.

“Quit your sulking and get a move on.” Bobby’s companion had quit his floating, now walking beside him, dressed in clothes similar to his own.

“I think I earned the right to sulk.” Bobby remarks sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Why, because some guy you knew once upon a time ratted you out and he just so happens to be the prince and love your life?” Sheldon bats his eyes at the last part, mocking Bobby lightly.

“Oh be quiet, you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to finally reunite with an old friend you have feelings for only to mess it up because of who you are.” Bobby sighs, blinking back tears.

Sheldon’s face closes off in the span of a second: “Maybe I understand better than you think.” Bobby studies his companions face for a moment, eyebrows scrunched in thought. “Anyways,” The genie changes the subject, attitude flipping on a dime as they approach the doors to a castle, “Here we are.”

Bobby isn’t exactly sure where here is, but the genie knocks on the wood doors, and when they swing open, the genie and Bobby walk in, greeted by a giant fountain. Sheldon guides Bobby around the fountain, almost as though he knows exactly where he’s going. A couple minutes later, the two reach a door, and Sheldon knocks the door before swinging it open. Bobby’s about to protest and insist they wait for a response, but all his thoughts disappear when he sees the one and only Aladdin lounging on a fainting chair. He sits up when he sees the pair. “Hey guys!” He swings himself off the chair and stands in front of them. He’s a head or so taller than Bobby, and when Aladdin looks at Bobby he appears pained for some reason. “You’re so young.” Are the only words he appears to be able to communicate.

Bobby’s the first to break eye contact. “I’m Bobby Porter. I got into some seriously hot water. I’m scheduled to be executed day after tomorrow. I don’t know what to do, but can you maybe help me?” Aladdin nods, sympathy written on his features.

“I’ll try everything I can, but I don’t know how much help I’ll end up being. My circumstances worked out in the best way possible for me, but that might have been pure luck.” Bobby nods, wishing this didn’t even have to happen at all.

"Alright, so have you tried winning the hand of the princess?" He begins, and Bobby flushes.

"Actually, it's a prince, but yeah, I tried. Kind of. It backfired though.” Intrigued eyes meet Bobby’s sad ones. "I kinda robbed him and his father and he found out it was me and ratted me out." Bobby's cheeks burn, but mostly because it seems so stupid. Why would anyone risk robbing the royal family?

"Oh, that makes things a little tougher." Is the response he gets and Bobby nods somberly.

"Well, you could get him away from the palace and talk things through with him?"

"I tried that already." Bobby replies, irritated and sad.

"Did you try that or did you get defensive? 'Cause it isn't uncommon for thieves like us to get defensive when confronted.” Bobby looks away, which gives the answer off.

“Okay, that answers that,” Aladdin claps his hands, startling Bobby a little. “The good news is I’ve got a plan. But for it to work I need to come too.”

Bobby nods, “I don’t wanna use my second wish to get us back in case we need it for something later.” He’s still so shaken from the thought of his head getting chopped off, the feeling of the cold metal they bound his wrists with on the way to the dungeon burned into his skin, and he can feel the phantom nick of a sharp object caressing his neck. He pushes those thoughts away and focuses on his breathing only. He can’t break down here, not now.

Aladdin seems to sense Bobby’s thoughts veering onto a much darker path, and he interjects into the noise in Bobby’s brain. “We can use my carpet.” Is the simple response given, and Bobby’s vaguely aware of a warm hand on his freckled forearm.

He nods, focusing on that warmth as he stands up and puts on a brave front. “Right, let's get this thing started.”

#the spongebob musical #the spongebob musical live on stage #spongebob #patrick #sandy #mr krabs #squidward #volcano #patbob #spongerick #patbob spongerick

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chibinightowl · 6 years

Note

Hi Chibi! You’re one of my favorite fan fiction writers! Your work is always so genuine and real. I know your prompts are closed so I don’t expect anything but I did want to ask you something. I’ve recently been fired from my job because of my disabilities and a very difficult manager. It’s been so emotionally exhausting and my self esteem is lower than ever. Would ever write something where Jason or Tim get fired from a job? I don’t know imagine it for myself because well, it’s them. -Love, 🐝

With an ask like this, how can I say no? Anon, this may not be exactly what you were hoping for, but the inspiration came from something that happened to me when I was in my mid 20s. It was an extremely stressful and challenging time, but in the end, I made it out in one piece and was all the stronger for it. I hope this helps you find even a glimmer of light in the dark place you’re in.

~*~*~

It took some time to notice something was wrong. After all, Tim was a young and reasonably healthy adult, so why should this even ping on his radar?

But here he was, sitting at his desk working on a report, with his heart racing. It felt like it was about to pound right out of his chest, the thuds so loud he was surprised his cubemate couldn’t hear them too. What was even more surprising though was that he didn’t feel out of breath in the slightest. Tim stopped typing and held two fingers to his wrist, searching for his pulse.

For a solid minute, he counted as his eyes watched the clock hanging on the wall.

94 beats. What the hell? Tim knew he could stand to get out and exercise more, but he wasn’t totally out of shape. Jason made sure of that when he dragged him out of the apartment on the weekend to go jogging together.

Almost as soon as he noticed the loud beat, it faded away. He took his pulse again. 68 beats.

What was going on?

Now that he was aware of it, it was easier to notice when it occurred again. And it did, twice more that day before he went home.

When he told Jason about it, his boyfriend immediately had him sit on the couch and went to get his medical kit. “Times like these makes me glad I keep this stuff at home,” he commented, wrapping a blood pressure cuff over Tim’s skinny arm and taking out his stethoscope.

“I’ll never make fun of you about it again.” Tim breathed regularly as his own personal paramedic took his vitals.

Jason frowned as he wrapped the stethoscope around his neck in a practiced movement. “Everything sounds fine.”

“It’s periodic,” Tim reminded him. “If it happens while we’re home, I’ll let you know.”

“Maybe you should make a doctor appointment anyway.”

Tim shrugged and flopped back into the couch. “Today is the first day I noticed it. Let’s wait a few days and see what happens.”

Jason clearly wasn’t happy with his decision. “Fine. You what this means then, right?”

“What?”

“No sex until it stops.”

Tim threw one of the decorative couch pillows at him.

~*~*~

As much as Tim hoped otherwise, it happened again the next day at work. Three times. And again the day after that.

He sullenly made the call to set up a doctor’s appointment during his lunch break and was able to get in at 3:45 the same day so he took it. Now he had to break the news about leaving early to his supervisor.

Tim tapped quietly on his boss’s office door. “Hey, Sandra. Got a second?”

Sandra was a middle aged woman who Tim personally thought had some OCD tendencies and was completely unsuited to her job. He didn’t know whose ass she kissed, nor did he care. She was nice enough and it wasn’t like he asked for much. “I sure do, Tim. What’s up?” she asked, glancing over the top of her wire rimmed glasses.

He entered and sat down in front of her desk. “I’ve been having something odd going on with my heart these last few days. The beats are completely irregular sometimes, even when I’m just sitting at my desk. I called my doctor and managed to get an appointment this afternoon, so I need to leave early for it.”

“My goodness!” Sandra exclaimed, giving him a closer look. “You’re too young to be having heart problems.”

Tim smiled wanly. “That’s what I said.”

“Your boyfriend is a paramedic, right? Have you told him?”

“Yes, and he checked me out best he could at home. Said I should have called for an appointment two days ago.”

Sandra nodded firmly. “I agree 100%. My husband has high blood pressure, it’s no laughing matter. Go get that checked out. You can always stay late tomorrow to make up the time if you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Tim said, rising to his feet. The flu went through the office last month and wiped out a good chunk of his accrued sick time.

“I just want you feeling better soon, Tim. You’re a great asset to this team and a good person.”

More like someone who saved her ass when she screwed up, but Tim took the compliment as it was meant. He had other things to worry about.

~*~*~

“You want me to what?” Tim asked incredulously as he buttoned his shirt.

“I want you to see a cardiologist, Tim,” Dr. Thompkins repeated.

“I am 25 years old. I’m too young to have heart problems.”

The old doctor shrugged. “Then do nothing and if you have a heart attack, I can give you this referral again.” She held up a piece of paper.

Tim snatched it from her and sighed heavily. This was why he liked Dr. Thompkins. She didn’t try to sugarcoat things. “No thanks. Jason would drag me himself if I didn’t go.”

“And that’s why your boyfriend is smarter than you. I’m sure he sees a lot of heart attacks in his line of work.” The doctor sat down next to him on the exam table. “Tim, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. Whatever is going with your heart is not normal for a healthy adult male of your age. It’ll take a few days for the bloodwork to come back. I’ll send the referral and the results to Dr. Sheldon.”

“Will it take long to get in?” Tim asked somberly. This was becoming all too real. What was wrong with him?

“I doubt it. Especially since I’m calling Lynn directly to let her know about the unusual case I’m sending over. It’s not every day a cardiologist sees someone like you.”

That didn’t make Tim feel any better.

~*~*~

It still took a week to get in to see Dr. Sheldon. During that time, Tim averaged at least two of the irregular heartbeat episodes per day, even on the weekend when he was home. He’d made Jason aware of it the one time it happened while he was home from work and his boyfriend immediately grabbed his stethoscope and pressure cuff to get a reading. He took Tim’s blood pressure twice.

Jason had looked confused when the episode ended. “That was 102 beats per minute and here you are sitting all calm like nothing is going on. Even your blood pressure is within the normal range. Maybe a little closer to the higher end, but still normal.”

“Are you coming with me to the cardiologist then?” Tim had asked.

“Hell, yeah.”

Tim was grateful for Jason’s presence in the office while he met with Dr. Sheldon. The doctor was in her mid-fifties, tall, and blonde. She had a no nonsense air about her, but her kind smile helped put him at ease.

“Tell me about what kind of work you do, Mr. Drake,” the doctor asked, leaning against the small cabinet and sink after she was finished with the physical side of the exam.

“It’s an office job. I’ve got a finance degree, so I spend most of my time analyzing data and writing up reports.”

“Is it stressful?” Dr. Sheldon probed.

Tim shook his head. “Not really. I’m good at it. The hours are regular and the pay is good.”

“What about the work environment?”

“It’s an office,” Tim replied with a shrug. “We’ve got ups and downs and the occasional crazy day. I don’t have any issues with most of my colleagues.”

Jason snorted and rolled his eyes.

The reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Dr. Sheldon. “I take it you have something to add about that?”

“There is an office problem child,” Jason said, shooting Tim an apologetic glance. “Tim’s been with them for almost a year now, but he got a new manager about four months ago. She seems to cause more problems than not.”

The doctor narrowed her eyes as she turned her attention back to Tim. “Really, now?”

Tim frowned and shot Jason a dirty look, even though he could see how this was important. “It’s gotten better,” he offered. “At first, she didn’t know her left hand from her right. She spent a lot of time sitting with all of us to learn what it is we do and how our roles played into hers. I felt like she sat with me more often than the others and she seems to come to me instead of the more tenured analysts whenever something happens.”

“You’re her problem solver,” Dr. Sheldon stated plainly. “Is that stressful?”

“Sometimes? None of the other analysts want to deal with her at all.” The days where he didn’t have to fix one of Sandra’s screw ups were good days in his book. “I think she may have bitten off more than she can chew when she got transferred to my department. Whenever I’m fixing her mess, she hovers.”

The doctor nodded slowly. “Okay. Well, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re clearly not having one of these episodes right now, so we’re going to hook you up with a Holter monitor and see if we can’t catch one.”

“A what?”

Jason stepped in to explain. “It’s a portable heart monitor that records everything going on with your ticker for a short period of time, usually 24 hours.”

Dr. Sheldon nodded approvingly. “I’ve had people wear it for as long as 72 hours if the arrhythmia is particularly irregular, but you said you have at least two episodes a day, so we’ll get you hooked up this afternoon. I want you to wear it all day tomorrow and stop by tomorrow evening to drop it off. Depending on what it records, I’ll schedule more tests.”

So that was how Tim found himself at work the next day with a heart monitor hooked onto his belt. The lead lines ran out from under his dress shirt through a gap between the bottommost buttons to the top of the machine. His jacket helped hide the device, but he couldn’t wear it forever.

Sandra somehow spotted the monitor and immediately called him into her office. “Oh, my goodness, Tim! Did they find anything wrong?” she all but gushed as he sat down.

“Not at the moment. I was fine while I was in there. Isn’t that always the way things seem to happen?” Tim replied, trying for some levity. Now that the whole stress idea had been brought to his attention, he could admit he did find sitting here to be rather stressful.

“It sure does,” Sandra agreed sagely before launching into another story about her husband and his blood pressure.

These were stories Tim had spent a great deal of time hearing for the last week and he resisted the urge to interrupt and remind his manager of that. His patience for her in general was wearing thin. As he sat there though, Tim suddenly noticed something.

His heart was racing for the first time since the visit to the cardiologist yesterday. The little box was catching it all.

~*~*~

Tim returned the monitor to the doctor’s office and two days later got a call to schedule a stress test and an electrocardiograph.

Jason flopped down heavily next to Tim on the couch when he got home that night and heard the news. “Fuck, Dr. Sheldon must have found something concerning if she’s having you do both of those.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, setting down his tablet on the coffee table so he could curl up next to the space heater that was his boyfriend. “Jay, what if something is wrong? I mean, seriously wrong with me?” He started shifting nervously.

“The only thing wrong with you is that you overthink things.” Jason placed his hand against Tim’s head to hold him still. “Are you worried that I’m going to give all this up if it turns out you only have like six months to live or something?”

Trust Jason to see right to the heart of the matter. “Maybe,” Tim admitted quietly. There had been a few random thoughts to that effect. It was just who he was, thinking and analyzing, playing out different scenarios in his head. Not exactly the best way to spend the time on the subway to and from the office, but what else did he have to do?

Jason gently kissed the crown of Tim’s head. “Babe, you’re not getting rid of me and I sure as fuck have no plans to leave you if the shit hits the fan. Besides, if things do get rough and you need a nurse, who else is gonna dress up for you?”

Tim laughed and shoved Jason hard. The teasing helped lighten his mood though, which was exactly what he needed. “There had better be stockings and a garter belt,” he quipped, imagining Jason in one of those sexy nurse uniforms. They didn’t mind a little role play in the bedroom sometimes. “Maybe even some lacy panties.”

“They’ll be fire engine red, just for you.”

~*~*~

The stress test came back negative, so Dr. Sheldon had Tim wear the heart monitor again until he could take the EKG a couple days later so that she could get a longer period of time to review. Over the course of those days, he had six of the damn episodes.

A technician administered the EKG while the doctor reviewed the recordings of Tim’s heartbeat. Tim laid on the exam table and tried not to think about anything as more electrodes were connected to his body. This entire experience was more mentally exhausting than anything else.

After the test was over, Dr. Sheldon came into the room to speak with him. “Mr. Drake, I’ll take a look at the EKG results here soon, but after what I retrieved from the Holter monitor, I think it may be a good idea to start a low dose of blood pressure medication.”

“But you’ve said my blood pressure is fine,” Tim said as he tugged his sweater vest back on over his dress shirt. The EKG was early enough in the day that he’d go to work after this.

“It is. However, you’ve got a definite uptick in your blood pressure during these periods of arrhythmia. It’s not dangerously high, but it is at the higher end of normal.”

Tim remembered Jason saying that same thing a couple weeks ago. “The medication is to lower my blood pressure then?”

Dr. Sheldon nodded and handed him a prescription. “We’ll start with this and see if it helps. I can tell you right now that you may experience some periods of wooziness since you do have mostly normal blood pressure. How are things going at work?”

The change in subject made Tim smile thinly. “Stressful, now that you mention it. My manager hovers even more now out of concern.”

“When was the last time you took a vacation?”

“Does having the flu for a week count?”

“Nice try.”

~*~*~

Tim discovered almost immediately that the dizziness the doctor warned him about wasn’t just periodic. It was almost all the time. Thankfully, the pharmacist and Dr. Sheldon had said he could cut these pills in half if it got too bad and could take a smaller dose every six hours. He started doing this after the first night where he ended up so lightheaded that he fell asleep insanely early and left his phone and its obnoxious alarm in the living room after he stumbled his way to bed. He’d been late to work the next day and had to sit through one of Sandra’s annoying stories about her husband.

It was small wonder the woman’s husband had high blood pressure though if this was what he had to deal with at home. He knew Sandra meant well, but it was clear as day that her emotional intelligence needed some work.

Still, even with the adjustment made to the medication, the dizziness and lightheadedness were almost constant companions.

The EKG test came back normal and Dr. Sheldon was at a loss over how to explain what was occurring with Tim’s heart. The medication did appear to be helping with the arrhythmia though, as Tim noticed he was down to maybe one episode per day. But the side effects were making it more and more difficult to do his job. There was more than one incident where he slept through his alarm and a couple times, Tim purposefully shut it off so he could just go back to sleep.

Needless to say, those were days when Jason wasn’t home.

When he did make it to work, Tim stared blearily at his screen as he tried to make sense of numbers and charts that were usually so easy for him to pick apart and dissect. Coffee wasn’t something that helped and more than once he found himself jerking awake when his cubemate jostled the back of his chair.

Things came to a head one afternoon when Sandra woke him up. “Tim, we need to talk.”

Tim nodded blearily, already knowing this wasn’t going to be one of those meandering speeches his boss loved to deliver. He followed her into the office and sat down heavily in the chair.

Sandra adjusted her glasses and folded her hands, trying for that matronly boss vibe she loved so much. “Tim, I know you’re going through a lot right now and that you’ve got the documentation to prove it, but I just got a call from the HR manager. Do you know how much time you’ve missed in the last four weeks?”

Had it been a month already? “I know I’ve missed a few days since I started the medication, and I made up the hours for when I was at an appointment.”

“But you’ve also been coming in late and those are hours I can’t let you make up. The occurrences keep piling up and now I’m afraid I have to give you a warning. Tim, if you miss another day of work or are late again, I have no choice but to let you go.”

It was a sign of just how out of it Tim was that the words didn’t register immediately. “What? But that’s not fair! I’m doing everything I can to do my job while the doctor figures out what’s wrong with me.”

“I know, Tim,” Sandra said soothingly. “I know. I wish there was something I could do, but I just don’t have the clout with HR to pull any strings.”

That was bullshit. She had lunch once a week with the HR manager and everyone on the team knew it. “What about that disability leave I’ve heard about?”

“FMLA? While you’ve worked the required number of hours to qualify for it before this started happening, you haven’t been with the company for a full year yet. It’s a rolling year at least, but you still have about six weeks before that anniversary.”

Now Tim was pissed. His heart started racing as adrenaline fueled it and for the first time since he started his meds, his head was clear. “So what am I supposed to do then? Stop taking my medicine because it’s keeping me from doing my job properly even though it’s keeping my heart beating normally? The HR manager does know I need to have a heartbeat to be here, right?”

Sandra sighed heavily. “I’m truly on your side, Tim. I really am. But the rules are the same for everyone. I know you’re upset right now, so why don’t you take a few minutes to go get some fresh air and calm down. Things have a way of working themselves out. You’ll see.”

Tim wanted to take what the woman clearly thought was sage advice and shove it up her ass. Rather than risk opening his mouth, he nodded stiffly and left the office.

This was not good. Not good at all. Tim wandered into one of the employee lounges and, despite the snow swirling lightly outside, stepped out onto the narrow balcony. The air was freezing, and he rubbed his arms through his thin dress shirt, already wishing he had remembered to grab a jacket. Still, the cold helped leech away his anger and replaced it with simmering resentment instead.

How could this be happening to him? He’d done everything he was supposed to and made sure to submit all the proper documentation for the majority of his absences. Dr. Sheldon had even included in the paperwork that there could be periodic days where he missed work due to his treatment. Instead of being treated like a human being, he was having it shoved in his face just how much of a cog in the wheel he really was. A body at a desk rather than a person.

Perhaps he should have taken that position at Wayne Enterprises in their finance department. He’d been swayed by the better pay here and it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

Tim sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. Now that he was calming down, the familiar lethargy was returning full force. He was so tired. Tired of not knowing what was wrong with him. Tired of all the stress the uncertainty brought with it. Hell, he was tired of cleaning up after Sandra’s messes. Who would she tap on the shoulder to help her next if he’s fired?

He leaned against the glass door and watched the snow blow through the narrow corridor between this building and the next. The wind tossed it every which way, never giving it a chance to land. In the distance, Tim heard a dull roaring that reminded him of a jet engine coming to life. Despite the cold, he felt warmer even though he kept his hands tucked up under his arms. It was snowing after all.

The snow looked so pretty and white. It hadn’t had a chance to be tainted yet by the street below.

Tim blinked heavily. The roaring was growing louder. Was there a train coming? How did it get all the way up here?

He closed his eyes and listened as the train finally caught up with him.

~*~*~

Later on, Tim was told that one of his colleagues found him slumped over unconscious on the freezing balcony when he’d stepped outside for a quick smoke. They weren’t sure how long he’d been there, but his lips were blue and he was barely breathing.

Hypothermia on top of passing out due to his already low blood pressure. Fun times.

Jason was there when Tim woke up in the hospital. He was still a little out of it, but the emergency room doctor cleared him to go home. Tim fell back to sleep almost as soon as they arrived and didn’t wake up again for several more hours.

When he did, the full force of what just happened struck him like the train he thought he heard outside earlier. “Fuck,” he muttered and rolled over to bury his face in the mountain of pillows Jason apparently decided he needed to be comfortable. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jason must have been in the room because the mattress sank as he sat down next to Tim. “As much as I love hearing you use coherent words again, that’s usually one that comes outta my mouth instead than yours.”

Tim raised his head enough to glare at his boyfriend. “I don’t have a job anymore,” he announced.

“The fuck?” Jason’s eyes crinkled in concern. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I had a lovely meeting with Sandra this afternoon before I wandered my happy ass outside to nearly freeze to death.” He told Jason what had happened.

Jason shook his head, the color rising in his cheeks as he tried to suppress his own anger. “Goddammit. And you really think that passing out at work is the icing on the cake?”

“Considering what I was told before I did, I see no reason why it wouldn’t.” Tim buried his face back in the pillow. Suffocating sounded like a great way to go and end his misery, but it wasn’t as though his paramedic boyfriend would let him. He rolled back over to gaze up at Jason. “Jay, I don’t know what to do. Everything has gone all to hell since the arrhythmia started and I’m just so tired of it all. And that’s saying something since all I do is sleep these days.”

“Tim, there’s no reason why you need to stay there. Quit before you get fired. We’ve got some money tucked away. You can do that website design stuff you did in college to get extra cash while you job hunt.” It sounded like Jason had been thinking about this already.

“But that means you’ll have to pick up extra shifts at the station. You work hard enough as it is, you deserve your time off,” Tim protested. “I refuse to be a freeloader.”

Jason bent over and sealed his mouth over Tim’s to shut him up and distract him for a moment. “You have too strong of a work ethic to ever be a freeloader, babe. I bet that if you send in your resignation letter tonight, you’re gonna have a new job in less than a month.”

Tim scowled, even though he would admit that Jason’s faith in his marketable skills was warming. Or perhaps that was the hot water bottle tucked under his feet. “I bet there’s already an email waiting for me telling me to pack my shit and go.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Just don’t forget your stapler,” Jason replied with a grin. “It’s red, right?”

~*~*~

Ten days later, Tim had just finished removing his first ever homemade chicken pot pie out of the oven when he heard the front door open. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted Jason staggering his way inside. He’d just pulled a double shift and was clearly running on fumes.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Tim called out. “Go take a shower while it cools down.”

“That smells awesome, whatever it is,” Jason said as he dropped his duffel. “Been spending time on YouTube again?”

“How else do you expect me to feed you properly?” Tim retorted with an easy grin. Multitasking in the kitchen was still beyond him, so he’d cooked each component separately before tossing them all into the dish and laid strips of puff pastry over the top. He was rather proud of how it turned out.

Rather than head to their bedroom, Jason made his way into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist and stooped over to rest his chin on his shoulder. “I think I’ll hire you as my personal chef.”

“Shouldn’t you taste it first?”

Warm lips nipped at the side of Tim’s neck. “I think you taste great. All you need is a frilly little apron and you’re set.”

Tim chuckled as he leaned into Jason. “You know, I never did get to see you in that nurse costume. All I got was you in your GCFD shirt and sweatpants.”

“Hey, I rock this shirt and you know it.” Jason licked a stripe up the other side of his neck. “I suppose fair is fair though. And I did buy those panties I promised you.”

This was the first time in over a month that Jason had approached Tim for anything more than a kiss so the ache in his body was hardly surprising. He’d taken Jason up on his bet and quit his job before they could tell him that he was fired. It had been terrifying, sending the email to Sandra and the HR manager, but the overwhelming sense of relief he felt after clicking on send made Tim realize it was the right thing to do.

His heart must have agreed because in the days since, there had not been a single arrhythmic episode and he’d stopped taking the blood pressure medication as well. Jason still kept tabs on him when he was home, but aside from that first day where Tim slept off the residual effects of hypothermia, he felt fine.

Dr. Sheldon had personally called to check in on him after she heard about what happened from Dr. Thompkins. “Isn’t it amazing what stress can do to a person?” she’d said. “I’m more certain than ever this was your body’s way of telling you to get out of a bad place.”

Tim was very inclined to agree with her.

Later on, Tim laid in bed spooning against Jason. No one ever believed that the taller man was more often the little spoon than the big one. “Guess who I got a call from this afternoon?” he asked, idly tracing a pattern into the bare skin over Jason’s hip.

“Who?” Jason murmured sleepily.

“A talent acquisition manager at Wayne Enterprises. I have an interview on Thursday with the head of their Accounting and Finance department.”

Jason stirred in his arms. “The department head?”

“Yes.” Tim gently kissed the warm skin on Jason’s shoulder. “I apparently have enough experience now that I can be considered for a supervisory position.”

Jason’s deep rich laugh echoed through the bedroom. “Now isn’t that just a giant fuck you to that bitch. I feel like I should send her a thank you card with a picture of my middle finger.”

“I haven’t gotten the job yet,” Tim reminded him.

“You will,” Jason said with certainty. “Looks like I may be losing my personal chef sooner than I thought.”

“You can still get me that apron.”

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Hurt/Comfort #Long Oneshot #JayTim #No Capes AU

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caltropspress · 3 years

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Notes on AKAI SOLO’s Eleventh Wind

Rhythm in poetry need not be “smooth” or “musical” (since that word has a questionable meaning). Be cautious of these descriptions as a so-called “good ear.”

—“Manifesto” from Russell Atkins’ Juxtapositions

I try to become really liquid with the shit—not even liquid. I try to become formless.

—AKAI SOLO

Always the same thing. A drop of hope glimmers, then a sea of despair begins to rage, and always the pain, always the pain, always the anguish, always one and the same thing.

—Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilyich

I've been robbing motherfuckers since the slave ships.

—The Notorious B.I.G., “Gimme the Loot”

There’s an “unfinished” aesthetic (I mean it gently, fondly) to AKAI SOLO’s work. His rhymes often start in medias res. The listener needs to become oriented to what he’s spewing, but he barely allows you to catch your breath. For anyone who’s ever been thrown [au]topsy-turvy by an ocean’s wave, you can respect the power of the primordial soup flow. Each verse is a wipeout. It’s Ron Wilson’s relentless drums on the Surfaris’ 1963 “Wipe Out” and the Fat Boys’ rollicking 1987 version all at once—joy pulled from despair.

2. “…a sunken system”

What is flow? In AKAI’s case, it’s something abrupt—both a step-up and a step-to. Is it free-form? Is it automatic writing gone horribly wrong? Is it asemic writing? Is it a Ouija-like push of the pen across the page? A flower doodled on scrap paper? Is it AKAI’s language acquisition happening in real time—a babbling? It’s not an infantile flow, though. Mannish boy? Man-child? It sometimes sounds like lips smacking of Mississippi mud. Think of AKAI on Shrine’s “Parables” (which begins with the lapping of waves—not the babbling brook): he takes “a deep sea soak in plasma.” The structure and borders of AKAI’s bars are liquid (formless); his words wash over.

3. “Pondering of the painter in between strokes.” (An Unknown Infinite, “Concrete Slides”)

Who’s out of pocket? Geochemistry tells us small pockets of water pulsate deep below the Earth’s surface. I find AKAI to be offbeat in both senses of the word. He’s both outré and outer space. Antediluvian and FEMA flood recovery plan. His bars rupture the very notion of time, of meter. To rap along with AKAI is to have an out-of-body experience—our neuroscience skitters and we gain an astral perspective on what the physical mouth is doing. Sheldon Pearce has called AKAI’s verses “impressionistic.” Plugging into AKAI’s music is to induce the Stendhal syndrome—beholding the sublimity of Claude Monet’s Impression, Sunrise, but—more accurately—Calida Garcia Rawles’ Singularity, seeing as how AKAI keeps it hyper-real. He “signs” nearly all his songs—another painterly touch.

4. The Earth is a great place to visit, but I ain't stayin’. (J-Ro, The Alkaholiks)

AKAI SOLO is for the antisocial kid who quotes Bruce Lee under their yearbook photo: Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless—like water. Water is everywhere on Eleventh Wind, even if the album title suggests other elemental forces. AKAI sometimes slurs, but not drunkenly—this isn’t some stumbling and staggering likwidation: it’s a reflection of your own grogginess, your own inertia from sleeping on his flow. There are oceans between J.M.W. Turner’s The Slave Ship and the “Big Pimpin’” of Jay-Z, but AKAI’s poetics bridge the two. He comes at us, off-kilter, aslant, like the uneasy and queasy cover art for O.G.C.’s Da Storm.

5. “…a ship came, seeking harbour, fleeing from torture & swords” (from Kamau Brathwaite’s “Noom”)

The content often defies logical reasoning. He spits non-sequiturs in a literal sense, in that he does not follow. He machetes his own path (cutlass, more likely). AKAI is Cappadonna with his words—his slang is editorial, and it floods similarly. Zilla Rocca has called Cappadonna’s work “a waterfall of energy and creativity.” The same, seriously, could be applied to AKAI SOLO. I’ll call it logorrhea—and I don’t mean that pejoratively. It’s the seasickness you stomach so you can see the sunset from hundreds of miles off land.

The songs on Eleventh Wind are essentially single verses. There’s no middle eight, only an interminable Middle Passage. And water is everywhere.

AKAI’s lineage traces to the same cove you’d find Mr. Complex and Saafir washed ashore. Like those predecessors, his un-rhymes and rhythm-driven bars beat against the rocks, ebbing just when you think he’s flowing. He’s an H2O proof MC. He’s Black hydropower, and, like the ancestors, AKAI continues to speak of rivers, of swerve of shore to bend of bay.

On “An Ode to the Isolated,” argov’s production sounds submerged, certifiably Cousteau. We’re immediately in the deep, and the beat platforms AKAI’s aqua-lung breath control. He’s “in a den of dissonance dissolving,” which puts language to what’s happening sonically here better than a critic ever could. AKAI is “overwhelmed by your deep blueness”—the vast blue sea. These are pandemic blues. The Covid-minded lyric, “Masks donned as requested,” doubles as the masculine trap to swallow pain, smothering emotion in gritty sand, while still forward-facing a street persona. AKAI has acknowledged Eleventh Wind was, in part, generated from a depressive state.

[Testimony of John Cranston, a sailor upon the Polly, describing a slave woman hoisted down to sea from the mainmast in a chair after being isolated for small pox, June 15, 1791]

Q: Did you not hear her speak or make any Noises when she was thrown over—or see her struggle? A: No—a Mask was ty’d round her mouth & Eyes that she could not, & it was done to prevent her making any Noise that the other Slaves might not hear, least they should rise. Q: Do you recollect to hear the Capt. say any thing after the scene was ended? A: All he said was he was sorry he had lost so good a Chair. Q: Did any person endeavour to prevent him throwing her [over]board? A: No.

“Tetsuo” draws on Tsukamoto’s trilogy of cyberpunk perversity. How AKAI could feel “washed before the water touch the skin” is beyond me, as the skin crawls with maggots. The penetration of metal rods, but no tetanus—no lockjaw. Only body horror flow. He’s sketching futures—and all of them are nightmarish: “Surrounded by a blanket of ashes, / We all fall down like that one song said we would.” AKAI vaguely alludes to a plague rhyme of yore. And the uncertainties we’re living with come through even in his drafts, as the liner notes on PTP’s cassette release of the album provide a set of lyric options: “Surrounded by a sea/bed/blanket…” Choose your own misadventure.

9. From at least the sixteenth century onward, a major part of the ocean engineering of ships has been to...minimize the wake. But the effect of trauma is the opposite. It is to make maximal the wake. (Christina Sharpe, In the Wake: On Blackness and Being)

On “Tainted,” AKAI—young as he may be—identifies the foolishness of some of his peers: “N----s wanna toast on a slave ship / …sinking with the drink.” AKAI suggests they’re still on the slave ship, ignorant of the fact. When he goes off on a paranoid tangent full of what seem to be elementary internal rhymes, it’s anything but: “hitting a lark / in the dark / in the park / skill a shark / or a narc / ill a mark on his job every time.” This litany of monosyllabic rhymes sounds an alarm.

10. “Even though the vessels differ, we’re all still sailing. / …navigation through suffering.”

“Still Sailing” acts as a centerpiece for the water imagery on Eleventh Wind. It’s also a self-assessment of his style. The “wavelength irregular” puns on wave and owns the irregular flow; “my groove goofy,” he admits. His vulnerability is stunning, refreshing: “I was ensuring my work was worth something.” Such vulnerability is liquid, is flux, reflects reality:

In a dirt sea, all I am is a seed Reaching for what I mean to Rooted in what it is, galvanized by what can be.

Even AKAI’s other nature metaphors—like earth (be it rare-earth or “Real Earth,” no matter), seeds, and roots—are built on water ones (“dirt sea”). This is Wallace Stevens-level abstraction. “Flowing like katanas of grass / Landscaping through with blazing sound waves” does it again (“flowing”/“grass”). And, of course, the mention of flowing katanas invites a Liquid Swords comparison. With the even cuts of AKAI’s sharp lyrics, it’s warranted.

I want to feel like Vast Aire, “like Moses with a staff that parts the Red Sea,” but it’s not so simple. Meaning is slippery on the album—hard to get your footing, your sea legs. Listeners are pulled into rip-tides and torn asunder, repeatedly. AKAI’s songs are raw—not in a hardcore way—in a work-in-progress sense, the way some of the most sincere songs humans have recorded are at times unfinished ones. Like Dylan’s “Santa Fe,” for instance, where the words converge into a slurry.

11. “Your water heavier than it’s supposed to be and they know that.”

On “Candor,” AKAI speaks on the burden of family discord, a “dilemma with me and mines.” In venting, he channels and subverts LL Cool J: “Don’t call it a comeback / These are just preliminary steps / On your back like structural racism is.” Where LL foregrounded his pugnacious masculinity, masking his insecurities (all the while calling for his “Mama”), AKAI is more likely to allow his tears to rain down like a monsoon. Candor has its origins in kand, meaning “to shine.” AKAI’s words offer glimmers of clarity, of openness.

12. “Depression stirs me before the morning chirps.”

Eleventh Wind closes with “Nebula”—gases flow, dust is bathed in glowing starlight. Again, we’re persevering: “Sound like nil singing / Feeling like nebula unraveling / Feeling like infinity expanding.” The consecutive gerunds emphasize AKAI’s desperation. He’s nihilistic here, nonexistent (“nil”) and grasping for meaning. In that way, he’s not so different from us approaching his music. Whether people are hot or cold, irate or aloof, he turns to water for comfort: “When I want to feel the heat I don’t get from people, I resort to water. / When I want to feel the cold I know people for, I resort to water.” AKAI SOLO doesn’t just bless us, he christens us.

Images:

The Fat Boys & The Beach Boys, “Wipeout” music video (screen shot) | The Surfaris, “Wipe Out” 12” (Decca, 1963) | Fat Boys, “Wipeout!” 12” (Tin Pan Apple, 1987) | Jay-Z, “Big Pimpin’” music video (screen shot) | J.M.W. Turner, The Slave Ship (1840) | Originoo Gunn Clappaz, Da Storm cassette cover (Duck Down/Priority Records, 1996) | Claudia Garcia Rawles, Singularity (2018) | The Alkaholiks, Likwidation album cover (Loud, 1997) | James Neagle, Frontispiece for the Dying Negro (1793) | Screen shot from Tetsuo II: Body Hammer (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1992) | Hokusai, Feminine Wave (1845) | Carina Nebula, NASA, ESA, and the Hubble SM4 ERO Team | Claude Monet, Impression, Sunrise (1872)

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rhaenyradragon · 7 years

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Shamy in 11x10 (review)

"Amy, i never thought that i'd want to marry anyone. So, the fact that i found you is astonishing. It's like finding dark matter, except they are looking for dark matter. I wasn't even looking for you. So you're even better than dark matter. When you make a discovery like this, you tell the whole world". AWWWN, Sheldon's speech was perfect! ❤

I agree about this being one of the best episodes this season, and probably my favorite one along with episode 11x01.

Well, we had our season 10 Sheldon and our Season 10 Shamy back this episode and it was AMAZING.

Their last scene together was one of the most sweet and romantic shamy moments, and it was perfect in Sheldon's character to have that observation.

The way Sheldon looks at Amy when she's not looking. It's so special, it's unique. He looks at her as the most precious thing in the whole world and this is exactly what he said in his speech. Like, finding her was the best thing that happened in his life. He literally SAID THAT. And the fact that he compared Amy to dark matter, omg..my heart.

Like Mayim said in her recap video on youtube: "Him comparing her to dark matter was one of the sweetest things our writers have ever written for Sheldon to say to Amy". And i completely agree. It was so Sheldon in the most adorable way. And it was this Sheldon right here that i was missing the most in season 11 in those last episodes. Hopefully from now on the writers will continue the consistency having more of our adorable season 10 sheldon.

p.s1: Really interesting that Mayim mentioned that they did several takes of their kiss in this episode. She was talking about the lip gloss that amy would use in that scene, but it would ended up being in Jim's face on all their takes for their kiss

so they used lip stain (very interesting). Which mayim said it is very fancy, and doesn't come out easy on kissing. haha . I loved when she says in recaps all those interesting facts of BTS moments.

p.s2: Loved all the star wars references again this episode. Including Sheldon talking about the new movie.

And yay for our big shamy wedding coming in full force!!

#shamy #sheldon cooper #amy farrah fowler #tbbt #recap #season 11 #11x10 #<33

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chiefdefendofcherryblossom · 4 years

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NABC Writer’s Challenge

Good evening my fellow writers! I’m sorry I wasn’t able to post earlier, it’s been stressful and hectic. How’d your 1000 word ramble go? Here’s mine:

My demon probably wasn’t going to agree.

“I’m going, Barney.”

The spirit hovering by me glowered. “Don’t call me that! How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Barnabus! And I will not let you!”

“Barnabus,” I grumbled under my breath as I shoved things into my suitcase. “A lovely name for a lovely young demon.”

Barnabus’s aura didn’t darken like it did when he was really ticked at me. Instead, he sighed. “I’m your guardian angel, Dern. No demon.”

“Really? Well, you might want to take a refresher course in angelic qualities. You don’t even remotely bring angel to mind, let alone angelic guardian.”

I probably shouldn’t taunt the powerful being like I did. But he was being annoying, so I was going to be annoying back.

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Think about it! I can test the first real-life time machine. The pay will set us up for years. And I already bought the ticket.”

I glanced around. I’d packed everything, hadn’t I?

“You want to know why they pay so well? To attract idiots like you to be lost forever in time! How’d you like to live out your life stuck in the 1100s? And think about me, Dern! This really makes it very hard to keep you safe. It’s better to not go.” he nodded, as if he’d settled the matter.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked to the door, putting on my coat. I ran through my mental list. Keys, ticket, wallet, check.

“Well, Barney, you can stay if it makes you all that happy.” I opened the door and let myself out, smiling tauntingly.

Grumbling, he floated to my side. “I knew you’d change your mind,” I said, locking the door to my one-bedroom apartment shut. “Boy, am I glad to leave this place.”

“And you expect certain death to be better?” Barnabus demanded.

I grinned. “There’s no death in the contract, let alone certain. And even that’s got to be better than what we’ve got. If life were food,” I explained nonchalantly as we walked to the car, “Mine would be that bland, awful oatmeal mush that Dad used to make, and yours something that’s making the fridge smell like mold. Compared to that, even McDonalds would be good.”

I slid into the driver’s seat of my blue truck. “Which means that death, even if it isn’t certain, is an upgrade! If we don’t die, it’s still a win-win.”

Barnabus rolled his eyes. His spheres of angelic sight must be loose, they’d fall out of his head soon. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so cranky - he wouldn’t be able to jump at shadows at every corner. Or maybe, he’d be even worse, because with no sight, all you’d see was shadows, right? So maybe I didn’t want to go there after all. “Need me to fix that?” I said.

Barnabus frowned. “What?”

“Looks like a few of your screws are loose,” I told him, spinning the wheel for a right turn. “Wouldn’t want those eyes to fall out and make you even more cynical.”

Barnabus’ only response was, “I can’t believe I still like you, Dern.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I’m a charmer, huh? A bad influence, too. Double points for me.”

I adjusted my rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of my reflection.

Tall, lanky boy with thick, unruly blond hair, smirking at the empty space where Barnabus’ reflection should be.

“What makes me so special that I get my own demon?” I asked. “Or does everyone get a demon and nobody knows? That doesn’t seem like it’d work so well.”

Barnabus paused.

“Well, when your mother died…”

I swallowed. “Yeah?”

“She, well, wanted me to look after you.”

“Why didn’t she come do that herself?” My tone had more bite than I meant it to.

“That’s not how it works, Dern. She...she’s busy.”

“Busy? She’s dead. She should have plenty of time for me now.” I scoffed. “Even dead, I’m second priority.”

I readjusted my mirror, so I couldn’t see Barnabus’s expression and flustered hand movements. Why did it irritate me so much?

“Anyways...most people don’t have one specific guardian assigned to them. You’re a special case, Dern.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, turning left. “So I’ve always been told.”

It’s not bad, Dern. You’re just...special.

Us? We’re the disabled kids. Otherwise known as ‘special.’

Would you cut it out, Dern? You always act as though you’re so special!

I’m here to help your...special case.

When will you start acting like a normal child?!

“So special.” I murmured, flicking off my blinker.

Barnabus sighed. “I’m sorry, Dern.”

I stared at the picture that I’d taped next to my speedometer. Clara had her dark red hair tied in a messy bun, tongue wagging, left arm draped over my shoulders. I was laughing. Everything’s easier if you laugh, she’d told me.

I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Few people can be like I can.”

Reporting to the lab was exciting. Even Barnabus didn’t complain, taking in the movie-like surroundings. Pristine office, official workers buzzing around. I walked up to the counter and flashed my ticket. “Dern Reddcunt. I’m here to test the time machine?”

The short lady at the desk looked me over disapprovingly. “Uh-huh...one moment.” She clicked away on her computer for a few minutes, long enough for me to get bored, which, granted, wasn’t very long. I blew into Barnabus’s face, and he crackled lightning into mine.

I looked up as a little kid pushed through the doorway and looked over the lady’s shoulder.

“A kid?” Barnabus whispered. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with Metallica on it. His black hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a month, there were dark circles under his green eyes, and he held a huge cup of what I assumed was coffee. Despite all this, there was that wiry grin that most tweenagers have, and he seemed rather energetic.

“So this is my guy, huh, Ariel?”

The lady nodded. “Dern Reddcunt.”

I frowned. “Your guy? But you’re -”

The boy grinned, raising his mug. “A dweeby kid?”

I nodded. “Exactly. And you don’t look like you belong...here.” I glanced over my surroundings of white lights, whiter walls, crisp business suits - and back at him. Nope, he definitely didn’t match.

His eyes looked like static electricity trapped in a bottle. He smirked. “I’m Alistair Sheldon, and I invented the time machine. And I’ve just employed you to test it.”

He glanced back at the desk lady. “See ya, Ariel.” he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Come on, kid.” he pulled open the door to what looked like a broom closet.

“Kid?” I grinned at his snark, jumping after him.

He shrugged. “People always called me that. Now I can do it to you.”

“And is this your...cleaning closet?”

Alistair laughed. “It used to be! Now it’s updated and renovated and made holy,”

I raised an eyebrow. “By what?”

His grin was so cocky. Oh, this kid was begging to be taken down a notch. “By my presence,” he said simply, and marched into the room.

I walked after him. Barnabus huffed. “Rude child.” he floated down the stairs.

“Whoa,” I breathed. “Some broom closet.”

It had been taken down into the whole basement level. Inset lights made up nearly the whole ceiling, and the place was divided into what looked like at least 50 different cubbyholes, a large room in the center. Heavy rock and deep classical blared at each other, fighting for eardrum breaking dominance. The walls had family pictures taped to them, and random colorful stains. Tools, trash, paper, oil, and various things lay strewn all over the place. Alistair smiled genuinely. “My favorite place in the world,” he spread his arm, indicating the whole place. “My lab.”

I nodded. “Not bad for a twelve year old.”

Alistair raised a finger. “Uh, I’ll have you know that I’m fourteen.”

“Sure.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me while I get your paperwork. In case you die or something. For legal status.” He turned away from me. “DAD! THE GUY IS HERE!”

I thought it was funny, if nothing else. Send me yours, I’d love to read them!

There are several key components in writing that I have found. Prose/narrative, dialogue, description/setting, and characters, which is a HUUUGE element. Anyway, today I want you to write three paragraphs - a minimum of 10 sentences, in deeply descriptive writing. Make me be able to feel, smell, see, touch, and hear everything. Let me know what characters look like and what vibe they’re putting off. Just make sure that as you write it, you get completely submerged into your setting, so the same thing can happen for your reader.

Here’s mine. I tried two different examples. The first is with my character Vienna, the second with my friend Kasv.

"Please...don't."

The tears roll down my face like wet beads, even as I try to suppress them. I rub at them with my sleeve, but the cloth is rough, and it irritates my raw skin.

"Get over it, you do this every day," I hiss to myself, scratching the scabs on my eyelids.

I curl in tighter to myself, huddling against my own body. "But it doesn't usually hurt like this, it doesn't!"

I feel a twinge of empathy for myself. "I know, I know. But you don't want to die, do you?"

My eyes are shut so tight that they start to hurt, bright spots flashing in odd ways. "No," I admit in a whimper. "But I - I - " I choke on my tears and convulse softly, the fear physically seeming to squeeze my lungs. "I don't want to."

I rub my shoulder. "I know, honey. I know. Let's do it quickly, alright?"

"I - " a hiccup stops my voice, and a large tear drips off my nose. "I don't want to!"

"Enough," I tell myself authoritatively. "You're going to live, I won't let you die. It'll only hurt for a few minutes."

Even as I sob and slide away, pushing against the hard wall, suddenly feeling my bruised tailbone, I nod. I don't want to die, not yet.

I stared at the figure retreating.

A feeling of blankness. Things this dramatic, they don't happen in real life. They are for stories. For heroes.

But it has just happened. To me. I am no hero. I am a wretch of a human that has lost the best thing to ever happen to them.

My eyes burn. I know I shouldn’t cry; boys don't cry.

I cry.

The tears hurt, each one feeling like a new weight that I’ve procured for myself.

Hate. Hate hate hate.

A part of me wishes to cry out in anger, hurt, and confusion. It comes out in a sad warble.

My soul is splitting inside me. It hurts. Living hurts. I hurt. I am hurt and I hurt others. I hurt.

Again, the wretched warble tries to push its way through my lips.

A shoulder shoves past, knocking into me.

Reality comes flooding back. I am in the train station. I need to do something. I cannot stay here and become a spectacle.

A heavy breath. I want to go after them.

No. I am not that weak.

...but I am.

I push through the others in the station, forcing my muscles, suddenly weak, to assist me.

The fluorescent lights are both harsh and not bright enough. I can’t tell where they have gone.

No! I can’t lose them!

Good luck, work hard, and have fun!

0 notes

prettysherlocksoldier · 7 years

Note

“Maybe I’m just crazy.” Johnlock 😊😊

I don’t know why I’m like this but I am so here you go

John burst into the coffee shop, crumpling his makeshift umbrella newspaper and tossing it in the nearest bin, the freak fall rainstorm soaking into his soaks as he walked up the black strip of carpet toward the register. There was a small line—two people between him and the counter—and he sighed, tugging up the sleeve of his emerald green jumper to check the time.

Fifteen minutes until class. He could make it.

The first customer moved aside, the man in front of him stepping up to the cash, and John tugged his backpack around to the front, fishing for his wallet when a familiar voice froze his fingers.

“Large coffee, black, two sugars.”

He looked up, scanning from the crown of tousled brown curls to the sweeping hem of the long wool coat, believing his eyes even less than his ears.

“Light, medium, or dark roast?” the cashier asked, followed by a lengthy pause.

“Medium,” the man said with no degree of certainty, the cashier nodding and bowing her head to the buttons, John’s tongue running away from him as coins clinked into the palm of her hand.

“Sherlock?”

The man turned, familiar steel blue eyes blinking puzzledly.

“John?” he said, gaze sweeping over him, John hoping against hope there weren’t any obvious stains on this pair of jeans. “What are you-”

“You can pick that up at the end,” the cashier broke in, bobbing her head toward the lip at the far edge of the counter, and Sherlock turned back around, blearily stepping aside as the girl weaved her head to look around his shoulder. “What can I get you?”

“Er,” John murmured, tearing his eyes away and stepping up to the register, Sherlock hovering awkwardly a few feet away, “latte. Small.”

She nodded, inputting the order and handing him his change, and John tossed it hastily into his pocket, shuffling to Sherlock’s side.

“So,” he chuckled, rocking back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets, “come here often?”

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked, blunt as ever, but John supposed it was a comfort in this day and age to know some things never changed. “I thought you joined the army.”

John swallowed, all his imagined versions of this conversation abandoning him when he needed them most. “I, er...got a scholarship,” he muttered at the floor, Sherlock’s silence pounding against his eardrums.

“And didn’t tell me?”

The soft question landed heavy, and John winced, lips parting as he lifted his chin.

“I-I thought it’d be better to just...leave it be.”

“Better,” Sherlock snipped, “or easier?”

“Sheldon!”

Sherlock turned around, scanning the name on the cup and dragging it off the counter with a sigh. “Every time,” he grumbled, and John smiled, not sure he was allowed to laugh at the moment. Sherlock stared down at his coffee, teeth pinching at the corner of his lip, and then shook his head, as if rattling something loose. “So,” he muttered, eyes peering over the lid of his cup as he lifted it to his lips, “where’d you get this scholarship?”

John blinked up at him, but, after four years, Sherlock’s face had returned to being unreadable, a bitter—but deserved—pill to swallow. “Barts,” he replied, and then started, glancing down at his watch as his latte thumped down on the counter. “Shit,” he hissed, looking up at Sherlock’s quirked brow. “I have an exam,” he said, collecting his drink, eyes darting to the door. “I-I have to-”

“Go,” Sherlock finished, nodding down at his drink, a piece of his mask chipping away to reveal a sad curl of his mouth, and John’s heart bounced against his shoes before sinking through the floor, marvelling at the horrors of full circles.

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock said, shaking his head and stepping back, a retreat of a different kind chilling the air around them. “I’m sure I’ll...see you around.”

John flinched.

Sherlock turned away with a farewell smile, starting for a table in the corner, John’s heart hammering as his gaze darted between the door, his watch, and Sherlock’s retreating back.

“Wait!” he blurted, a syllable long overdue, and Sherlock spun around, eyes wide at the volume John already regretted, several unwanted pairs of eyes now drawn to their exchange. “Look, I- Maybe I’m just crazy,” he rambled, shaking his head, “or-or haven’t had my coffee yet”—he lifted the cup—“but I-I don’t think things like this just...happen.”

Sherlock’s head tilted. “Things like what?”

“Like this,” John said, waving a hand between them. “Us, running into one another. I mean, what are the odds?”

“I wouldn’t bet on them,” Sherlock muttered, shrugging a shoulder, but the swallow rolling down his throat belied his easy tone. “But what does it matter?”

“I-I’m just saying, it- Fuck!” he exclaimed, glancing at his watch again. “Okay, I know this is not a conversation to have in two minutes, but that’s all I’ve got, so, I’ve regretted breaking up pretty much since it happened but was too scared to say anything, and then it got to be too long, and then I didn’t care that it had been too long but you’d changed your number, and nobody from secondary school knew where you’d got off to, and you’re not on the internet anywhere—how is that even possible anymore?—and I’d really like to get a proper coffee sometime if you don’t think I’m an irreparable ass.”

Sherlock’s mouth was hanging open, his coffee tipping at a dangerous angle as his eyes blinked owlishly, but striking Sherlock Holmes speechless was an achievement he didn’t have the time to celebrate.

“I-I really hate to rush you, but-”

“Okay,” Sherlock interjected, a single dazed word that almost swiped John’s knees out from under him.

“O-Okay?”

Sherlock confirmed it with a nod, his soft smile framed with pinkening cheeks.

“Okay,” John said, testing the word on his tongue, “okay, er...same time tomorrow?”

Sherlock laughed. “Sure,” he agreed, smile broadening under twinkling eyes as John only continued to stare. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“SHIT!” John exclaimed, throwing a wave over his shoulder and rushing out the door, heart lighter than it had been in years with Sherlock’s laugh at his back.

send me prompts

#johnlock #johnlock ficlet #teenlock #unilock #johnlock fanfic #johnlock fanfiction #ggaypilot #dani answers

77 notes · View notes

fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 12 - Willie Alone

Summary: Sunset Curve AU, Willex, will he make it?, 5.2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Day one down with no Caleb. Purple began to border the horizon. Hours of skating broken up with brief rests had Willie pretty tired. Sheldon seemed to be holding up pretty alright, even if he was stuck in the funny makeshift carrier Willie had made from a t-shirt to wrap around himself. Whatever town he’d stopped in was a little ways from the interstate, but it was nice being in a smaller place than a city for once. He actually couldn’t remember if he’d ever been to one.

Willie skated up to a cafe that doubled as an ice cream parlor and let Sheldon down on the ground. He hooked a leash to the cat’s collar but let it drag along the ground, knowing he would be followed. Entering the cafe, he sat at a table and leaned on its surface in exhaustion.

The night before already felt like so long ago. He’d spent all day debating whether it was smart to skate along the highway because it was an easier route to follow, or if he should take some back roads because they had less traffic and likely no cops. Seeing that shed light up was unforgettable. Willie hadn’t watched too many movies since he’d lost his memories, but it was a moment that had definitely felt like he was in one. Did he count as a fugitive now? He sort of liked the flavor of mystery and adventure that came with it.

Sheldon was up on his hind legs, pawing at Willie’s knees to let him climb up. Sitting back so his cat could leap into his lap, Willie cradled him with one arm. He thought about getting some ice cream and realized that he already missed the chamoy candy from Escobar’s bodega. It would’ve been nice to have a few more snacks on him. He’d get something in a little bit - standing up was going to make him feel sore.

He wondered how Alex was doing. He’d chosen to go to L.A. in the hopes of at least finding him and the rest of his friends. That sense of closeness and familiarity that Willie had felt when they were at the Pearl had become everything to him. Even Julie and Flynn would be great to meet again - in fact, he wished he could give them something in return for allowing him the second chance he’d needed to find Alex. Then he could figure out where to go from there.

Finally getting up from his seat, he approached the counter for some ice cream, leaving Sheldon held down by putting a chair leg through the leash handle. A girl who looked too young to be working there came to serve him.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” she said politely.

Willie looked down at all the flavors underneath the glass. What he wanted to do was climb inside and get the cool-off he really needed.

“Uhhh...how about the - ” his eyes narrowed to be sure he was getting it right. “ - the swass?” As far as he could see it claimed to be a white chocolate flavor with cayenne pepper in it. He’d never heard of a spicy ice cream before.

The girl giggled behind the glass.

“How many scoops?” she asked, barely containing laughter.

“Two scoops, in a waffle cone,” he said, watching as she got it prepared. “What’s so funny?”

They traded hands as she gave him the cone and he gave her cash.

“Swass is short for sweaty ass. It’s a summer special.”

Willie snorted and laughed along with her.

“Nice!” he said, pointing a finger to accentuate the word. She held a handful of coins out to him. “Don’t worry about it, keep the change.”

Mood now lifted by his ‘swass’ ice cream (which was surprisingly delicious once he began licking it), he went back to the table. Sheldon kept watching him, eyes hungry for the unfamiliar substance. Willie watched in mild entertainment for a moment as he continued eating. Then he got the idea to move the ice cream around, seeing Sheldon’s eyes follow wherever it went. It made him giggle.

Holding the cone within reach of Sheldon’s face, he let the cat sniff at it for a moment before daring to take a lick. After a few more licks, Sheldon sat back with his mouth wide open in shock, and Willie felt bad for laughing.

“Did you get a brain freeze, buddy?”

Sheldon looked betrayed, and crawled underneath the chair and began cleaning his face. Some noise caught Willie’s attention and he looked up to see a small TV set up in a corner of the cafe. The news was on, and while he couldn’t clearly make out what was being said, he saw footage of a building in flames while a fire department was trying to put it out. Fear clenched in his chest as he recognized it. Lifting Sheldon’s leash, he immediately got up from his chair and headed out the door.

So avoiding public places was going to be the plan from now on. He didn’t know what was being told on that news story but considering that was definitely the shed from behind Caleb’s place...arson had awful consequences, and Willie didn’t like his odds. It certainly put a wedge in his plan to find shelter, but he could get creative.

Grabbing his board, Willie skated through the streets and checked out his best options while finishing his ice cream. It was getting late, and businesses were closing quickly. He didn’t fancy staying anywhere outside, mostly for the safety of his cat. After getting a good look around the town (or most of it at least), Willie had to pick between the movie theater or the laundromat.

He thought of trying the theater. The seats would be perfect to sleep in, and the dark stillness of an empty theater at night sounded so relaxing. But there was the question of getting in without having to buy a ticket or being kicked out after a movie was finished. That was likely to cause enough fuss with the employees for them to identify him. Scratch that off the list.

Willie made his way to the laundromat, albeit unwillingly. It was the only place open for twenty-four hours with no one to bother him about why he was there. As he went inside with Sheldon, he peered up at the yellow lights. There had to be a dark corner somewhere. A handful of loads were going, and they were all spread out so that the noise would bother him no matter what. However, a door toward the back caught his attention and he checked to see if it was locked.

To his surprise, it opened to reveal an empty office. He flipped on the light to get a better look. There was only a desk, chair, and empty bookshelves, as if whatever it was used for had been decommissioned or moved elsewhere. Dragging a finger over the desk, a layer of dust came off. The room didn’t look like anyone would check for a person in there, so Willie decided it was where he’d make camp.

Luckily enough, there was a lost and found area with the laundry of people who’d somehow forgotten to pick up their loads. Finding a blanket in the pile, Willie made sure Sheldon was inside the office with him before turning the light out and shutting the door. It blocked out the noise of the machines well enough. Using his backpack as a pillow, he laid down and pulled the blanket over him as best he could and sighed.

Thinking back to earlier when he’d celebrated being a fugitive...well, it certainly had its cons. As Sheldon nestled on top of his legs, Willie chuckled softly and tried to focus on falling asleep. The backwards dream was bound to happen again, and he wondered if anything about it would change now that he knew what it was really about. Aside from his memories of Alex and his dad, it was the best motivator he had now. He closed his eyes and let the sound of purring lull him to sleep.

Day three without Caleb. Note to self: never underestimate the amount of sunscreen, food and water needed on a trip, and bring a map. Packing light was a mistake. Willie was avoiding the highway now, but had taken a wrong turn somewhere after passing through that small town and thought he’d found somewhere to get back on track, but only ended up more turned around than ever. Now he was skating for miles on some back road with no cars or civilization in sight and was getting worried. He was rationing the water between him and Sheldon, and now that it was high afternoon and the July sun was beating down, he was worried. The food he had packed for himself was already gone, and he was pretty sunburnt.

He’d originally decided not to hitchhike because he didn’t want to be recognized and turned in, but now he was considering it was safer than wherever he was right then. If the laundromat had been rough, rest stops were much less desirable to sleep in.

Slowing his board down, he moved to the side of the road for a minute and set Sheldon down on the ground so they could both stretch their legs. These past few days had been hard, but he was determined to never go back to Caleb. He felt more like himself and a new person all at once, more than he had ever felt since he’d lost his memories. Even with desperation creeping under his skin, he didn’t regret it one bit. Sheldon rubbed against his legs and Willie opened his backpack and dug for some food.

“Here you go, buddy,” he murmured, laying the food down and massaging the back of the cat’s neck. “You sure are handling this better than me.”

All he got in response was content purring. Willie was grateful he wasn’t entirely alone. It wasn’t a usual thing for cats to travel, right? He wondered what made Sheldon so special.

Pulling out his water bottle, Willie saw that it was down to a mere gulp. As if to punctuate his disappointment, his stomach growled loudly. This was beginning to feel like more than a low point. The pain and fatigue started increasing as he sat in the dust, the notion of how lost he was settling in uncomfortably. Shaking the water bottle, Sheldon perked up and watched him pour some into his hand before licking it up.

Finishing the last of it, Willie was hardly satisfied. It was better than nothing. The heat was getting unbearable, though, and with how tired he felt it was a hard debate whether he should take a nap or keep trying to find shelter.

Stubbornly trying not to imagine the worst, Willie reminded himself of his goal. Find Alex, find somewhere to stay, and play it by ear from there. He even teased the thought of finding out if he still had a family. That didn’t sound likely, especially with the amnesia factored in, but this was the first time he could dare to dream bigger than the small life he’d had back in Vegas. If he did make it, it was all worth the strain he was feeling right now.

If - such a laconic, dooming word.

His legs felt too much like jelly to attempt riding again, though, and he pulled Sheldon into his lap. The cat made a few funny chirping noises at him.

“Sorry, buddy, I’m too tired,” he apologized. All the rubs against his shirt couldn’t renew his strength fast enough. Willie felt tears well up in his eyes and he couldn’t tell if they were from fear or exhaustion. Only a couple fell and immediately dried on his face.

He tried summoning the memory of Alex’s eyes, letting the ocean waves bring hope in a dire attempt to fight everything else. Their rhythm and focus remained preserved so well in his mind. If the world was made of hard, painful, unbearable things, Alex was the softness of respite. From bandaging his hand to running his fingers through his hair in comfort, there was a gentleness that made Willie believe in something greater than one day in Sin City. The waves grew and he dreamed of being washed clean and refreshed and like he could leave his soul at the shore forever and never be hurt.

They crashed over him again and again, like a lullaby. The sensation dulled the pain until he was numb. Nothing remained but the beautiful sea of green before him.

Willie didn’t know when he passed out or for how long, but he was jolted awake by feeling his body hitch up and down, like he’d gone over a bump. He heard the running of an engine and opened his eyes. A window beside him was down, and he looked directly into his own reflection in the rearview mirror of a truck. Turning to his left, he saw a person at the steering wheel through bleary eyes.

“Dad?” he muttered thoughtlessly.

“Sorry,” the voice of an older woman spoke. “Not your dad.”

Willie only blinked as he tried to orient himself. The woman had salt and pepper hair styled in a mullet and looked coarse from years of hard work.

“Pardon me for being blunt, but what the hell were you doing out there?” she rebuked. “With a cat!”

He immediately sat up in alarm, looking for Sheldon.

“He’s fine,” she assured. Willie nodded as he saw the cat sitting on top of a blanket in the back seat next to his skateboard.

“It’s a complicated story,” he told her.

“I bet it’s complicated,” she muttered in slight consternation.

There was a few minutes of silence as Willie’s mind tried to understand where he was.

“Don’t try to thank me,” the woman began speaking again. “It was only so easy to put you up in my truck after I saw you had no water, no food, nothing but a few changes of clothes and a wad of cash.”

“Thank you,” Willie said, embarrassed he hadn’t said it quicker.

“I said don’t thank me; I could’ve taken all your cash.”

He looked at her anxiously until her lip curled.

“Don’t worry, you’ve still got all of it.”

This lady was abrasive, but at least she was kind.

“I’m Bessie,” she said. “And if the name is right in your wallet, you’re William. Bet you go by Willie though.”

“How did you guess?”

“You don’t look like a William kind a’ kid.”

It was amazing how she could hold his attention so well without taking her eyes away from the road. Her intelligence was effective. It kind of made him smile.

“You hungry?” she asked. Her head nodded in the direction of a bag sitting between them. He smelled chicken and he hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between the food and her. “Go on, you can have some. I can eat more when we get to Roy’s.”

“Who’s Roy?” Willie asked, carefully pulling out a chicken wing and biting into it.

“It’s a motel. Me and my husband own it. And it looks like you’ll be our only guest tonight.”

“Oh,” he said through a mouthful of food.

“I apologize, but you need a shower,” she told him, wrinkling her nose. Willie only continued to chew in silence and bowed his head. He’d forgotten about that while he’d been focused on skating his way to freedom.

“So where is this motel at?” he asked after a few moments.

“It’s in Amboy. We’re a little ghost town out here. There’s only five of us, the rest are tourists. Sometimes we get Harrison Ford coming through.”

Willie raised his eyebrows, guessing it was impressive trivia. There were numerous names people used that he seemed to be expected to know, but unfortunately most of them he couldn’t keep track of. He silently ate his chicken, relishing in the taste.

“We’re almost there, so just sit tight and keep eating,” Bessie said.

He noticed she hadn’t mentioned anything about recent news, and while it was possible she knew about it, Willie didn’t think she would hold back her commentary if she did. He decided not to bring it up.

Not even ten minutes later they pulled up to the retro motel. Movement was agony, every bit of his exposed skin on fire. Sheldon lifted his head and meowed in curiosity as Willie opened the back door to get his things. Pulling his backpack over his shoulder, he scooped up Sheldon with one arm and grabbed his board with the other. He felt nervous claws immediately dig into his shoulder and he tried to soothe his cat the best he could.

“Shhh, buddy, it’s okay,” he whispered. It was a good thing he had a leash on.

“I have never seen a cat travelling with a skater before,” Bessie said as he followed her into Roy’s. “The things you get in this little town.”

She took him up to the main desk and pulled out a reservation book, licking her finger to turn the pages.

“Alright, let’s get you a room,” she murmured.

“I can pay to stay here,” Willie said shakily. She’d practically saved his life, and he hadn’t exactly counted how much he took from Caleb, but added onto his own money it was quite a stash. Bessie looked at him thoughtfully.

“If you insist,” she surrendered without argument.

Sheldon was sniffing everything and peering around, obviously wanting to explore.

“You can put him down for a minute, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Bessie told Willie, handing him a key and a bottled substance after he let Sheldon go. “You get yourself washed up and put this aloe on. I suggest you stay for a few days at least so those burns don’t get worse.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Willie heard himself say. Too late, he reconsidered the use of ‘ma’am’ but Bessie only smirked and shook her head. He wondered how often she picked up strangers and set them up at her motel, because she was so well prepared. Glancing at his cat, who was content to swat at some flies that had made their way inside, he went toward the room that matched the number on the key.

Showering hurt, even with cold water, but Willie tried to bear it as best he could. At least applying the aloe wasn’t too bad. He was glad he hadn’t skated with his shirt off because it wouldn’t have been any fun to try reaching certain parts of his back. Looking out the window of his room as he got dressed, the sunset was in its late stages. For a while, he simply sat on his bed and hugged his knees to his chest, watching it go down.

Now that he had time to slow down, Willie felt a huge weight finally lift off of his shoulders. He hadn’t been allowing himself to think about it as much since he was so focused on being on the move and trying to stay safe while he had Sheldon with him. Actually, he didn’t even remember when he’d crossed state lines. But he felt a little safer now. Caleb didn’t care enough to come after him all the way out here, he didn’t think. Burning down the shed had been a little dramatic, he admitted, but once people forgot the news it was probably miniscule in Caleb’s eyes compared to everything Willie had lost.

For a minute, a ball of anger grew inside his chest and Willie closed his eyes and breathed deeply in an attempt to cool it down. It was probably a good idea to take Bessie’s advice and stay a while since he was being given the opportunity. He got up and went back out to see how Sheldon was.

The cafe was quiet except for Bessie speaking on the phone with someone. Sheldon was near the cafe counter where someone had set out a bowl of water and a can of tuna. Willie went over to him and knelt down to pet him. Any motion was still a pain, but he made himself ignore it. Footsteps sounded from behind the counter and Willie looked up to see a large man with a mustache peering down at them. He appeared to be from somewhere in the Pacific Islands.

“You’ve got a nice cat,” the man said.

“Thanks,” Willie replied with a small smile as he continued running his hand from head to tail.

“Can I get you some water?”

“Oh...uh, yeah, thanks.” It was going to take a while to get used to people being kind. As the man left briefly and returned with a glass, Willie graciously took it and sat at a table. Like that, the man had disappeared and he almost questioned whether he’d actually been there.

He saw the napkins on the table and pulled one out of the dispenser. The only thing he’d actually learned how to make with origami was those little frogs, and he never seemed to use a proper piece of paper when he got the urge. Now, he didn’t have anyone to gift it to if he did make one. He sure wasn’t going to hand one to Bessie.

Just as he thought that, she came over to sit across from him.

“So what’s the plan, kid?” she asked, folding her hands casually.

Willie looked at her for a moment, unsure what to explain.

“Come on, something’s gotta motivate you to be going cross country on a skateboard,” she pointed out.

“Well,” he sighed. “I’m trying to get to Los Angeles.”

“And the bus just didn’t do it for you?”

Willie sat back, dumbfounded. Part of him knew that there were bus routes across the states, but he just hadn’t remembered that.

“Yeah, so fun fact about me: I only have a year and a half of memory, and I forgot about busses.”

Bessie raised her eyebrows, and then furrowed them.

“I’ve seen some things, I’ve seen some things, and I have seen some things. You are not something I have seen yet. I won’t ask for what your whole story is, but I can only imagine the convoluted circumstances that got you in your position.”

Willie bowed his head, unsure how he should respond. It was clear that she truly wasn’t aware of the news, though.

“Do you even know what you’ll do when you get to LA?” she asked.

“Not much,” he said, shaking his head. “But I have a start.”

“Please tell me you don’t plan to skate the rest of your way out of here.”

“Well, do I have any other way to get there?”

Bessie pursed her lips as she considered his words.

“I’d have my husband drive you out, but he just went out of town to do some business. We’re actually trying to sell the town, so once he finishes up his deal this place will be out of our hands. I can’t keep you here for long.”

The news made Willie realize just how inconvenient it was for her to have pulled him from the side of the road, and more guilt rose in his chest. He couldn’t keep getting in everyone’s way just by showing up.

“How soon is he supposed to be back?”

“A couple days. And then we’ll spend the rest of this week cleaning up and heading out.”

Feeling something touch his leg, Willie saw Sheldon had finished his can of tuna and come over to him. Picking the cat up and holding him in his lap, he looked at Bessie.

“You’ve been really generous,” he said. “You practically saved my life. I don’t know how to thank you.”

She shrugged.

“Ain’t much you can do but say it, and that’s okay. And maybe just rest enough so you’re in good shape before you get back on the road. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Willie nodded emphatically.

“Alright. Well, I’m going to turn in, but you hang in here as late as you like, although I don’t know what you would do.”

Willie only smiled as she got up from the table. He did the same, carrying Sheldon with him to the room. It was going to be nice having a bed and not being on the move from the second he woke up. Even with his skin continually on fire, he was able to fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

The next day he woke up and it was already noon. Sheldon was meowing to be let out the door, intermittently coming up to Willie and nudging him with his head.

“Yeah, I get the hint,” Willie laughed.

He quickly got himself together before hooking the leash to Sheldon and heading into the cafe. There were two men he hadn’t seen the day before eating lunch. It was probably a good idea to eat, considering he had slept through breakfast. The large man with the mustache was at the cafe counter, and Willie was silently relieved he hadn’t hallucinated him. It appeared he had set out the bowls of water and food already for Sheldon, who immediately went to it.

“Hello, little man,” he said as Willie came toward him. “What can Big Bo get for you?”

“Are you Big Bo?” Willie immediately loved the name.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I could eat anything, what do you recommend?”

Big Bo thought for a minute. And then he smiled.

“I’m gonna make you a nice burrito.”

Nodding and smiling, Willie watched him leave as he went to a table and immediately began folding napkins into frogs. After a while his face got itchy, and he realized his skin had begun peeling from the burns. That was going to be fun to handle. Big Bo brought his burrito over and then tried getting attention from Sheldon.

Most of the rest of the day was pretty boring. Willie rotated between doodling on napkins, playing card games with the deck Bessie pulled out from the motel office, and walking around with Sheldon. He was reminded to consistently use the aloe vera he’d been given. Boredom rose to the point where he helped Big Bo deep clean various appliances behind the counter in the cafe. By the time they had finished, it was just time to eat a late dinner and Willie was tired out from all the cleaning.

He took a shower and tried to lightly scrub off all of the dead skin. Sheldon curiously poked his head in and got a faceful of water, causing him to make a surprised noise and run off. Willie couldn’t help but laugh with a twinge of pity as he peeked out and saw his cat glaring at him from the bed. Honestly, he wouldn’t have managed to get this far without Sheldon. It felt good not to be alone, but also feel free to just be himself and still be followed out of sheer loyalty.

The bed was already so comfortable and inviting it made Willie sad that he couldn’t stay longer. Maybe in the future he could recreate something like this place - small and friendly, where he was always prepared to help poor strangers find shelter. There wasn’t much to do here, but he could play around with ideas for his own thing. He’d definitely add a skate park, though. A strange thought occurred where he remembered Caleb’s hotel being called the Desert Oasis - the irony of it all couldn’t have been more obvious.

For the first time in weeks, Willie had a peaceful sleep.

A couple days later, Bessie’s husband still wasn’t back in town. She didn’t seem too worried about it, but Willie could feel tensions building up for himself. He was slowly running out of ways to entertain himself while his burns were finally toning down into tan lines, and he was afraid he would wear out his welcome while she was waiting for the town to be sold. His backpack was already packed and ready to go, but it was mid-morning and he still felt unsure about when was a good time to leave. For now, he simply doodled over the top of the comics in the newspaper.

The door of the cafe opened. Willie didn’t bother looking up but he overheard the conversation.

“Well, I am surprised to see you here again,” Bessie was saying.

“Hello, Bess, how’s it been?” A man’s voice was heard speaking. Willie couldn’t tell where he recognized it from.

“Slow. Buster’s been out of town. I guess we oughta tell you we’re leasing the place so you’re not in for a surprise next time you want to fly out here.”

“Leasing the town? Well, that’s a shame.”

“Any day now.”

“Any day now? If I’d known this would be the last stop I make here, I would’ve planned better. I was just gonna go out to the salt flats for a bit and then hightail it back to LA.”

Willie peeked over his shoulder. He still couldn’t see the man’s face, but he felt his heart rate go up at the mention of Los Angeles. Not wanting to appear rude, though, he continued with his doodling and tried to tune out what they were talking about. Eventually the man left the cafe and it was difficult to tell if he was going to come back or not. If it took until later that evening, he was willing to wait to find out.

In the meantime, he let Big Bo teach him how to make his special dinner rolls. The man was very quiet but he clearly loved making food and it made the process more fun. Also, Willie enjoyed the way he got called “little man” because it came out sounding so laid back and welcoming. While they waited for the dough to set, Big Bo showed him some tattoos he had and explained the symbolism of each one.

“This represents Nāmaka, the Hawaiian goddess,” he said, pointing to a woman’s face surrounded by ocean waves on his bicep. “But to me she really represents the course of life. The tide goes in, and the tide goes out, and the good things and bad things do the same. What you and me do is just ride that wave wherever it takes us in life.”

Listening intently, Willie thought back to Alex’s eyes and the countless times he used the visual of ocean waves to bring him calm amid the turbulence. Big Bo had spoken a simple concept, but it was something more powerful than anything Caleb had ever said. Something in Willie’s heart felt like he could finally find a purpose outside of all of this chaos.

After they had finished making the rolls, Willie sat eating one while petting Sheldon when he heard the door to the cafe open again. Footsteps approached and suddenly, a man Willie recognized had put his leg up on the chair across from Willie and was leaning on his knee casually. Surprise seemed to slap him over the face when he realized who he was. Indiana Jones, Han Solo, the Fugitive himself looked down at him in a bomber jacket and jeans.

“So my friend Bessie tells me you’re in a rough spot, kid,” Harrison Ford said. Willie looked back in shock. “I’ve got my own plane out there right now. You want a ride?”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #sunset curve #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #caleb covington #sheldon the cat #harrison ford #viva las vegas #willie alone #fiddlepickdouglas

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noelmu · 7 years

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MONTH IN REVIEW 12/3/17 - 12/31/17

As another year ends, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to “put everything in perspective.” It’s helpful advice, I think, though it’s advice that depends a lot on what kind of perspective the person proceeds to take. Throughout 2017, I know a lot of us have struggled with anxiety over geopolitical matters that are beyond the average person’s control. For me though, one of the takeaways from this year is that whenever possible I should remove myself from the daily discourse for a second, take a breath, and adopt either a broader or narrower view.

In the broader sense, I’ve found that it’s helped to look at history, and to think about the difficulties faced by civilizations before us, and the various cycles and swings: from prosperity to lack and back again, and between poles of authoritarianism and openness. Even in recent years, I’ve noticed that over and over our pundit class has made pronouncements about changes in the culture that they insist are locked-in and permanent, until they turn out to be anything but. I’ve seen Democrats and Republicans win elections after political scientists have declared that demographics and/or social attitudes should’ve made those victories impossible. In my lifetime I’ve seen radical changes in Eastern Europe, China, and the Middle East -- sometimes for the better, sometimes not. All I know for sure is that what we’re afraid of one day has been known to dissipate almost overnight (usually to be replaced by some new horror, granted). This doesn't make our fears unfounded, nor does it justify complacency. But it does mean that maybe we don’t have to be on edge 24-7.

In the narrower sense, 2017 to me has reemphasized the value of acting locally. Sweeping, nationwide changes are difficult; but there are plenty of daily opportunities to improve the quality of life in our immediate vicinity. Early this year I heard an interview with Asia Argento in which she said that after a lifetime of living under a corrupt Italian government, she’s learned to ignore what politicians do, and instead to focus on the people who live on her block. Granted, Argento is a well-known actress and filmmaker, which affords her the privilege to a little philosophical. But that doesn’t make her approach to life entirely wrong. All year long I’ve read stories about people on a local level getting things done. It’s been very encouraging, to know that on the smallest day-to-day level, a civil society can still click right along.

Narrowing my perspective even further, down to my house, I have to admit that we’ve had a pretty good year here. I worked pretty much non-stop, from January all the way up to this week. Donna has really connected with her last two freshman classes, and has settled into a personally satisfying role as a mentor to some truly outstanding young people. Our own two youngsters, Archer and Cady Gray, have accomplished some remarkable things both inside the classroom and at home, as they’ve pursued their various obsessions and hobbies. Cady Gray took a school trip to New York, became the designated artist for an on-line role-playing game, and got to sing with her choir at an Arkansas Symphony Orchestra Christmas concert. Archer made All-State in choir, got a 5 on the AP Physics test, a 4 on the AP World History test, and scholarship-worthy 1480 on the PSAT. We took our first real family vacation this summer, making memories we’ll carry with us for a lifetime.

One of the unexpected complications of our current time is that it’s hard not to feel a little apologetic when things are going well, given that social media and the incessant stream of news alerts never let us forget about how crummy others are feeling. But at the same time, I’ve invested a lot in my work, my marriage, and my children, and it would be ungracious not to appreciate the breaks I’ve been given, let alone to squander them.

So here’s how the Murray/Bowman household is ending 2017: stressed, but happy, and looking forward to better days, for all of us. Thank you for reading, and may God bless you all.

And now if you’re looking for something to do this New Year’s Eve, here’s a long list of links...

The A.V. Club The best films of 2017 that we didn’t review (I wrote about My Happy Family, Uncertain, and Walking Out) The A.V. Club’s 20 best TV shows of 2017 (I wrote about Halt And Catch Fire) The best film scenes of 2017 (I wrote about BPM and Call Me By Your Name) The 20 worst films of 2017 (I wrote about The Shack, Flatliners, and CHiPs) The 20 best films of 2017 (I wrote about Logan Lucky, Baby Driver, and Get Out, and my ballot is here)

The Los Angeles Times First person: Being a film buff in Arkansas isn't as hard as it used to be Under The Radar: Keanu, Hasidic Jews and streaming support (I wrote about John Wick: Chapter 2, Menashe, My Happy Family, Nocturama, and Their Finest) The Year In Home Entertainment: The Vietnam War and the best new video and streaming picks of 2017 Movie Review: Human Barbie can't save The Doll from its own incompetent horror Movie Review: Qatari sheiks pursue passion for falconry in documentary The Challenge Movie Review: Hollow In The Land has a winning similarity to Winter's Bone Movie Review: Eclectic guitarist gets his due in Bill Frisell: A Portrait Movie Review: Arty approach to woodland horror bogs down Desolation Movie Review: Netflix gets epic with Will Smith's fantasy-action thriller Bright, but the result is less than thrilling New In Home Entertainment: Dunkirk is a stirring and stunning World War II epic New In Home Entertainment: Tom Cruise pairs intensity and charisma in American Made

The New York Times 11 Shows We’ll Be Talking About In December TV Review: A Christmas Story Live! Wasn’t Lively Enough

Rolling Stone 10 Best TV Episodes of 2017: Better Call Saul, “Chicanery” 10 Best Horror Movies of 2017 (I wrote about Super Dark Times, The Devil’s Candy, and The Blackcoat’s Daughter) 12 New TV Shows You Should Be Watching (I wrote about At Home With Amy Sedaris, Brockmire, Detroiters, Great News, Manhunt: Unabomber, Tales From The Tour Bus, Sweet/Vicious, and What Would Diplo Do?) TV Review: The Walking Dead Season 8 Episode 7: Eugene-ics 101 TV Review: The Walking Dead Season 8 Episode 8: The Son Also Rises

Uproxx What We Talk About When We Don’t Talk About Young Sheldon

The Verge The Twin Peaks: The Return Blu-ray set explains what the show is, not what it means The 20 best TV shows of 2017

The Week Why The Middle is TV's most underrated comedy Tonya Harding's belated moment to shine Are Molly's Game and The Post too obviously about 2017?

#Week In Review

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nerdforestgirl · 4 years

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Note: Hello! Did you know that today is @rgbcn‘s birthday? This isn’t much, but I wrote a story for her to celebrate. She’s always been exceptionally supportive of my wizard stories, so I thought I would write about the first time Sheldon took Amy on a wizarding job. Happy Birthday, Regina. I hope it’s a great one! <3

“Get your things,” Sheldon told Amy as he ran into their cottage. He panted to catch his breath. It had been a hard ride to get here back to his home and his wife.

“You're home!” Amy exclaimed as she ran over to wrap him in a hug. He had been gone for a few days, and she missed him terribly. At first she was worried that he wasn't excited to see her, but then he allowed himself just a moment to melt into the embrace. However, they didn't have much time to spare.

“Get your things,” he repeated.

“What things?” Amy asked.

“Your magic things. I... I need your help,” Sheldon said. Those last four words were hard for him to say, and they couldn't be said to anyone else. Sheldon could only be that vulnerable with his wife. However, it was true and time was short. He needed her to get her wand and whatever else she might need to help him.

The last that Amy had seen of her husband, he was on a simple job to help a local farmer increase his crop yield. Sheldon was to be paid in produce because he was friendly with the farmer, but he held nothing in his hands. It shouldn't have even taken a full day, let alone the three he had been gone, and he had never asked for her help before. About anything. He was her teacher as well as her husband, and other than the one time she helped him slay a manticore, she had never helped him with any kind of job.

Amy gathered her things as Sheldon asked. Then they were off without any more explanation. They both pushed their horses has fast as they possibly could go.

“There is dark magic on farmer Bert's land,” Sheldon shouted back. “It is darker and stronger than anything I have encountered before. There have been reports of things like this all over the kingdom, and no one knows for sure who is doing it.”

Amy hadn't heard of anything like that, but she didn't doubt Sheldon. He was not the type to play pranks. They pair rode on until they got nearer to farmer Bert's land. Amy could feel it in the air. It felt foreboding, and her horse slowed no matter how much she urged the mare on. She didn't blame Daisy. She wanted to turn around as well. Still they pressed on.

“What is that?” Amy asked Sheldon.

“It's a dark spell that saps the life out of anything it touches for too long. Bert's wife, Maybell, has taken ill, and all the crops are dead. I tried everything I could think of,” Sheldon told her. She could see it wasn't easy for him to admit that he needed her help.

“I brought a healing potion,” Amy offered.

“I have given her two and Bert one of his own. They help for a while, but it does not cure.”

They finally arrived to where the rows and rows of crops should be, but Amy could only see black on the earth. It looked like a fire ravaged the land, but Sheldon assured Amy that it was the dark magic. Sheldon and Amy went up to the house to meet with Bert and his wife, but they didn't tell Amy Sheldon hadn't already filled her in on.

“What do you want me to do?” Amy asked. She desperately wanted to help Sheldon and Bert.

“We are going to lift the dark magic. When I attempt it on my own, it falls faster than I can lift it,” Sheldon explained. Amy had read several books on things like this, so he knew she could assist in the spell. Even without full training, she was stronger than he was now.

Amy wasn't so sure. She hadn't ever tried anything like this before, and she could feel the land draining her as she stood. Still, she followed Sheldon out to the field. They held hands and focused on the spell.

“Balance,” they said in unison.

With the word, Amy could feel the evil leave the place they were in. Under her feet green grass appeared where there had only been dirt and dead plant matter. She beamed at Sheldon because that really didn't seem so hard.

Then it hit. The dark magic bounced back as if they had done nothing.

“Dammit!” Sheldon swore. Amy had never in her life heard her husband use such language. She wondered if it was the effects of the dark magic on him as well. She could feel her mood and power were dampened by this magic. His must be affected as well.

“Again,” he yelled. It reminded her of that night when he put her through a pain trial to bring out her magic. He wouldn't dare hurt her again like that night, but he was clearly angry. Still, Amy nodded and they said the spell again. And again. And again.

“Sheldon,” Amy whispered. She was certain that she would faint if they did it again. She needed a break. She had pushed herself this hard, but Sheldon never had. He had never asked anything more of her than she had to give.

“The land will be ruined forever,” Sheldon told her.

“Just a moment. Please,” Amy begged.

“Once more,” Sheldon ordered.

“Balance,” Amy said as she felt the ground going out under her feet. She never hit the ground because Sheldon caught her. She didn't lose consciousness, but she was severely weakened. He took her to a tree to let her rest. There was no shade because all the leaves were gone, but at least she could sit up against the trunk. Tears started to fall from his eyes because this was the only thing he had left to help. Sheldon might have seemed cold and distant to people who didn't know him well, but he had a big heart. He wanted to help. He needed to help.

Sheldon started to dig through Amy's bag to get her something to eat. In his frustration, he started throwing her potions onto this cursed ground. He knew he would never do that if it weren't for the effects of the curse. It darkened his mood more than he expected. He opened his mouth to apologize when something caught his eye.

Then he noticed that near one of the broken bottles was a spot of green. It did not fill in with black again like when they did the spell. In fact, the green was very slowly spreading from where the potion bottle lie smashed.

“What is this? What did you bring?” Sheldon asked his wife frantically as he pointed to the healed spot on the ground. He would move her there if not for the broken glass.

“I do not know. Is there a label on the broken pieces?” she asked. She had grabbed most of her supply of potions as they left, but she didn't know what all she had taken. However, it seemed that something worked against this powerful dark magic.

“It just says, 'light,'” he said he showed her the label. He didn't know of any potion called “Light.” It must have been short for something.

“Light? It did all of that?” Amy asked. The small spot of uncursed land was spreading very slowly. They needed more potion to fix all the land, but she felt better already as it started to spread to where she sat. However, it was clear they would need more to fix all of the land that was cursed.

“What is it?” Sheldon asked with a smile. He felt much lighter standing on this green patch.

“It was something I was playing with after I read that book on advanced potion making. The book said that new potions were rare now, but they could still be made if the wizard could tap into something that was their true essence. I spent those three weeks you were in the lowlands a few months ago playing with it. It turned into something, so I kept it. I didn't know what it would do, but it was gold and happy and bright. I thought I would call it light.”

Sheldon smiled. Of course Amy's true essence was light. She was pure sunshine and happiness and power. That was what this broken land needed. It needed Amy.

“What did you put into it?” Sheldon asked frantically. They could save Bert's land after all if they could just make more of Amy's potion.

“Some of your apple jam. The first rain in spring. The prettiest flower in the garden. A beautiful drawing from a book of fairy tales. Cooked over a fire made from a passionate spark,” Amy listed as she strained her memory. The potion hadn't worked on anything she had tested it on, and she wouldn't have even brought it if she had paid any attention to what she was grabbing. She was shocked it did anything here.

“We have to go make more,” he said as he helped her up. They ran to their horses and rode home just as fast as they had gotten there to begin with.

Sheldon jumped off his horse and went to gather all of the apple jam he could find. He knew they had a supply of the first rain of spring in the cottage. It was a fairly powerful ingredient that was used in other potions. Amy ran to gather the most beautiful flowers as well as all of her fairy tale books. She didn't want to destroy all of that lovely art, but she knew that the drawings were full of magic all on their own. It took a special person to make something so lovely and pure. Still, that magic was needed to save them from the dark magic spreading over Bert's lands.

When Sheldon and Amy met with the ingredients in the cottage, Amy kissed Sheldon right on his lips. He was about to chastise her for wasting time, but then she smiled and lit a spark with her fingers. A passionate spark.

Sheldon had never seen a potion like this. It seemed fairly normal at first, but as Amy added the apple jam, it turned a bright pink. Then blue with the first rain of spring. Then red with the flowers and green with the drawing. He had never seen something so bright and wonderful. He would make her make more when he had the time to study it. Then as she stirred it, it became bright gold just like the sun. Just like Amy.

They bottled as much as they could so that they could rush back to Bert's farm land. There they recruited him and Maybell to help them spread the potion in carefully measured intervals. From there, they watched as the dark magic faded and the brilliant green of the plants returned. It took the rest of the day, but they had destroyed every trace of dark magic from the area.

“Do you know who did this?” Amy asked Sheldon as they rested in Bert's kitchen. Bert and his wife were making the pair a meal to thank them for all of the work. Amy had offered to help, but they assured her that they wanted her to rest as she was the wizard who helped fix their land. She was a wizard all on her own. This might have been the first job on which Sheldon asked her help, but it would not be the last. He had already asked her to go into town with him the next week for help on some work for the king. She was his associate now. No longer his student. She proved her worth and more on this day.

“I have heard rumblings about a new dark sorcerer in the area named Kripke. I suppose you and I will need to be paying him a visit soon. We can't have our friends and neighbors terrorized by someone like that,” Sheldon said. Then he happily accepted the plate of food put in front of him.

“What is this?” Sheldon asked. It looked good, but he had never seen anything like it.

“It is a new invention by my wife. It is bread with tomato sauce and cheese on top of it,” Bert said. Supplies had been low while the dark magic had slowly taken over the land. They assembled this with what they had on hand.

Sheldon took a bite and proclaimed that it was his new favorite food. Amy tried it and agreed it was quite impressive.

#NFG fan fiction

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