#fighterwheeler

although he would not argue with the decision aloud, the foremost question in Crow’s mind is: why does Rose want her? the kid’s interesting, and she’s certainly older than Pea and Pod ( thank fucking god ), but she’s hardly that special. she’s a nice enough kid ––––– but she’s just lucky, and fortune has always favoured the True to begin with ( it is a steady guarantee, whereas Nancy is not ). beneath the brim of his hat, Crow watches her, indecision and determination flickering in and out of existence over her pretty little face, like waves lapping at the shore then retreating, never settling.  a strange sight. she has yet to have a True name, but in the relative privacy of his own mind, Crow had taken to calling her Spitfire Nancy. 

indecision ( fear ) sits ill on her shoulders.

to her credit, her voice doesn’t quiver as she addresses him ( in turn, he graciously avoids remarking on her tears. ), and he wonders if it is reassurance she seeks. Rose would give it to her. but Crow. . . his hands come to rest just beneath the slope of her shoulders, large and warm and alive — slightly calloused — working hands that contradict his rube profession ( hands that chop wood... and sharpen knives. ) he turns her around to face him and his hands remain on her, dark eyes pinning her in place.

I.

Nancy: why are you like this? Crow Daddy: like what? charming? devastatingly beautiful? a genius? you’ll have to be more specific. Nancy: . . . .an asshole.

II.

Crow Daddy, showing Nancy around after she joins the True: ...and finally, this is my wall of inspirational people. Nancy: uhh, that’s just a picture of yourself. Crow Daddy: I'm big enough to admit that I often inspire myself.

III, bonus (for the trauma).

         “ whoa whoa whoa, there. ” Crow’s hands raise, palms up, the posture mock-defensive ( but the movements are slow, lazy, belying any possible concern. it’s like placating an excitable puppy, he thinks, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a lopsided, warm smile. adolescence, the horror of humanity. teenagers are like pufferfish. so reactive. prod them in the slightest, and they’re ready to blow up –––– at others, at their own selves. it’s funny, honestly, once you wear an adult’s shoes and calm the fuck down. ) “ all I’m saying is that you don’t know what you’re messing with. do you think that’s clever ? ” 

❝ you don’t have to, ❞ nick says, but he thinks that’d be nice. his classes had been emptier than usual, the reason being the holiday hustle, he thinks. nancy showed up, one of about 10 people throughout the 3 classes of the day. the man gives her a small smile, offering her the cup of candy canes. ❝ i might just close up early and get something to eat, instead, ❞

             ‘  i  can’t  believe  i  missed  hawkins  having  a  mall  -  actually  ...  ’    perfectly  styled  hair  bounces  as  she  shakes  her  head  ,   tammy’s  hand  on  her  hips  .    ‘  like  ,   don’t  get  me  wrong  -  i’m  loving  every  single  minute  i’m  spending  in  nashville  -  but  i  literally  missed  a  mall  opening  ,   blowing  up  ,   and  closing  down  .  ’    seriously  ,   she  didn’t  expect  to  miss  this  much  when  being  away  for  a  year  after  graduation  .  

[ ❀ ; @fighterwheeler:  ❝ I’M selfish ? ❞  | accepting!