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olenvasynyt · 8 days

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I have always been uncomfortable with the SF scene where Cassian takes Nesta on the hike, but I didn't fully understand why until my most recent reread. And it is one of the reasons why I am anti-Nessian.

This is a summary of my tiktok video, feel free to check it out, and follow me over there as well if ya want.

So this hike was right after Nesta lashes out and tells Feyre that the baby was going to kill her during the birth, and this was because of her frustration and hate towards Rhys and the IC and how she has been treated.

Chapter 46 of ACOSF: “Is it respect that she offers you?” Nesta spat. “Is it respect that your mate offers you?” Feyre went still. … “What do you mean?” “Have any of them told you, their respected High Lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?” “…I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you about the truth. Did you all vote on that too? Did you talk to her, judger her, and deem her unworthy of the truth?”

It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumbling Feyre’s paint-smeared face. She had gone too far. She..oh, gods.

But as Feyre and Cassian both point out, she saw the parallels between Feyre’s situation and her own, and decided to avenge both of them. Rhys and Amren were hiding the truth about Nesta’s powers, she knew that a lot of them did not trust her to know the truth about her own body.

Chapter 47 of ACOSF: I think she saw the parallels between your situations, and, in her own way, decided to avenge both of you. That’s my feeling too. Rhys disagrees.

I think Feyre’s situation was much more serious than Nesta’s powers being kept from her, but that is also why it was good for Feyre to find out the truth even if the situation was upsetting.

Cassian was like oh "I’m sorry you found out the baby could kill you" and Feyre was like "I’m not. I’m mad at you guys for not telling me. Nesta was the only one brave enough to."

Chapter 47 of ACOSF: “I’m sorry you had to learn of it.” “I’m not. I’m furious with all of you, I understand why you didn’t tell me, but I’m furious. Well, we’re furious with Nesta. She had the courage to tell me the truth. She told the truth to hurt you. Perhaps. But she was the only one who said anything. — I wish you’d found out a different way. Well, I didn’t. But we’ll face it together. All of us. — I want you to come back home. Both of you.

I love how Feyre, who is the one was the victim in this moment, was like “I’m not sorry this was how I learned about the baby but I’m glad someone told me. Rhys overreacted, I calmed him down and I want both of you home.”

Rhys overreacted. He completely and utterly overreacted. — Rhys had no right to chase you from the city, or threaten Nesta. He has realized that, and apologized. I want you to come back home. Both of you.

Now kind of going off topic with Rhys threatening to kill Nesta: people get mad at Cassian for not standing up for his mate. And I can understand that, I also think that’s frustrating and Cassian not standing up for Nesta is something we see often, including the Ember and Randall bonus chapter in HOFAS. But it can be complicated because a lot of people will defend Cassian like this: Rhys is high lord and it will be very hard to stand up to him as someone who’s not on his level, so of course Cassian couldn’t do anything to defend his mate in this situation. And yes this is true, and we see a very similar situation between a High Lord and their superior with Tamlin and Lucien in ACOMAF. Lucien tried to stand up for Feyre but couldn’t, and was shut down and abused.

But if people are going to use this idea to defend Cassian, that he couldn’t stand up and fight his high lord, we have to make this comparison between Rhys to Tamlin. And a lot of pro-Rhys people don't like that conversation.

But anyways, this argument cannot be applied to this hiking situation at all, because Feyre mindspeaks with Cassian and says that Rhys overreacted, she isn’t mad at Nesta, all of those things I talked about before. Feyre says that she wants both of them home but Cassian still brings Nesta to a hike and says he’ll call it a punishment to sort of appease Rhys because he knows Rhys is still mad about the situation. “Tell Rhys it’s a punishment.” Rhys was not the victim in this situation, Feyre was, and she was like fuck Rhys! He was wrong for overreacting! Nesta was braver than you guys and I want her home.

Where did you even head off to? The wilderness. I think we’ll stay out here for a few days. We’re going on a hike. Nesta has never been on a hike in her life. I guarantee she will hate it. Then tell Rhys this is her punishment. Because Rhys, despite apologizing for his threats, would still be furious. Tell him that Nesta and I are going to hike, and she’s going to hate it, but she comes home when I decide she’s ready to come home.

But Cassian still brings Nesta on the hike.

And he was definitely doing it for Nesta and to help her work out her thoughts and not solely because of Rhys, but this hike is a terrible way to help a suicidal person work out their thoughts.

This hike pisses me off so much. The way the IC decided to “rehabilitate” Nesta in general pisses me off. I liken Nesta’s “rehab” to those therapy wilderness camps where people get kidnapped and brought to the middle of the mountains for. Those rehab camps revolve around forcing people to get to their lowest to rehabilitate, to acknowledge their mistakes, and it is a horrible, abusive system and very often results in resentment at best and death at worst. And I think Nesta being locked up was the same thing and this hike is the same thing. One of the several things those rehab boot camps do is force their patients to go on strenuous hikes for multiple days, and when it’s beyond their physical capacity. It can lead to exhaustion, dehydration, injury, and death.

And one of my least favorite things in this entire book is that when Cassian realizes that Nesta is suicidal, he continues the hike up the rocky cliffs of the Illyrian Steppes with barely any food and even less talk. He doesn’t look at her or speak to her in days.

It is to force Nesta to get to her lowest moment so she’ll break down. Exactly like what happens during those rehab camps. It is forcing her into this breakdown in an unsafe place with no professional help.

Cassian knew that Nesta often hated herself. But he’d never known she hated herself enough to want to…not exist anymore. He’d seen her expression when he mentioned the threat of falling. And he knew going back to Velaris wouldn’t save her from that look. He couldn’t save her from that look, either. Only Nesta could save herself from that feeling.

When I read SF for the first time I was so weirded out by this hike and I couldn’t figure out why. I do not find these chapters moving or inspiring, I thought they were toxic and sad and I still very much do. And if I’m going to be honest I felt like I was also being manipulated into getting emotional like how Nesta was.

And this is where I’m going to get into my criticisms for SJM.

I don’t know if she realizes this comparison between Nesta’s rehabilitation in general and the boot camps and just, bad, toxic therapy in general. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt because I think a lot of Silver Flames is about how the Valkyries helped heal Nesta and SJM and their hike during the Blood Rite was so much more inspiring at least for me and was definitely the climax and resolution to Nesta’s healing journey. SJM illudes to the IC’s biases very often in SF and I thought she was making Nesta’s rehab toxic on purpose, but the reason why I struggle with giving SJM the benefit of the doubt is because she said in an interview that that hike Cassian took Nesta on was inspired by a hike she and her husband went on during a vacation.

I also hate how she adds the idea that the mountains are healing, and there is a voice telling Cassian to keep pushing Nesta forward, “just one more mountain”. Like no. This again adds to the comparison of the fucking bootcamps because that is also a tactic they use.

Chapter 48 of ACOSF: The peaks weren’t as brutal and sharp as those in Illyria, but there was a presence to them that he couldn’t quite explain. Mor had once told him that long ago, these lands had been used for healing. Perhaps that was why he’d come. Some instinct had remembered the healing, felt this land’s slumbering heart, and decided to bring Nesta here.

This is fantasy, of course, so I am fine with this element of a higher presence that is healing to the characters who are struggling. And there is the symbolic element of climbing your mountain. But I need people to stop saying that this is a realistic way to treat people with actual problems in the real world, not only with this hike but also with all of the rehabilitation the IC made her do by locking her up. I might make a whole other video on that but if Nesta was in the House of Wind because she was addicted to alcohol and fucking strangers and spending money, this is not the professional way to go about it.

I like a lot of parts during this final breakdown where they talk about forgiving yourself, leaving the past behind. But I did not like the journey they made Nesta take to get to this point. Nesta could have very well had this breakdown not on this hike.

And this part ends with Cassian comforting Nesta.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he whispered into her palm. “Just don’t lock me out. You want to walk in silence for a week, I’m fine with that. So long as you talk to me at the end of it.”

Like I appreciate this sentiment.

But, another thing that annoys me is Cassian’s conclusion after this scene

Chapter 50 of ACOSF: “She’d been suffering, and he’d had no idea how much it consumed every facet of her life. He’d seen her self-loathing and anger—but hadn’t realized how much she’d been aware of it. To know she’d hurt this much, for so long.

First of all, how would Nesta not know she was aware of her self-loathing and anger? She had actively talked about it before this moment??? She fucking has. And how did Cassian not know that she had been hurting this much for long long? I thought he was her mate who understood her? He talked about her traumas before in ACOWAR. Plus, I thought she was being rehabilitated. Helping her get not addicted to alcohol and spending money and having sex?

There is such a lack of awareness when it comes to the IC and this situation and I get frustrated when readers don’t understand it. People say that Nesta’s rehab was very serious and complex but no. It wasn’t. It is a terrible way to help anyone.

I think Nesta and Cassian still have to work on a lot to be an actual healthy relationship. And we saw the issues they still have in the Randall and Ember bonus chapter so I am very curious to see how SJM resolves their issues in future books, if she does so at all.

#anti inner circle #anti nessian #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron #nesta archeron deserves better #anti ic #anti sjm #sjm critical

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ashenwinds · 2 months

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// replayed the tall tale Seabound Soul last night and discovered some more things. Hello and welcome to Captain's TED talk about a skellieman First of all, just a reminder of how fucking big the Ashen Lords are. I was not exaggerating making Chi 10ft tall considering just how massive Horatio is compared to Flameheart's coffin. Even comparing the echoes of the Ashen Guardians to Horatio when those are normal sized Skellies.

You can also tell Flameheart is bigger but not much compared to the Ashen Lords, so fitting having him break 6ft but not be much taller we love a short Pirate King

but onto the things I noticed 1. The sound his skull makes. All the skulls in the Sea make a certain sound. A sort of wispy, eerie, whispering noise. Most of the variations have the same sound, except two particular ones: The Ashen Winds skull and the Skull of Siren Song. The thing is, the other skulls in the Tall Tale of Randall and Martha make the default noise. . . but Flameheart's makes the noise of the Ashen Winds skull. The very skulls that are technically the Ashen Lords' skulls. Might be something small but it can reaffirm the idea that Flameheart did indeed get the Ashen Curse, it just did not manifest in the same way it did on the Lords // Stitcher Jim 2. The bones on his hat + jacket + glove. I've been staring at them if they were just something decorative or had a bigger purpose. But it is very similar to the crate of ancient bone dust, so perhaps they are bones from the Ancients, sort of trophies // relics taken. There is also a heavy amount of bones around his resting place, including the skull of a kraken surrounding the entrance. It is a rather big achievement to be able to kill a kraken and rather interesting that the bones are on Flintlock Peninsula. . . it could very well be those bones on Flameheart's attire are either from his greatest kills or perhaps something enchanted. 3. Considering how Flameheart was killed, being the entire cabin of the Burning Blade filled with gunpower and set off by a dropped candle flame, his body is in pretty good condition. He is missing a couple of bones in his legs but everything else hardly looks scratched -- which is reinforced in the Heart of Fire novel where it is stated he did multiple enhancements to his bones aside from binding his soul to his skull. But also, blog-wise the styling of the gold added to reshape his skull is staying

4. Considering Flameheart is often called King Flameheart by his followers, his attire is rather lacking with the royal flare. It is most likely not a desire of being 'like the others' considering he is extremely prideful and sees himself as above -- otherwise he would have not converted the cabin of the Burning Blade into a throne room -- but may be out of finding it to be far too iconic to remove. Or one of the only materials to be able to withstand the fires inside him, considering in the image above you can see the burns left over in his eye sockets. 5. His coffin is sealed in blood. Whose blood? Who knows. It could be his own blood gathered before he lost his flesh. It could be blood of enemies or his greatest followers. In a lot of old cultures and enchantments, blood is something powerful, so it could very well be his own blood to enchant the coffin and only allow it to be opened by a certain person or at a certain time.

#ꜱᴋᴇʟᴇᴛᴀʟ ʟᴏʀᴅ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴜɴqᴜᴇɴᴄʜᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴜʀʏ ✦ flameheart headcanon // meta #; long post #(sorry just ranting about the skellie man)#(I'm taking the thin book of lore and making it a hefty textbook)#(since I am going to eventually turn some of you guys into playing Sea of Thieves mark my words)

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conundrumish · 2 years

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i'm interested in the details behind your wha au, mind talking about it?

sure! everything about the au is below this read more:

luke triton is the unknowing son of misthallery village's lord clark triton and doctor brenda triton! brenda's obviously one of the village doctors, typically taking care of medicinal needs & caring for patients. her physician knowledge is PEAK. while, clark is basically on good terms with the witches around his area and encourages healthy relationships between his villagers and said witches.

clark is, unfortunately, kidnapped in this version by jean descole - who is a brim hat - and brenda is extremely worried for her husband. that said, luke is the one who witnessed clark's abduction and is forcefully given a tattoo. it was essentially jean's intent to make luke into his apprentice, but he also knew about clark's connection to his younger brother and it's for his 'master plan.' you know, securing the legacies... which are forbidden magic items from the pre-pact days.

hershel hears of the news, hides luke's tattoo from the knights view, and takes him in as his apprentice. brenda knows about this, but it's generally kept hush-hush since she's from a witch family and all. hershel's not chasing after the legacies, despite his interest in magic archaeology & history. he's chasing after jean, believing that the brim hat has answers to why he's forgotten a lot of his childhood.

hershel's watchful eye is randall, who is also his best friend and they snuck out at lot in their assembly days to hang out. randall is extremely into hershel, but it's not public information to the apprentices. this is an open secret to the other witches, due to how quick rumors spread.

i'll have more notes below in bullet points, because i don't like writing paragraphs if they're not in narrative form.

additional notes:

luke's full name is lucrentius. he goes by luke, which isn't a mouthful to call him by. lucrentius also means 'wealth', tying into the themes about knowledge and wisdom that's in both original sources!

emmy is a member of the knights moralis whose spearmanship is well-respected and her physical combat skills are something to behold. she's erased memories before, but tries her best to not feel guilty about it.

desmond leads a double life of brim hat and pointed hat. he's not suspected due to his fame and previous apprenticeship underneath the sage of friendship. jean descole is his brim hat persona, due to the nature of brim hats never revealing their faces.

+ desmond also uses transformation magic - which is forbidden - to shift into different forms. it's tattooed across his entire body, except for his face and hands, which is why he's selective & private about his connections.

hershel's other apprentices include: flora, alfendi, and katrielle. all three are his adopted children with different circumstances.

claire is technically deceased, but she's been revived with time reversal magic - it was bill hawks' idea to experiment with it. she's in a loop, repeating the same day with her memories in-tact. shame.

clive is a pointed hat on the tip of becoming a brim hat, mostly to beat the shit out of bill hawks. the dove house is also a bloodline from the day of the pact, like the reinhold house.

luke's magic tattoo allows him to communicate and understand animals. yes, clark also has one, but it's less advanced.

aurora is a golem, another feat of forbidden magic, from the azran empire. she's pretending to be an apprentice under desmond's watch and isn't too well-versed in the modern world.

there is no targent, but brim hats are independent and know each other by name. bronev reinel is one of them - he's responsible for a lot of things in this au. lol.

#asks #wha au #professor layton #witch hat atelier #info dump #oops

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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Watch "The Nashville Teens - Tobacco Road (1964) 4K" on YouTube

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They're talking about their daddy and he's got stills and everything up there so I'm going to try and make the booze and they have to be up there and they're going to try and scan and stuff and compete and in the same way and what we say is we shouldn't interfere but we have a lot of alcohol to sell me a ton of it it's in that area sort of we can go west and south it takes quite a while it's not really stuck but it is a special brew and we started it because our son requested it he says they use it for something that's fine it makes them motivated so smuggle we don't see if they want to do you want to see if they want to no we do

Thor Freya

We want to and we want to see if it's real and not the max and we want to see what you want for it and unfortunately we bring it over to drink to do crazy stuff on the East Coast and no it doesn't tell have your own hard knock kicker 5150 I got an idea though I guess you're right the Lord is with you and also with you and it says to her if I'd be making money selling Hard knock kicker 5150

So I'm going to try and get him into it

Bja

Haha he was actually the guy who helped Randall text call no that was not him it was John c Reilly who want to take it over and he doesn't want to do it she's a weekly and PGA wants to take it over

William Chan Lin

What's funny is a huge fight erupts every time you mention it all over the place with everybody we're going to have to start smuggling them in. It's wicked hot so so just put some money aside from the sales and. And he says that and that's good we can do that and there are other things that we can do there are parts that look the same and we can make one that's kind of different but they have a lot of these parts and it says what about the frame and say they have a lot of frames and they're similar and attractive the same they're using for other chopper type bikes a little stronger I'm going to try and assemble one right now you're right he needs and they're right they need to have some kind of anchor form I really need to make a small amount even if Ken was doing it cuz they're greedy bastards

Uriel and Goddess Wife

I do see what they're saying you can't do it well I'm not doing it directly

Now I get what you're saying the parts are around they just all over the place and all I have to do is have a deliver it's true too most of the parts are still being made and close fax similes and he says we don't use those tires anymore, is the seat is antiquated it's way too small it's not padded at all and it says you have to put a chopper seat on beware of your fat ass cruiser seats. I do see what you're saying those seats are freaking gay looking but everybody rides with China with light agile and muscle there and don't want our asses to be abused. This and I'll probably assemble one and I'm going to send it over to him and see if it's right it's so damn close okay nobody would know the damn difference and that's kind of a good thing too so I can knock off and he's doing and the name is different than the same so he can call it a hard knock and then it would be normal and just spell it different I mean these people would accept it and he says they accept hard not kicker 5150 it's other people who don't want them to have the name and I see that I will he says I guess I guess you're right then don't talk about it so I'm going to put it together and he's excited he thinks it's fun it is fun

Bruce Lee

There's a huge amount of s*** around here no but these dogs are walking around and they're taking craps in the store and somebody gets on your shoes so everybody have to wash your floor

Trump

Could you shut up you idiot

Alicia

This thing is making me sick

Tricia we want the Johnny pads to pagster and it has to come from jet Li

Is the other guy and the other guy it'll be our guy

I talked to both and we're getting to roll it it's starting to assemble one now

Hera going to hold on to your money and try and get it to you it's ridiculous these people don't want to pay anything let's have someone pay you what he says it's true too probably have to be there and some other people that's true too

#Youtube

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paraphernaliawagon · 2 years

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the current Lord Dunsany, Randall Plunkett, has been getting a lot of media attention for his campaign to rewild his estate. but oddly, these articles and videos never mention his great- (or great-great?)grandfather being one of the most influential fantasy authors of the 20th century. you’d think that would the first thing they’d mention.

you hardly ever see anyone talk about Lord Dunsany these days except about his influence on Lovecraft. a sort of recursive fandom. like “oh i read all of lovecraft’s stuff, might as well read the guy he got some of his best ideas from”

my opinion on Dunsany? he’s a mixed bag. his stories exist on a sliding scale from “nearly unreadable, overwrought ultra-victorian orientalist bullshit” to “pretty damn good.” but he was so prolific there’s probably at least one story he wrote to please any reader. my favorites include “idle days on the Yann” and the one about a guy who buys a magic window that looks out on another world. most of “time and the gods” and “the gods of pegana” are good. dude fucking loved making up gods.

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ringer04 · 3 years

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I posted 1,075 times in 2021

488 posts created (45%)

587 posts reblogged (55%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.2 posts.

I added 2,209 tags in 2021

#steph makes edits - 423 posts

#my edit - 422 posts

#wwe - 385 posts

#randy orton - 270 posts

#aew - 151 posts

#wwe raw - 121 posts

#ooo pretty - 112 posts

#the legend killer - 110 posts

#the viper - 108 posts

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Longest Tag: 95 characters

#honestly i'm so into it that i'm going to go into an uncontrollable rage when it doesn't happen

My Top Posts in 2021

Roman Reigns

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Roman Reigns

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Edge

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King Xavier Woods

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Eddie Kingston

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Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #this is kinda fun #it’s been a year kids #but this brought me joy #good lord i talk about randal a lot #wouldn’t have it any other way #thanks for chillin with me all #❤️❤️❤️#wishing the best for everyone in 2022 #and happiest of holidays to you all

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amessywritersmind · 3 years

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Hurricane - Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

A/N: I’ve recently re-fallen in love with the beauty of the movie Dazed and Confused, and there’s like literally no work for it so I decided to write my own about one of my favorite characters! It’s a friends-lovers type thing sooooo.... Enjoy ;)

I exited my car and walked towards the school entrance with a little more pep in my step today. Around me, I could hear the chatter and excitement of the kids scattered across the parking lot, a few more days and school would be out. Soon, a lot of them would be seniors, including me.

As I was walking, I saw Pickford’s bright yellow car pulling in, Pickford and Michelle inside. Thank the lord! I smiled as he sped into the parking lot, walking over to the car and leaning against the window.

“Ahhhh, Pickford! Just the man I wanted to see on this fine morning!” I said dramatically, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes putting the car into park.

“Hey Michelle!” I said to her as Pickford turned the car off, looking over to me. She smiled back, laughing at Kevin’s reaction to me.

“What do ya want now (y/n)?” He said in fake annoyance.

I nudged him gently, laughing.

“Light me, I left my lighter at home.” I said, pulling a joint out of my pocket and placing it in between my lips, leaning closer so he could light the end.

“M’Lady” He laughed dramatically, producing a lighter and sparking the end.

“Thanks man, you’re the best” You said standing back up right and smiling gratefully, taking a few drags off the thing.

“Yeah yeah, you only want me for my weed and my lighters.” He fake pouted dramatically, earning another giggle from me and Michelle.

“You know you love me!” I exclaimed, reaching in the window and ruffling his hair, much to his annoyance.

“Anyways, I gotta go find some people, I’ll catch you guys later!” I called, backing away and going to find some other friends.

I took a couple drags off the joint, making my way through the school gates and saying hi to people I knew along the way. Mid laugh (at something someone had said) I felt the joint being pulled out of my mouth. I turned quickly only to see one of my very best friends, Randall Floyd, or Pink as we all call him. I smiled at the sight of my joint hanging out of his mouth, a smirk on his lips.

“And what do you think you’re doing Mister? I chuckled, crossing my arms and giving him a look.

“Well, you know what they say (y/n), sharing is caring.” He said jokingly, taking a big hit off of it.

“Heyyyy!” I exclaimed, laughing and reaching for it.

“Don’t smoke it all! I barely got a few hits in.” I pouted as he pulled it from my reach. He laughed and threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and passing the joint back to me.

“Fine, I’ll give it back Mrs. Grouch” He said, earning a nudge in the side from me.

‘You’re lucky I love you” I grumbled out, looking at him. He laughed. keeping his arm around my shoulder and walking towards the doors to the school.

“So I was wonderin’ if you’re free tonight? Maybe you can drop by mine later tonight? I’ve got some new records to listen to and a sixer just begging for us to drink it.’ Pink said, as if he’d really have to coax me into coming over. I laughed at his ‘puppy dog eyes’ all the same.

“What, no plans with the leech tonight?” I joked around, referring to his ever annoying girlfriend.

“Nahh, needed a break for one night” He said dismissively, earning a laugh from me.

“Alright, It sounds like a plan! Be there at 6?” I confirmed, stopping as we heard someone call Pink’s name. He waved to them to hold on before finally removing his arm from my shoulders.

“Sounds great! Can’t wait.” He confirmed with a smile, turning towards me and stealing the joint again, taking another hit before passing it back to me.

“See you then.” I called to him as he walked backwards, shooting finger guns my way and nearly tripping on his own feet. I laughed at how dorky he really could be at times.

I took the last drag before putting the joint out and walking into the building, nearly running straight into Slater.

“Slater! My man! How’s it going?” I said to him, doing the funky little hand shake we made up a few years back.

“Good, man! Hey! I got that stuff for you.” He said smiling like a maniac, pulling a little bag out of his pocket and handing it to me.

“You are the best my dude!” I laughed out, putting the baggie into my bag.

“Anything for you! Hey man, I’ll check ya later!” He said, shooting me finger guns and walking away. I really was friends with a bunch of dorks.

I sighed, continuing my walk to first period, now all I had to do was survive the day.

Later that day

The final bell rung out, everyone including me rushing to pack their stuff up and get out. As I was walking out of the building I saw Slater, Pickford, and Michelle hanging out in the parking lot over by Pickford’s car and decided to go say hi real quick.

“Only a few more days dudes, and then we’re seniors!’ I exclaimed as I walked up to the group. “Hey Michelle, can I bum a cig?”

She handed me one and lighter. “Thanks.”

“It’s gonna be so weird man, we’re gonna be like so....old” Slater said slowly, laughing after he realized what he said. I laughed too. I handed the lighter back to Michelle and took a drag off the stick.

“All I know is, we’ll be the top of the food chain, and i’m gonna throw a fat party to celebrate!” Pickford laughed, lighting up a joint of his own.

As I was about to reply, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, lifting me up slightly before setting me back down. I let out a little shout, startled, holding my cigarette out to avoid burning whoever the culprit was.

“Floyd! I swear to god I’ll kill you!” I said knowing it could be no one else.

“Oooooo, she used your last name. You’re in trouble, man!” Slater called out, laughing as Pink placed me down again and moved to my side, throwing an arm over my shoulder, as he usually did.

“Awe, look at the two love birds who won’t admit they’re lovebirds!” Pickford said mockingly, faking a gag at the end.

“Oh shove it Pickford” Pink said dismissively, waving off the comment.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want his toy to hear that.” I fake whispered to the group as they laughed along. I was referring to Simone and they all new it. They all new I couldn’t stand her, including Pink, and most of the group felt the same way.

“Alright alright, that’s enough of that.” Pink started, trying to keep the peace as always.

“Look! It’s my favorite group of little stoners!” A voice called to the left, Donnie joining the small gathering, a chorus of ‘hey Don’s’ and ‘what’s up man’s’ emitting from the group.

“Hey Don! How ya been? Haven’t seen you in a while.” I said as he reached the circle.

“Still waiting on your call, baby.” He said winking and flicking his tongue at me. I heard Pink scoff at this from beside me, but I just laughed. Donnie was Donnie after all.

“In your dreams man.” I replied smoothly.

“Oh you know it sweatheart! Anyways, I’m here for you Slater. Where’s my drugs?” He called over to the stoner, who was currently passing a joint to Michelle.

“Follow me, man.” He said with a guilty grin, him and Donnie walking away.

“Well, as much as I love hanging out with you nerds, I gotta get goin.” I said, moving to walk towards my car. Pink hooked his fingers into the belt loops on the side of my jeans, pulling me back towards him.

‘We still on for tonight?” He asked.

“Yes, sir!” I said feigning seriousness, fake saluting him. He laughed at this.

“Alright then. I shall see you tonight.” He smiled, releasing his hold on the belt loops and backing up slightly.

“See you then. Later, guys!” I called over my shoulder and hopping in my car, the radio coming to life at full volume as the car roared to life.

Today had been a fairly good day but who was I to lie, I was beyond exited for the night to come. I raced home and instantly started getting ready-showering and then getting dressed. I had a little more time to kill before I needed to head over to Pink’s so I took out the new goods from Slater and rolled a few more joints, placing 2 in the “Emergency” supply and packing the rest into my purse before slipping my shoes on and heading out.

I eventually pulled up outside Pink’s house, only to see him and Slater talking out by Pink’s car.

“Getting the party started without me, boys?” I smirked, making my way over to the little group.

“(y/n), man! It feels like it’s been forever since I saw you man.” Slater called, laughing almost nervously. Pink looked over at me as well, shooting me his award winning smile.

“Slater, I literally saw you a few hours ago” I laughed, pulling him into a hug anyways.

“My turn!” Pink exclaimed once I’d let go of Slater, holding his arms open wide with a little smile on his face. I rolled my eyes, laughing, but walking into his arms anyways, my heart skipping a beat momentarily. I just chose to ignore that bit.

“So, what’re you doing here? Not that your company isn’t a pleasure, “ I started, looking at Slater. “but i thought it was just gonna be us tonight?” I finished, looking at Pink.

“It is, he was just dropping off some supplies” Pink answered devilishly.

“Yeah, don’t worry (y/n), I’m not here to steal your man time, man” He laughed out, beginning to step away.

“You wish Slater!” I said, blushing slightly. He just shook his head, beginning to walk away. The blush intensified even more when Pink put his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer. He was usually pretty touchy, but it seemed to be amped up even more tonight.

“Thanks again, man. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Emporium?” Pink called as Slater was walking away.

“For sure man! Have fun, but not too much fun, man!” He called back, making his way around the corner.

Pink still hadn’t let go of me so I turned, putting a hand on his chest and laughing at his dopey facial expression.

“Hmmmmm, seems like someone really did start the party without me” I laughed, pinching his cheek lightly, him swatting my hand away.

“Ok maybe I smoked a tinyyyy bit, but there’s still plenty to go around” He said smirking and hooking his fingers into the front belt loops of my pants. I looked up at him, suddenly having an overwhelming urge to lean in. I snapped myself out of it though, if any of that was going to be happening tonight I’d have to be a lot more out of it than my current state.

“Well, why are we still out here then? The weed isn’t going to smoke itself!” I chuckled, breaking away from him and making my way into his house, directly to his room.

I plopped onto his bed, leaning against the headboard as Pink followed me in, closing the door and lighting some incense to mask the smell. As soon as it was good and burning, I pulled out my freshly rolled stash, lighting it and taking a drag as Pink put one of the new records on the player.

Once it was settled, he turned towards me.

“Hey now! Don’t be greedy” He laughed at me, launching himself on top of me on the bed, opening his mouth for me to place the joint in it. I complied with his wishes, sticking it in his mouth and leaning back with a smile on my face, his body still very much on top of mine.

Eventually, he moved to a more comfortable position at my side. We listened to the records, back to back, giving our respective opinions on each of the albums, going through about 4 joints and 3 beers each. By the time the last song on the last of his new records rang out, we were fairly buzzed.

“Well, that’s all of em. Now, what to do, what to do?” Pink stated, looking over to me with an idea in his eyes.

“Have anything specific in mind?” I asked absentmindedly, more focused on the brightly colored poster on the wall.

“I have an idea, yeah” He answered vaguely. I giggled lightly at his lack of explanation.

“Are you planning on sharing that idea with me or are you just gonna keep it locked up in that brain of yours?” I questioned teasingly, leaning forward to tap his temple lightly. He swatted my hand away with a laugh.

“I’ll do better, I’ll show you!” He exclaimed, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the window. I was curious now.

Before I could question his intentions further, he slid the window open and climbed out on to the roof, turning back and reaching his hand in the window, motioning for me to follow. I grabbed his hand and climbed out as well. He began walking towards the middle of the roof, my hand still clasped tightly in his own.

He sat down finally, pulling my arm along with him. I sat down quietly, leaning against his shoulder lightly. For a few long moments, there was nothing but silence. Pink stared up at the sky, lost in thought.

“Whatcha thinking about?” I asked quietly, poking his side gently.

“I don’t love her.” He answered immediately.

“What?” I replied, taken aback by the question.

“Simone. I don’t love her, I never did. In fact, we’ve been split for months, but she refuses to let me go. I don’t love her because..... well, because I love someone else” He laughed out almost incredulously, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Something about that statement sent a ping straight to my heart.

“Well then, that’s ok! I’m sure this girl likes you back. Who wouldn’t? Don’t worry yourself too-” before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine. They moved in sync briefly before he pulled away.

“It’s you. You are the girl I’m talking about. I think I’ve always known it’s you, I just never realized it.” He let out with no hesitation. As I processed what he was saying to me, my heart was dancing in my chest. This was not how I planned for the night to go, not that I’m complaining at all.

“I don’t think there's any question that I feel the same then?” I asked in a daze, still shocked by the events that had just transpired. Pink chuckled at this, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer.

“No, I don’t think so. Though, I think I should double check, just to make sure.” He stated, a goofy smile finding its way onto his face. At that, he leaned down once more, placing his lips on mine once again.

336 notes · View notes

alittlecursed · 4 years

Note

How would the Disney villains (Captain Hook,Claude frollo,Clayton,dr facilier,hades,villain of your choice.)found out their s/o was pregnant and what would they be like during and after the pregnancy

Captain Hook

He notices your mood swings and morning sickness and is concerned about it until Smee drops the bomb

He’s terrified because he doesn’t have a good history with children but deep, deep, deep down his happy, it just takes a while for him to get it out

While you’re pregnant, he puts Smee as your attendant to make sure you have everything you need, assigning two more when you’re are in the final three months

He brings you gifts and showers you with affection throughout because he loves you

Per your request, he gets the necessary items for the baby such as blankets, a crib, toys all that jazz a baby needs

When the baby is born, he falls in love with you even more and loves your newborn baby. He protects that baby with his life against anyone and everything!

Now he wonders if he can’t step up to the role of a father

Claude Frollo

Church gossip, he hears women talking about you and would have lashed out at them but he confronts you about first

He’s not the best father figure and he knows it, so during your pregnancy, he ignores you and drones out your talks of your future family because he has turmoil inside of him

He basically locks you up in your home because he wants to make sure nothing happens to you or the baby...and because he has prejudice against gypsies (there’s another word for these people I forgot what it was) and believes they’d attempt to kill you

After the baby is born, he sighs a breath of relief because the baby is normal *coughjerkcough*

Frollo leaves you to take care of the baby but will help out with whatever you ask because you ask him (more like demand him)

Clayton

You tell him the minute you figure it out because you two have been trying for a while now

Oh he is ecstatic! He picks you up and spins you around, smothering you in kisses

He takes care of you during your pregnancy, always by your side unless he needs to attend to business

Clayton already had plans to teach his child hunting and surviving skills, doesn’t matter the gender of the baby, Clayton could care less about the gender. You remind him he’s gonna have to wait a few years for the baby to grow

He’s there when the baby is born to help you through the process, and he’ll never admit it but he was nervous to hold the baby for the first time

Your baby is the smallest and softest thing he has ever held in his life!

Dr. Facilier

I feel like Facilier’s friends on the other side and his shadow figure it out first even before you do

He gives a hearty chuckle at the news but he doesn't let you see the worry on his face

He decides your baby is gonna live a better life than his but still have voodoo and black magic in the back pocket. So Facilier works long hours to get money to provide for the baby and the future, and you of course

Facilier is wary of leaving you all alone with his friends on the other side, even more when the baby is born because of the screw-up deals he’s made with them so he gets his hands on protection talismans of good magic to protect you both

He’s not the most patient man but he has to be for the baby, and every time he looks at your baby he remembers he did something good

Hades

The Fates drop lots of indirect and direct hints, it’s amusing but also ‘get out of my business’

His fire simmers down to a spark before it engulfs his entire being, both in thrill and shock, and confronts you which is a surprise to you too because you didn’t know

Because he is the Lord of the Underworld he can’t exactly stop working so he likes to have you by his side but he knows you need rest. So when he’s away from you for a long time he gets pissy and has a hard time controlling his anger which does in the poor work he is doing

He’s got enemies and any of them can be plotting to take you and his baby out so that adds to his pissy attitude. So he locks you up during and after your pregnancy without consulting you first

At a young age (read: a few weeks) Hades starts teaching the baby how to handle their powers and defensive and offensive techniques

Pain and Panic basically become the kid’s punching bag

Randall - I was gonna do Jafar but I thought Randall would be cute for this 😁

You tell him because you’re a bit nervous and want to know his reaction. He’s shocked, neither a good shock nor a bad shock, just shocked.

But you know his good with kids, or at least with familial kids because he loves his nephew, and you tell him he’ll be a good father

He gets a bit overprotective of you during your pregnancy, not letting anyone near you whether they are strangers or friends

Since he is a lizard monster and lizards have eggs, two eggs come out of you. Both of you take the job of keeping them warm and cozy until they hatch. You catch Randall rubbing his hands round the eggs and humming

He tries so hard to not cry when the eggs hatch but one or two tears escape. He’s gonna love them and spoil them just as much as he did with his nephew who comes by every once in a while

Randall is exceptionally proud when both of his children have the ability to become invisible

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street.

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had.

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys.

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked.

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books.

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg.

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met.

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters.

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again.

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn.

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice.

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot.

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice.

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.”

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?”

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went.

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away.

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder.

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground.

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little.

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger.

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet.

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you.

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming.

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair.

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him.

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.”

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there.

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel.

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous.

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice.

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious.

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed.

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second.

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.”

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly.

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered.

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question.

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches.

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich.

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table.

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout.

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin.

“Is it any good?” Soda asked.

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home.

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other.

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner.

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over.

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly.

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up.

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air.

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.”

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped.

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention.

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book.

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended.

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars.

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest.

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute.

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement.

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him.

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red.

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed.

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered.

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you.

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces.

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked.

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step.

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with.

“Daddy?”

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere.

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass.

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you.

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards.

“What happened to you?”

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.”

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf.

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door.

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door.

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas.

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you.

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly.

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with.

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated.

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again.

“I have to, Sodapop.”

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade.

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you.

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled.

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged.

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys.

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes.

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl.

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette.

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile.

“You’re one of us now.”

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right.

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside.

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen.

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#rob lowe #patrick swayze #the outsiders #80s imagines #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #darry curtis #dally winston #Ponyboy Curtis #johnny cade #stay gold #peter pan #lost boy #neverland

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medusinestories · 3 years

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Onwards to the episode in which we get to see Flint and Silver each having a very bad day (as well as two literal dicks that nobody had asked to see).

Black Sails VII (s1 ep07)

- We open on Pastor Lambrick's sweaty face as he intensely rehearses the Easter sermon and he’s obviously eaten up by what he did with Miranda. His sermon, unsurprisingly, focuses on sin, keeping sin hidden, and the hell that awaits the sinner. Which leads us nicely onto Flint, who’s distracted (by his own sin? by thoughts of Miranda? both?) during a meeting with Eleanor. Eleanor is pissed that Miranda let Richard Guthrie send a message to the Andromache and then waltz into town to close up his business; Flint tries to take the heat off Miranda, once again protecting her (at this point, he may not know the contents of the letter).

- During this meeting, Flint is startled when Silver first speaks up to say that the mob in the street was bad - clearly Silver is a sort of intruder in this meeting. But Eleanor, after Silver reminds her by unsubtly clearing his throat, tells Flint that he’s not to harm Silver because he was instrumental in setting up the Consortium. Silver looks so pleased with himself in these scenes, and Flint quite defeated when he tells Silver to follow him back to their camp. I love it.

- To parallel Flint/Miranda’s Sulky Sex scene from ep4, we have Anne/Rackham’s frustrating/disconnected sex scene. It shows us a few things about them mainly that Anne wants to keep a lot of control over what happens, hence Rackham being tied up (though of course this might also be his kink), her wearing a shirt that covers up most of her body, and the reverse cowgirl position that means that she’s both in control of what happens and completely avoids eye contact. The position reminds us of the Flint/Miranda scene, where Miranda was also on top, but their scene involved more eye contact (yes glaring counts, he’s still intensely focused on Miranda), gentle touching (on Miranda’s side) and her being naked and open to him. Another parallel is that both Flint and Rackham aren’t in the right frame of mind for sex, Flint being angry and Rackham lost in a sea of worries (and probably also somewhat angry/disappointed at Anne for forcing him into the plot to kill their crewmates). The difference between Flint and Rackham is that while Flint doesn’t seem to have any trouble performing, Rackham is miles away and doesn’t even notice that he’s lost his erection - again. Anne is frustrated by this, and apparently knows him well enough that she offers to put something up his arse, but he’s clearly not in the mood, and she leaves in a huff, abandoning him all tied up as a sort of revenge for his performance problems. Whatever the problem is between them isn’t put into words (because Anne can’t yet, for starters), unlike the one between Flint and Miranda. The intimacy between Rackham and Anne, so often described as close partners, seems much more distant to me than the one shown between Flint and Miranda. I’m not sure whether it’s because of anyone’s sexual orientation, or just the fact that they’re fucking but they’ve never discussed the big important things, such as Anne’s identity/feelings/etc.

- In this episode, Dufresne gains a lot of power: with a freshly (and badly) shaved head and a new tattoo, he’s been promoted to Quartermaster on the Walrus in Billy’s place. And very quickly he has a problem to deal with: Randall revealing that Silver stole the page. Gates had actually already told this to Dufresne, as is revealed at the end of the episode, which might explain why Dufresne is relatively calm during the whole conversation, while DeGroot wants Silver and Flint hanged and Howell is surprisingly ruthless: he brings up the idea that it may be better to kill off Randall in order to get to the treasure, if they can’t make sure he’ll keep quiet about Silver being the thief. Dufresne is actually quite kind towards Silver in the scene where he puts Silver’s memory to the test - a test that could result in his death if he fails it and that Silver constantly grumbles against (I love his grumbling!). Basically, at this point Dufresne remains quite a sympathetic character, which will change a lot as the show goes on, especially after Jannes Eiselen had to leave the show (such a sad story, RIP Jannes).

- In the meantime, the Flint and Gates relationship is crumbling. It's sad to see, especially since they're shown sharing chuckles as they talk about Dufresne's appointment in the beginning of the episode. But then Gates brings up the subject of Miranda and demands explanations about the letter Billy found. We're not shown exactly what Flint answers, but it's clear that he's actually trying his best to give him an explanation without incriminating Miranda too badly. The sad thing is that Flint is actually telling the truth: he actually wasn't involved in any betrayal of his crew and and can only guess at Miranda's motivations. But the fact that he's lied time and again in previous situations, including on the Maria Aleyne where he claimed Lord Alfred drew a weapon on him (and Gates secretly verified that this was a lie), and used men as pawns to advance his and Miranda's plans, is now catching up to him. Flint seems truly hurt when Gates accuses him of using the men for his own purposes, and turns spiteful, telling Gates that he should have been "a better father" to Billy and helped him "understand the world he was living in" (suggesting that such a forthright character as Billy can't really survive in a world of pirates who are all ready to stab each other in the back). After that slap in the face, Gates says he's exhausted from Flint and threatens to take it to the crew. Somehow, this pushes Flint to bare all: he tells Gates about his plan to keep a part of the treasure and use it to build up Nassau, depicting himself as a sort of saviour, doing it for the men's good: they'd rather be rich men in a safe place than dead thieves hanging from a noose. Gates sees this as delusions of grandeur, and tells him that while he'll see the Urca plot through, after that they're done. I actually think he sees Flint’s point, since he doesn’t just throw him to the crew, but won’t admit that out loud. The whole of this scene hurts bad, because you can tell that Flint is desperate and sad to be losing his closest ally and friend, and that Gates is hurting from the loss of Billy and exhausted from the toxic relationship he has with Flint, where he's played enabler to his manipulations for years.

- While Flint and Gates’ alliance is breaking, Silver has to forge one with Randall or die. Randall finds out in the beginning of the episode that he’s been voted out of the crew. This is apparently due to DeGroot’s fears that Randall could be a fire hazard, which the crew took disproportionately to heart. Randall is furious with Silver, who smugly tells him that in these situations, a setback often comes with a new or unexpected opportunity. He’s right, but at this point he doesn’t know that he is the opportunity Randall’s going to latch on. Randall reveals that Silver is a thief, and Silver denies it, saying that Randall is both a halfwit and was in a haze of opium when he heard what he thought he heard; he even tries to convince Randall that he was mistaken (this, my friends, is gaslighting). However, by revealing that Silver was the thief, Randall sets a chain of events into motion which could either end with his death (if Howell has his way, since Randall is an inconvenient witness) or Silver’s (if DeGroot tips the balance, not trusting Silver to remember the coordinates and not wanting to sacrifice Randall for nothing). Silver figures out that these are the outcomes, and tries to talk sense into Randall by making a deal with him: he’ll care for Randall and make sure he can stay on the ship. But it’s only when Silver finally admits that he is the thief and that Randall was right, that Randall accepts the deal. Later, Silver realises that Randall might have orchestrated the whole thing: he’s now got Silver to serve him, doesn’t have to take any risks on the ship, and gets to remain with the crew. Silver wonders if Randall is a genius rather than a halfwit (a word thrown about a lot to describe him). And it seems quite obvious, considering what happened, that Randall still has strong survival skills (an amputee with impaired cognitive skills doesn’t stand a chance of survival outside a crew and he must be aware of it), that he still has a good memory and an ability to pick out useful information and that he’s aware enough of what’s going on to be upset by the crew’s rejection and Silver’s attempt to gaslight him. I think it’s important to recognise that Randall is more than a comic relief or a grotesque character: he’s a disabled man who's lost parts of his cognitive ability and is struggling to survive.

- This episode focuses on Vane facing his past. He seeks out the island where he grew up and its master, Albinus. I’d forgotten or never really registered that Albinus was a pirate and that the men who work for him were mostly his crew - and likely slaves (or children, hence Vane?) that he managed to capture/press into service. He’s retired from pirating and set up a system where his men cut down trees for timber all day, without wages. It’s not clear exactly how he holds so much power over these men, although it seems that everyone is terrified of him. He’s extremely strong physically, seems shrewd, speaks rather well, and his tattoos suggest that maybe he’s involved in some kind of ritual (truly religious or just for show?) which would make him all the more scary to superstitious people. Vane is clearly still frightened: he barely makes eye contact and practically stutters when he first tries to make the deal with Albinus, which is that he’ll take some of Albinus’ men as crew and send Albinus part of their earnings as tribute. It says a lot about Albinus that Vane, after years of having run away, is still so scares that he’s willing to pay him a tribute. But he changes his mind as he stares at a boy bearing the same brand as he does: he tries to persuade the men that Nassau is a pace of pleasures rather than hard labour, and confronts Albinus. The fight is brutal and ends with Vane buried naked, just after Albinus tells him that he’s proud of him. But of course Vane wouldn’t be Vane if he didn’t rise from the dead at the last minute and kill Albinus, goaded on by his inner Eleanor voice.

- In the meantime, Mr Scott returns to Eleanor, apologising for what he did, telling her he betrayed her out of love. However he also reminds her of his slave status: technically, he belongs to her. The argument upsets her, and he quite cleverly uses this moment to ask her to free the slaves who were on the Andromache. And it works: by the end of the episode, she’s made arrangements for the men to work on ships and has bought the women’s freedom and found them jobs in her tavern. But Mr Scott has still decided to leave Eleanor to join Hornigold’s crew, to refrain from meddling with Eleanor’s affairs, since he disagrees with her so strongly re: the Urca. Hornigold approached him earlier in the episode, and the introduction to that scene is quite interesting: Hornigold says to Mr Scott “I’ll need to know your secret” and Mr Scott looks startled and frightened. It seems that he’s startled because he’d been giving food to the slaves, but in light of S3, it could be a much greater secret that’s being referred to. Mr Scott is relieved when he realises that Hornigold is simply talking about tolerating Eleanor, who he clearly can’t stand.

- Flint’s bad day continues, of course, with the big confrontation he has with Miranda. He’s furious about the letter (of which he now knows the contents thanks to Gates), telling her that it could have got him killed, or destroyed the plans they’d made and asking her whether she was trying to embarrass him. This sounds so weirdly petty, and yet it also sounds exactly like the kind of argument that would come up in a bickering couple. Miranda answers that she was trying to help him out of that life, because she wants to move on. This is where Miranda utters the famous “there is no life here, there is no joy here, there is no love here”. I noticed that, covered by Flint yelling at her, and distorted because her voice has gone very shrill, Miranda says another line, which sounds like “you used to love, then”. If that really is what she says, it’s extra-extra-extra heartbreaking to hear (if someone wants to check it for me, it’s around 35:40). It’s obvious that Flint and Miranda’s views on life are very different, and I can’t help but think back to the fact that, as a carpenter’s son from the country, Flint has had to struggle all his life to become who he is. So when he says that you can’t get a life without having a war, and Miranda tells him he’s wrong, she’s speaking entirely from the point of view of her privilege. She’s never needed to fight as hard as he has to be happy, because she got extremely lucky in marrying Thomas. And when she says that Thomas would agree with her, I’m certain she’s right. But life has never been like that for Flint, and there’s no way he’ll ever entirely agree with their point of view. Rewatching this scene is tough, btw, because they both have great points, they’re both hurting so much, and there’s so much to take in between the body language, the facial expressions, the tones of voice and the actual words that it’s a whole whirlwind. And it feels very, very real.

- It’s absolutely hilarious to see Rackham get robbed by the whores taking advantage of his lack of knowledge (and research). He should absolutely have done a better job and has no clue how to run a brothel. He’s lucky Max takes things in hand after having heard from Idelle that the girls were taking advantage.

- Then we have the beautiful Drunk Flint scene. Eleanor notices him feeling very sorry for himself after Gates has pretty much broken up with him and he’s still reeling from fighting with by Miranda. I think Flint feels very misunderstood here. He thought that he was doing something good, to save Nassau and avenge Thomas, and doesn’t understand why they can’t see it, why they only see the terrible methods he uses to reach his goals. So he’s full of doubt, clearly wondering if he’s the villain of the story, and puts the question to Eleanor: is their plan worth it? Eleanor is the only person who still believes in him, which leads us to the only scene that I would ever call straight-baiting. Flint hovers near Eleanor, breathing heavily, and a variety of emotions play over her face during this moment of tension, as she seems to think this is leading to a kiss. It does, he gives her a chaste little forehead kiss and leaves. All the elements are in place to make your average viewer start shipping these two. I actually find it hilarious that the ship barely exists in the fandom (though I wasn’t there in the beginning of the fandom and I guess the viewership changed a lot between S1 and S4).

- The scene with Flint and Gates glaring at each other from their respective ships and Parson’s Farewell playing in the background... epic! We know this is the beginning of a big struggle between them, especially since we find out that Gates has pretty much decided that he’ll hand Flint over to the crew once they get the money. But nnnnggh that scene! The ships leaving on their hunt! Awesome and heartbreaking!

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turtle-paced · 4 years

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I just can’t like stannis I feel like wall the good things (apart from war) that people praise him for is Davos’s idea or nagging. He who bans whoring, takes up a fire priestess Melisandre (who murders his brother) very quickly basically because she says he’s so great. We don’t get any nice moments with Shireen even if it’s stannis not knowing how to hug properly but trying ec.t he imprisones Davos who nearly died for him because his mistress said he’s going to kill her. He’s a bad friend. And-

- he’s a bad brother. But I’d really like it if you disagree with any of these so I can learn, please. I like your meta and your explanations. Also he’s a misogynist, not as worse as Randall but still high up there. I’d respect him with Mel if he didn’t complicate and muddle the lines between counciler and ‘true queen’ mistress even though he is highly against sleeping around and well basically against women. He is a massive hypocrite, bordering Tywin level. Am I wrong? Please tell me if I am x

There’s nothing wrong with not liking a character. Not liking Stannis doesn’t make you a bad reader or a bad fan. Especially with the misogyny, I can see where you’re coming from with that. I don’t blame you.

One of the things I can actually connect to quite a bit with Stannis is how terrible he is at expressing his own feelings in any given relationship. I take him seriously when he says he loved Robert, and showed that love by taking up so much slack in governing. I believe he loves Shireen, and shows that love in his outrage that anyone would propose to betrothe her to someone he feels strongly is beneath her, and in his orders to put her on the throne should he die. I believe he cares about Davos, and shows that at least partly through the trust he places in Davos. What Stannis consistently fails to understand is that it’s not enough to treat people as he would like to be treated, he has to treat people as they would like to be treated. (Or at least communicate about how he’s expressing his affection vs. how his actions are received.) I have a lot of sympathy for that.

I also find the charge that Stannis’s good ideas are Davos’s ideas or nagging a little unfair.

For a moment Davos was too stunned to move. I woke this morning in his dungeon. "Your Grace, you cannot...I am no fit man to be a King's Hand."

"There is no man fitter." Stannis sheathed Lightbringer, gave Davos his hand, and pulled him to his feet.

"I am lowborn," Davos reminded him. "An upjumped smuggler. Your lords will never obey me."

"Then we will make new lords."

- Davos IV, AGoT

Appointing Davos as Hand, despite the fact he was born a peasant and remains illiterate, was definitely not Davos’s idea, for instance.

Surprisingly, Stannis smiled at that. "You're bold enough to be a Stark. Yes, I should have come sooner. If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty, when all I could think of was my rights. I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne."

- Jon XI, ASoS

Davos’s idea involved some steep personal criticism of Stannis. He all but said outright, you are being selfish. Stannis heard that criticism, accepted it, and changed course. Being able to do that is both good and important.

More generally, does a character have to generate every good idea for themselves, or is it okay for them to hear out a character talking good sense and good morals and think “yes, you’re right, this is the way to go”? Jon Snow’s first told that the Free Folk are ordinary people by Qhorin Halfhand; does that undermine the process of Jon accepting that as truth and taking it further? No, I think it’s fine that Stannis listens to others. Especially since Stannis didn’t just pay lip service to Davos’s argument, he packed up his armies and sailed on its strength.

I am seeing a bit of focus here on Melisandre as Stannis’s mistress, though, when she’s clearly more than that. And especially when it comes to imprisoning Davos - she had solid reason, if magically obtained, to believe he was going to make an attempt on her life. Was she supposed to stand back and let him try to stab her?

#ASoIaF #valyrianscrolls #stannis baratheon #melisandre #davos seaworth #a storm of swords #asks

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narastories · 3 years

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2020 Creator Wrap: Favourite Works

I’ve been tagged by @kholran weeks ago. Thanks for the tag, and I’m terribly sorry for putting it off so long.

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

For all The Shit that happened in 2020 from a fanfic-writing perspective this has been an amazing year for me. I’ve added 19 (!) works to my AO3 page, which I’m actually pretty proud of. At this point, I want to give a HUGE thanks and shout-out to @outlanderbingo and the two wonderful admins @levisqueaks and @mistresspandorawritesthings. You’ve made my year! <3 Thank you!

I’m actually struggling to articulate how much this means to me. Most of you are aware that English is not my first language (not even the second in terms of order lol). The 3 works from 2017 and 2018 on my AO3 all have been translations - as in I’ve written them first in my native language, posted it on my old LJ blog, and then later translated them and published them on AO3.

I found the process very slow and tedious (even though I have not regretted it - A bed and a penny had gotten so much love over these two years, it makes me tear up). When I found the Outlander Bingo Challenge I knew I would struggle to keep up and get even 5 stories out if I wrote them in two languages. Besides, OL was never big in the fanfic-writing community I was part of in my native language (that was part of the reason why I stopped writing in this fandom, and also probably why I still have so much to discuss and write about ^^” I never had people to talk about these characters in-depth okay??? :P)

1. So, as number one I will name whatever this may be simply because this was the first ever completed piece of prose I’ve written fully in English (not translated from my own writing). Again, I don’t think I can fully articulate how much this means to me.

I’m not living in my country of origin anymore and when we made the move (before shit hit the fan in March thank goodness) it was very much with a permanent intention. I wasn’t happy in that place, I’ve found a lot of things toxic in general and even in the writing community. This kind of made me confront the idea that I may never publish my writing again even online, because even though I could with the marvels of the internet, I simply needed a relatively clean cut and lots of time away. I’m just not in the headspace where I can keep engaging with that community.

All this to say, that I’ve made my peace with this prospect and would have been kind of fine writing only for myself. But then you all came along and inspired me to try... and the knowledge that I get to do this, that even though my grammar is crap and I mix up words and probably write bs half the time, I have a voice, that my writing voice translates into English, that’s pretty huge for me. That knowledge is the biggest gift you could have given me. Okay, back to the list, Nara, don’t make yourself cry...

2. rum, spices and river water - oh Lord John and wee Byrd... they have been my new-found love in 2020. I’m not nearly done with writing about them :P I like this one because it’s just tooth-rotting fluff in Jamaica, and they deserve to be happy.

3. two years without, one with (you) - this broke me in the best way possible. John/Percy fix-it during BotB. I didn’t even like Percy that much but then I started listening to the audiobooks and Jeff Woodman narrated him in such a way that I suddenly saw the potential.

4. wasting wine - come on, I can’t make a list without having something exceptionally explicit on it :P You could say this is the best of both worlds a John/Percy/Tom threesome. This was when I still thought I wouldn’t write anything else with Percy btw.

Okay, last one and I’m going to be terribly selfish, but this is my list, deal with it :P

5. his brother’s coat - I feel like the holiday blues pushed me off the deep end, but this was just such fun to write. After a brief dilemma of can I? and am I allowed to? I’ve written this little piece of Alex/Jack Randall fic, and I’m not going to lie, I’ve enjoyed every second of meticulously polishing the words on this terrible little idea :P As much as I love fluff and fix-it, I do want to get better at writing some darker and/or bittersweet flavours. Just because those are the stories that stay with me the longest, and I genuinely like reading those.

That’s my wrap-up for the year. Thank you all so much for your support, for your kindness, for the fun we shared this year <3

I have lost track of who has done this, so consider yourself tagged if you haven’t!

#my fics #what a crazy year #I love you all so much

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rejectedtreasures · 3 years

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Can the Bible be Trusted even though it was written by Men?

I find the hardest reason to share the gospel with people in this generation in which we are living is because many people don’t believe in the accuracy of the Bible. Many will say it’s been written by men. So I’m going to share why I believe the Bible and know that the Bible is not only accurate but is God’s Word to us.

The men that wrote it has earned my trust. Most of these men suffered for giving us the message written in Scripture. Most of them died for it. Torturous deaths. Why would they die like that for this message? What have they seen that made it worth dying for? What did they experience? Answer: They experienced the real true God of heaven and earth. They knew the truth because God showed them the truth. So when people say the Bible was written by men, I have decided to trust the men that suffered to give us the Lord’s message. Resource: Foxes book of martyrs By: John Fox and The Case for Christ by: Lee Strobel

Israel. When you study the history of Israel, whether through the Bible or secular history, you will find God’s promises coming to pass over and over. Whether it’s good or bad. Our God that created heaven and earth and us for that matter made His self known through Israel and the Jewish people. If you want to know what God is doing, look at Israel. Studying this subject has been the most exciting adventure of my life. I will be doing future articles talking about Israel and the true miracle of it’s existence.

Prophecy. The Bible is full of prophecies. Many of them have already been fulfilled. And many are being fulfilled as I write this article. (May 2021) I remember being a little girl back in the late 80s. My mom and I were discussing how the Antichrist will be able to track everyone on the planet. How every eye will see an event happening in real time at the same time. It was totally mind baffling back then. Now over 30 years later, there is no question how this could happen. I wish my mom was here to see what I see. She also said to me “Heather, when you start hearing about Israel a lot on the news, you know the end is near.” Oh how I treasure her words today. Bible prophecy is coming to pass at a rapid speed. Why all of a sudden you may ask after thousands of years? Jesus told us, when the fig leaves are blossomed you know summer is near. Matthew 24. Israel is back. 73 years now. Israel is the fig tree. It’s time for the return of our Lord❤️

I have a huge book of information that shows what has been found in archeological digs in Israel. (It’s called Zondervan Handbook of Biblical Archaeology by Randall Price with Wayne House.) Archeologists are always in constant pursuit to find the many pieces of treasures that point to places and people of the Bible. I will share in future blogs some amazing finds! Same for scientific evidence. (One reference is Scientific Facts In The Bible by Ray Comfort.) Science has not proven the Bible wrong. The Bible told us things concerning our universe way before a scientist ever did. Like the earth being round (Isaiah 40:22) and hanging on nothing (Job 26:7). We know many things from the Bible that scientists are now learning and seeing through their microscopes and telescopes today. Historical evidence also proves the Bible to be true. The book of Daniel is very exciting to read when it comes to historic world empires and events. I encourage you to take a deep dive in all of the above heaps of evidence. It will change the way you see everything and the way you think about your life and the world you live in.

The religious Jews protected the Scriptures. Before a scribe can even begin to start copying a manuscript or a scroll of the Torah, he must learn 4000 laws that will ensure no mistakes and to honor every Word written. If you’re interested in learning more about how the Words of the Bible was preserved, I encourage you to go to iSOW.org and take the History of the Bible course. I will also write more on this subject in future articles.

My heart. My testimony. My story is a long one with lots of twist and turns. However, when I look back over my life, the Word of God was always staring me right in the face the whole time. Then one day I finally started to dig deeper into what was in the Scriptures. Then my life started to make perfect sense. No more confusion. I knew my purpose. I now know where I came from. Why I’m here. Who I am. And whose I am. And where I’m going after I die. I know what I need and don’t need. What direction to take. How to make decisions. I now know why every thing I did on my own didn’t work out. How to live my life from here on out. That’s why I’m starting to write these articles, hoping I can reach someone, anyone, with the gospel of Jesus. This is where our hope is. Every answer to life’s questions. Our salvation. I’m just a nobody, trying to tell everybody, all about somebody who saved my soul. ❤️ if you don’t know the song, listen to it. Nobody by Casting Crowns.

The Bible has changed a lot of lives. I’ve heard a lot of testimonies. Amazing stories of the Lord through His Holy Spirit reaching down in someone’s heart and drawing them to Him self and changing everything. Rescuing them from addictions and toxic relationships. Toxic thinking. Jesus brings us clarity and direction. Am I saying life becomes perfect? NO. If anything, giving your life to Jesus and following Him sets us up to be hated and rejected. For some it has caused severe persecution, imprisonment and even death. But with anyone that truly has accepted the gospel and has given their life to Christ, because we know that forgiveness from our sins is only found in Him, and He’s our Savior, we know it’s all worth it. For in Him is eternal life!

The devil hates the Word of God. If you really take a look at the hate some have for God’s Word, the Jews, and Christians, you will see it’s such a unreasonable hate that it can only be supernatural and demonic. Satan comes to steal, kill and destroy. He has blinded many to the truth. Many people see God as responsible for all the evil in this world. We have to understand that satan is the god of this world. He will do whatever it takes to keep people from seeing the truth spoken of in God’s Word. Jesus came to set us free from the bondage of sin and the destruction it causes. I’ve heard people say if there is a God, why did He let the Holocaust happen? The answer is, That was satan’s doing. Not God. Satan knew that according to bible prophecy, Israel will become a nation again by the supernatural hand of God. Because He promised it. Satan wanted to kill every Jew so there would be no Israel. He failed. We are in a war folks. Between good and evil. I’m here to tell you to pick the right side. The side that leads to life. Eternal life.

Faithfully His,

Heather Hoffman

#holy bible #jesusistheway #follow jesus #apologetics #bibletruth #biblical

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p-and-p-admin · 3 years

Photo

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello CorvusDraconis and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you so much for sitting down with us to chat.

You’re a well known and beloved figure in the SS/HG community for your many stories - including a personal favourite of mine, A chance for happiness.

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name?

I have always had a fascination for the shiny things and the Northwest Coast depictions of Raven the Trickster/Creator, and, I tend to hoard (and get super protective) of my art supplies. Corvids have always been a positive sign in my life. They tend to show up when I’m feeling down and engage in funny antics in the yard. As for dragons, I’ve always had a love for them and think the Western depiction of them as dangerous beasts with no mind but for hoarding treasure and killing people only to be slain by a knight quite despicable.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Severus, actually. I see a lot of my life in his. Hardships, challenges, bullying— trying to be something better and later wondering about unwise decisions. I have a very similar dislike for dunderheads, but I do not share his inclination to denude rosebushes of their petals. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I have always preferred fantasy and sci-fi.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

I am not sure if you would call it a classic novel, but grew up on all things Tolkien (and even puzzled through the Silmarillion at the grand age of seven), and have a special place in my heart for Watership Down. While I’ve read pieces like War and Peace, Iliad, Ulysses, Pride and Prejudice, Grapes of Wrath, Moby Dick, Great Gatsby, Little Women, Catcher in the Rye, Tom Sawyer/Huckleberry Finn, Scarlet Letter, Don Quixote, To Kill a Mockingbird, Animal Farm, Jane Eyre, Lord of the Flies, Tale of Two Cities, Heart of Darkness, Robinson Crusoe, Alice in Wonderland, Great Expectations, Odyssey, Frankenstein, Dracula, Crime and Punishment, Heart of Darkness, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, The Secret Garden, Treasure Island, Anne of Green Gables, Les Misérables, Peter Pan, Gulliver’s Travels, all things Jack London, 20000 Leagues, etc.— they never captured me as aptly as Anne McCaffery’s Dragonriders of Pern or Mercedes Lackley’s the Last Herald Mage. Though, if I were to pick classic stories I read more than once (litmus test for things I like) it would be things such as The Secret Garden, Call of the Wild, Wild Fang, The Hobbit, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and The Last Unicorn. At what age did you start writing? The moment I could pick up pencil and paper, I was writing. I had notepads full of stories I wrote as a kid. Alas, my dad found them one day when I was off to college, made fun of them, and I came home and burned every single one in mortification.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

The moment TV shows did “stupid things” to their characters. I used to write things about Beauty and the Beast (the old CBS show) when they killed off the main character, Knight Rider, Robocop, Transformers— there are probably far more that I just don’t remember now. I was writing it long before there was a fanfiction dot net or a term to even call it. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I am a shameless romantic for the beauty within and sometimes the quite literal love for a monster (not just some person who acts like a monster and changes into a better person.) The misunderstood monster is perhaps my most favourite theme, and it shows up in my stories often if not always. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I ship SessKag from Inuyasha, Lucard/Sophie from Dracula: The Series, and Loki/Hermione when I’m feeling crossover-y. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? Other than my favourite fanon that Severus lives/survives/finds a better life free of two masters and his guilt, I would say I would want Harry to wise the heck up and realise his father was a swine, his godfather was an almost successful murderer that used his own best mate to try and kill off another student, and his mother wasn’t all that hot either. I would want him to find value in himself without having to make stuff up about his “perfect” parents. Then again, I would want Vernon/Petunia to be arrested for child abuse and put in gaol, but— then the story would have been very different XD Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Sometimes quiet, sometimes music. But usually, I am best mates with Spotify.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

In the HP universe: I honestly don’t read many of them because I’m always writing my own stuff XD, but when I really feel like I need a good Ron bashing SSHG HEA, I read just about anything by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse. However, that being said, I often return to “The Sun is Often Out” by Hannah-1888 for just the right amount of angst and HEA to make me happy.

In the Inuyasha universe: A Trick of Fate by PristinelyUngifted

In the Marvel universe: Mutual Respect Sends His Regrets by moor

In the Star Trek universe: Gratified By Your Company by starfleetdream

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I go by the seat of my feathered rump, to be honest. Inspiration is a fickle, unpredictable beast, and I usually don’t know what is going to happen until it does.

What is your writing genre of choice?

Fantasy

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Chance of Happiness because it was my very first publication. It may not have been my best, but it was my first, and it very well could have been my last yet somehow wasn’t.

Looks Can Be Deceiving and One Step Forward, Two Decades Back are two epic tales that seemed to demand being written. The fact I finished them was something I think deserves a little pride.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

Looks started off with me attempted to write Dramione just once. It failed. Draco demanded to be her brother of the heart, Viktor came in and said “nope she’s mine,” and no one was more surprised at the outcome of that story than me. The characters did what THEY wanted.

I learned that trying to plan a story from start to finish is useless when the characters decide what they want. The story demanded more, and I was just a conduit that typed it down. For me, at least, attempting to outline and plan is utterly useless

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

I think every story I write is personal in some way. The inspiration comes from somewhere inside, and I often have no idea what it is until I go back and read it later. I think the story wrote itself in a lot of ways, which made it easier in a way, but there are a lot of things I can’t say were from personal experience because as a high fantasy of talking gryphons and such I can only imagine it. There is no basis in real life on how any of that would go down. There is a freedom in that but also many challenges in making it real enough to identify with despite how alien and fantastic the idea is.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

Dragonriders of Pern introduced sentient dragons and the idea that despite a vast difference in species there could be teamwork and love between the two as they teamed up against a greater threat.

The herald-mage books by Mercedes Lackley were also important staples in my childhood because it impressed the values of responsibility despite having powers others did not, and that people were fallible despite greatness and potential.

Gandalara Cycle by Randall Garrett and Vicki Ann Heydron: I cannot tell you how often I read this story. I had dog ears on these novels because there was so much I loved about them. It was a search for humanity when displaced in a seemingly alien world, societal clashes, and the great sha’um (the giant rideable cats) that were the main characters’ partners for life.

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C Wrede: A princess rebels against her arranged marriage by running away to be a dragon princess.

All of these books had creatures in it that chose to partner with a human and be with them for life, not as lovers that you find in the more modern supernatural romance blender out there, but the ultimate friend for life— the family you choose.

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

Oh heck no. Hah. They have their secrets, and I have mine. Personally, I think mine are more healthy than theirs.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Very.

I write for myself. Sometimes I’ll write a story for one of my betas or a sshg friend, but for the most part, I write for my own entertainment because nothing like what I write is out there. There is a lot of SSHG out there, but mine is almost always a creature feature story. I blame X-Files growing up. It tickles me that others enjoy my stories, but in the end I write to get things down and out of my head. They just so happen to entertain others as they do me.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I will often engage in A/N talk at the end of chapters, but I really don’t engage in the fandom. I loathe social media. That being said, I read every review, and while I don’t reply to everything because FF dot net is a horrible platform for messaging anymore (or ever was really)-- I appreciate every single one. Sometimes it helps to know people are enjoying the story for the story’s sake.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Get a beta, even if you are pretty good at writing. Get one because a second pair of eyes will catch things you don’t. Read your own stuff out loud. If you trip over it, your audience will too. If you stumble, so will they.

Get a beta who isn’t afraid to tell you that your shite stinks in places and you make no sense. You may want a cheerleader, but what you need is a beta. If you are super lucky, you can have both at once.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

I play computer games and sew things. I’ve sewn a lot of things lately. Scrub caps and masks for work—

There has been a lot of writer’s block lately due to the times, and I will not write when I’m uninspired. I will not force inspiration. That’s not fair to me or those unfortunate enough to share in the reading. I want to be able to go back on a story I wrote and enjoy it and not curse at myself. XD

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Sometimes certain catch phrases and things from real life friends have trickled in as a sort of Easter egg (unbeknownst to them since I don’t tell them I write fanfic). Sometimes random news stories or whatnot find their way in. Lessons of the day. Random events. Things that are too odd not to stick in my brain somehow. I can’t say I always do it on purpose, though.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

No, I have a goal this year to finish off the unfinished stories. This is made harder because Dragon and the Rose keeps adding more and more bunnies into the idea bin, and my brain wants to run with them, but I’m like NO DANGIT, I HAVE STUFF TO FINISH STILL! It’s a hard thing trying to finish what you start when so much interesting stuff pops up and waves at you like “heeeeeyyyyy I’m cool too!”

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Keep writing but remember you can always be better. You can always improve. Writing isn’t a popularity contest. It isn’t about how many reviews you get or how many fans you may or may not have. Write because you want to write. Write what you like not what other people like. Write for you because in the end, you are the one who goes back to read it and say “I wrote this story, and I still love it” instead of forcing yourself to write something just because the topic is “popular” and gets a lot of visitors. Write something you’ll be proud to go back and read and enjoy. You’ll find when you write something genuinely, readers will come. And if only one person leaves you a paragraph review on how much your story meant to them out of someone else’s hundreds of “great!” (with nothing else)-- think of what you value more.

If my story helped someone through a dark time.

Just one person—

Then it was a good effort.

Maybe that person didn’t have the bravery to leave a message. Maybe they are ashamed. Maybe they send you a PM instead of a review.

That is, to me, the ultimate reason why I realised that despite writing stories for myself that there are people out there that needed to hear my story at just the right time in their life. If my story can bring a little joy to someone else, then it doesn’t matter how many reviews I have. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have thousands of reviews like “that other author.” What matters is that I told my story; someone out there read it and it spoke to them.

I love hearing from people and what they liked about my stories, but I also am glad that there are some people out there who secretly like my stories but do not feel safe enough to review.

So, I would say to the aspiring author: write for yourself but share it. You never know whose day you will make with your story. They may never tell you. They may tell you years later (happened to me!). There is a good chance that someone out there needs your story as much as you need to write it. That being said, find yourself a beta to share your journey with you. You may find a few friend in the process.

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

You are quite welcome.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ss/hg #snamione #writing

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itsafanficthing · 4 years

Text

The Paper Boy - Chapter 7

A03 is here

Saturday. The first week of school was finally complete. Claire had made it through with the help of Jamie and his friends, making a few of her own (the Hunter twins, Louise de La Tour, Frank Randall, and to Jamie's dismay- Tom Christie). She seemed to be fitting in well and as soon as his friends had had their fun with her posh accent, they had accepted her as one of their own.

Homework had piled up despite it being only the first week back and after Jamie finished his Saturday paper run and his morning chores (and a quick visit to the Demon Horse Donas) Jamie was spread out at the kitchen table with his Physics homework. Jenny was making jars of plum, raspberry and blackberry jams, occasionally singing along to the soft music of Fleetwood Mac playing in the background. Jamie studied his current question, twirling his pen in his fingers as he thought it over.

Problem 2.19

Jules Verne in 1865 suggested sending people to the Moon by firing a space capsule from a 200-m-long cannon with a launch speed of 10.97 km/s. What would have been the unrealistically large acceleration experienced by the space travelers during launch? Compare your answer with the free-fall acceleration 9.80 m/s2.

“What’s the question?” Jenny asked looking over at Jamie as the various jams bubbled away on the active top.

“It’s physics, acceleration patterns,” Jamie mumbled before he started to write some rough notes.

“Ye look like yer brain’s about to explode,” Jenny laughed as she turned back to the stove.

“Aye, I think I got it,” Jamie replied absentmindedly before scribbling out his previous answer and correcting his math.

They both worked in companionable silence as the music continued to flow through the kitchen. Jamie paused, looking up at Jenny as she sang along (Rhianna). It had been so long since they had simply enjoyed each other’s company and Jamie realised how much he missed it. They’d both been so busy with the farm and their own lives, that they had lost the joy of just being with each other. It didn’t matter that each were doing their own thing- simply being in each other’s company was a pastime sorely missed by Jamie. A time when Jenny wasn’t trying to parent Jamie and Jamie wasn’t trying to rebel against his sister.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked with her back to him, no doubt feeling his eyes on her.

“Nothin’,” Jamie grinned as he looked back down at his notebook.

“What are ye starin’ at?” Jenny asked as she turned around and Jamie could hear the amusement in her voice.

“It’s nothin’, we just have’na spent time like this together in a while. It’s good,” he mumbled somewhat embarrassed as Jenny made a satisfied grunt in acknowledgement.

“Aye, I ken.”

They both looked up at the sound of a knock on the front door, before looking at each other in confusion. Not many people came in through the front door; not many people who knew the Frasers anyway. More often than not people announced themselves as they walked in through the kitchen door.

“I’ll get it,” Jamie said as he stepped away from the table rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. “Could use the break anyway.”

Jenny nodded in acknowledgement before taking one her jams off the stove to cool.

Jamie opened the front door and was surprised to see Claire standing in front of him.

“Sassenach,” he greeted in surprise as Claire smiled at him.

“Jamie, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said blushing slightly. Jamie was wearing his ratty house clothes after a busy morning and he adjusted the hem of his old rugby jersey nervously.

“Not at all, I was just doin’ some homework. Come in.” Jamie stepped to the side as Claire passed him into the house. She smelt like… green- was the first word that came to Jamie’s mind- as if she had just risen out of freshly turned earth.

“I was in the kitchen with Jen,” Jamie said from behind her as he closed the door.

“If you’re busy I can go. Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn up unannounced, even though that’s exactly what I’ve just done. It’s just that I don’t have your phone number and I thought you might have finished with your chores and you might want to hang out, but if you’re busy I can go. I mean I have your house number, but not your mobile. Do you have a mobile? I was just sitting at home and I was bored and I thought that you might be bored as well so I walked over here. I should get a bike because it was much farther than I thought it was, but it’s a nice day out so it wasn’t so bad. But if you are busy I can go.” Claire spoke quickly, hardly taking a breath between one thought and the next, and barely letting Jamie respond as she made her way to the kitchen when Jenny turned around.

“Claire!” Jenny greeted happily as she wiped her hands on a tea towel before trotting over to hug Claire who looked slightly taken aback by the welcome but hugged her back nonetheless.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Claire’s voice was much softer than when she had been speaking to (at) Jamie and Jamie put it down to nerves at seeing Jenny again.

“Not at all. Jamie was just finishing up his homework, weren’t ye?” Jenny answered as she raised a meaningful eyebrow at Jamie.

“Aye, physics has had enough of my time for a Saturday,” Jamie nodded as he flipped his unfinished homework closed.

“Ye should take Claire around the property, show her the farm, she has’na seen it in daylight,” Jenny encouraged as she turned her back to the pair, clearly having decided their activity for them.

“Unless ye wanted to go somewhere else or do somethin’ else?” Jamie asked as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That sounds perfect,” Claire answered with a slight blush to her cheeks.

—

Jamie ran quickly to his room to change into something a little more… well, a little more presentable. He didn’t care what his family saw him in, but he did care what Claire thought. She was wearing denim shorts and Jamie briefly worried about her pearlescent skin burning in the hot summer sun. Long slender legs with shorts that accentuated her small waist and shapely arse.

Upon returning to Claire who was waiting patiently for him in the hallway, he offered her some sun protection lotion and she took it gratefully explaining again, that the walk was much longer than she had thought- and the sun much hotter.

He tried not to look at her as she rubbed the lotion on her skin, he knew that there was nothing even remotely provocative about the way she was massaging the sun protection onto her body however, there was something so inherently sexy that Jamie could feel his cheeks flushing as he watched her. He felt indecent and immediately turned away from her to rub some onto his face. Perhaps try and disguise the red of his cheeks as rubbing his skin rather than from his indecent thoughts.

Thank the lord that Claire couldn’t read his mind. He was ashamed of the improper thoughts about her and would be mortified if she ever knew how often his body reacted to her.

When his father had given him “the talk” (a paralysingly horrendous ordeal for the pair of them) he had said that Jamie’s body would react to what he was attracted to, and sometimes without him even realising it. Sometimes when Jamie was least expecting it, or even a simple thought that usually he wouldn’t have even considered to be remotely sexual- his body had other ideas. That brought him some comfort at least. While he was largely in charge of his body, limbs and reactions, thanks to teenage hormones, there was also a lot of which he wasn’t in control.

His Da had also told him that when he met the right woman “he would know”. Jamie was sure that when his father had spoken with him, Brian meant years and years and years into the future. He didn’t mean right now. And so, although Jamie thought that he might be in love with Claire Beauchamp, he had certainly never been in love before, so how was he to know? Yes, she did things to his body, but love had to be more than that.

Other girls had given him a physical reaction of course. There was that one time that Laoghaire had worn a swimsuit- a two piece, that barely covered her body. Jamie had immediately looked away but not before he’d received an eyeful and his body reacted faster than his mind. The cold water that he had jumped in to avoid embarrassment had rapidly taken care of that issue.

Claire though, there was something about Claire. Just being around her gave him a hard-on, which was extremely unsettling when she was doing nothing beyond existing.

“Ready?” Claire asked as Jamie turned to face her. She was smiling at him brightly and he couldn’t help the swell of affection he felt for her. She still had some of the sunblock on her cheek, not quite rubbed into her skin.

“Aye, ye just have a bit of-” Jamie didn’t even think about it, he didn’t even hesitate, his hand was moving of its own accord. He gently cupped her chin while his thumb brushed lightly over her cheek.

Like pearl, satin, marble. Claire’s skin was smooth and Jamie found himself moving closer to her, his thumb making the same motion across her skin, though the mark had more than disappeared.

Her cheeks flushed as she met his eyes and his mouth dropped open, if nothing else to get some oxygen to his brain. Dhia, she was so beautiful, whisky swimming in her eyes, he was mesmerised. He could kiss her. He should kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her. Was time slowing down? What was that thumping noise in Jamie’s ears? His own heartbeat?

A cupboard slammed from the kitchen and Jamie could hear Jenny moving around and suddenly the room came back into focus with sudden clarity and Jamie stopped what he was doing. What was he doing? He couldn’t kiss her without her permission. He didn’t even know how she felt about him. She thought that they were friends, which they were, but still, you didn’t snog your friends.

“Lotion,” Jamie finished, “on yer cheek. I got it.” Taking a deep breath he took a rather large and somewhat unsteady step away from her and opened the door before striding purposefully out and readjusting himself surreptitiously.

She could never know the extreme effect she had on him.

—-

“Over there are the chickens,” Jamie pointed out as they walked casually through the back garden. “Ma had a wee vegetable patch over there. The horses are down on the back paddock at the moment, we could go see them?” He suggested without meeting Claire’s eyes. He couldn’t look at her after knowing the thoughts that went through his mind when she was putting on sun protection.

Claire nodded as she followed Jamie to the shed that housed most of the farming equipment.

“It’s a bit of a trek. We could take the bike,” Jamie said over his shoulder.

“I don’t have a bike,” Claire said with uncertainty as she followed Jamie.

“I dinna mean a push bike.” Jamie grunted as he heaved the roller door up to show his dirt bike. “This will be faster.”

“I can’t ride that!” Claire exclaimed as she saw what he meant, “I don’t know how.”

“Aye, but I do, all ye need to do is hang on.” Jamie smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner as he wheeled the heavy bike out of the shed.

“I… I’ve never been on a motorbike before,” Claire stammered as Jamie kicked the stand so that the bike was standing upright on its own.

“Weel, there’s a first for everything. This is just used for gettin’ about on the farm. I’ve been riding since a’fore I can remember. Ye’ll be safe with me- I promise. Jenny rides on the back all the time.”

“Do we… should we be wearing helmets? Or jackets?” Claire asked nervously as she took a step closer to the bike and reached out to touch it with a shaking hand, as if to reassure herself that it was real and wouldn’t jump start to life on its own and bite her hand off.

“Nah, not for riding around the farm. Trust me. I would’na let anything bad happen to ye.”

Claire looked between the bike and Jamie several times before she seemed to nod to herself and squared her shoulders bravely.

“Alright then.”

Jamie kicked the bike to life and he saw Claire flinch at the roaring sound.

��I promise ye- I will’na let harm come to ye,” he repeated, raising his voice over the rumbling of the bike.

Claire seemed to huff out a sigh before she gripped his shoulder tightly and swung her leg over the bike, sliding forward until she was pressed against him. He could feel the tension in her arms as she looped them around his middle and clung to him.

“And when you’re not there?” She asked with her breath on his neck as he fought not to shiver at the sensation.

Rather than give a response he released the clutch slowly, applied a little pressure on the accelerator and they were off with a high pitched squeal from Claire.

—

If Jamie had thought that seeing Claire apply lotion to her skin was enough to give him a hard-on it was nothing- absolutely nothing - in comparison to the feeling of her arms around him and her body pressed up against his back, vibrating with the bike. He didn’t go fast, or at least, he tried not to go fast. It usually took him a few minutes on the bike to get to the back paddock with the horses, but with Claire almost squeezing the breath out of him at every bump it took much longer. He didn’t mind. Every second spent with her body pressed against him, her breath on his neck, was a memory that would be burned into his brain forever.

She squealed (in delight or fear, he didn’t know) as they went over a small mound, the wind whipping through both of their hair. She laughed as he rounded the corner and she lent the complete opposite way, trying to counter the tilt and it took a little wobble for him to right themselves.

As they arrived at the back paddock fence two of the horses came trotting over at the sound of the bike. The sound of the bike meant one thing - food.

Jamie shut off the bike and Claire stayed holding onto him.

“Err, Sassenach,” Jamie cleared his throat. “Ye can let go of me now, we’re here.”

Claire scrambled off the bike (off Jamie) and stumbled slightly as she tried to stand.

“Are ye alright?” He asked as he stood the bike up.

Her hair was well and truly windswept, curls flying in every direction, her cheeks were pink with excitement and her smile was positively luminous.

“That was wonderful!” She said happily before she cautiously made her way to the fence between her and the two large horses.

“Aye, we can go faster on the way back if ye like,” Jamie offered, turning back to grab the bag of grain that was hanging off the front.

Claire beamed at him before taking another tentative step toward the horses.

“This is Molly and Shelby,” Jamie introduced as he pulled out a handful of pellets and offered it to the horses. “Molly has been wi’ us for about five years, Shelby we got last winter from a rescue shelter. She used to be real skittish around people but now she canna get enough. Can ye Shel?” Jamie patted the chestnut neck of Shelby while Molly sniffed around for more food.

“How many horses do you have?” Claire asked, standing slightly behind Jamie.

“Seven at the moment, but we’re just housing two of them for the shelter- Manny and Marcus. Shelby, Molly, Thistle, Percy and Donas are ours.”

“Donas?” Claire repeated looking thoughtful. “He’s the demon horse?”

Jamie grinned back at her. “Aye, tryin’ to train him at the moment. He could be great, he just needs a bit o’ discipline. It’s good to have him around the other horses. Someone must’ha done a number on him. Nearly took my arm off the first time I tried to pat him. He was all skin and bones then.”

“Do you rescue a lot of horses?” Claire asked as she bravely took a step towards Molly who immediately started searching for treats on Claire with great huffs from her nostrils.

“No’ a lot. We like to help out where we can. Da says he’d like to start trainin’ up horses to sell, but I think he gets too attached to let them go once they are. Thistle and Percy were Ma’s, they’re gettin’ on a bit now but I dinna think Da can bear putting’ them down. Still probably got a few more years in them yet.”

A screeching neigh came from across the field and a black blur started galloping towards them.

“That’ll be Donas,” Jamie sighed as blur picked up speed, heading toward them.

“He will stop, won’t he?” Claire asked nervously as Donas moved with no intent of slowing down.

“Aye, he just wants to show off.”

Donas did eventually stop after emitting a high pitched squeal from Claire as he ran directly at the fence before turning briskly and running a few laps back and forth. Molly and Shelby, to their credit, hardly flinched as he ran past them, snorting at them and throwing in a few bucks, trying to spook them. Claire had taken a few scrambling steps back from the fence and was somewhat hidden behind Jamie when Donas finally stopped.

“He seems very…” Claire paused as she thought over the word.

“Insane?” Jamie suggested as Donas stopped in front of him and started nuzzling Shelby and Molly out of the way.

“Spirited,” Claire laughed as Jamie held out some grains for Donas, who gobbled them up greedily.

“Aye, that’s certainly one way of looking at it,” Jamie agreed as he slapped Donas’s neck heavily.

“Where are the other horses?” Claire inched closer back to the fence, away from Donas, but closer to Molly.

“Probably right down the back. They won’t come up to the fence till around sunset. The rescue horses did’na have much space to run around, so they spend most of the time just stretching their legs, ‘cause they can. Percy and Thistle like to keep an eye on ‘em.”

“So, I assume you’ve been riding all your life?”

“Aye, since I could sit up straight. Used to sit in front of my Da and he’d ride us around the property. I thought I was so important, ridin’ round, checking on the farm. It seemed a lot more fun as a kid, but when ye can actually help out, everything becomes a chore. What about ye? Have ye ridden before?” Jamie pulled his hand away from Donas quickly as Claire gasped. The horse had gone for a wee nip when he realised that Jamie wasn’t offering any more food. “It’s fine,” Jamie shook off the question before Claire could ask it. “Ye learn to read the horses, and especially this beast. I ken well enough when he’s about to turn on me. So, riding?” He asked again.

“I err, once, a long time ago, with my parents. I was shockingly awful at it and have refused to get back onto another horse since,” Claire answered before tentatively reaching out and stroking Molly’s nose.

“Ye did’na like it?” Jamie asked in surprise, though his brain was spinning with the first time that Claire had voluntarily spoken about her parents.

“I didn’t feel like I was in control,” Claire answered shortly with a shrug.

“Aye, ye dinna like things being out of yer control. Ye’ve said,” Jamie nodded sagely as Molly huffed and Claire’s hands snapped back away from the horse.

“I was only seven at the time,” Claire defended. “If the horse wanted to kick me off, there wasn’t a lot I could do about it, except fly through the air and land.”

“Did it kick ye off?” Jamie asked with a smirk. There was something wildly entertaining about seeing Claire self-righteously angry.

“No, but it could have.”

“When yer riding a horse, ye need to show that ye are in control. That’s why I’m havin’ problems with Donas. He keeps thinkin’ that he’s the one that’s callin’ the shots, but he is’na. I’m the one tha’ put the saddle on him. I’m the one that can take it back off.”

“I was seven,” Claire repeated. “How’s a seven year old, that’s never ridden a horse before, know how to control it!” She exclaimed in exasperation as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Confidence. Fake it till ye make it, ken?” Jamie answered her rhetorical question happily. “I’ve been ridin’ by myself since I was four, trainin’ properly on them since I was six. It’s always been the same. If I believe I can do it, so does the horse. If I have doubts, so do they.”

Claire huffed and rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m serious. It’s why I’ve fallen off Donas so many times. If I doubt myself and what I’m doin’ with him, he’ll boot me as soon as he can. But I just have to pick maself back up and try again, he canna know that he got the best of me.”

Claire reached out to stroke Molly’s nose again and Molly huffed once more. This time Claire didn’t withdraw her hand.

“Bloody intelligent beasts,” Jamie continued as he rubbed Thistle’s neck (Donas having realised that there was no more food had wandered away to eat some grass at the edge of the fence). “And they’re loyal- trusting, once ye show them that ye can be too.”

“Are you?” Claire asked and Jamie saw her swallow heavily.

“Am I what? Loyal?” Jamie asked, turning away from her to look at Thistle. The conversation had taken a much deeper tone than Jamie was expecting and he felt that he shouldn’t look at Claire just now. Rather he should direct his attention to the horses in front of them, as if he was talking to Thistle rather than Claire.

“Can I trust you?” Claire asked softly and it took most of his willpower not to look over at her and read her thoughts from her face.

“Aye, Sassenach. I’d like to think so.”

Claire was quiet as they walked around the property. She stopped occasionally to study a plant, making small humming sounds as she thought things over before following Jamie again. It reminded him of when he had first taken her to the town and she had packed her bag full of various weeds on the way, wanting to study them again later. She seemed to be thinking over something carefully but wasn’t quite ready to talk about it. Jamie was more than happy just to be in her company and watch her as her eyes lit up over the wildflowers.

“How’s your paper route going?” She asked suddenly, appearing by his side as he leant against a tree, waiting for her to catch up.

“It’s fine. Keeps me busy, puts a little extra money in my pocket,” Jamie answered, pushing away from the tree. Claire had stopped to look at some mushrooms at the base and he paused waiting for her.

“Did your father want you to get a job, or did you want it?” She asked. Her hands had stilled over the plant, as if she wanted to look busy, but she was waiting on his response.

“Nah, he worried that I wouldn’a get my chores done as well as the route. But I wanted the extra money, and it does’na take long.”

“Why don’t you use the motorbike? Wouldn’t it be quicker?”

“Aye, it would, but it’s a farm bike. I’m not licenced to drive it on roads, strictly speaking.”

It didn’t look like Claire was going to move from the base of the tree, and as she looked back at him curiously, Jamie made up his mind to simply plant himself next to her and just ask her what she was thinking about.

As he plopped himself down and started pulling up chunks of grass, she sat down properly to face him. Though it seemed that he didn’t need to ask her what was on her mind because as soon as she made herself comfortable, words started streaming out of her.

“My parents never wanted me to get a job while at school. They said that studying is the most important thing and that they would worry about the money. Lamb says the same thing, but I don’t even know where I could even get a job in this town. I could run a competing paper route, I suppose, but I don’t think that your Uncle would be too thrilled about that?”

“Murtagh is’na my uncle,” Jamie inputted when Claire paused to take a breath. “He’s my godfather.”

“Lamb is mine. My godfather I mean. He’s also my uncle, but he’s my godfather. That’s why I’m with him now. Would you and Jenny go to Murtagh if something happened to your Father?”

Jamie shook his head, “No, Jen’s old enough to take care of the both of us now. Maybe a few years ago we would have, but no, not now.”

“I didn’t really see much of Lamb until I turned four-no-fifteen. He was always away. He decided that he was going to write a book so he came back to settle in Oxford with us. He hasn’t written the book yet, but I’ve seen a few drafts. It’s not bad.”

Claire was pulling individual blades of grass from the ground and wasn’t meeting Jamie’s eyes. Was this when he was finally going to find out where her parents were? He always wondered, but he didn’t want to push it- especially if something terrible had happened to them. He was about to ask when Claire continued.

“Moving here, to Scotland… it was supposed to be a fresh start… for both of us. He could start writing his book again and I… and I…” Jamie heard Claire’s voice thicken and he glanced up at her to see that there were tears brimming in her eyes.

“Claire,” Jamie said softly, dropping his handful of grass and taking her smaller, delicate hand in his own. “Yer safe wi’ me. Ye dinna need to tell me anythin’ ye dinna want to.”

Claire nodded, biting her lip before shaking her head, as if to shake away the tears. She didn’t let go of his hand.

“The psych- the doctors said that it would get better, that it would get easier. But… I’m so terrified that the moment that it starts getting easier- that I’ll start to forget them.”

“Tell me about them,” Jamie prompted. He surmised that her parents were no longer around, that much was clear, but the way that Claire was talking made Jamie wonder how long they had been gone.

“My mum,” Claire paused to sniff and her grip on Jamie’s hand increased for a moment, “she loves… she loved to laugh, and she has this… this ridiculous laugh that you can’t help but laugh along with her. She snorts a lot, which always makes me laugh more. She’s kind- to everyone- loves animals. It was her idea to take me horse riding. She’s smart, really smart and I’m worried that I’m not going to be as smart as she is- as she wants me to be. Julia. Her name is… was Julia.” Claire took a few moments to swallow and catch her breath before she continued.

“Dad was strict when I was a child. I don’t have a lot of memories of us together, but mum always told me that it was because he was working so hard for us. It wasn’t until I turned eight or nine that I really started understanding my dad. The first time he laughed in front of me, I couldn’t even join in. I was so amazed that he was laughing at something.” Claire sniffed and Jamie nodded along, though she wasn’t looking at him.

“He started… it was like he started to enjoy life and he finally let me see it. He’s stubborn, Lamb says that I get that from him. He expects great things from me, like the piano, school, everything and I don’t want to let him down. Though, I guess I can’t really do that now. Not much left to let down.”

Jamie cleared his throat quietly. “What happened to them?”

Claire shook her head as she bit her lip.

“Ye dinna have to say if ye dinna want to,” Jamie offered quickly. “We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. It’s just… They’re dead. People say pass away, but they didn’t pass anywhere. They died.” Claire’s voice shifted and was unnervingly devoid of emotions. It reminded him of how Jenny spoke about their mother sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said softly, she was still gripping his hand tightly and Jamie found he couldn’t have let go of her even if he wanted.

“People always say that they are sorry, and… I don’t know, it just feels weird, doesn’t it?”

“I always thought that, at my mam’s funeral. All these people sayin’ “sorry for yer loss” and I remember thinkin’ ‘why are ye apologising? Ye didn’t kill her.’”

Claire laughed quickly and unexpectedly at that, a short, sharp shout that had her grinning and nodding at him. “I used to think the same thing. I think people just need something to say, so they say sorry.”

“Yer probably right.”

They both settled into their own thoughts for a moment, listening to the trees rustle in the wind, birds fluttering from tree to tree, calling out to each other, insects buzzing through the longer grass.

“Mum died first,” Claire said suddenly. “She was at work and collapsed. They thought she’d just fainted… but she had a brain aneurysm. It was so sudden and no one… there were no signs. Dad… Dad was home with me, when he got the call that she was on life support. He left me at home to go, said that he would call me when he got an update. He didn’t make it to the hospital. He pulled out of our street and… and he got hit, drivers side door. No drunk driver. Nothing. Just pulling out onto the street, just unlucky. I didn’t even know until the police sirens.” Claire sniffed and tears started to run steadily down her cheeks. “Both, in one night, separate accidents. What are the chances of that?”

“Claire,” Jamie gasped, “I’m so sorry.”

“The police came to the house to tell my mum that dad was in an accident. Instead they got me. I told them that it was a mistake, that my mum was in the hospital and dad was already on the way. I thought they’d just got their wires crossed. I’ll never forget when they realised what had actually happened. I could actually see the colour drain from their faces.” Claire shook her head and Jamie wished he had a packet of tissues or something to help dry her eyes. “One of them left to get on the radio and I knew that something was wrong.” Claire shook her head, as if she was trying to shake off the memory. Jamie couldn’t blame her.

“Lamb turned up the next day and I’ve been with him ever since.”

“How… how long ago?” Jamie struggled to speak around the lump in his throat.

“It will be 18 months on Wednesday.”

“Claire, I… I dinna ken what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Bad things happen all the time.” Claire tried to shrug but Jamie could see her trembling, her eyes glassy, and without thinking about it, he gathered her into his arms. It was like a dam breaking and she clung to him as she sobbed.

Jamie’s mind was racing. Both parents in one night. How could someone ever cope with that? Jamie couldn’t imagine. He could feel the tears from Claire soaking into his shirt but he couldn’t care less. He was gripping her tightly, tighter than he otherwise would have, as if holding her so close would hold her together. He could feel his own eyes welling with tears. They were sitting uncomfortably, Claire almost sitting in Jamie’s lap and his legs starting to go to sleep, but he wouldn’t have moved for anything in the world.

His mother's sickness had been long and drawn out and as much as Jamie hated himself for it, in the end he wanted her to slip away just so that she wouldn’t be in pain anymore. He had months to grieve while she was still alive. He got to say goodbye. Claire wasn’t given that luxury. It was all still so fresh to her. When she spoke about her parents, she spoke like they were still here. Jamie remembered doing that with his mother as well. It took many corrections from Jenny for him to finally switch into past tense about his mum.

Slowly Claire’s sobbing turned into shallow hiccups and then she was breathing deeply- her eyes dry. Jamie couldn’t find it in himself to let her go. They’d shared something so deeply personal, thatto let her out of his arms would feel like a tether between them, and he wasn’t ready for that.

“I dinna think ye’ll forget them,” he said softly into her hair. She was trembling. “I have’na forgotten my ma, I worry that I will, but there’s so much of her in Jen and in me that it’s impossible.” Jamie paused as a shudder ran through Claire and she sniffed. “I never met yer ma or yer da, but I daresay there’s a lot more of them in ye then ye give yerself, or them, credit for.”

Claire laughed, surprising Jamie and she slowly sat up, though she held onto his hand again. Jamie felt the separation from her immediately and wished that he could have held her for just a little while longer.

“Lamb says the same thing. I have the short temper of my father, but the same laugh as my mother.” Claire sniffed again and quickly wiped her eyes. “I look atrocious, don’t I?”

Jamie shook his head quickly. Her eyes were red and puffy, yes, but the golden flecks in her brown eyes shone brighter than he’d ever seen them. Yes, her nose was bright red and her lips puffy but he’d never wanted to kiss her more in his life.

“Ye look bonnie, Sassenach. Jus’ bonnie.”

Claire huffed out a laugh and shook her head, disagreeing with him. “You’re much too kind to me.”

“I’m just honest with ye, is all.”

Claire shook her head again, but at least she was smiling now. “Thank you. For letting me talk about that. I haven’t really… I mean, I talk to Lamb, but it was his brother, so it’s hard. But I… I needed to talk about it with someone that didn’t know them.”

“I would have liked to… know them I mean,” Jamie said truthfully.

“Me too.”

—

An easy quiet settled over the both of them as they wandered around the edge of the property. The kind of ease that can only be achieved by sharing something personal that allows you to actually be vulnerable in front of another person. Jamie felt like he understood Claire a little bit better now, though he still had a long way to go. Now he understood why she withdrew into herself and into her own thoughts.

He understood why the first day of school was particularly difficult for her. He understood why sometimes she wouldn’t want to hang out on the weekends. He finally understood what Lamb was talking about when he said that he wanted them to be careful and that she had been through a lot in the past few months. Claire had gone through more in the past year than most people faced in their lives.

Claire still stopped to look at various plants and weeds. Jamie was happy to wait for her as she plucked and picked various plants. She looked relaxed- more relaxed than he had ever seen her.

“I don’t... I don’t want the people at school to know- About my mum and dad,” she said over her shoulder as she picked a flower and smelled it. “I don’t want them to pity me or see me any different. If that’s ok.”

“Yer secrets safe wi’ me, Sassenach. I will’na say anything.”

Claire nodded in satisfaction before she was bent back down looking at other plants. She looked lighter than before, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Jamie remembered the first time he had really broken down and told someone how much he missed his mother. Murtagh had been helping with the horses and suddenly it was all too much for Jamie. There were too many memories of his mother in the stables for him to escape. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his mother’s death since they had buried her. He thought that he had to be strong for his Da and for Jenny. He thought that it meant shoving everything he was feeling deep down and getting on with things. It was a terrible idea and one random day when he was filling a bucket with more food for the horses in the stables with Murtagh was the day that Jamie fell apart.

He could just picture his mother stroking the horses necks and speaking to them softly in Gaelic. Murtagh had been brushing one of the rescue horses and suddenly Jamie was huddled on the mucky straw filled floor sobbing and struggling to breathe.

He was sure that Murtagh had been thoroughly confused. One second Jamie had been refilling the food, the next he was gone.

A panic attack- that’s what Murtagh told him it was. All Jamie knew was that he suddenly couldn’t breathe, like a stone was sitting on his chest and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Then he was crying and when Murtagh finally located him and asked him what was wrong, Jamie could barely speak. At first he’d thought he was having a heart attack, or maybe a seizure, but Murtagh had sat patiently with him until Jamie had calmed down and could breathe normally again.

They’d spoken about his mum then; about how she loved the horses, how the house felt empty without her, how much Jamie missed her, about how guilty Jamie felt for wishing she would just pass away because he couldn’t stand to see her in so much pain and now it was his fault that she was gone. Murtagh had listened carefully, injected his own stories about Ellen Fraser, but more than anything he let Jamie sit in his grief for a moment. He didn’t try to tell him that there was nothing for Jamie to be upset about. He didn’t try to fix any of Jamie’s guilt or pain. He simply let Jamie exist and work through everything he had been pushing down for months.

Once Jamie had exhausted himself, feeling lighter than he had in months, Murtagh stood up, held out his hand for Jamie and pulled him up from the grubby floor. He clapped Jamie on the shoulder, told him that he was proud of him and then promptly went back to his chores as though nothing had happened.

From that day, Murtagh had cemented himself as a confidant to Jamie. Whenever Jamie needed to voice his worries or his anxiety, Murtagh was always there, ready to listen. He hardly ever gave advice, he mostly just listened as Jamie came to the conclusion by himself.

Jamie wondered if Claire had that with her Uncle. Could she go to him when she needed to voice her fears? Perhaps not, as it felt like she had been shouldering the weight of her parents' deaths for a long time and after finally telling Jamie what had happened, she looked much happier.

Grief shared is grief managed- or something like that.

“Are ye ready to head back?” Jamie asked as the horse's paddock came back into view.

“I suppose, if you’re ready,” Claire answered shyly. Her hands were full of various plants she had collected from around the property- meticulously extracted from the ground to keep as much of the roots intact as possible.

“Weel, ye’ll be wanting to get them in water I suppose,” Jamie indicated the plants.

“Yes, of course… I just… how…” Claire stuttered as she looked between the bike and her plants.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need both hands to hold on so that I don’t fly off the back. I just… how do I get these back?” Her forehead creased in a frown as she tried to figure out how to hold the plants and Jamie at the same time.

Jamie laughed, he couldn’t help it. It was the look on her face. A mix of disappointment and confusing thoughts. “Ye can throw them in the bag with the feed. I’m sure the horses will’na mind a bit of dirt with their food.”

An embarrassed sort of smile appeared on Claire's face as she mumbled “oh of course”.

Jamie helped her with her plants, got her situated on the back of the bike, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist once more and with another squeal from Claire, they were off.

#The Paper Boy #Outlander #Outlander Fanfiction #Fanfiction #High School AU #jamie x claire #Horses #Jamie Fraser #Claire beauchamp #Jenny Murray #grief #parents #death #James Fraser Fanfiction #chapter seven

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morwenna-crows · 4 years

Text

Seasons of War: American Cover + Two Chapter Preview

The American cover for Seasons Of War was released today.

There’s also a two chapter preview, which I’ve put under the cut, because long.

Red candles, maybe a dozen of them. Brick walls. Lot of rafters, lot of shadows, lots of big, empty patches of darkness. Wooden floor. She was in a cellar, a big one, upright against something metal. She could feel the struts digging into her back. Her arms were over her head, wrists bound with rope. Ankles tied, too.

Her tongue tasted sour. They’d drugged her. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. Her head was dull. She shot a little magic through her system and her mind cleared instantly.

She wondered if her make-up had been smudged. She hoped it hadn’t. It had taken ages to put on. Her shoes were gone. Good. They were awful. She was still in the dress, though, the one that was too small and too tight and not very practical. It did have one thing going for it, however – the amulet of dark metal, in the shape of a skull, that fitted against her hip like some cool- looking clasp.

She raised her head slightly, gave her surroundings a closer inspection through the hair that hung over her face. Pedestals displayed occult paraphernalia in glass cases like this was some- one’s idea of a black magic museum, and good quality – though obviously plastic – skeletons, dressed in rags, hung from shackles along the walls. The ground was sticky against her bare feet. She was positioned in the exact centre of a pentagram painted on the floorboards. She was pretty sure the dark stains had been made by copious splashes of blood.

“She’s awake,” someone said in the darkness ahead of her. “Hey, she’s awake. Get the others.”

The sound of feet on wooden steps, and then yellow light flooded in from above. A large shadow flowed across the light and then the cellar door closed and she was left with the flickering red candles and whoever had spoken.

He came forward, out of the darkness. Dressed in a red robe with the hood up.

“What’s your name?” he asked. His voice was gentle. American. Warm.

“Valkyrie,” she said.

“Valerie?”

“Valkyrie. With a K.”

“That’s a nice name. Unusual. Is it Irish?”

“Norwegian.”

“Oh. My friend said you were from Ireland.”

“I am. My name isn’t.”

“Ah.” He stepped a bit closer. She could see the lower half of his face, his square jaw and his even white teeth.

“You’re probably freaking out right now. I get that. I do. You wake up, you’re in a dark cellar, you see satanic stuff all around, you probably think you’re going to be horribly butchered in some ridiculous human-sacrifice ritual, yeah?” He pulled his hood down and his smile broadened. “Well, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“I know you,” said Valkyrie.

“Do you?”

“You’re that actor,” she said. “From that movie. You’re Jason Randal.”

“You want an autograph?”

“How about a selfie? If you could just hand me my phone...”

He laughed. “Oh, I like you. That’s an impressive response. Usually, the girls we sacrifice are full of panicked questions at this stage, like they think they can make sense of what’s happening. Like they can’t bring themselves to believe that they’re about to be murdered.”

“What was that movie you were in, with the guy from The Big Lebowski?”

Jason tilted his head slightly. “I haven’t been in a film with—”

“No, you know the one. You both play dead cops who are still, like, solving crimes and stuff? You’re not zombie cops, or ghost cops, but... what’s it called? I want to say RIP, but...”

Jason’s smile faded. “RIPD,” he said.

“Yes,” Valkyrie said. “That was a terrible movie. Why did you make that?”

He scratched his jaw. “That was Ryan Reynolds. You’re thinking of Ryan Reynolds.”

“That wasn’t you?”

“No.”

Valkyrie frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I think I know what films I’ve been in.”

“I could have sworn it was you.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“It’s a terrible movie.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it and I wasn’t in it.”

“It’s bad.”

“Then how about we stop talking about it?”

“Are you ashamed of it because it’s so bad?”

“I wasn’t in it.”

Valkyrie looked at him. “Maybe if you had a better agent you’d get better movies.”

Yellow light flooded the cellar and shadows moved, cast by the three people coming down the steps, all dressed in red robes.

“Is the Master here?” Jason Randal asked them, annoyance pinching his words.

“He’s on his way,” the woman in front said. Her name escaped

Valkyrie, but these days she was always being cast as the girlfriend or the wife of the hero. A few years ago, however, she’d headlined a few movies herself. Not bad movies, either. The guy behind her, one of the stars of a dreadful sitcom Valkyrie had pretended to like, was the one who’d bought her the spiked drink in the crowded bar. She recognised the last person – an actor in a TV show she’d never watched who had a ridiculous name that she couldn’t remember.

The woman had an amazing smile and incredible bone struc- ture and wonderful hair. It shone in the candlelight. “I take it Jason has explained what’s going to happen,” she said.

“Don’t bother with this one,” Jason said, somewhat grumpily. “She’s not that bright.”

Valkyrie ignored him. “I’m a huge fan,” she said. “Aw, thank you.” “That film where you were out for revenge on the men who’d killed your husband? That was brilliant.”

“That’s really sweet of you to say so. I did a lot of my own stunts for that one.”

“The fight scenes were excellent.” The woman smiled at the others. “Do we have to kill her? She has such great taste!”

The others chuckled – all except Jason. He didn’t chuckle even a little bit.

“We should do it now,” he said. The woman frowned at him. Victoria, that was her name. Victoria Leigh. “Before the Master gets here?”

“It’s almost midnight. We’ll have to do it anyway, with or without him.”

“The Master will not be pleased,” said the sitcom star.

“Then the Master should be on time for the human sacrifice,” Jason snapped back. “The rest of us are all here, aren’t we? And we have careers. I have to be on set in two hours, and don’t you have an early call tomorrow?”

“I do have an early call,” murmured the sitcom star. Victoria checked the slender gold watch on her slender pale wrist. “OK, fine, get everything ready to go. We’ll wait till the last second. If the Master arrives in time, excellent. If he doesn’t, we’ll do it ourselves on the stroke of midnight.”

The others nodded and went off to fetch whatever they needed to fetch. Victoria stepped closer, though, brushing Valkyrie’s hair back off her face.

“You’re a pretty one,” she said. “Not leading-lady beautiful, perhaps, but definitely girl-next-door pretty. And those shoulders! Good lord! Linebacker shoulders, that’s what we call them. I can see why Tadd picked you.” Her voice softened. “Was he respectful? I’ve warned him about this in the past.”

“Pretty sure he was.”

“Good. I’ve seen far too many girls being disrespected in my business and I’d hate to be a part of something that perpetuates this behaviour.”

“Aren’t you lot going to murder me in a few minutes?”

A little laugh. “I am aware of the contradiction.”

“Good,” said Valkyrie. “Because I was worrying.”

“I have to say... What’s your name?”

“Valkyrie.”

“Ah, from Norse mythology. Very nice. I have to say, Valkyrie, you’re surprisingly calm about this whole thing.”

Valkyrie shrugged as much as she was able. “I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’ve been in worse situations.”

“You have?” “It’s all worked out in the end.” “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight.”

“We’ll see.” “Indeed we will, Valkyrie. That’s a great attitude to have. We will indeed see. So tell me, what brings you out to LA? Aspiring actress?”

“Actually, I’m thinking of getting into stuntwork. I like being physical, you know? Throwing people around, crashing through windows, falling off rooftops... That’s my kind of thing.”

“Oh, I admire stunt people so much, I really do. I know this great little team down in Glendale. Such a shame you’re dying tonight – someone as athletic as you, you’d have fit in perfectly.”

“Can I ask you something? This Master guy you’re waiting on – who is he?”

“You sure you want to know? Well, why the hell not – you won’t be telling anyone, right? He’s a sorcerer. He’s magic.”

“Like one of those street magicians?”

Victoria’s laugh was as pretty as her eyes. “No, no, not like those street magicians. I mean he’s actually, really, genuinely magic. He can move things just by waving his hands. He clicks his fingers and he’s holding a ball of fire in his palm.”

“No kidding?”

“I swear it’s true.”

“And why does he make you sacrifice people?”

“Well, he gets his power from Satan, you see. He’s Satan’s emissary here on earth. All of us in our little group, we’re the ones who sacrifice the girls and, as a reward, Satan grants the Master the power to fulfil our wildest dreams.”

“Golly,” said Valkyrie.

“I know.”

“And does it work? Do your wildest dreams come true?”

Victoria made a seesawing motion with her hand. “It’s not an exact science. We get a lot of callbacks during pilot season, a lot of interest from casting agents and directors... but really Satan just opens the door. It’s up to us to walk through.”

“Right, right,” said Valkyrie. “So Satan is real, then?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Wow. And that’s all he asks for? Human sacrifice?”

“Yes. And a commission.”

“A commission?”

“That goes to the Master. For living expenses, you know.”

“So the Master gets a cut of whatever you make? How big a cut?”

Victoria hesitated. “Forty per cent.”

“Seriously?”

“But it’s worth it. Tadd wouldn’t have got that sitcom if it wasn’t for the Master, and I’m on a shortlist for the role of a wartime correspondent. It’s based on a true story and the script has a lot of buzz around it right now.”

“Good luck with that one. I hope you get it.”

“Thank you.” The others came back. Tadd held a candelabra of seven long- stemmed, unlit black candles, and the other one, the actor whose ridiculous name Valkyrie couldn’t remember, carried a box of polished oak. Jason Randal opened the box, and took out a long, curved dagger. The corners of his mouth lifted when he looked at Valkyrie.

“We still have two minutes,” Victoria said.

“She needs to be dead at midnight,” Jason responded. “I know the rules.”

“We should do it now, to be sure she dies.”

“We’ll do it at eleven fifty-nine. So long as you stab her in the heart, she’ll be dead in seconds. Light the ceremonial candles.”

The ridiculously named actor put the box down and came hurrying over, digging through his robes. He produced a silver Zippo, flicked it open and ran the flint wheel along his thigh. It sparked to a flame, and he put the flame to the seven black candles. Tadd held the candelabra aloft.

“The candles,” he said, “are lit.”

“The dagger,” Jason intoned, “is sharp.” “The time,” Victoria said, eyes on her watch, “is now.”

Jason grinned and raised the dagger and then the seven candles went out.

“Oh,” said Tadd. “Sorry.”

Jason glared. “Relight them.” The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open again, ran it across his leg again, and lit the candles again.

Sheepishly, Tadd held the candelabra aloft once more. “The candles are lit.”

Then they went out again. “For God’s sake,” Jason muttered.

“Are you standing in a draught or something?” Victoria asked. “Move over there, and don’t hold them up so high this time. Come on, we’re running out of time. Relight them.”

The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open. “I swear,” said Jason, “if you run that up your leg one more time, I am stabbing you instead of this girl. Do you understand? Just light the damn candles.”

The actor narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to be a—”

“Light the candles, Maverick!” said Jason and Victoria at the same time.

Maverick. That was his name. Maverick Reels. What a silly name. Not that someone who’d called herself Valkyrie Cain could throw stones, but still.

As Maverick fumbled with the Zippo, the cellar door opened and a man swept down the stairs. “Hail Satan!” he cried.

“Hail Satan!” the others cried back.

“Hail Satan,” Valkyrie added, just to be in with the cool kids.

“Midnight is almost upon us!” said the Master, summoning fire into his hand and passing it over the candelabra, lighting each wick. “Why does this girl still live? Kill her! Deliver her soul to the Dark Lord!”

“Voldemort?” Valkyrie asked, frowning. The Master pulled down his hood. He didn’t look like a Master. He looked like a mid-level office manager with a bad goatee. He peered at her. “Do I know you?”

“Do you?”

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Have you?”

“I’ve seen your photograph,” he said.

“Where have you seen it?”

“I’m trying to remember,” he said.

“Think hard now.”

“Stop talking.”

“Maybe it wasn’t even me,” Valkyrie said. “Was it a photo taken in a burning city? Then it wasn’t me. It was a god who just looked like me.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, no.” Valkyrie’s magic crackled, white lightning dancing around her wrists and ankles, burning through the ropes.

Panicking, the Master grabbed the dagger from Jason just as one of the skeletons in rags stepped away from the wall and seized his wrist.

“Let’s not do anything hasty,” Skulduggery said, and everyone in the little group of satanic worshippers screamed and leaped away as he punched the Master right on the hinge of his jaw.

The Master’s knees buckled and he collapsed into Skulduggery’s arms, and Valkyrie broke free of the scaffolding holding her and followed the actors as they scrambled up the cellar steps.

She caught Maverick just as the door crashed open, pulling him off the steps. He flailed madly and she ducked as he spun, then clocked him right on the chin. He stiffened and pitched backwards. Valkyrie left him there and ran after the others.

She emerged from the cellar into an impressively big house – a movie star’s house. Lots of glass and exposed brick and open spaces. She followed the sounds of panic to the front door, where Jason and Victoria and Tadd were cursing each other as they tried to navigate the locks.

They heard her coming. Tadd let out a roar and came charging. He was shorter than Valkyrie, and skinnier, and she stepped into him, stopping him with a shoulder. He staggered a little and her fingers curled into his hair and she smacked his face against the painting on the wall over and over until he fell down.

Victoria ran into another room as Jason Randal dropped his robe and squared up to Valkyrie. He was big. He had muscles. He moved like he knew what he was doing, or he’d at least worked with fight choreographers – but when he threw the first punch it was stiff and awkward and badly judged, and it stopped a good hand’s length short of where it needed to land. He didn’t have a clue, and this wasn’t worth bruising her knuckles over, so Valkyrie blasted him with a little lightning that threw him back against the door. He fell in a crumpled, unconscious heap and she went after Victoria. She was standing in the huge living room holding a poker like a baseball bat.

“This isn’t going to do me a whole lot of good, is it?” she asked after a moment.

Valkyrie gave a shrug, and Victoria sighed, and put the poker down.

“Was that an actual skeleton I saw downstairs, or was it some sort of special effect?”

“It was a skeleton. He’s alive and he talks. His name’s Skulduggery.”

“Of course it is,” Victoria said, and took a seat, wearily, on the couch. “So you’re a sorcerer, too, are you?”

“Yep.”

“You a Satanist also?”

Valkyrie sat opposite, and crossed her legs. “That guy’s not a Satanist. None of us are Satanists. Magic has got nothing to do with religion. Those people you sacrificed? The devil didn’t collect their souls. Those people just died.”

Victoria took a while before answering. “But then why did the Master tell us to do it?”

“Well, seeing as how all this is about money, I’m guessing that in order to get the lot of you to really commit, the idiot you call Master made you kill a bunch of innocent people so you couldn’t change your minds and back out at a later date.”

Victoria’s face slackened. “We didn’t have to kill those girls?”

“Nope.”

“But... but our careers... How did he—?”

“There’s a trick sorcerers can do once they know the name you were born with. They can tell you to do stuff. Not big stuff, not life-changing stuff – he wouldn’t have been able to coax a whole lot of money out of you that way – but he could certainly have suggested to casting agents that it’d be a good idea to call you in for a second audition, things like that.”

“Oh my God...”

“Yep.”

“What... what’s going to happen to me now?”

“You’re going to jail.”

“I should call my attorney.”

“You won’t need an attorney,” said Valkyrie. “You’re going to one of our jails. All four of you will disappear. No one will know where you are.”

“But my family... My fans...”

“They’ll never see you again.”

Victoria stared at her. “You can’t do that.”

“By our estimation, you’ve murdered sixteen young women between the four of you. We might be wrong. You might have murdered more.”

“But the Master told us we had to.”

“Stop calling him Master. He’s just some low-level sorcerer who couldn’t be bothered doing the work of a real agent so he invented this Satanist thing to make some money out of you morons. And I don’t care what he told you. You had a choice. You could have chosen not to murder sixteen innocent young women. Obviously, that’s not the road you decided to go down.”

Victoria sat forward, elbows on her knees, hands hidden by the voluminous sleeves of her robe, evidently processing what she could. “I can’t go to jail,” she said slowly. “I’m on a shortlist. That part could win me an Oscar.” She straightened up. She had a gun in her hand. “I’m really sorry.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Sorcerers aren’t bulletproof, are they?” Victoria asked.

“No, we’re not,” said Valkyrie.

“I’m really sorry about this.”

“Are you, though?”

Victoria thumbed back the hammer. It made a pleasing little click. “I’m not the best shot in the world,” she said, “but I’m not bad, either. That revenge movie I was in? My firearms coach told me I was a natural. But, even if I were the worst shot in the world, I couldn’t miss from this range even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, I bet you could if you tried.”

“Will a gun kill your skeleton friend?”

“Not that gun.”

“Then I’ll just kill you.”

Valkyrie tapped the amulet on her hip and the black suit spread outwards, covering her skin and her clothes, flowing down to her feet and to her fingertips before Victoria’s eyes could even finish widening.

The gun went off. The bullet hit Valkyrie in the belly and she grunted, sitting forward slightly. She pulled the hood up as a second bullet struck her chest. Christ, that stung. Her fingers found the mask in the hood and she pulled it down and felt it turn solid over her face as Victoria stood and proceeded to empty the gun into her. Valkyrie wondered what the skull mask looked like today.

Every time she pulled it down, it was slightly different than the time before. It was like Skulduggery’s façade in that way. Victoria’s final bullet hit Valkyrie in the forehead, making the mask reverberate. Valkyrie stood up.

“I thought you said you weren’t bulletproof,” Victoria said quietly, the gun hanging uselessly by her side.

“I’m not,” Valkyrie responded, brushing a squashed bullet from her chest. “The suit is. I was going to give you the option of leaving this house in cuffs, as opposed to unconscious, but...”

“But I just tried to kill you?”

Valkyrie shrugged, took the gun away from her.

“Please,” Victoria said, “not the face.”

“Sure,” Valkyrie said, and hit her in the face anyway.

#skulduggery pleasant #spoilers #preview #seasons of war #also the illustrator for the american covers is neil swaab #cover art #long post

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