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nonexistent-introvert · 1 year

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Remembrance (Paper Stars pt 4)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count 2.4k

Content: Joel being a Dad, arguments, angst, fluff

A/N: A new chapter after just 3 days?? Im shocked too. I recently started watching The Mandalorian and took some pretty generic quotes from it. Anyways, lots of Joel content in this one.

Paper Stars Masterlist

Joel was sitting in your living room again. He had made the habit of coming over to talk to you when he was free after he put Sarah to bed. You sat down beside him with a huff. “Welcome back to therapy Joel Miller, how can I help you today?” You joked, “Haha.” Joel deadpanned, glancing at the clock. When he first came over, he was afraid that he was keeping you up late to which you admitted that you had a ruined sleep schedule anyways and it was proven when he had woken up in the dead of night and noticed that the lights in your house were still on. A bad habit that he constantly nags at you to change.

“Joel, what the hell?” You picked up his hand, a gesture that took him by surprise until he realised what caught your attention. “I accidentally cut myself at work, no big deal.” He explained, pulling away his hand that was filled with cuts, his fingers had plasters all over them. “Were you cutting wood or your fingers?” “The plasters were from my guitar and the cuts from work. It’s fine.” He insisted. You narrowed your gaze at him, “You’ve been playing guitar for decades Joel, I’ve never seen injure yourself till this point, even when you first started out.” “It’s just a precaution, in case wood shavings get into it.” Joel insisted, looking away from you, a sign that he didn’t want to continue with this conversation. You bit back the urge to ask anymore, gently settling his hand back on his lap.

Joel glanced at you, guilt welling up in his chest at the withdrawn look on your face. He knew you were worried, but he couldn’t tell you the actual reason behind his cuts yet, not now. He shifted in his seat, rubbing his palms together. “Are you having trouble sleeping?” You questioned, noticing the locket around his neck. He snapped out of his daze, “Oh, um, not really. It’s been better, just on some days.” He picked up the locket, fiddling with it. “I just wear it around these days, Sarah noticed it one day, said it quite suits me.” It was a lie, Sarah said that you suited him as a partner, not the locket. You grinned, jumping up excitedly before scrambling up your stairs.

When you came back to him, there was a bracelet around your wrist. The very same bracelet he had given you then. His eyes shone in delight, “That was weeks of pocket money, I’m glad you kept it.” Joel laughed, you frowned, “You’re such a liar Joel.” The smile on his face disappeared, “I asked you then! You said it didn’t cost much.” Joel grinned, pulling you closer as he admired the bracelet on your hand. “It didn’t, but it was still a lot for a high school student’s pocket money.” You shook your head at him, smiling softly at him.

================================================

Tommy couldn’t seem to be able to wipe the smile off his face ever since he saw you. A warmth settling in his chest upon seeing you again. He had spent most of his savings just to afford the plane ticket here to see you.

“Cheers!” You downed the alcohol in your hand, “Can you believe it? We’re finally of drinking age.” Tommy said. You beamed at him, “Fucking blessing, I can drown in my sorrows openly now without worrying that the FBI would come after me or something.”You remarked, Tommy snickered, taking another mouthful of his beer.

“I wish Joel could be here with us. The three of us again.” You glanced at Tommy, the both of you haven’t talked about Joel in the longest time. The last time Tommy had mentioned him, well, Tommy didn’t seem to be on the best terms with his older brother, you were at least glad that it seemed that was water under the bridge. “Is he well?” You questioned, heart pacing at the mere mention of him. “Keeps to himself a lot more now, older and more mature. Other than that, I think it is still him. I don’t see him as often nowadays.” Tommy shrugged, he was never as good as Joel when it comes to concealing his emotions. “He’s been busy, trying to raise a kid and all. I heard that things between him and Lorraine aren’t all that well either. We try not to butt in, you know Joel, he doesn’t like people in his business, wants to fix everything himself.” “Guess that didn’t change.” You remarked. “If Joel wasn’t stubborn, the sun would rise from the west.” Tommy snarked.

“You know, Joel doesn’t show or tell it but, he misses you too.” Tommy said. You poured yourself another glass of whiskey. “Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you guys had just been a bit braver and told each other about your feelings for each other. Maybe we would be happier.” You swallowed, “Tommy he doesn’t-” Tommy shook his head, “And if he does?” Tommy challenged. You shook your head, riding it of the thoughts, of the hope that was rising, it was dangerous, the hope would hurt you deeper. “Tommy I can’t-” “Just think about it, entertain it for a while. What if?” You took a breath, calming yourself down.

“Then he’ll get over it, we all do.”

“Over what?”

“Any feelings he has towards me.”

“Are you saying that you no longer-”

“Yes.” A short and concise answer.

“I don’t see him that way anymore.”

================================================

That was the biggest lie you have ever told anyone.

You never did get over Joel and you weren’t sure if you ever would.

“Is there something on my face?” Joel said, looking at you. You snapped out of your daze, looking away from him in embarrassment. You have just been caught staring, what the hell was wrong with you? “Shut up.” You told him, standing up from the couch as you headed up the stairs. He sent you a confused look before returning his attention back to the soccer match that was playing on his TV, a single beer in hand, one that he had been trying his hardest to make last, one that you had so generously granted him.

“What did you need to talk in private about?” Sarah bounced up from her chair, shushing you as she closed the door. “Dad can’t hear about this.” You furrowed your eyebrows at the teenager. “You alright? You’re not hurt or anything are you?” Your eyes scanned Sarah, she shook her head. Sarah moved to the calendar that was sitting on her table and brought it over to you, pointing at the day that is circled, “Dad’s birthday” written in blue ink with doodles of a birthday cake. “Are you planning on doing anything for Dad?” Sarah asked. You stiffened, you were never good with gifts or planning any kind of birthday events. Joel was always alright with not receiving anything since you were kids but now that Sarah was asking, you suddenly felt obliged to. “I..” “Actually, never mind. I just need ideas on what to get Dad. It’s his 30th birthday, a milestone I would say.” Sarah explained. “I’m sure Joel would appreciate a card.” Sarah stuck out her tongue in disgust, “That’s boring.” You thought of the man that was sitting downstairs,

“Uh.. a bag of coffee beans?” “I don’t know how to choose coffee.”

“A jersey?” “Dad doesn’t even like wearing jerseys.”

“A mug.” “That’s generic”

You exhaled, not knowing how to please Sarah. “Well, he has been complaining that his watch is slow and he has to fix it every time.” Sarah's eyes widened, “That's it! I’ll get him a watch!” Your jaw dropped, “Do you even have money for a watch?”

Sarah smiled, “Money isn’t the problem here, could always sell some hardcore drugs for some.”

“You’ve spent too much time with Uncle Tommy.” You sighed, Sarah laughed, “and you and Dad.” “You did not just lump me in the same group as Tommy and Joel. I don’t talk like a wannabe criminal.” You defended. “Just that day you were telling them about how just resorting to crime would make life so much easier.” You stuck out a hand to stop her, “Ok I get it, Sarah Miller.”

==============================

Joel knew trouble was brewing the moment he parked his truck in the garage. Well, trouble has been brewing for a few days now. The arguments between him and Lorraine got more often as the days passed. She was supposed to be someone he looked forward coming home to but he has been intentionally taking more projects and working late, he could use the extra money anyways.

The sound of Sarah’s cries greeted him the moment he stepped foot into the house. Lorraine sat on the couch, trying her best to ignore the cries coming from the room upstairs, an annoyed look on her face. He merely glared at her before running up the stairs. She sat next to her toys. “What’s wrong?” Joel asked, scanning Sarah when he noticed that her knee was scraped. He frowned, “It's ok babygirl, it's ok.” He gently pulled Sarah’s hands away from her face, while blowing gently onto the scrape. Joel picked Sarah up with ease and headed into the bedroom, placing her onto the bed before heading to get the first aid kit in the washroom.

“I’m sorry.” He apologised while applying the alcohol onto the scrape, Sarah’s cries grew louder, cries that broke his heart. “I’m sorry” he kept muttering to Sarah. When he was done with the scrape, he placed everything back into the first aid kit and placed a kiss on Sarah’s head. Sarah’s hands clutched onto his shirt and he found himself leaning down further for her to hug him. He pat her back, muttering assurances into her ear as he tried to calm her down.

Joel poured himself a glass of water, he felt Lorraine’s gaze on his back, one that he’s trying to ignore too. Anger rose in him, anger that he may not be able to contain if they talked, the exhaustion from a day of work would not be helping either. “Joel.” She called out to him, he felt himself clenching the glass just a little harder but still found himself sitting down on the armchair across from her. He didn’t say anything, raising his voice and arguing with her was too exhausting.

“Joel, I just can’t- “ he turned to look at her.

“Joel, I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” Joel snapped. Lorraine was crying, tears falling from her eyes as she stood up. “You’re just going to leave?” Joel questioned, standing up to stop her. “I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.” She apologised. “What about Sarah? It’ll break her heart.” He tried to reason. “Joel I can’t- I can’t sit here and waste my days. I’m not ready to be a mother!” Joel fumed, he wasn’t ready to be a father then either, who gave her the right to just walk out? “Lorraine you’re being ridiculous.” He said. “Our relationship has been rocky anyways, I can’t stay home and take care of Sarah. I can’t live this life.” She shouted. Joel clenched his jaw, “Leave then. Sarah deserves better.” He snarled. Lorraine’s jaw dropped at his words, “You’re not the good guy Joel.” Joel’s eyes widened, “I’m not the good guy? I’m not the one leaving! I’m the one working like a horse to pay the bills and you know what I come back to? A mother who ignores her child’s cries! Sarah is four! You’re supposed to be looking after her, it was only a scrape but what if it had been worse?” Joel raised his voice. Lorraine flinched, picking up the luggage she had packed that was hidden behind the door. “I’ll go back to my mother’s. The divorce papers should come soon.” She declared before slamming the door.

========================

“What the hell?” It was the only response that came out of you upon hearing Joel’s retelling of his story. You stood up, Joel wasn’t sure if it was emotionally driven. You came back with two beers, “Here you need it.” Joel shook his head. “I’m good.” You were surprised to see him refuse but didn’t insist. He wasn’t supposed to be drinking anyways. You placed the beer on the table, an offer, in case he changed his mind. “Fuck, I think I need something stronger to digest what you just told me.” You downed the beer in your hand.

“The people around her were enjoying their youth, pursuing dreams. I see why she did that.” Joel said. You gave him an appalled look, “Does that not apply to you? You gave up dreams too!” Joel shook his head, “I stopped blaming her for it. It’s tiring. Sarah is enough, glad that I still have her.” You couldn’t understand Joel, you didn’t know how he was so forgiving. “I never said it was a good reason to leave, I just understood why she did that.” He clarified. You moved closer to him, letting his warmth warm you too. “Were you guys happy?” You questioned, half expecting Joel to not answer.

“I wouldn’t say happy, it was tough but there were its peaceful moments. When I would come back and be greeted with smiles. When she tried her best to take care of Sarah.” You hummed.

He sat up, deciding to lighten the mood a little. “Hey, this Sunday’s dinner you coming?” He asked, changing the topic. You took another sip of your beer, “I’m always there.” He smiled, “Tommy ain’t joining us.” “Why? He finally got himself a date?” Joel shook his head, amusement evident on his face. “It’s just us it seems, Sarah said she’s going over to her friend's house.”

“Aw, a date.” You joked, “if you want it to be.” Joel laughed.

“Well, you better make it special.” Joel raised his eyebrows, “you challenging me?” You nodded. “Yeah of course I’ll make your first date special.” “This is not my first date Joel!” You defended, shoving him playfully. He chuckled, “Your first actual date. I guarantee your previous ones would seem like playdates.” You shoved him again.

“Don’t be cocky Miller.”

“Sunday dinner, 7pm.” He declared with a smile.

“Yes, Joel. Should I dress up?”

“You look pretty enough, darling.”

tag: @wolfieellsworld

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utapri-translations-uuuu · 3 months

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The Wizards’ Expectations - Translation (魔法使いの思惑)

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

I have also made a version which includes the members' notes found in the script.

[The five people’s great efforts - Quadling, Glinda’s palace]

Glinda is watching over the five of them using magic.

Glinda: The steady progress of these five since then has been remarkable. A steep cliff obstructed the group’s path. Just when everyone had given up thinking that there was no way they could not cross it, that cowardly Lion stepped up of his own accord!

He applauds and praises with great delight.

Glinda: Carrying his companions on his back one at a time, he leaped across it. And lo and behold, they went beyond the gulf with ease! The companions are overjoyed by this.

He explains the situation using gestures.

Glinda: When they came across an even bigger chasm, even the Lion would have trouble jumping over it, but this time the Scarecrow came up with the idea of chopping down a large tree and using it as a bridge. Everyone was impressed by his quick thinking.

With a big nod, looking impressed.

Glinda: Next appeared a broad river. As if it were simply his turn now, the Tin Woodman wasted no time in chopping down trees to make a big raft. Even with a body that never tires, it must have been a difficult task.

Glinda acts as if is surprised by the critical situation.

Glinda: While crossing the river, the Scarecrow got stranded in the middle, and was nearly left behind…! Despite this crisis, they were able to reunite by working together.

He puts his hands together and clasps them tightly.

Glinda: Their friendship deepened as they were able to overcome all kinds of obstacles together. Adventure is always accompanied by danger, but you’ll be fine if you have valued companions with you. They make it look that way…

Glinda turns around and speaks to Oz who is far away.

Glinda: Don’t you think so…? Hey, Oz. I’m sure you’re watching, too, as this journey unfolds…

[Oz and Glinda - Quadling, Glinda’s palace]

Using magic, Oz and Glinda talk to each other.

Oz: … Glinda, spying is ugly. It doesn’t sound like something a great wizard would do, does it?

Glinda: I wasn’t watching you. I was just worried about what would happen to those boys.

Smiling, he puts a hand over his mouth.

Glinda: Since the goal is to come to you, it’s only natural to care about it. Aren’t you wondering about them, too? Whether they’ll arrive safely…

Oz turns away from him aloofly.

Oz: Hmph… I have no obligation to do so. I was merely watching them to kill time. It’s unusual for humans to come to this country, after all.

He gazes at the five people shown in the crystal ball with a grim expression.

Oz: The path to the Emerald City is not an easy one. It can’t possibly work out like in a story.

Glinda: You make it sound like you don’t want it to go well. Yes, the real world may be that way… Even if you try to change the situation, you can’t. Sometimes things don’t go the way we want them to.

Glinda opens his arms wide.

Glinda: But this is a magical land… It’s an extraordinary world where any miracle can happen. Of course, magic is not all-powerful, but… Isn’t it also true that opportunities are given to those who believe?

Oz: I’m the one who decides whether to help them or not. As the one who reigns over the Emerald City, I must uphold order and tradition.

He sullenly brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

Oz: Now, will you please go away? If you interfere any further, I have some ideas of my own.

Glinda shudders and pretends to be scared.

Glinda: Oh, how terrifying… Shall I excuse myself, lest I spoil the great wizard’s mood? Well then…

By undoing the spell, the communication with Oz is cut off.

Anticipating the difficulties that are to come, he worries about the five of them.

Glinda: Those who seek sincerely shall be saved... No matter what challenges they face, they’ll surely be able to overcome them….

#uta no prince sama #utapri #translation #english #he★vens #heavens #drama cd #eiichi otori #kira sumeragi #nagi mikado #eiji otori #van kiryuin #yamato hyuga #shion amakusa #dramatic masterpiece show #dreaming of oz

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emmajh97-mumaji · 2 years

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My Name Is Donna Strange 🔮

(Prequel to this short story)

When I was little, my older brother Stephen always looked out for me. I was a stupid kid, constantly getting into trouble.

One day, our little brother Victor dared me to dive into a frozen lake. So I did.

It was a miracle that Stephen was able to save me... but in the process, his fingers were horribly frostbitten. The doctors were unable to save his hands...

Stephen dreamt his whole life of becoming a surgeon... but now his dreams were dashed. He could barely open a tin can, much less hold a scalpel. ...and it was all my fault.

Whenever I brought it up, he'd put on a smile and tell me I was "worth more than any career". I knew Stephen meant it, but I still caught glimpses of him moping when he thought I wasn't looking. The guilt became too much to bear-!

"If you can't be a doctor, then I will!"

I dedicated the following years of my life to learning everything there was to know about medical science. I got my doctorate at an esteemed college, and began interning under the great Dr. Curtis Conners. I hoped his stem cell research would help me find a way to restore my brother's hands.

All of it was to find a way to redeem myself... to make my brother happy...

I was a fool. I would give up all those nights studying... all those nights stuck in a lab... if it meant I could spend one more day with my family.

It was going to be a fun evening at the movies, just the three of us. I kept telling myself I was close to a breakthrough, so I hadn't slept in two days. I was tired, but Stephen was disabled and Victor didn't have his license yet. I was the only one who could drive.

I don't know when I passed out... all I know is that the car had spun off into oncoming traffic. I survived with no injuries... but Stephen and Vincent in the back seat... weren't so lucky.

Everything felt meaningless after that. All the research in the world wouldn't bring my brothers back from the dead. Was it my destiny to make worse mistakes every time I tried to fix them? I lost all hope... Walking to the edge of a bridge, I thought of ending it all...

But then, just as I jumped, a man used some sort of glowing energy to create a portal beneath me-! I was standing back on the bridge as if I had never fallen.

"Do not throw your life away, Donna."

"How do you know my name? And what did you just do?!"

"My name is Kaecilius, and I know many things... I know what it's like to lose everyone you love. To be saddled by a heavy burden that will never go away... but I also know how it feels to find purpose again."

Soon after that encounter I found my way to Kamar-taj... and became a disciple of the Ancient One. It took some time for me to fully accept that magic was real... but once I did, the cosmic feeling of the multiverse guided my heart.

I joined Kaecilius on a few missions to protect the realm from mystical threats. My greatest challenge was Mordo and his band of Dormammu-worshipping zealots. It was a terrible battle but, using some cunning and the Time Stone, I somehow wound up victorious.

I've fought Thanos, aided Spider-Man... and have risen in the ranks through many years of mystic study.

Now I guard the Sanctum Sanctorum in New York. (Thanks in part to a loophole of Master Wong getting blipped) I am currently the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth!

I take pride in my new purpose... Every life I save from mystic threat is another Vincent... another Stephen that can go home and hug their family.

I hope I make them proud.

#emmajh97's posts #Doctor Strange #dr. strange #MCU #What If...?#Marvel #alternate universe #Marvel AU #Donna Strange

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carewyncromwell · 4 months

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“Torn apart by rage and fear... Hold on to what brought you here! Don't let it go...never let go!”

~“Never Let Go” by Josh Groban

x~x~x~x

From the night the Wizarding World as a whole first learned of the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Hermia Flume and Florean Fortescue wrote each other two letters every day, once in the morning and once in night, so as to make sure the other was safe. In those letters, there were many things said -- fears about the future, for example --

Callie just wrote to confirm the casualties from the Brockton Bridge affair -- twenty-two Muggles, including three children, all drowned in their own cars when the bridge collapsed. Apparently reports claimed You-Know-Who ordered Fudge to step down as Minister for Magic, and Fudge refused, so You-Know-Who ordered the destruction of the bridge in retaliation. Truthfully I don’t blame Fudge for this, even despite everything, but the thought of such widespread destruction ever coming here...it’s horrific to think.

I’m sorry for sounding so grim. It’s just the Death Eaters have gotten so bold, Mia, and in such little time. It’s like they were all just secretly waiting for the opportunity to go mad. With Brockton Bridge having been demolished so openly, it’s only a matter of time before the Ministry will have to choose simply saving lives over hiding things cleanly from Muggles, at which point it’ll be even harder for things to go back to normal.

Dad’s been losing himself more and more, lately. I don’t know if it’s him subconsciously wanting to mentally escape in the midst of all this, or if it’s just his age catching up with him, but either way, Mum and I are both really worried. The world is scary enough as it is right now -- if we lost Dad too, I don’t know what we’d do.

On the subject of Voldemort’s interest in Hogwarts, I wrote another letter to the Daily Prophet today, outlining that very concern. Grandfather has tried once again to tell me to keep my head down and stop writing letters to the paper, but quite frankly, I’m done with staying quiet, when all of his associates at the Ministry ever did was lie to everyone’s faces. I know you’ll understand my frustration, at least, my dear Mia...

Other times, it was wistful memories of days past, to try to bring some joy back into the other’s cheeks.

I had Purple Rain stuck in my head today at work, specifically in your voice. Oh, how I wish I could hear you sing it again now, the way you did when we got stuck in the rain on our way back to your family’s shop! Just like the words say, my dear Mia, all I want is to see you laughing.

I mixed up a brand new flavor of No-Melt Ice Cream today, in your honor! I thought a French Vanilla and Cherry would be a perfect representation for your old house colors. I remember when you first told me you were a Gryffindor, I had such trouble seeing it...only for you to then prove me wrong by jumping into that fountain without a second thought to fetch my scarf when it flew off in the wind! “Typical Gryffindor,” as I said!

Still other times, there were even arguments, about how best to fight back against the rising threat.

Your grandfather is right to worry about you, Florean. You’re not a soldier -- neither of us are.

We might never have been meant to be soldiers, but we’ve been drafted into service all the same, Mia.

You have to take care of yourself too, Florean. What good could you do for me, your family, or your business, if you’re dead?

To your question, I must ask -- if I place more value on my own life than I do on the people and world that sustain it, how can I consider myself worthy of either?

Ending most of them, though, were affirmations of the love they still felt for each other, even after so many years waiting for their families to get on the same page as them.

Florean...I know with the War going on, our families need us more than ever, and I know it’s selfish of me...but I miss you. My hands ache to touch you, and my ears long to hear you, for real, not just in my own head. I love you so much...

My Mia...oh, how I wish I could say that a million more times over, my Mia. My Mia. My dear, brave, beautiful, wonderful, brilliant Mia. However scary this world is, please take comfort knowing that you are the fire in my heart that keeps me going. You’re a candle that lights me with hope, and a passionate flare that makes me want to fight for a better world, even if it seems so far away. I love you more than I could ever say, and I hope you know that it’s out of longing for that dream of ours -- of finally marrying and starting a family of our own -- that gives me courage.

One can imagine, therefore, that when Mia did not receive her expected letter from Florean the night of July 30, 1996, she immediately got the bad feeling that something was wrong. And alas...she was right.

Mia stayed up very late that night, unable to sleep as she waited for Florean’s letter. When it still hadn’t arrived by ten o’clock, she decided to bite the bullet and write a quick letter to him herself -- just to make sure he was all right.

Dear Florean,

I didn’t receive your last letter, so I thought I’d send this along, in case it got lost in transit. With things the way they are, I’m sure owls are having to fly through a bit more than they used to...

Callie came to visit me earlier today, looking terribly upset. After making her some of my spiced hot chocolate, she confided in me that the WWN has been telling her to “brighten up” her broadcasts and not focus so much on what’s happening with the Death Eaters, so as to alleviate all the fear in the country. Admittedly this is something Callie’s always been good at, so I sort of just assumed that wouldn’t be a problem for her -- but she said she didn’t want to lie to her listeners either. Things are scary, and even if she wants to give them hope, she doesn’t want to just pretend nothing’s happening. Callie and I have never been as close as Tia and I are, even when we were little...but you know, ever since the War’s started, I’m coming to realize how similar we really are...

Speaking of Tia, she told me she hopes to take Olin and Skyler shopping in Diagon Alley later this month. Skyler’s starting his first year, and even if he hasn’t gotten his list of books yet, she thought it might be practical to get some of the usual things like robes and his cauldron early, so they wouldn’t have as much to carry home. I also suspect she wants to celebrate Skyler’s eleventh a little early, to cheer him up. I don’t suppose I can secretly buy an ice cream cake from you, as a surprise for Skyler when he visits? I’ll pay with both Galleons and several dozen kisses.

I know it’s probably just me worrying, but please send me back a letter as soon as you get this. Even if we must be separated physically, I don’t think I could bear it if we were prevented from communicating as well.

I love you,

Mia

Mia sent the owl off and then waited patiently by the window for a response. She waited for two hours -- three -- and then four -- and still no answer.

When her owl came back into sight very early the following morning at 5 AM, Mia’s heart leapt. She immediately opened the window and held her arm out for the owl to land on it, before taking its burden from its beak. Her heart clenched, though, when she saw what the owl was holding.

It was her letter, the envelope’s seal opened, with a quick note scrawled in elegant penmanship at the bottom under her name.

Miss Flume, My grandson has been taken by the Death Eaters. The Daily Prophet will release a full report in the morning.

Silas Fortescue

~*~

The Daily Prophet article the following morning was the most terrible, heart-wrenching thing to read.

According to reports, a group of masked, dark-robed Death Eaters had entered his store around closing time, only for the ice cream shop to be overwhelmed with the sound of loud pops and explosions that could only come about from a duel having broken out. It didn’t take long, though, for the five men to overpower Florean and drag him right out of his trashed shop and into the street, before Disapparating with him in front of about a dozen witnesses. The store had been cordoned off by the Aurors as they investigated, and of course the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, said that the Ministry would do all it could to locate the missing shopkeeper...but all of their reassurances did little to assuage Mia’s worry. Even when she tried to follow up with Florean’s grandfather Silas, he refused to tell her anything that the Aurors had told him, which greatly upset Mia.

Mr. Fortescue, please believe me -- I want to find Florean just as much as you do. I’ll chase down whatever leads I can, talk to whomever I have to...I just need a place to start.

But Silas Fortescue seemed too stubborn and wounded to accept her help.

However much the Daily Prophet claims it doesn’t know the rationale for my grandson being taken, I know in my heart it was because of him playing with fire -- involving himself in this War and speaking out against the likes of the Dark Lord, regardless of the risk to himself. And I know my grandson well enough to know that he was never this rebellious, nor this outspoken, until he collided with you.

I am not a foolish man -- I know full well what happens when people are taken by Dark wizards. It’s exactly what happened to Florean’s parents, when he was but a young boy, before I took him in. So please, spare me your false hope, and leave this old man alone to his grief. You’ve caused me more than enough of it.

It got so bad that Mia actually tried going to the Auror Department on her own, to request the information herself. Unfortunately, because she wasn’t a member of the Fortescue family, they couldn’t tell her much without explicit permission from Florean’s only remaining family, Silas Fortescue. And what little they could say wasn’t encouraging.

“Miss Flume,” the Auror called Proudfoot said as kindly as he could. “I don’t know how well you remember the start of the first War...but many witches and wizards disappeared in that time, just as Mr. Fortescue and Mr. Ollivander have. And the vast majority of those people were never recovered...”

Mia refused to listen to another word. It was horrible enough that Silas Fortescue already presumed the worst about Florean -- she didn’t think she could bear listening to a Ministry employee telling her the same thing.

As the week went by, though, no new information about Florean surfaced in the press. It truly did seem as though everyone had come to the same conclusion that the Aurors and Silas had -- that Florean had been taken and killed, and his body would just be found eventually. But for Mia, the not knowing was torture. However much Tia tried to reassure her that “no news was good news,” Mia couldn’t live with herself, not knowing if Florean was out there somewhere, suffering and alone, with no one looking for him. And with the Auror Department not telling her anything, Mia became more and more desperate...until at last, she reached out to the one person she knew had contacts outside of the Ministry who might be able to help.

~*~

That Tuesday, Jacob received a mysterious box from Honeydukes, with a colorful, broken tart in pieces inside. Drawn into the inside of the lid was a strangely familiar spiral that Jacob recognized from his copy of Standard Book of Spells: Grade Two.

Cocking a curious eyebrow, Jacob took the right of his two wands out of his back pocket, made of blackthorn wood, and flicked it at the inside of the box.

“Reparo.”

In an instant, the tart repaired itself -- and at once, all of the strange colors made sense, for it in truth were rainbow frosting letters spelling out a message.

“We need to talk.”

~*~

Two hours later, Mia received a package in return. Inside she found another book -- The Odyssey by Homer -- with a wave-like symbol scratched into the inside left corner of the front cover. Once Mia had taken out her old Transfiguration textbook and found an identical wand movement diagram for the Water-Making Spell, she pointed her wand at the book’s interior cover.

“Aguamenti!”

The water fortunately didn’t damage the book -- inside, the letters written in the hydrochromic ink on the inside became visible.

“Meet me at the Three Broomsticks at 7.”

~*~

Just before 7:00 PM, Mia left her mother to close up Honeydukes and walked briskly to the Three Broomsticks, just down the road. The summer heat was heavier than it’d been in ages -- even just the short walk Mia took was enough to make anyone feel like they’d marched through a swamp.

When Mia arrived, she found the pub empty except for Madame Rosmerta, who looked paler than the chocolatier had ever seen her. When the barmaid caught sight of Mia, her eyes sparked with the slightest flicker of light, even despite the weariness of her face.

“Oh! Hello there, Mia.”

“Hi, Rosmerta,” Mia greeted for the sake of formality, before speaking much more urgently, “Is Cromwell here?”

This took Rosmerta aback. “Jacob?”

"I’m here.”

Jacob Cromwell came around the corner into the main room of the pub, fixing his long ponytail of thick dark curls as he went. He was dressed in a pair of jean shorts, Birkenstock sandals, and a faded blue Star Trek t-shirt that was the perfect size for his chest but about one size too small for his bulging biceps. His pale, skull-like face was oddly serious.

“Hermia,” he greeted her after a moment.

“Cromwell,” Mia responded back curtly.

She glanced at Rosmerta, who eyed them both curiously. Immediately feeling incredibly uncomfortable, Mia forced her focus back onto Jacob.

“...Cromwell, we need to talk. Privately.”

Jacob nodded. “Yeah, I presumed as much. Rosmerta, would you mind if we borrowed a room upstairs, for a moment?”

Rosmerta looked from Jacob to Mia again, once again looking perplexed, but actually seeming happy despite it.

“...Go ahead,” she said at last, as her lips unfurled in a fuller smile. “All but the first two are empty -- help yourself.”

“Thanks,” said Jacob.

He seemed perfectly oblivious to the encouraging look Rosmerta shot Mia behind his back. Mia shot her a rather sharp look in return.

“Don’t get any ideas -- it’s just business,” she muttered under her breath.

“I didn’t say anything,” Rosmerta said lightly.

“You didn’t have to,” Mia shot back coldly.

Rosmerta smiled amusedly.

“Honestly, Mia, I’m just glad you finally decided to give Jacob a break,” she said. “I thought for ages you could’ve been good friends, if you just gave him a chance...”

Mia gave a derisive snort.

“Hey, Hermia! You coming?” Jacob called from the top of the stairs.

“Yeah!” Mia called back.

Immediately getting right back to business, she darted up the stairs after him.

The two headed to the room at the far end of the hall, away from the only occupied rooms. Once Mia had closed the door behind them, she immediately whirled on him.

“I need to talk to you about -- ”

“Hold on,” said Jacob.

Taking out both his white Aspen and blackthorn wands out of his pockets, he pointed them at the windows, walls, and door in turn, whispering “Muffliato” each time.

“There,” he said. “That should do it.”

“I need to talk to you about Florean,” Mia said at once.

Jacob slowly turned around, slipping his wands into his pockets again. Then he listened as Mia told him everything she knew -- what the Daily Prophet had said about what happened, about the lack of updates -- about how the Auror Department couldn’t tell her anything.

“ -- I think they wanted to -- but since I’m not part of the Fortescue family, they couldn’t tell me anything about the investigation without Silas’s consent...”

Mia’s heart ached. She’d so desperately wanted to marry Florean when both her family and Florean’s grandfather had given their blessing to the union. If only Silas hadn’t been so stubborn, they could’ve married a year ago...maybe even earlier...

“...But you’re with Dumbledore’s group -- the Order of the Phoenix,” said Mia more urgently. “They’ve been fighting the Death Eaters all the way along, even before the Ministry was. You have to know where the Death Eaters took Florean -- why they took him. You have to know something...”

For once, Jacob was rather quiet. His expression was very grim as he considered Mia -- enough so that she actually faltered.

“...You do know something?” she pressed him. “You have to know something. Your sister works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- she’s told you stuff before. You have to know something.”

Jacob bowed his head.

“...I don’t know as much as you think, but...I’ll tell you what I do know.”

He exhaled lowly.

“...Fortescue was well-known to the Order, before he was taken. He was never a member, of course -- but we definitely admired him, for what he’d been writing to the Daily Prophet. Speaking out against Vol -- that guy,” he caught himself. “Saying he was nothing but a man, no matter how much he might act otherwise -- that Dumbledore and the loyalty he commanded terrified him. Calling him a coward, too afraid to die...chasing after everything from Dark magic to the Hallows of children’s stories, as Gellert Grindelwald did before him...just to try to pretend that he’s something more than the pathetic bully he is...”

Jacob’s lips were spreading into an admiring smile despite himself.

“...The bloke really has a way with words,” he said, sounding almost charmed. “And serious nards.”

“But why did they take him?” Mia pressed him.

Jacob’s face grew more serious again.

“I don’t know. My contacts have suggested that maybe his education and schools of interest might be to blame. Fortescue got an O NEWT in History of Magic and pursued magical history as a career before opening his ice cream parlor, and old Voldie has shown some interest in magical historians, as of late. I had to help my mum go into hiding recently, for the same reason. Others think it was just a matter of the Death Eaters wanting to make an example out of him...though if it was, it seems strange that they would choose to kidnap him, rather than just kill him. Like Emmeline Vance, or the McKinnons, during the first War...even Amelia Bones was attacked in her home and killed, but not Fortescue. Not Ollivander. It’s like Vol -- that bloke wanted them taken alive.”

Mia felt like her heart was being squeezed.

“Then...you think there’s a chance?” she asked. “A chance Florean might still be alive?”

"Of course there’s a chance,” said Jacob. “It doesn’t look good, of course, and not knowing what happened is awful...but at least we don’t know for sure Fortescue’s dead. There’s certainly no concrete proof of that just yet -- otherwise we’d all have heard it.”

Something in Mia’s shoulders seemed to loosen. She felt the tenseness ebbing away little by little, almost like timid little shivers, as the weight that had been crushing her chest seemed to lighten.

After facing down all of the naysayers who refused to give her any sliver of hope or encouragement, even if she was so desperate to find Florean, Jacob’s words were a relief Mia could hardly articulate. It was like just knowing one other person -- even someone as people-dumb and obnoxious as Jacob Cromwell -- didn’t think all hope was lost was a strong man taking the weight of the world off of her shoulders just enough that she could breathe right again.

“Everyone else seems to think it’s hopeless,” Mia found herself saying despite herself.

She was startled by how earnest her voice came out. It made her flinch, immediately regretting that she’d let Mr. People-Dumb himself, Jacob Cromwell, hear such vulnerability out of her. Jacob also seemed a bit taken aback by Mia’s tone of voice. Once he’d recovered, though, he answered more honestly.

“...Sure...but the amount of hope doesn’t really matter, does it?”

To Mia’s surprise, he offered a weak attempt at a smile.

“I mean...tons of folks thought I was dead, all those years, when I was really stuck in an enchanted portrait,” he pointed out. “If Pip hadn’t been so determined to look for me, regardless of what she might find...I’d probably still be there now.”

Mia blinked. As odd as Jacob’s connection to his own situation was, she had to admit, it made sense.

“I don’t think you should give up on Fortescue,” Jacob said, his face and voice hardening with a bizarre conviction. “Back then -- when I was stuck in that portrait...I felt helpless. But when I was able to reach Pip, through our Legilimency...just knowing that Pip knew I was trapped...knowing she was still looking for me, even after everything...that saved me. Even before she saved me for real...knowing she hadn’t given up on me...that had already saved me.”

The warm, sincere love in Jacob’s solemn voice was something even hard-headed Mia couldn’t minimize. The sincere vulnerability of the sentiment stunned her a bit.

Cromwell really does love his little sister, doesn’t he? she thought to herself. Mia couldn’t think of a time she’d ever spoken so warmly about Callie -- maybe Tia, since they’d always been closest of their siblings, or maybe her father, but even so...

Well, he should feel indebted to her, after all the grief he put her and their mother through, Mia stubbornly told herself.

She pushed any flicker of admiration she might’ve felt away uncomfortably, turning her focus back to the real task at hand: the one that was kindling a small fire inside of her chest.

Florean was missing. He was not dead, or at least, no one knew that for sure. And if he was alive, then that meant that everyone had given up on finding him except for Mia. Would Florean know no one was looking? Would he hope that they still would anyway, even though all hope seemed lost...?

A passage in one of Florean’s old letters returned to Mia’s mind.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so I’ve heard…let it be that, and not forgetful, dear Mia.

“...knowing she was still looking for me, even after everything...that saved me.”

Mia suddenly felt like her whole being had been set ablaze.

“I’m not going to give up on him,” she said, her voice harder and firmer than ever. “I’ll never give up -- not until I find him and bring him home.”

I’ll find you, Florean. Then I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you, damn your grandfather, damn whatever he might do or say --

Her narrowed eyes were as fiery as a salamander’s as her fist clenched around her wand.

“What do I have to do?”

Jacob’s skull-like eyes actually seemed to brighten, seeing the fierce determination in Mia’s features.

“Well, I think all of us will just have to keep our ears and eyes open, for the most part,” he said. “But the first thing we should figure out is what connected Ollivander and Fortescue. There has to be a reason why they specifically were taken.”

Mia considered this.

“Well, it wouldn’t be any kind of friendship,” she said slowly. “Not that Florean didn’t like Ollivander -- just about everyone I know likes the man -- but their relationship would’ve been formal, nothing close. They would’ve known each other just as neighbors.”

Jacob nodded, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling thoughtfully. “And Ollivander has never been open in regards to his politics, so it wouldn’t have been because he was speaking out against old Moldy Shorts, the way Fortescue was.”

"Then Florean couldn’t have been taken because of what he was writing!” Mia said. “If Ollivander and Florean were taken for the same reason...”

She could hardly articulate how much this knowledge comforted her. Perhaps it was the guilt she’d felt, after reading Silas Fortescue’s letter blaming “her influence” on Florean for his disappearance.

Jacob’s mouth spread into a smile too. “Right. Which leads back to the theory about Fortescue's interest in magical history.”

“Does Ollivander share that interest?” asked Mia.

“Not exactly,” said Jacob. “Old Garrick’s focus has always been wandlore, almost exclusively. Though he does also know a fair amount about the history of Christmas carols -- we spent a whole afternoon chatting about it once, while I was showing him the new wand I picked up State-side -- ”

He indicated the blackthorn wand in his right pocket brightly.

“ -- anyway, Ollivander’s got a bent for historical knowledge too, just in a very specific field. I can’t help but feel like that knowledge is a clue about why this happened.”

“Do you think that ‘why’ will then help us figure out where Florean is?” Mia prodded.

Jacob faltered.

“Well, it would help explain it all,” he attempted uncomfortably. “Getting a big picture of what’s going on always helps...if we can find out what old Morty’s really up to, and find a way to swat him down, that could put an an end to the whole thing -- ”

“We might not have time to do that,” Mia said sharply. “We have to find out where Florean is, and soon, if we’re going to help him. Ollivander too.”

Jacob frowned, but he seemed to concede the point.

“Their exact location might be harder to figure out,” he admitted. “I still think the ‘why’ could help us figure out the ‘where’...but I can’t say for sure it’ll fill in all the blanks...”

He looked at Mia seriously.

“Maybe what you can do for me is contact your sisters and see if you can figure out which Death Eaters were involved in taking Fortescue, that night.”

Mia’s eyebrows furrowed. “How would we determine that?”

“Well, for one, we know it has to be either people who escaped Azkaban during the big break-out or who weren’t caught the first time,” Jacob explained. “But it would also have to be people who weren’t caught in the Department of Mysteries, so Lucius Malfoy and his gang of stooges have an alibi. Callie has contacts in the WWN -- she’s heard interesting gossip before, including things that would normally be off-the-record...and from what Callie’s told me, your other sister’s married to a well-respected wizard in the Ministry who knows quite a few people. Not to mention you might hear interesting things, living in the most popular Wizarding village in Britain. Maybe then I’ll have some leads I can follow up on.”

Mia nodded decisively.

“All right -- I’ll find out what I can.”

“Groovy. And if I find out anything myself, I’ll send along a ‘book’ and let you know.”

“Good.”

Mia headed for the door. When she opened it, she paused, her hand still on the doorknob. Then, swallowing back the lump of discomfort in her throat, she turned to look at Jacob.

“...You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she asked very lowly.

“Huh?” said Jacob, confused.

“For thinking Florean’s still alive.”

Jacob frowned deeply. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Then you do think he’s alive?” Mia challenged him.

Jacob crossed his arms, his shoulders rising and falling in a faint shrug.

“I don’t know.”

Seeing the piercing, almost expectant look on Mia’s face, he fumbled to come up with a better response.

“I don’t! I mean, sure, logically, there’s not much to prove he’s still alive, and Fortescue’s not likely to do whatever old Morty wants, so there’d be less reason to keep him alive...but well, like I said, there’s nothing to prove he isn’t still alive, and lack of hope doesn’t mean fact. Miracles happen -- conspiracies happen -- even just strange things happen. And you shouldn’t just accept something because a lot of other people say it’s true -- not if there’s a chance they could be wrong.”

Jacob’s expression actually softened a bit.

“...Honestly...if you believe Fortescue’s alive, then I say you should fight for him. No matter what anyone else says! It’s like my mum says -- ‘sometimes your heart just knows what’s true.’”

Once again, Mia felt as though that weight that had been pushing down on her shoulders was coming up off her shoulders. It made her posture just that little bit straighter and her eyes that little bit less narrowed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she said, “but I think you’re right.”

She held the door open so Jacob could take it and then shut it behind them. As the two headed down the stairs and out of the Three Broomsticks, the curly-haired man was actually smiling.

“Hm...this is actually kind of cool.”

“What is?”

“Getting on with you!” he said with a broadening grin. “I feel like ever since I collided with you back before my NEWTs, all you’ve ever wanted to do is bite my head off.”

Mia gave a very loud scoff. “Trust me, the only reason I haven’t yet is because I’d probably choke on all that hair.”

This, however, only made Jacob laugh brightly.

#my writing #jacob cromwell #hermia flume #florean fortescue #silas fortescue #madame rosmerta #garrick ollivander #my art #yes back to this series!!#I do love seeing mia's shell crack a little bit to jacob even though she's still way too stubborn to acknowledge he's not so bad #but yeah for some reason I had this hankering to draw these two in my sketchbook #and I realize what I was drawing matched up was a moment in this incomplete drabble I had in my drafts!#so yeah good excuse to finish it #I really need to finish this series so as to better chronicle jacob's activities during the second wizarding war #and pave the road to his future post-War #<33

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obsidian-warthog · 9 months

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Pikmin 4 mid playthrough walkthrough

-Continued from my first demo save where I didn't even get the yellow onion or any leafling or blue onion, but did get Dingo. Decided to go ahead to the second area to see what it'd be like.

-Saw this area also had a yellow onion and made it my mission to get it. Ended up getting distracted by a side path for the other end of the map and needing a second day.

-AHHH OH OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK I FELL FOR A CREEPING CHRYSANTHUM?! Those guys haven't gotten the jump on me in years. Is that the same name as the flower enemies from 2? They look different but the name feels familiar.

-Between that and the cave with the mimics that had enemies dropping from the ceiling, my Pikmin 2 instincts were forcibly reawakened. Was proud of myself for spotting the electric spider under the treasure and using my captain to scout the whole surrounding area to trigger the other spider drops.

-The throwing reticle feels too sticky for large groups of enemies, like the skitter leafs. Can't believe skitter leafs actually felt like a threat instead of a little bump in the road, but there were so many of them in that one part of the cave wild blue Pikmin.

-Having to treat blue Pikmin as a limited resource was definitely a new experience.

-I feel like between the earlier acquisition and greater presence of water hazards on land the blues definitely got a much better deal here than 3. Hope they keep this up so flying Pikmin don't effectively cannibalize most of their role again.

-Liked the change in dialogue for getting Dingo before your first Leafling encounter. Also Dandori challenges are determined by order you do the caves, not the actual area, interesting.

-Got to the other side of lake opposite starting base and the one there, but ran out of time. Not liking the look of some of those flowers off to the side.

-Area 3 I went to the dandori battle off to the side and collected nearby treasure. Used a squad of reds to ascend the hill and defeat the cannon beetle because I didn't want to risk my blues or ice.

-The bonus item and mystery item mechanics make Dandori battles pretty interesting, also I can see the influence from bingo battle in those mechanics. Shame the mode has no online but I imagine it'd be more trouble than it's worth (wish we had a replayable mission mode though).

-Was so super hyped when the tide change mechanic got introduced, used it to build a bridge and pull the root just past the Dandori battle cave.

-With Oatchi in play that 100 weight item is nowhere near as frightening as Doomsday Apparatus. Definitely feels like buff and super buff is the path to go for Oatchi upgrades.

-Also getting into a better habit of using command level 3 to have Oatchi recall Pikmin and come back, that's valuable, but the idle recall item does steal a good amount of use, though I might be underestimating the safety of Oatchi rounding everyone up vs them all running on their own.

-Anyway after end of day I went back to the first area to get the blue onion. Was easy with a max squad size of fifty, didn't even need to use Oatchi.

-Rounded up the rest of the area as well as I could. Got into the top cave just as day was ending, where I found the doctor. Already noted castaways were based on order you got them rather than actual cave, but didn't realize story important ones were too.

-Had just enough time to set up the top base and push the bag down. Only missing two treasures for the first area right by it, already know how to get them from other demo file.

-And now I have the ability to do night expeditions, called it on the glow sap being needed to cure leaflings. Dingo is almost starting to give off Louie vibes with drinking the sap and abandoning Bernard.

-Really wish the base camp Pikmin sprouts would flower based on day rather than sitting around in camp. Leaving Pikmin to flower overnight is already heavily nerfed with the multiple bases. Makes the flowering side quest harder.

#Pikmin spoilers #Pikmin 4 spoilers #Pikmin 4

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muhammad-ubaidullah-khan · 2 years

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"On Destroying Books" By Sir John Collings Squire

"It says in the paper" that over two million volumes have been presented to the troops by the public. It would be interesting to inspect them. Most of them, no doubt, are quite ordinary and suitable; but it was publicly stated the other day that some people were sending the oddest things, such as magazines twenty years old, guides to the Lake District, Bradshaws, and back numbers of Whitaker's Almanack. It some cases, one imagines, such indigestibles get into the parcels by accident; but it is likely that there are those who jump at the opportunity of getting rid of books they don't want. Why have they kept them if they don't want them? But most people, especially non-bookish people, are very reluctant to throw away anything that looks like a book. In the most illiterate houses that one knows every worthless or ephemeral volume that is bought finds it way to a shelf and stays there. In reality it is not merely absurd to keep rubbish merely because it is printed: it is positively a public duty to destroy it. Destruction not merely makes more room for new books and saves one's heirs the trouble of sorting out the rubbish or storing it: it may also prevent posterity from making a fool of itself. We may be sure that if we do not burn, sink, or blast all the superseded editions of Bradshaw, two hundred years hence some collector will be specialising in old railway time-tables, gathering, at immense cost, a complete series, and ultimately leaving his "treasures" (as the Press will call them) to a Public Institution.

But it is not always easy to destroy books. They may not have as many lives as a cat, but they certainly die hard; and it is sometimes difficult to find a scaffold for them. This difficulty once brought me almost within the Shadow of the Rope. I was living in a small and (as Shakespeare would say) heaven-kissing flat in Chelsea, and books of inferior minor verse gradually accumulated there until at last I was faced with the alternative of either evicting the books or else leaving them in sole, undisturbed tenancy and taking rooms elsewhere for myself. Now, no one would have bought these books. I therefore had to throw them away or wipe them off the map altogether. But how? There were scores of them. I had no kitchen range, and I could not toast them on the gas-cooker or consume them leaf by leaf in my small study fire - for it is almost as hopeless to try to burn a book without opening it as to try to burn a piece of granite. I had no dust-bin; my debris went down a kind of flue behind the staircase, with small trap-doors opening to the landings. The difficulty with this was that the larger books might choke it; the authorities, in fact, had labelled it "Dust and Ashes Only"; and in any case I did not want to leave the books intact, and some dustman's unfortunate family to get a false idea of English poetry from them. So in the end I determined to do to them what so many people do to the kittens: tie them up and consign them to the river. I improvised a sack, stuffed the books into it, put it over my shoulder, and went down the stairs into the darkness.

It was nearly midnight as I stepped into the street. There was a cold nip in the air; the sky was full of stars; and the greenish-yellow lamps threw long gleams across the smooth, hard road. Few people were about; under the trees at the corner a Guardsman was bidding a robust goodnight to his girl, and here and there rang out the steps of solitary travellers making their way home across the bridge to Battersea. I turned up my overcoat collar, settled my sack comfortably across my shoulders, and strode off towards the little square glow of the coffee-stall which marked the near end of the bridge, whose sweeping iron girders were just visible against the dark sky behind. A few doors down I passed a policeman who was flashing his lantern on the catches of basement windows. He turned. I fancied he looked suspicious, and I trembled slightly. The thought occurred to me: "Perhaps he suspect I have swag in this sack." I was not seriously disturbed, as I knew that I could bear investigation, and that nobody would be suspected of having stolen such goods (though they were all first editions) as I was carrying. Nevertheless I could not help the slight unease which comes to all who are eyed suspiciously by the police, and to all who are detected in any deliberately furtive act, however harmless. He acquitted me, apparently; and, with a step that, making an effort, I prevented from growing more rapid, I walked on until I reached the Embankment.

I was then that all the implications of my act revealed themselves. I leaned against the parapet and looked down into the faintly luminous swirls of the river. Suddenly I heard a step near me; quite automatically I sprang back from the wall and began walking on with, I fervently hoped, an air of rumination and unconcern. The pedestrian came by me without looking at me. I was a tramp, who had other things to think about; and, calling myself an ass, I stopped again. "Now's for it," I thought; but just as I was preparing to cast my books upon the waters I heard another step - a slow and measured one. The next thought came like a blaze of terrible blue lightning across my brain: "What about the splash?" A man leaning at midnight over the Embankment wall: a sudden fling of his arms: a great splash in the water. Surely, and not without reason, whoever was within sight and hearing (and there always seemed to be some one near) would at once rush to me and seize me. In all probability they would think it was a baby. What on earth would be the good of telling a London constable that I had come out into the cold and stolen down alone to the river to get rid of a pack of poetry? I could almost hear his gruff, sneering laugh: "You tell that to the Marines, my son!"

So for I do not know how long I strayed up and down, increasingly fearful of being watched, summoning up my courage to take the plunge and quailing from it at the last moment. At last I did it. In the middle of Chelsea Bridge there are projecting circular bays with seats in them. In an agony of decision I left the Embankment and hastened straight for the first of these. When I reached it I knelt on the seat. Looking over, I hesitated again. But I had reached the turning-point. "What!" I thought savagely, "under the resolute mask that you show your friends is there really a shrinking and contemptible coward? If you fail now, you must never hold your head up again. Anyhow, what is you are hanged for it? Good God! You worm, better men than you have gone to the gallows!" With the courage of despair I took a heave. The sack dropped sheer. A vast splash. Then silence fell again. No one came. I turned home; and as I walked I thought a little sadly of all those books falling into that old torrent, settling slowly down through the pitchy dark, and subsiding at last on the ooze of the bottom, there to lie forlorn and forgotten whilst the unconscious world of men went on.

Horrible bad books, poor innocent books, you are lying there still; covered, perhaps, with mud by this time, with only a stray rag of your sacking sticking out of the slime into the opaque brown tides. Odes to Diana, Sonnets to Ethel, Dramas on the Love of Lancelot, Stanzas on a First Glimpse of Venice, you lie there in a living death, and your fate is perhaps worse than you deserved. I was harsh with you. I am sorry I did it. But even if I had kept you, I will certainly say this: I should not have sent you to the soldiers.

#On Destroying Books By Sir John Collings Squire #On Destroying Books #Sir John Collings Squire #humorous #humor #Funny #satire

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i-dreamed-i-had-a-son · 4 years

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Can I just say Bones does not get nearly enough credit for how well he reads people?? Like, we all forget that he is not only a doctor, he's a psychiatrist as well. And not only is he insanely good at reading Jim, we also see him read and understand Spock (who is his opposite and with whom he frequently disagrees) and push him when it's necessary. It's Bones' words that make some of the most powerful exchanges out of all the 79 original episodes. Here is proof (and there's a lot of it):

Balance of Terror

Jim's doubting himself and is dealing with a lot of stress because of all his responsibilities and the burden of making decisions, and asks Bones, "What if I'm wrong?" This is an incredibly vulnerable moment for Jim, who always has to be strong, and when Bones starts to answer, Jim gets up and says "I wasn't really expecting an answer."

Bones immediately puts his hand on his shoulder, stops him, and says, "Well, I've got one." Completely unexpected by Jim. Bones starts off by saying "This isn't something I'd usually tell a customer," then gives the speech we all probably know, about how there are millions of possible earth-like planets, "but in all of that, and possibly more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Kirk."

Let's break down why this is so good. First, Bones lets Jim know that he sees how vulnerable Jim is being and that he's talking to Jim as a friend. He recognizes that Jim's identity is fundamentally tied to his role as a captain, and also acknowledges how deep Jim's doubts are going, and at the same time reminds Jim that he is the one in control of himself (something very grounding for Jim) and he is not alone (because Bones is supporting him). Most of all, he doesn't dwell on the vulnerability Jim's expressing, but encourages him to take action, which is Jim's natural bent. He perfectly adapts to how Jim functions and knows what to say to get him back into a place where he can do what he does best: lead.

The Ultimate Computer

Jim has been been feeling insecure and threatened this entire episode, because a computer may take away his role as captain. Twice he seeks out Bones for comfort. First, he tells him that he has concerns about the computer, but worries about his motives. "You have my psychological profiles; am I afraid? Of losing my job? ...Daystrom's right, I could do a lot of other things. Am I afraid of losing the power, the prestige? Am I that petty?"

Bones replies, "Jim, if you're self-aware enough to ask that question, you don't need me to answer it for you. Why don't you ask James T. Kirk? He's a pretty honest guy."

Breakdown: Bones responds beautifully by once again reminding Jim that he knows himself and is in control. That sense of confidence is all Jim is after. He also establishes earlier in the conversation that what Jim is feeling is not unusual and can be understood. Brilliant.

The second time Jim reaches out to Bones (this episode is my favorite for a reason), he's doubting his role even more intensely, having just been blatantly insulted and called useless (affirming his insecurities). He left the bridge, silently, by himself, and even Spock didn't follow him out. Bones knew he needed help and went to him, with some drinks (Jim initially responds that he's not interested in eating--coping by losing interest in food) and a joke and light-hearted attitude, so that Jim can feel comfortable expressing himself. Jim puts on an air of not caring (shutting himself off from his emotions) and says he's never felt so useless, and makes a cynical joke as a toast, "To Captain Dunsel" (the insult from earlier, meaning "unnecessary").

Bones stops him, looks him in the eye, and says "To James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise." Jim says softly, "Thank you, Doctor," and when he downs his glass, Bones follows suit.

There's just so much good about this. Bones seeks him out even when he was trying to isolate himself because he knew Jim tends to distract himself and unhealthily repress things. And he doesn't let Jim get away with being blasé about how he's been hurt, but he doesn't force him to be honest either; instead, he lets Jim know he sees how he's feeling and how deeply he's hurt, and also reaffirms that Bones still cares about, respects, and most of all, believes in him. When Jim starts talking after the drink, Bones just listens and lets him talk, and when Jim responds to the call to the bridge, he follows him out. Back in action, and another job well done.

The Trouble With Tribbles

Just a brief point with this: Spock is just being silent here, which is typical for him. But Bones asks him "What's the matter, Spock?" seemingly out of the blue. Spock responds with, "There's something disquieting about these creatures," which means that he was feeling off, and Bones picked up on it. Bones then makes a joke ("Don't tell me you've got a feeling!") which lets Spock know that Bones sees what he's saying but isn't treating it as unusual (since the joking between them is their normal behavior). And when Spock continues talking, he hears him out (although it eventually degenerates into their typical spat).

All Our Yesterdays

Spock has begun degenerating into a pre-reformed-Vulcan version of himself. He gives up on trying to get back to their proper time and becomes irritable. Bones notices that something's wrong almost immediately.

He starts by asking about Jim (because he knows how deeply Spock cares for him), and Spock responds apathetically. This clearly shocks Bones, who then says "I don't believe it, Spock. It's just not like you to give up trying." When Spock doesn't acknowledge something's off, Bones presses him: "I understand. I never thought I'd see it, but I understand. You want to stay here. In fact, you're highly motivated to stay in this forsaken waste!" Spock deflects again, and Bones keeps pressing, which leads to Spock grabbing him by the neck and saying angrily, "I don't like that. I don't think I ever did, and now I'm sure." Bones simply looks him in the eye and asks calmly, "What's happening to you, Spock?"

Instead of hassling Spock about why he isn't doing more, he focuses on what's wrong with Spock himself, and he clearly has a deep understanding of who Spock really is. He starts by trying to get a feel for Spock's emotional state by going to ground 0: Jim. And he doesn't back down when Spock tries to blow him off.

Seeing that he's getting nowhere, Bones bides his time, and then starts something with Zarabeth, knowing Spock will jump to her defense.

When Spock pins him against the wall, Bones calmly says, "Are you trying to kill me, Spock? Is that what you really want? Think! What are you feeling? Rage, jealousy--have you ever had those feelings before?" Spock is clearly affected by this, and says it's impossible, since he's a Vulcan. Bones sees his opening, saying "The Vulcan you knew won't exist for another 5000 years! Think, man! What's happening on your planet right now, at this very moment?" Spock answers with the facts, and Bones tells him flat-out what's going on: he's reverting. Spock falls quiet, and says, "I've lost myself. I do not know who I am."

Bones is specifically structuring his responses (both here and earlier) to cause Spock to evaluate himself--to think, which has always has grounded Spock. Bones indirectly (so that Spock doesn't feel as threatened by the accusation) indicates that Spock's being too emotional. He wants Spock to see for himself that something's wrong, so Bones asks questions or makes open-ended statements so that Spock will have to respond. He also provides enough evidence (pointing out the emotions Spock is feeling) to prove he has a point and guide Spock towards a conclusion. He's talking Spock through it, using reason and logic, which Spock has always responded to. Bones' questions are also phrased so that the answers are objective facts--he's bringing Spock back to the verifiable, Spock's comfort zone. Finally, he does the analysis for Spock, telling him what's undeniably happening, but leaves the course of action open to Spock, so that he can regain control of himself by deciding how to proceed. Bones smoothly and logically guided Spock to the delicate realization he needed to have.

Of Bread and Circuses

Then of course we have this iconic exchange. Jim's been separated from the both of them and they are all in danger. Spock is pulling at the bars although he knows it will be futile.

Bones calls him out on this, and then thanks him for saving his life. When Spock brushes him off and keeps his walls up, Bones says, "I know why you're not afraid to die, Spock. You're more afraid of living. Every day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip--and let your human half peek out." Spock is silent and looks away, and Bones continues, now smiling slightly: "That's it, isn't it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling." His face makes it clear he's gently baiting Spock, who then looks back at Bones and says, "Really, Doctor?" Bones replies softly, "I know. I'm worried about Jim, too."

First thing: Spock's theme starts playing when Bones corners him. So we're supposed to get that Bones is really laying him bare. But starting from the beginning of the scene, Bones recognizes Spock's anxiety through his illogical behavior. He takes the time to thank Spock for saving his life, in an effort to remind Spock that he is competent and in control--basically, trying to calm Spock down and reassure him. When Spock refuses to deal with his emotions productively, Bones is having none of it, and shows Spock just how much he knows. He can tell Spock isn't worried for himself ("you're not afraid to die") but also is well aware of Spock's actual fears (which are coloring his current behavior towards Bones). Basically, Bones is saying, "this facade of yours can't keep me out. You're understood. You're not alone." Saying it in those terms, though, would just make Spock feel weak for unsuccessfully trying to mask his behavior, so Bones frames it as a gentle challenge. When Spock looks away, he can tell he's hit the nail on the head, and he smiles because he's getting through to him. His face as he says "you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling" telegraphs to the audience that he's not actually serious, but is looking for a response. And he gets it--Spock acknowledges, as Bones had intended, that he is currently dealing with emotions. And that's where Bones wanted to get him, because now that he's admitted it, he can move forward; but Bones doesn't want this admission to go unrewarded, and definitely doesn't want Spock to go on believing that Bones meant what he'd said about not knowing what to do with feelings, so he again tells Spock that he understands what's really going on, but without challenge this time. He just accepts it and reassures Spock that he's not alone: "I know. I'm worried about Jim too." They're in it together, and now that Spock is a little more vulnerable, he's able to see that Bones is right beside him.

So that was a lot, but there is definitely even more. Basically, give Bones the appreciation he deserves, because his emotional intuition is off the charts. (After all, as he is so fond of reminding us, he is a doctor!)

#star trek #star trek tos #spock #jim kirk #bones mccoy #bones #meta #my meta posts #quality meta seal of approval #photoset #kay can i just catch my breath for a second #kay watches tos #1k #this post will be quiet for a while and then suddenly pick up like 200 notes at a time and it makes me really happy to see 😂😂

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birdbrain90 · 3 years

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Raindrops on Roses - A Sylki Fanfic

@swinging-stars-from-satellites (DAMMIT I told you it would make me write Sylki fic xD . This is what I came up with. I didn't do that "I end up in your bed" prompt correctly at ALL, but creative liberties are a thing. This is what I tell myself. It's not TERRIBLE for a 24 hour fic, at any rate. LOL) BASED ON THIS TROPE/PROMPT - "there were two beds but in the middle of the night, you still slip into mine and i don’t complain because you’re sick with a cold/fever because we were running away from the authorities last night and it was pouring rain, and i wake up the next morning and we’re not cuddling or anything, although i wish we were, but we’re facing each other and oh my god, you’re still asleep and i can see every strand of disheveled hair, every freckle, every eyelash, every single detail of your face, illuminated by the 6 am sunrise from the molding motel window behind you, is this love?" The rain hadn't ceased all day, and they wondered if it ever would. Loki and Sylvie had been running all morning and afternoon, trying to cover as much ground as possible before their next jump. They had taken to apocalypse hopping, because two Lokis, separate entities fulfilling the same cosmic role, could not exist together on the timeline. Neither of them found themselves satisfied with that answer, so they ran, and ran, and ran some more.

This time though, neither was alone. It had become fun for both of them, ducking and dodging order while chaos ensued around them. It wasn't much of a permanent life, but it fit somehow.

Finally they came upon a motel. It didn't take long for Sylvie to enchant the receptionist, procuring a room for the night.

"Some day you will have to teach me how to do it." Muttered Loki as he peeled his sopping wet jacket off.

"It's freezing. This weather is absolute shit." Looking like a drowned rat indeed, Loki smiled and waved his wrist, conjuring sleeping clothes for both of them. "Thanks. I'm going to take a shower."

There was an odd pause before she left. She wanted to ask if he wanted to join, and he wanted to ask if she wanted company. Neither had the courage, so the moment was lost on both.

When Sylvie emerged from the shower, her cheeks were blazing red. She flopped down on her bed, looking over at Loki who laid on his bed reading a book.

"My turn?" He muttered, not looking up from the pages. Eventually he got up and headed to do the same thing. When he also emerged clean and dry, he spied Sylvie asleep on her bed. Smiling, he raised his hands, grunting a little as a green glow lit his hands, and an unseen force lifted her into the air, while the same force prepared her bed, tucking her gently into it. "Goodnight, Sylvie darling." He smiled, secretly terrified that she might hear that last part.

Sylvie awoke some time later, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. She was...cold? That was unusual enough on its own. Every movement seemed to make her colder. She sat up and looked over at Loki, sound asleep in the bed next to hers. He didn't seem to be in any sort of distress. There was no way someone as sturdy as her would fall ill, but that's certainly how she felt. Maybe it was from being soaking wet all day…

Sylvie continued shivering in bed, debating going and taking another shower when something disrupted her thoughts.

"Sylvie…" came a whisper from the bed next to her. She rolled over and stood, throwing her shivering legs over the side of the bed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can’t sleep.” When she received no response, she stood and padded over to his bed. He was very clearly still sleeping. Why was he whispering her name in his sleep? “Loki…?” She called.

“Hmm?” Came his groggy reply. His eyes didn’t open, and she honestly wondered whether the oaf was even conscious or not.

“Loki I’m freezing. I can’t sleep. I dunno what’s wrong.” She shivered, immediately missing her blankets.

Loki said nothing, and his eyes still did not open. He took a sharp breath in through his nose, and clumsily peeled back the blanket, wordlessly inviting her into his bed. Sylvie faltered, not knowing what to think, but also not wanting to wait long enough for him to actually wake up and see her embarrassment if he was indeed still sleeping. Slowly, she climbed into the bed next to him and pulled the covers back up over herself. Immediately she was greeted with the smell of his skin. Sweet and spicy all at once. She was frustrated by how intoxicating it all was.

They’d grown close over the time they’d been running, but they were both too cripplingly shy to make any sort of advance. Sylvie didn’t understand it at all. She was no stranger to seducing in order to get what she wanted. Information, a drink or ten, relief from needs, it all came easily to her. Yet somehow here, in front of this beautiful man who had stolen her heart, it was way too real, and she felt reduced to a stuttering teenager. She huffed, rolling away from him in an attempt to forget his sleeping face. She had also completely forgotten the fact that she had been shivering from head to toe just minutes prior. Her quaking had ceased, in favor of warm, restful sleep.

The word “cozy” wasn’t a word Loki normally included in his vocabulary. He’d grown up surrounded by princely comforts, with more brought to him if only he asked. But cozy? That was a new one, and when he awoke the following morning it was certainly at the forefront of his mind. He hummed, stretching lazily and extending his arm. His entire body stiffened in fear when his arm rested on top of something soft and curvy. His breath halted in his throat, and he feared he might choke on it as his eyelids flew open to reveal Sylvie sleeping peacefully next to him. His eyes darted under the blanket, relieved and somehow disappointed at the same time when he saw they were both still clothed. When had she moved into his bed? He certainly remembered falling asleep separately last night. Having to consciously breathe in and out, he tried to relieve himself of some of the rigidity in his body, save for the painfully obvious spot.

Shaking his head, he steeled his nerves. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d been reduced to a terrified teenager. He looked over at the woman lying near him, his mouth falling open in quiet reverence when a sunbeam poked through the window and illuminated her face. Every gentle crease in her face, the swell of her lips, the long lashes that concealed the eyes he found himself staring into for way too long, it was all too much. He gasped, averting his eyes for fear his heart would leap right out of his chest. He stiffened again when he felt her shift, inching barely closer to him. He wanted to reach out and caress her face, the fear of waking her and ruining this moment overpowering his desires in that moment.

Loki wasn’t sure how long he had laid there, attempting to commit her sleeping face to memory. Her face while she was awake was its own kind of beautiful. He loved the way her nose would scrunch up at certain jokes, the way she would roll her eyes at him throughout the day. When they would get into trouble, her almost inhuman snarl set his blood aflame. He felt he could do anything while the heat of her battle rage encompassed him. Sleeping, though, she was completely different. Her face was peaceful, something he suspected she hadn’t had much of while she was awake. That thought, combined with the tranquility of the moment brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to give her a life of peace. Of stability. But he feared they might never get that chance.

Sniffling quietly, he decided to damn the consequences, and he reached out and brought a hand to her cheek. She did not move under his ghostly touch. He drew his thumb down the bridge of her nose, gliding it under her eyes, memorizing every hill and valley on her face. Moving a bit closer to her, he continued, his desire for her to know how he felt only increasing with physical contact. He removed his hand from her face, sliding it down her arm and eventually resting on her hip. Loki would never be able to explain where his sudden hubris came from, but he decided he would risk the angry palm that would surely fly at his face before too long. Butterfly kisses. Feather light touches of his lips that he was sure would wake her when she felt his quivering breaths on her face. He began at her forehead, kissing as much of her face as he could cover, before finally resting on her lips. He lingered there a bit longer, savoring the feeling. They had kissed before, in the citadel, and hadn’t seemed to find time for it since. He had been able to sneak a kiss on her cheek, or her knuckles every so often, but they hadn’t been able to find time to lay together and explore each other properly.

His heart bounced into his throat when he saw her eyelids bunch up, and finally flutter open. As soon as they did, she gasped and lurched backward.

“Loki! I-I… Uh….”

“Shh…” He crooned, stretching his hand out. “It’s okay. It’s only me, after all.”

“I-I… I was really cold last night. You pulled back the blanket so I… I just…”

“I have no memory of that.” He chuckled, before his face dissolved into concern. “But you? Cold? Are you okay?” He reached out a hand, pressing the back of it to her forehead. He shrugged, feeling no difference in her normal temperature. “You feel okay now. Likely from being out in the rain all day.

“Yeah…” She laid back down, still facing him. Loki followed suit, letting his head hit the pillow once more. They stared awkwardly for a while, fumbling around in their own heads and letting their cheeks darken several shades before someone spoke again. It was Sylvie who spoke first, looking down and counting the wrinkles in the sheets. Anything but meeting his eyes. “Loki…?”

“Yes?”

“We’re in a bed.” Oh that was dumb. Of all the things she’d ever said in her life, that had to be the dumbest.

“Okay? Yes. Yes we are.” She heard him chuckle, ending with a snort that made her want to reach out and smack him. “Brilliant observation, darling.” That word slipped out, and she saw fear creep into his eyes for a brief moment. What he didn’t know is how that one word flipped her stomach and filled it with butterflies.

“Idiot. That’s not what I mean. I mean…” What did she mean? She had no idea. “I want…”

“Yes…?”

“I want it to be like this. Just like this. Default. You and me.” The shit eating grin had not left his face, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to jump on him and strangle it off, or kiss it off. Maybe both. She wondered if he’d be into both.

“Of course. Next time, enchant the receptionist into giving us a key to a room with only one bed.” He laughed, grunting as she finally decided to reach out and shove his chest. He did notice, however, that after she was done shoving him, her hand lingered. He took the opportunity to place his hand over hers, urging her to feel the heart that beat only for her. “I’m teasing you. No need to get violent.” He smiled, his face melting into lovesickness. “I would love nothing more than to wake up with you in my arms every morning, wherever we are, at the end of a thousand worlds I only want to feel your skin and your heart entwined with mine. I lo-....” He froze, the phrase that threatened to leave his lips and the possibility that she might reject it cooled the flame in his gut. “Wh-what I mean to say is I…Um….Y-you see, I’ve thought about this quite a bit... I-I lov-...” He sighed, frustrated. “Can I just kiss you instead? Words are hard when they’re all for you.”

She nodded. His heart sang at her quiet acceptance as he joined his lips with hers. Eventually as their clothing began to fall away piece by piece, the drab motel around them became a luminous place of worship. The world could have ended around them and neither would have cared. This was enough, it was glorious, and it was all their own. Whatever came their way, they’d figure it out somehow, and they’d figure it out together. (This will be cross posted on my Archive of our Own account, Wonderchild90. So if you happen to see it there, that's me! It's not stolen. Oh but also if you enjoy sickening fanfics for these two dumb demigods, come have a look! Shameless self plugging. LOL.)

#pro sylki #sylvie x loki #love is a dagger #loki 2021 #lovedaggers

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maddiwrites · 3 years

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Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Pogues x OC, Eventually JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Changed my update schedule to two times a week (probably Sunday and Wednesdays) because three days was kind of overwhelming hahah. Again, thank you for all the wonderful reviews and feedback!! I appreciate every single one!!!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Being shot at?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

The Pogues come over later to hang out like usual. No one mentions last night's party. I don't know whether its because they don't want to talk about it or we're pretending like it never happened. I'm fine with either.

I sit next to Kie who taps her fingers on a bongo and bobs her head to her own beat. Pope's shuffling a deck of cards to my right and JJ sips on another beer across from me. It's hard to concentrate on what they're talking about. I'm too busy locked in my own head, thinking about what Peterkin said - foster care - what life would be like if we were taken away. Would I ever see my friends again? Would John B and I be in the same foster home? The thought of being separated makes me sick.

"Look, I'm calling it off. All right?" John B pulls me out of my thoughts. JJ rolls his eyes at my brother and glances at me. "Peterkin said if we stay out of the marsh, she'll help us with DCS."

"And you believed her?" JJ asks. "An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop."

John B sighs. "All I gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days, and she'll help me out. It doesn't help that your ass was the one shooting a gun."

Here we go.

"You know what I should have done? Just let Topper drown your ass."

"Topper was gonna drown me?"

"Sure looked like it."

"Funny," John B deadpans.

"Have you looked in a mirror?"

"Tell me some more. Come on." I can tell by the look on John B's face that he's getting annoyed. It's pinched and he keeps rolling his eyes.

JJ steps closer to him. "They always win, don't they, man? Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win!" He turns around and punches one of the small volleyballs we have tied in a string like a decoration.

"Look, it's okay!" Kie tries to calm him down.

"No, it's not okay! It's not! They don't want us to go down into the marsh." JJ comes back. "That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it." He turns to me and points. "I know you do." Then he looks at Pope. "I know you do. And I understand why you don't wanna go. You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk. And you -" He turns to Kie. "I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother? But you and me, and Marleigh, man, we got nothing to lose! We really don't all right?"

"JJ -" I sigh.

"And I know it didn't use to be that way for you -"

John B shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about it!"

"So that's it?"

John B shoves past JJ. "Just get out of my way, bro."

"John B, listen to me. I have a plan." Well thats never good. "You got the key to Cameron's big boat right?"

"No," John B says, already knowing where JJ's head is at.

"There's scuba gear. We borrow that, and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon, and that is what's gonna save you, man. You don't see rich kids going into foster care, do you?"

Here's the thing about JJ. He can be really convincing, which is usually the reason he and I get into the most trouble. Because I always fall for what he's saying. He gives me hope when I don't think there is any. He can be surprisingly optimistic sometimes. And when he is, I fall for his charm and agree with everything he says. If he told me to jump off a bridge, I probably would.

When he looks at me, my lips tug upwards into a smile. This creates a domino effect, and soon the other Pogues get excited. John B looks at me, trying to look disapproving but I shrug in response. I mean, JJ's right. What do we have to lose?

~ ~ ~

I light a match and ignite my gas stove to make myself lunch. A can of chicken noodle soup that's been in my food closet for who knows how long. John B left to grab the tanks from the Cameron's boat, so the rest of us are waiting here until he comes to pick us up.

"You're eating soup? Its like a hundred degrees outside." JJ walks into the kitchen and lifts himself up on the counter next to the stove.

I stir the liquid around with a wooden spoon and smirk. "Do you see any other edible food around here?" JJ chuckles at that. He knows better than anyone how horrible John B and I are at food shopping. "I meant to go to the store today but..." I sigh. "I've been busy."

JJ pauses, causing me to look up at him. He's usually so quick with his wit and humor. Something I admire and love about him. How he always manages to put a smile on my face with some dumb remark or a sarcastic reply. Only now he's staring at me with curiosity. "Are you okay?"

"You mean other than the impending doom that is foster care that's going to hit me and John B in the near future?" I say sarcastically. I turn the stove off and grab two bowls out of the cabinet behind JJ's head. He ducks for me and my waist presses against his thigh. I pour half the soup in each bowl and hand him one with a spoon.

"Yeah, I mean other than that," JJ says. I blow on the liquid on my spoon to cool it down. The steam that comes up from my bowl already makes me feel hot.

"I'm fine," I tell him.

He gives me a look that says he's doesn't believe me, but I ignore it and he doesn't press me on it. Truth is, I am fine. I just have a lot of my mind but I'm going to do my best not to let it ruin my summer. JJ got me excited again. He's promising an adventure and possibly a fortune. He's right. John B and I have nothing to lose. If we don't go on the marsh today, DCS will find another reason to snatch us. So why hold ourselves back?

"Mar, JJ, he's back!" Kie calls out to us from my yard.

JJ sips the last of his broth out of the bowl and I shovel in the last couple of scoops into my mouth. We throw the bowls in the sink and run to the dock where John B and the others are waiting for us.

Pope directs John B to the part of the marsh where we found the wreck. I sit next to Kie in the front of the boat. She's looking at the two tanks that John B was able to snag off the Cameron's boat. Her brows are furrowed in confusion as she studies the gear.

"This is empty," Kie says, looking up at my brother who stops the boat when we find the sunken Grady-White. "You took empty tanks?"

"I..." John B says slowly. He definitely didn't look at it before he took it.

"Okay, this one's a quarter full," Kie says, pulling the tank to her left closer to her. "Its enough for one of us."

"Love it when a plan comes together," I say sarcastically and pass a look to JJ who rolls his eyes.

"Does anybody know how to dive?" Kie asks.

I purse my lips and look around at my friends and brother. None of them speak up.

"Uh..."

"Anybody?" Kie asks.

"It's kind of a Kook sport," I say.

Pope raises his hand. "I...read about it."

"Great, Pope read about it so someone's gonna die," Kie says.

JJ walks towards us and picks up the mouth piece and shrugs his shoulders. "Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?"

Pope answers, "If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends."

JJ glances between Pope and the rest of us. "Bends like..." JJ bends forward, purposely sticking his butt out, "bend over and..."

Pope cuts him off. "The bends kill you."

JJ snaps straight up. "Right."

I roll my eyes and stand up. "I'll do it."

"Uh, I don't think..." JJ starts to say but my brother cuts him off.

"No. I'll do it."

"What, why?" I turn to my brother and send him a glare.

"Because Pope just said it can kill you and you don't listen to instructions very well." My brother glares back at me. I roll my eyes. He does have a point and evidence to prove it. I usually follow my own gut and ignore others' directions. And because I don't want him to bring up past events, I decide not to fight him on it.

"He has a point," JJ says, earning a punch in the bicep from me. He looks at my brother. "You can dive. I'm cool with that."

"Since when can you dive?" Kie says not liking the idea any more than me.

He shrugs. "I'll do it. It's fine."

"Let me do some calculations real quick," Pope says as John B starts putting on the scuba gear.

"You serious?" JJ asks.

"That boat's about thirty feet down. Okay? So it'll take twenty five minutes at that depth. Twenty five. Which means you need to make your safety stop at about...ten feet."

Contrary to popular belief, I do the actual listening to instructions, I just don't always follow through. But I process everything Pope just said and think of a way to make this easier for John B.

I shimmy out of my jean shorts and pull my top over my head, leaving me in a purple and white striped bikini. Without saying anything, I jump into the water with my shirt.

"Uh..." Pope says, looking into the water where I just disappeared. "What was that about?"

"I don't know. But I liked it. A lot," JJ says, staring at the same spot. John B slaps the back JJ's head and glares daggers in his direction. JJ pretends to clear his throat and turns away from John B. "Uh, so..."

Pope pretends to focus on his calculations again, not wanting to get caught by John B for staring at his sister too. "Yeah. Uh, when you uh, when you're down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?"

I guesstimate how deep ten feet is and tie my shirt around the chain attached to our anchor. I look one last time at the blurry image of the sunken boat and pull myself back up.

"Hey," I say to grab their attention. They all look at me. "I tied my T-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down. It's where you need to do your safety stop."

John B nods. "Cool."

I stay in the water, loving how the water feels around me like a protective blanket. I listen to Pope explain the important parts of diving. There's some kind of meter he has to pay attention to to keep track of time.

"Okay, how much do I need?" John B asks.

"Unclear," Pope answers. "Breathe as little as possible."

JJ slaps John B on the shoulder. "Zen. Think zen, you know?"

John B turns to the water, preparing to jump in next to me. "Yeah. Got it."

"Hey," Pope says, stopping him. "If we get caught in the marsh, we're basically screwed, so better get a move on."

"No pressure or anything," I add.

"Copy that," John B says.

Kie approaches my brother and stands in front of him. She's really close to him, almost inches away from his face. Then she leans in and kisses his cheek slowly. Way more intimate than usual. My eyes widen in surprise and I look at Pope and JJ to see their reaction. They mirror mine.

"Diver down?" Kie says softly.

"Diver down." John B says just as softly.

"See ya, dude," JJ says.

John B jumps in the water and sinks down below me. I lay on my back in the water and bathe in the warmth of the sun above me. I even close my eyes, letting relaxation overcome me. I could probably sleep here if I wanted too.

"Shit, JJ," Pope curses, catching my attention.

"Guys, that's the police," Kie says.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," JJ says, glancing at me.

My eyes go wide with anxiety. I swim closer to the boat and look up at JJ. "JJ, they can't know I'm here. If they find me-"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's gonna be okay. They're not going to, just stay there."

I nod and press myself tighter against the boat.

"Just act freaking normal," Kie says through clenched teeth.

I can hear the sirens coming closer until I feel their boat bump against ours. I flinch against it and kick my feet faster to stay afloat. I look down at the water, but I can't see John B. My heart races at the thought of him running out of air.

"Evening," I hear one of the cops greet my friends.

"JJ, tie it off," Pope says.

"How you kids doing? You know the marsh is closed?" The officer asks them.

"No."

"No. Wow."

My friends play dumb. I look up, finding comfort in seeing JJ's long hair. I can tell he's trying hard not to look down at me.

"Why - why is it closed?" Pope asks.

"Well, we're conducting a search out here. Boat went down." The officer explains.

"Oh."

"See anything?"

"No." JJ purses his lips and shrugs.

"No boats," Kie says. "No."

There's a pause and for a split second I think he's gonna call their bluff. But he doesn't. "Where are the other two kids you always hang with? The twins? They here?"

I bite my bottom lip hard in anticipation for what's to come. He knows we're here. He has to. I can tell by how suspicious he sounds. I look back down in the water, John B still invisible to me. I don't know how much time he has left, but he's definitely running out of it.

"They both had to work," I hear Kie answer.

"Hm," The officer hums. "I'm gonna check your little boat out."

Shit, shit, shit, shit. I look around for a place to hide, but the only thing surrounding me is water. I'm going to have to go under.

"Yeah." JJ coughs, risking one last look at me before pretending to help the officer into the boat. "Yeah, hop aboard."

I push myself under the water and swim directly underneath the boat. I open my eyes, ignoring the sting of the salt water. I can see John B's silhouette by my T-shirt and the blurry light of his timer.

Thirty more seconds pass. I swing my arms upwards, pushing myself deeper into the water. The shadow of the cops' boat is still next to ours. My lungs are screaming at me for for air like they're tearing into my chest. Just like John B, I don't know how long I'm going to be able to last down here.

My body reactively gulps for air, forcing myself to swallow the salt water. It feels like a stab in my chest, my throat on fire. I've got to pop back up to the surface or I'm going to drown.

Just as I'm about to reveal myself, the shadow of the boat drives off. I push myself up, coughing up the water I swallowed and gasping for air. Less than a second later, John B pops up next to me.

"Oh, god! Jesus Christ," Kie says with her eyes closed and her head looking up.

"Don't scare us like that!" Pope says.

JJ watches me instead of John B, concern laced into his features. As I feel my heart go back to its normal pace, I smile at him and laugh the anxiety off. "You good?" He asks me. I nod and let him help me back up to the boat. "How'd it go down there?" He asks my brother. "Did you find anything?"

"Did I find anything?" John B scoffs and holds up a dark velvet bag.

"Yeah, there we go!" JJ claps his shoulders. "That's my boy!"

"Jeez, dude," Pope sighs.

"You okay?" Kie asks John B.

John B pants as he swims closer to the boat. "Yeah, I ran out of air."

"You and me both," I tell him.

John B pulls himself up. When he stands, he's met face to face with Kie who shoves him back playfully. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, the cops were up here, but, uh...we took care of 'em." Pope says, trying to act like he wasn't going to piss his pants the entire time he was talking to them.

"My bad," John B laughs.

"You're all good."

"Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother," JJ says.

I move to the back of the boat to ring my wet hair out when something catches me eye. Its another boat, but it doesn't look like the one the cops were just using.

"Hey, guys? Guys!" I call louder to grab their attention. "Bogey, two o'clock."

"What?" JJ comes up next to me and eyes the boat that's making its way closer to us.

"Do you recognize the boat?" Pope asks.

"I've never seen it," I answer.

A bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I can make out two people, I think men, standing in the front. They keep their eyes straight on us. No laughing or talking like a couple of buds would on a boat day in the marsh.

"What are they doing here? The marsh is closed," Kie says.

"Let's not stick around and find out." JJ places his hands on my bare waist and pulls me to the side so he can pull up the anchor.

"JJ get the bowline," John B says, not realizing that JJ was already on it.

"Yeah."

"Should we wait on 'em?" Pope asks.

"No. No. We should leave now. Right now," Kie says, looking directly at John B.

"Go get the stern," John B tells me. "Go!"

I kneel next to JJ and help him. Similar to how I felt in the water, my heart beats violently against my chest and my breathing becomes static. I try not to think of the fear that creeps through my veins as I help release the boat from it's hold in the marsh.

"Guys, don't wait for us! Go!" JJ yells.

"Go!" Kie says.

"Pull out the stern!" Pope yells at us.

I yank the chain hard, revealing the slimy anchor covered in seaweed and moss.

"I don't like this," I mutter to JJ between clenched teeth.

John B pulls away from the wreck. JJ looks between me and the boat that still driving in our direction. "Are they coming for us?"

"Maybe they're fishing," Pope says.

"Go, go, go, go!"

"Go into the marsh," I tell my brother, constantly glancing between him and the other boat.

"Let's go," Kie says. I can hear fear creep into her voice and her hands shake around the drivers seat she's holding with a death grip.

"I'm going. Act natural!" John B hisses and revs the engine of the boat.

He takes a left turn into the marsh. I watch anxiously for the people in the other boat to make its move.

They turn left.

"Guys, they're following us!" Kie says.

"This can't be good," Pope says.

"Dude, you gotta go faster!" JJ says.

"I'm going!" John B yells back.

"Gun it!"

I look behind the boat. They're getting closer. Too close. Can't say I'm surprised. The HMS Pogue is no match for their boat that looks more expensive than my house. However, something catches my eye. Something long the guy in the passenger seat is holding and pointing right at us.

"Is that..." I mutter before I'm cut off by exactly what I was going to say.

The gun shot rings through my ears as if the person who shot it was standing next to me. Before I can react, JJ pulls me down to the floor of our boat by my waist and covers me with his own body. I gotta say, this isn't how I pictured him being on top of me. His left arm outlines my head, keeping me face down while other bullets pass our boat. The cries of my friends are dull through the blood pounding in my ears and my heart inching its way up my throat.

"Holy shit!" Kie shouts.

"John B, get down!" JJ yells.

I try looking up at my brother but JJ's hold is strong. John B's still behind the wheel, trying his best to duck from bullets without crashing the boat.

"We're gonna die!" Pope yells.

I try looking around the boat for anything we can use against these guys. Of course JJ decides to leave the gun he stole at my house for the day, leaving us practically useless against these two strangers.

My eyes find a net pooling in front of Kie's face as she keeps her head down. I try crawling out of JJ's embrace which only makes him tighten his arms around me.

"Kie!" I shout. She looks up at me with wide eyes. "The net!"

Immediately she understands what I'm trying to tell her. She pulls herself away from Pope and army crawls to the wide net. This only makes my friends yell at her, telling her to get down, but she doesn't listen.

"Get down, Kie!" John B shouts.

Another gun shot echoes through the air, making me flinch closer into JJ.

Kie throws the net overboard towards their boat and drops back down to her knees. The sound of the other boat's engine clanging against the net gets my head to perk up and I watch Kie's reaction. She's surprisingly smiling. When she looks at me, she lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head in disbelief because that just worked. Their boats gets stuck.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go," Pope says.

One last gun shot rings through my ears before we make our getaway. I pull myself off the floor and look back at the boat one last time. We severely underestimated how important finding that boat was. Whatever John B found was worth killing us for.

A couple minutes later, John B pulls the boat up to the Chateau and docks it by the wooden slacks that I used as a bed last night. My friends cheer and actually smile after what just happened.

"That was insane!" Kie says.

"Whoo!"

I look at my brother with adrenaline rushing straight to me head. I feel giddy about finding out what JB found - what must be so important. "What do you think it is?"

"Gotta be money, right?" He asks, looking at me.

"That or a couple of keys with street value to the low-to-mid-mills," JJ says, leisurely danglingly his arm around my shoulders.

"Can we please just open the bag?" Pope says loudly, forcing everyone's attention at him who now looks at us sheepishly.

"Wow, Pope," John B laughs. "That's a rare outburst of emotion."

"Okay, you guys are literally killing me with anticipation," He says. "Open the bag!"

"Jeez." JJ whistles.

"We almost died over this," Pope says like its an explanation. But he's right. We did almost die for this, which is why I need to know what's in it now.

John B opens the velvet bag. Something heavier than money falls out of it with a thunk. Its round and metal. Dirty and dented. Physically ugly and maybe priceless, but it looks familiar. I narrow my eyes at it, trying to study it and rack my brain through where I've seen it before.

"Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right," Pope sighs at the sight of our treasure. "Good job, everybody. We found a compass."

The word compass hits me like a train and my body goes slack like my limbs just turned into jell-o. John B is already looking at me, shocked at the real meaning of what we just found. I push myself in front of JJ and look down at the object he's holding. Priceless maybe true to the others but not to me. Not to John B. This means everything.

JJ looks between John B and I and laughs nervously at our reactions. "Dude, what? It's not worth anything."

My brows furrow together in confusion as I try to wrap my head around how we just found our dad's possession on another man's boat. A dead man's boat. But I feel blank. Like someone just wiped all my thoughts and memories.

"This was our father's compass," I say emotionless, keeping my eyes on JB who looks equally as terrified.

Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @jeeperky @realistic-breadstick @moniamaybank @urbinoutfiters @brebear121 @x-lulu

#jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj fic #jj x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks #john b routledge #outer banks rewrite #jj maybank x oc #pope heyward #kiara carrera #obx fic #obx

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natigail · 3 years

Conversation

Dan's projects - tour and pride | 13.04.2021

Dan: I said I was going to spill some tea on what I am working on at the moment. And I did this completely forgetting what I had already told people and I feel like I'm going to get myself in trouble, but this is kind of fun. And I feel like eight weeks in to these stereo show, as you know we're these box boys, you deserve it, you're the dedicated people.

Phil: Yeah!

Dan: And you're spending this time to hang out with us and let's be honest, I keep vague posting about what I've been doing.

*Phil hums in agreement*

Dan: Some of that, it is contractually secret. *giggling* But guess what? Some, some of it isn't. And genuinely-

Phil: You need to make sure you say the right things so they don't throw you off a bridge or something.

Dan: Yeah, Phil you just need to start screaming or, I don't know, yank my headphones out or something. This is on you. I'm putting it on you. It's not on me.

Phil *high-pitched*: Don't put it on me! What are you doing?

Dan: Disclaimer to anyone listening, this is all on Phil now.

Phil: Oh, I'm stressed now.

Dan: There's the disclaimer though. Phil clicked the terms and agreements. Anyway. Eh...

Phil *sternly*: Daniel Howell.

Dan: I don't- I *giggling* Ehmm, right. Just jumping off. A couple of the things I said were ruined by COVID, which is, you know, life and everyone's plans and everything.

Phil *hushed*: Everything is ruined.

Dan: One of these things, hey, one of these things was... a tour. That's right, everybody. I was going to do a new stage show. 'Cause I had a period of reflection and I was like, after all the things I've done in my entire life, what did I like the most? One of those was going on tour because not only for me - I like creating in long things, right?

Phil: Yeah.

Dan: I'm not a Viner or a TikToker, I- it really pains me to even tweet. I don't do short little things, which was maybe why I was the worst YouTuber of all time *chuckling* at making regular content.

Phil: Yeah?

Dan: I love doing really thick things, like one 45 minute long video after a year. Or a book! That's just how my mind works so I really love like "hey Dan and Phil, interactive introverts, this is two hours long, juicy," and I liked that. Then everyone got sneezing if you know what I mean? It's still... it's something that's on the cards. I think that if people were wondering what it was, it would be 2020, 2021 Dan energy, think Basically I'm Gay on stage but with a different theme. Production values and exciting theatricality of the Dan and Phil Shows.

Phil: Yes.

Dan: 'Cause you know, giant microwave. That's a thing that we did. That was your idea. Thank you, Phil. Giant microwave we had to have built.

Phil: You wouldn't have an actual giant microwave for the Dan show, though? Don't get people's hopes up.

Dan: Ehmm... *laughing*

*Joint gleeful laughter.

Phil: We might still have it in storage, that would save you some money.

Dan: My touring agent called me the other day, and they were like "Dan, Australia is opening up, loads of people they are coming to Australia, they are doing the thing. Just do a tour in Australia." And I was like: What about the rest of the world? And they were like "Screw the rest of the world. That's their problem. Just come to Australia." *giggling* And I was a bit like eh... I don't, I mean I feel like I don't want to leave people out. But, um, yeah. I mean that's one thing.

Phil: Yeah.

Dan: Uh, that I could do maybe.

Phil: That's something. Yeah. COVID is still here but things are in some countries starting to open up. We're hoping like-

Dan: It's a cheeky tease of the future.

Phil: Yeah.

Dan: It's like a little bit of naughty ankle flesh being exposed from a Victorian maiden, you know what I mean?

Phil: You're saying that once people can breathe in the same room it's a maybe.

Dan: Yeah, that's it. It's still on the table. Another thing! Okay, this is interesting. Something that popped up super recently out of nowhere

Phil: Yeah?

Dan: it's somewhat COVID pending again, so you know, let's not get too excited.

Phil: Well, everything is.

Dan: We never know what will happen. There is something that I could make shortly after the book comes out and it is potentially a YouTube thing. Uhh...

Phil: Uh!

Dan: And it is, I would have the opportunity and the budget to make something quite cool and it is to do with pride in June. And I can't talk about it too much but what I wanted to ask you guys today, which is something that I don't usually do, is that I am curious what you guys would want me to tackle in a next big Dan Thing. So I'm going to ask the question now.

#dan and phil #dan and phil quotes #dan howell #phil lester #13.04.21 #long post #lockdown lads #mine

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

La vie en rose pt.4

Pietro Maximoff x reader

A/N- 😏

Warning-Violence, talks of self hatred, talks of death, Angst.

———-

It had been a miracle. Some damn lucky miracle.

One because you happened to be close, and two, because in the chaos of the battle you caught the flash of blue zoom by below. You followed the effect with your eyes from the roof you were on, knowing who caused it and that’s when you caught on to Pietros heroic intentions.

At first you had no intention to stop him, after all he was fast and he had saved people several times already, you weren’t against that. But when you saw the problem why Clint Barton didn't have time to run off with the kid in his arms, your eyes widened and you didn’t hesitate a moment longer to fly off the roof to help Pietro.

And it had happened in the matter of seconds, with zero regard to what you were doing, or your own life. All you knew was that Pietro wasn’t going to be fast enough to get away, not with Ultron in that jet shooting like a maniac. So without a second thought you let your powers surround your hands, and the yellow hues ignite your eyes, so as you landed on the ground in front of Pietro, you threw your hands down and a yellow energy wave blasted out of you and turned the bullets into hundreds of beautiful butterflies. You proceeded to twist your hands around, and flick your fingers forward to throw out another powerful yellow wave from your hands that destroyed Ultron, and his jet into little pieces.

After the dust had settled, and once this current danger was dealt with, you let your hands drop to your side and you slowly turn around to flash Pietro a smug smirk, before shooting a cocky quip. “Did you see that coming, Pietro?”

Said man meets your gaze and an impressed smile slowly grows on his face. He doesn’t say anything, or seem to actually find words to say something, so he’s left watching as you approached Clint Barton and the kid—“Are you two okay?” You ask.

Clint nods as he lets the kid down, “no thanks to you and Pietro.” His eyes glance to a passing butterfly and then he looks at you with a perplexed expression. “How the hell did you do that? Bullets into butterflies?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, I just did.”

Before the starstruck kid could say anything, a woman you recognized from a couple nights ago, one Pietro had tried to flatter, came running towards the kid and wrapped him in an embrace. She said something to him before she turned to look at you with a grateful smile. “Thank you. Thank you”

You offer her a small nod and you watch her go off with the kid in arms. Once she disappeared into the crowd, you turn to Pietro and point your head in her direction to add a comment. “There goes conquest number, what was it? Ten? Twenty?”

Pietro smirks and shakes his head as he playfully remarks your comment. “So you are jealous.”

You scoff and roll your eyes before you walk off, seeing him quickly catch up at your side—“Why would I be jealous?” You remark.

Pietro shrugs, “because she got a pretty dress and you didn’t.”

“Oh, please.” You scoff.

“But you know, I can give you something better than a dress.”

You tilt your head his way and quirk a brow to question his comment. “And what is that?”

Pietros smirk widens and he licks his lips before answering. “A date with me.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips to look at him with a pointed glare, to then snap at his comment. “As if.”

Pietro jogs to your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders to continue walking with you down your path. “Oh, come on, just one, little witch. You’ve left me impressed with what you did, and I think that deserves a nice date. Just you and me.”

“Ha.” You snort whilst you push him away and try not to smile. “No.”

——

Your own thoughts, and panic cloud your mind and make you stiffen, and blind after what you did to Pietro out of frustration. You don’t even know if you’re breathing, all you know, all you’re aware of is the horror you felt. You see him on the ground trying to surpass the pain, with the mess his body made after your power impacted his body and threw him across the room, and you can’t help but hate yourself.

You couldn’t help but think to yourself; how did you let it come to this? Why did you get so mad? Control had come so easy, why was it so hard now? And the most important question of them all, who am I?

Tears stream down your face and the feeling of it rolling down your cheeks snaps you back to your senses. You hurry towards Pietro’s side and help him to his feet without even trying to make eye contact, you feel his eyes on you, but you keep your eyes downcasted and keep your hand light so you wouldn’t give into his touch. You hear his lips part, but you speak up first. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I lost control. I’m so sorry.”

Once again you try to look up at him, but as you tried, you only made it halfway up his body before you ripped them away and hurried out the house with your head hung low. You didn’t give Pietro time to talk, or give yourself time to hear if he was trying to stop you, all you do is leave the house and quickly walk out of the neighborhood. And you don’t slow down until you're far from home.

That’s where you feel the cold night breeze on your skin, and feel the thoughts slowly drift back to your mind; just like the guilt and remorse hit you too—how could you even face him again after you did that? You didn’t even deserve to be forgiven—even if you did want to. What were you going to do to control what was clearly getting out of hand?

You express a frustrated groan and rub the bridge of your nose. You’re in deep thought until someone interrupts you.

“Hey, honey, are you okay?!”

You stop in your tracks and lift your eyes before slowly turning your head to the side to see Agnes coming out of her car. You offer her a forced smile and answer her question with a lie. “I’m fine, thank you Agnes.”

Just as you think she’s going to take your excuse, she completely faces you and just as you should’ve figured, she doesn’t believe you—Agnes takes off her witch hat and puts her hands on her hips to pester you. “Oh I know a long face when I see one. And I can’t let you go without taking care of you. Come on in for a cup of tea.”

“I,” you instantly interject with the idea to leave. “Okay, but just one.”

Agnes flashes you a warm smile and waves you over to her house. And the only reason why you took the bait was because what else were you going to do? You couldn’t face Pietro yet. Not until you cleared your mind, or at least some of it.

“So tell me what’s got you so down?” Agnes quieres once you’re inside her house and she’s quickly setting water for tea.

You exhale deeply and take a seat on a couch, watching her sit across from you with regular clothes on now instead of her costume. You don’t really want to answer, but you do anyway. “Just trouble at home. With Pietro.”

“Oh, no what happened?”

You shrug and begin to twist your bracelet around your wrist. “I hurt him…” your words trail off and tears begin to sting your eyes again. “I lost control after I couldn't tell him the truth.”

“Lost control?” She asks. “Is this the first time?”

Your eyes drift to meet hers and your eyebrows knit together for a second but you don’t find it strange. “Yeah, it’s been building up for some time now. I thought I could keep it under wraps. I mean I've always had control, but after—” you pause and swallow thickly, feeling a single tear run down your cheek. You want to continue, but you find it hard to do so, something is just stuck in your throat and makes it difficult. Agnes notices and gets off her seat to get the tea, walking back not so much time after and setting it down so you could continue with more ease. “After something happened, I've been having trouble. And I don’t know what to do.”

There's a moment of silence where you just drink your tea and focus on your fingers as set the cup down. You don’t expect her to say much, maybe just some words of comfort, but nothing beyond that. Yet the words that came out of her mouth surprise you and leave you stunned for a few seconds.

“What if I can help you?” Agnes sets her cup down and stands up once again. “You shared something about yourself, now I’ll share something of myself with you.” She steps to the side and points her head out the living room. “Follow me.”

You hesitate for a moment, but you don’t find any harm in what she's attempting—you probably should have, but you don’t because you end up following her into her basement. One that sent chills down your spine as you saw the vines that traveled across the walls, as you saw how differently it was built and decorated compared to her house upstairs; it was almost like some ancient lair. Agnes had some type of workstation that had a glowing, and dark book on top, as if some type of shrine. You wanted to go near it, to touch it, but she stopped you before you could.

“I am in some ways like Wanda and you, in the way that I can also do magic.”

You turn to face her and watch her with a confused and narrowed gaze—isn’t she supposed to be like everyone else?

“What’s going on?” You ask out loud.

“I can help you y/n, I can make you fall in order again.”

You step back and watch her with caution now. You part your lips to ask a wary question. “You have powers too? How come you’re revealing this now? How did you break out of character?”

Agnes shakes her head disapprovingly and walks towards you. “So many questions and yet you don’t ask the right one. How can I help you.” Agnes stops before you and takes a single hair from you. The action makes you jump slightly and react even further by stepping back, but asking what she had said without need for more of an explanation.

“How can you help me?”

“Easy,” Agnes answers as purple hues begin to emit from her hands—but in a more calm way that differed from Wanda and you. “Tell me how you learned magic. Tell me who you are. Who taught you and how you became so powerful.”

You blink and further continue to narrow your gaze. “I,” you mouth, “I don’t know. I just got my powers. No one taught me.”

“You see I don’t believe that. For example, Sokovia, you turned simple flying bullets into butterflies. How? ” Agnes suddenly chuckles, only making you more confused. “I’ve seen and heard of the other things you’ve done. Your magic is not easy to learn, it takes practice, years of it. Your friend Wanda couldn’t possibly do it.”

Now you’re the one that expresses a fake laugh. “What do you mean, my magic?”

“Order magic.” She answers slowly.

You only stare at her blankly and she only gets frustrated, letting out a loud sigh before stopping what she was doing and beginning to explain deeper. “Do you ever wonder, why you and Wanda get along so well? Why you work so well with each other?”

You shrug, “because we both share similar trauma, because after Hydra we were all each other had. Because we went on the run together.”

“No,” Agnes scoffs, “because you’re like yin and yang. Chaos and Order magic couldn’t be the furthest apart, but also the closest. The two of you are interconnected, you compliment each other in so many ways. You’re each other’s greatest weakness and also each other’s greatest strengths.”

“What?” You probe with a nervous smile. “No, I.”

“It’s true, sweetheart, that’s why unlike Wanda, when you use your powers you aren’t as destructive...well not if you don’t want to. That’s also why when you lose control, it’s the most dangerous. After hers.”

You lift your hands from your sides and slowly examine them with a hint of fear in your eyes—“but I,” you mutter, “how?”

“No, how do you do it? All this in here.” Agnes says as she points to your chest. “How do you do your magic? Who teaches you.”

“No one.” You hiss. “No one taught me.”

“Then how—” Agnes stops and sighs, turning her frown into an assuring smile. “I can only help you if you tell me how you can do what you do, how you got so powerful. How it all started?”

“I don’t understand my powers.” You try to explain.

“I’ll help you.” Agnes uses her powers again, but this time throwing the hue to the wall and creating this door instead of webbing it, or doing whatever it was she was doing with her hands. “Let’s go.” She deadpanned, not letting you question her and grabbing your arm to pull you towards the door. Which once she opened it and you walked through it, you were welcomed into a familiar building, into a past memory of yours.

Where you were once in Agnes’s basement, now you were in your old apartment building that you lived in when you were a little girl. You weren’t in your house, but a floor below, outside the door of an older woman’s home. The day it all went wrong.

“Papa,” you muse as you see him standing outside the door, wearing a simple and comfortable outfit and with a tub of warm food in hand. The older woman who you had come to give the food to smiles and begins to thank your father.

“Thank so much Mr. Eisenhardt for this delicious food, you and your little girl are always so sweet.”

“Oh shouldn’t this get interesting,” Agnes interjects before she pushes you deeper into the memory, seeing your younger self appear next to your father as you remembered further.

“It’s no problem, really, hopefully when you’re feeling better you can join us at our house,” your father assured the woman. “We’d love to have you accompany us for dinner.”

“Oh well, that would be great, I’d love that.”

Your father places his hand on your back and looks down at you to give you a silent signal with a simple look—“thank you so much for taking care of my siblings and I! I hope you feel better.”

A small smile tugs onto the corner of your fathers lips and he returns his attention to the woman. “Well, again I hope you like the food, and if you need anything, you know where you can find us. And please call me, Max.”

The older Woman grins, and offers a last nod. “I will, thank you, enjoy the rest of the day.” She closes the door and your father guides you to the stairs, stopping you just before you can climb them to look down at you with a mischievous smirk, and happy gleaming blue eyes.

“You know your father is a sight for sore eyes,” Agnes comments making your face twist in disgust, “maybe we can get him out of jail.”

You ignore her and continue watching the memory.

“I’ll race you back home.��

You beam up at him and nod eagerly. “Okay! But don’t cheat, you always cheat.”

Your father shrugs and tilts his head, letting the light brighten his face and show the brown color of his hair. “Fine, but I can’t promise I’ll take it easy.”

“Fine,” you exclaim, “whoever gets inside the house first wins!”

“Oh, you are so on!”

In a matter of seconds you’re both off, running up the stairs wildly, and with a big beaming grins on your faces. The things going on outside were horrible; a war was dangerously close to home and there was nothing your family could do to get away from it. As much as they tried, getting away was too expensive, even more so with three young kids. The most they could do to keep you and your siblings from suffering was try their best to keep you happy in doing the smallest things like, watching movies, dancing in the living room and or doing races back home. It was simple, yet the best. You wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

But it was ripped away from you. As you reached your needed floor, after you had playfully pushed your father to get up before him. You raced down the hallway and made it to the door first. You had your hand on the knob and looked back at your father with a taunting grin. When you opened it and threw the door open, you took one step inside and tried to call out your win to your mother, who had your baby sister in arms in the kitchen.

“Mama! I beat daddy! I—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you were cut off as an explosion hit your house and sent you flying back out of the entrance of your house, making you hit a wall and making you go unconscious for a couple of minutes.

It all felt like some sick dream, but it wasn’t, as your eyes fluttered open all you saw was the open sky, and you heard pleading and crying by your ear “Come on, please baby girl, please, please.”

You shifted your eyes to the side and saw him sobbing beside you, saw and felt him cradling you. You could barely move and you felt pain all over your body, but you also felt comfort with your father beside you—“papa,” you whisper.

Said man opens his eyes and smiles, hugging you tighter and pressing multiple kisses on the side of your head. Yet he didn’t stop you from seeing the big rubble gap where your house once was. You want to ask about the rest of your family, but before you could, from the sky that you could clearly see because of the lack of walls and roofs, you spotted something big and dark flying your way.

Something suddenly sparked within you and you didn’t hesitate to stretch out your hand with the intention to stop it. Your father caught onto what you were doing and copied your action, albeit unlike you he did actually stop it in midair. You both waited for it to go off but it never did.

Suddenly you hear Agnes chuckle and appear beside you as you watched the memory play out. “Super powered, “papa” and his magic daughter.”

“No,” you dismiss, “I didn't have my powers yet. It was my father, he has the ability to— ”

“Yes! But he can’t stop it from going off,” Agnes cuts you off, “you used a probability hex. Which means this traumatic event triggered something within little you. You just didn’t know it yet. So again how did you get your magic?” Agnes shakes her head and suddenly you were pulled back somewhere else. Standing outside another door. Agnes tried nudging you through it, but you recognized it and didn’t want to go in. “I need to know, y/n. Go in.”

“Know what?” You snap back, “how I got my powers? Easy an infinity stone, I had nothing before it. And trust me I would’ve known, my father tried and nothing ever happened.”

Agnes hums and slowly walks around you, tapping her chin and staying quiet until a thought came to mind. “Okay then, but how do you do it? All this order, even when you don’t try, you just do everything right.” She comes to a stop before you and watches you with a narrowed gaze. You look away and as you do she goes to a wall and picks up a beatle, continuing to come near you and using her magic to turn the beatle into a bird as she said something in a language you didn’t understand. Before she could hand it to you, she got the bird's wing and snapped it, making you gasp and look at her in disbelief—“fix it,” she grumbled. “Before it dies.”

She hands it to you regardless and you look down at it for a moment without doing anything. Could you even do it? You have no control. But you had to try. So you cup your hands around the bird, and use your powers. You don’t say anything, just let the yellow hues flow out and surround the bird. Agnes watches you carefully and anxiously. However when you open your hands, the bird isn’t a bird, yet in a state between a beetle and the bird.

“What the hell?” You gasp.

“Hmm,” Agnes sighs, “so powerful yet so useless without control. I know the how, now I want you to regain control.” She mutters while she picks up the bird from your hands and throws it to her rabbit. “You need a teacher. I can help you, so you can become who you’re meant to be. I can help you gain control and help you even turn your husband into someone who doesn’t have to live in the hex. You just got to gain control.”

“What do you gain from helping me?” You ask seriously.

Agnes walks towards the door and stops before she can open it to look back at you with a hidden smirk. “just….the pleasure of helping someone in need.” She lies, unknowingly to you. “Come on.”

You should’ve hesitated, questioned why she was so eager to help, but you were eager to be helped, to gain control again. So that was your mistake against someone you hardly knew.

You followed her through the door and you were welcomed inside an abandoned studio room; you heard laughter and saw a light lit in the distance and you can’t help but walk towards it. Even if you already knew what was waiting.

“Fill it up again, Eisenhardt.” Sam exclaims as he raises his cup.

You do as he says and easily fill it up with a simple look at his cup.

“I will never get over how you can do that. You’re amazing.”

“As easy as blinking,” Agnes mumbles. You smile softly at the memory and take in the scene of Natasha, Steve, Sam, Pietro, Wanda and yourself sitting around just enjoying each other’s company. “So this is what brings you serenity. Them.”

“We had been on the run for a year and a half,” you muse as you watch the memory play out. “We were all each other had, all each other saw. We were a family. And now,” you trail off as you hear the music play in the room, as you see Pietro getting up to pull you to dance and have fun on a peaceful night. “Natasha is dead...Steve is well...he’s basically gone. Pietro is dead too, and I don’t talk to Sam...not like he’ll talk to me after this.”

“Once again you’ve lost everyone,” Agnes taunts you from behind, causing you to grow stiff and wide eyed. “So much agony in a happy memory.”

You drop your gaze and slowly try to turn and confront what she was trying to do, but she swiftly moved your head so you would continue watching the memory. You try to squirm away from her, but she grabs onto you tighter and turns you so you’re in a completely different environment. Suddenly instead of being in that abandoned studio, you’re in Wakanda. You want to turn away and avoid seeing what haunted your mind, soul and heart, but Agnes uses her power to restrain your hands and feet so you would keep watching. “No,” you shake your head, “stop what you’re doing. You were supposed to help.” You seeth as you squirm to try and get out. “Let me go!”

“Just watch,” Agnes grumbles as she clutches onto your jaw and forces you to watch as Thanos snaps Pietro's neck and leaves you paralyzed on the ground. You want to look away, you can’t relive the moment of pain, but you’re forced to and it hurts again—“this was the trigger to something bigger than yourself, y/n. You have to let go.” Agnes lets your head go and you tear your gaze away, feeling your tears stream down your face and anger boiling at the pit of your stomach. It’s quick to grow and has you looking up at Agnes with a death glare.

“I will,” you growl, “not lose control to you. I won’t let people control me either.” You feel your own power tear down this illusion and you’re brought back to the dark basement. You break through her magic restraints and your power engulfs your hands. You spin around to face her and she has a malicious look in her crazed gaze.

“That’s it, feel it, let it out, remember the pain you felt when Pietro died.”

“Stop,” you bellow.

Agnes walks towards you without regard to her safety and an evil look shines in her eyes. “Remember how it felt when Natasha died too. How it felt to slowly lose people one by one.”

The hues around your hands grow brighter and more dangerous, and you feel as if something is ticking in your head ready to go off at any minute. You try to not let her get to you, but her words were enraging you and tearing your walls down.

“Remember,” Agnes continues, “the sound of Pietros neck snapping, feel that same heartbreak.”

You ball your fist and let out a small growl, you dig your feet into the ground and before you could even attempt to do anything, before that bomb in your head could go off and make you lose control; you’re suddenly swooped off the ground, and in a matter of a second you’re out of Agne’s house and in the front of your own.

When you’re placed on the ground and you’re back to the normal speed of time, you lift your gaze to see Pietro looking at you with a smug smirk. “Did you see that coming?”

Slowly an emotional smile grows on your lips and you’re quick to throw your arms around Pietro. He hugs you back and gently strokes your back.

Before you could say anything in regards to what happened with him and you before, you bring something else up first. “We have to warn Wanda about Agnes.”

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

Does anyone else wonder what would happen if Anakin & the Clones were to 'steal' some of the Jedi's so called Reject (or ones on the way) Initiates? Obi-Wan did spend time as a Slave & he has clearly been Brainwashed by his CURRENT Masters. Anakin with the help of Aayla, Ahsoka, Vos, Obi-Wan, &Clones could raise them to be great. I never understood why they took the L.S. from the people they sent into the Corps when they say that L.S. are their lives. Basically saying that they are Dead to them.

ahh hello you sent this i think in May and i'm gonna be a bit honest i didn't like it that much because i think it's much, much too heavily jedi-critical for my tastes--obligatory pause for the I Love The Jedi Order ad run-- so i wrote this in about an hour about what i think would happen if Anakin and his men were to steal some of the Jedi Initiates, and no. No, it doesn't go well. Because the Jedi raise their kids in a community for a reason and literally Anakin could not do that alone and there is no way i can see it working on a practical level because I don't think Anakin or his men know the first thing about childcare, save for Anakin's occasional shift at the creche.

I didn't mean for this to be Anakin-critical, but someone had to be the guy getting lectured and i figured it should be the guy that kidnapped some kids. anakin needs to get lectured more sometimes imo.

(1.6k)

Three of the Initiates won’t stop crying, and a fourth has been shivering since they jumped into hyperspace, no matter how many blankets Rex has draped over their form.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Anakin doesn’t know what to do. He’d thought…well, Anakin’s sure that his former master would say that he hasn’t been thinking at all lately, and certainly not when he’d hatched this harebrained scheme to steal away younglings from a cruiser bound for the AgriCorps.

But he’d thought, really, that all Initiates would be like Ahsoka had been when she’d come to him as his padawan. That they’d be snarky but kind, quick to adapt and ready to listen to him as the authority figure.

Apparently, every youngling isn’t the same. Who knew.

The fifth Initiate who had aged too old to be taken in by a master sits in sullen silence by the porthole, but they’re screaming in the Force.

Anakin’s head hurts. He’s being bombarded on all sides by children whose mental shields aren’t strong enough to keep their very strong emotions in. They’re terrified. They’re terrified of him.

He calls Obi-Wan. He doesn’t know what else to do, and he had never, ever wanted to hurt these children. He’d been trying to help them.

It just turns out that he doesn’t know how.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan snaps as soon as the call connects. Anakin flinches away from that tone. It means danger. Not in a physical sense, but in a I’m Very, Very Disappointed With You sense. Which might be even worse.

“Master,” he says. One of the Initiates lets out a particularly high pitched cry.

“Are the younglings okay? What have you done, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks him in an aghast tone.

It makes Anakin bristle, even though he’s just been thinking the same thing not a minute ago. “It’s not right that the Jedi just send some of their younglings away! They deserve better than that! They’re children! They deserve choices! The Jedi—they took them from their homes and then they’re just giving them away! It’s worse than slavery! And if you can’t see it, Master, you’re as brainwashed as the rest of the Jedi!”

The holo of Obi-Wan looks at him for so long that Anakin starts to fidget. Finally, his master shakes his head slowly. “That was a very nice speech, Anakin. Who told you that?”

“I can’t think for myself!” Anakin snaps.

Obi-Wan raises a delicate eyebrow and checks something on his datapaad. “I see you were scheduled to have tea with the Chancellor at 2000 last night. Is it safe to presume you discussed the Jedi tradition of sending Initiates to the Corps?”

Anakin blushes furiously at that. It had been the Chancellor, actually, who told him about this in the first place. He’d always known, of course, but he hadn’t known the details. “You take away their lightsabers!” He shouts. “Master, you told me that my lightsaber was my life! And then you just take them away from the Initiates? It’s like you’re killing them!”

Obi-Wan looks alarmed and even confused. “Anakin,” he says slowly. “Are you really expecting the Jedi to let barely trained thirteen year olds run amuck with dangerous weapons?”

“Barely trained? I was only six years older than that when I was Knighted!”

“An event I regret not arguing against more every day,” Obi-Wan rubs at his temple for a second before looking up at Anakin. “A lightsaber is your life if you’re out in the field, on a mission, on a dangerous planet, in a war. In what event would a youngling need one in the AgriCorps? Would you run to the Senate and demand Senator Amidala’s floating podium? I’m sure she would say it’s her life.”

Anakin splutters. It’s not the same.

“But put all of that aside for a second, alright. Yes, I too wish that younglings and initiates brought to the Temple to be trained could all be trained. But there are simply not enough Jedi. And one should never rush a padawanship in order to take on another Padawan. Do you know what happens to the Initiates sent to the Corps?”

The Chancellor had made it sound as though they were forced to do backbreaking work in the fields of the planets the Corps had bases on. Anakin gets the feeling that if he were to say that now, Obi-Wan would disconnect the comm, and as much as he doesn’t need a lecture, he does need help.

When Anakin makes no move to say anything, Obi-Wan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “The younglings you’ve kidnapped—they’re in pain, yes?”

Anakin crosses his arms at the phrasing, but he can’t deny that they are crying.

“Initiates sent to the AgriCorps are sent in groups of ten or more if we can help it. That’s because it helps them latch onto each other and strengthen their own shields, all with a mind healer in the cruiser with them to oversee the process. And upon arrival at the AgriCorps, they’re specially trained still until they would have been Knighted. Not in combat or diplomacy as you and I were, but in meditation and compassion, as you and I were. We don’t…the Jedi don’t just send our younglings out into space alone! We have systems in place that help with the transition. Systems you have ruined because you did not even try to understand them.”

“I wanted to help them,” Anakin protests, but it’s weak and he knows it.

“Help them? Help them?” Obi-Wan repeats. “Padawan, unless you have been spending much more time in the crèche than I have ever seen you voluntarily sign up for, you have no idea how to help them! I have no idea to how to help them! The Jedi raise our children communally for that very reason. You cannot do it alone. Neither could any of us, but together we can. What were you going to do, Anakin? Where would you take them, how would you feed them? Clothe them? Train them? Were you going to form training bonds with all of them? Because you’re powerful, you’re the Chosen One. You don’t need the Jedi Order.”

“I never said that,” Anakin mutters. “I’m not—I didn’t do this because I’m the Chosen One or—or whatever, I—“

“Was listening to the wrong source of information, I am highly aware, yes. Now. We do have your coordinates now. There will be consequences for this. There has to be. Hopefully harsh enough consequences that the next time you think you can abuse your authority over your men to unilaterally right an injustice only you can see, you think twice. You call me before you commit a felony.”

“Palpatine told me you were almost sent to the AgriCorps!” Anakin bursts out. “He said you were made a slave!”

Obi-Wan freezes and turns his face back to Anakin completely. “Ah.” He says.

“You admit it!”

“I…they were hardly related, Anakin. Bad things happen, yes. No matter how hard we try to create a perfect system. External trouble will arise. Like, say, your friend Palpatine who, indirectly through you, has managed to derail a simple AgriCorps drop-off and also ground The Hero With No Fear during a war.”

Anakin curls his lips. “This isn’t about anything but the younglings. I felt them on that cruiser. They were scared! And sad! And confused! And hurt! You can’t tell me you weren’t when you thought you had to leave!”

Obi-Wan runs a hand over his face and stays quiet for a few moments. “I was,” he finally admits. “And I’m sure they are too.” Anakin goes to say something, but Obi-Wan holds up his hand. “I’ll not mention the fact that I’m sure you’ve made it worse for them, despite what I know were only gold intentions. And I will say yes, I was scared. And sad. And hurt. And angry too. I was leaving my home. I didn’t understand why.”

Obi-Wan fixes him with a cutting stare, one that makes Anakin feel all of eleven again.

“Tell me this though, Anakin. How did you feel when you left Mos Espa with my master, Qui-Gon Jinn? Did you feel scared? Or sad? Perhaps angry? Hurt?”

Clenching his jaw around the denial that he hadn’t felt any of those things (he had), Anakin nods stiffly.

“Because you were leaving your home?” Obi-Wan presses.

“No one should be forced to leave their home. No child should feel like that!” Anakin bursts out.

“But do you still feel like that?” Obi-wan ignores his outburst. “Do you still feel angry and sad and scared and hurt all the time? Do you hate the Temple that much, Padawan? The Order? The Council? …Me?”

Anakin stares at him, and Obi-Wan shakes his head slightly and clears his throat.

“I apologize, I should not have made that so personal. My point, however, is that they are scared now and they are mad now, and they will not have the life they thought they would. But they will not be alone to work through that disappointment. How could you think you and your men are better equipped to dealing with these younglings’ needs than a community of fully trained people who have been in their position before?”

Anakin scowls, but there’s a high piercing sob from behind him that has him turning around in worry. Kix rushes over to the youngling, but he can’t help them. He’s not Force-sensitive, let alone trained in the Force. Obi-Wan’s right. Force, he hates it when that happens.

“Alright, master,” Anakin says when he looks back at Obi-Wan. “I’m sure you’re on our tail already, so we’ll turn around and meet you halfway.”

“Thank you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan tells him quietly. “And…Padawan, I know your heart was in a good place but…oh, we’ll talk much more about this later.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And Padawan? Perhaps no more tea with the Chancellor for a while.”

“…yes, Master.”

#asks #prompt fill #ah im sorry i do know when you sent this anon i was much less attached to making my opinions known #about like the jedi order and stuff #but tbh no i dont think it would work out well #i spent a summer dealing with 11-13 year olds #theyre the worst.#i dont care how well fanon anakin can be at everything ever #he would not be able to pull this off and neither could obi-wan #and i hope you were being playfully ironic by saying obi-wans been brainwashed by his current masters because #i #no #sorry but #no no

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reincarnated70sbaby · 3 years

Text

maritime madness

led zeppelin x reader

warnings: swearing, drug use

an: so I was sailing yesterday and I was thinking about this the entire time I might have nearly capsized the boat

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this” I spoke, staring out at the large blue yacht that rested on the waters of Normandy. It all started the day before, when we were all throwing around tripped out ideas in our hotel room.

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” Jimmy asked. I sat by his side, my head resting on his bony shoulder. My dose of LSD had just kicked it, and as it was my first time it probably hit me quicker than the others. I tried to speak, but it felt like every time I moved my mouth, it felt like I would stretch my mouth out of shape, like putty.

“Let’s go explore that cathedral, the big massive one, y’know? The one with the hunchback. Maybe we could bump into him or something”

As soon as the words left Robert’s lips, our entire entourage burst out in giggles. I myself, was having hard time controlling my breathing. I had to rest my head in Jimmy’s lap, Jimmy being doubled down over me clutching his stomach.

“Percy, you dumb fucker, y-you know that’s not a real story” Jonesy informed, all his words all broken up by loud chuckles.

Roberts jaw immediately dropped open in shock, along with his eyes widening and brown trashing in confusion.

“Nah, yeah it was, the uh, the hunchman did the um, bells. Yeah, the bells”

“No he didn’t, because he never existed you nonce. It’s a fairytale from the 19th century” Jimmy piped in, adding his extensive knowledge of mythology and folklore into the conversation.

“But me ma said he existed, you’re gonna say my mum lied to me all those years?”

“Well obviously Perce, it’s just a bedtime story” Jonesy added, still chuckling to himself at Robert’s gullible nature.

“Fine then, someone else give an idea since all of mine always get ridiculed” Robert stated, crossing his arms and craning his head back against the footboard of the bed and staring at the ceiling in a huff.

“How about Père Lachaise?”

“What the actual fuck is pear la chair Pagey?” Bonzo asked, pronouncing the words all wrong in his thick Englishman accent.

“It’s Père Lachaise” Jimmy corrected in a perfect French accent, “and it’s a graveyard in Paris, loads of famous people are buried there - Oscar Wilde, Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf”

“Jimmy you must be as mad as Morrison to think we would waste our day off in a fucking dead person museum. Jesus Christ how did we pick you up” Bonzo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, what about Mont Saint-Michel? It’s this cool island off of the coast. There’s a bridge but once the tide comes in you can’t get in or out. Wouldn’t that be good craic eh?” Jonesy suggested

“No” Bonzo, Jimmy and Robert all said at the same time.

“Ah! You’ve been outnumbered Mr Jones haha. Maybe you and I could go out another time Jonny boy, we could go exploring and see the spirits trapped on the island” I said with a chuckle, the psychedelic in my system making this whole situation very funny.

“Jesus Christ what the fuck did she even say. That her first time on acid?” Robert asked to Jimmy.

“Must’ve been, it hit her pretty quickly” Jimmy replied, staring into my largely dilated pupils. He swore he could’ve seen something dancing in my pupils, but maybe that was just the drug in him.

We all sat in silence for a couple minutes, all of us enjoying our high.

“Innnnnnnnnnnnnnn fourteen hundred ninety two, Columbus sailed the ocean blueeee” I sang, the lyrics being the only words of a song I could think of to fill the silence. A beat of silence passed and I wondered if everybody suddenly passed out, either into sleep or another dimension.

As I started the next line, everyone else joined in with me. We eventually finished the entire song, even an encore requested by the boys. I sung the encore in a horrendous, deep operatic voice while prancing round the hotel room. A round of applause sounded, and I took my theatrical bows in front of my supportive crowd.

“That’s It! I know what we can do tomorrow. God that is a good idea!” Bonzo declared, jumping up to his feet, not before nearly tumbling backwards.

“Go on then Bonz, don’t leave us guessing mate” Jonesy suggested, breaking the dramatic silence that had ensued.

“Rent a yacht! We can go out early in the morning and stay overnight since our flight back home is in the evening anyway! All we need to do is hire a skipper or something”

We all were stoked at idea of having a private boat to ourselves. Sure, none of the boys were experienced sailors, but that’s what a professional skipper was for, driving rich people around in yachts right?

“Do we really have to do this” I said, making our way through the marina to our yacht.

“The skipper will probably dive off the boat when we get started tonight” Jonesy commented, sharing my lack of enthusiasm for the maritime adventure. “We should have ditched them and gone to Mont Saint-Michel”. I only hummed in response, dragging my overnight suitcase over the gaps in the planks of wood on the dock.

“Um yeah, about that skipper. We couldn’t exactly book one on such short notice” Cole confessed.

“What the actual fuck Cole? Are we just supposed to sail ourselves and drown? I can’t tie a knot to save my bloody life” Robert shrieked. We all stopped in our tracks and turned to the tour manager, glaring at him through our sunglasses.

“Of course not Percy, why would we do that to our cash cows hm? And this is a motorboat, no ropes involved. It’s basically like driving a car. In water. In fact, all you need to drive it is a drivers license, which I’m positive you all have judging by your expansive car choices. Forgot to mention that myself and Peter have opted out” With that note, Cole dropped the yacht keys into Bonzo’s hand and scuttled away.

We all stood there, bags in hand, confusion over our faces as we watched Cole’s figure disappear behind the hundred of other boats.

“Well shit” Jonesy said, the sourness in his voice barely hidden.

“Let’s just go check it out, we don’t even have to leave the marina if we can drive it, we’ll just park out all night” Bonzo affirmed, being unusually optimistic.

We all found the boat and as the boys started embarking aboard, I thought out loud.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Cmon darling, let’s just see what it’s like. If you hate it we’ll do something else” Jimmy compromised, outstretching his hand to me.

The boat bobbed a bit on the water as I stepped on.

“It’s not hating it I’m worried about, I was practically raised on a boat Jim, I’m just not sure 4 rockstars and a boat is a great combination”

“It’s okay we won’t go too hard, at least one of us won’t, I guess. Anyway, you were raised on a boat? Like a houseboat or something?”

“No, my dad was a skipper. Whenever he was home from trips, he would teach my and my siblings to sail. Y’know the whole nine yards, all the different knots, pulling in the ropes, steering, navigating charts. It’s just been a while since I’ve been on one and I hope I can remember everything”

“Gosh you are fabulous, my dear, I learn something new about you everyday” Jimmy said, pulling me in for a kiss. There was a loud bang of the engine, which we both jumped apart at.

“What the fuck are they at now, Christ” Jimmy sighed.

“Here, go set down our stuff in the biggest room, I’ll go see what they’re messing with”

We both parted, Jimmy heading downstairs, myself climbing onto the helm.

“Oi, Bonz, Percy, step away from the wheel until I get us out of this parking lot” I commanded. Both Robert and Bonzo looked at me funny, before slowly raising their arms and stepping away.

“And you know better?” Bonzo asked, still not sure where my bossiness came from.

“I think I do, unless you have your skipper license on hand?”

“Wait, you have a sailing license?” Robert interjected.

“I actually don’t, but I know everything you need to not drown. My father was a sailor and he taught me how to run a boat. Thank god we have a motorboat, as we might’ve been a little trouble if we have a proper sailing yacht. If we were, it wouldn’t have been as relaxing as simply steering a wheel” I answered, switching the engine on.

We warmed up the engine for a couple minutes, then casted off and finally escaped the madness of the marina. Soon were out on the French coastline. We continued sailing perpendicular to the coast, not wanting to stray too far. All the boys took turns steering, with Jonesy being the best skipper in-training out of all of them. Only once had we had anchored the boat again was the real party going to start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

if only sailing was this easy in reality 😒

anyway I’m gonna do a spicier part 2 riiight now😎

leave any comments/ideas down below!!!!

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#led zeppelin #led zeppelin x reader #jimmy page #john bonham #john paul jones #robert plant

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 23

--------

2000

We were ten years old, Derek and I. Playing a game of hide and seek with his sister Laura. It felt like it was more a game of “let the kids run around and not bother me”. We were deep in the woods outside of their home, laughing and squealing delight as we ran and ran. That is until lightning flashed through the sky and thunder boomed immediately after. Spooked, we ran further from the thunder and lightning, finding a small improvised shelter that we had made a few years before when we would play cops and robbers. Derek’s uncle Peter had helped us build it, occasionally playing the sheriff when he deemed us “less annoying than usual”.

Once inside the little hut, we sat and decided to wait out the storm or at least until someone came to get us. It was mostly dry with only or two leaks in the roof. We waited a while in silence, only the rain and wind howling filled the air. It was almost peaceful. I had been sitting there, literally twiddling my thumbs when I noticed the anxious movements Derek was making. He was tapping his foot against the soft earth and he was repeatedly cracking his knuckles.

“What is it?” I asked. He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked at him, then looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“I was just thinking about what my mom said last year... About us being arranged in a marriage.”

“What about it?” I turned my body so that I could face him.

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno... I guess that I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage with you. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“You’re right.” I glanced out towards the woods, smiling fondly, “I want to fall in love. I want someone like Dimitri in Anastasia.” I sighed dreamily.

“Wasn’t he a con-artist?” Derek raised an eyebrow. I shoved him playfully.

“No...Well, yes. But he doesn’t take the money the Duchess offered him as a reward because he wants Anastasia to be happy.”

“He’s a cartoon.”

“And you’re a dork.” I shook my head, “What about you? Who would you wanna marry someday?”

Derek thought for a moment, “I guess... I would want someone like Anastasia. She’s super badass and defeats the villain all by herself. She also went through a lot and did a lot even when she didn’t remember who she was, she fought for her future.”

As sweet as that was...

“She’s a cartoon.” I mocked his voice. He grinned and shoved me, starting a wrestling match that ended with Talia and Peter finding us. They brought us home and made us hot chocolate.

After landing, Michael and I had taken a ferry to the Shetland islands to Sumburgh, the village on the island where the Lunar Circle was settled. We actually were brought to a castle, which was already insane enough. The next insane thing was a statue just inside the massive doors into the main room of the castle. It was a humanoid with the head of a wolf, wearing a kilt and armor. The creature also carried a sword.

“What is that?” I whispered to Michael.

“The Wulver. A werewolf that had come to peace with his wolf and human sides. He was friendly to locals and they seemed fine with him. That’s when hunters came and tried to kill him. He was the reason for founding the Lunar Circle - coexistence.

“Can I do that?” I whispered under my breath.

“Unfortunately, no.” Our attention was brought to a man with a thick Scottish accent walking into the room, “Our world has lost touch with the old magic. But maybe someday we can bring it back.” He was average height, with salt and pepper hair that was on the longer side and a bit shaggy. His eyes were a kind blue color. He held out his hand to me.

“Praetor Lachlan McLeod.” The stranger introduced himself, “It’s so good to finally meet you, (Y/N).” So this was the man who wrote the letter, it was nice to have a face to a name. I shook his hand and smiled politely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Praetor.” From my googling, Praetor was a Roman term for an official, which was an interesting concept since Rome had completely invaded all of England, Ireland, and Scotland and almost wiped out their culture. But whatever.

“Please, call me Lachlan.”

I nodded, “Okay, Lachlan.” He held both of my hands in his smiling sympathetically.

“I want to extend my condolences, again, for your loss. Your mother and father did so much for the Lunar Circle.”

Slowly, I slipped my hands from his, “Thank you... I just have a lot of questions about them.”

“All in due time, my dear. You’ve had a long flight and I’m sure that you’re exhausted.”

Michael sighed, “Oh, we sure are-”

“I’m not tired. I want answers.” I said sternly. Michael looked incredibly nervous which made me wonder how high up this Lachlan guy was, “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am coming from a place where I am just now remembering my parents were a part of a secret werewolf society that gave them the tools to take all of my memories away and said society wouldn’t allow me to be accompanied by my partner. It took a lot for him to let me come by myself, especially since he had never trusted the Lunar Circle in the first place.”

“Ah, yes, Derek Hale.” He said, almost amused, “I remember his mother’s rejection letter. It was somehow very personal. I think she referred to me as ‘a spineless coward who would rather fraternize with the enemy than fight them.”

I clicked my tongue, “Sounds like Talia.” Michael nudged my side, signally for me to chill.

“And another thing-”

“Oh no.” Michael hid his face in his hands.

“This guy.” I pointed to Michael, “He killed my parents, isn’t there some kind of punishment for that?”

Michael ripped his hands from his face, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Mr. Keaton’s unfortunate affliction caused by Peter Hale has been reviewed.” Lachlan put his arms behind his back, “I assure you. It was all the Hale’s doing.”

I jerked forward, Michael had to grab my arms to hold me back, “Derek is not his uncle.” My eyes flashing red.

Lachlan raised his eyebrows and smiled, leaning down and flashing his alpha red eyes at me in return, “I’m sure he’s not.” The red left his eyes and he stood up straight, “Take her to the infirmary and then straight to bed.” He said to Michael, his eyes never leaving mine. I kept my eyes on him, even as he started to walk away, this kilt swaying with each step.

“The infirmary? Why?” Michael asked.

“I believe Miss (Y/L/N) is carrying something.” He grinned, “Something that may calm her temper.”

After a blood test in the infirmary, we were escorted to two rooms in the castle. Of course, this left me alone with my thoughts that I really didn’t want to think about. Knowing that Derek and everyone else was back home fighting against the alpha pack while I was in this ancient castle where I haven’t gotten the answers I wanted. Why was I even here? To take up my parents’ mantle? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to go back home and help. I looked out the window of the castle, seeing the moon high in the sky.

I mean, what could they tell that I didn’t already know? My parents took my memories to keep me safe and look where it got them? Burned to ashes. And what else? I was only stalked by a psychopath and had to watch my friend struggle to not hurt anyone. I mean, hell, I was still struggling with the change. Uncle Noah was still processing what I was. Yes, he’s supportive but to what end? And Stiles? I wasn’t there to protect him when he was kidnapped and beaten by the Argents and now I was millions of miles away and if he was in trouble there was nothing that I could do. And if anything happened to Derek and I wasn’t there to save him? What was the point of even being alive? I would be without them, helpless and guilty, all because of some stupid secret society.

My chest got tighter and tighter as my emotions ran high. My thoughts and feelings were moving so quickly that it felt like I didn’t have control of my own mind. My hands clenched tight, I could feel all of my features shift. Coarse hair growing down the sides of my face, the bridge of my nose tightening. I screamed loudly, the high pitch lowering into a loud roar.

“This is your fault!” She shouted, standing up, “Take me home!” She lunged forward. Michael lunged forward, using the shield to knock her back across the room and into the window. Surprisingly, it didn’t break. She fell to the ground, looking up quickly.

MICHAEL

From the loud roar that just came from the next to his, Michael had a feeling that the Sheriff had been right. She was a time bomb and she just exploded. Michael quickly grabbed a shield from one of the suits of armor that for some reason always decorated castles and made his way into (Y/N)’s room. (Y/N) was on the bed, tearing at pillows. There were feathers and fluff flying all over the room. She was in full shift, her eyes fiery red, her canines sharp. Her eyes took him in, snarling loudly. She jumped off the bed, landing in front of him on all fours. Michael jumped back, shield held tight in his hand.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He tried to put on a brave face, “You just need to calm down and get some rest.”

“SCREW YOU!” She shouted, lunging again. This time, Michael moved on the way, letting her slam into the door, which also didn’t break.

“That’s a good door.” He said to himself. Michael looked from the door and back to the angry werewolf. She was seething with rage and one step closer to killing him.

“Think about this. You don’t want to kill me!”

“Yes, I do! I hate you!”

“Hate is such a strong word...” He said nervously. (Y/N) lunged again and was met by a door to the face. Lachlan had opened the door and they both looked down at (Y/N) on the floor. She was on her behind, rubbing her forehead. Lachlan sighed, reaching down to help (Y/N) up.

“I seem to have underestimated your anger. Please, walk with me.”

(Y/N)

Lachlan led me out of the castle and down to the grounds. In the back of the stone walls, there was a large garden. The Praetor hadn’t said anything since we had been out here, but I think that’s what he wanted. The moon and the atmosphere around us was calming, must be the magic here.

“I apologize for dismissing your concerns earlier.” Lachlan said finally, leading us to the cliff side where we could see the waves crashing against the rocks, “You have been through a lot lately. More than any new werewolf is expected to handle as well as you have.” When I looked at him, I could tell he was being genuine.

“I just...” I sighed, leaning against a nearby oak, “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave my partner behind. And... I didn’t want to meet the people who told my parents to take my life from me.”

Lachlan looked up at the moon, the wind flowing through his hair, “Your concerns are near and dear to my heart. My own parents used the Wolf Eclipse spell on me after I mated with a she-wolf from a rival clan. The look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t know who she was... I see it every time I close my eyes. And then I lost her.” His voice shook a bit, “I never forgave them after that.” He looked back at me, “When your parents told us that they had done the spell after the Hale fire, we told them it was a bad idea. You needed to be stronger than ever, maybe even leave Beacon Hills, but they became too attached to the community, to the sheriff and his son.” They stayed for them... I have no idea what my life would have been like without Stiles in it. It was so different. That was a life I didn’t want to think about because it was a life without my best friend and his insane antics. It was a life without Uncle Noah who loved me no matter what. It would be a life without Derek, or at least a life where I wouldn’t be there to meet him again.

“I remember now that my father thought we were safe.” I wrapped my arms around myself, “Chris Argent is loyal to his word and the code his family is supposed to follow. Unfortunately, he is the only one who follows that code. Even his own daughter was corrupted by his father and his sister and she was dating a werewolf.”

“Unfortunately, not every hunter can be Chris Argent. From our understanding, he is the only one fighting with his head while the others see us as inhuman.” He chuckled, “You might even say that we are more human than they are.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

“Lachlan?”

“Hmm?”

“What am I doing here? Why bring me all this way?”

Lachlan looked back up at the moon and smiled, “Well, it was originally to restore your memories. Thankfully, that resolved itself. Now, since you are the only member left of your clan - an alpha was two sparks - we were hoping that you could spend some time with us to relearn the basics. And I also want you to relax, experience your culture, your legacy.”

“That sounds great and all. But I don’t have time to do that. I need to get back to Derek.”

“(Y/N), you know that it is too dangerous for the both of you to be there. I don’t want you to experience what it’s like to lose a mate. It’s... It’s soul crushing. Losing who you love most - that is the worst pain anyone can feel.” Lachlan turned to go back to the castle, “Think about it. You aren’t a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you like. But I think you could do great things with just a little help.” With that, his footsteps faded into the darkness; leaving me with only my thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean below. I had to make a decision, one that would ultimately decide my future as an alpha. I just wish someone I knew was here to help me make this decision. If only Uncle Noah were here. He was so level headed and wanted the best for me, but the werewolf drama was probably too much for him already. And Derek would want me to hone in on my skills, even if that meant going into battles alone and possibly losing them.

I just wish it wasn’t this hard.

After pressing Derek’s contact, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I had no idea what time it was back home, I just needed to at least pretend I was talking to him.

“Hey Der.” I smiled, “I know it’s late or early. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I wanted to call you and tell you how today went. The flight was long, the food was okay. Uh they made me get a blood test for whatever reason. Oh, and there’s this thing called the Wulver and he was a werewolf that came to peace with his human and animal side. Lachlan’s really nice and doesn’t want to take me from you so the coast is clear on that one. And uh I remembered something today. When we were kids, we got lost in the woods in a storm and we talked about crushes. Funny how you had a crush on a girl who lost her memories.” I laughed, “Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. And I’ll be back as soon-”

I was cut off by a beep and a message telling me that the allotted time of this message was over. Sighing, I set my phone down and flopped back on the extravagant bed that seemed to form to my body in just the right way. All the fluff and feathers had been cleaned by the time I came back so I should probably thank whoever the cleaning staff were. All I can do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will give me better answers.

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Read part 24 here!

I watched Inside today so I am no feeling good.

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