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jen-with-a-pen · 9 months ago

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ALL TIED UP - FIVE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve's night is made when his barista ends up sharing a class with him. But Steve's paranoia gets the best of him– can he really trust his gut?

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.66k

warnings: flirting, fluff, hand holding, closeness, steve is adorable when he's nervous, paranoia, unease, cursing, barista lore™

a/n: had fun writing this one as we build up to friday! i might be switching the days/chapters around in the next few, but we'll see. depends on the depravity of my brain 😈

gif by @paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Thursday.

Learning how to draw, when he already knows how to draw, makes Steve feel bad at drawing.

Sitting in the lecture hall of the art school, he doodles over the half-assed notes he manages to take during the first thirty minutes of class. Usually, he loves Drawing 101; it’s his easiest, only late-night class each week and one of the only times he can relax without worrying about one of the brothers barging in with another stupid homework question. Usually, it's just him, his earbuds turned up a touch too high, and whatever subjects the instructor places in front of him. On Thursday nights, nothing stands between him, an easel, and two straight hours of sketching pots and people.

Except when a said-Thursday night happens to fall on ‘mandatory lecture’ day.

It hasn’t been an hour when Steve gives up trying to force himself to focus, instead choosing to mindlessly doodle over and around the page. The Drawing 101 guest professor continues to drone on about different types of graphite in the pencils kits Steve and twenty-odd other kids in the course were forced to buy. Steve doesn’t understand– nor does he particularly give a shit– as to why a 3H pencil is better over a 3B pencil, or how using an 8B pencil isn’t preferred over a 7B pencil.

A pencil is a fucking pencil.

Steve sighs, failing to stifle a yawn. No amount of coffee– not even the triple espresso concoction his barista had him try earlier that day– could save him from falling asleep in this godforsaken, decades-old room with dimmed lights and sporadically-filled seats scattered amongst the vast sea of empty ones. Honestly, nobody ever came to monthly lectures, save for when their usual professor mentioned the material would be part of their written midterms. Guest lecturers result in a lesser turnout, too, and Steve partially wishes he’d chosen to spend it back at the café or in the library. As the professor continues on to the next type of pencil, the double doors at the back of the room creak open. Still dazed in a bored stupor, Steve cranes his neck over his shoulder to see which unlucky bastard is almost an hour late to the snoozefest.

He immediately wakes up, shooting up in his seat as if a bucket of ice water were splashed on him. He can’t believe what he sees: it’s her. Her. His barista.

Mouth agape, he stares as she slowly closes the doors, careful not to draw too much attention to her late arrival. When nobody bothers to acknowledge her, she makes her way down the carpeted steps of the lecture hall in search of refuge in an empty seat. Her eyes dart across the aisles, desperate for just one, inconspicuous place that will draw the least attention.

As she combs the rows with a furrowed brow and bottom lip slipping adorably between her teeth, Steve realizes he’s got some sort of a chance. Eyes dart to the professor, then back to her. Steve subtly raises a hand, waving to get her attention. Locking eyes, she finally sees him. Relief and surprise replace her bitten lip with a beaming smile. Steve’s heart soars, skipping far more than several beats. He doesn’t– he can’t– take his eyes off her as she quickly shuffles through the row of seats, plopping down next to him and dropping a tote bag at her feet. She pulls out a purple notebook and pen, slouching back into her seat with a relieved sigh, knee brushing gently against Steve’s. A ghost of the sweetest-smelling perfume drifts into his nostrils and he has the urge to replace his oxygen supply with it.

Steve feels like he’s dreaming. Cloud nine, light as a feather, the whole fucking nine yards. He skims over her features in the dim light of the lecture hall– the curve of her lips as she whispers to herself, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find a blank spot; her eyelashes that flick up and down as she copies down the date and class number. He trails down her neck, crossing over the gold bar necklace she wears every day, to her shoulders and arms, her hands. When his eyes drift back up to her face, she’s staring back. Heat blooms in his cheeks and nerves constrict his chest in embarrassment. She smirks, shaking her head and turning her attention to the professor’s current ramblings on B and HB pencils. Steve opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it.

What would he even say? How would he get away with trying to talk to her in the middle of the lecture? The professor would hear him, he’d get called out, everyone would see him–

She huffs, turning to another blank notebook page. Steve side-eyes her as she quietly tears the page out and scribbles something on the first line. Side-eyeing Steve, a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she discreetly slides the paper over to him.

hi stranger.

Steve can’t help but grin. It spills across his lips as more heat blooms, trailing up his ears and down his neck. Trying not to seem too eager, he clicks his own pen and scrawls a response. The professor’s voice fades into background noise, going through one ear and out the other. He’s a goner and so is Steve.

YOURE THE STRANGER, STRANGER

He slides the paper back to her. She scoffs a laugh, smile growing wider.

last minute class drop + switch. u know how it is.

TRUE. DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE AN ART KID

She shakes her head, quickly scribbling when Steve cocks his head, mouthing a ‘what?’

film kid. have to take art class for credit. only one available.

Steve’s surprised at her response, nodding once he thinks it over. It makes sense.

She makes sense.

It fits her. It fits the way she moves, the way she carries herself, the ease in which she comes up with witty comebacks. It’s then and there Steve really thinks about the contrast between the two of them– the way he’s perceived versus how he perceives her. He’s a frat brother, a six-foot-two guy with muscles he doesn’t know how to use yet, and a lifelong artist who doesn’t fit in– no matter how much he tries to claw and fight his way out of the hole people dig and throw him in.

If anything, he doesn’t make sense.

Brow furrowing and jaw set, Steve’s caught in the downward spiral he’s been fighting to keep at bay since coming to Richards– since he pledged his life away to Sigma Theta Beta and the never-ending identity crisis the brothers force upon him every waking moment. But, it’s with her that he feels more like himself than anywhere else in the goddamned world. It’s with her he wants to– willingly– be himself. He wants to be himself with her.

He, however, doesn’t realize the hack job he’s performing on his poor cheek tissue until a soft hand covers his, squeezing lightly. Warmth spreads like wildfire across Steve’s skin, breaking him free and bringing him back to the real world. Concern veils over his barista’s expression; her soft, searching gaze jumps between his baby blues.

‘You okay?’ she mouths, studying him, hand still on his. Her brow twitches upwards when he still doesn’t respond. Steve holds up an index finger and goes back to responding on the paper.

SORRY. LOT ON MY MIND

She nods heavily in agreement.

same. pencildick up there is putting me to sleep. how do you even do it?

Steve bites a laugh back.

DRAWING, COUNTING THE CLOCK

Before she takes it back Steve adds,

AND NOW YOU.

Her smile is bright enough to light up the darkened lecture hall.

Two whole pages are filled by the time class lets out. Front and back.

Steve allows his barista to take the lead in following other students out of the lecture hall. Buzzing conversations reveal a shared eagerness to get the hell out of there and go spend the rest of their Thursday night doing something else more worthy of their precious time. Steve slings his bag over his shoulder as he follows close behind, verbally continuing their written conversation about her shift from earlier in the day and swapping ridiculous ways on how they’ll manage to work every type of pencil into their midterm.

As he plods next to her, Steve fights an innate urge to place a light hand on her lower back to guide her out on their way to the parking lot. Instead, he gets the door, jokingly half-bowing with an outstretched arm to the second set of double doors. Continuing out of the building, Steve takes a breath, deciding now is the perfect time to ask if she’s busy tonight. Instead, though, she stops abruptly. Steve runs directly into her, arms jutting out instinctively to steady both of them out of sheer instinct. Grabbing her shoulders, she spins around to face him, closer to his chest than either realized.

Steve feels his ears turn red again. She looks up at him, blinking before taking a step back, lips parting slightly. An awkward beat hangs in the air before Steve clears his throat and rubs his neck.

"You, uh,” he swallows, preparing himself for the inevitable, “You maybe wanna go grab a bite t’eat, or somethin’?"

Her eyes widen, lips twitching at the corners. She looks like she’s about to answer before quickly realizing something, as if internally scolding herself for even looking excited. Pressing her lips together, her eyes dart back to her phone.

"Shit, I–" she quickly types a response and shoves it back in her pocket, exhaling in frustration.

"What is it?"

"I would love to, Steve. I really would, but," she closes her eyes and sighs, "I can't. My sisters need me back at the house. They said it’s an ‘emergency.’" She adds sarcastic air quotes, rolling her eyes.

"Oh!” Relief fills Steve’s chest, thankful she’s not purposefully blowing him off with some shitty excuse. “Okay, no yeah, I–I totally get it, family can be-"

She smiles softly, shaking her head and taking his hand to run a thumb over his knuckles. The gesture is so casual, so soft, yet it sends goosebumps up Steve’s arm.

"Oh, no. No, they're not my actual sisters. They're, um, my sorority sisters." She flinches as 'sorority' leaves her lips.

Steve blanches, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. He can't help the lopsided smile spreading across his face. He can’t help taking both her hands in his and holding them in excitement. The odds of it– all of it– all the things, of all the people, she’s the one to make him feel less alone. She’s the one that understands everything.

He tries, and fails, to contain his excitement.

"No, I– I completely get it. My frat brothers are insufferable and I'm the newest pledge, so–"

It’s her turn to blanche. "You? You’re a new pledge, too?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I’m required by my scholarship–"

"Oh thank God it's not just me!"

"There's one for sisters, too?" Steve gawks. He’s truly in shock at the audacity of Richards to make any student required to endure the circle of Hell that is Greek life. He squeezes her hands. She matches him.

"Of course there is, meathead,” she snorts. “Title nine, or whatever the hell."

Steve nods. "I can’t tell you how glad I am not to be alone in this. It's fucked up, but maybe not as much now that I know you're in the same boat as me."

He pulls her ever-so-slightly closer. She lets him.

"Guess that makes you the Jack to my Rose."

Steve furrows his bro, cocking his head like a confused puppy.

"Oh God– Don't tell me you've never seen Titanic," she gasps, feigning offense and sending Steve off course, thinking he’s fucked up somehow.

Sarcasm isn’t his strong suit.

"I, uh– no, not that I know of. I–I mean I've heard of the Titanic, but I don't remember the– well I know there's a movie, but I–"

She laughs, full and genuine, stepping forward as her hands leave his, placing one on his shoulder. Her touch is soft, gentle, more comforting than anything he’s ever felt.

"I'll show ya some time. Don't worry."

Squeezing his bicep, her fingertips glide down to his hand, grazing his fingers for the slightest moment before slipping between them, lacing them together. Electricity shoots up Steve's arm. Without another word she leads him out of the building, walking down the sidewalk lit by the moon rising overhead and scattered street lamps illuminating the parking lot.

Steve decides then and there he’ll go wherever she takes him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

She stops at the edge of the parking lot and turns to him. "This is where I leave ya, my car’s over yonder.” She nods to a blue sedan with a Richards sticker on the back windshield sitting underneath one of the street lamps. “Plus, I’d like to save you walkin’ me to my car for another night.”

Butterflies. Steve nods. She scoffs a laugh.

“Text me, meathead. I'll see ya tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow.”

She releases his hand in slow motion and Steve hopes she’s relishing every bit of physical contact with him as he is with her. He heads to his own car parked in the darker side of the lot under the shadows of the perimeter trees and dimmer lamps, swaying languidly and ambling across the pavement in a trance. Steve makes a note to himself: watch more movies, because he sure feels like he's in one.

The trance is broken when a split second of what sounds like a scream echoes over the lot and is snuffed out just as abruptly as it started.

Steve freezes, key halfway into unlocking the driver’s side door. Ears prick up, breath held firm in his chest. Turning over his shoulder, he gasps, startled as a blue car– her car– slowly backs out from under the streetlamp and exits onto the road casually. Steve watches it disappear from view. The sound of the engine gunning it down the road leaves Steve alone in the dark, a sick uneasiness pooling in his gut.

He gets in his car, tossing his bag into the passenger seat and pulling out his phone.

You okay? Did you hear that?

Steve turns the engine over and throws the car into drive, foot hard on the brake before checking her text back.

Hear what? I’m okay! :)

The uneasiness doesn’t leave him. She doesn’t usually text like that.

“Fuck, get a grip, Steve,” he mutters to himself, resting his head against the steering wheel. He takes a second to gather himself and calm his nerves. The paranoia he’s been trained to feel thanks to his brothers, in combination with the fear of fucking everything up with his barista tonight, must be mixing together and clashing against every active nerve in his body. He’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s obviously driving right now, of course she wouldn’t fucking text how she normally does. She’s probably using voice text. Calm. Down.

Steve sends another text before tossing his phone into the passenger’s seat, the unease refusing to dissipate. He turns on the radio, turning up the song blasting from the speakers in a sorry attempt to silence his racing thoughts.

No big deal. Get home safe.

His phone stays silent the rest of the night. It stays silent as he gets home, as he throws a bowl of ramen together, as he throws himself onto his bed and flips open his laptop to watch some random brainrot he finds on Netflix.

He nods off, letting himself be taken by exhaustion as the uneaten bowl of ramen sits on his desk, growing colder, while the dim computer light and hum of dialogue pull Steve further and further into a dreamless sleep.

His phone dies silently in his hand.

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nova--spark · 1 year ago

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Earth 101: A Manual for the Visiting Cybertronian

Chapter Two : Earth Weather

Earth, with its vast biomes and diverse terrains, has a variety of weather patterns that can change drastically from day to day, and have particular seasons with which they are often divided.

This has also been the cause of …particular issues for the newcomer Cybertronian, as the climate can have adverse effects on our biomechanics.

As a gentle reminder, please be sure to thank your medic when leaving the med bay after repairs.A bottle or two of high-grade Energon also goes a long way.

Divided into the Northern and Southern hemispheres, Earth cycles through 4 seasons, each with their own type of weather.

The four seasons by which the planet goes through, as labeled as:

Spring : Temperate to warm weather, usually brings the thawing of winter and replenishing of flora and fauna alike.

Summer: The warmest of the seasons, the planting of crops and their growth occurs here, as well as many an activity in the sun

Fall or Autumn: Harvest season, known to be the beginning of a cooling in the weather and when most flora experience a change in color to prepare for the next season.

Winter: The coldest of the seasons, this season is also known as the ‘holiday season’ due to many Earth holidays occurring during the jours, or rather, Terran months it overlaps.

These seasons last roughly 3 months each, but due to changes in the Earth’s ozone layer in a phenomenon known as ‘global warming’, which has caused quite severe changes to the climate of Earth in some places.

Primus help them, we can only hope this does not continue with our presence here.

The Northern hemisphere is known to host generally colder climates, whilst the Southern hemisphere hosts warmer climates.

The planet’s equator is the centralized area of its warmest zone.

This said, interestingly enough, when it is summer in one hemisphere, it is often winter in the other, in a rather fascinating exchange!

They oppose each other, meaning that through the 3 months it is the opposite season in the other region.

The equator tends to average around the same weather all of the orbital cycle, known as a year, around the

Truly intriguing, the various weather patterns of Earth.

Earth is known to have various forms of weather, ranging from sunny days, cloudy, foggy, rainy or even snow.

That said, Earth weather can also be quite dangerous.

Storms such as hurricanes, tsunamis, tropical storms, and blizzards can devastate entire sections of Earth, and even wipe entire cities off the map.

We have witnessed some of these devastating incidents.

We only hope that humans can find peace after these tragedies.

With each type of weather of course, come certain rules and warnings about potential hazards that could occur.

For example, not even the greatest of the Autobots is immune to the icy roads of the northernmost parts of the world, as our beloved Prime informed us after he spun out due to a particularly vicious patch of black ice amidst a snow storm.

Luckily no harm was done, as he crashed into the snow on the roadside. All that was harmed was perhaps his dignity when he informed us about the incident in a kind reminder to not repeat his actions, so as to avoid harm to ourselves and to others on the road.

Ever so watchful is he.

The same cannot be said for …others within our ranks however.

Incidents with wild weather reported for documentation within this field guide are as follows:

A scientist studying the weather patterns of Earth amidst a particularly wild storm learned what the function of the aptly named lightning rod was. By becoming one involuntarily. Thankfully, said patient now seeks shelter when such storms come to pass.

One of our scouts learned the hard way that driving through fog can be a disorienting and frightening experience. It is not for the faint of Spark. Proceed with caution

Hailstorms. Spheres of ice sometimes the size of Scraplets that falls from the skies. It is as terrifying as it sounds.

One too many Autobot and Con alike have tried to become what is known on Earth as 'storm chasers'. Medical Officer Ratchet implores that the next to attempt such, will only learn from being swirled within a tornado and that the damage from such an event is very tedious to repair.

Please do not attempt to drive through flooded areas after heavy rains. Your engine will become full of water and proceed to stall. It is not worth splashing each other to have this happen.

High winds can push even the largest of us off the road. And we do mean this literally.

We advise parking indoors when choosing to remain in vehicle mode or keeping your heating on when in cold weather. Your vehicle mode can in fact be encased in ice entirely if not careful. It is as annoying and freezing as it sounds.

For those who are flight inclined, be they Decepticon, Autobot or neutral, be aware of snow, rain, lightning, hail, and more, as they can blind the pilot if particularly severe. Even the well known Starscream has been known to crash land due to hail and sleet causing less than optimal flying conditions.

Heatwaves [No we do not mean the Sigma-17 leader, Heatwave] can be cause for our biomechs to overheat and falter, requiring significant cooling, as there have in fact been cases of engines catching on fire or outright shutting down from the intense heat.

Beware of blizzards, as we do not wish anyone to freeze within the piles of snow known to loosen in this.

Earthquakes can cause catastrophic chains of events to occur. Please be aware that aftershocks may occur afterwards.

The rescue team known as Sigma-17 has told us of a good many weather incidents like those mentioned within this chapter. Their testimony was vital for this chapter, and we thank them for their duty in rescue operations of all manner.

Please be sure to contact an official, medic or rescue service in the event of an emergency or accident, no matter the severity.

This concludes our initial overview of Earth Weather and Climates. Direct appropriate queries to the proper channels for more information.

#earth 101 : a manual for the visiting cybertronian #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tf prime #maccadam #maccadams #tf bayverse #tf rid 2015 #tf rid15 #tf rescue bots #rescue bots #transformers rescue bots #rescue bots academy #tf rescue bots academy #nova writings #nova notes

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basicsofislam · 1 month ago

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ISLAM 101: CONVEYING THE MESSAGE OF ISLAM: Part 9

7. Reckoning

The highest person among those who always lead their lives in a constant feeling of reckoning and responsibility is the Master of the Universe. He knew what a heavy burden was slavery and with that consciousness, he always tried to make himself ready for the day of reckoning. He called his umma’s attention to the issue as follows: "Bring yourself to account before you are taken to account." The great reckoning will definitely be very tough. We must prepare for that day. I want to present you a talk between our Prophet and Hazrat Aisha regarding the issue. Once, the Master of the Universe (pbuh) went to Hazrat Aisha and saw her weeping; he asked her, “What makes you weep, O Aisha?” Hazrat Aisha says: "O Messenger of Allah! I thought about the Day of Judgment and the fear of that day made me weep. Will you remember your family on that day? The Messenger of Allah answered: "Oh Aisha! There are three places where nobody can remember others. They are when the Books of Deeds are delivered, when the deeds are weighed and when passing the Sirat Bridge." Then, everybody will wonder whether their books of deeds will be given from their right, left or back. When the deeds are weighed, they will wonder if their rewards or sins will outweigh and whether they will be able to pass the Sirat and attain Paradise and Jamalullah (the face of Allah); they will wonder if their feet will slip and they will fall down to the depths of Hell.

Our Prophet (pbuh) calls the attention of his umma by addressing his own relatives about preparing for that fearful day as follows:

O sons of Abdimanaf! Try to save your souls that are in the hand of Allah because I cannot do anything for you.

The Messenger of Allah narrows the circle and continues to address his own tribe as follows: O sons of Hashim! Try to save your souls that are in the hand of Allah because I cannot do anything for you, either.

The Messenger of Allah narrows the circle some more and says the same things for his uncle Abbas, aunt Safiyya and daughter Fatima.

We understand from those remarks that it is necessary to prepare for the hereafter before going there. Paradise and Jamalullah are gained in the world not in the hereafter. The following is a hadith of our Prophet "The world is the field of the hereafter." (Aliyyulkari, al-Masnu' 1:135; al-Ajluni, Kashful-khafa 1:1320) We will reap in the harvest of the hereafter whatever we sow in this world.

The Master of the two worlds, who had great difficulty under the burden of slavery said: "The Chapters Hud, al-Waqia and al-Mursalat made me old. He was ordered: " Therefore, stand firm (in the straight path) as thou art commanded." (Hud, 11/112). That firmness in the straight path was what God Almighty had prescribed for His messenger. He was asked to maintain that straight path...

In the chapter al-Mursalat, it is stated that people are divided into groups for Paradise and Hell and that they bent double due to fear. ln chapter al-Waqia, those groups were displayed. What was narrated in those chapters terrified the Messenger of Allah and made him old... (Abdullah 1997, 2:475)

The companions of the prophet, who had so much difficulty due to the feelings of responsibility and reckoning, led a very meticulous life and serve as examples to us. Hazrat Abu Bakr continued to milk the sheep of his neighbour to earn his living even after he was elected as caliph. However, as a result of the insistence of Hazrat Umar and other companions, he decided to give up milking the sheep in order not to delay the work of the state and agreed to get a small salary. He left a small earthenware jar and a letter to be given to the caliph after his death. When they opened the jar, they found small coins and a note. The note read as follows: "The money you allocated for me remained on some days. I felt ashamed of Allah to spend it because it was the money of the people.” Hazrat Umar started to weep when he saw it and said, "You left us a life which is impossible to lead."

Hazrat Umar led a life to be taken as an example too. His life was accepted as a model even by non-Muslims. Mahatma Gandhi, the founder of India who lived centuries after him, addressed his nations as follows: "O my people. I promise you a just administration like the administration of Umar of Muslims."

They led their lives with that consciousness and comprehension, enlightening our way. What we need to do is to follow that enlightened path as Muslims and to take over their inheritance.

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teenageread · 1 year ago

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Review: The Sun and Her Flowers

Synopsis:

From Rupi Kaur, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of milk and honey, comes her long-awaited second collection of poetry. A vibrant and transcendent journey about growth and healing. Ancestry and honoring one’s roots. Expatriation and rising up to find a home within yourself.

Divided into five chapters and illustrated by Kaur, the sun and her flowers is a journey of wilting, falling, rooting, rising, and blooming. A celebration of love in all its forms.

this is the recipe of life

said my mother

as she held me in her arms as i wept

think of those flowers you plant

in the garden each year

they will teach you

that people too

must wilt

fall

root

rise

in order to bloom

Plot:

*Trigger Warnings: Abuse (sexual)*

The poems are divided into the five chapters of a flower’s life. From the wilting of the old one, to the feeling and rooting for another, the rising and then the blooming, begin the cycle once again. From sexual abuse, abuse, sexual desire, femininity, the standards of beauty, and immigration, this collection of poems ranges from one liners to a few pages long. Her poems can drive a truckload of feelings to you with only a few words like: “Yes / it is possible / to hate and love someone / at the same time / i do it to myself / every day” (101). All in lowercase, this book shows a soft side to this novel, as Rupi Kaur is not preaching, or yelling her story, but explaining it softly in as few words as possible, to those who want to know how to deal.

Thoughts:

There are two people in the world: those who think this is poetry, and those who do not. Like most two-sided things, a lot of people fall in the middle, which is where Rupi Kaur’s poetry is. It does not follow any of the formats people learn, but a free style poetry that can look easy depending on how good of a writer you are. Some of her poems will make the cynical roll their eyes like this one: “Together we are an endless conversation” (185). The lover birds will fall head over heels for this poem: “I will welcome / a partner / who is my equal” (159). Overall love them or hate them, Kaur definitely knows how to write. This book is larger than her previous one: Milk and Honey, which she self-published and then it hit the mainstream and became big. This one also had more of a story poem to it, with the black borders having a beginning, middle and end taking up several pages. From the pains of heartbreak, desire of new love, to her parent's immigration story, Kaur let people inside her mind, letting them know it is okay not to be okay, and that they are perfect no matter who they are, or what they look like.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

#The Sun and Her Flower #Rupi Kaur #book review

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therealvinelle · 3 years ago

Note

Maybe this is bold of me to ask, but are there any deleted scenes from your fics, or scenes you had consideted writing but didn't? And if yes, would you be willing to share them someday?

Oh no problem!

Usually when a scene is deleted it stays deleted, so I don't have a lot to give you. There are a few things that were cut in betaing for various reasons, I can put a few of them below a readmore in this post.

There's the prologue that never was to Nebuchadnezzar's Dream, from back when the fic was supposed to be told alternately from Bella and Carlisle's respective points of view. In the prologue we saw how Bella, Alice, and Edward came to the point where they decided to overthrow the Volturi. Or, we would have, except I didn't actually like that prologue, and found myself jumping straight to writing chapter 2, the "Carlisle is at a party and gets attacked by a werewolf" chapter instead. My good beta @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin asked why I didn't simply make the whole fic from Carlisle's point of view, I realized she had an excellent point, now here we are.

For that matter, this is nowhere near the only significant change that happened to this fic during writing. One example, in the original outline I never brought up Carlisle's gift. Two significant things in the last chapter were not planned until after I published chapters twelve and thirteen, respectively (Luckily for me it'll look like I plotted them all along, so yay for that). For a tightly plotted fic, this one has had a lot of leeway.

Slight caveat, as I’m self-conscious: with most of these you will probably be able to tell why they’re deleted scenes. Especially the prologue. God, that prologue.

(Also, for the record yes I do write other things, but due to 1. being betaed, and 2. being long, I really only have examples for Nebuchadnezzar's Dream.)

The prologue that never was. Apologies for the fluff saturation:

The Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II once had a dream.

There was a statue that was gold on top, then silver, then copper, then iron, then clay and iron. As he watched, a rock struck its feet, and soon the whole statue crumbled, leaving nothing but rubble. The rock then grew into a great mountain that covered all the world.

This, the prophet Daniel told the king, was a message from Jehovah.

The statue represented five great human empires, the golden head being the Babylonian Empire, and the following three being those who would come after. The last would be both iron and clay, a divided kingdom. It will fall, and then the kingdom of Heaven will come, crushing those empires in its path.

Thousands of years later, in 1453, the Byzantine Empire fell. The last of the Roman Empire, a divided kingdom, had fallen.

The Christian world trembled, because reckoning was surely near. With the fall of this last, great human empire, all the world would fall to rubble.

Fifteen years had passed.

The Cullens had left Forks behind, settling in the small town of Grafton, Idaho. Carlisle had quickly settled into the new hospital, and Esme had designed a beautiful new home for them while the rest attended the new school. Jasper and Rosalie were Carlisle’s younger siblings while Bella, Edward, Renesmée and Esme comprised another set of siblings. Alice and Emmett were the fosters.

Jacob wasn’t far, he still lived with his old .

«Did you hear they all scored an A on Mr Rosen’s test? Seriously, all of them!»

The words were uttered by Jenna Gilbert, a blonde sophomore who reminded Bella very much of Jessica Stanley. She was sitting on the opposite end of the cafeteria from Bella and her family, though

«Jen, it’s the Cullens, that’s just what they do. You should stop comparing yourself…» her friend said soothingly.

Bella ducked her face into her hand to hide her smile, and winked at Alice, who grinned back at her.

It was Bella and Renesmée’s first time going to high school as a vampire. It was exactly what Edward and Alice had said it would be, for better and for worse.

For the worse, because she spent her days pretending to be a human girl, never using her strength or speed, pretending Edward wasn’t her husband and Renesmée wasn’t her daughter.

For the better, because she got to spend every day with Edward, Renesmée, and the rest of her new family. The others had done the high school routine too many times to see things the way she did, and Renesmée had never known a life without the Cullens, but to Bella, attending high school as one of Dr. Cullen’s adoptive kids felt like she had truly come full circle since that first day she spotted Edward in the cafeteria. She was one of them, truly, irrevocably, and high school was nothing if not a promise of the countless years to come surrounded by the people she loved.

Edward caught her eye, and she smiled back at him. She lowered her shield briefly to show him how happy she was to be with her family.

His face softened into that beautiful, lop-sided smile of his, and he leaned in to whisper into her ear, «You’ll be less happy when you’ve been through English 101,» he said.

«Hey, hey,» Jasper said quickly. «Don’t you dare, Edward, I need all the happiness I can get in this place.» He locked eyes with Bella. «Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.»

Bella laughed, and rested her head on Edward’s shoulder. He placed his hand above hers on the table, and she smiled. «Not a problem, Jazz.»

Jenna’s voice caught her notice again. «Look at how they’re sitting! Try and tell me they’re not incestuous, Cam. Just try.»

Her friend didn’t reply to that one, although a quick glance informed Bella that the girl was staring at the Cullen table with a frown on her face.

Bella and Alice caught each others’ eye again, and this time they couldn’t hold back the giggles.

***********

Later in the day, Alice’s eyes lit up. «You’ll receive a letter from Stefan and Vladimir a week from now,» she chirped.

«Oh!» Bella exclaimed. «What does it say?»

«The usual,» Alice replied, her eyes slightly distant as she concentrated. «They hope we’re all doing well, and they included a new story of how things used to be before the Volturi. It’s the story of how they once built an entire temple for themselves in just one day. Oh, and they have a new phone number. O-seven nine six five nine six.»

Bella’s eyes widened as Alice talked. She hoped they had included drawings of that temple, it sounded incredible.

Bella hadn’t expected the Romanians to stay in touch, when they left after the thwarted battle with the Volturi she thought they would slink back into the old European shadows they had cloaked themselves in for that past several thousand few years, not to be heard from until some new threat to the Volturi loomed.

But no, that very next Christmas Bella had received a gift from them. It was an old, if flaked painting of Ivan the Terrible looking a lot like Vladimir, and a note from Vladimir explaining how he fooled all of Russia into believing he was their ruler for decades, all right beneath Aro’s nose. Carlisle had broken into a fit of uncharacteristic giggles when he heard that, and even agreed to put the painting in the hallway. To this day, he’d huff with silent laughter whenever he walked past it.

After that, Bella and the two Romanians had been in touch. They’d send her gifts, stories, and their own observations about the Volturi, and she’d respond fondly.

It was a very unlikely friendship, but she was was eternally grateful to all those who had stood with her family when the Volturi came. The Romanians were no exception,

«Are you going to call them?» Alice inquired.

Bella nodded. «They were going to tell me about their visit to Thebes.»

(Outline: Prologue of sorts. Status quo update, everyone’s happy except for the part where the Volturi are waiting to kill them. Alice, Bella, and Edward form their plan. Alice sees that she’s going to have to send Carlisle away, and coincidentally his hospital colleagues are having their Christmas weekend in Montana. PERFECT. She talks to him.)

***********

Heavily altered scene from chapter 7

Carlisle makes more jokes than he did in the final product, they're unfunny to the point where my beta said "you can't publish this", the plague joke in particular is a bit too dark for him so I gave it to Jane instead. More importantly, the chapter itself has a very weird, clunky start:

«Is it the gift of being profoundly unimpressed by ridiculous claims?» Carlisle deadpanned. «Because if so, Aro, I think you might be on to something.»

Several seconds had passed since Aro made his ridiculous claim. At first, Carlisle had burst out laughing. Then, as he realized he was the only person in the room laughing and Aro was staring at him in full seriousness, his laughter had trailed off and he’d been left to stare dully at Aro for several long seconds, waiting for Aro to crack up and say «gotcha!».

Aro never cracked up.

Carlisle had absolutely no idea what Aro was playing at, especially not immediately after Carlisle had very reluctantly decided against shutting him out of his life.

«You can’t be serious,» he’d said.

Aro had sighed. «I’m afraid I am.»

And now, at Carlisle’s deadpan guess, Aro only shook his head. «Not quite.»

Carlisle stared at him for another second, before he ventured another, scathing guess. «Are you hoping it’s the power of being highly suggestible? Because I definitely don’t have that, or I would have abandoned my diet centuries centuries ago.»

Aro just looked at him. «If you would let me explain-» he began, but Carlisle cut him off.

«No, no, you want to try and convince me I have some sort of gift, then I want to guess at what you’re going for,» he said, crossing his legs at the knee and propping his chin up on his knuckle in a faux-pensive look.

«Now,» he continued, even as Aro gave him the world’s most unimpressed glare, as if Carlisle was the one who was being ridiculous, «I’m pretty sure I would have noticed the power to throw fireballs by now, so it can’t be that,» he mused aloud. «Same goes for the power of…» he searched his mind, «turning into a bat. That one would definitely have come up at some point. Or maybe I should suspend myself upside down in a cave. See if it triggers anything. Just to be sure.»

«Carlisle,» Aro murmured, but Carlisle wasn’t done.

«Maybe I spread disease. My father certainly thought demons did. Maybe that’s why I get so many interesting patients. Those brain fungi,» he nodded towards Renata, who was still sitting with the book open in her lap, «I’ve had two in one year. That’s a lot.»

«Carlisle-» Aro tried again, but Carlisle held up a finger, a wide grin spreading across his face.

«The power to change my eye color. You see, yesterday they were black-»

Aro actually rolled his eyes at that. Of course, he made the insolent gesture look like a fluid, enchanting movement.

«Yes, quite funny, now if you would let me explain…» Aro tried again while Carlisle tried not to snicker at his own joke.

***********

Two deleted paragraphs from chapter 9. The alteration was made because it was a bit on the nose about what Renesmée does.

Humans were mammals, and mammals were hardwired to protect their young. This extended across species, making mother cats care for puppies and humans care for anything that was small and cute. The instinct to love and cherish anything cute and helpless was an evolutionary necessity, and had to run deeper than anything if a species wanted to survive.

Enter Jane, who was the smallest, cutest thing Carlisle had ever seen, but from a species humans instinctively knew to fear. Maybe the very fact that she was something that humans knew they should want to care for made their fear exponential, made it impossible to deny that something was very wrong about her, that they were looking at a predator.

Perhaps too there was something to vampires having retained some of that human instinct to protect their young, if the countless stories of covens dying to protect their immortal children was anything to go by. Carlisle himself had been no exception when the Volturi came for Renesmée, even as he found himself risking the lives of countless friends.

How far things had come, he thought, from preparing to die along with his loved ones at the hands of the Volturi to sitting across a café table with Jane and pitching costume ideas.

***********

Chapter 9 was heavily altered, mainly as it was too funny the first (and second!) time around and I kept having to return to insert more existential dread. A side effect of this is that Carlisle in the original draft was still undecided on whether he had a gift up until the very end of the chapter, whereas it's proven beyond a doubt much earlier in the published version.

Jane was looking a bit daunted, though it was nothing compared to how Carlisle felt.

Silently, they went to stand in front of one of the many sports stores that Whitefish had to offer.

«This could still be confirmation bias,» Carlisle whispered, and leaned against the wall. For all the human blood that was in his system, his knees felt oddly weak.

Jane let out a startled laugh. «You’re seriously still in denial?»

Carlisle shook his head quietly. «They reacted pretty reasonably, just because they didn’t run away screaming…»

«Reasonably?» Jane echoed dully. «Carlisle, you can’t actually…» she shook her head. «Remember that bubble we talked about?»

Carlisle put his head in his hands, and let his fingers move up, under the wig, pulling it off in one neat motion.

Jane shook her head at him. «You look even more glamorous with your real hair.»

Carlisle still said nothing, balling the wig together in his hands.

Could it be he actually had a gift?

***********

The chapter 11 outline originally had Renata and Carlisle failing to communicate like normal people because they've spent too much time with Aro, and unintentional innuendo keeps ruining their attempts to make polite small talk. Sadly (or happily) this is a lot easier to conceptualize than carry out in actual writing, and their conversation wound up being far too serious for that, so it was cut. Luckily for you I did pen Carlisle flashbacking to a time his foot got in his mouth:

The moment after the words were out her face scrunched up.

Carlisle snorted. «Aro is a horrible influence on us all.»

He remembered one of his first talks with Jasper, when they were still getting to know each other.

Jasper had been a little starstruck when he learned Carlisle’s friends in Italy were those Italians.

He’d asked Carlisle a lot of questions once he got past a misplaced sense of awe, wanting to put a face to the eternal, petrified, leaders of the vampire world.

During a hunt with just the two of them, Jasper had been asking about Aro’s gift.

«What do you even think about when you’re with him?» Jasper had marvelled aloud, and he would later explain that the way he say it, this was like the way the Egyptian gods supposedly measured souls.

Place your heart upon the balancing scale against the weight of a feather, and if your heart weighs heavier it is devoured by the demon Ammit.

Place your hand in Aro’s, and if he deems you guilty of breaking his law, you will be torn to pieces in the space of a second.

Being friends with the man sounded unbearably stressful to Jasper.

Unfortunately, Carlisle’s mind had gone in the opposite direction, and what came out of his mouth before he could stop himself was, «England.»

He’d covered well enough for that, or he hoped he had. Jasper never asked.

***********

Chapter 11 was also supposed to have Renata being brave enough to ask for a selfie with Carlisle when they're both in black robes, this because I just really want Edward to sift through the Volturi group chat after all this and finding that. Alas, I couldn't work it in there. (Determined to not lose the joke, I had Aro take the photos in chapter 12 instead.)

***********

Chapter 12, the fandom ghost requested I include another butt slap and offered me fanart if I fulfilled her wish.

And so:

He held up a hand, presumably to touch Carlisle’s arm in comfort, but just then Alec started retching.

«He ate human food,» Jane deadpanned to Demetri, Felix, and Renata. Shaking her head, she brushed Alec’s hair out of his face as he hurled into the river.

Aro grimaced slightly, his hand hovering in the air.

Carlisle felt all the bread, corn flakes, and water that he’d swallowed press uncomfortably against his esophagus. «I’ll do you one better, Alec,» he choked, before he span around, fell to his knees and started retching, much like a cat.

Aro, evidently not sure what to do with his arm but not about to let it drop purposelessly, gave Carlisle a supportive pat on the bum before kneeling beside him to hold his hair as he hurled.

It was funny, but simply didn't fit the tone considering what happened after. It had to go. But hey, I got the art.

#there's more but these are the things that came to mind #my fic #nebuchadnezzar's dream #fic spoilers #of sorts kinda #doktrajediscovery

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amy-issen · 4 years ago

Audio

ok so here it is!! i spent the last week solely making and listening to this playlist like i was POSSESED because this ship is lovely and deserved a nice playlist! if anyone wants to know why i picked each song, i’m going to ramble about it extensively in the read more, so check that out if you want! hope you enjoy it! also thanks again to @birbwell for letting me use her art for the cover!

i divided this playlist in a few sections so let’s start with the first one (section one: first meeting/pining) i. in the rain - joe hisaishi i wanted to start with a short instrumental track to set the mood, and i looooove howl’s moving castle score, so i had to pick this one! the fact that it has rain in the title also helps to reference how their relationship began! ii. with every breath i take - frank sinatra “every breath that I take is a prayer that i’ll make you mine” my sister is a big sinatra/jazz fan (and also a yakuza fan) so she helped me with picking a few of the songs here! this one is very romantic, elegant and beautiful and i thought it fit the mood (and it’s what i think tachibana listens to in his free time lmao).

iii. gold rush - taylor swift “what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominoes my mind turns your life into folklore i can't dare to dream about you anymore” this one is my FAVORITE song on this playlist, and one of the first i picked because this song just fits them like a glove. it’s basically pining 101, and i love that what taylor said this song is about “daydreaming about someone then snapping out of it.” i feel like the first part could be from tachibana’s perspective and the second one from kiryu’s (also giving a bit of a glimpse into the future, with the mention of a coastal town they’ll never find together) iv. first love/late spring - mitski “so please, hurry, leave me, i can't breathe please don't say you love me mune ga hachikire-sōde (my heart seems like it’s going to burst)” this one was another song i picked very early on because i love mitski, and i needed to include her here. i just wanted something to symbolize the trust that tachibana and kiryu have to share to work together, and the feelings that emerge from it, if that makes any sense. i don’t think this has a specific perspective, because i feel like this could work from both kiryu’s and tachibana’s (mostly kiryu though) v. real estate - adam melchor “every time I wonder how i'd carry on without you i'm runnin' out of real estate tryna make all the right moves i don't wanna hesitate i would bet the house on you “ do you UNDERSTAND how satisfying it was to find a song named real estate for them?? come ooon. ok that’s not all of my reasoning for it but it’s like. most of it, lmao another song i felt was about trust and feelings. (also a bit of a glimpse into the future, because i’m sad) vi. i get a kick out of you - ella fitzgerald “i get no kick from champagne mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all so tell me why should it be true that i get a kick out of you?” another one my sister recommended. i originally was gonna go with sinatra’s version of this, but i love this one and it just wouldn’t leave my brain. again, one from mostly tachibana’s perspective, get this man to sing this on karaoke night right now. vii. like real people do - hozier “i will not ask you where you came from i would not ask and neither would you honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips we could just kiss like real people do” this is one of my all time favorites from hozier and, again, it just fit perfectly. tachibana and kiryu have both lived some very... troubled lives so far, and while they’re depending on this trust they have in eachother, none of them really care to know about what they’ve done or who they are. this is mostly from kiryu’s perspective, specially with this metaphor of being rescued/dug up from the earth with the whole being found in the rain and saved by tachibana and his poor driving skills. viii. delicate - taylor swift “this ain't for the best my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me... we can't make any promises now, can we, babe? but you can make me a drink” y’all are going to have to forgive me for picking TWO taylor swift songs but COME OOOON this is another one that i picked early on because i could draw so many parallels between the lyrics and things that they both said in that car scene on chapter 9 (mostly tachibana though) and i kept harassing my sister with screenshots to prove my point and i’m gonna do it again

ANYWAYS i’ve made my case, and now we enter the second section of the playlist at last ( section 2: actual romantic/fluffy songs because this is a ship playlist) i. good old-fashioned lover boy - queen “dining at the ritz we'll meet at nine (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 o'clock) precisely i will pay the bill, you taste the wine driving back in style in my saloon will do quite nicely just take me back to yours that will be fine” is this a bit of a cliché? yes. did i want to include it because it’s very cute and i’d like to imagine kiryu and tachibana having a nice date night with no people trying to kill them all the time? also yes. i love this song.

ii. stay with me/mayonaka no door - miki matsuraba “you in your gray jacket with that oh-so-familiar coffee stain just as you always are the two of us reflect in the window display stay with me knocking on midnight's door i beg you not to go home tonight” (translated lyrics) is anyone not obsessed with this song lately? this is the only song here i’m blaming tiktok for making me listen to it lol. in any way, this song is deceptive because it sounds really happy but is actually quite melancholic. i thought it fit their relationship well, and it seemed like a good addition to the playlist with it’s 80′s city pop vibes.

iii. on melancholy hill - gorillaz (covered by matt forbes) “just looking out on the day of another dream where you can't get what you want, but you can get me so let's set out to sea, love 'cause you are my medicine when you're close to me" this is a gorillaz song but i went with this cover because it fit the feeling of the playlist a little better. another song that i just love very deeply and i thought fit the sentiment of kiryu being like “hey i know we have Big problems and you’re very sad in the moment but i’m here for you” iv. (i love you) for sentimental reasons - nat king cole "i think of you every morning dream of you every night darling, i'm never lonely whenever you are in sight" surprisingly, not one that my sister recommended, but one i found for myself while looking for quiet romantic songs. i feel like this is tachibana's reply to kiryu being there for him and helping him. plus, idk i just wanted to imagine them slow dancing to this. v. positions - ariana grande (covered by travis atreo) "perfect, perfect you're too good to be true but I get tired of runnin', fuck it now, i’m runnin' with you" i picked this cover because i felt like using ariana's one would be a little goofy for this section lmao, but i really like this song and how it's about commitment and doing everything to make a relationship work. i just wanted to throw some sexy vibes before this playlist delved into depressing stuff. also if you telling me tachibana wouldn't absolute body a tiktok set to this song you're lying to yourself. (section 3: oh no this is getting sad) i. forever - labrinth "i'll live forever" i love everything labrinth makes, the euphoria soundtrack lives in my mind rent free and this is my favorite one. this barely has any lyrics so, again, mostly a track i picked for its intrumentals and feeling overall. mostly preparing you for the sad stuff ahead. ii. hong kong - gorillaz "you swallow me i'm a pill on your tongue here on the nineteenth floor the neon lights make me calm" this is my favorite gorillaz song, by FAR, and i think it's introspective vibe really fits tachibana's character. not really a song about relationship but i really wanted to include it because it's just such a GORGEOUS song. iii. fragments - severon another instrumental track! this one i stole from a playlist my sister made for a fic i wrote last year. again. sad vibes. iv. sign of the times - harry styles (covered by LANY) "remember everything will be alright we can meet again somewhere somewhere far away from here" i loved the synth-y vibe this cover had, while still keeping this song's sad "our lives are dangerous and i'm about to die" vibes. i mostly wanted to evoke the vibe from the scene where tachibana agrees to go with lao gui after kiryu gets shot. just really sad all around. v. so close - jon mclaughlin "we're so close to reaching that famous happy end almost believing this one's not pretend let's go on dreaming though we know we are so close, so close, and still so far" me? picking a song from disney's enchanted??? for a playlist??? it's more likely than you think. idk this song just gives me that vibe of being so close to being happy and together, almost reminiscing and wondering what could have been. but it just... won't happen. vi. as the world caves in - matt maltese "yes, it's you i welcome death with as the world, as the world caves in" oops, yes, i had to go there. just couldn't resist including this song, and i feel like it's really self-explanatory. vii. places we won't walk - bruno major "neon lights shine bold and bright buildings grow to dizzy heights people come alive at night in places we won't walk" again, i feel like this song speaks for itself. a bit of a meditation on kiryu's perspective on things that could have happened, things they would have done, that kiryu will just have to do alone from now on. viii. carry me out - mitski "i drive when it rains at night, when it rains, i drive and the headlight spirits they lead me down the styx so black it shines and carry me out carry me out"

possibly the saddest and the most powerful song in this playlist, because i just had to put a mitski song again. the image of kiryu carrying tachibana's body is just constantly in my mind when i listen to this, but i could also see this song being from the perspective of tachibana's spirit. ix. arms tonite - mother mother "i died in your arms tonight i slipped through into the afterlife it was nice" lmao this felt a bit like a cruel joke to include, but i didn't want this playlist to end TOO depressingly. it's a nod to tachibana dying in kiryu's arms, sure, but also it's romantic and possibly a little hopeful (tachibana lives au!!! orpheus and eurydice au!!! fuck it, idk!!) xi. everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears "there's a room where the light won't find you holding hands while the walls come tumbling down when they do, i'll be right behind you so glad we've almost made it so sad they had to fade it everybody wants to rule the world" not a recommendation from my sister, but it is her favorite song, and she was happy that i included it. another 80's bop with sad lyrics! i feel like this is a lovely summary of their story together and it feels like a nice little bow to wrap up the playlist. i hope you enjoyed my long ass explanations! i might add songs later (or make an entire second playlist altogether for the fic i'm writing rn, but let's not get ahead of ourselves)

#tachikiryu #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #kazuma kiryu #tetsu tachibana #playlist #audio #THIS IS SUCH A LONG POST I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE ALL THIS ARRRRGH #praying this shows up in the tags lmao

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rainplaysswtor · 3 years ago

Text

Rain Plays SWTOR: Full Index

If you enjoy these guides and find them helpful please like and share!

Player Guides and Tips New Player Tips Surviving Toxic Players Avoiding the Fleet Tatooine Shortcut to Avoid Outlaws Den Rest Up Avoiding Shared Tagging

Tech Fragment Suggestions Decos on a Budget Part 1 Decos on a Budget Part 2 Contending with Bugs Light It Up: Illuminated Armor Avoiding GTN Gouging Preparing for Preferred Preparing for Preferred Pt. 2 Unlocks Worth Considering

Reputation 101 Curing Womp Rat Fever!

Flashpoints A Traitor Among the Chiss Athiss (solo) Hammer Station (solo) Call to Arms #1: Boarding Party Call to Arms #2: The Foundry Spirit of Vengeance Directive 7 The Nathema Conspiracy Crisis on Umbara False Emperor

Other missions Dread Seeds/Seeker Droids Solo Macrobinoculars Solo (most of it) Pt. 1 Macrobinoculars Solo (most of it) Pt. 2 Macrobinoculars - Video of Maki'Voro fight solo Veteran Star Fortresses Veteran Star Fortresses Revisited Veteran Star Fortresses: Exarch Fight Video Veteran Star Fortresses: Exarch Fight 2 Video Mek-Sha Explorer Mek-Sha Tradehouse Missions Saboteur Quests Echoes of Oblivion Galactic Seasons Help Galactic Seasons Help 2 Where to Find Instanced Mobs HK-51 Quest Chain Flirron Friend - Onderon Loyalist and Saboteur Locations More Loyalist and Saboteur Locations

Swoop Bike Rally Extra Area on Ziost KOTET Voss Walker, KOTET Chapter 1 How to Save Bergola and her friends, KOTET chapter 6 Uprisings

Part 1: Firefrost, Fractured, Crimson Fang Part 2: Inferno, Divided We Fall, Trench Runner Part 3: Landing Party, Destroyer of Worlds Pt 4: Trial and Error Uprising Achievements and Finding the Inferno Agent Bosses Defeating Revan (solo, Shadow of Revan fight) HK-47: The Foundry Vaylin: KOTET

Daily areas/Events Oricon Black Hole: End of Torvix Puzzle Rakghoul Tunnels Sensors Matrix Shards Section X: Aurora Cannon Easy/Fun/Pointless Quests

Harlow Ricks The DvL Holocrons Yavin 4 Sensors Companions Optional Companions: Reviews

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magic-marvel · 5 years ago

Text

I Love to Hate You

Chapter 8

Pairing: Peter Parker/Spider-man x Reader

Summary: You don’t know what it is, but seeing him breathe makes you want to punch him in the throat.

Word Count: 1280 (sorry its short ive had such bad writers block)

A/N: im a hot mess yall but i got a surprise coming along with this chapter

WARNING: talks of parental death

“So you gonna give me your evil backstory or what?”

You were strapped back onto the bedpost of the expensive looking bed. Even more so strange, you were bleeding and sweating all over a very expensive looking duvet. The people periodically taking care of you didn’t seem to mind you dirtying the sheets, let alone really caring how frantically you pushed and shoved the wooden post. Scratches and splinters littered the finely polished finish, making a once beautiful peace of woodwork look like something out of a high school woodshop class.

The man in the white suit, which you dubbed “The Voice” since he has yet to give you his real name, was in your room. He sat in an armchair at the corner of the room with his legs crossed and his hand on his chin. He had turned the chair towards you, keeping a scrutinizing glaze on you through his metal framed glasses.

“Oh no, no no.” He kept nodding his head, driving his point further. “This isn’t up to me.”

The Voice waved his hands in the air, signifying the entire situation is not his doing. It was odd, seeing as that he seemingly ordered the men around here. He even walked around the place as if he owned it, so who exactly is really behind this?

“But, my dear, I’ll tell you this,” He pauses, getting up and walking uncomfortably close to your side. He smiles down at you with a much too wide grin, the yellow of his teeth peeking through artificial whitening. “I do enjoy seeing your father suffer.”

He suddenly grabs onto your face, squeezing your cheeks so hard it forces your jaw open. You squirm, kicking as far up as you can reach but fall short of actually hitting him.

“You know, you are a spitting image of your mother.” He turns your face, eyeing different angels as you shout and spasm. None of this deterring him in the slightest.

You began to kick more, forcing your back and legs into uncomfortable positions to even graze him with the toe end of your shoe. You hated how loosely he talked about your mother, as if he knew her.

“You know, despite everything that’s happening, I’m not a complete asshole.” He released your face, backing away before you can flail at him once more. He no longer smiled as he spoke, merely focusing his gaze out the tall window next to the bed. “Your mother was a wonderful woman, shame what happened to her.”

You said nothing.

It hurt, hearing this man tore into your father’s character over and over again, only to have a sudden soft spot for your mother. What she went through was horrendous, a public debacle that ruined your childhood and all memories you had left of her. The person you are now is different than who you would have grown up to be had your mother still been alive. And here this man is, talking so casually about a woman as if he is going you a favor.

He is a complete asshole.

“Well, time is almost up. Let’s hope your father doesn’t make the same mistake twice. It’d really be something if he lost both of you due to his own incompetence.”

He left the room, simply whispering a quick “two hours” to one of his henchmen before closing the door. The sound of the lock clicking was enough to send all the tears falling, choked sobs finally forced themselves out as you attempted to create a now hazy picture of your mother in your head. You couldn’t remember how her nose contoured, how thick or thin her eyebrows were. You barely remembered the curve of her lips, remembering vividly the red of her lipstick.

You were alone, losing the very memory of your mother’s image. It hurt more than any punch or kick you received while under The Voice’s care. Almost hurt as much as losing her that day.

Almost.

“I can’t risk it, Rogers. That’s my kid in there.”

Peter stood by Tony, listening to all the Avengers plan out how they are going to deal with the hostage situation. Everyone was suited up and ready to go in a moments notice, not a single zipper unzipped or lace untied.

Except, for Tony.

“We don’t know what they want with you, what if they kill you!” Steve argued, hoping to change Tony’s mind.

“And what if they kill her.”

The room was silent. No one wanted to consider that outcome, especially with the severity of your physical state in the video. It was a very real possibility and no one in the room wanted to voice it.

Peter had said nothing so far, only listening to everyone argue about what to do. It was very unlike of them to be so divided in their plan of action, especially since they worked so well together that planning never really took more than an hour or so, merely to go over formalities.

But as of right now, everyone has been up and running for 10 hours straight trying to come up with anything that everyone can agree on. The frustration was really beginning to show, especially on Steve’s face. For being team captain, no one really cared for his ranking for who’s plan is best.

The only thing everyone could agree on, however, was that Tony should wear his armor.

He did not agree with that sentiment.

“Listen, I get you want her out the safest way possible, but how are we expected to trust some guy to promise to keep her safe. He hit her on camera without a second thought and yet ‘promised’ her safety? It doesn’t add up.” Natasha chimed in, trying to convince Tony that he shouldn’t keep up his end if they aren’t keeping up theirs.

Peter tapped at his thigh; the metal gauntlet of his Iron Spider suit made a quiet tick tick tick noise against his leg. He didn’t even notice the noise, but then again, no one in the room noticed much when there was a much more pressing matter on their hands.

“I’ll get her out, I’ll even bring out some heads for you to bowl with later.” Bucky spoke up, full war getup. The tick of his upper lip and deep furrow of his brow was a tell that he was holding him back immensely, but Bucky Barnes was willing to let The Winter Soldier out if it meant that you would get home safely.

“That’s a hard no from me, Barnes. We got no info on the inside or security measures. If you go in alone, you might not come back out.” Sam reasoned, reminding the group that there was safety in numbers.

“I need to be the one to go alone, get my girl out and we can go from there.” Tony tried once more to convince the group, but various groans of disapproval shut him down quickly.

Peter was tired. He heard enough from everyone trying to solve this with little to show for it. He felt as if the only way to actually get anything done was to have one person go in quietly and get you out. No one finds out you even left, and no one gets sacrificed.

So, Peter got up from his seat and left the room without turning a single head. F.R.I.D.A.Y. inquired as to why he was leaving the building, but he had Karen hold her off as he set off into the first rooftop. He memorized the address and had a GPS route mapped onto his HUD.

He’ll get you back before they even finish arguing.

Chapter 9

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brother-hermes · 5 years ago

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ESOTERIC CHRISTIANITY 101

When we talk about the rising of the Kundalini we are speaking of spiritual awakening. The common misconception among Christians being that there is no Biblical telling of how this can be achieved. In fact, the general consensus seems to be that the Bible doesn't even speak on different states of consciousness at all. While I was awaiting trial my lawyer suggested I read the Bible as if it were chronicling the different stages in our conscious development. In doing so I quickly uncovered a vast amount of esoteric wisdom in the first three chapters of Genesis alone. Naturally, Solomons teachings sort of just revealed themselves at that point.

Reading of the construction of the Temple urged me to build a Temple within and prepared me to accept Sophia as an Old Testament telling of the Holy Spirit- I was already personally inclined to believe that the nurturing aspect of G-D almost has to be a woman. So, hearing of this Queen of the Sabaeans of Arabia travelling North to meet with this wise King in the Holy City was pretty easy to incorporate. There are so many versions of this story it is unreal. Shakti and Shiva, the Taoists own Husband and Wife in the bedchamber, even the western tradition of the Chemical Wedding speaks of this sacred union.

All of these concepts allude to one thing: Humankind overcoming the duality birthed by our falling to temptation in the Garden of Eden.

Here lies the crux of the mystery. When Jesus said "Blessed is the one who existed before coming into being" he is hinting at a deeper truth. Our end- in the physical plane- returns us to the beginning- in the spiritual plane. See, there are two creation stories in Genesis. There's the first where "God created mankind in His image" we see in Genesis 1:27 that we all think of but somehow manage to misinterpret. We like to translate this into meaning G-D looks like we do and is a carbon based life form. How would G-D be Infinite and beyond all understanding if that were the case? G-D would just be an extra-terrestrial and Ancient Astronaut theory would rule the day. What if we were created in likeness of mind?

That would imply that our consciousness springs fro the Cosmic mind of G-D. Then, and only then can we grasp how our consciousness is interconnected with the Divine. “We are His Sons. We are chosen ones of the Living Father.” This was Jesus message. He was showing us how to move past our dualistic nature into the Cosmic oneness of ALL CREATION. The Kingdom of Heaven and the Garden of Eden become one and the same.

Duality has crippled us. Think of Thomas 61c: “Therefore I say that if one is unified one will be filled with light, but if one is divided one will be filled with darkness.” Moments before, Jesus tells Salome exactly who He was, and who we all are when he said “I am He who comes into being from Him who is the same.”

Nowadays we all run around denying each others beliefs claiming to have exclusive rights on salvation. We all have these beautiful explanations we use to argue each other down and for what? Spiritual superiority? I guess pride really does come before the fall.

See, all of these abstract intellectual concepts actually HINDER our growth. As the idea of YHWH becomes less tuned and less concrete within us that FEELING of being in constant contact with G-D becomes lost. However, G-D... IS...ALIVE... AND WELL... WITHIN... US ALL. Anyone can awaken to that. All it takes is a little bit of spiritual discipline through prayer and meditation. I urge you to start today. Right where you are.

#esoteric christianity #hidden wisdom #occult science #gospel of thomas #gnostic gospel #gnosticism #mysticism #spirituality #long read #inner transformation #spiritual knowledge

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necer0s · 5 years ago

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So I just reread all of Mother of Learning in preparation for the big finale, and boy do I have a lot of Thoughts. So I put them all in one post so as not to spam everyone.

The summer festival planar alignment being an excuse for a huge political/social/academic party makes a lot of sense when you consider that this particular planar alignment is essentially the anniversary of the Ikosian Empire.

Can I just say that the Splinter Wars and everything that goes into them is an absolutely masterful piece of worldbuilding craft? Those combined events set the stage technologically, socially, and politically, at scales large and small.

I really enjoy the Northern Frontier chapters. Whenever I think about an epilogue, I always imagine that eventually Zach and Zorian will move north to settle some patch of land with their incredible skills. I feel that Zach wouldn’t be happy without the adventure, and Zorian would enjoy the relative isolation.

I also really like the mind magic in this series. It has a great set of abilities and limitations. Watching Zorian master those abilities and push those limitations is what makes his progress in the field so enjoyable.

Aranean culture is also fascinating. It’s kind of interesting that we explore a number of different web cultures before we really start exploring the different human cultures.

The foreshadowing in this story really is quite remarkable. Nochka and Raynie, two totally separate people with nothing in common other than being shifters, are both introduced to us in the very first chapter, however passingly. Eventually, Zorian is given completely different reasons to get to know both of them. And by the end, getting their respective stories is not only crucial to understanding the invaders’ plans, but essential to stopping them entirely.

The more I reread, the more I wish I’d read the conversation with the angel a few more times. I still don’t really understand why the angels chose Zach of all people to be at the center of the time loop. If it’s a matter of character, surely his Tragic Backstory should have made him look like a potential danger? With his history, there was always a danger that Zach would decide not to care about Cyoria or something.

You know, during this period where Zach is waiting for Zorian to show up... I wonder what’s going on in his mind? I mean, apparently Zach knows all this time that only one of the two of them can survive. But by the time they meet up again, he seems... antagonistic, maybe, but he’s also determined to get Zorian out of the loop pretty soon after talking to him. Is he hoping that they’ll find a way for both of them to live? Or has he already given up on life at that point?

Seeing the “original” version of the invasion is making me think about how Z&Z will defeat the real invasion. I suspect they might have warded most of the artillery magic targets, for a start... and of course, Zorian’s city-wide mind magic will be devastating.

I really do like Xvim. He’s just such a strong character. And yet we know so little about him! I really hope he doesn’t die at the end of the story.

I have to say, I much prefer when Zorian starts becoming exceptional, rather than merely competent. The basics are fun and all, but it’s undeniably more fun to watch him master more advanced skills like mind magic and dimensionalism.

Zach is such a wonderfully fascinating character. That was true even without the contract reveal, and with that information... he seems so carefree and happy most of the time, but he has such delightful hidden depths. The depression and rage were always sort of there, but it’s only with this new insight that I can see just how good a liar Zach can be. It’s not something you’d expect from him.

Random theory: is the Ghost Serpent a former god? He says that a past Branded One made him “fall”, and if anyone could cause the gods to lose their power and be thus diminished, it would be someone who had been through the full time loop.

I will never stop loving the reveal of how the time loop really works. It’s such a masterful culmination of foreshadowing and worldbuilding. “Time travel is impossible”, “blueprint conjuration”, “Black Room-style time acceleration”... the list goes on. Dozens of little hints and facts and observations all add up to this one revelation.

Zach’s determination to get both of them out of the loop is so bittersweet with the contract revelation. What is he thinking in this moment? Is he resolved to die if it gives them a better chance to save Cyoria? Is he quietly (desperately) hoping that if he saves Zorian, Zorian will somehow save him? It’s honestly heartbreaking.

You know, I’ve thought this before, but I really want Kirielle to end up learning from Silverlake in the epilogue.

Oh yeah, the Sovereign Gate belonged to House Noveda in the past... I wonder if the same is true of the Dagger? Even if it’s only the Gate, it does sort of imply that Zach is a distant descendant of the original Ikosian kings. Which might account for why he was chosen for the time loop...

I know that the story is supposed to be divided to into three Acts, but seeing Act 2 end at chapter 54 when the maybe-final chapter is going to be 101 really makes me think that it’s really a four-act story (partly thanks to later chapters being either longer or more plot-dense than early chapters). Maybe Act 3 should end when Silverlake leaves the time loop? There’s a certain symmetry in having each act end with the revelation that someone has left the loop.

So the gate has sufficient power for a thousand iterations even under the suboptimal conditions of this early activation. That’s... over eighty years. Easily a lifetime. At full power... would you expect to see two lifetimes? Five? Ten? That’s incredible power. And yet, for as relatively little time as they’ve had, Zach and Zorian have sure come a long way. By the end of the time loop, even counting Black Box time, Zach has had just about 40 years, and Zorian has had about... 15? Even with all the advantages of the time loop, it speaks to their talent that they both leave the loop as powerful as they do. For them to be as close behind Quatach-Ichl as they are, when he has almost a thousand years on them... it’s impressive.

I love it when Zach and Zorian start bantering. It’s a lot of fun, of course, but it’s also just... so good for them. It’s the kind of thing that just seems really healthy for both of them after how long they’ve been effectively isolated.

Have I mentioned recently that I love Xvim? He’s so totally down with Zorian being a powerful mind mage.

The reveal that Quatach-Ichl is wearing the Crown is such a delightfully sadistic moment. Like, you knew that gathering the Key was never going to be easy, but they went ahead and put the single greatest possible obstacle right at the start.

The Dragon Cult being worried that QI might try to betray them if he knew they were trying to control the primordial seems a lot like foreshadowing... as does Alanic saying that knowing the simulacrum spell is half of what you need to be a lich.

Daimen and Zorian meeting each other for the first time in so long is another one of those moments that makes me wish we could get Zach’s viewpoint on all this. Partly because I’d love a neutral perspective on their interactions, and partly because... what must he be feeling, as someone who lost all his family so long ago?

The wraith bombs are such a wonderfully horrible development. Not only are they about the most disturbing weapon imaginable, they make horrifically perfect sense in this setting. The perfect fantasy nuke.

The fact that the invasion is actually cancelled after the Ibasan Gate is stolen seems like a fairly significant point to me. (Especially since it happens before Silverlake joined the team, meaning she may not know about it.) If one of the first moves in the counter-assault is to shut down the Gate somehow (a sensible option anyway, as it would cut access to Iasku Mansion), there’s an increased chance of Quatach-Ichl deciding to retreat.

...I wonder if Zorian could dominate a couple soulseizer chrysanthemums and use them to fight Quatach-Ichl? They do seem like kind of the perfect option for something like that... I’m just imagining Zorian luring him into a seemingly undefended Noveda garden and then suddenly half a dozen tiny flowers pop out of the ground and try to eat his soul.

With the knowledge that Jornak is Red Robe, it strikes me as important to wonder who exactly it was that screwed him out of his inheritance.

Zorian is such an annoying little brother. I can’t blame him— it’s obviously self-defense against his asshole older brothers— but it is definitely funny.

Boy, every time Zach talks about his future instantly becomes sad when you consider the contract, huh?

Silverlake’s study of the primordials and their prisons is really worrying now that she’s working for the other side. Does she even need the shifter children to release Panaxeth?

You know, Silverlake suggests tracking Quatach-Ichl’s movements to try and find his phylactery, and Alanic agrees, but I don’t remember them ever actually doing that? That’s going to become extremely important by the end of the story. If they could just place the ring’s tracking marker on him, then send him back to his phylactery...

I really do love that dealing with both Quatach-Ichl and Silverlake has serious consequences. Powerful and ancient mages shouldn’t be completely at the mercy of anyone with a time loop, and these two certainly aren’t.

...so the Sovereign Gate can be used as a replacement for the shifter children, right? But the question is— is that true in the outside world as well, or only while it’s “attached” to him to create the time loop? The answer to that question will have a big effect on the final battle. (Could the angels possibly re-attune the Gate to a different primordial? Can the Guardian of the Threshold push Panaxeth back?)

You know, even having seen most of what’s coming, I can’t keep from imagining foreshadowing in everything that happens in this early part after leaving the loop. Like, is Bryn a spy for Jornak? That kind of thing.

Zorian says he has “that one trump card that no one but him knows about”. Boy, what a tantalizing line. Is he talking about bypassing mind blank? Being a lich? A secret spell formula weapon? We just don’t know.

Okay, here’s a thought: how does the contract kill Zach? Is there any way he could survive, like by becoming a lich? Or would it just... erase his soul?

I love that one of the necessary characteristics for the angels choosing Zach is him being dumb enough to agree to a mysterious contract presented by beings in a dream. He’s Stupid Good by design.

You know, most of the angels’ concerns and precautions make sense to me. Zach needs to be good, he needs to be willing (however dubiously), he needs to keep Panaxeth from escaping... but why is it such a big deal to them that no one knows about the time loop? The Sovereign Gate can realistically only be activated by them, and if I understand its function correctly, once Zach went in, no one else was going to be able to use it for another 400 years.

...oh shit, Zorian is going to put the grey Hunter in a box and send it at someone. Silverlake, probably— he knows for a fact that she can’t defeat it, after all.

It’s sort of ironic that Zorian is the one who will probably end up using the most monsters in the final battle, given how heavily the invaders rely on the monsters.

Ah, okay. The Sovereign Gate can’t serve as an alternate key to Panaxeth’s prison. That’s made explicitly clear. So no shifter children... no Panaxeth. (Except now that I’m thinking about it... what about Silverlake and Jornak themselves? They have a pact with Panaxeth and he literally created their bodies... that’s the kind of thing that could easily work.

#mother of learning #zach noveda #zorian kazinski

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unofferable-fic · 6 years ago

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Do You Fear the Devil? (Loki x Reader): 5 - Dear Boss

Summary: You are one of the many working women roaming the streets of Whitechapel when a madman begins to murder your comrades one by one. The attacks are so gruesome, that the detectives can only describe his work as that of “a devil than of a man”. Loki Laufeyson is a Metropolitan police detective and surgeon who is assisting on the case. As more bodies pile up and you and your friends fear for your lives, the police remain well and truly stumped. When Detective Laufeyson turns to you for help to find the murderer, you must face your fears to save yourself… But who can you really trust when you are the prey being stalked at night by someone who calls himself Jack the Ripper?

Gif originally found here

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Victorian London AU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries/violence, gore, language, angst.

Word Count: 4,342

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Playlist: “For Those We Loved” — Austin Wintory, “Graveyard Parade - Acoustic Version” — Matthew And The Atlas, “Abide with Me” — 101 Strings Orchestra

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A/N: Also available on AO3. We are back in action with more from our Victorian Avengers! More historical facts and some perspective swapping between Loki and the reader. I promise they will have more interactions in the future as well ;) Thank you to you guys for reading as always! Hope y’all enjoy!

8th September 1888, 9.30 am.

Dr Laufeyson’s post-mortem report on Annie Chapman read as follows:

“The abdomen had been entirely laid open: the intestines, severed from their mesenteric attachments, had been lifted out of the body and placed on the shoulder of the corpse; whilst from the pelvis, the uterus and its appendages with the upper portion of the vagina and the posterior two thirds of the bladder, had been entirely removed. No trace of these parts could be found and the incisions were cleanly cut, avoiding the rectum, and dividing the vagina low enough to avoid injury to the cervix uteri. Obviously the work was that of an expert — of one, at least, who had such knowledge of anatomical or pathological examinations as to be enabled to secure the pelvic organs with one sweep of the knife, which must therefore have at least 5 or 6 inches in length, probably more. The appearance of the cuts confirmed me in the opinion that the instrument, like the one which divided the neck, had been of a very sharp character. The mode in which the knife had been used seemed to indicate great anatomical knowledge.”

The more he delved into the evidence and pieced together what may have possibly happened to her, Loki found it difficult to continue. Yes, his profession involved looking at the grim and the horrifying, but this killer was pushing the boundaries. Was he perhaps a doctor? It seemed plausible but brought him no sense of comfort.

The remainder of the day gave him no opportunity to rest — between following up with Stark and Strange, and dealing with his own private appointments, sleep was not readily doable until evening had descended upon London. He stood by the window in his home that overlooked the streets below, a glass of gin in hand, and wondered whether he was to be woken again that night by rampant knocking at his door. Would the Leather Apron — the killer’s new name given today by the media — strike the working women of Whitechapel again? His mind briefly wandered to Y/N and her friends before he shook the thought away again. Perhaps, given the day they themselves had experienced, they would be allowed a night of rest instead of working. Then again, he knew little of their practices or the attitude of Madame Potts. He hoped, for their sake and especially given Miss Maximoff’s association with Miss Chapman, that she was an understanding boss.

Between recalling the women with whom he was newly associated, his thoughts also drifted to Annie Chapman. What had she thought of, he wondered, as the life was squeezed out of her? Her parents? Her sisters? Her dead husband and estranged children? From the information provided by Miss Maximoff, the police gathered her life had not been an easy one. Despite marrying a gentleman’s coachman, John Chapman, and moving to a cottage on his employer’s Berkshire estate, the two had succumbed to alcoholism after many of their children grew sick and died. It was a constant up and down period of sobriety before the addiction won yet again. There were, as a result, numerous arrests over public drunkenness. Wanda recalled being told that Annie kept photographs of her children on the mantelpiece. A weekly allowance of ten shillings was supplied by her husband, and she also earned money by selling crochet-work and flowers. When the drink killed John and the allowance stopped, only then had she turned to prostitution and begging. Considered a drunkard and forced to reside in lodging houses, nothing else could be done. After delving further into his post-mortem, it was no surprise to see that she was already aggressively sick. She was far advanced in disease of the lungs and membranes of the brain, and her stomach contained little food, nor were there signs she had consumed any alcohol. It was clear that she was not well fed. If the killer had not gotten to her first, he was sure she would have not lasted much longer…

Even still, this did nothing to ease his mind. The more he thought of what happened, the more unsettled he became. Only when his head began to pound and his hand shook did he down the contents of his glass and try to go to sleep. He shrugged off his clothing and wrapped himself in the blankets as tight as he could. Despite forcefully shoving his head into the pillow, his mind would not relent. Albert Cadosch, a young carpenter living at 27 Hanbury Street, had told police that he heard voices over the fence that separated his yard from that of 29. He had been visiting his outhouse when he heard what he thought sounded like a woman’s voice saying ‘No!’, followed by the thud of something falling against the fence. He chose not to investigate it further.

Was he the only one to hear your screams? And yet, no one came to your aid? No one thought to help as you died?

The headache returned, as well as the stinging in his cheek, and Loki gritted his teeth.

He suppressed the urge to fix himself another gin.

* * *

14th September 1888, 9.00 am.

In the days that followed the murder of Annie Chapman, London was enthralled with who the Leather Apron could be. You watched the play unfold closely, being sure to never leave the brothel unless accompanied by your friends or the police themselves. Wanda had, after some days of mourning, improved. The three of you had been glued to news reports when you were informed that police had arrested a man called John Pizer, the owner of the leather apron found in the yard of 29 Hanbury Street. Believed to be the Leather Apron, you had hoped this meant the end of the Whitechapel murders. It was only when Sgt Rogers informed you that Mr Pizer had credible alibis for both murders did you give up hope. With his release came the revelation that there were no other obvious leads.

On the same day as John Pizer’s arrest, Sgt Rogers was also kind enough to inform you that a local business man, Mr George Lusk, together with several of his comrades, founded the Mile End Vigilance Committee. Their hope was to assist the police with their endeavours to catch the murderer. How that was going to play out, you had no clue, but more help was always welcome. If it meant that you and your friends could safely traverse the streets without fear of being strangled then you would take what you could get.

That Friday morning, you found yourself in the Manor Park Cemetery on Sebert Road with Natasha and Wanda. You were there to attend the mostly secret funeral of Annie Chapman. It was a small affair, with her father, her sisters, and other family members in attendance. Wanda had bumped into her father while visiting Commercial Street Police Station the day before and he was kind enough to extend the invitation after hearing how she had assisted in the investigation. No one but the undertaker, the police, and her family knew of the event.

It was a quiet affair — kept secret to avoid any hysterical crowds — with a hearse removing her body from the mortuary and stealthily transporting it across London to the cemetery. Now, you stood beside public grave 78, a communal grave in which Annie was being laid to rest. The guests had met the body at the grave instead of following the hearse in coaches. This was another attempt to keep the crowds at bay, and it thankfully managed to do exactly that. Her black-covered elm coffin bore the words ‘Annie Chapman, died Sept. 8, 1888, aged 48 years’. Inspector Stark also offered to attend and represent the Metropolitan Police. You had to admit that it was nice having another familiar face there, even if the relatively warm morning was already marked with a somber atmosphere.

It was when you were standing by the graveside that you noticed another familiar face at the very back of the small crowd. You were certainly surprised (and maybe a little excited) to see Dr Loki Laufeyson also attending the funeral, especially considering he hadn’t gone with you, Inspector Stark, and your friends. Had he come of his own accord? You supposed he could have gotten the information from any of the other policemen, so it wasn’t all that surprising. And yet you were still curious about what would bring him here.

After the burial, you stuck around with your friends and Inspector Stark, watching Dr Laufeyson out of the corner of your eye as you paid your respects to Annie’s family. He didn’t speak to anyone, instead choosing to stand over her grave in thoughtful silence.

You nudged Tony, grabbing his attention, and nodded to the doctor. “Did you know Loki was going to attend today?”

Following your directions, he seemed taken aback and shook his head. “That I did not… Let’s go say hello, ladies.”

You followed Stark over to the graveside, the noise of your crunching footsteps on the dry grass grabbing Loki’s attention. He looked up and greeted you all with a nod.

Inspector Stark gave him a friendly clap on the back. “Morning, Doc.”

“Stark. Ladies. I hope you’re all well on a day such as this.”

“We’re getting by,” Natasha replied, summarising the unanimous feeling between you and your friends. “As well as any of us can.”

Loki seemed happy with that. “Good, good. And you, Stark? Any leads with the case? What of that man you arrested yesterday? Edward McKenna?”

“We released him last night. He had a solid alibi that checked out.”

The doctor frowned. “Why do I feel like every lead of late is a dead one?”

“Probably because they are all, in fact, dead…” Tony shook his head with a pout before briskly changing the subject. “But forget about that mess for the moment — I did not know you were going to be in attendance here this morning, Doctor.”

“Yes, well, I thought I should come to pay my respects, Inspector,” Loki replied, looking at his superior from underneath the brim of his top hat. “It felt necessary.”

“Considering you do get up close and personal with the victims after death, that does not surprise me. I came with our trusted associates, as you can see. Mr Smith invited them after meeting Miss Maximoff at the station.”

“I see. You have my condolences, Wanda. How are you faring?”

“Better,” she admitted and wrapped her arms around herself. “Having supportive friends by my side makes it easier.”

You reached out to wrap your own arm around her back, offering a comforting squeeze that the Sokovian thanked you for. Loki smiled at her words. “I am sure. That is the best anyone could ask for.”

“I would feel slightly better if the bastard was caught.” She shrugged, her words not intending to seem accusatory or rude. “Not that I am trying to appear ungrateful.”

“Not at all,” Tony assured her. “I think we would all feel more at ease if we caught him. We will catch him eventually, I promise. Especially with such helpful sort on our side.”

“I heard of the formation of the Mile End Vigilance Committee too,” Loki said, visibly intrigued. “Hopefully they prove to be useful.”

“We will take all the help we can get. We would rather nothing ill befell any other women, like poor Miss Chapman.” He looked at her grave before looking back at you and your friends. “I know Mr Smith already thanked you for this, but we did appreciate having you on hand to tell us about her. Even just hearing about her life was helpful.”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “Us lot already get shunted around the place and the last thing I wanted was for people to disrespect her after her death. I would much rather forget the memory of finding her in that yard and instead remember how she once made me a shawl because my older one was stolen. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

“That could have been any of us,” Natasha added. “We certainly know the feeling of, well, desperation, I guess. We are lucky that we live in the brothel instead of hopping between lodging houses or sleeping on the streets.”

“How did you move from the lodging house to the Black Swan, Wanda?” Loki asked inquisitively. “I would imagine it was quite difficult.”

“It was pure luck,” the Sokovian explained. “When I arrived here with my brother, we had little money and only the clothes on our backs. He did hard labour, and I did my part as well. One evening, Natasha approached me with Y/N by her side — she had heard my accent while I was mouthing off to some blighter who thought he could shove me about. They helped me fight him off and brought me back to the Black Swan. They said Madame Potts had a fondness for ladies with zealous attitudes. My brother came along too, and now he works as the bar man there. So, I have these two ladies to thank for whatever may have happened to us otherwise.”

“Why am I not surprised that you three would take on some drunk oaf together?” Loki said while Tony seemed silently satisfied with such a tale. “Although I suppose you all have similar temperaments.”

“We certainly do,” you replied. “But she also simply needed help, and we were definitely going to do what we could to get rid of that twat.”

Natasha cracked a smile. “We do not take shite from stupid people, especially not stupid, drunken men.”

“They go running when they see her,” you confirmed proudly. “I have seen it happen.”

The inspector’s expression now appeared genuinely impressed. “I don’t doubt that at all. You sound like a woman with a lot of experience in that area.”

Loki jumped in and added. “I would say that it seems like personal experience too.”

“Let’s just say that I have dealt with my fair share of moronic men.”

You knew all about Natasha’s past, but it was something that had only been revealed after a significant bond and trust was formed. It was late one evening when she told you about her former husband, Henry, whom she loved dearly once upon a time. Not unlike Annie, the Russian had found herself in a middle class family after moving to England. A whirlwind romance had led to a quick marriage, and the happy couple seemed to be a perfect match. It was only when they had tried to start a family did issues arise. Problems with conception led to the revelation of her inability to bear children, and Henry, after years of arguments, decided that he had wed a woman who couldn’t perform what he considered to be her basic duty. So he sold their residence, took whatever money Natasha had saved, and fled. She hadn’t seen him since, but she vehemently hated his tainted memory.

“If anything,” Tony continued, pulling you out of your daydream. “This is just further proof that you lot are perfect for this job. I do hate to end this lovely meeting, but I must be getting back to the station. Would you care to accompany us, Doctor? I offered our friends here a lift, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, Inspector, but I have left my bicycle outside and will have to pass. I can find my own way home.”

Tony shrugged and pulled out a smoking pipe from his coat pocket. “Suit yourself, Poe. I shall escort these ladies home on my own, then.” Once the Doctor had given you all a courteous goodbye and taken his leave, the inspector spoke again. “He is a curious man, that one.”

You stuck closely by your friends as you began to walk in the opposite direction to Loki, heading back to the horse and carriage in which you had arrived. Wanda seemed to find Tony’s comments amusing. “He seems nice enough to me.”

“I never said he wasn’t nice, but he is a weird sort, if you catch my drift.”

“Aren’t we all?” you challenged. “We are not exactly the most put together group.”

Inspector Stark chuckled. “I suppose I never thought a group of glamorous dollymops such as yourselves would be assisting me on a case, that’s for sure.”

“It wasn’t something I had seen in our future either,” Natasha added, wrapping her shawl tighter around shoulders. “The police haven’t exactly been very helpful or… understanding of our way of life in the past.”

“I have been meaning to ask you about that actually,” you said, looking at Tony curiously. “Soliciting is still illegal in London, and we get shunted around all the time by locals instead of actual constables. What exactly made you lot stop enforcing such strict rules? Sex workers are no longer getting arrest or charged, but instead we’re told to move on with our business. Most of the time, you just turn a blind eye.”

Tony listened carefully before he answered. “You can thank Sir Nicholas Fury for that one. He’s the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police and made the very wise decision to say that it isn’t our duty to investigate or close down brothels.”

“But when the Vigilance Associations closed down brothels, all they did was move them to somewhere they considered more respectable!”

“And he agrees with you on that!” He took another puff of his pipe. “He believes that containment is a better way to manage soliciting, as opposed to repression, you know? It is also a lot easier to manage when it is confined to one particular area too.”

“Let’s not forget that we still receive business from the public,” Wanda added. “And that still isn’t greatly affected by the fact soliciting is considered illegal.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “As long as there’s a demand, it shall always be around.”

“Right you are, Natasha,” Tony replied. “And it is also quite hard to prove that a woman has been soliciting, so charging individual prostitutes is nearly impossible, lest we forget about the case of Miss Elizabeth Cass last year. Her unjust arrest and subsequent overturning resulted in the entirety of London laughing at our incompetence, and rightly so! It was after that case that Fury prohibited us from arresting any street walkers unless a direct complaint had been made by the public. Evidence was also a requirement, obviously.”

“You lot really did make a balls of that one,” Natasha chuckled. “I do recall getting a good laugh out of it.”

Tony shook his head, but grinned slightly despite his embarrassment. “I am glad that it brought you some entertainment. Now, if we could politely withhold any verbal abuse until we return to the station, that would be much appreciated.”

“Not a chance!”

“I’m honestly surprised that you lot are even willing to work with us,” you said as you arrived at the horse and carriage. “Considering we are still technically doing something illegal.”

“Well,” Tony began, shrugging dismissively as he opened the carriage door for you. “You haven’t solicited on any of the occasions that we employed your help and, as they say, everyone needs to put food on the table.”

You looked at the older man with a small smile, aware that while he was telling the truth about your lack of any offence while working under their terms, he was also expressiing an understanding for the situation in which you and your friends found yourselves. There was hardly much choice for you when it was either prostitution or poverty. “Right you are, Tony.”

He laughed, flashing you a brilliantly arrogant smile of which you were beginning to grow genuinely fond. “As always, Y/N. Now, after you.”

* * *

27th September 1888, 10.15 am.

Clint Barton sat at his desk in the Central News Agency in London. He was scanning through a list of missives that were left for him to look over, all while drinking his usual morning cup of tea. He scanned the envelopes until one in particular caught his attention. It was written in red ink and, quite humourously, addressed to ‘The Boss, Central News Office, London City’. He raised a brow and took it from the pile to read first. He tore open the envelope and scanned through its contents…

Hmm… Leather Apron? Ah! Another Whitechapel Murderer claim, it would seem… Yada yada… red ink … Jack the Ripper? How creative…

He wasn’t too fussed about it really — it definitely wasn’t the first time they had received supposed information on the Whitechapel murders. Most of that information ended up being completely falsified, and he wasn’t much bothered by this letter either. He set it aside and began to read through all the other post that was delivered to him instead.

It was two days later on the morning of the 29th of September when he passed the letter on to the Metropolitan Police at Commercial Street Station. It was given into the hand of Inspector Stark, who sat at his desk and unfolded to missive to read:

“Dear Boss,

I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal.

How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha ha. The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn't you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight.

My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance.

Good Luck.

Yours truly

Jack the Ripper

Dont mind me giving the trade name. Wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha”

Upon finishing it, Tony was unsure. The likelihood that the literal killer would write a letter seemed unrealistic, and yet there was a small part of him that was perturbed with its arrival. Despite the fact it killed him to do so, he made Chief Inspector Strange aware of its arrival.

“Surely it is a hoax,” his superior said, eying the letter with a grim expression sometime later. “I mean, come on, red ink? That is embarrassingly excessive.”

“I think that cutting out wombs is also pretty excessive.”

“That may be so, but we have no way to confirm its authenticity.”

“True,” Stark sighed, therapeutically rubbing his temples. “Still, this man does at least sound psychotic. I mean, “you will soon hear of me with my funny little games”? I knew he was a devil before, but he seems to be getting a great deal of entertainment from this whole affair.”

“If the author of this letter is indeed our murderer,” Strange reminded him with a frown. “We have no way of knowing for certain. He hasn’t said anything to imply that he has detailed knowledge of the case, so it is not much to go off.”

“He has definitely adopted a more creative nickname anyway.”

“Creative and dramatic, I suppose.”

“He sounds like a bloody theatre kid…”

“My advice is that, right now, we put this letter to the side and return to it upon more details arising. We cannot do anything with it yet.”

Stark hung his head, sitting dejectedly behind his desk. “I feel like we are continuously doing just that — nothing! The press continue to slate us for making no progress at all and every lead is a dead end. There have been no murders since that of Miss Chapman, but we have been about as productive as our murderer! We cannot sit idly by waiting for another woman to wind up dead.”

“What do you suggest we do then, Inspector?” Strange argued, clearly perturbed by the truth within his words. “We cannot make progress when there is no evidence with which to work.”

Growing impatient, Stark grabbed the letter in his fist and shook it in front of Strange’s face. “But what about this? What if this can provide some answers?”

Despite Stark’s emotional outburst, Strange remained aloof and cold, his voice eerily deep and calm as he shut him down. “As desperately as you wish for this letter to give us any answers, we cannot prove that it is genuine. Right now, all we can do is believe it to be a hoax and nothing more — nothing about it is to be made public either. I advise you to focus your attention on other leads, Inspector. Perhaps you can have a word with your dollymops.”

Without waiting for a response, the Chief Inspector stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him. Stark released a heavy sigh and leaned against his desk, thinking through his options briefly before he resolutely exited the room.

It didn’t take him long to find Sergeant Rogers.

“Inspector?” the blonde greeted him, standing to attention.

Stark greeted him with a nod. “Steve, head over to the White Swan tonight. I need our girls out and on the job.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“It is about time that we found ourselves a lead, and I trust them to do it.”

Taglist: @heysliver @lisalisa007 @ava-royal @eloisemacguffin @tvdplusriverdale @trickster-grrrl @mellow-mischief @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77

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janeofcakes · 6 years ago

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Chapter 101

(Greg Lestrade has just finished giving his two officers and local police instruction for the capture of Justin Giles. Everyone is getting in position in the restaurant. Everyone in the small building is on the force. Most are masquerading as patrons. Greg plans to arrest Giles as soon as he takes a seat. The question on Greg’s mind is where the hell are Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?)

(Greg looks to his mobile, hoping for a message as Sally Donovan appears at his side.)

SD: Everyone’s in place. Where’s the dynamic duo?

G: They’re not here yet.

SD: (irritated) It’s 7:30. Our man is going to be here in thirty minutes.

G: I know, I know. (He dials a number and holds the mobile to his ear. He waits for an answer. Sally opens her mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand when he hears John’s voice.) John, we’re at the restaurant. It’s all set. Where the hell are you?

J: Greg, thank god. I need you at the house. Sherlock’s missing.

G: Missing?

J: For about an hour now.

G: He’s probably just gone off on some lark.

J: No, Greg. I found blood and his mobile on the porch.

G: Blood? (Sally’s ears perk up and she looks at Greg with concern.)

J: Just a few drops. We’ve searched the house and immediate grounds. There was more blood in the drive… and tire tracks.

G: I’ll be there in a few. Just hold tight. (He turns to Sally.) We’re going to the farmhouse.

SD: (nodding) Dimmock knows what to do here. Let’s go.

(Greg fills in Sally with what little information he has as he speeds toward the farm. Most of the ride is spent in silence that is only interrupted by the annoyingly friendly voice of the GPS. Though he hasn’t said a word and has maintained his professional demeanor, Sally can tell Greg is worried.)

SD: You’re concerned about Sherlock. (Greg doesn’t answer.) He’s your friend. It’s okay.

G: (growling) It’s not bloody okay. I’m your superior officer.

SD: (reaching for one of his hands and pulling it off the wheel) Greg, it’s okay. I understand.

GPS: (a cheery male voice) Turn left in 12 meters. You have reached you destination. Would you like a jelly baby?

(Greg pulls his hand away and turns into the long drive. It’s 8pm and the sun is getting lower in the sky, but there is still more than enough light to see. And the sight that greets them when they come to a stop in the drive is John Watson striding toward their car. Greg and Sally get out of the car and meet John half way.)

G: Any sign of him?

J: Not a trace. Giles must’ve taken him.

G: You think he means to swap him for Travers?

J: (shaking his head) If that’s what he wants, why hasn’t he tried to contact us? (He looks at Greg grimly.) I don’t think that’s it at all.

G: (looking steely) Right. Donovan.

SD: (with a mobile to her ear) Giles isn’t at the restaurant. He’s late.

G: Make sure all the police in Cornwall have his description and Sherlock’s.

SD: Right.

G: I want to see Travers.

J: (leading the way) He’s in the house.

(They walk up the stairs and onto the porch. John opens the front door and waits for Greg to enter.)

J: He’s in the sitting room.

(Greg puts a hand on John’s shoulder before he can take another step.)

G: We’ll find him, John.

(John swallows and nods. Greg can see the concern in his eyes plainly now.

The two men enter the sitting room. Ben turns to face them, worry written all over his face.)

J: Ben Travers, Detective Inspector Lestrade.

(They shake hands and exchange quick greetings. Ben turns to John.)

BT: I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before, John. I should’ve believed you.

G: (feeling suspicious of this man he doesn’t know well) Why are you so anxious to now?

J: Ben, what’s wrong? Have you heard from Giles?

(Ben straightens up and sighs tremulously. Nodding, he holds out his mobile to John and Greg.)

BT: Just now.

(John takes the phone and reads aloud.)

J: I’m coming to the house tonight. I know about the police. Get rid of them.

G: Right. I’m clearing the restaurant. Are there ways to get here that aren’t main roads?

BT: Yes. Local police will know them. They’ll get to my land and have to walk a ways to the house and barns, but they’ll make it.

J: (mumbling) He doesn’t say a word about Sherlock.

G: Good. Is there anyone else here? Or just the three of us?

BT: Lol and his son, Tom haven’t gone yet.

G: Tom - is he my size? Will you find them?

(Ben nods and leaves the room. John is looking at Greg with eyes of steel now.)

J: What’s the plan, Greg?

G: Local police hiding out in the surrounding buildings. Lol leaves, Tom wears my coat and leaves with Donovan. Giles sees everyone, but you and Ben leave if he’s watching. If he’s not, he gets here and only sees your car. If he wants you out, he’ll text Travers and you’ll leave so he can make his move. Either way, I’ll be here.

J: And I won’t go far.

G: (nodding) I’ll update Donovan. Be right back.

* * * * *

(The plan goes off without a hitch. Soon John, Greg, and Ben are the only people in the house. Sally and the other officers have taken up in and around the surrounding buildings with keen eyes on the house. All they need to do is wait for Giles to arrive.)

(By 9:30, the sun has set and darkness falls over the countryside. Looking at a window from behind a curtain, Greg’s mobile vibrates in his pocket.)

G: Donovan.

SD: Cornish officers on patrol found Giles’ rental abandoned in Wadebridge. It’s north of here, not far. A car belonging to a local man was reported stolen. I’ve put out an APB.

G: Good work. I’m betting he’s headed this way. (almost to himself) Why would he go to Wadebridge only to come back?

SD: (clearing her throat) Maybe to dump a body, sir.

G: Tell me.

SD: They found blood in the trunk. Not a lot, but enough. It has to be Sherlock’s.

G: (closing his eyes at the news) Thanks.

(Greg pockets his mobile and turns away from the window to face John and Ben. John recognizes his expression of regret immediately and stands.)

J: Greg?

G: Police found the rental in Wadebridge, abandoned. There was blood in the trunk.

(Anger flashes through John’s eyes and then his whole face turns stony.)

J: Jesus. Ben, where is Wadebridge?

BT: North of here. About 65-70km, I think.

J: I’m going.

G: John, no.

(John starts for the door to the foyer, but Greg steps in his path.)

J: Get out of my way.

G: It could all be a way to draw you out. Get you away from the house.

J: (gritting his teeth) Sherlock’s out there.

G: And what if he’s not? Suppose he’s still here.

J: No. (shaking his head) No. We searched everywhere.

BT: Could Justin have brought him back? In another car, in the dark...maybe none of us noticed.

(The three men look at each other. Greg pulls his gun.)

G: I’ll check it out. Stay here. Both of you.

(Greg means to search the entire house and decides to start at the bottom. If Giles is there, Greg might just be able to flush him out and force him to the upper floors where it will be harder to escape. He finds the basement stairs and starts down slowly. Once he reaches the floor, he creeps around quietly among storage shelves and large boxes. The floor isn’t divided into as many rooms as the other floors. Greg goes from one to another, looking for any sign of an intruder and then he sees it. A window near the ceiling just above ground and just big enough for a man to fit through. He walks over to it and lifts it open on its hinge. It’s been forced open and a tiny scrap of fabric is caught on the frame’s bottom edge. Greg eases the window down again and turns into a pipe swinging at his head.)

(He drops like a sack of potatoes. Justin Giles stands over him with a long, black pipe in one hand. Giles picks up the gun Greg has dropped and looks up at the ceiling when he hears footsteps.

Meanwhile, John and Ben walk back into the sitting room after a short trip to the loo.)

BT: Sorry. I guess I’m more nervous than I thought. (pausing, a look of regret on his face) John...um, I shouldn’t have judged Holmes so quickly.

J: Don’t worry about it.

BT: To be honest, it’s still so hard to believe Justin would do this. We’ve been friends for so long. Why would he want to hurt Finn this way?

(Something suddenly falls to the floor somewhere behind John. He spins quickly, pulling his gun, only to to turn again when Ben nervously says his name. Glaring and training his gun on the two men, he stares down Justin Giles. Giles has Greg’s gun at Ben’s temple and holds him fast with the other hand.)

JG: Put down the gun or I’ll pull the trigger. I swear to god.

(John takes a moment to size up Giles and quickly realizes that he is not as inexperienced as once thought. He is looking at John with hard eyes. His hands are steady and, while John doesn’t believe Giles wants to kill Ben, he can see the man would have no trouble doing so.

John raises his hands and holds his fingers away from the trigger on his gun.)

JG: Put it down and kick it over here. Slowly.

(John complies, not taking his eyes off Giles. John straightens and keeps his hands in the air. Silence follows.)

BT: Justin, don’t do this. Just let him go.

JG: (laughing) Let him go? You’ve gotta be kidding. If I want to get outta here, I can’t leave either one of you alive.

J: You can’t get away, Giles. The police know you killed Braeden. They’ll find you. Do you really want to add two more murders to your rap sheet?

JG: Shut up.

BT: He’s right, Justin. You can’t get away.

JG: Shut up! Both of you!

(All three men are silent until Ben speaks, sounding like a man about to break.)

BT: (his deep voice catching as he asks) Why did you do it, Justin? Why? Finn wa… Finn was so happy. Braeden was…

JG: Braeden was a fucking fag and he deserved what he got! (Neither Ben nor John can hide his surprise at this declaration.) And Finn played right into his hands. I saw him once at school, kissing another guy. It was disgusting. But it was only girls after that. I thought it was some kind of experiment or something. He never said a word. All these years. (His grip on the gun tightens and he pulls harshly at Ben.) And then, a few weeks ago, he shut down Maggie. She’s been head over heels since they met.

BT: (frowning) Finn and Maggie have always been good friends. She shouldn’t have assumed.

JG: He led her on, Ben, and you know it.

BT: He didn’t!

JG: Yes, he fucking did. Always just enough encouragement to keep her hanging on. And then when she wanted more, he dismissed her. He told her there was someone else and they were hopelessly in love. They were going to get married! He destroyed my sister for a stupid fling with a goddamn fairy!

BT: (firmly) Justin, they were in love. They were perfect for each other. It wasn’t a fling.

(Giles’ hand quickly releases Ben’s body and pulls back on his hair roughly instead. Ben yelps and leans back into Giles, who presses the gun to Ben’s throat hard.)

JG: They were sickening! Finn should’ve accepted my sister. He should’ve dated her. He should be marrying her!

JG: Stay right where you are or I’ll drop him, Doctor.

(John stands frozen. He had been inching his way closer to the two men while the conversation distracted Giles. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made it close enough before Giles noticed.)

BT: (in a pained voice) Maggie told me you’d argued. She said she tried to explain. That’s why you have to kill me, isn’t it? I’ll lead the police to you. What are you going to do about Maggie? Are you going to kill her too? Won’t she tell them the same things I would?

JG: (pulling Ben’s hair harder) SHUT UP!

J: (fully pissed off) It’s not your business to decide who loves who. To say one man can’t pledge himself to another man. (pausing) What did you think? You’d kill Braeden to get him out of the way, kill Ben to keep from getting caught, and with no one left, Finn would turn to Maggie for comfort? Your sister would do better finding someone who really loves her.

(Giles gives a cruel laugh and scowls at John.)

JG: That’s exactly what would’ve happened until you and your damn detective got involved.

(John’s jaw tightens. His hands fisted at his sides, he cuts right through Giles with his eyes.)

J: Where is he?

JG: (with an evil smile) You won’t find him.

J: (stepping closer angrily) You took him somewhere. Somewhere near Wadebridge.

(Giles’ eyes widen in surprise, but then he shakes his head slowly and smiles.)

JG: You’re good, Doctor. Very good. And to think I thought you were the weak link in the partnership. (John stares knives into Giles and breathes slowly.) He’ll be dead when they find him, Doctor Watson. He’s dead already.

(Giles slowly extends his arm and points the gun at John. Leveling the barrel at John’s head, Giles grins.)

JG: It’s amazing, isn’t it? Everyone would’ve been spared the pain if only Finn Travers was normal. Likes he’s supposed to be.

(In one swift movement, John launches himself at Giles, reaching for his arm and knocking the gun from his hand, but not before Giles fires a shot. Ben twists out of Giles’ grasp and ducks to the side. Giles turns to pursue him, but John swings his legs out and trips him. John jumps on the man and punches him square in the jaw. Giles hits him back and then reaches for his gun. Finding John’s instead, he picks it up and turns it on the doctor. John clamps his fingers around Giles’ wrist. The two men grapple for the gun and superiority, neither one able to gain the advantage.

Giles finally manages to gain the upper hand by rolling John onto his right arm, which was hit when Giles fired on him earlier. Weakened momentarily by the unexpected pain, John finds himself pinned beneath Giles and still holding his own gun at bay. John’s mind runs wild in much the same way Sherlock’s does when he’s looking for an instant plan of escape. He quickly headbutts Giles and throws the dazed man off his body. Before either man can fully stand, Greg comes into view holding his own gun on Giles.)

G: Drop it, Giles.

(Giles remains still for a moment, and then moves suddenly to point and shoot. The DI beats him to it, hitting the man’s shoulder and knocking him to the ground. The gun falls from his hand.

A handful of officers led by Sally Donovan burst into the house, having heard the gunfire and rushed from cover to the scene. They were quickly met by Ben, who had run from the house for help.

Giles is cuffed and made to sit in a chair. Blood drips down Greg’s temple and cheek from where he was struck with the pipe. The sleeve of John’s shirt is soaking with blood from the wound on his arm, but both refuse Sally’s attempts to get them medical attention.

They stand squarely in front of Giles, joined together in one mission.)

J: Where is Sherlock Holmes? (Giles just glares. John steps forward and bores holes through the man with his stare. His voice is a low growl.) By god, you will tell me or I will rip out your throat, you intolerant bastard.

(Giles fixes John with a wicked look in his eyes.)

JG: Tintagel. Merlin’s Cave.

BT: (gasping) My god. The tide is in. The cave is flooded out!

G: (getting right into Giles’ face and demanding) Where.

JG: In the water. (His eyes slide to John’s and a sickening smile spreads across his face.) I tied his hands and feet, found a big enough rock and tied it to his ankles, and pushed them both in. He went right under.

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #sherlock fanfic

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basicsofislam · 1 month ago

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ISLAM 101: CONVEYING THE MESSAGE OF ISLAM: Part 9

7. Reckoning

Our Prophet (pbuh) calls the attention of his umma by addressing his own relatives about preparing for that fearful day as follows:

O sons of Abdimanaf! Try to save your souls that are in the hand of Allah because I cannot do anything for you.

The Messenger of Allah narrows the circle some more and says the same things for his uncle Abbas, aunt Safiyya and daughter Fatima.

They led their lives with that consciousness and comprehension, enlightening our way. What we need to do is to follow that enlightened path as Muslims and to take over their inheritance.

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rainbowglitz22 · 3 years ago

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review book the skillful teacher chapter 8 Teaching in diverse classrooms pages 97- 109 by Stephen D. Brookfield.

In this chapter he is talking about teaching in diverse classrooms but from a cis-gendered white male perspective. I bring up so great points in the first few pages 97-101 about how the classroom can be divided from race, culture, gender, sexual ordination, learning style and age. Then he goes on to how you can gauge diversity. He suggests doing a weekly Critical incident questionnaire will help you with gauging diversity. This will help you figure what learning activities are working and what mix of learning activities to do in the future.

I find this part to be helpful but little short sighted. As I am an indigenous and black woman that apart of the LGBTQ+ community. My perspective on diversity is very different and less stereotype driven. I do find in my workshops that people come in from very different backgrounds and learning levels. When it comes to gauging my workshops, I do find myself feeling out the room and making sure it’s an inclusive environment and not a divided one. With that being said I am learning from this chapter so far but only taking the important parts.

Stephens goes on from page 102-104 talking about more suggestions to help with diverse classrooms. First one he goes on to is called team teaching, this is where you have multiple teachers from different teaching levels, cultural and gender. This style of teaching gives you and the students more ways to connect and find someone closer to their learning style. The down fall of this teaching style is it cost more money and takes a lot longer to make decisions. Then he goes on to talk about mixing student groups and how this can be done in 2 ways. First way is mixing students that are similar in common curricular interests or even the same ability level allows them to learn without accommodating. He says that this style is usually appreciated by students particularly in the early stages of your course. It has its draw backs as if could leave some students feel alienated but for others it is a way to allow them to feel safe. The other way he suggests is mixing them up in different learning levels, interests and other. this one help students get ready for outside the classroom and learn how to work with people you would not choose to like in the real world. This has its own benefits and draw backs too.

I have noticed that Stephen really focusses on race a lot in the classroom and that is what he considers to be the major part of diversity for him. I find it hard to read to be honest as that is not how I classify or look out for diversity in my classroom. This might stem from his very colonized way of thinking is about dividing and how I think in a decolonized way which is about inclusion. I do like he’s suggestions again but like before taking a lot of what he is saying with a grain of salt.

Now we have gotten to the end of the chapter pages 105-109 and he addresses even more assumptions and suggestions. Stephens talks about mixing modalities in a creative way that does not stop the pace that courses need stick to. Talks about visual or oral communication and how you need a mix of both in the classroom. Silent or speech filled classrooms a how you need to get comfortable with silence as a teacher. End it off with we will always fall short but that does not mean not to try.

I find that these last few pages he really talks about the importance of mixing as many learning activities that caters to different learning styles so everyone has a chance to learn in their preferred learning style. He does talk a lot more about race too which is little off base for me but I did overall learn something from this chapter to that I can implement in my own teaching.

Reference:

Brookfield S. (2015). The skillful teacher-on the technique, trust, and responsiveness in the classroom (3nded.). Jossey-Bass.

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rhetoricandlogic · 3 years ago

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Fool’s Run, Patricia A McKillip

Published on 22 June 2016

Review by Guy

As my somewhat dog’s eared copy will attest this is a novel I have enjoyed quite a bit and read more than once. I first encountered McKillip’s work when I found Heir of Sea and Water, the second volume of the Riddlemaster of Hed trilogy in a drug store while attending an archaeological field school in Elk Point, Alberta. The Riddlemaster series now ranks right up there with Tolken’s Hobbit/LOTR books for me, and McKillip is really the only fantasy writer whose works I still buy as they come out. As far as I know, Fool’s Run is her only SF work.

From the prologue:

The static again. A different voice. “Jailbird. This is records. Name of prisoner?” “Terra Viridan.” The com whistled. “You’ve got her.” “Affirmative.” “Legal status.” “Her status-sheet is a mile long, can I give-“ “Give us a printout when you dock. Jailbird. Is she sane?” “Legally” “Off-record.” A break of silence. “You ask her. Look into her eyes and ask her.”

And so Terra Viridian who, as a conscripted recruit stationed in the Desert Sector of Earth, used her laser-rifle to kill one thousand five hundred and nine men, women, and children, has come to the Dark Ring, the Underworld, to spend, the rest of her life.

Chapter one starts in the Constellation Club on the Sunshine Coast, which includes the area formally known as Australia. The Constellation Club is owned by Sidney Halleck, a musicologist and promoter, who collects instruments and bands. His club contains 20 stages with the bands operating behind screens of light allowing the patrons to move from stage to stage. The Magician, the pianist and leader of a band called Nova, has just played Bach for four straight hours, after Nova’s last set, while in some kind of trance. This has been witnessed by Sidney and the Magician’s friend, Aaron Fisher a patroller (police officer) who works in the area. At the same time this is happening Jason Klyes the chief administrator of the Underworld, is fielding two requests. One is from his rehabilitation director Jeri Halpren who wants to work with Sidney to bring a band to perform a concert at Underworld.

The second is from a scientist Dr A Fiori of New Horizons, the mental health facility and rehabilitation centre that Terra Viridian should logically have been sent to, if there had not been so much political pressure to find her guilty. He wants to use a prisoner for Project Guinea Pig, a biocomputer (Dream Machine) which translates brain impulses onto the computer screen in an attempt to help understand and control criminal impulses. And of course the prisoner that Fiori has selected for the project is Terra Viridian. The last piece of the puzzle falls into place when Nova is selected to be the band will play a concert at Underworld.

Not all aspects of McKillip’s universe can immediately be ferreted out. There are no info-dumps and few lectures. She is a writer who shows rather than tells making the reader pay attention to the text they are reading. Which is not to say, she festoons her work with needless slang and in-jokes, to give it a false sense of depth. Any new words, cubers for drummers, sectors replacing countries and continents just supply a hint of the changes time has wrought but the language is straightforward. We find out enough about the world the characters inhabit, without slowing the narrative to add a lot of unneeded detail. The present culture some 5.2 billion people occupy the earth, the asteroids and some of the nearby planets. Regions are divided into sectors and the FWG, Free World Government is the overarching authority. As the Magician states,

“I wonder how long the FWG can keep its grip on the world. It’s part democracy, part tyranny, part socialist, part plain parental, and it has kept itself alive so far by our memory of near annihilation.” (p 101)

It is certainly not a perfect society, there are separatist movements, terrorist organizations, the patrollers must battle not only financially motivated crime but also random seemingly unmotivated crimes. Sounds a lot like today.

The characters themselves are nicely detailed. Despite the fact that McKillip has chosen to have the members of Nova go by nicknames, like characters in a western or medieval allegory, the Magician, the Scholar who is smart and plays the rod-harp, Questor the vocalist, who is or at least pretends, to be very French, the Nebraskian, the sound man who took the name from an old movie, and the cubers, the Gambler and his replacement (he does not fly, inner ear problems), the Queen of Hearts, become real people with obvious personalities before the end of the novel. I did notice that a number of the character traits that can be found in the Riddlemaster books, are also be found in Fool’s Run. One of the things I enjoy about McKillip’s characters is that conversation are often broken off, interrupted, that tone or body language is as important as what is said. Also even after years of working together or being friends her characters do not fully understand one another or know all the details of each others pasts.

I think this is best expressed in a conversation between the Magician and Aaron Fisher:

“Probably. Sorry I brought it up.” “You didn’t,” Aaron said helplessly. “You just pulled it out of my head. You just -“… “It was in your voice.” Aaron shook his head doggedly. “It was in the silence after my voice.” (p 75)

I find this to be a reasonable approach that mirrors my experience. In my experience we interrupt each other, conceal as much as we reveal, dwell on some topics and avoid others, repeat ourselves, tailor what we say to our audience. Sometimes even our closest friends surprise us and sometimes even we do not fully understand our own motivations and reactions. I think this gives McKillip’s work a maturity and nuance lacking in a lot of science fiction. Fool’s Run is very much a novel about language and communication. One of the longest discussions between the band members is about the meaning and importance of symbols. The language of the novel is beautiful and evocative, from the fragments of poetry introduced in the security challenges from the prolong, to all the sensory information we receive, about the light, scents and sounds that inform each scene. This is also a novel about how people act and react, many of the characters rely as much on hunches, intuition, even a slight precognition ability as they do on logical decision making.

If I had to compare Fool’s Run to another book it would be Delany’s Babel-17. Stylistically both deal with language and symbol, with visions, intuitions, short hallucinatory passages of poetry and bursts of sensory experience although otherwise they are very dissimilar works.

This review originally appeared on A Jagged Orbit.

#Patricia A. McKillip #Fool's Run #mahreviews #long post

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