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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

Text

the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

#britpop #fanfic #bandimagines #Liam Gallagher x reader #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #Liam Gallagher #oasis #blur band #oasis band #my writing #fluff #angst

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qwanderer · 3 years

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What makes a Loki a Loki?

Loki is called upon to be a lot of different people. He’s been raised on Asgard, and that’s formed some of the more basic aspects of his personality and values, but at the same time he has attributes that have been consistently discouraged and pushed down by that culture, and we can see them step forward as he moves into situations where they are encouraged.

Throughout the canons, there are a lot of Lokis. Siege Loki, Lady Loki, Kid Loki and his murderer, Ikol, King Loki, and the God/Goddess of Stories. The earlier aspects I know only by secondhand information, but I’m very familiar with Loki from Young Avengers and Agent of Asgard, some of my favorite comics of all time. But I know some basic facts - the way the earliest Loki was a quintessential comic book villain full of pure simple theatrical mischief and ridiculous schemes, the fact that Lady Loki was a somewhat more sinister appropriator of bodies for her own use.

In my view, MCU!Loki has, at the very least, the same capacity to shift personalities depending on the circumstances, and I haven’t yet seen anything in the Loki show that’s thrown my suspension of disbelief with regards to his characterization.

I’ve seen some people rebel at the idea of Loki gleeful over the destruction of Pompeii and the causing of chaos it allowed, but it reminds me of some meta I wrote very early on in my years of meta-writing in the MCU. The values Loki was raised with, Asgardian values, sometimes treat death very lightly, especially death in battle, especially human or otherwise non-Aesir death. In the Aesir context, at least to a certain extent and certainly in terms of what we’ve seen Odin teach his sons onscreen, violence is honorable, fighting is an adventure, lives are cheap and Valhalla is the ultimate goal.

I think a lot of the central conflict of Loki’s character is that he follows some of these principles to their logical conclusions in situations that Aesir values never meant them to cover. If life is unimportant, then it won’t be so bad if I tell Thor that Odin is dead. If the throne of Asgard has dominion over all the Nine Realms, then why shouldn’t I rule Midgard?

But he also shifts the way he acts to suit the situation. He is a shifter, it’s what he does. On Asgard, he is expected to be a warrior, a dignified prince, a companion and support for his brother. The values are bravery and dignity, and so a lot of what he projects there is bravado and elegance, which are close enough for him to get by.

When he is taken by Thanos, the only things Thanos wants and values are power and death. So Loki becomes an avatar of power and death. He carries that with him to Earth, because he is still very much under the jurisdiction of Thanos. But he very quickly learns how to use and manipulate Earth values, like wit and pathos. They seem to fit him better than the others, and he carries them through the other movies and the different frameworks he finds himself in.

He also tends to carry Asgard with him, the knowledge that he’s a prince, destined to be a king, that he needs to carry himself a certain way, with that elegance, dignity and bravado.

When I see Loki in the first episode of the show, I recognize him as some of the deepest, most quintessential parts of Loki that have only been allowed to peek out on occasion before. And that is due to manipulation on Mobius’s part - Mobius makes it very clear what he expects of Loki. To get down to the very basic levels of him and find out his motivations, what makes him fundamentally himself - “What makes Loki tick?” There’s a quiet void there, and the only thing that’s being asked of Loki, for once, is that he sit down and fill that void with words - the truest and most sincere words possible.

There’s a clear and interesting divide between that phase for Loki, and the phase we see in episode two - Mobius has stopped providing that space, and in the interim, he’s made it very clear what he expects Loki to be like, what mold he’d prefer the trickster to fit into.

The hard-working, lovable scamp.

Loki is hiding his deepest self again, which we all do most of the time. Loki can’t feel that deeply and express that freely all the time. Because of the environment he’s in - which may not be any more or less free than any of the other environments he’s experienced - he expresses himself in a particular way. He is the hard-working, mischievous scamp Mobius has been pushing him to be.

I don’t think he’s any more or less himself than he’s ever been - he’s simply responding to different pressures. And the pressures of this episode press him very hard into the Neal Caffrey mold. Which is an interesting mold in itself - when I was writing White Collar fic, I made a point to distinguish who Neal was when he was with Peter and who he was under different circumstances - prison, witness protection, with Mozzie, with Kate. (I wrote an autistic Kate, and had him most freely himself when he was with her.)

Like Neal Caffrey, the Episode 2 Loki is treading a line between behaviors that will get him things because he’s useful and compliant, behaviors that will demonstrate that he’s into minor trickery for fun now and might not be getting up to anything bigger, and those bigger tricks that are definitely still running in the background. It’s the obvious balance for a trickster on a leash with an indulgent bureaucrat.

You can see that it’s a facade in the way that he is near tears when he sees the Ragnarok paperwork, but when he brings it to Mobius’s attention and Mobius expresses his sympathies, Loki says “Yes, very sad,” and then dismisses it in favor of moving on to his mischievous enthusiasm over the resulting theory he’s had.

Like all good lies, it’s built out of truth, so when I see this Loki, I see pieces of the Loki I know, just put together a little differently, which is how Loki seems to do it.

Although he’s not free as he might hope to be, and in fact threading a narrow path between a very constricting set of pressures, I do still think he’s enjoying the dropped expectations of dignity and elegance. I think he’s enjoying being in a culture that encourages him to be a geek. To go on about the things he’s passionate about and his areas of expertise. And I think that’s a lot of what unsettles people about this Loki, because that elegance and dignity have carried everywhere else with him. And I’m not going to argue that the TVA are doing anything nice for him - quite the contrary - but I still do enjoy seeing him able to be the geek he’s always had the inclination to be, in the right circumstances.

It makes me wonder, a little, how much his mother is on his mind right now, after the first episode, because if I had a guess, the last time he’s felt free to be this enthusiastic and expressive about his interests is in magic lessons with her as a child.

So. The other variant.

We know from the Lady Loki comics arc that Loki can possess other people’s bodies over the long term, and we know from kid!Loki and his murderer interacting in YA that the original occupant of a body can sometimes hang around and talk back, if only as a figment of his imagination. We know from most incarnations that Loki can go to a lot of dark places if the circumstances push him to it.

As I’ve said before, I’m intrigued by the question the difference between the two variants poses - how much different can two Lokis be before they are no longer meaningfully the same person?

We’ve got clues on both sides, of course - our scamp on a leash saying “I wouldn’t do this to myself” on the side of them being not the same person, and the vengeful goddess he’s chasing saying “I was afraid they’d found a better version of me” on the side of them being the same person.

The more I think about it, the more I’m willing to predict that this vengeful goddess is, in some way, an incarnation of Loki. But (be warned, I’m going to reference Stephenie Meyer now) it could be in as small a way as something out of The Host - a stolen body’s original personality fighting dirty against the invading spirit.

If this is something based on the character of Sylvie from the comics, it could still be anything from a person - human or Asgardian - chosen and manipulated by Loki to do his bidding, to a full-on possession, or even a body constructed for a specific purpose but developing its own personality traits.

We know this variant is a body hopper, and Mobius’s briefing mentioned that it’s an inherent ability of most Lokis to shapeshift, so there are a lot of potential explanations for this unfamiliar shape.

But the differences between the variants could also stem mostly from different experiences.

The only thing I’m at all sure of is that this variant has also been tortured by Thanos. It’s possible that she branched earlier - that the wild desperation of having freshly escaped Thanos translated into being dragged into the TVA like a cornered wildcat, on the raggedy edge and desperate enough to go all-out to get out of the collar while still in the custody of the minute men. Then, as she became familiar with the TVA in concept and execution, developed opinions and built a personality around taking them down, taking them apart the way she wished she could do to Thanos, the way Thanos did to her.

But she could also have branched later - after the destruction of Asgard, or when Thanos appeared on the refugee ship. After the worst has happened to her people. With some preexisting notion that time could have gone differently, that some things that had happened should not be allowed to happen.

I have a weak spot for interactions between incarnations of Loki in the comics, so I am incredibly eager to see the MCU’s take on this.

#Loki meta #the loki show #loki spoilers #loki laufeyson #loki #meta #marvel #comics #616 #white collar #the host #sylvie #loki s1e2

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light��can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

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general-kenobi357 · 3 years

Text

Someday Soon-Chapter 1

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!OC

Summary: The only goal Isabella Bailer has this summer, is to have a good time with her friends, the Pogues. But when they find a ship wreck after a hurricane their summer takes an unexpected turn.

Note: So this is my first fic that I have actually properly finished and I am so excited to share it. I first posted it on Wattpad but I find that I don't really use that platform much so I wanted to post it somewhere I go on often. I hope you enjoy my twist on Outer Banks :) Also the I have written Iz to be as nondescript as I could so that you can imagine her however you want.

Word Count: 10.5k (The first chapter is really long but later on the chapters get shorter.)

🔅🔆🔅

We’re the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

The soft breeze brought the smell of the ocean to my nose while the sun shone brightly on my cheeks. I had to squint to see my friends through the bright rays. As the sun fell lower the day only seemed to get warmer, the beer in my hand brought a cool relief, after taking another drink a smile grew on my face as I listened to the conversation between Pope and John B.

“That’s what, a three-story fall to the deck?” Pope asked, looking up at John B who was currently balancing on one foot on the edge of the roof. We were all hanging around one of the many mini-mansions that were under construction in Figure Eight. “I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival.”

“Hm” John B replied as he stuck a finger into the air pretending to check the direction of the wind. “Should I do it?”

“Yeah, jump.” Pope quipped, pointing a drill at him. “I'll shoot you on the way down.”

“You’ll shoot me?”

“Yep. Pow!”

“They’re gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.” Kie told us shocked, as she emerged from the house that was yet to be finished.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t they?” I inquired somewhat bitterly from my spot sitting next to JJ. Nothing Kooks did surprised me anymore, all they seemed to care about was their own vanity.

“This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about turtles, I guess?” Kie asked, sounding somewhat defeated. I sent her a sad smile, wishing I had more power to change the way things were.

“I can’t have cold towels.” JJ added sarcastically before we all directed our gaze towards John B.

“Can you please not kill yourself?” Kie asked him sweetly as he continued to lean dangerously close to the edge of the building.

“Yeah that would really ruin my summer.” I added, I had protested John B climbing onto the roof in the first place but once that boy got something into his mind, no one could change it.

“And don’t spill that beer. I’m not giving you another one.” JJ warned seconds before the can slipped through John B’s grasp and came crashing onto the deck.

“Whoa! Oh, shit.” John B exclaimed as he attempted to regain his balance on the roof, I turned to look out at the ocean again, not wanting to see him hit the deck as well.

“Of course you did. Smooth.”

“A plus.” Pope commented as he leaned over the side of the deck before looking back at the group. “Hey, uh, security’s here. Let’s wrap it up.”

“Humpty Dumpty, let’s roll.” JJ called to John B while he hopped off of the scaffolding we had been sitting on, before turning around and offering me his hand to help me get down. “Sweetheart?”

“Thank you.” I replied, accepting the hand he held out as I jumped down onto the deck.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” John B agreed as he followed us down.

“Gary, is that you?” JJ called out to the security guard as we gathered our stuff up. “It’s me. Gary, good to see you, man!”

“You’re just asking for it.” I told him as I shook my head trying to hold in my laughter.

“Get ‘em! They’re comin’ your way!” I heard one of the guards shout from behind me as I followed Kie towards the van. “Hey! Stop!”

I spared a glance behind me as I exited the house and saw the guard catching up to JJ.

“Not much of a hugger!” I heard JJ shout as he avoided the guard.

As I ran down the front steps John B pulled up in the van, Kie hopped into the passengers seat as I climbed into the back leaving the side door open for the boys to jump in whenever it was they decided to show up.

“Bus is leaving!” John B called out as he honked the horn. I peered out the back window watching as Pope started climbing over the fence, before promptly falling flat on his face. JJ hoped over next and helped him back to his feet.

“Come on, boys!” Kie called.

I held out my hand for Pope who was struggling to get into the moving van. Once both boys were inside John B stepped on the gas and we all watched Gary hopelessly chase after us. We were all left in a fit of laughter after JJ was done teasing the poor security guard.

🔅🔆🔅

The Outer Bank, Paradise on Earth. It’s the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

All right. So there’s Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don’t live?

And then, there’s the South Side or the Cut. Home to the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of… drumroll, please… the Pogues.

That’s us.

Pogues, Pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest member of the food chain. Okay. So, the downside of the Pogue life is we’re ignored and neglected. But the upside of the Pogue life? We’re ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want. So, let me introduce you to the crew.

First up… JJ Maybank, my best friend since the third grade. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best surfer I know. Just don’t tell him I said that. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.

Next up is Isabella Bailer but we just call her Iz. A former Kook up until she was ten and her dad was caught embezzling money from his company and promptly arrested, her family basically lost everything. Shortly after that she moved in next door. Definitely the Mom of the group, she basically takes care of all of us, and when she’s not cleaning up our messes, she’s working with her Mom, cleaning houses for the Kooks. Iz is the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet until you threaten her friends then you better run the other way and hope she doesn’t find you.

After Iz there’s Kiara Carrera, or Kie, as we call her. When she’s not saving turtles or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I’m not really sure why though. So, she’s a rich kid, actually. Foot in both worlds. Her family owns The Wreck, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash cow with the tourists. You know, I’m not really sure how her parents feel about us. But I think we all have had a thing for her at one point or another.

Finally we have Pope Heyward, the brains of the operation… finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo. His father’s this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Hayward could get for you. Now, I’m not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn’t matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

So, that’s my crew. And my name is John Booker Routledge. I’ve been living on my own for the past nine months in an old fish shack on the marsh. The Château, as my dad used to call it. Where is my dad? Well he disappeared at sea nine months ago, looking for a shipwreck. Who disappears at sea these days? I miss him. Any other possible guardians who could look after me, might be your next question? Well Mom split when I was three. Last I heard she was in Colorado and Uncle T who is supposedly my legal guardian is currently in Mississippi, building houses…

Which means it’s just me right now, on my own, hangin’ with my friends.

🔅🔆🔅

I swung lazily in the hammock that sat between John B’s house and my own as I watched the water. The sun was starting to rise higher and I could already tell it was going to be another long hot day. I was lost in my own thoughts until I felt the hammock dip to the side. Glancing up I gave John B a small smile as he tried to readjust the balance of the hammock.

“You know I really hate this thing?” He told me still struggling.

“I know it's ‘cause you don’t know how to relax.” I replied, teasing him as I shifted to help balance the hammock after the change in weight.

“I’m gonna take it down one of these days.” He threatened, finally leaning back.

“No, I love this hammock, it's my favorite spot.”

“I know I’m only teasing you, I’m not sure you would ever talk to me again if I took away your hammock.”

“You’re damn right I wouldn't.” I told him attempting to sound serious before letting out a laugh. We laid quietly for a few minutes before I spoke up again. “So do you have big plans today?”

“Um, yes.” He responded after taking a moment to think. “I get to go down to social services and talk to some people about how there are no responsible adults in my life.”

“Oh that sounds like sooo much fun.”

“I know right? You want to come with me?”

“As much as I would love that, JJ said he was going to take me out so I could practice driving the boat.” I had my license but I was not the best driver on land and I had barely ever driven in the water.

“Oooh you and JJ alone on a boat?” John B asked, stretching out his words and wiggling an eyebrow at me. He loved to tease me about the very obvious crush that I had on JJ every chance he got. At his teasing I took the half empty beer he had brought out with him much to his protest.

“No, number one, you and I both know that I will never be brave enough to make a move, number two, no Pogue on Pogue macking and number three I think that Pope said he was coming with us.” I rambled about the many reasons why what John B was suggesting would never happen before I downed the rest of the beer and handed back the empty bottle.

“Wow, thanks, I wanted to drink that.” He commented on the bottle in the grass beside us, I shrugged my shoulders as if to tell him he should have expected it after his teasing. “Also if I were you I’d go confirm that JJ still knew this was happening because he’s inside with a girl right now and they looked like they might be awhile.”

“Seriously?” I groaned trying to cover up my jealousy with annoyance. I knew that I had no right to be jealous, JJ didn’t belong to me and I was far too scared to ever confess how I really felt, not that I could even figure out how I really felt. But it still hurt to see him with different girls all the time. “I guess I’ll go investigate.”

I quickly stood from the hammock before thinking, but it was too late. As I turned around and watched the hammock flip and John B tumble off onto the grass below.

“Thanks for the heads up.” He grumbled as I helped him to his feet.

“Sorry. I forgot how terrible you are at sitting in a hammock.” I said trying to cover the smile on my face.

“Yeah laugh it up, your friend just got attacked by a hammock, real funny.” He replied pretending to be upset as he dusted the dirt off of himself.

“I mean it is kind of funny.” I called over my shoulder as I made my way back towards The Château to find out who was around. “I’ll see you later John B.”

I stepped onto the porch only to find Pope stretched out on the couch fast asleep. ‘I suppose he won’t be joining us.’ I thought as I walked past him into the house.

In the main room Kie laid on the pull out couch blowing clouds of vapor above her. I sent her a soft smile which she returned before I turned the corner towards the bedrooms in the Château.

Only one of the room's doors was closed so I figured that was where JJ was. I raised my hand to knock on the door but the sound of a shrill giggle stopped me. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know what was going on so my hand retracted back from the door and I walked back towards where Kie was.

I laid down beside her with a sigh. Kie shifted closer to me as we both just hung out.

“I’m pretty sure it’s some Touron who’ll be gone by the end of the week.” Kie finally spoke up, I raised my head to send her a questioning look. “The girl in there.” She added pointing to the room JJ was in.

“Oh.” I nodded laying back down. I stared back up at the ceiling, contemplating whether I wanted more details about this girl. “Was she pretty?”

“I didn’t get a good look.” She responded.

“Huh.” I responded, unsure if she was telling the truth or just trying to make me feel better. “Are you working today?” I asked, wanting to change the subject before I thought about JJ anymore.

“Um, yeah. I have to leave soon.” Kie responded, glancing at the time on her phone. “Did you want to come with me, I might be able to sneak out fries for you.”

“No, I better stay here. I think my Mom has a few things she wants me to do before the storm tonight.” I responded, I also still half hoped that JJ would want to hang out.

“Okay, well I’m sure that I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, smiling as she stood to gather her stuff.

“Yeah, tomorrow morning we’ll all go out and check out the damage.” I responded, standing up as well.

“Love you.” She cooed, pulling me into a hug.

“Love you too.” I responded, before we both let go of each other. She then grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. “Stay safe!” I called after her as she walked towards her car.

After Kie had left I had made my way to the dock, which is where I was now sitting watching the stormy clouds that were forming out in the open water.

“Hey.” Pope spoke softly, alerting me to his presence, before he sat down next to me.

“Hey, I figured you were going to sleep all day.” I teased, sparing a glance at him.

“Yeah, I guess I was more tired than I thought.” He responded with a smile. “It looks like it’s gonna be bad.” He added, referring to the dark clouds that were beginning to move closer.

“Yeah I just hope it isn’t too loud, last year Emmy had nightmares all summer from the thunder.” I said, remembering how bad my little sister’s nightmares had gotten.

“Well there aren't any thunderstorms in Agatha’s path so there shouldn’t be much thunder this time.” He informed me.

“You are too smart for me, Pope.” I said with a smile.

“Speaking of smart things, we should bring in the boat before it ends up in a tree somewhere down the road.” He said, I looked over at the boat which had sat in the water by the dock all day, waiting for us. I was more than a little bitter over the fact that JJ had stood me up. “Iz?” Pope asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, yeah let’s bring in the boat.” I finally responded before standing up to help Pope.

We were able to bring in the boat before Pope had to head home to help out his Dad and I walked back to my house to help my Mom before the storm hit.

🔅🔆🔅

The next morning I woke up to the sound of someone clattering around in the kitchen. After getting dressed I walked out to see my Mom and Emmy at the kitchen table eating breakfast in the dark.

“No power?” I asked as I flipped the switch knowing nothing would happen.

“Nope.” My Mom replied as she walked past me to put her bowl in the sink. “And no water. I’m gonna pick up another tank of water from Heyward on my way home from work. Seems like the storm took out the whole island. Listen I know that you wanna hang out with your friends but I need you to take down all the storm shutters at some point.”

“Mom the day after a hurricane is a free day.” I argued, I knew better than to argue with her most of the time but I still had to try.

“I know and I’m not saying right this minute but at some point it would be nice.” She surprised me with her reply, most days I would get a lecture about talking back.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked checking her forehead temperature.

“Yeah are you feeling okay Mommy?” Emmy parroted from behind us, one of her new hobbies.

“Yes, I’m feeling fine.” She said, swatting my hand away from her forehead. “I’m trying to be nice, this is your last summer before you graduate and I know you’ve been working a lot.”

“Okay…” I replied, still suspicious that this was some kind of trick. Quickly kissing her cheek, I grabbed my bag and kissed the top of Emmy’s head, jogging to the door I left the house before she could change her mind. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

I heard them both say goodbye as I closed the door behind me and made my way over to where John B and JJ were standing clearing branches off the HMS Pogue.

“Mornin’ boys.” I greeted the pair as I helped them finish clearing off the boat.

“Someone's in a good mood.” John B suggested as he made his way over to the side of the boat I was standing by. “You and JJ have fun?” He asked in a quieter voice.

“Nope, he completely blew me off. I don’t even think he remembered.” I replied, biting the inside of my cheek trying to not show my disappointment. “But it’s fine, today is a free day and we are going to enjoy it.” I said putting a smile back on my face as I looked over to where JJ stood oblivious to mine and John B’s conversation.

🔅🔆🔅

“Well, look who we have here.” JJ taunted as we pulled up to the Heyward’s dock.

“We have a safety meeting. Attendance mandatory.” John B added pretending to speak into a walkie talkie.

“I can’t. My Pop’s got me on lockdown.” Pope replied sadly.

“Come on, man” JJ grumbled from his spot beside me. “Your dad’s a pussy. Over.” he commented speaking into his own pretend walkie talkie. I turned to look at him surprised as I hit his arm lightly. “What? He is?” JJ tried to defend.

“Oh, I heard that, you little bastard.” Heyward scolded JJ.

“We need your son.” I said as I directed my attention to Heyward. “Island rules. Day after a hurricane’s a free day.”

“Who made that up?” Heyward demanded moving closer to the boat.

“Uh… Pentagon, I think. We have security clearance.” I added, trying to come up with excuses.

“Yeah, I have a card.” JJ tried to add to my story.

“You think I’m stupid?” Heyward challenged.

“I'll do it tomorrow. I promise. Tomorrow.” Pope told his dad, getting ready to get into the boat.

“You think... No, no. Hell no. You doin' it right now.” Heyward told Pope as he hopped into the boat. “Bring your ass back up here.”

“I promise I'll do it tomorrow, Dad.” Pope assured his father as we started to float away.

“We’ll bring him back in one piece.” I called back to Heyward as we started to speed off towards Kie’s dock.

🔅🔆🔅

After picking up Kie, Pope had taken over driving the boat and the rest of us were sitting around watching JJ attempt one of his many tricks that he had tried a million times but that never seemed to work the way he wanted it to.

“You’re getting beer in my hair!” Kie reprimanded JJ.

In an attempt to avoid the same fate as Kie I stood up from my spot beside her. But just as I got to my feet I felt the boat shift under me and jolt to the side throwing me off the edge. After a moment underwater I realized what had happened and swam back to the surface.

“Jesus, Pope!” I heard Kie berate Pope.

“You okay, JJ?” John B asked, I assumed he had also been sent overboard.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head.” I heard JJ reply from the other side of the boat.

“Kie, you okay?” John B asked, shifting his concern away from JJ.

“I’m all right.” Kie answered John B after a moment of pause. “Where’s Iz?”

“Over here.” I called from where I was treading water, a moment later I saw JJ swimming over to where I was. We made eye contact for a moment before he scanned that rest of my face with concern making sure I was good. I gave him a reassuring smile before looking back at our friends on the boat.

“Guys... I think there's a boat down there.” Pope said looking out from the ledge of the Pogue.

“Shut up. What?” Kie asked moving to look into the water. “No way.”

“No, no, guys. I'm serious. There's a boat down there.” Pope added confidently. “For real. “

“Holy shit, he's right. Let's go.” Kie said, getting ready to jump into the water.

We all dove down as deep as we could and sure enough a sunken boat was sitting below the surface.

“You guys saw that?” JJ asks as we all come up for air. A chorus of agreement followed JJ’s question as we looked at each other shocked. “That’s a Grady-White. A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy. That’s a primo rig.”

“Yeah. That's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge.” John B informed us after we had all climbed back into the Pogue.

“You surfed the surge?” I asked, concern filling my thoughts.

“What the heck John B?” Kie added in the same tone.

“That's my boy. Pogue style.” JJ congratulated him, as John B nodded confirming what he had just said.

“Wait, wait. Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asked curiously, wanting to know more about the wreck.

“No, but we're about to find out.” John B replied as he went to grab the anchor of the boat.

“Dude, it's too deep.” JJ warned as John B made his way over to the edge of the boat.

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ.” John B challenged as he readjusted the anchor in his grip.

“Well, I'm not resuscitating you. I'm just making that clear up front.”

“That's fine.”

“Diver down, fool.” Pope said while giving John B a mock salute.

“Diver down.” We all called as JJ pushed John B off the side of the boat. We all leaned over the side of the boat anxiously waiting for John B to come back up.

“Should we go get him?” I asked the others in a concerned voice. It felt like he had been gone for ages at this point and I couldn't spot him in the murky water. Moments after I spoke John B broke the surface tension in a fit of coughs.

“Oh, my God. That took forever!” Kie said, relieved as we all allowed John B some space to climb onto the Pogue.

“I found this motel key.” John B supplied holding up the key while he got into the boat.

“Great! We salvaged a motel key.” JJ spoke sarcastically as I inspected the key that John B had found.

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard.” Kie suggested “Maybe we'll get a finder's fee.”

“Yeah, and not work all summer.” JJ added, hopefully as we speed off toward town. “Thanks, Agatha, ya batch.”

🔅🔆🔅

After an unsuccessful talk with the coast guard, as in we were completely ignored because they had no interest in what a group of teenagers had to say, we decided to head straight to the source and check out the motel.

The boat slowed down as we got closer to the motel and began to take in the scene before us. It was a disaster, mattresses thrown on the lawn, windows broken, and trees that had been uprooted or close to it. I had to wonder how much of this damage was caused by the hurricane and how much was caused by a neglectful owner.

“I thought the Château looked bad.” JJ commented from the front of the boat.

“This place is a shitshow.” John B added.

“Doesn't look like a place somebody with a Grady-White stays.” I said, confused as to why someone with such a nice boat would be staying somewhere so rundown.

“No. Looks like a place someone with a Grady-White would get killed.” Pope suggested.

“All right. Here we go.” JJ started jumping out of the boat ready to tie us to the shore. “This is your captain speaking. HMS Pogue comin' in for landing.”

“We good?” John B asked, standing beside me.

“Yeah, we good.” JJ confirmed.

“All right. Here goes nothin'.” I stated, while I tried to take the key from Pope’s hand, who had elected to stay on the boat with Kie as lookouts.

“Hey.” Pope said seriously, while he held the key just out of reach.

“Yeah?”

“Don't let them do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” I gave Pope a reassuring smile as he passed me the key, still holding a look of uncertainty on his face.

“Uh, be careful.” I heard Kie tell John B from behind me. “I mean it.”

JJ offered me his hand as I jumped out of the boat but I just ignored it, still a little mad that he had forgotten about me the day before. I made eye contact with him for a moment and saw a look of confusion grace his features before disappearing. I began walking away from the boat as JJ waited a moment for John B to finish talking to Kie. I listened to them talking behind me.

“Just be so careful, John.” I heard JJ tease as I started making my way across the front lawn of the hotel.

“God, you're so weird.” John B replied.

“What was that about?”

“I don't know. Maybe she wants us to be careful?”

“Ever since she heard you're being threatened with exile, she's just been, like, <Oh! Be so careful, John B.>” JJ mimicked what Kie had told John B earlier as we started to climb the stairs to the second floor. “<Oh, just give me that John D already.> Just ask Iz she sees it too, right Iz?” JJ asked me.

I paused for a moment when I reached the top of the stairs, turning around to meet JJ’s eyes

“Are you done?” I asked in a sour tone.

“What?” He responded with confusion evident in his voice and the smile falling from his face. I rolled my eyes before turning around and beginning to count room numbers. “Why are you so mad at only me? What’d I do?”

“Dude.” I heard John B start saying. “You completely blew her off yesterday.”

I was curious what else they said to each other but their voices became muffled as I walked too far ahead. Stopping at the end of the hall in front of room twenty-nine. I turned to find the boys jogging towards me, John B gave me a small smile and JJ had a look that almost resembled remorse on his face.

“This is it?” John B asked as JJ took the key that I was holding up in front of me.

“Housekeeping.” JJ called out in a shrill voice knocking a few times on the door.

“Should we try it?” John B asked, pointing to the key in JJ’s hand.

“No power. No security cameras. No one's gonna know.” JJ reasoned as he pushed the key into the lock. It felt like we could still get in trouble if we were caught but before I could voice my concerns JJ was already half way into the room.

“Huh.” I muttered, as the two of us followed JJ in. It was dark and smelled of mildew, definitely not the kind of place someone would stay if they had the funds to buy a Grady-White.

“Check the bag. See if there's a name on there somewhere.” John B instructed JJ as I moved past the pair to open the blinds at the side of the room.

“A jacket.”

“No name on the jacket?”

“No. It's a nice jacket, though.”

“Definitely over 50. He's got New Balances.”

I listened to their conversation as I walked across the small room into the bathroom. As I moved through the bathroom and rustled through the medicine cabinet, I heard the beeping of a safe in the other room.

“Uh… JJ? Iz? You’re gonna want to see this” I heard John B call from the other room.

Entering the room I looked at John B first who was looking over to where JJ stood with wide eyes. Following John B’s line of sight my own eyes widened as I realized what JJ was holding.

“Is that a gun?” I asked as if it could be anything else.

“Put the gun back, JJ!” John B tried to reason with him.

“This is a fucking spendy gatt, man. Just…” JJ said, eyes wide like a kid in a candy store. “Bam! Bam!” He mimicked the sound of a gun as he pointed it around the room.

“JJ, we’re not stealing anything.” John B told him for the hundredth time.

“Just take a pic of me. Right here.” JJ pleaded with John B, but my attention had shifted to the sound of a rock landing on the window sill.

I pushed past the boys as they continued arguing with each other, and looked out the window.

“Cops. Cops!” I could see Kie and Pope whisper yell while they pointed in the direction of the door. Turning around quickly I waved at the boys to get their attention.

“Guys, the cops are here.” I told them in a hushed tone. John B moved towards the door to see if he could hear anything. “How are we gonna get out?” I asked them, feeling panic start to rise through my chest.

“Out the window?” John B suggested as he pushed open the small window as far as it would go.

With John B out first and standing to the right of the window, I followed quickly behind him moving to the left so that JJ could get out. In an attempt to keep us from being seen JJ pressed me against the wall of the motel, which meant that I was now pinned between him and the wall. My chest rose and fell unevenly as I squeezed my eyes shut hoping the cops couldn’t see us. As we we’re standing on the ledge I felt JJ’s hand grab on to mine and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Listen Sweetheart, I’m sorry I ditched you yesterday. I didn’t mean to forget.” JJ whispered to me, his head was right next to my ear and I could feel his breath fan out against my skin as he spoke.

“As much as I appreciate your apology, I really don’t think this is the time JJ.” I whispered back terrified of every word that left my tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, sorry.” JJ replied, shifting his weight slightly.

“Guys! Shut. Up.” John B whisper yelled from where he stood on the ledge.

As we both turned to look at John B I felt cold metal touch my free hand, startling me I pulled my hand back swiftly and as I did I heard a clattering as something fell from the ledge.

“JJ, tell me that wasn’t what I think it was?” I demanded as quietly as I could.

“Well you tell me what you think it was and then I’ll tell you it wasn’t.” He said and I could hear the smirk in his voice, shocking me that he could still be joking when we were about to be caught at any moment, I rolled my eyes at him.

🔅🔆🔅

After our narrow escape from the motel, myself and the Pogues were headed towards town, discussing what we were going to do next.

“The cops took everything like it was a crime scene.” John B stated still sounding shocked at what he had seen back at the motel.

“Did you guys find anything?” Pope asked us curiously. My gaze shifted to JJ as I already knew what he had taken.

“Did we find anything? No, I don't think so. Oh, yeah, we did.” JJ responded smiling as he held up the gun, and to my surprise a wad of cash. I let my head fall into my hands wondering how JJ could be so dumb.

“What the hell?” Pope asked standing, panic written all over his features.

“Dude, chill.” JJ started walking over to where Pope stood. “Better than cops having it.”

“I'm gonna lose my merit scholarship.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh.” JJ said, grabbing Pope by the shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. “At least you have us, right?”

“I'm living the nightmare.”

🔅🔆🔅

After a trip to the marina and witnessing Scooter Grubbs get taken away by a coroner, we were back at the Château trying to figure out what to do next.

“Okay. So, um... we didn't see anything.” Pope spoke up as he paced in front of us all. “We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia.”

“Actually, Pope's right for once.” JJ stated, looking at us all. “See, I agree with you sometimes.” He assured Pope. “Deny, deny, deny.”

“Guys, we can't keep that money.” Kie piped into the conversation. “We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it's bad karma.”

“Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too.” I added referring to the gun JJ was still in possession of.

“We gotta go dark.” Pope suggested.

“None of it makes sense.” John B finally said, breaking his silence. “This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about. Same dude that's buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White? Just sayin'.”

“So how does a marina rat get a Grady-White?” I asked, thinking out loud.

“Prostitution.” Pope suggested making me laugh under my breath.

“Okay...” John B stated, trying to move past Pope's comment. “Or maybe they're trying to fly under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don't do that stuff during a hurricane. What does that mean? JJ?”

“They were straight smugglin'.” JJ finished John B’s thought.

“Smugglin'.” John B confirmed. “And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck.”

“For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on the inside of it…” Pope said and I could tell he was thinking about all the terrible outcomes. “...it probably belongs to someone else.”

“Minor details.”

“They could come looking for it.” Pope warned. “Taking it would be catastrophically stupid.”

“Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” JJ reasoned holding up the money that he had now decided belonged to us. “All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck.”

“Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal.” John B added.

“Right. And how exactly do we do that?” I asked. I still felt like Pope was making a lot of good points that the others were not listening to.

“Kegger?” Kie suggested looking at the rest of us for confirmation.

🔅🔆🔅

You can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, the working-class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks.

Later in the day after the sun had set, the kegger was coming to life, basically the entirety of the island's teen population was in attendance and the beach was getting pretty crowded. Earlier on I had been hanging around with JJ, all had been forgiven between us and we were back to cracking jokes.

Up until JJ spotted a girl he wanted to flirt with and I was left alone. Since then I had started chatting with a couple of Tourons who had taken one surfing lesson earlier in the week and now thought they knew everything about the sport. Desperate to make my escape I searched through the crowd for my friends. Just as I was about to make up an excuse I heard shouting from the water.

“Sorry, I have to go.” I told the pair lamely. “I think that’s my friends calling me.”

“Okay. Bye.” They replied as I walked away.

Much to my horror, once I had reached the shore it turned out to actually be my friends shouting, and the shouting had turned into a full out fight. I recognized John B in the water but the Kook he was fighting had their back facing me. I pushed my way through the crowd once I spotted Kie and made my way to stand beside her.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked, looking at her face which was covered in fear.

“Topper and John B started arguing and now they're trying to kill each other.” Kie answered, watching as the fight got worse. That’s when I noticed the Kook Princess, Sarah Cameron, trying to calm down her angry boyfriend.

I used to know Topper when I was young. We had been friends but when I had moved to the Cut we lost touch. Now as he stood over John B I barely recognized him. He wasn’t the young boy I had once known, now he was a cruel person who thought he was better than others just because his parents had money.

“Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?” I heard Topper challenge John B.

After that comment I had had enough and I was desperately looking around the crowd trying to figure out what I could do to stop them. I felt useless as I definitely couldn’t just jump in there, I had no idea how to fight. But we had to do something before Topper killed John B.

As my eyes scanned the crowd I noticed JJ who was already looking at me. His once bright eyes looked dark and it seemed like he knew exactly what he was about to do. I shook my head as I tried to make my way over to him, but he was already stalking towards where Topper and John B fought. I had a feeling I knew what he was about to do but I didn’t want to believe it.

I held my breath as I heard the crowd go silent when JJ clicked the gun's safety off.

“Yeah, you know what that is.” JJ threatened as Topper pulled away from John B. “Your move, broski.”

“Come on. Chill, dude!” Topper responded, trying to reason with him.

“Put the gun down.” Sarah cried desperately.

“Did you say somethin', Princess?” JJ asked, not taking his eyes off of Topper.

“We're good. We're good.” Topper tried to tell him, raising his hands in surrender.

“Kie! Iz! Can you check your psycho friend, please?” I heard Sarah screaming behind me pulling me out of the trance I had been frozen in. I took a few steps closer to JJ but I didn’t want to get too close when he had a gun pointed at someone. I had seen him get in fights before but never like this, this was different. I really thought that he might kill Topper and that terrified me.

“JJ.” I spoke softly so as to not startle him. He turned to glance back at me but kept the gun pointed at Topper who was looking back at us. “Think about what you’re doing.” I continued speaking calmly, meanwhile I could hear Sarah practically sobbing behind me. “You have to let him go.” I said, at this JJ nodded ever so slightly before pulling the gun away from Topper.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” JJ yelled into the crowd of people before shooting the gun into the air.

The second JJ moved Topper was out of sight and Sarah wasn’t far behind. While Kie and Pope began to berate JJ over his actions I ran into the water to go check on John B.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked John B once I reached him, holding his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall back into the water. He mumbled back something incoherent as he swayed in my grasp. “Guys! Can you help?” I asked the three Pogues who still stood arguing behind me.

With their help we got John B out of the water and closer to the fire that had been started a while ago. We all sat silently there for sometime before John B was able to get up again and we all headed home.

🔅🔆🔅

After a sleepless night, we were all back together at the Château, I sat next to Kie as she lazily hit a pair of bongos that sat on the table between us and Pope. JJ was further away in the yard throwing god knows what into the grass. I stood up as I saw John B make his way over to us. Meeting him halfway between the main house and where the rest of our friends were I pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

“What was that for?” He asked, chuckling while he looked at me.

“I’m just glad to see you’re okay. I can’t lose you, any of you guys.” I explained making myself think back to last night.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, I know.” I said the smile returning to my face. “Hey, by the way I saw the cop car driving away this morning, is everything okay?”

“Eh, it’s alright Peterkin stopped by, told me to stay out of trouble and to clean up the house.” John B explained as we made our way over to the others. “Look, I'm callin' it off. All right?” John B announced to everyone. “Peterkin said, if I stay out of the marsh, she'll help me with DCS.”

“And you believed her?” JJ questioned.

“Yes, I believe her, JJ.”

“An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop.” He added, trying to make his point.

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

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

“Topper was gonna drown me?”

“Sure looked like it.”

“Alright, calm down.” I spoke up trying to get them to stop.

“Come on. They always win, don't they, man? Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win!” JJ started to raise his voice.

“Look, it's okay!” Kie reasoned, also trying to help me calm them down.

“No, it's not okay!” JJ argued, turning his attention to John B. “It is not! They don't want us to go down into the marsh. That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it. I know you do. And I understand why you don't wanna go. You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk.” JJ added pointing a finger at Pope. “ And you...I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother?” He asked Kie. “But us three.” He finished looking at John B and I. “We got nothin' to lose!”

“I don't want to talk about this.” John B told JJ as he began to walk away.

“So that's it?” JJ asked and I could tell he was losing hope in John B.

“Just get out of my way, bro.”

“John B, listen to me. I have a plan.”

JJ telling us he had a plan? That was never a good start.

🔅🔆🔅

We all gathered around Kie who was inspecting the tanks that John B had stolen from the Cameron's. JJ had tried to argue that we were going to return them so technically we were just borrowing them but I didn’t think the Cameron's would see it that way or the cops they would inevitably call if they found out.

“This is empty. You took empty tanks? I…” Kie told John B sounding defeated. “Okay, this one's a quarter full. It's enough for one of us. Love it when a plan comes together. Does anybody know how to dive?”

“It's kind of a Kook sport.” JJ replied.

“I... read about it.” Pope responded cautiously.

“Great, Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die.” Kie reasoned.

“Look, y-you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?” JJ asked.

“If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends.” Pope told him.

“Bends like, bend over and…” JJ asked, making me roll my eyes at him.

“The bends kill you.” Pope said seriously and JJ straightened up.

“I can do it.” I finally said standing up at the front of the boat. “I went diving a few times with my dad when I was younger.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” JJ stated, a look of worry crossing his features.

“I’ll be fine, it’s like riding a bike, you don’t forget.” I reasoned. “Right?”

“Let me do some calculations real quick.” Pope said while he looked through his bag for a notebook.

“Are you serious? You’re gonna do some calculations right now?” John B teased Pope with a smile on his face.

“Hey, let the man do his calculations, alright?” JJ told John B before glancing over at me again.

“That boat's about 30 feet down. Okay.” Pope stated, thinking out loud. “So it'll take 25 minutes at that depth.”

“Twenty-five.” I confirmed half listening to him half focusing on keeping my hands from shaking, suffice to say I was a little nervous.

“Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... ten feet. All right? For two minutes.”

“Okay, ten feet, two minutes.” I confirmed, attempting to remember everything he was telling me.

Kie suddenly stood up from her spot and jumped off the side of the boat, disappearing into the dark water.

“What was that all about?” Pope asked, distracted.

“I don't know, but I liked it. A lot.” JJ commented.

“Anything else I need to know?” I asked, looking at the boys who were all very clearly still thinking about what Kie had just done.

“All right. Yeah. Uh, when you... uh, when you're down there, you look for the cargo hold.” John B stated remembering where he was.

“You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?” JJ told me, holding up a key and miming it in the air.

“Yeah I think I know how a lock works JJ.” I told him sarcastically, as I took the key from his grasp.

“Hey! I tied my T-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down.” Kie said finally emerging from the water. “It's where you need to do your safety stop.”

“Okay, thanks.” I responded giving her a smile before pulling the heavy tank onto my back. I could barely pull the straps tight because of how much my hands were shaking. Seeing me struggle, JJ made his way over to me and finished strapping me in. Giving a thumbs up as he took a step back.

“Keep an eye on this.” Pope said, pointing to the console attached to the tank before handing it to me. “You need to make sure you have enough air to decompress.”

“Okay, how much do I need?” I asked.

“Unclear.” He answered truthfully after a brief pause. “Breathe as little as possible.”

“Zen. Think Zen, you know?” JJ commented trying to get me to relax. He took my hand in his while I looked around at everyone.

“Yeah. Got it.” I responded, moving closer to the edge of the boat.

“Hey, if we get caught in the marsh, we're basically screwed, so... better get a move on.” Pope said. I knew he was just trying to be helpful but it did not help me feel very Zen.

I was about to pull down my mask from where it was sitting on top of my head when I realized JJ still had a tight grip on my hand.

“I’m gonna need this.” I told him, holding up our interlocked hands.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” He said, awkwardly letting go of my hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “Be careful, yeah?”

“I’ll be fine.” I responded, but I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him of myself. “Diver down?”

“Diver down.” My friends all confirmed as I pulled the mask down over my face before jumping into the water.

🔅🔆🔅

A couple of minutes after Iz had dove off the edge of the Pogue, the rest of the group sat waiting anxiously in silence for their friend to return. Well everyone but JJ who was currently pacing back and forth across the floor of the small boat, seemingly mumbling something under his breath about how Iz would be fine. The other Pogues watched, baffled as to how he could do things like this and yet still not realize how he truly felt about the girl who had just dove into the water.

JJ and the rest of the Pogues were pulled out of their thoughts by the sound of sirens and the flashing lights of a police boat.

“Shit.” Kie said, alerting everyone that the cops were pulling up next to them.

“Guys, that's the police.” Pope said, the panic in his voice rising with each word.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” John B said standing up.

“Yep, that's the police. Just act frickin' normal.” JJ confirmed what they were all seeing, meanwhile acting the least natural the Pogues had ever seen him. JJ never panicked. “Evening, officers.”

“How you kids doing?” Deputy Shoupe asked the group, passing a rope over to connect the boats. “You know the marsh is closed?”

“No. No. Wow. I didn't know that. Why... Why is it closed?” Pope asked, trying to look calm.

“Well, we're conducting a search out here. Boat went down. Seen anything?”

“No. No boats. No.” John B responded.

“Where's your other friend you always hang out with? Who’s that, Bailer’s kid, uh, Isabella? She here?” Shoupe asked.

“She's working.” Kie lied.

“Hm.” Shoupe hummed, not entirely convinced. “I'm gonna check your little boat out.”

“Yeah, hop aboard.” John B said, waving a hand. “You wanna check... uh, check her out.”

Meanwhile below the surface Iz had found what she was looking for and began unlocking the hold.

After Shoupe had inspected their life jackets, he made his way to the front of the boat, putting his sunglasses on and looking out onto the water. From the back of the boat JJ also scanned the water, he thought that he saw something move beneath the surface and prayed that Shoupe hadn’t seen the same thing.

🔅🔆🔅

After getting into the hold I found a small bag and took it with me as I swam towards the anchor of the boat so I could make my safety stop before heading back up.

From my spot ten feet below the surface I looked up, noticing the shadow of a new boat and someone looking into the water. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as if that would help me keep from getting caught before opening them and looking at the console in my left hand. There was less than thirty seconds of air left and I was panicking even more than before.

Just in time the figure left and moments later the second boat disappeared. With my last breath of air I swam to the surface pulling off my mask as I took a huge breath of fresh air.

“There she is!” JJ pointed at me letting out a sigh of relief. “Don’t scare us like that!”

“How'd it go down there?” John B asked as I made my way to the ladder on the back of the boat.

“Did you find anything?” Pope asked, pulling me up.

“Did I find anything?” I answered the question by holding up the small duffle bag that I had found in the hold.

“Yeah, there we go! That's my girl!” JJ hollered scooping me up into a hug as John B took the bag from me.

“Jeez.” I laughed as JJ let go of me again and Kie made her way to my side.

“You okay?” She asked, a look of concern painting over her usual happy expression.

“Yeah, I ran out of air.” I said trying not to worry her but realizing my words did the opposite of that.

“You scared the shit out of me.” JJ said, snaking an arm around my waist. I knew he just thought of me as a friend but his actions still gave me butterflies, it was nice to know he cared.

“Yeah, the cops were up here, but, uh... we took care of 'em.” Pope informed me.

“Hey, guys? Guys, bogey, two o'clock.” Kie said, pulling us from our previous conversation.

“Do you recognize that boat?” Pope asked.

“I've never seen it.”

“What are they doing here? The marsh is closed.” John B asked and I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of his words, after all we knew better than to be there and yet here we were.

“Let's not stick around and find out.” JJ stated, moving to the front of the boat.

“Should we wait on 'em?” Pope asked.

“Are you joking?” I asked, helping start the boat up. “JJ, hurry up.”

“Guys, don't wait for me. Go.” JJ told us as he pulled the anchor up as fast as he could.

“Go right.” I suggested to John B who was standing behind the wheel, thinking if we went further into the marsh they might not follow us.

“Let's go!” Kie rushed as the boat turned behind us. “Hey, guys, they're following us.”

“This can't be good.” I said as JJ moved to stand beside me.

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” JJ urged John B as the boat began to gain on us.

“I'm going!” He said while trying to maneuver the marsh that was filled with thick weeds.

Looking back I noticed that one of the men had leant down and was now standing back up holding something I could quite make out.

“Uh, guys what is that?” I asked as everyone but John B looked back.

“What the…” Pope started but the rest of his question died out at the sound of a gunshot.

As everyone one dropped down to the floor of the boat I felt as if I had been pushed, there was a heavy weight on my chest.

“Holy shit!” I heard Kie mutter as I opened my eyes realizing that JJ was on top of me. This was now the second time in the past two days that I had been pinned between JJ and another surface. Had it been under different circumstances I might have been able to enjoy it.

“John B, get down!” I heard JJ yell as I felt the vibrations of his voice echo through my own chest.

“We're gonna die!” I heard Pope say hopelessly from beside me.

“Shit! Pope, move.” Kie muttered, I couldn’t see much but I thought I saw Kie walking to the back of the boat carrying something.

“Get down, Kie!” John B yelled as the man in the other boat continued to shoot at us.

Then the shooting stopped as the sound of the other boat died out.

“Oh my god.” Pope sighed, sounding very relieved as everyone started to get back up except for JJ.

“JJ?” I asked, looking up at him. His face turned towards me, inches away from mine as he hovered over me.

“Yeah?” He asked, sounding completely oblivious.

“You gonna let me get up?” I asked, smiling.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that Sweetheart.” He said standing before he offered me his hand. A look flashed across his face that I couldn’t quite recognize, if I didn’t know better I would think it was disappointment?

🔅🔆🔅

After arriving back at the Château we all gathered on the dock. To take a look at what I had found in the hold of the Grady-White.

“What do you think it is?” Kie asked us.

“Gotta be money, right?” John B responded with another question.

“That or a couple of keys with street value from the low-to-mid-mils!” JJ added.

“Can we please just open the bag?” Pope let out looking impatient.

“Wow, Pope. That's a rare outburst of emotion.” John B teased as he stretched out the wait even longer.

“Okay. You guys are literally killing me with anticipation.” I said in the same boat as Pope, urging them to hurry up.

“Alright Sweetheart, calm down.” JJ said from beside me putting a hand on my arm to calm me down.

“We almost died over this.” Pope added to our argument to open the bag faster.

John B opened the bag pulling out a metal canister. After opening that too he let the contents spill out onto his hand. Disappointment rose up as we looked to see that all it was was an old compass. While taking a second look I thought that I recognized it from somewhere but wasn’t sure.

“Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right.” Pope stated, standing from his crouched position. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.”

“Dude, what? It's not worth anything.” JJ told John B who was staring at the compass in awe.

“This was my father's.” Were the only words that left John B’s lips.

🔅🔆🔅

After the disappointment of not finding much of anything after we all risked our lives we all headed home. Entering my house the sun was setting outside and it seemed empty. But my Mom’s car was parked just off the road and I could hear faint talking coming from the back of the house. I walked through the living room and kitchen, past the stairs that led to the loft which was my Mom’s room. Past my own room and the bathroom before coming to a stop in front of my little sister’s door. Leaning against the door frame, I saw my Mom reading Emmy a book by candle light, I assumed that the power was still out.

Walking back to the main room I started to make myself a sandwich, realizing that I hadn’t eaten much of anything all day. Just as I was about to take the first bite. I heard Emmy’s door close and my Mom entered the room, holding a candle in her hand.

“Hey, Honey.” She greeted me as she set down the candle. “How was your day?”

“Good.” I responded in between bites of the sandwich I had made. “Pretty uneventful.”

“Really?” She asked, almost surprised. “I saw Shoupe on my way out of town and he said that he saw your friends out on the marsh when they were doing their search for Scooter’s boat. He also said that you weren't there. Your friends told him something about you working, but I didn’t know you were working at all for a few days.”

“Oh really?” I said trying to figure out how to cover the real story up. “Um, Mr. Cameron came down and asked if I could pick up another shift. I guess his kids have been spending a lot of time inside since the storm so it was a bit of a mess over there.”

“He drove all the way down here?”

“Yeah well since the phone lines are down he couldn’t call.”

“Huh, it seems strange he would come all the way down when he could just wait a couple more days for us to come over.”

“Yeah well it was really bad. I would have taken pictures if my phone wasn’t dead.”

“Oh no I don’t need pictures, I’ve met those kids and cleaned that house, I believe that they could make a terrible mess.” She said seemingly believing everything I was telling her, she paused for a moment before asking another question. “You don’t know why your friends were in the marsh do you?”

“Well” I started, thinking about what I could say that would get us all off the hook. “They were actually waiting to pick me up. Yeah. Cause I went up to Figure Eight with Mr. Cameron but I didn’t want to make him drive me all the way home. So they hung out in the marsh I guess while they waited.”

“How’d you call them?” Mom asked, picking apart my story.

“Walkie Talkies.” I blurted out. “You know the ones that Heyward got Pope and I a few years ago? And that must have been why they were in the marsh even though it was closed. You know cause the walkie talkies only work for a certain radius, and the Cameron house is probably too far from here.”

“Yeah I guess so.” She said moving towards me to grab my now empty plate.

“Thanks.” I said, as she put my plate in the sink. “I think I’m gonna head back over to John B’s if that's okay.”

“Of course just don’t forget to sleep at some point. You do still require sleep.” She told me.

“I know, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you!” I heard her call after me as I closed the door and made the short walk over to John B’s where I saw him and JJ lounging on the porch.

🔅🔆🔅

#outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank #jj obx #obx #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader

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anotherbeingsworld · 4 years

Text

The Last Seconds of Fate

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Summary: This is my attempt on a rewrite for the diamond scene in chapter 11 with Bryce , but.. I kinda put it in my own twist.

Inspo: Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

Warnings: mentions of dying. Besides that, none.

A/N: It’s back to back fics for now, I just hand in my first ever assignment and why not a celebratory fic djdkdkdk! I may be busy in days to come, but.. I will try my very best to write more! Writing has been an outlet for me this year, and it definitely made me very happy! I hope all of you are enjoying it so far, thank you for all the sweet comments on my past fics! It has been an honour, and I really hope you enjoyed this one too! Special thanks to @fantasyoverreality98 , @mvalentine and @bratzlahela for assuring me about this fic! I wasnt feeling much confident about it, but.. I feel proud of it! It doesn’t follow the scene from the book, it is somehow... my own way of writing it! I am very terrified about this, since I don’t want to mess it up. JSDHSJD, enough babbling! Enjoy!!

Tags: @bitchloveskcbaseball , @storyofmychoices @jaxsmutsuo , @mvalentine , @princess-geek , @lahellacute , @kacie-0156-deactivated20200905 , @this-person-is-busy , @annekebbphotography , @brycelahel, @mrsbhandari , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @choices-confessions , @aylamwrites , @fantasyoverreality98 , @drakewalker04 , @baltersome , @thecordoniandiaries , @thundergom @starrystarrytrouble, @ohramsey , @kelseaaa , @rookie-ramsey , @bratzlahela , @ohvamsey , @choicesficwriterscreations , @soft-for-drake , @lalizah

LINK TO MY MASTERLIST

The room was quiet, as it was only Casey and Bryce. Both of them are laying down on the hospital bed, which is too small for their liking. But, nothing ever stop them before. The way his arms were wrapped around her waist. Beneath the suit, as it gave her a sense of comfort and homey feeling inside of her. Somehow, being in his arms felt like being back at home, where she felt safe from the monsters and stories that can be seen on the other side of it all.

It was them against the world, time, and all the forces in between. The day went by as a traumatic experience for both of them, a day they never expected to see. It felt as if the universe is giving them a sign, somehow that life can be very short for both of them. Tomorrow will never be guaranteed, as long as we learn how to enjoy the present.

‘If it was my last night, do you have anything you want to tell me?’ Casey started, earning a look of sadness in his face. An expression that wasn’t well known to the scalpel jockey. It was new, every day she realizes, there was always something new about one Bryce Lahela. The tricks he had on his sleeve that manage to blow her mind, he never failed to be the reason she was smiling every day.

‘Casey…’ The softness in his voice made her heart soothe, as the longing to be with him after all this time.

‘Answer me, please…’ She took his hands in hers, as she lets out a squeeze. His eyes soften, a sad expression was plastered on his face followed by a long silence. Somehow, he was constructing an answer in his mind, and honestly. He can’t think of anything, not even an answer crosses his mind, until he suddenly blurts it out.

‘I love you.’

The words left his mouth, a spontaneous act that he never saw it coming. Bryce felt a pang of nervousness, as the 8 letters left his mouth in a sudden manner. Casey was speechless, as they never made it official, but… deep down, she knows every interaction they had, every kiss, hug, moments they had together was better than anything in this world. It felt like a rare presence that she never expected, but didn’t know she needed it.

Love. It is subjective, as everyone will fall in love, out of love, and maybe not at all. The feeling of comfort of love plays a huge role in everyone’s life. Some say it can be a motivator, and maybe a goal to foreseen at the end of the road; marriage. Or, maybe it's just the feeling of being free with that certain someone, who can lift your spirits up with a snap of a finger. But, being there with Bryce. It wasn’t any of those, it was the feeling of being where we were supposed to be.

She always counted on the odds, reeling on the what if’s as medicine was never about the odds. It was a balance of everything as their goal at the end was to find a cure, in order to make life happier at the end of the day. The love of it all made her realize that this field of career, was what she always wanted. And, everything in her life had to happen which leads her to this moment, where she almost died. Or, maybe she will.

‘What about you?’ He brings up a similar question, as the last three words from his mouth are playing like a broken record in her mind.

‘Me?”

He nods slowly, as he was somewhat curious as they were wrapped around each other’s arms with their own companion, the dark night sky as the time was somehow counting down slowly, as maybe it was her final time being in his arms.

‘I am happy to spend the last night of my entire life with you.’ The words felt like vomit coming from her mouth, a truth that she didn’t know she needed.

‘…It’s not your last night Casey, you’ll be here tomorrow. Waking up happily here, as we presume our life forward with each other.’ Bryce’s voice started to broke slowly, an act that she didn’t see coming.

‘Bryce…’ She gazes into his eyes, somewhat it looked different than the ones she used to see at their early walks to the hospital, or when he scores a surgery. It looked somber, somehow the hopefulness in his eyes was absent leaving a sense of fear and dread that was clouding it all.

He strokes her cheeks, somehow examining it after all this time. The way he looked at you, with a sense of fear in him, as your tragedy cast a storm above his head. Despite being in the hazmat suit, it didn’t stop him from leaving warmth on your cold fingers, stroking it slowly and gently with the similar feeling that he always leave you. A breeze of intensity, and the calmness of the ocean.

In a matter of seconds, the tears in your eyes fall. A sudden reaction that is never expected, it felt like a chemical reaction at that moment as the moments in the past circulates with her.

‘It will never be the last night, this is… you are gonna be alright. You will be alright.’ He strokes her hair, as he somehow is memorizing the felt of her smooth hair, it was a little habit of his. It was a sudden reaction, a way of affection.

‘...how do you know that? I don’t feel like it, it felt like the end; I didn’t get to do anything as this is the final place I am gonna be before I died.’ Casey keeps on talking, as Bryce couldn’t hold it in anymore.

‘No, you are not dying tonight or any night. This world is not ready to say goodbye to you, hell… I don’t think I will ever see the world without you in it. You are staying here, and I-..’ He stops himself, taking a deep breath as she sat on the hospital bed. A discourage look on her face says it all, somehow he has a way of looking past her façade, and the way her eyes cast the sense of worry, he knew something was wrong. He stood up from the bed, making his way around towards her.

He is standing in front of her, as Casey’s head is down. He took her hands in his, and squeeze it lightly capturing her attention once more.

It was silence in the room, the sounds of machines were slowly heard in the background as she started to humming. She loved to sing, but it was always just a hobby; since she had become one of the usual for karaoke night at Donahue’s with Bryce which is one of her favorite memories with him.

So, before you go,

Her voice bounces through the walls, as the sealed room made it much louder. The tears started to fall in between, as the news of Danny and Bobby made her heart cry in despair. They don’t deserve this, they don’t deserve to be the one who had to say goodbye.

Was there something I could've said to make your heartbeat better?

Her eyes gaze into his, a strong inferior behind those emeralds, as an attempt to kept herself together.

If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather

She knew she could do better, she knew she can stop them all by pushing them all away. Giving her a chance to do something once, as Rafael’s state floats in her mind, torturing her. Seeing him that way, as the storm hits her once more, where she stood there hoping that it was going to be her.

Her voice was cut off with a sob, as Bryce leans forward. Their foreheads meet through the glass of the hazmat suit, she wanted to give up. He doesn’t want to let her go, as time is the only essence they had left.

The silence of the night, made his heart leap in nervousness, her heartbeat was still there as she finally falls herself into a deep slumber. The quiet killed him, as he doesn’t want to close his eyes. The fear of her being taken away from him very soon made him wept in silence. She looked peaceful, as the day finally gets slower, where it felt like time was never moving at all. Right now, there was nothing he could do. A soft hummed was heard during the early hours of the day, as it was almost time.

---------------------------

‘I will always, honestly, truly, completely love you.’ Was one of her favorite quotes from a movie called; Love, Rosie. She told him about her love for it, as they were having a sleepover of their own, a classic tale of second chances and fate.

Fate was sensitive subject, as he always lived his life in a flow. A path that leads him to the unknown, but when it comes to Casey. Someone who waltzed into his life, as a colleague turns to be more, the flow seems to be a back-up plan instead. Seeing herself in that position, made him wonder if fate would ever turn around for her, or for them.

The lights brought him back to life, as the diagnostics team along with the doctors from Mass Kenmore made their way into the room. A pleasant look on their faces gave him a beacon of hope, a small chance for her to fight.

Ethan walks toward him, a small nod was given in his way. Bryce glances at Casey’s figure who looks peacefully asleep, as a brink of tears falls once more. She is going to make it.

‘We will save her Bryce.’ His voice is slow, not wanting to wake her up. Bryce nods with a head full of thoughts and happiness, that he suddenly pulled Dr. Ramsey into an engulfed hug. A sense of adrenaline was splashed out, as he felt himself smiling all the way through it all.

‘Thank you.’

Ethan just nods, a small smile was hinted on his face. Knowing that he would lose a friend as well, during it all. Both of them stayed that way before it was time to test it out. The moment where all of their lives gonna change once again.

------------------------------

The smile on her face, as the doors were opened to them. The gratefulness on her face, as she ran into his arms. His arms securely around her waist, as she survived. She did it.

She survived, and she is not going to wait anymore.

‘I love you too.’

THE END.

A/N: Heyyy, so I hope all of you enjoyed it! I am very terrified but, hey... i am very proud of it aswell! Thank you so much for reading, and I will see ya soon!! <3

#bryce x mc #bryce lahela #casey valentine #playchoices #open heart #open heart second year #bryce x f!mc #anotherbeingsworldwrites #fics

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scarlettlawyer · 3 years

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This is fanfiction of a fanfiction! Specifically, the Phantoms and Mirages fanfiction series by Meowzy (renegadewangs on tumblr), which can be found over at AO3! This post’s fic contains SPOILERS for the series up until the end of Lifting Spirits, the fourth installment. If you have not read the Phantoms & Mirages series up until at least the end of Lifting Spirits, it will not make a lick of sense to you either! So I would highly recommend checking the series out first if you would like to give this post a read. I would still recommend checking it out if you don’t want to give this post a read too! :P

Anyway here is the little thing I wrote just in case others would like to read it :)

-------------------

Date: December 25th 2028 Time: 10:14 AM Location: Wright Anything Agency.

It was Christmas morning, and it had been six days since his client had been handed down the death sentence in court.

The execution had already been carried out, he’d heard. Just as swiftly as the court’s verdict promised.

Phoenix Wright wasn’t feeling especially festive, but it was Christmas, so putting a smile on his face and doing his best to carry on as usual was the least he could do. He had to, at least for Trucy’s sake. It wouldn’t be fair to let recent grim events detract from her celebrating and enjoying today.

But he supposed he couldn’t act like this was just like any other Christmas, either. They’d rarely seen Athena in the past few days – she had taken the outcome of the trial especially hard.

And Apollo…

There’d been friction as of late. That was undeniable, and impossible to avoid. He’d starkly disagreed with his and Athena’s actions starting back when they’d acted as the Phantom’s defense team, but he’d soon learned afterwards how that had all been a ploy, and then Apollo had quickly understood, any discontent completely washed away.

It had been for a good cause, after all – to ensure that the spy known as Mirage was caught and faced justice. The Phantom’s role in that trial had only been relevant insofar as it had furthered that goal; it had nothing to do with Phoenix and Athena actually supporting him or advocating on his behalf outside of that. Once Apollo realised that, he’d been at ease once more and all was well.

The trial for Alexander Luster Jr., though, that was different. There was no ploy; it was a completely genuine and earnest attempt to seek a second chance to be granted for a man to turn his life around for the better, and for him to have a future. Athena and Phoenix had actively chosen to stand by that man’s side and fight for his second chance.

And that core stance was the source of the fundamental and insurmountable disagreement between Apollo and the two of them. Apollo could not, and would not understand their decision to advocate for that second chance. Phoenix couldn’t entirely blame him, and it would be unfair to expect Apollo to understand.

It didn’t matter now; they’d lost, in the end. Alexander Luster Jr., the Phantom, whatever you wanted to call him, was dead now. Apollo’s stance had ultimately won out and it was the one that the court system had officially endorsed.

—————-

Date: December 19th 2028 Time: 12:04 PM Location: District Court – Courtroom No. 4.

He continued to stand by the defense’s bench in the wake of the verdict, motionless and paralysed, as his client was carried away screaming, forced towards his impending death.

There was nothing Phoenix could do but stand there uselessly. His mind was blank as the chaos went on around him.

And just like that, his client had been taken away, but the impact of the day’s events was still unfolding everywhere in the courtroom.

Whenever he was involved in a case, the court had never really come to the wrong decision before. Even when losing a case, there hadn’t been any issue because it was the correct and just outcome. The only other time the outcome of a trial he’d defended in had felt so utterly wretched and bleak and wrong was when he’d lost his badge.

His badge…

A very dark moment passed over him. If he couldn’t ensure a just outcome, if he couldn’t protect his client, then what was the point? Why stand in court?

He stood frozen, and the sudden mad urge to tear off his badge subsided. There was no way he could cast it aside so easily, not after everything he’d been through. That wouldn’t be right either. He couldn’t do that to Trucy. And Edgeworth had done so much to help him and to get it back.

To throw it all away… it was something he felt that he probably would have done many years ago, if he hadn’t been able to bring Matt Engarde to justice. But this situation wasn’t quite so dire, and back then he hadn’t had a daughter and two apprentices to think about. Back then, he’d never experienced having his badge taken away from him either, hadn’t suffered so much and for so long before he could get it back again.

But ultimately, what did this symbolic representation of his membership to the legal profession even amount to? He’d been proven useless in the end. It was all futile. He was supposed to act as an agent of the law to ensure justice for all. It was supposed to result in justice for everyone, but… Phoenix wasn’t so sure what to think about that anymore.

Still, he had duties that he was bound by. Duties to the people around him, and to carry on with his work… he just needed to make sure he didn’t suddenly find himself entrapped by the very things that used to feel freeing.

Time passed, and the courtroom grew to be practically empty. He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but it must have been a while.

He started to walk. It was an aimless gesture with no real intent, hardly paying attention to where his feet might be carrying him.

“Daddy, there you are…! Polly and I, we found-”

“-Athena,” Phoenix said automatically upon catching sight of her. She was looking quite the worse for wear, and Apollo was standing by her side, awkwardly trying to offer support.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here for you. It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to be sad. There’s no use crying over him - think of how much the Phantom has taken from us all. He can’t hurt anyone anymore, now. It’s over and it’s best we all move on… There was never really any other way. This was necessary for-”

“You don’t GET to decide when someone’s life ending is NECESSARY, Apollo!”

Apollo started back in shock, Athena’s sudden fierce tone forcing him into silence as she continued.

“Do you think that his death will magically make the past better? Can it undo anything that’s already been done?! Who are you to decide that a human life should be offered up as some kind of,” she waved her hand about wildly, “sacrificial stepping stone for your own personal development to make you feel better? Execution doesn’t bring back the dead. It only adds to the death! Another lifeless body thrown upon the pile.”

Widget had turned from dark blue to red in a flash at Apollo’s words, before reverting back to a deep blue once more. Evidently, Apollo hadn’t expected his attempt to console her to be met with such defiant anger. After a few moments, his response came, unusually quiet, but firm and resolute.

“You’re right. It’s not for me to decide. It’s for the courts to decide. And a conclusion has already been reached for this case. It’s not about feeling better – it’s about what’s right, and what needs to be done. It’s about justice. The sooner you see that, the sooner you can heal.”

“You think-,” she broke off, her voice struggling with the effort it took stave off sobs. “You call this justice? Lex – didn’t want – to h-hurt anyone! He just wanted - to live! He was a – new person, and-,” she then shook her head, breathing heavily. “I’ve gotta go.” At that, she rushed out the door.

Apollo sighed, his expression dismayed and stern. “She’s too far gone,” Phoenix heard him mutter to himself.

“Apollo-”

“No, Mr Wright. Do you expect me to feed the idealistic fantasies she’s constructed? Because I can’t. It’s not healthy… For either of us. I just can’t- I mean, don’t you think… things have been hard enough as it is? Every now and then, I still find myself checking my phone on occasion, expecting to see a new message from Clay… Out of habit. Even thinking about that… Phantom is a constant painful reminder. I’m sick of it - I don’t want to have to hear about that killer anymore, and I shouldn’t have to.”

Apollo paused to catch his breath and calm down somewhat, and Phoenix let him.

“’Who am I to decide’…? Who was the Phantom to decide that ending Clay’s life – anyone’s life was necessary? There’s no use… distorting things into such a one-sided picture, because life doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t matter who you are, in the end. What’s done is done, and everyone needs to be held to equal standards of accountability for their own actions. Isn’t that what justice is? No one is so special that they are above the law, yet even you seem to need reminding of that right now. She should know – and we should know this better than anyone. We’re lawyers. This is how our legal system works!”

Alexander Luster’s final, terrified and desperate screams that had filled the air as he begged and pleaded for his life before he was dragged from the courtroom were still ringing in his mind, branded deeply, haunting him with the horror of a life knowingly about to be cut off. The inherent horror of the awareness there must be, that it was your life at its end, your life that you barely knew.

This is how… their legal system works.

This can’t be right.

It shouldn’t have ended like this. It was his fault. He could have prevented this. He could have done more. He could have saved a life, if he’d just tried harder.

It was all… wrong.

“…I’m sorry, Apollo. This is one case where… we won’t be able to see eye to eye. We don’t have to agree on this; you don’t have to understand. Right now, I think we should just give each other space.”

Apollo’s mouth set in a grim line. “Fine. Next I see you, I hope you’ll have actually regained some of your senses.” And with that, he stormed off.

Maybe Apollo was right, in a sense. Maybe the system was working exactly as it was supposed to. The courts would swallow up input, spit out a result, and whatever that result happened to be the citizens are demanded to gaze upon it and call it “justice”. If it pleased or displeased the masses, then so be it. Maybe, on some level, the idea was that the result didn’t have to make sense. Maybe there just had to be one, so that everyone else would then be free to go home and carry on with their lives, their legal truths set in stone.

—————-

Date: December 25th 2028 Time: 10:21 AM Location: Wright Anything Agency.

The next he did see Apollo after that, neither of them had said a word about the incident.

It would be wrong for Phoenix to hold Apollo’s feelings about it all against him, and he didn’t. Apollo had lost his best friend. And Apollo knew that the verdict had dealt a blow to both Athena and Phoenix. Even if he clearly disapproved and thought that the Phantom wasn’t worth anyone’s time up until the very end, he made a point of doing his best to not say anything that would exacerbate the strain that was present or add any unnecessary grief, after that instance gone awry. It was an unspoken intent to keep the peace amongst them; neither would voice any of the internal thoughts that may upset the other when in their presence.

Lessons had been learned when Apollo had unintentionally overstepped, but Athena had been the first one to apologise when they’d crossed paths the next day. She apologised for yelling at him, and he apologised for unintentionally making things worse, and they were able to leave it at that.

Even so, their interactions had been rather stiff as of late. After all, there was still the uncomfortable fact hanging over the three of them that Apollo was pleased with the very same verdict that had left Athena crying out desperately, even attempting to stop the Interpol agents from taking the former spy away. So much for the Wright Anything Agency all coming together for Christmas…

So there it was: Apollo was happy with the outcome. Athena was devastated. And Phoenix, well…

Phoenix still personally disagreed with Apollo and could not internalise the Judge’s decision as the right one.

So here he was, still a lawyer, on Christmas morning. He was acting cheerful, and so was Trucy. She’d loved her presents, just as Phoenix had hoped, and hugged him enthusiastically as she’d thanked him. But Trucy was a smart girl and must have known not everything was currently as well as it could be, and that relations among the Wright Anything Agency had seen better days. Maybe, to some extent, she was actively injecting enthusiasm into her demeanour for that reason, too.

He just needed to keep staving off the depressing thoughts. He had time… time to come to terms with the verdict, and what it might mean, on some other day. Today was for focusing on family.

Suffice it to say, given everything, he hadn’t been expecting Athena to march right through the door with such lightness and energy to her demeanour.

“Merry Christmas!” she exclaimed, a bright grin settling on her face. She dumped a bag on the floor which Phoenix could see contained some wrapped gifts.

“Merry Christmas, Athena! Good to see you,” Trucy beamed.

“So what’s the go, Boss? I sure hope you’ve got a big Christmas lunch on the way, ‘cause I’m hungry!”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly, a little taken off-guard. He hadn’t even had the chance to greet her yet! “W-wait, but if you’re hungry, didn’t you have anything this morning?”

Athena reached up to tap at her earring, causing it to sway. “Well, I did have brunch just earlier with Simon and Bobby, but… The point is, I know I will be hungry once it’s lunchtime!” She thrust a peace sign in Phoenix’s direction and continued, “Big meals are an essential part of Christmas, anyway!”

Phoenix might have thought that she was forcing some kind of cheerful act, were it not for the fact that Widget was glowing green with genuine happiness. But even if it wasn’t for that, he would have been hard-pressed to deny the essential truth that her high spirits seemed to ring with.

“So, um… Where’s Apollo?” she asked, her tone softening a little.

“Ah,” was all Phoenix offered in reply.

“Maybe… you should give him a call? Invite him over. That’s- if he’s not busy with other plans, that is. We can’t have a Wright Anything Agency Christmas party without him, after all.”

“Hah, there’s nothing Polly could be too busy with that he can’t drop it all at a moment’s notice to see us! Isn’t that right, Daddy?” Trucy urged.

“Ahaha, I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

—————-

Date: December 25th 2028 Time: 1:34 PM Location: Wright Anything Agency.

As it turned out, although Apollo was involved in other plans and couldn’t leave immediately, he had promised to be there in the afternoon. He should be arriving any minute, now.

It was strange; Phoenix really hadn’t thought they’d be able to salvage the day to this extent, but here they were. It was just as it should be – everyone was upbeat, Apollo was on his way over, and they could all forget any troubles. Phoenix didn’t need to pretend to be upbeat as they played makeshift games and unwrapped more presents. It was just a shame that Edgeworth wouldn’t be arriving until a bit later, too, but once he did, there’d still be all the rest of the afternoon and the evening to spend together at the Wright Agency Christmas party.

Speaking of which, he’d needed to leave the main room to take a phone call from Edgeworth. It had gone on for longer than planned, and he stopped himself just before stepping back into the room once the call was over, not wanting to intrude on the solemn exchange of words that seemed to be taking place between Athena and Trucy.

“-was so worried. You’re sure you’re okay?” Trucy was saying.

Phoenix hadn’t meant to overhear that, but in truth, this had been nagging at the back of his mind as well. It seemed odd for Athena to have bounced back to normal so quickly… And the worst of times are when lawyers have to force their biggest smiles.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, I promise.”

Trucy nodded. “…Alright, I believe you.”

“Besides, today’s not the day to go around being gloomy… But thank you. It’s touching that you care.”

And when Trucy left the room to get some materials prepared for an elaborate magic trick so it could be ready for Apollo’s arrival, it was Phoenix’s turn to speak to Athena one-on-one.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. You said you had brunch with Blackquill and Agent Fulbright this morning, didn’t you? How… How are they?”

“Ohh…” Athena seemed to think carefully for a moment, searching for the right words. “I think… they’re going to be okay. I think they’re going to be just fine.”

“Hmm…” I’m sorry, he wanted to say, I feel like I let them both down. And I let you down, too. But there was something holding him back. “And what about you?”

“Me? Come on, Boss. I know you heard what I said to Trucy earlier – you’re not that subtle with your eavesdropping, you know. I’m alright, and how could I not be? It’s Christmas Day and I’ve been spending it with my friends.”

Ahh, caught red-handed, it seemed. “But, aren’t you… sad?” he tried. Something still didn’t seem to add up.

“Of course I’m sad–”

… Interesting.

“-but there’s a time and a place for sadness. I don’t want to be all miserable right now. I don’t want to focus on less pleasant things. So, let’s continue enjoying the rest of today. …Mr. Wright?”

“R-Right! You’re right.” His phone beeped. “Ah… Apollo will be here in five minutes.”

In actuality, Apollo arrived in three minutes’ time, bearing presents of his own. After responding to Trucy’s enthusiastic welcome, there was a brief awkward silence when he caught sight of Athena.

“…Hey, Apollo,” she said, holding out a present done up in shiny red wrapping, “got you a gift!”

“Athena! Mr. Wright said you were here, but I thought-,” he shook his head. “…Thank you. Merry Christmas.”

Just like that, everything felt so normal again, among everyone.

It was a crazy thought, but

…Maybe, somehow, everything had all worked out in the end. There was something about Athena’s demeanour that put him at ease, allowing him to trust that all was well… it allowed him to trust in justice.

Maybe, he didn’t quite have the full picture. That was alright with him; he didn’t need to pry any further.

In this case, just the idea of it was enough.

#Phantoms and Mirages #Ace Attorney #Dual Destinies #Phoenix Wright #Phantoms & Mirages

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teenytinystorage · 4 years

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Coinscore Arcade And Laser Tag

Summary: “The Sides all run an arcade together, each using their talents to keep it up”

Word Count: 3,872

Warnings: One very very brief mention of blood, knives, and injury, but no one gets hurt whatsoever

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Platonic/romantic prinxiety, logicality, dukeceit, & basically all the sides are besties

Notes: This fic is based on this amazing prompt I found from @sanderssides-prompts! Kudos to the anon who submitted it!!

Enjoy! :)

—

Coinscore Arcade And Laser Tag was the best arcade Gainesville, Florida could offer. And its owners Logan Middleton, Patton Heath, Roman and Remus Weston, Virgil Holmes, and Dee Webber couldn’t help but agree.

Often shortened to simply “Coinscore” for the convenience of begging kids and tired-out parents, the place had it all. Long windows in the front of the building beamed glimmering moonlight into the neon, darkly colored interior filled with music-pumping, color-flashing, ticket-spitting arcade machines.

In the front left of the building sat the prize table run by Logan and Patton, occasionally by Dee as well, with a wall hanging up packaged neon signs, inflatable aliens, plastic swords, and labels with way overpriced ticket amounts. It, of course, also had a glass shelf-table combo filled with erasers, alien-finger-toys, and parachute army men.

Right then, a couple of kids, maybe 7 or 8 or so, stood at the table, standing on their tippy-toes to set their tickets down and see how many they won.

Logan, with his tree-like lankiness, crumpled up as he crouched to grab the scale from under the table and pulled out a comically sized calculator that would only be practical in an impractical place like Coinscore.

He set the tickets into a bucket, placed it upon the scale, and quickly started to type some numbers into the calculator, all the while the kids bounced up and down and were deciding which color of alien they wanted.

Logan then looked up (or, well, down in his case) from his calculator and at the awaiting children. “Your total comes to 991 tickets.”

The kids then deflated at the admission, looking at the giant alien hung up on the wall that stared at them in otherworldly longing with its 1,000 ticket label.

One little boy ran over to his mom sitting in a chair talking with other moms and sniffly told her the tragedy. She stood, grabbing her purse, and walked over to the table.

Logan tensed. It always got serious when the mom came over.

It was at that moment Patton Heath himself walked out from the supply closet carrying two cardboard boxes stacked atop each other, his shimmering brown skin glinting in the same shade as the boxes.

“Hey Lo, my bestest friend, the platonic love of my life,” Patton smiled wide.

“Hi, Patton. I’m stuck in quite the predicament right now,” Logan answered, nodding over to the sad children and the confused but somewhat uptight mother standing on the other side of the shelf.

“Ohhhh. Not enough tickets?” Patton whispered, setting down the boxes he carried and trodding over.

Logan nodded.

Patton stood at the table and looked down at the kids. “What prize did you guys want?”

The kids sadly pointed to the giant aliens mounted on the wall in all of their extraterrestrial and airy glory.

He looked at the ticket label then back to Logan, whispering, “How much are they off?”

“One-thousand minus nine-ninety-one is nine, so they’re nine off.”

Patton turned to Logan and gave a small pout, not unlike the children’s pouts ahead of him. “It’s nine tickets off, Lo. Can’t we just give it to them?”

Logan thought for a moment, pressing his cold, long fingers onto his chin.

Patton leaned over and whispered, “Hey, hey, I get it. But I read your salary spreadsheet for the week and I can tell we’ll be fine giving away a prize for only nine tickets less. And they might tell their friends about their prize and how they got it at Coinscore and we might make even more than a breakeven amount!” Patton beamed pridefully.

Logan had a surprised look on his face. “I suppose you’re right.”

Patton turned back to the kids. “Would you guys like the red, green, or purple alien?”

“Purple!” the kids cheered, smiles coming back to their faces.

Patton unhooked a purple alien toy from the wall, detached its ticket label, and handed it to the starry-eyed kids. “Here you go! Don’t worry about the nine tickets, this little buddy’s all yours.”

The kids squealed in excitement and the mom grinned in relief. She clutched her handbag and smiled at Logan and Patton. “Thank you very much. Christian, Daria, Jacob, what do you say to the nice men?”

“Thank you!” the three children echoed as they walked with the mom out the door, smiling and squealing about their alien friend who was just as big as them.

“I didn’t know you read my salary reports, Patton,” Logan turned to start unpacking the boxes.

“I like to be a little smart sometimes,” Patton smiled, grabbing Logan’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “Like a certain smartie pants I know.”

Logan’s pale face bloomed with rose-pink tones, and he shook his head, a small smile across his lips.

As they got to work unpacking boxes, inside the arcade was where the real fun and drama happened.

Inside, there were all kinds of games monitored by Roman and occasionally Virgil: whack-a-mole, helicopter shooting games where players step inside a shiny plastic interior to play, ball toss, spinning wheels, hard-hitting hammer-swinging games, even an electronic Fruit Ninja game, and the classic skeeball.

And at one of the three skeeball stations stood an angered, growling 9-year-old, who chucked another ball forward into the glass cage and landed into the zero zone again.

She let out an aggravated yell before tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders, crossing her arms.

Roman, who stood at a pirate-themed wheel game and was encoring two little boys who won eight-hundred tickets, saw this outburst and, like the modern knight he was, pranced over to the distressed darling.

“Hello! You’re playing skeeball?” Roman greeted, crouching down to the girl’s height.

“Yeh, but I suck at it,” she pouted, “Hmph.”

“Here, do you want me to show you my trick on how to win? I like skeeball too,” Roman offered, and the girl reluctantly handed her one of her last two neon orange skeeballs.

Roman turned to face the glass chamber of point holes. “What I always do is focus on the wrist.” Roman bent his right hand backward, aiming it towards the skeeball ramp as he turned his eyes back to the pouting girl. “I like to think of my hand like a broken excavator, those construction cars with the big arm in front that pick up big lumps of dirt. My hand goes up super fast and flings the ball forward, just like a broken excavator would fling dirt up in the air and make dirt go everywhere!”

The girl, despite just having been mad, perked up a bit as she laughed and stepped back to watch Roman play.

Roman stood up to full height, a modest 5’5”, and stepped his left leg back and his right leg forward as he turned to face the ramp.

As he described, his hand became a broken excavator as he shot his wrist up, causing the ball to barrel forward on the ramp and land right into the sweet 1,000 point spot.

The girl smiled widely and clapped for Roman, giggling.

Roman turned and bowed sillily. “Thank you, thank you. I’m honored. Now you try,” Roman took the other skeeball from the game’s compartment and handed it to her. “Remember, broken excavator.”

The girl nodded, determined, and positioned herself like Roman had earlier with her left leg forward and right leg back (since she was left-handed), and bent her wrist back before flinging it forward and tossing the ball up the ramp and into the cool 500-point spot.

Roman smiled, clapping his hands excitedly. “What an excellent toss! Ten out of ten.”

“Thank you,” the girl smiled shyly, twirling her pink tutu around her finger. She held out her tiny hand. “I’m Melanie.”

“Nice to meet you, Melanie,” Roman grinned, giving her hand a quick shake. “I’m Roman.”

“Cool name,” Melanie added.

“Thank you!” Roman beamed, before putting on a serious face. “Alright, play another round and show me what you’ve got!”

Melanie nodded, grinning and letting two tokens clink-clink-clink down into the machine as five more skeeballs plummeted into the machine compartment.

Now, although the games and prizes were cool on their own, the hands-down coolest part about Coinscore was that the back end of the arcade was devoted entirely to a laser tag arena.

Behind the two big flashy entrance doors, the debriefing room and the vesting room, the arena was themed like an abandoned, haunted town, thanks to Remus’s suggestion.

Ripped up buildings and large open windows, bus stops, holographs of floating books and chairs projected onto the walls, long ramps up to different structures, a large platform bridge in the middle of it all, and plenty of running space for excited kids filled the massive arena space.

Dee, Remus, and Virgil ran the laser tag rodeo and also did the cleaning of the arena when arcade days were slow.

Dee’s job was to read out the rules to the ecstatic players in the empty, glowing blue debriefing room and had the kids repeat and promise not to run or hurt anyone or jump or rules like that that basically fell under anything that could cause a lawsuit. (And Dee was just finishing up law school; he knew how much lawsuits sucked.)

Meanwhile, Remus and Virgil were the “laser masters” as the kids were told to call them 3 times in a row when something went wrong or their laser gun stopped working or they got lost or anything like that.

But laser-master-worthy incidents were rare, so Remus just had to stand guard during games and hang out with Dee while Virgil got plenty of time off to help out with any extra work going on, like birthday parties or, in some cases such as this one, helping to convince a fearful kid to play laser tag.

A lonely little boy, probably 9 or so, stood outside the laser tag doors, staring at the cracked wallpaper and the spooky neon green lighting, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.

Virgil noticed this boy as he stood holding open the arena entrance and as the other boys he was with walked inside after trying tirelessly to convince him.

Virgil called out to the boy, “Are you coming in? I’m ‘bout to shut the doors.”

“I… I want to,” the boy said, still staring at the wall ahead of him. “But I’m scared.”

Virgil took in a breath. “C’mere, let me tell you something.”

The boy walked over to Virgil and stood, twiddling his fingers. Virgil crouched down on one knee.

“I know it looks scary from the outside, and you wouldn’t be wrong about that,” Virgil started, looking at the boy’s frightened face. “But believe me, it’s not scary on the inside. I promise. All it is is some broken buildings and bus stops. There’s no scary robots or scary ghosts or jumpscares. There’s no scary music or blood or knives or anything like that.”

“You’re sure?” the boy croaked out.

“One-hundred percent,” Virgil nodded as the multiple chains around his neck clinked against each other. “But if you don’t want to play this round, which is totally fine, you can watch up from the top and make sure it’s all good yourself. This round’ll be done in fifteen minutes and then the next one is the last round for tonight. You can play the last round if you deem the arena good for you.”

“I think I’ll do that,” the boy nodded quickly.

“Alright. You go up and check for me, and make sure none of your friends do anything silly, okay?”

The boy chuckled. “I’ll try, but they’re very silly.”

“I’d bet,” Virgil grinned, standing back up.

“Thank you sir,” the boy smiled.

“No prob,” Virgil waved, shutting the door behind him but before that seeing the boy speedily running up the ramp to the spectator station.

Dee and Remus were leading the kids into the dark vesting room as Virgil approached in his black work apron over his P!ATD hoodie and black jeans, making him entirely camouflaged in the blacklight except for his neon purple hair that practically made him a beacon of purple light.

“Where were you?” Remus asked, retying the ponytail that held back his lion’s mane of hair.

“Helping a kid out,” Virgil answered back.

“Well, good thing you’re here now,” Dee commented, “I think these kids are especially insolent this time, so we might need another ‘laser master’ for the tots that didn’t hear the rule about having to hold onto the blaster to shoot.”

“You got it, Jekyll,” Virgil pointed a finger gun at Dee before walking into the vesting room, Jekyll being a nickname solicited by Dee’s vertigo that split his face into halves like the halved aspects of Jekyll and Hyde, and also by Dee’s absolute dorkery in all that was musical theater.

As the round was about to start and as Dee made the kids once again promise not to do anything that would hurt themselves, Remus and Virgil congregated into the half-emptied vesting room with glowing vest-holding-pillars and a few leftover vests with blasters attached.

Dee then assigned the colors and heard the groans of annoyed kids who didn’t get computer-assigned on the same teams as their friends.

The robotic voice announced above that the round was starting in ten seconds, and as the kids scrambled to find their spots, Dee turned back around to Remus and Virgil.

“I swear I’m up to here with these foolish wildebeests,” Dee sighed. “Our last few rounds were good but I think they’re just starting to get rambunctious and just want to see me mad.”

“I’m not blaming them,” Remus shrugged, leaning back against the wall with his wide pale shoulders and torso. “You’re pretty sexy when you’re mad.”

“Ugh,” Virgil shook his head, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets and wishing he could put on his headphones during work. “Leave me out of the friend-flirting, please.”

“No can do, dreamy darkstorm of doom!” Remus beamed, wrapping his arms around Virgil.

Virgil shook his head, grinning only because of the beaming Remus and the chuckling Dee beside him.

“Alright alright, let’s actually watch this match now and make sure no one gets hurt please?” Dee pulled up the arena cameras on the scoring screen in the corner of the room. Remus and Virgil crowded around him.

And from the spectator camera, Virgil could see the little boy he talked to earlier watching the round and his friends that waved and cheered to him as they played.

“Did you see what I did there, Sal?!” one boy exclaimed. “I got that kid and he didn’t even see it coming!”

Sal smiled at the comment, only then to start laughing once the boy’s vest beeped, showing that he got shot as he was talking.

“Who did that?! Michael, if that was you I’m gonna destroy you!” he fumed as he ran off. “Bye Sal!”

“Sal, huh?” Dee added. “Seems like a nice kid. Good job helping him, Vir.”

“I relate to him, y’know? Might as well try and help a little me or whatever.”

“Virrrrgilllllll has light in his soullllll!” Remus teased, poking Virgil’s cheek repeatedly. “I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

“Oh, get over it,” Virgil smirked as he playfully bopped Remus’s arm.

And once the round had come to an end (only needing assistance from Remus once because a kid did indeed forget the “hold onto the blaster to shoot” rule), Virgil saw Sal hurry out of the spectator floor to join his friends outside the door.

The kids returned their vests and quickly ran out the doors to see the TV-displayed leader-board. They crowded around Sal and told quickly and loudly of their adventures, to which Sal smiled and laughed.

And it was quite a delight for Dee, Virgil, and Remus, who were all standing by the door that Virgil held open once again for the last time that night, to see that Sal followed his friends in and that Sal smiled at Virgil with a big beaming grin.

Virgil shut the door behind them as the last round started and finished and as the kids flooded out from the doors to their parents so they could leave the arcade, smiling and laughing all the way. Virgil waved goodbye to Sal, who graciously thanked him again for the help before walking out with the other kids and their parents.

Remus locked arms with Virgil and Dee as the three headed out of the arena and over to the prize table, where Logan and Patton waved goodbye to a few more kids who stayed late to play more games and where Roman leaned against the snack bar shelf and gave some high-fives to kids as they walked out.

“Bye Melanie! You’re a skeeball champion,” Roman cheered as a little brown-haired girl and her father walked out of the doors, both waving goodbye to Roman.

Remus approached Roman, letting go of Dee and Virgil’s arms, and chuckled, readjusting his ponytail for approximately the twentieth time that day. “Made another new friend, huh?”

“I did,” Roman turned to Remus and grinned. “One more than you’ve ever made, intro-dirt.”

“Oooh! Right where it hurts,” Remus cried, putting his hand over his heart before hooking Roman into his arm and ruffling up Roman’s hair.

Patton turned from the prize shelf and walked over. “Melanie, was it? Such a cute-looking kid.”

“Oh, but you won’t believe this! Virgil made a friend today, too,” Remus beamed, letting go of Roman and turning to Virgil.

“Really? I’m shocked that your void of a heart had enough room for that,” Roman teased, before quickly adding, “Just kidding. Who was it?”

“Name was Sal,” Virgil commented, his left contact-purple eye and his right green eye darting down to his shoes. “Nice kid. About eight years old?” he glanced off to the side.

“Awww!” Patton squealed.

“Sal was afraid of the laser tag arena, but Vir convinced him it wasn’t so bad and Sal went in for the last round with all his friends,” Dee added, stuffing his hands into his black apron’s pockets after he swiped away a loose strand of hair that fell out of his yellow beanie littered with Broadway buttons.

“How charismatic of you!” Roman smiled, “What a kind and fair lad,” he trilled, stepping down onto his knee and grabbing onto Virgil’s hand for a tiny hand-kiss.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “How about you save the prince kiss until after you’ve had a breath mint?”

Roman scoffed, standing back up and dusting off the bottom of his apron while Remus and Dee both simultaneously ooooh’d at the roast.

Just then the joking atmosphere was quelled as Logan’s clacking strides from his derbies coming towards them filled the air. “Okay jokers, we’ve got a bit more work to do before we can officially wrap up for the night. There’s some boxes to be carried and a bit of cleaning to do.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Right. Which one of you is strongest, again?” he asked, directed to the two Westons, who simultaneously pointed to themselves respectively.

“Go see,” he said. “There’s four boxes behind the table.”

Roman and Remus shoved past each other to get over to the boxes, and soon enough they were both fighting to grab more boxes than the other.

Logan opened the prize booth’s gate and walked out to Dee and Virgil with Patton following behind him.

“Smart, L. Using their competitiveness to get more work done,” Virgil commented.

“Oh, well, I try,” Logan replied.

“Nothing is stronger than a sibling’s need to outdo their brothers and sisters,” Dee recited poetically, holding a nonexistent skull up in his hand like he was the new Shakespeare.

Patton laughed and clapped, and both Logan and Virgil stifled a chuckle.

“Hey, Dee, speaking of that,” Virgil added with Dee turning towards him.

“I saw you reading out rules today, and your theatrics are pretty cool,” Virgil complimented, lightly shoving Dee with his elbow. “I swear, the kids always listen to you say all the rules when you do your voices and acting. They just start snoring whenever Ree and I try.”

Dee grinned smugly, shoving Virgil back. “Gee-muh-netti. I’m flattered,” he blushed as he tipped an imaginary hat from his head.

“Hey nerd, where do you want the boxes?!” Roman yelled from in front of the storage closet, carrying all four boxes with Remus swiping at them to grab them back.

“Back of the storage closet!” Logan yelled back. “And don’t drop them, please!”

Remus opened the door for Roman politely before slamming it shut behind both of them and probably trying to grab the boxes back again.

Logan sighed, holding the bridge of his nose in his fingers. “That’s all the lifting work. Everyone else, cleaning duty. We had a crowded day today.”

And so the four got to work wiping down and unplugging all of the machines, and once all the work was done all six owners met back up at the front of the arcade.

“I carried more boxes than Romie!” Remus cheered, smiling and puffing out his chest.

Roman pushed him to the side. “You liar! I carried all four at once.”

Patton stood between them and broke up the fight. “Guys, guys, you’re both strong, okay?”

Roman and Remus both stared at each other angrily for a moment before both of them absolutely melted at the compliment.

“Thank you so much!” “You really think that? You’re too sweet!”

“Alright, listen up everyone,” Logan started. “I’ve calculated our weekly earnings up, and it seems that we have enough to do a sort of ‘splurge’ for our late-dinner-early-breakfast tonight.”

“I call IHOP!” Patton beamed. “Pancakes, anyone?”

“Not a bad idea,” Virgil nodded, slipping out of his apron and tossing it onto the coathanger to the side of the entrance doors.

The other four unanimously agreed, and Logan nodded. “IHOP it is,” he announced, taking his car keys out of his back pocket and spinning them around his fingers. He opened the door for the other five who graciously thanked the ever-loving heck out of him.

As the six headed out, Roman’s arm over Virgil’s shoulder, Dee and Remus’s arms locked together, and Logan and Patton’s hands interlaced after Logan shut off the light switch, Remus interjected, “I have another idea for the arena, by the way! What if we add a totally wrecked bus to the middle of the space, like halfway stuck in the ground and open windows and a raised ramp so it’d be a cool hiding spot?”

“Not a bad idea,” Logan added. “We might have enough in the budget for something like that.”

“Or what about this! Pop-up ghost targets that appear at random times for extra points!”

“Cool.” “Good idea!” “Not too bad bro, coming from that one braincell up in your head.” “Sounds good.” “That could work,” the others agreed.

The six friends loaded up into Logan’s RV and drove off to dinner and a long night of rest after the busy day.

Coinscore really was the best arcade Gainesville, Florida could’ve ever asked for.

—

30 notes · View notes

onyour-right · 4 years

Text

Dickkory - A hidden scene fic

Okay, so this has been in my mind since episode 7 aired. Dick and Kory finally having that much needed chat. (Which isn’t to say everything is automatically resolved, BUT it’s a good stepping stone towards where they need to be at).

As always, please like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed. Reading reviews honestly motivates me to write more and it’s good to read constructive feedback. Any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,195

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Later that evening when everyone retreats back to their rooms, Dick finds himself going back up to the roof, sitting down on the ledge that Jason was contemplating taking his own life from just a few hours ago. The memory makes him frown, makes an icy cold feeling of dread wash over him as he tries to imagine what would have happened if he’d been a minute too late, or two, or five. He never thought that things with Jason would ever, could ever get to the point it had; sure, he knows that the kid is troubled, that he – like everyone else – has his own demons to battle with, but he hadn’t just been troubled up on that ledge he had been completely and utterly broken, hopeless.

It was deeply unsettling how much Jason had reminded Dick of himself in that moment, of how it’s been for him ever since Deathstroke made his reappearance and forced him to relive his past failures. Trapped between the sins of the past and the sins of the present, one foot hanging precariously off the edge and one foot firm on solid ground. Suicide by what? Some misguided notion of martyrdom. As if it would somehow make up for all his wrongdoings, his regret, if he lost his life by stopping Slade once and for all.

He can never make it right though, not really. His bad choices are stuck to him, stuck close as a shadow to a body. They’re in every breath that he breathes and every decision that he makes, they’re in every step that he takes and the way he carries himself. Dick knows this, has accepted it, and yet…

Earlier on it had felt somewhat liberating, confessing his deepest shame to Jason. Like a weight – albeit small – had been lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe a little easier, move a little freer. Even when the boy had stared at him wide-eyed, an expression on his face that Dick hadn’t known how to read, and had not been fully sure what to say so had remained silent, it still felt… good.

Now he just has to tell the others. It’s not going to go well, he’s accepted that, there’ll probably be raised voices, angry and disappointed words hissed at him, maybe some relationships being done with for good. But he just hopes that she won’t, that Kory won’t.

Just then the sound of footsteps approaching from behind pull Dick out of his thoughts, and he knows instantly who it is by the enticingly familiar scent that invades his senses: ambery warm and spicy. He can feel it in the way the tenseness of his muscles instinctively loosen up, a reaction to her physical presence that he’s powerless to control. It’s as if he’s managed to conjure her up just by thinking of her. Not a terrible power to have, he thinks.

Kory reaches him and, much to his surprise and amusement, is carrying two half-filled glasses of what looks to be tequila in her hands. His mind drifts back to another time – her lips on his, their bodies flush against each other, his body aching with want of her - and he tries to school his face into a neutral expression.

Her brown eyes study him intently as she reaches one to him in offering, her lips quirking up into a slight but genuine smile as she asks softly, “You want some company?”

“I’d never refuse yours,” he replies, meeting her gaze and holding it for a minute longer after he takes the glass from her grip.

Kory lets out an amused, maybe also pleased, chuckle and rests a gentle hand on his shoulder as she swings a leg over the ledge to sit down next to him. The simple action makes Dick’s lips twitch into a faint smile, makes him a little warmer even though the night air is cold. He knows that Kory has near perfect balance, she could have easily sat without having to touch him, so the fact that she did isn’t lost to him. It means that even though things between them aren’t where they should be, where he wants them to be and hopes she does too, at the very least she still seeks out his touch.

Comfortable silence falls over the two of them as they take in the nightly sights ahead, occasionally knocking back some of the alcoholic liquid then wincing at the bitter sharpness. It’s one reason why Dick relishes being in Kory’s presence so much; she appreciates the quiet moments without feeling pressure to break it unnecessarily, she doesn’t push him to talk until he’s ready to.

He thinks he’s ready.

“I should have called you,” he admits, voice soft and eyes focused on a building in-front of him, his thumb lightly tapping against his glass.

Kory turns to him, a single brow arched as she regards him patiently, allowing him the space to get what he needs to say off his chest.

“I wanted to, but I thought you needed space to figure things out. I didn’t want to -” he pauses, a sigh falling from his mouth as he tries to find the right words that will make her understand, “I didn’t want to be selfish with you.”

Her following silence makes something ugly twist in Dick’s stomach, it makes him look away from the building and into the brown pools of her eyes to see if he can see what she’s feeling. After a moment of staring at each other, Kory speaks.

“Selfish is the last thing I’d call you, Dick Grayson. I mean I get it, but it would have been nice.”

She doesn’t sound angry or even judgemental, she never does, but there’s an element to her tone that makes him feel out of place. He doesn’t know what it is or how to really explain it, all he knows is that it’s a feeling that he doesn’t like. Dick opens his mouth to say something, an apology would be a good start, but Kory must realise because she swiftly cuts him off before the words can leave his mouth.

“I could have called too, so I guess we both thought we were doing what was best for each other.”

Dick hums in agreement, but now he’s just a little bit curious. “Why didn’t you call?”

Kory looks at him for a long moment, like she’s weighing up whether what she’s about to say will be taken the wrong way or not. “I knew you’d be busy with the kids and that you probably wouldn’t have any time for me, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

He narrows his eyes, a frown starting on his face again; he can feel himself growing defensive even though at the back of his mind he knows that her reasoning for not calling hadn’t been wrong. “You wouldn’t have. I could have, I would have tried to -” he starts but soon trails off, unsure of what it is he’s trying to say in the first place.

“I didn’t want you to have to try to do anything, Dick.”

He understands, he really does. One bittersweet thing about Kory, he’s beginning to find, is that her words are always clear in their honesty, never half-truths or attempts to sugar coat anything because it’s what she thinks you might want to hear. On one hand it means there’s no room for misunderstanding, or at the very least if there is a misunderstanding it’s by choice; it also means, however, that the unintentionality of her words stinging, often times makes the sting worse.

This time the silence that settles over them is slightly less comfortable, it’s tense with everything that’s being spoken without being vocalised. Thankfully after a while Kory breaks it, and although he’s grateful he finds himself wary about the topic they’re on the brinks of discussing.

“So Deathstroke really has all of you rattled, huh.”

An understatement, he thinks with a bitter laugh. He downs the rest of the alcohol in his glass, liquid courage and all that, before placing it to the side of him. He runs his fingers nervously through his hair, sneaking a quick glance at Kory who’s watching him ever patiently. Exhaling a shaky breath, he finally opens his mouth and tells her the truth.

How Deathstroke had killed Garth on his birthday and left the team feeling vengeful and devastated, how in response Dick had tracked down his son and gotten close to him, had made him believe that they were genuinely friends only to lead him right into the palms of his father – like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. He tells her how Jericho had taken the killing blow that was aimed for him, how the others had left him after they found out he’d died, how it had broken him more than he thought it would, and how it was because of that that he was reluctant to reveal what had happened out of fear everyone would leave again.

After Dick is done he can’t quite find it in himself to meet her gaze, which he’s sure is going to be filled with disgust, and so he looks away. His body tensing up in preparation for whatever might come next.

When nothing comes next, or at least not immediately, he allows himself to turn back to her. Kory doesn’t say anything for a good while after he finishes, but her facial expression tells him enough about her reaction to what he’s just said; the sadness flashing transparently in her eyes, the distressed furrowing of her brows, her mouth that’s down-turned in a slight frown. She’s looking at him with something akin to understanding, like everyone’s behaviour suddenly makes sense to her now: the weird tension between him and the others, why he was so quick to trade himself for Jason, why he didn’t ask her for help when he knew she would have it given freely. It’s a terrifying rush being seen, being understood, it’s certainly not a feeling that Dick is used to.

Her hand suddenly reaches up and cups the side of his face, her thumb gently wiping away the tears that he hadn’t even realised had fallen. Dick thinks he should probably feel embarrassed, being so vulnerable like this, but he can’t quite muster up the energy to care.

“His death wasn’t your fault,” she murmurs, gentle but firm, unwavering in her faith of him.

He shakes his head vehemently, the tears flowing with more ease now. It’s as if now that he’s started he can’t seem to stop. Maybe he doesn’t even want to. “I killed him, Kory,” he says, his voice so painfully close to breaking off.

“Listen to me, Dick Grayson,” and she puts her unfinished drink to one side, freeing her other hand to cup the other side of Dick’s face. “Did you use Jericho? Yes. Was it wrong? Of course. But did you kill him, were you responsible for his death? No. It’s fucked up how it all went down, it’s really fucked up. But if Dawn, Hank and Donna somehow made you feel like it was all your fault, like they didn’t play a role in it, if they can look down on you for it then y’know what, fuck them and you’re better off without them.”

Dick stares at her with wide eyes, shocked at the venom laced in her tone. He can’t remember a time when he’s heard such bitterness come from her; he’s not going to waste time lying by saying that it isn’t touching, that hearing Kory defending him isn’t everything to him, but he can’t help but doubt whether he’s deserving of her protectiveness.

“Kory,” he tries, but the argument dies on his tongue at the look she sends him.

“Dick, you cared for that boy. You feel guilty because you think that if you hadn’t brought him in then Slade wouldn’t have found him, that he wouldn’t have died. But there’s no use blaming yourself for what you didn’t do, or thinking about what ifs; it happened, it was horrible, but you can’t let it have so much power over you, you have to find a way to move on.”

She’s right, he knows she is, and if he looks deep inside himself he’ll find that he’s always known it. But he’s spent so long carrying this baggage that to suddenly let go of it terrifies him, it overwhelms him because he doesn’t know where the fuck to even begin unloading at, all he knows right now is that he’s exhausted from all this.

“Kory,” he whispers reverently this time, his eyes searching for an answer that he finds in her gaze. He inches forward and rests his forehead gently against hers, both their eyes falling shut as they relish in this unexplored area of intimacy between them, their mouths inches apart and breaths intermingling in an even and soothing rhythm.

Dick doesn’t know where to start, but if he’s learnt anything at all it’s that the only way out is through, and so he’ll endure.

// end

#titans live action #dick grayson #kory anders #dickkory #G writes #a dickkory fic

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scrapheapchallenge · 4 years

Note

1, 2, 4 and 8 if you are up for it please!

Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I have a LOT of projects on the go at the moment - several WIPs, some multi chapter ones that have been going for a while, but I won’t start to upload them until they’re finished. I also have a couple finished and in the ready to upload folder. Some slightly delayed as I commissioned art for them from professional artists and am just waiting in a queue for it, so they are queued as well. Also since the end of July I’ve been learning to draw so I can illustrate my own fics as well, and that’s been taking me away from writing somewhat, which I feel bad about. It was fun though because one of the fics in the upload queue I was able to go back to and create illustrations for it, or add in some of the drawings I’d done anyway which fit some of the text by coincidence. I’m loving the support from the Good Omens community around my learning to draw - the art community in particular is so generous about sharing tips and tricks, giving constructive criticism and helping me improve, or fix drawings that are going wrong.

Back to writing, I’ve written for a couple of zines, some published and finished, some in progress, and I adore the discord community around the zines, as it’s all so supportive and you get great feedback which improves the writing. ---------------------

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

There’s a few, some in the WIP folder that are just ideas so far, like Crowley having secretly been the Stig on Top Gear for a while. I also drew some sexy looking Crowleys recently who are begging for a fic to go with them, and this morning I thought up a short NSFW fic idea for the Crowley I drew last night. It’ll be prior to the “fraternising?” incident and explain further why Crowley was so incredibly hurt by Aizraphale’s choice of words.

--------------------------

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like) This is REALLY difficult, there’s been so many that I love, and it’s hard to pick! Possibly “Screw you, and the cloud you rode in on.” from “Incident report.” But also: “PERISCOPE UP!” and “Hull breach!” from “All hands on deck (dick?)” - which broke a lot of readers. But for pure angst, the most heart rending thing I’ve written recently was when Crowley was broken by Aziraphale’s words in “Constraint” (Aziraphale is under a lust curse, and Crowley refuses to give him what he wants.) “SHUT UP!” Screamed Crowley, tears overflowing down his face again. “Stop fucking using him like this, just fucking shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”

------------------------

8.Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Pretty much - partly because I write what I like to read. I love silly comedy, and I love smut - I write both. Although I do enjoy writing angst on my own terms, I’m not so big on reading it (although “Closed set” might be an exception - I adore that one for smut AND angst). I like shorter works, as I simply don’t have the time to wade through enormous multi-chapter works, which makes me sad.

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five-wow · 4 years

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Hi, I'm a fellow writer in the fandom and I admire your work. I wanted to ask, as a popular writer, do you get fixated sometimes on the number of kudos/comments/hits etc that your new work gets, and does this impact your motivation/inspiration? I think comparison is the thief of joy, and I really want to get over this feeling when I post my own work, so was wondering if even popular and regular writers such as yourself feel like this to, and if , what's your secret? Thanks!

Hi! 1) You are so sweet, ahh, and 2) YES, I DO. Gosh, yes, I absolutely do get insecure about those kinds of things, and I think that anyone who says they don't ever feel that way is either lying (to themselves, possibly) or maybe just pure magic, like some cross between a writer and a unicorn.

I love ao3 and I love all of its metrics and I love numbers and statistics, but there’s definitely that shadow side where having all of that easily available makes it deceptively easy to compare your own work to other people’s. I do it all the time! It honestly makes it a little hard for me at times to read h50 fic and fully enjoy it, because I keep... looking at it and wondering how my own stacks up against it, unwillingly. That's not a relaxing experience, and sometimes not even a very fun one. (Another part of it is that I just write SO MUCH for h50 and there is SO MUCH I still want to write, and I don’t want to risk reading something that’s very close to an idea I had and then never being quite sure if what I write after that was influenced by the other person’s work or if it’s really still my idea, because I have this (pretty irrational) fear of accidentally stealing someone else’s work even though one of the really great things about fandom is that it’s a very collaborative process as a whole and being inspired by other people’s stuff is usually totally okay, buuuut that’s a different rambly story.)

And I definitely do also get... some cringey feelings, hardcore, around fics I posted that don't do very well numbers-wise. Sometimes it's expected - fic that doesn't follow traditional formats or doesn't feature Steve/Danny, for example, is always something where I KNOW it won't get as much attention because I know how fandom works and that lessens the sting because it doesn't HAVE to hold up to those other fics that perform way better, because I already know it's not really comparable. The truth is, of course, that most fic is not really comparable to other fic, but it’s easy to fall into that trap anyway. If I post something that seems like my average kind of work and it gets less kudos or comments than usual, I do start to doubt the fic and second-guess myself - is something about this weird? Is it too [insert quality x]? Is it bad? Did I unknowingly do something terrible and people are now avoiding me? The answer to all of those is probably no, and going through it a bunch of times has definitely helped, because what usually happens is that I end up somewhat avoiding the fic in question because it makes me a little ashamed and awkward to think about it (a relative failure! oh no! I'm human!) and then, eventually, I return and reread the fic. By that point I have enough distance from it in time that I can look at it a lot more objectively, and it's way easier to see what works and what does not than when I posted it and I had just read it a dozen times in twenty-four hours and the words were burned into my brain. And upon that reread, inevitably, I realize that, holy shit, it was NOT AS BAD as I had made it out to be in my mind! It’s actually kind of fun! Imagine the ego boost of realizing your most cringy recent work is actually pretty okay, haha, and it's silly, but it's a revelation every time. The quality of a fic is not dictated by how many people read it or comment on it or like it, and intellectually I absolutely know that, but it’s hard to remember when it’s about yourself and you’re still in that emotionally vulnerable place of having just shared your work with the world and it feels like the world is not as into it as you thought (or hoped) it’d be. It’s honestly very, very reassuring to have those experiences to fall back on, but sadly the only way I know to get there is to just tough it out and feel super awkward for a while.

When I’m writing, on the other hand, I usually don’t really think about what other people might think of it. I have the advantage that (pretty much) all of my work consists of fairly short stand alone stories, which means I don’t have to struggle with keeping my motivation up for a second chapter of something but I get to start fresh every time, and that’s nice, because I can just lose myself in the joy of throwing words around and making characters do things that make me giggle. That’s not to say I never think of the outside world while writing - I realized, pretty recently, that I occasionally end up constructing paragraphs or pieces of dialogue a certain way mostly so it will make for a good excerpt to put in the eventual fic description, which might give me a sense of accomplishment because it’s nice when things work out and look good, but in all fairness it’s probably far more motivated by attempts to package the finished work attractively so other people will want to click on it than by anything else. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. I don’t think so - I don’t feel like it lessens my work and it doesn’t interrupt my enjoyment of it in the moment, which are the key elements for me - but other people might disagree.

But the heart of thing is, just, there are SO MANY factors that influence a fic’s numbers, and not all of them are visible (I’d argue most of them aren’t, in fact), and it always helps me to keep that in mind. It puts things in perspective somewhat and softens the harshness of a black and white kudo count judgment. Numbers can depend on when you post a fic (what day of the week, time of the year, time relative to big fandom moments, whether you’re in the middle of a global pandemic or not), how you pick your title, what you put in the description, how you use the tags, what genres or tropes are popular in your specific fandom, the genre of your fic in general (pwp as a rule tends to get lots of hits and few kudos or comments, for example, making it totally unfair to compare it to G-reated fluff fic with super different ratios), how much you’ve posted before (because if someone likes one of your works, they’re often likely to check if you have more in the same fandom), how many fics other people post around the same time (because yours might be gone from the first page of most recently updated works in a fandom or ship tag very quickly if others push it out), how big your fandom is(!!!) (over two thirds of my works on ao3 are for h50, but h50 only makes it into the top 10 of my most kudo’d works by the skin of its teeth) and definitely also what your fandom’s culture is like (compared to a lot of other fandoms, h50 fans are a-ma-zing when it comes to leaving comments, my gosh, and as a writer I adore all of you), how old your ao3 account is (the longer you’ve been around, the more likely a higher number of people is subscribed to you as an author or has read your previous work or has encountered your name, etc), how long your fic is (under a thousand words in my experience generally does less well than 1-5k, but longer fics might end up with lots of chapters which switches things up because people come back to it when there’s an update, and even if a long work is all in one chapter it will probably stand out for the wordcount and might attract attention that way, etc), whether or not your fic is part of a series (in my experience it will probably get more hits because it’s a chain of fics that leads you to the next one, but the kudos might not go up at the same rate because people might forget a kudo or reread previous works when a new one is added), whether you make a habit of commenting on other people’s fic (I’ve had comments saying MY comment on their work led them to my fic!), if you have social media like Tumblr or Twitter where you can promote your work (it’s advertising, basically), and any of a bunch of random little other factors. Sometimes, I see a sudden little cluster of kudos on an old fic in the daily ao3 kudos email, and I assume someone somewhere maybe recced that fic, but it usually remains a total mystery who or where or even if it happened at all and wasn’t just a weird coincidence to begin with. Sometimes the thing a fic’s popularity depends on is really just whether it clicks with people at that point in time, whatever that means, which is an even more impossible thing to grasp or predict than anything else.

Or you can look at things from a totally different angle and not try to make yourself care less about numbers, but just accept that you do because you’re human and we all crave validation, and instead try to roll with that. A brain hack: when I do start getting down about numbers, it also helps me to focus on one work and just... try to visualise what those kudo (or hit or bookmark or comment) counts mean, if you were to translate them to the real world. While it can be super helpful to remember that there’s a LOT going on that you can’t see and that’s virtually impossible to really explain, it’s also nice to somewhat do the opposite and try to make things as concrete as possible instead. I like measuring in school classes (~25-30 heads, I’d say) and “my fic only has fifty kudos but this other person’s has ten times as many” could easily make anyone sad and demotivated, but “my fic has fifty kudos and that’s TWO WHOLE CLASSROOMS packed full of people that all read my work and liked it so much they wanted to give me a little thumbs up for it” is actually pretty cool and encouraging, I think. Or you could measure in sports teams (I don’t know sports, but soccer has 11 players on the field per team, so as soon as your fic has 33 kudos that’s three teams which means you’ve got yourself a little beginning league! how exciting!) or in DnD campaigns (variable of course, but most of mine have had around four players plus a DM, so if you have twenty kudos? that’s FOUR WHOLE DnD campaigns that enjoyed reading your fic, and it’s fully up to you how many half-orcs that includes). You could apply this method using literally any other measurement that works for you, too. If you have a hard time painting a mental image of numbers, you could even open up a Paint doc or get a piece of paper and start counting out little dots or copy-pasted images of a person, or get a big bag of physically present M&Ms and count them out, or take a good look at your dog and then go around the neighborhood and collect forty-nine more dogs and pile them all into your home and be slightly frightened by the utter delighted fluffy chaos that ensues in your living room. That’s how many people liked your fic! That’s a heck of a lot of wagging tails! Who knew a kudo could bark this loudly!

Disclaimer: maybe keep the dog thing as your very last resort, because your neighbors might not be super into their pet getting dognapped for the purpose of visualizing fanfiction stats. The point is really just to remember that there’s an actual person behind every kudo you get, no matter what the cumulative number is, and even if you have seven or five or three kudos, that’s seven or five or three very real people that hit that button. That’s pretty damn awesome. Also keep in mind how you feel if you read a fic, and take some time to realize that every single person that left you a kudo went through that same process of spending time reading words (the words you wrote!) and experiencing that story and THAT’S why they left that kudo. It’s a real person’s real investment.

This ended up very long and rambly, so tl;dr: You are in no way alone in feeling that way, it's okay and normal and so very very human to feel like that, but you still shouldn't let it get you down, because numbers fake being meaningful very well but are deep down just little squiggles on your screen and they’re more scared of you than you are of them, while at the same time there are real individuals that enjoy your work even if you usually never see them. Your fic is worth posting. That’s the one factor in all of this that’s a constant, not a variable.

(And as a very important sidenote, just be kind to yourself, always. Does it truly stress you out? Are you feeling really bad about it today? Does it make your anxiety spike? Then give yourself room to take a little step back and allow yourself some time away from it. Go watch something you enjoy, or read something nice, or do something else that makes you feel good. Fic is something that should add to your life, not subtract from it. You don’t owe anyone anything, not even yourself in this context, and I used to push myself occasionally to get something finished TODAY, and eventually I started realizing, well, why? Why not instead of reading it over again just get some sleep or watch an episode of something I want to watch, especially if I literally just finished the fic and I feel a little unsure about it and it might actually be beneficial to me and my own feelings about it if I just give it a day or even a week and let it rest and then look at it again and THEN post it, if I want to, whether that’s with some changes beforehand or not? Who set me that deadline that’s apparently looming over me? I did, and it’s fake, and it’s there for absolutely no good reason. Breathe. Put yourself first. Be really really really selfish about your own fic writing experience, even, because it’s supposed to be something you enjoy (that’s what a hobby is!), and the rest is secondary.)

#anon #ask #writing #ao3 #it's very odd to get called a popular writer by the way oh my gosh #nice!!! so very nice!!! thank you!!! but also difficult to reconcile with my own internal image of myself #all the more evidence that brains lie to us all the time #*

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estamos-destinadas · 5 years

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just finished re-reading your hp au fic and i really adore it so much, especially the details you've included about Ilvermorny - since jk kinda sucked the fun out of it with all the appropriation you sort of brought it back to life for me. anyway, even if you never write more, i'll likely go back and re read often. on that note, do you think you'll ever add more to it?

Hi anon.

I’m not sure if you mean the two stories I’ve posted on AO3 so far or just the first one, but just in case, the AO3 link is there. (And you probably know this already, but I’d also like to point out jetpackingpenguin’s Hogwarts/Triwizard AU which is awesome.)

And I know what you mean about JK Rowling. The new stuff aren’t fun and very disrespectful. She’s unfortunately very Euro-centric and it looks like she’s not taking off her blinders anytime soon.

I was hesitant to continue the HP AU because it would take place in the very setting we HP fans have complained about, but I have all these ideas and I thought maybe I could just use this opportunity to make a commentary about that. So to answer your question, yes, I am going to continue writing the HP AU. (write what you know, as they say.)

And on that note, here are a couple of snippets:

Lucía here is their Muggle Studies studies teacher. I alluded to it in the previous fics.

“I wish our Muggle Studies teacher brought us to these kinds of trips,” Andrew said to Lucía. After the toy shop, the student chaperones had led them to an electronic store, to the amazement of the other kids. They’d just left said store and were now just looking through the shop windows.

Lucía hummed, taking a moment to observe the students in front of them. “If all schools actually hired Muggle-borns to teach Muggle Studies, students would learn legitimate things about the Muggle world.”

“The Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts now is Muggle-born, you know,” said Andrew, sounding defensive. “Not when I was a student, though,” he admitted ruefully.

“Well, I suppose that’s another thing Ilvermorny has over Hogwarts,” Lucía replied. She didn’t really care about school rivalries, but Andrew was always so annoyingly superior about Hogwarts that she enjoyed enumerating ways as to why Ilvermorny was better, no matter that she didn’t believe them. “It has hired Muggle-borns to the Muggle Studies post for the past few decades.”

Andrew scoffed. “It’s all well and good for Ilvermorny to hire Muggle-born teachers, but the MACUSA still forces us to hold Muggle-born students’ wands hostage when they have to go home on breaks. That law’s outdated, I don’t know why it hasn’t been scrapped. It’s been proven that school-aged children are more prone to accidental magic if they don’t have their wands with them.”

“Oh, I won’t argue with you there,” said Lucía. “I think the MACUSA might be the only magical government that restricts underage wand-use to school boundaries. We certainly don’t have that back in Mexico,” she added. “And as for accidental magic without wands, that only applies to children educated under European systems.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Native American schools here teach wandless, nature-based magic,” Lucía pointed out. “And [the school we have in Mexico] has a mandatory subject on it from first to seventh year. Children educated under non-European systems are far better at controlling their magic without wands.”

“Wait– wandless magic?”

Before Lucía could reply, she noticed Valentina leading Juliana by the hand towards the front of their group. Valentina said something to the seventh-year Muggle-borns that Lucía couldn’t hear, but she pointed towards a clothing shop nearby, making her intentions clear.

After three days of being cooped up in the castle, Valentina and Juliana were finally able to go out of doors. The winter cold remained, but it was no longer biting, and the sun shone brightly, driving away the last traces of the past few days’ bad weather.

It was the perfect day to go flying, and Valentina was planning to do just that. She’d decked herself and Juliana in warm flying robes, Juliana borrowing one of hers, and they’d put on beanies for good measure. The flying robes had high collars that protected their necks from the cold, so they’d done away with scarves as it would only get in the way. Having dressed appropriately, they’d raced across the school grounds towards the broom shed to get their brooms.

“Hey, Juls,” Valentina called out as she took down her Nimbus XV from its specially-reserved rack.

Juliana, who was selecting a school broom from the communal racks on the other side of the shed, turned and gave Valentina a questioning look.

Valentina smiled slightly. Juliana looked adorable, covered as she was from head to toe with the exception of her face. “Do you wanna use my broom this time?” she offered.

“Val,” said Juliana, giving her a hesitant smile, “you said that’s not a beginner’s broom.”

Valentina nodded. The Nimbus XV was a Chaser’s broom, built for speed and agility over stability, responding to its rider at the smallest touch. “Yeah, but you said you wanted to fly up to the tower by yourself,” she said, meaning the disappearing tower she’d used to retreat to when she was feeling particularly down. She’d shown it to Juliana a few weeks ago and they’d gone up there twice, both times with Valentina flying the two of them on her broom. “With the wind, it’d be hard to go up there on those old brooms. We don’t have to go up there now, but you can start practicing on this.”

“But what will you ride? I don’t want to go up there by myself.”

Valentina scoffed playfully. “I can fly up to the tallest tower on like a… Firebolt 1.”

Juliana chuckled at that. “Alright, Señorita Águila, do you want this one?” she asked, taking out the Firebolt Magnum out of its rack. It was what Juliana had been using, the newest among the school brooms. In fact, it had been donated by Valentina herself when she’d upgraded to her Nimbus XV last year.

Valentina nodded, walking across the shed towards Juliana, who met her halfway. She handed her Nimbus to Juliana while Juliana gave her the Firebolt. Her old broom thrummed somewhat erratically in her hand, an indication of its less than perfect condition. The Magnum was still a relatively new model, having only been released a few years ago, but Valentina had always breezed through broom models like they were fashion trends. It had never been out of a desire to have the latest model; her brooms just had a habit of quickly wearing out. Eva had sometimes said that Valentina ought to take better care of her things, but Valentina never really saw the point of it until she had to help Juliana select the best out of the school’s sad collection of second-rate or second-hand brooms.

I’ve chosen those snippets because they’re mostly exposition and have a lot of nerdy Harry Potter stuff, which you seem to like, anon. 😊

Mind, those are unedited, so excuse the errors / weirdly-constructed sentences. I still don’t even have a name for the Mexican school.

Anyway, I am glad you like the story. I have most of it formed in my head up to Juls’ fifth year and Vale’s seventh. (I should probably outline it, lol.) I’ve got some ideas after that, but they’re all fuzzy. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to write all of it down, but if the time ever comes that I feel like I can’t – hopefully that doesn’t happen – I promise to just dump it on a “proto-fic” type of post.

#au #harry potter au #magic au #every time I put in that 'keep reading' thing I pray to the internet gods that it works #it never does on first try :/#stories #mine

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itsreigns · 5 years

Text

Work For It

Sheamus x Reader

Requested by @xfirespritex

Sheamus meets (Y/N) at an open tryout for WWE and he is really interested but doesn’t make a move or anything. He can’t stop thinking about her. One day he goes to the PC and she’s working out there, because she was given a developmental contract in NXT.

(A/N): This is almost 2k! Damn. Please, let me know what you think. Leave comments, constructive criticism, or more ideas or even if you another part, on my inbox. I’ll definitely appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this fic. If you want to get tagged let me know. (I just deleted this ugh so I have to repost it...)

Tag Squad:

With a duffel bag resting on his pale shoulder and the hot Floridian sun beating down on his back, Sheamus made his way to the entrance of the Performance Center. He stopped in his tracks once his eyes landed on you.

Sheamus didn’t recognize you, so you surely were at the PC for the open tryout, and you were… stunning. At least for him, you were.

For a few seconds, he studied you.

You stood there, with your dark brown hair tight in a ponytail, completely caught up in a conversation with another woman. Your big brown eyes sparkled as you laughed at something the woman said.

You were definitely something special, Sheamus thought. He couldn’t quite come up with a specific explanation as to how or why he was completely drawn to this woman… only that he was.

Suddenly, your gaze moved, landing on him, and your eyes met. Sheamus felt like a deer in headlights. He quickly averted his gaze and walked towards the locker room, feeling his face blush.

You shrugged it off. Slightly. Because it somehow caused a twisted feeling on your stomach.

You know Sheamus. Well, not personally, you just know the character he plays. And you love it. Still, you were always curious to know how he is behind the spotlight and the cameras.

You’re very attracted to the man, physically. Not the persona, but the man behind it. The way he wore his hair, down and natural, as it was just now… his beard… the way he just is a simple and laidback guy, wearing comfy clothes and laying low. Yeah, he was your type.

You snap out of your thoughts, suddenly realizing you’ve completely zoned out of the conversation for a couple of seconds.

----

The tryout had gone out pretty well. After the individual presentations, the group was distributed through some of the WWE wrestlers. You and three other girls ended up with Cesaro. So currently, you were just doing a small briefing with him and the girls.

When you’re done, you and Cesaro walk down to the locker room together, the other girls staying behind you, chatting. The walk was quiet, and you were slightly lost in thought. But suddenly, Cesaro’s voice snap you out of it.

“(Y/N), hello? Hey? You in there?” He snaps his long fingers in front of your face, chuckling. You finally face him, your cheeks tinted with a slight blush, worsening when you notice Sheamus standing beside him. “Now that you’re back on Earth, as I was saying, (Y/N), this is Sheamus. Sheamus, this is (Y/N).”

There’s a few seconds of awkward silence. You and Sheamus are both blushing, fidgeting nervously, as Cesaro looks between the both of you, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you… (Y/N).” Sheamus finally says, his voice rougher than what you were used to from TV, and Jesus Christ, the way he said your name… his goddamn accent.

Your heart is beating madly in your chest, and you could swear your legs turned to jelly.

“I- Hm, it’s nice to meet you too.” You mumble, feeling your face hot as a tomato.

The awkward silence turned into uncomfortable, and Cesaro really didn’t understand what was going on, but he definitely intended on asking Sheamus about it.

“Oookay.” Cesaro exhales deeply. “We’ll talk soon, (Y/N). See ya.”

“See ya.” You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your gaze locked with Sheamus’ briefly, before they head to the locker room, leaving you in the middle of the hall, heart and mind racing, watching them walk away.

----

Fifteen minutes later, in the men’s locker room…

“Man, what the hell was that all about?” Cesaro shoots, as Sheamus dried himself off, after taking a shower.

Sheamus stops his motions to face him. “That what?” He shrugs it off.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cesaro looks at him, well-knowingly that he’s hiding something from him. “Ok, fine. I guess you’ll tell me about her when you’re ready.”

Sheamus briefly glances at Cesaro, but didn’t say anything else.

A month after that day, Cesaro was definitely proven right. As he knew he would.

“I knew it. I so knew it.”

“Stop, man.” Sheamus pleads, maintaining his attention on packing his suitcase.

“Nope. Not until you tell me all about it.” He grins, sitting at the bottom of the bed, looking down at Sheamus, who’s sitting at the carpet, packing his stuff.

“There’s nothing to tell, brother… I just liked her.” He shrugs, taking a second to look at Cesaro.

“Pfff… you just liked her? Really? That’s all you’re going to say?” Cesaro shakes his head in disbelief. “Man, I know what I saw. You were nervous as fuck back then, all blushing… You didn’t just like her.”

“Gah, Jesus Christ! I don’t know either, man!” Sheamus shoots, finally placing his whole attention on the conversation. “I just saw her and… I don’t know. There was something about her. I can’t explain… I just feel it. And I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“That’s so romantic.” Cesaro smiles widely, in a lovey-dovey manner.

“See? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” Sheamus scoffs, both sad and angry.

“I was kidding, man… I think that was a sign. Stuff happens for a reason. Fate. Destiny.” He says, standing up and patting his back. “You should ask her out. See where it goes.”

“That’s if she wants anything to do with me… I mean, she’s like what… 30? And I’m close to be an old fucker…” He mumbles, as Cesaro frowns after hearing his buddy putting himself down this way. “She deserves better. She probably wants better.”

“Are you fucking stupid, man? Didn’t you see that she looked exactly like you did when you two met? Jeez, you gotta be blind.”

“Don’t bother… I’m not going to see her again anyway, so…”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Cesaro mutters, but Sheamus catches up on what he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Sheamus was still suspicious with what his friend had said, but decided to ignore it. He knows that the odds of running into you again are very low.

----

It’s been two months since your awkward encounter. During this time, you’ve gotten yourself a brand new WWE contract, and you couldn’t be happier. It’s a developmental contract in NXT, so you spent a lot of time working out and training at the PC lately.

Not many people know yet. You only told your family, Cesaro, and a couple of friends from the roster. You didn’t want to make a big buzz about it. You’re still in training and working on your character, so you want to work your ass off and let things flow. That way, when you debut, it’ll be a complete surprise.

Today, you thought it would just another day in the PC. But soon after arriving, you were proven wrong.

You’re doing some weights when you start feeling observed. So you stop your motions, and look behind you.

Only to find Sheamus in the exact same spot, with the exact same look on his face, just like two months ago. Surprisingly though, after a couple of seconds, and after an awkward stare down, he walks up to you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks somewhat nervously.

“Uh… hello to you too.” You mumble, gazing down at your feet. “I’m working out…”

“Yeah, I noticed… but why here?” You can tell he had absolutely no clue you’d be here. He looks distressed, nervous, but a lot surprised too. Maybe he secretly hates you. It sure does look like it.

“I, uh… I got a developmental contract, so yeah, I’m working out here.”

“Wait, you were hired?”

“Yep.”

“That son of a bitch…” He mutters, thinking about Cesaro and how he never mentioned you getting a contract, and also how he tricked him into going to the PC because it’d be a ‘calmer place’. Unfortunately, you can’t quite figure out what he said. “Well, congratulations.” He adds, simply.

“Thanks…” You sigh. Then, you try to contain yourself but you just couldn’t. “I’m sorry if I bother you. You don’t have to put up with me. I’ll just stay over here, quiet in my corner.”

Sheamus mentally punched himself in the face a thousand times when those words left your lips.

“You don’t bother me. I mean, you do. But not bother bother, you know. Well, uh, I-” He’s rambling, but stops for a few seconds to gather his thoughts when he sees your brows furrowed in confusion. “You do bother me, but in a different way… a good one.”

“Is there a good way to bother someone?”

For the first time, he looked at you right in the eye.

You honestly don’t know how long you stood there just looking at each other… just taking each other in properly. It’s Sheamus’ voice in a smooth, gentle tone that snaps you out of it.

“Shit, she really is beautiful.” He whispers, but you knew you weren’t meant to hear it.

“W-what?”

“Fuck. I said that shit out loud, didn’t I?” You nod, as you notice the blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I mean, you are beautiful. At least I think you are beautiful. I just didn’t mean to say it out loud, you know, because it’s probably creepy that I just said that to you and-“

“Hey, stop.” You place the palm of your hand over chest as you speak. “It’s ok.” He somehow looked more relaxed after that small gesture. “I appreciated it, thank you. And for the record, I think you’re beautiful too.”

“Ha, beautiful. That’s the first time I’m hearing that one. Well, second, but my mom doesn’t count.” He jokes, followed by a genuine, light chuckle.

“Maybe you haven’t heard it, but it’s still true.” You smile gently, watching as his face grew serious. He looked intently at you, as if studying you, your features.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, grab some coffee with me?” He offers, scratching the back of his neck, nervously. “Only if you want, of course. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I understand, it’s-“

“I’d love to.” You cut his rambles off once again, smiling widely.

“Really?” His face was still serious, and it genuinely broke your heart to see that he actually doubted that you’d agree to go out with him so easily.

“Really. I’d absolutely love it.”

“Ok, then… we’re set.”

“I’ll give you my number, so we can arrange the time and place.”

The smile on his face is so genuine and wide, it made your heart flutter in your chest. You watched as he typed his number down on your phone. He looked lighter, happier. You don’t know why, but something about him told you that this man would be a very big part of your life.

You texted Sheamus that night, you just couldn’t stop yourself. And he replied. So sweetly.

It’s been almost a month since that day, and you’ve texted back and forth every day, and about everything. You’ve became really close. But that coffee date hasn’t happened yet.

But tonight... tonight, the text you were longing for, finally arrives.

“Tomorrow, coffee? I’ll pick you up at 8.”

PART 2???? Also, wanna get tagged? Let me know.

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #wwe one shot #wwe oneshot #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #reader insert #sheamus imagine #sheamus fanfiction #sheamus fanfic #sheamus fic #sheamus one shot #sheamus oneshot #sheamus x reader

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ariaadagio · 6 years

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Aria’s Long List of Lucifer & Deckerstar Fic Recs - Part 3

Hello, all! Since I completed writing Castaway earlier in September, I’ve finally had a chance to start catching up on my reading list. I still have tons left to read, but I think I’ve hit critical mass on fics I liked enough to recommend, so I’m back with another round of recs!

These recs are organized by author name and category (for the most part), and the list order is not meant to imply an order of preference. All recommendations are completed fics unless otherwise noted. If anyone knows the @ tumblr names for any of the authors I missed tagging, or if I got anything wrong, please let me know.

You can find my other recs posts here (part 1), here (part 2), here (part 4), here (Part 5), and here (part 6).

S3E24 Aftermath Fics

Some Kind of Mysterious by Autumn Rayne

~2300 words

This is a lovely little peek into Chloe’s reaction. She’s somewhat thrown for a loop and initially pulls back, but as she slowly regains her footing in this new reality, the repeated refrain of “she does not miss Lucifer” becomes increasingly full of denial. Charming!

It would be for this by Dreamline

~4600 words

Heaven and hell were words to me by nosecoffee ( @nose-coffee )

~2600 words

I’m listing these two stories together because they’re a series of sorts. The first story is told from Trixie’s POV, which is a great use of dramatic irony. Because of how the story is constructed, the reader knows far more about what’s going on that Trixie does, which prompts a bit of puzzle solving on the part of the reader, and the result is lovely. The second story is told from Lucifer’s POV, waking up in the aftermath. The last few lines in particular are heart-wrenching and perfect.

Beautiful man with a beautiful face, who was not a man at all by an_earl

~8800 words

An_earl has a lovely, lyrical style of writing that’s captivating. I enjoyed reading about Chloe, now in the know, considering past events in a new light. Also, delicious angst so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Carry On by IceQueen1 ( @disappearinginq )

~5000k words

Chloe reacts. Lucifer misunderstands said reaction. Some lovely heartfelt drama ensues. Perfect all around.

heart to heart (soul to soul) by Lesza ( @spiacooczna )

~3000 words

This story starts with Chloe and Lucifer at odds, but the ice is gradually broken via the use of text messages, which is something I can intimately relate with because I’ve lived it (not the Devil reveal, obviously, but social anxiety that was resolved in a similar way). This was the first story I read in my current “binge,” and I was captivated from start to finish. Lovely angst, and the ending will make your heart soar.

Simpatico by pixelbypixel ( @pixelbypixelfanfic)

~3100 words

For a funny, more off-the-wall approach to post S3, a distraught Lucifer commiserates with Deadpool. This made me laugh and smile so much, which was something I sorely needed when I read it.

Aftershocks by Subsequent ( @inclines )

~19400 words

A lovely, more light-hearted approach to the “aftershocks” of S3E24. Chloe deals with being “in the know,” and the gang deals with fixing the mess left behind by Cain. Lots of humorous touches and great lines, to include everybody quickly being brought into the Lucifer is Lucifer loop.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by @spirantization

~31,000 words

A series, currently of three works. I haven’t yet had the opportunity to read the third piece, but the first two are a delight. Poor Chloe is trying desperately to keep up with her new reality, and failing woefully at every turn. Meanwhile, in the second story, Lucifer and Maze perpetrate some of the most hysterical sniping and snark at each other that I’ve ever read. And, of course, there’s M.V.P. Linda, a perennial presence in both stories, trying to referee this whole mess. I have so much love for this series!