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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 8

(Y/n)'s POV

I know someone at camp resents Percy and me because one night, I come into the cabin alone and find a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page. The article takes me almost an hour to read, because the angrier I get, the more the words float around on the page.

GIRL, BOY, AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT

By Eileen Smythe

Sally Jackson, son Percy, and daughter (Y/n) are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned '78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding.

Mother, daughter, and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident.

Ms. Jackson's husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past.

Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his sister's and his mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson, (Y/n), Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free Crimestoppers hotline.

The phone number is circled in black marker.

I wad up the paper and throw it away, flopping down on my bunk on the far edge of the cabin under the window facing the sea.

I remain silent as Percy walks into the cabin, flopping down onto his bunk as well.

That night, I have the worst dream yet.

I was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind me. Not New York. The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance.

About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked, and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, and the wind rose.

I had to stop them. I didn't know why. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand.

Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, Give it back! Give it back! Like a kindergartner fighting over a toy.

The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying me with salt.

I yelled, Stop it! Stop fighting!

The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned my blood to ice.

Come down, little hero, the voice crooned. Come down!

The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. My feet slipped, and darkness swallowed me.

I wake up, sure I'm falling.

I am still in bed in Cabin Three. My body tells me it's morning, but it's dark outside, and thunder rolls over the hills.

A storm is brewing.

I hadn't dreamed that . . .

I hear a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold.

"Come in?" Percy asks, sounding uncertain.

Grover trots inside, looking worried. "Mr. D wants to see the two of you."

"Why?" I ask, peeking through the curtain separating mine and Percy's side of the cabin.

'He wants to kill . . . I mean, I'd better let him tell you."

Nervously, Percy and I get dressed and follow, sure we were in huge trouble.

For days, Percy and I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that we were declared children of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figure it's just a crime for us to be alive. The other gods had probably been debating on the best way to punish us for existing, and now Mr. D is ready to deliver their verdict.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looks like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain is coming in our direction. I ask Grover if we'd need an umbrella.

"No," Grover says. "It never rains here unless we want it to."

Percy points at the storm, 'What the heck is that, then?"

Grover glances uneasily at the sky. "It'll pass around us. Bad weather always does."

I realize that he's right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley.

But this storm . . .

This one's huge.

At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin are playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysius's twins - Castor and Pollux - are walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everyone is going about their normal business, but they look tense; they keep their eyes on the storm.

Grover, Percy, and I walk up the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sits at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sits across the table in his fake wheelchair. They are playing against invisible opponents - two sets of cards hovering in the air.

"Well, well," Mr. D says without looking up. "Our little celebrities."

I wait.

"Come closer," Mr. D says. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortals, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."

A net of lightning flashes across the clouds; thunder shakes the windows of the house.

"Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus grumbles.

Chiron faints interest in his pinochle cards and Grover cowers by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

"If I had my way," Dionysus says, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron puts in.

"Nonsense," Dionysus says. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."

"Mr. D - " Chiron warns.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relents. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rises, and the invisible players' cards drop onto the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you two must do."

Dionysus picks up a playing card, twists it, and it becomes a plastic rectangle. A security pass. He snaps his fingers. The air seems to fold and bend around him. He becomes a hologram, a wind, then he is gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.

Chiron smiles at me and Percy, but he looks tired and strained. "Sit, Percy,(Y/n), please. And Grover."

We do.

Chiron lays his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, (Y/n)," he says. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name makes me shudder.

Chiron probably wants me to say, Heck, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast. But I don't feel like lying.

"It scared me," I admit. "If you hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."

"You two will meet worse. Far worse, before you're done."

"Done?" Percy asks. "With what?"

"You're quest, of course," Chiron says. "Will you accept it?"

I glance at Grover, who is crossing his fingers.

"Sir," I say, "you haven't told us what it is yet."

Chiron grimaces. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

Thunder rumbles across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I can see, the sky and the sea were boiling together.

"Poseidon and Zeus," I guess. "They're fighting over something valuable . . . something that was stolen, aren't they?"

Chiron and Grover exchange looks.

Chiron shoots forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"

"The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And...I've also been having these dreams."

"I knew it," Grover says, his eyes bright.

"Hush, satyr," Chiron orders.

"But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes sparkle with excitement. "It must be!"

"Only the Oracle can determine," Chiron strokes his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, (Y/n), you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

Percy laughs, looking nervous, "A what?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warns. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"Oh."

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron says, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?" I guess.

"Stolen," Chiron corrects.

"By whom?" I ask though I guessed what he was going to say.

"By you two," Chiron says and Percy's jaw drops.

"At least"—Chiron holds up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon argued. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't - We didn't -" Percy goes to say.

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron says. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you two as his children. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief.

"But we've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!"

Chiron and Grover glance nervously at the sky. The clouds don't seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They are rolling straight over the valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.

"Er, Percy . . . ?" Grover says. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggests. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam...." He looked at Percy.

"The Golden Net?" I guess again. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods trapped Zeus in it and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler?"

"Correct," Chiron says. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you two have come along—the proverbial last straw."

"But we're just kids!" Percy protests.

"Percy," Grover cuts in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, and that he's father, not one, but two mortal heroes who might be used as a weapon against you . . . Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

"But I - we didn't do anything, Poseidon - our dad - he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?" Percy asks, and I remain silent in thought.

Chiron sighs. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a fullfledged war would look like, Percy? (Y/n)?"

"Bad?" Percy guesses.

"I'd guess that it would be like nature at war with itself," I say and Chiron nods.

"Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight," Chiron adds to (Y/n)'s statement.

"Bad," Percy repeats.

"And you, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

And then, it starts to rain. Volleyball players stop their game and start in stunned silence at the sky.

We had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of us.

"So we have to find that bolt," I say. "And return it to Zeus."

"What better peace offering," Chiron says, "than to have the son and daughter of Poseidon return Zeus's property.

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" Percy asks.

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression is grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago...well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

"Why can't you tell us where the bolt is beforehand?" Percy asks.

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

I swallow thickly. "Good reason."

"You agree then?" Chiron asks.

I exchange a glance with Percy, then Grover, who nods encouragingly.

Easy for him, I think. We're the ones Zeus wants to kill.

"All right," Percy says. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron says. "Go upstairs, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

. . .

"Well?" Chiron asks us.

We slump into our chairs at the pinochle table. "She said we would retrieve what was stolen.

Grover sits forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron presses. "This is important."

My ears are still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She said we would go west and face a god who had turned. We would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."

"I knew it," Grover says.

Chiron doesn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

"No," Percy says. "That's about it."

He studies Percy's face, then meets my green gaze. "Very well. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

I get the feeling he knows we're holding something back, and he's trying to make us feel better.

"Okay," Percy says, looking anxious to change topics. "So where do we go? Who's this god in the west?"

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron says."if Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain."

"Someone else who wants to take over?" I guess.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

"Hades," I say, raising an eyebrow.

Chiron nods. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbles out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh - what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminds him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but - but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protests. "Especially if he has found out Percy and (Y/n) are children of Poseidon . . ."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continues. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy and (Y/n) to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill these young half-bloods before he can take on the quest."

"Great," I mutter. "That's two major gods who want to kill us."

"But a quest to . . ." Grover swallows. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in someplace like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy and (Y/n) must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

A strange fire burns in my stomach. The weirdest thing is, it isn't fear. It's anticipation. The desire for revenger. Hades had tried to kill me two times so far with the Minotaur, and the hellhound. It is his fault my mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he is trying to frame me, my dad, and my brother for a theft we hadn't committed.

Grover is trembling now; he'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.

The poor guy had to complete a quest with me and Percy so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that is, but how can I ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said we were destined to fail?" This is a suicide mission.

"Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy tells Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus and Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."

"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron says. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used," Percy says.

"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon had claimed you and (Y/n) now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs the two of you."

My dad needs us.

Emotions roll around inside me like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. I don't know whether to feel resentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored me for twelve years. Now suddenly he needed me.

3rd Person POV

Percy looks at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?"

"I had my suspicions. As I said . . . I've spoken to the Oracle, too."

(Y/n) gets the feeling that there is a lot he wasn't telling them about the prophecy, but she decides that she couldn't worry about that at the moment. After all, she and Percy were hiding back information too."

"So let me get this straight," Percy says. "We're supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"Check," Chiron says.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"Check."

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"That's about right."

(Y/n) looks over at Grover, who gulps down the ace of hearts.

"But I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asks weakly.

"You don't have to go," Percy tells him. "I can't ask that of you."

"Oh . . ." He shifts his hooves. "No . . . it's just that satyrs and underground places . . . well . . ." He takes a deep breath, then stands, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his t-shirts. "You saved my life, (Y/n), Percy. If . . . if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let the two of you down."

Percy feels so relieved that he wanted to cry, though he didn't think that would be very heroic. Grover is the only friend she'd ever had for longer than a few months. Percy isn't sure what a satyr can do against the forces of the dead but he feels better knowing he'd be with them.

"All the way, G-man," Percy turns to Chiron. "The Oracle just said to go west."

"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."

"Where?"

Chiron looks surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

Percy's POV

"Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane -"

"No!" Grover shrieks. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me and (Y/n) anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash.

"Percy, think," Chiron says. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive."

Overhead, lightning crackles and thunder booms.

"Okay," (Y/n) says, not looking up at the storm. "So, we'll travel overland."

"That's right," Chiron says. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered if you will accept her help."

(Y/n)'s POV

"Gee," I say, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a suicide quest like this?"

The air shimmers behind Chiron.

Annabeth Chase becomes visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, Seaweed Brain," she says. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

"If you do say so yourself," I say. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"

Her cheeks flush. "Do you want my help or not?"

The truth is, I do. I need all the help I can get.

"A quartet," I say. "That'll work."

"Excellent," Chiron says. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashes. Rain pours down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron says. "I think you should all get packing."

Word Count: 4018 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert #female reader #reader insert #fem reader

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kookie-doughs · 3 years

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Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 17: I Swim For The First Time...?

It was Annabeth's idea. She loaded us into the back of a Vegas taxi as if we actually had money, and told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front." "You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked. He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first." Annabeth handed him her green Lotus Cash card. He looked at it skeptically. "Swipe it," Annabeth invited. He did.

His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign. The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highness?" "The Santa Monica Pier." Annabeth sat up a little straighter. I could tell she liked the "Your Highness" thing. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change." Maybe she shouldn't have told him that. The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert. On the road, we had plenty of time to talk. Percy told us about his latest dream. The Lotus Casino seemed to have short-circuited my memory. I couldn't recall what the invisible servant's voice had sounded like, though I was sure it was somebody I knew. The servant had called the monster in the pit something other than "my lord" ... some special name or title.... "The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades." "Maybe..." he said.

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described." He shook my head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

The crooked one... Annabeth's eyes widened. And looked at Percy. Who had a look of realization. "What?" I asked. "Oh... nothing. I was just—No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—" "Like what?" "I—I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt." I wasn't sure what was wrong with her. She looked pale. "But if Percy already retrieved the bolt," I said, "why would we be traveling to the Underworld?" "To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your parents back." I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat." "Why, thank you."

"Only mine is there. I'd rather get Y/N's than mine." Percy said gripping my hand.

"Huh?"

"You lost them thanks to me." He smiled weakly. "A-Anyways, the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," I reminded. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?" Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. Annabeth was looking at me as if she knew my next question, and was silently willing me not to ask it.

I have every answers. I could tell you. What do you wish to know? We are to help one another after all...

Could you tell me how I could save my parents?

Save them? As I told you only we could save them. Being there, you'd know your only option. Only you could do it. Do you wish to know more?

What's this quest?

A trap. Next one?

Who is my parent?

Hahaha, that is a question I shan't answer. Just believe in all gods. Befriend them and you'll know. You could trust them all.

Even Zeus, Hades and Poseidon? They kinda suck...

Unless you're positive they aren't your parent, you don’t have to.

Yeah, can I have like... I don't know... I kinda want Hephaestus. He seems coolest. I an NOT blessed in like singing and all that so I can’t be Apollo's.

I've already given you a parent. My apologies. The one I chose would be... quite a friend. Would you want to know more?

Well not re---

"Y/NN!! Ask more about the quest and Percy's dream!!!" I hear Annabeth scream at my ear.

"Oh my gods! Don't scream at my ear!" I yelled pushing her away. "What do you mean ask about Percy's dream? Who will I ask? The driver?"

"You----"

"She can't remember whenever that happens." Percy explained. "They already told us."

"What are you guys talking about??"

"Nothing. We were thinking about the pit..." Annabeth sighed.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" I asked her. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?" "Y/N... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades... No. It has to be Hades." Wasteland rolled by. We passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES. The problem was: we were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. If we got there and found out we were wrong, we wouldn't have time to correct ourselves. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin. "The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured us. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing." She tried to boost our morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but my heart wasn't in it. There were just too many unknown factors. It was like cramming for a test without knowing the subject. And believe me, I'd done that enough times. The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it reminded me of Echidna's reptilian voice. At sunset, the taxi dropped us at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave. Grover, Annabeth, Percy, and I walked down to the edge of the surf. "What now?" Annabeth asked. The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. I thought about how long it had been since I'd stood on the beach at Montauk, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea. I felt anxious being near the water. Percy took my hand.

"What?" I said slowly pulling away from him.

"Trust me and come with me." He said looking at me in the eye. "Percy," Annabeth said. "That's stupid! She can barely stay alive up here!"

"If the water pulls her could you save her?" He glared at the two. "As long as she holds me she'll be safe." He gripped my hand.

"I-I'll trust you... But I have to make sure you won't let me drown... I-I need---" Annabeth then sighed and walked over to us taking our wrist.

"If she drowns I am totally not siding on you during the war." She hissed at Percy while tying Aphrodite's scarf on our wrist.

"how do you have that?" Percy asked.

"I forgot I gave it to her." With our wrist attached by a cloth, he held my hand tight then we kept walking, up to my waist, then my chest.

"I'm scared..." I gulped. Percy pulled me closer. That's when my head went under. I held my breath at first. It's difficult to intentionally inhale water. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I gasped. Sure enough, I could breathe normally. Percy was smiling at me, with his arms still around me. We walked down into the shoals. I shouldn't have been able to see through the murk, but somehow I could tell where everything was. I could sense the rolling texture of the bottom. I could make out sand-dollar colonies dotting the sandbars. I could even see the currents, warm and cold streams swirling together. I felt something rub against my leg. I looked down and almost shot out of the water like a ballistic missile. Sliding along beside me was a five-foot-long mako shark. I almost screamed until I saw how cute it was. The thing wasn't attacking. It was nuzzling me. Heeling like a dog. Tentatively, I touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting me to hold tighter. Percy took my hand and wrapped it on the fin, he grabbed the fin with both hands, so I followed his actions. It took off, pulling us along. The shark carried us down into the darkness. It deposited us at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sand bank dropped off into a huge chasm. It was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon at midnight, not being able to see much, but knowing the void was right there. The surface shimmered maybe a hundred and fifty feet above. I knew I should've been crushed by the pressure. Then again, I shouldn't have been able to breathe. I wondered if there was a limit to how deep I could go, if I could sink straight to the bottom of the Pacific. Then I saw something glimmering in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward me. A woman's voice, "Percy Jackson." As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding. She dismounted. The sea horse and the mako shark whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag. The underwater lady smiled at me. "You've come far, Percy Jackson. Well done. And you brought... a friend." I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed. "H-Hello..."

"You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River." Percy said. "Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court." "An... you serve in Poseidon's court?" She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest." I felt so out of placed being here so I wrapped my arms around Percy tighter. "If my father is so interested in me," Percy said, "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to me?" A cold current rose out of the depths. "Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told him. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism." "Even to their own children?" "Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. Why do you think they're trying to find who Y/N's parent is? They helped raising her, that's why her scent is gone."

"M-My Olympian parent raised me? I don't remember anyone... I'm pretty sure neither my mom or dad are Olympians... or Greek."

"Well that is what they're trying to figure out."

"Well, what's my father doing then?"

"That is why I give you a warning, and a gift."

She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm. "I know you journey to Hades's realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?" "Urn... no, ma'am." "Ah, but you have something else, Percy. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet." "What will happen?" "That," she said, "depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."

Percy took the three pearls and pocketed it. "Oh... but there are four of us. We'll need one more."

She looked at me and Percy. Then looked at her empty palm. "Your father..."

"I'm not leaving any of them if I need to use this." Percy said firmly.

She sighed and out came another pearl. Instead of handing it to Percy she handed it to me. "The lord does not like you. He's been firm and obvious of that fact. But... as his son refuse to leave you..."

I took the pearl reluctantly and thanked her. "What about the warning?" Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy Jackson." She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void. "Wait!" Percy called. "At the river, you said not to trust the gifts. What gifts?" "Good-bye, young hero," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone. "Your dad... must really hate me to leave me in Underworld when worse comes to worse..." I muttered burying my face on his neck.

"Don't worry... I won't let him hurt you, just because whoever your parent is raised you." He kicked upward toward the shore. When we reached the beach, our clothes dried instantly. Percy told Grover and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls. Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price. Not to mention Y/N is hated." "They were free." "No." She shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait." On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea. With some spare change from Ares's backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. We showed the driver the Underworld address slip we'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told Percy. "You a child actor or something?" "Uh ... I'm a stunt double ... for a lot of child actors." "Oh! That explains it." We thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop. We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book. Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars. Percy froze in front of an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody

"—my stepdad, Smelly Gabe." He explained.

He was talking to Barbara Walters—I mean, as if he were some kind of huge celebrity. She was interviewing him in our apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand. A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife... my Camaro... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it." "There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver. He has taken a young girl that goes by Y/N L/N with her." The screen cut to a grainy shot of me, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares. "Who are the two other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America." "C'mon," Grover told me. He hauled us away.

It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a New Yorker. I don't scare easy. But L.A. had a totally different feel from New York. Back home, everything seemed close. It didn't matter how big the city was, you could get anywhere without getting lost. The street pattern and the subway made sense. There was a system to how things worked. A kid could be safe as long as he wasn't stupid. L.A. wasn't like that. It was spread out, chaotic, hard to move around. It reminded me of Ares. It wasn't enough for L.A. to be big; it had to prove it was big by being loud and strange and difficult to navigate, too. I didn't know how we were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by tomorrow, the summer solstice. We walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging. As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you." Like an idiot, I stopped. Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys. Instinctively, I drew my knife. When the knife appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at me with a switchblade.

Percy then pulled me behind him and swung Riptide. The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the..." I figured I had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed taking Percy's hand. We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner. "There!" Annabeth shouted. Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE. "Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated. It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside. "I think we lost them," Grover panted. A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?" We all jumped. Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to. His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—I couldn't even count them. "I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile. I resisted the urge to say, Yes, you are. "Sorry to barge in," Percy told him. "We were just, um, browsing." "You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?" I was about to say No, thanks, when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom. There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size. "This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O. "Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, any-way. "Um," Percy said, "I don't think..." "Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool." "Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost." "Almost what?" I asked. He looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit." Annabeth said, "But what—" He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her. "Hey!" she protested. Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!" Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress. Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down. "N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!" The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and Percy to grin. "Almost, darn it." I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec." "Let my friends go." "Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first." "What do you mean?" "All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit." Annabeth and Grover kept struggling. "Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!" A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Grover and Annabeth's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends. "Don't worry," Crusty told us, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?" "Percy! Y/N!" Grover yelled. My mind was racing. I knew I couldn't take on this giant water-bed salesman alone. He would snap my neck before I ever got my sword out. "Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" Percy asked. "Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted. "The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens. "Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that." "You're right. It's got a good ring to it." His eyes lit up. "You think so?" "Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

Percy looked at me weirdly. When I gave him a nod he must've understood. He got closer to hold my arm. Crusty grinned hugely, his fingers still didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?" "Not too many." "That's right!" "Y/N!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?" "Don't mind her," Percy told Procrustes. "She's impossible." The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting." "What do you do if they're longer than six feet?" "Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix." He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe. He said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end." "Ah," Percy said, swallowing hard. "Sensible." "I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!" The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose. "So, Crusty..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?" "Absolutely. Try it out." "Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?" "Guaranteed." "No way." "Way." "Show me." He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?" I snapped my fingers. "Ergo." Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress. "Hey!" he yelled. "Center him just right," I said. The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom. "No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo." Percy uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments ..." "You drive a hard bargain," he told us. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'" "I think I'll start with the top." Percy raised my sword. "No money down! No interest for six months!" He swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers. I cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot. "You look taller," I said. "Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time."

Percy looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map. "Come on," Percy said. "Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death.'" "Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."

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jedi-order-apologist · 4 years

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- I know ol’ Palps is a big doodoo liar pants but one of his line stuck out to me and I’d like to share my thoughts. He says “The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power.” Now, we obviously (hopefully) know that’s bullshit but I think it gives an interesting look into Papa Palp’s (and by extension, the Sith’s) philosophy on power in comparison to what we know about the Jedi. Hear me out. (1/3)

- The Jedi value and seek things like knowledge, wisdom, self-control, justice, and love. To them, these are powerful, however, these things are typically not associated with power—true power—in either our culture or the Sith’s. Be that as it may, in pursuing these things, the Jedi actually do gain power as it is traditionally defined, almost unintentionally. Jedi have combat skills enough to dominate most life forms in the galaxy, can influence the minds of other sentient beings, (2/3)

- and eventually even achieve immortality. These things are supremely powerful according to most definitions and yet they are not the type of power the Jedi actively seek for their own sake. But the Sith do seek them. And although they have the first two, the most of coveted of them—immortality—still eludes them. So from a certain point of view, Palps is right in saying both groups seek power. However what power means to each of them are very different. (3/3)

You could look at it that way, yeah - the Sith seek power to control others; the Jedi seek power to control oneself, and Palpatine either doesn't understand the difference or he's disingenuously conflating the two to manipulate Anakin (or both). But I think it goes further than that - the Jedi have power, yes, and they work towards developing their individual power as a means of using it responsibly, but they aren't obsessed with it or with gaining more like the Sith are. The Jedi have (or at least strive for) a healthy, cautious, balanced engagement with power - neither insisting on being powerless nor focused on being the most powerful there can be, but instead accepting where their power lies and how they can put it to use in the service of society, not over society.

I think Yoda's confrontation with Dooku in Yoda: Dark Rendezvous, where he challenges Dooku to turn him to the dark side, is an excellent demonstration of the difference in this attitude towards power between the Jedi and Sith:

“You want me to tell you about the power of the dark side?” Dooku said wonderingly.

Yoda had the dragon’s eyes again: half closed, gleaming under heavy lids. “Strong, strong the dark side is in this place,” he murmured. “Touch it you can, like a serpent’s belly sliding under your hand. Taste it, like blood in the air…Tell me of the dark side, apprentice.”

“I’m not your apprentice anymore,” Dooku said.

Yoda snuffed: laughed: stirred the air with his crooked stick. “You think Yoda stops teaching, just because his student does not want to hear? Yoda a teacher is. Yoda teaches like drunkards drink. Like killers kill,” he said softly. “But now, you be the teacher, Dooku. Tell me: is it hard to find the power of the dark side?”

“No. The lore of the Sith—that is another matter. But to touch the power of the dark side, to begin to know it, all you have to do is…allow yourself. Relax. We carry the dark side within ourselves,” Dooku said. “Surely you must know that by now. Surely even Yoda has felt it. Half of life, dark to balance light, waits inside you like an orphan. Waiting to be welcomed home.

“We all desire, Yoda. We all fear. We are all beset. A Jedi learns to suppress these things: to ignore these things: to pretend they don’t exist, or if they do, they apply to someone else, not us. Not the pure. Not the Protectors.” Dooku found himself beginning to pace. “To know the dark side is merely to stop lying. Stop pretending you don’t want what you want. Stop pretending you don’t fear what you fear. Half the day is night, Master Yoda. To see truly, you have to learn to see in the dark.”

“Mmmmmmmm.” Yoda hummed and grunted, eyes nearly closed now. “The dark side, power would give me.”

“Power over all. When you understand your own evils and the evils of others, it makes them pitifully easy to manipulate. It’s another kind of push-feather,” the Count said. “The dark side will show you the stiff places in a being. His dreads and needs. The dark side gives you the keys to him.”

“Hmph. Very fine that is, but Yoda has power,” the ancient Master said, examining his hairy toes. “I live in a palace bigger than this one, if I count the Temple as a palace. Dooku is a master of armies: but Yoda is a master of armies, too. So far, we are even.”

“Is there such a thing as too much power?” Dooku mused. “For instance,” he continued carefully, “there was a day when your power was clearly greater than mine. Today, however, I have waxed as you have waned. You stand in my citadel. I have at my command servants and droids and great powers of my own that I think would overwhelm even you. It is possible that at a single word, I could have you killed. And without you, how long would those dear to you last? I could have them, one by one: Mace and Iron Hand, Obi-Wan and precious young Skywalker, too. Surely you would feel safer if this were not so.”

Yoda cocked his head to one side. “Like Anakin, you do not?”

“Perhaps he reminds me too much of myself at the same age. Arrogant. Impulsive. Proud. I realize humility is high among the Enforced Virtues, the ones no one acquires by choice; but that being said, if Fate is looking for an instrument to humble Skywalker, I confess myself willing to volunteer.”

Yoda reached behind his back with his stick, trying to scratch a spot just between his shoulder blades. “Power over beings, need I not. What else can it give me, this dark side of yours?”

“What game are you playing here, Master Yoda?”Yoda smiled at the use of the term Master—curse him—and shrugged. “No game. Wasteful, this war is. Even you agree. Sent you the candle, did I: you know there can be coming home for you. Know this, both of us do, and if come back to the Temple you wish, I will take you there.”

“Very kind,” Dooku said dryly. “Decent of you to give me an arm to lean on.”

“Always catch you will I, when you fall,” Yoda said. “I swore it.”

Dooku flinched as if stung.

“But another way to solve the war there is. If you will not join with me, perhaps join with you I should. Tell me more,” Yoda said testily. “If power over beings need I not, what else can your dark side do for me?”

“What do you want?” Dooku snapped. “Tell me what you want and I will show you how the dark side can help you achieve it. Do you want friends? The dark side can compel them for you. Lovers? The dark side understands passion in a way you never have. Do you want riches—endless life—deep wisdom…?”

“I want…” Yoda held up the flower in his hand and took another sniff. “I want a rose.”

“Be serious,” Dooku said impatiently.

“Serious am I!” Yoda cried. He bounced to his feet. Standing on the desktop, he was almost as tall as Dooku. He held the flower imperiously toward his former pupil. “Another rose, make for me!”

“The dark side springs from the heart,” Dooku said. “It isn’t a handbook for cheap conjuror’s tricks.”

“But like this trick, do I!” Yoda said. “The trick that brings the flower from the ground. The trick that sets the sun on fire.”

“The Force is not magic. I can’t create a flower out of thin air. Nobody can—not you, not the Lord of the Sith.”

Yoda blinked. “My Force does. Binds every living thing, the Force I understand.”

“Master, these are games of words. The Force is as it has always been. The dark side is not a different energy. To use it is only to open yourself to new ways to command that energy, that have to do with the hearts of beings. Want something else. Want power.”

“Power have I.”

“Want wealth.”

“Wealth I need not.”

“Want to be safe,” Dooku said in frustration. “Want to be free from fear!”

“I will never be safe,” Yoda said. He turned away from Dooku, a shapeless bundle under a battered, acid-eaten cloak. “The universe is large and cold and very dark: that is the truth. What I love, taken from me will be, late or soon: and no power is there, dark or light, that can save me. Murdered, Jai Maruk was when the looking after him I had; and Maks Leem; and all the many, many more Jedi I have lost. My family they were.”

“So be angry about that!” Dooku said. “Hate! Rage! Despair! Allow yourself, just once, to stop playing at the game of Jedi Knight, and admit what you have always known: you are alone, and you are great, and when the world strikes you it is better to strike back than to turn your cheek. Feel, Yoda! I can feel the darkness rising in you. Here, in this place, be honest for once and feel the truth about yourself.”

At this moment Yoda turned, and Dooku gasped. Whether it was the play of the holomonitors, beaming their views of bleak space and distant battles, or some other trick of the light, Yoda’s face was deeply hidden in the shadows, mottled black and blue, so that for one terrible instant he looked exactly like Darth Sidious. Or rather, it was Yoda as he might have been, or could yet become: a Yoda gone rotten, a Yoda whose awesome powers had been utterly unleashed by his connection to the dark side. In a flash Dooku saw how foolish he had been, trying to urge the old Master to the dark side. If Yoda ever turned that way, Sidious himself would be annihilated. The universe had yet to comprehend the kind of evil that a Jedi Knight of nearly nine hundred years could wield.

From the shadows, Yoda spoke. “Disappointment like I not, apprentice,” he snarled, in a wicked, wicked voice. “Give me my rose!”

To Dooku, there is never enough power. It's a goal in and of itself, and he's convinced he can have anything as long as he has enough power, even impossible things like never again being afraid, and he frantically shifts around the goalposts when Yoda picks apart the flaws in his logic.

Yoda, on the other hand, recognizes the limits of power and is satisfied with that, with what he has. And it's Yoda who has the much healthier outlook, here, who "wins" this debate. He doesn't turn to the dark side (what Dooku sees at the end of the excerpt is only a vision), and he renders Dooku very conflicted about the dark side (at least until Anakin shows up, and Dooku is so offended by Anakin's existence and his own conviction that Yoda likes Anakin more than him that he throws a fit and jumps right back into the dark side).

#the-redcapesarecoming #discussion #yoda dark rendezvous #on the force #in defense of the jedi #on the dark side #on jedi philosophy #yoda #dooku

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thegoodgayshit · 4 years

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Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twelve: I Learn the Hard Way I Love to Talk

Kansas City was Luz’s kind of weather. It was sunny and hot right as the sun began to rise, and Luz felt her muscle warm with the sun. The three of them got off the bus and headed to a café to grab some breakfast so Luz could catch them up on her dreams somewhere a little more private.

They went into a Starbucks and each ordered, taking turns using the bathroom to freshen up. They decided to grab a couple of wraps and snacks for the road since they didn’t know when they’d have time again. The barista insisted they get the staff discount, (Luz swears that were all just the flower crowns and not her bargaining for a lower price) and they packed some of the food away in their backpacks and took a seat at one of the window tables. Luz picked at her ham and cheese sandwich as she recalled her dream, the memory of them making her lose her appetite.

Gus had taken a big bite out of a blueberry muffin as she recalled the mountain dream, and he got so excited he choked and needed to swallow down some hot chocolate.

“That must have been Hestia you saw in the cage. So we know that she’s still in Colorado.”

Luz nodded in agreement. That did make sense. The girl had seen Luz staring right at her, and spoken directly to her. If that didn’t fit the description of a goddess she didn’t know what did. She moved on to the dream about Amity, but this one she said a lot slower, doing her best to keep her temper. Amity might have been mean to Luz when they met, and she didn’t like hearing that she had bullied Willow, but nobody deserved to be treated the way Luz saw her being treated. They had to get her out of there. When Luz finished, Willow and Gus seemed to share the sentiment.

“That’s terrible!” Gus exclaimed, being careful to not choke this time.

“She’s been alone for over a week now,” Willow added with a frown. “I don’t know how much longer that she’s going to hold out.”

“Well, I know where she is. I saw the address in the dream. 1200, West 55th street.” Luz said, shoveling the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, her body filling with newfound determination. “Let’s go get her.”

“It’s definitely a trap,” Gus warned, but he was also packing away his food garbage, so Luz knew he was also ready to go. “We need to be careful.”

“Whatever it is, we can handle it,” Luz said confidently. “The first guy even said that he would be dealing with us on his own. It’s three on one! How could we lose?”

“It’s bad luck to talk like that, Luz,” Willow whispered lowly. She was rubbing her arms nervously. “You’ll jinx us.”

The three of them threw out their trash and headed out into the city. They called for a cab and squeezed into the backseat, asking the driving to take them to the address. It was the weekend, so there wasn’t too much traffic, and before they knew it they had pulled up to a huge white manor. They paid the driver and got out, exchanged awed glances at the mansion before them.

Luz had seen it in her dream, but in person, it was a lot grander. It was an old colonial-style mansion with a few modern twists, with big windows and a triple glass garage. It was sitting on at least two acres of land. The stone plaque she had seen in her dream was there, and it was gated by a huge fence. Outside the gate, there was the huge sculpture of a lyre, a tell-tale sign from Theseus that they were in the right place.

“So, what exactly is the plan?” Luz asked, feeling a lot meeker than she was before.

“We could try being stealthy, getting in, taking Amity, getting out,” Gus offered. “I don’t know how effective a full-frontal approach would be.”

“What about the fence?” She said, gesturing to it.

Willow hummed, before taking a couple of steps back and running. She leaped at the fence, climbing it with ease and leaping to the other side, landing in a roll. She turned to the two of them and smiled. “Just like the rock wall at camp!”

“Woah!” Luz said, her mouth dropping. She forgot how agile Willow could be when she wanted to. Sharing a look with Gus, the two of them followed her, albeit not as gracefully as Willow. When they hit the ground, they began to quietly head through the garden to the main entrance. Crouching behind the entrance, they looked at one another with a raised brow.

“Now what?” Luz said, but before Gus could open his mouth, the hair on the back of Luz’s neck rose, and the sound of the most beautiful instrument Luz had ever heard echoed throughout the air. The doors to the manor swung open, and without even realizing she was doing it, Luz stood. It was enchanting, and Luz needed to get closer.

Willow snapped, and Luz’s head cleared immediately. She shook it out, and looked around in panic. She had walked all the way up to the entrance of the door, and so had Gus before she even knew what had happened. Gus looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head.

“What happened?”

“Musical enchantments,” Willow said with a frown. “I remember the Apollo campers experimenting with those my first summer at camp. It’s not too dissimilar to plant magic, it also comes from the heart. We’ll have to be careful.”

“How do you ignore something like that?” Luz asked, her heart hammering in her chest from the effect of the music.

“Try and keep your mind grounded,” Willow offered. “I’ve had some practice, so you’ll be at a disadvantage, but if you try and focus on your surroundings we’ll be okay.”

Now that they were staring into the foyer of the manor, Luz was getting a lot more nervous. The whole house seemed to glare at her eerily.

“It’s creepy,” Gus said, and Luz nodded. They all drew their weapons, and Aletheia shifted into a knife. Gus clicked the button on his watch and drew his shield.

“Let’s stay together,” Luz said, doing her best to muster up that power of Hermes. Her friends would need it. “We’re strong together, and we can take whatever is thrown at us.”

Willow and Gus perked up a little, and together they headed into the house. It was much bigger on the inside than they had anticipated, and Luz bit her lip trying to remember where the room Amity was being kept in was.

“It was facing the window, towards the street…” she mumbled, turning right into another foyer. "It must be down here."

Sure enough, they soon entered the room, and Luz was shocked at how familiar it looked. Her dream had gotten everything right. But when Luz picked up speed to get to where Amity had been chained the night before, she turned the corner and came upon nothing.

She wasn’t there.

Luz faltered, her eyes widening in panic, and she heard Willow and Gus inhale sharply. But before they could turn and start looking around the house, the music started again, and Luz felt her muscles getting tighter. They were so heavy like she had been working out for a week straight and she couldn’t stand anymore. She dropped to her knees, unable to stop it. Next to her, Gus dropped his shield.

“Looking for someone?”

Luz did her best to turn her body to the sound of the voice. Standing in the archway of the room from the entrance they had come through was the man from Luz’s dreams, now dressed in a white cotton shirt and cuffed blue jeans. His black hair was gelled back, and he had olive skin and dark eyes that were glinting at them humorously. On his belt was Amity’s sword, and Luz’s eyes hardened at the sight. He had a golden lyre in one hand, that seemed to be playing the music on its own, and in the other, there was a set of chains wrapped around his hand. When she looked down at what the chain was connecting too, Luz’s eyes widened.

At his feet Amity was kneeling, looking just as battered as she had in the dream, her hands chained together in her lap. But now, at least, she was awake. Her gold eyes were misty like she hadn’t slept well in a long time, but they blinked in familiarity when they landed on Luz and her friends. Luz immediately perked up, swallowing hard to try and pull herself to her knees. All she managed was to stand on one knee.

Luz tried to shout, her face contorted in anger, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out. Gus was trying next to her as well, and it had the same effect. They were quieted.

“I have heard of your abilities, daughter of Hermes.” The man said, shooting her a cold smile. “My lyre will have stopped your voice for now. Try all you want, but it is fruitless.”

Next to her, Willow was still standing, seemingly unaffected by the music. The man lifted a brow to her.

“I have not seen a demigod resist my music in a long time. Are you a sister of mine?”

“No, my mother is Demeter,” Willow said, but from the look on her face, she didn’t really want to say anything. The man furrowed his brow further, speechless. Willow took the opportunity to step forward, clutching her sword. She did her best at a smile, adjusting the crown on her forehead.

“Please sir, don’t hurt me or my friends. We just want to leave as soon as possible and be out of your way.”

Orpheus faltered for just a moment before the smile returned to his face.

“Ah, the crown of Antheia. No wonder you are resisting so well to my magic. You have a little of yours on you as well, don’t you?”

Willow tightened her grip on her kopis, clearly disappointed that didn’t work.

“Let my friend go. Theseus sent us to take her home.”

“Theseus?” The man said with a laugh. “Has the plan changed yet again? I am not interested in playing 'quest' like I did in my last life. It drove me mad, chasing around prophecies left and right. No, I was given my orders. You won’t be taking her today.”

Willow glanced at Luz and Gus worriedly, and Luz figured out what was happening. Willow was buying them time. Luz inhaled the best she could, trying to follow Willow’s advice to ground herself. She pushed the music to the back of her mind, trying to focus on the quest at hand. Amity was still blinking at them like she couldn’t believe they were there. Luz pooled her strength. They had to get her out of this house.

“What do you mean, playing quest?” Willow said, feigning curiosity. She was taking a gamble on the man enjoying talking about himself, which seemed to work because he smirked.

“Back in Greece, I was a great musician. I traveled with Jason and his Argonauts on a series of quests far more interesting than the one you are currently on. I was a great asset to their team, I curbed the Sirens with a single song on my lyre. We brought glory to all demigods!”

The story seemed familiar to Luz, but she was too focused on gathering her strength. Willow thankfully put the pieces together for her.

“You’re Orpheus, the son of Apollo.”

Orpheus crinkled his nose. “Must you refer to me as his son?”

“But he gave you that lyre,” Willow said, confused. “Why would you not be proud to be his son?”

“I am not proud to be any sort of thing to these gods,” Orpheus retorted with a low growl. “The gods are the reason I lost Euridice. They played me like a fiddle, and I was the one to pay the price for it! I dedicated my music to my father and he stood by and watched while I suffered! When I died, I swore to the judges that I would never praise the gods. I was a heretic and a fool for trusting them to begin with. ”

The more his voice raised, the harder it was for Luz to keep her focus and not submit to the music. It seemed to get louder every time Orpheus raised his voice. Next to her, Gus’s face was turning purple as he tried to ground himself. Willow shuffled, realizing she was running out of time. If they just had a couple of seconds… but they still needed a plan, and they definitely couldn’t talk now.

Luz looked at the lyre, angry that a dumb set of strings had bested her. But as she looked at them moving back and forth, a thought overcame her. She glanced down at Aletheia, still in its knife form, and clenched it.

It would be a Hail Mary for sure. She wouldn’t have time to aim she would just have to throw. There was the risk she could hit Amity, and if she hit Orpheus it probably wouldn’t do much but buy them a couple of seconds.

“You let Euridice go because you looked back in the underworld,” Willow insisted, and Orpheus’ face purpled with rage. “Hades and Persephone told you the rules.”

“They tricked me!” He yelled, and Luz and Gus buckled at the new volume the music was making. Willow even winced, clutching her temple. At Orpheus’ feet, Amity groaned, and Luz felt her heartbeat quicken. They were running out of time.

She needed a miracle. Closing her eyes, Luz ducked her head and prayed.

Dad, I don’t know if you’re listening, but if you are, please. I need your help to throw my knife straight. Help me save my friends.

She didn’t know if it was the newfound strength from taking a moment to collect herself and resist the music, or if it was her dad’s blessing, or even if it was just unmeasured and unearned hubris, but when Luz opened her eyes she was ready.

She looked up at Willow, who was looking at her expectantly. Luz still couldn’t speak, but she did have her hands. She looked at Willow desperately and held up five fingers at her side. A countdown.

Somehow, Willow understood. Her eyes widened, and she turned back to Orpheus as Luz put down the third finger.

“They didn’t trick you! You made the mistake, you knew what would happen if you looked!” Willow exclaimed, doing her best to get a rise out of him.

Orpheus roared, clenching his fists and turning his gaze directly onto Willow. “I will make my music silence you!”

Willow stumbled as the effect shifted between them, dropping to her knees, and Luz felt the restrains of the music break from her. She scrambled to her feet, rearing back with Aletheia and throwing with all her might. Somehow, it sailed directly into the lyre, cutting the middle two strings in half and silencing the music for good. Luz felt her muscles relax as all the strength came flooding back into her body, and she turned to Gus and opened her mouth, finally able to speak.

“Go!”

There was instant chaos. Gus scrambled to his feet and charged, knocking Orpheus flat with his shield and the demigod yelped in surprise as he stumbled, skidding across the tile. Gus stabbed through Amity’s chains with his spear, breaking them. Willow raced over and used her kopis to cut the chains around her hands, and Amity finally was free.

Luz took off sprinting towards Aletheia, which was lying on the floor across the room. As she scrambled to pick it up, she squealed in surprise and dove left, barely escaping being cleaved in two by a xiphos.

Orpheus glared furiously down at Luz, gripping Amity’s sword tightly in his hand.

“You broke my lyre, you feeble excuse for a half-blood! You will pay for this!”

Luz’s eyes widened as he swung, and Luz had no choice but to dive again. She wasn’t nearly skilled enough with the knife to deflect a sword like this one, definitely not without getting her hand cut off. She didn’t think any amount of nectar could grow a new one back.

The sword swung and missed as Luz rolled, and she back kicked as hard as she could towards his hands. Luz felt something connect as he screamed in pain, and she grinned with glee at the realization she must have hit his wrists. She heard the clattering of something on the floor, and scrambled to her feet, only to immediately hit the floor again as she got kicked in the ribs hard. The wind was knocked from Luz’s lungs, and she cried out in pain as he stepped hard on her back, pinning her to the ground.

“Belos was right about you demigod’s,” he hissed, pushing harder to press Luz’s face into the tile. “You’re all just as foolish as we were.”

“Luz!”

Orpheus cried out again as Gus rammed into him with his shield, knocking him flat. Luz coughed as Willow helped her to her feet, and when her vision cleared, she smiled when she realized that Amity was standing, even if it was a little shaky, leaning on Willow for support. Gus backed Orpheus into a corner with his spear, holding it up menacingly at him.

“Stay back!”

“Oh, how menacing. Aren’t you just the scariest little boy?” Orpheus said sarcastically. He lifted his nose to Gus, mocking him. “Stay back!”

Gus flushed red with embarrassment. Luz couldn’t believe what he’d just done, and she growled under her breath, unable to contain herself.

“How can you seriously call us names? You’re acting like a little kid!” Luz stepped forward, glaring right down at him. Now that he was weaponless, alone, and overpowered, Luz could see right through him. He was just like Theseus. Bitter, lonely, and entitled because he thought he deserved better.

“You say that it’s the god's fault you got what you got, but that’s not true,” Luz said, and she saw Orpheus blink like he couldn’t believe how Luz was speaking to him. “You got what you got because you made mistakes that you blamed on everybody but yourself. And now you’re doing it again.”

There was so much she wanted to say to Orpheus, but she knew it was a waste of her breath. He had made his choices long ago, but Luz refused to let him embarrass and upset her friends because he couldn’t take accountability for his actions.

“I haven’t done this demigod thing for long, but I know that by putting your faith in Belos, and trying to destroy the gods, you are making a mistake that you’ll regret. We are not going to make the same mistake.”

Orpheus’ lips pulled into a sneer. “Tough words from you, half-blood. Why don’t you go find Belos yourself and fulfill the prophecy.”

Next to Willow, Amity inhaled sharply, and Luz looked over, her eyes widening. She looked terrified. Swallowing, Luz steadied her breath, turning back to Orpheus with a steeled expression.

“No. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to leave you alive, and leave this place. Then you’re going to tell Belos that we’re coming for him, and we’re going to free Hestia and save Olympus. That’s a promise.”

Orpheus quieted, pondering this for a moment. He looked directly into Luz’s eyes and then scoffed.

“I was right, you are foolish.”

Luz didn’t respond to that, she just touched her knife and Aletheia flipped back to a ring. She put it on her finger and walked over to pick up Amity’s sword. Heading back over to Amity, who had been watching the whole conversation in silence, Luz extended it out to her by the hilt.

“Here, you can have this back.”

Amity blinked at it like she wasn’t sure what it was. She looked up at Luz, frowning. Luz just smiled, wiggling it so she got the hint to take it. Eventually, she smiled softly back at Luz and strapped the sword to her belt. Already she was looking a little better, though she clearly needed some serious rest.

“Come on guys,” Luz said, passing one more look back at Orpheus who was glaring at Luz like he was imagining her head on a stick. She completely turned her back on him, heading back the way they came. “We’re done here.”

The four of them headed slowly out of the mansion, and towards the gate. With a swing of her kopis, Willow cut the lock on the gate, and they pushed it open, heading out into the street.

They started to walk, but their progress was slow. Amity was limping on her leg, and she couldn’t move very fast, and Gus and Willow were walking in front and behind keeping an eye out for either Orpheus following them or sending help.

They walked a significant distance from the manor in silence, none of them sure where they were really going before Amity couldn’t go any farther. She exhaled heavily and almost collapsed, and Luz caught her in her arms.

“Amity!” She cried out.

“I’m okay,” she breathed after a few moments. “I think I hurt my leg.”

“We shouldn’t have let you walk this far,” Luz mumbled, feeling guilty. Amity had been hurt for over a week now. She needed medical attention.

“There’s a little shaded area we can rest just ahead,” Willow said quietly. Luz realized she hadn’t said a word to Amity since they left the manor. She wondered if now that she was safe, all their skeletons in the closet were starting to resurface. Even Gus, who was usually quite friendly, had seemed to pick up the awkwardness too and was also unusually quiet.

“I can keep going,” Amity said, gritting her teeth and trying to push herself off of Luz to keep going. Luz shook her head, tightening her hold around Amity.

“No, you’re hurt. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

Amity pinked, opening her mouth to protest. “Luz, you don’t need to-”

“And, scoop!” Luz held Amity up in her arms and continued to walk. She wasn’t going to let her hurt herself further because she was trying to act all tough around her friends. Luz knew Amity had a lot of layers, but she could sacrifice some of them for her personal safety.

Amity must have realized this too because she didn’t protest for much longer. Luz could tell after a couple more minutes of walking that Amity was a lot more exhausted than she’d let on. Even though they were the same size, she was practically weightless. She probably hadn’t been given much in terms of eating since she’d been captured. Despite the sunny weather, her body was shaking too. She didn’t think it was from the cold, and with a jolt of understanding, Luz realized it must have been from fear. Luz frowned at this, turning her head to whisper quietly to her so Willow and Gus wouldn’t hear.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through in the last couple of weeks,” she said, and Amity tensed, turning her head away like she didn’t want to talk about it. Luz hesitated, not wanting to push her, so instead she tried a gentler approach.

“We’re going to figure this out together, ok? You’ll be able to rest, and then we can talk when you’re feeling up for it.”

Amity swallowed, and Luz looked down at her face. She seemed to be grappling with something, her eyes giving away how stressed out she really was. Luz felt guilt swirl in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to upset her more than she already was. Just as she was going to open her mouth to apologize, her eyebrows widened in surprise when she felt Amity rest her head onto Luz’s shoulder.

“Okay,” she said simply.

Luz felt a smile she couldn’t control pull at her lips. Maybe they were on the right path as friends after all.

Amity mumbled something else into her shoulder and Luz frowned leaning down.

“What was that?”

Amity pinked again, looking up to meet Luz’s eyes. Her gold eyes flashed in embarrassment.

“I said thank you. For saving me.”

Luz grinned, tilting her head and smiling so hard her eyes squinted.

“That’s what friends do!”

#the owl house #lumity #luz x amity #Percy Jackson AU #shelby speaks

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years

Text

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 5

(Chapter 5: Another day in paradise)

Josuke grit his teeth, his chin resting in his hand as he held the phone slightly away from his ear, though the guffaw that continued to ring out from the speaker could still be very much heard.

He had already called his Mom to check in with her when he first woke up this morning and since he had the whole day ahead of him he waited until after a much needed shower to call his best friend.

That now seemed like a mistake after listening to him howl with laughter for almost five minutes now.

He winced as Crazy Diamonds hands ghosted over the mottled flesh of his back, sharp pinging following their careful movements as the stand dutifully patched him up.

He was just glad the bed made it easier to sit down with that one.

From what he saw in the bathroom mirror, where those junkies had kicked him in the back had left a bruise that was the size of a basket ball and it was as black and green as Rohans signature hair.

Spots of the same colours along with splotches of an ugly purple were also sprouting on his upper left arm and shoulder. Not to mention the particularly ugly one that was currently taking up residence on his thigh and.... a more unsavory place just slightly north of there.

He had definitely been right about hurting in the morning that's for sure because he practically yelped when rolling over, causing him to fall out of bed and onto the carpeted floor to add to it all.

Staring up into the face of Crazy Diamond looking down at him from where he laid half-whimpering and aching all over was not a way he would recommend starting your day.

The fan of the hotel room spun slowly above him from where he sat on the huge marshmallowy bed in only a towel, his damp pale skin starting to dry and chill beneath the breeze.

"--so-so... lemme get this straight-... you..." Josuke rolled his eyes as Okuyasu struggled to keep his giggles in check over the phone. "You get there..... and-... hehehe.... and- not even like 2 hours.... -and you get beat up?"

"Yes." He sighed.

"BWAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"--oh Josuke!" He wheezed into the receiver, dying down into giggles again. "--I'm so sorry buddy- but that's.... -that's funny.... oww... owww my stomach..."

Josuke grunted, pulling the phone away from his head to avoid going deaf in his right ear as more barking laughter rang out.

He could practically feel Crazy Diamonds own eyeroll as they continued their ministrations on his back.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He groaned. "Just don't tell Mom, I don't want her to worry about me."

"So what happened after? You must've gotten away somehow right? Did CD put them in their place?" His words were almost drowned out by the obnoxious crinkling of a bag in the background, followed by the unmistakable crunch of potato chips drilling into his eardrum.

"No. I didn't even think about it. It was all happening so fast all I could think of was to grab hold of my suitcase and not let go."

"Oh man, you didn't lose your luggage did you?" Okuyasu questioned after swallowing his mouthful of junkfood very quickly. "Your Mom would have a fit!"

A smile found its way to Josukes face, "No actually. Someone helped me, oh man you should've seen him! He put a run to them and he was really cool too!"

Josuke proceeded to tell Okuyasu all about the one and only Abbacchio and their time together along with meeting Bucciarati.

He spared no details in telling him all about the scrumptious meal he had devoured that night, he could practically hear the other teenager drooling all over the phone as he described the juicy details of prosciutto stuffed chicken breast.

Bruno looked very anxious and warned him it was very dangerous to wander the streets at night, most especially when he was a tourist carrying all his possessions that didn't know where to go.

After Josuke had eaten last night, Bruno asked him if he was staying somewhere and the teenager realized he had completely forgotten about finding a Hotel!

The streets by then were dark and it was late, they had talked for so long but the time had just flew right bye. Jouske had grabbed his bag and thanked the two men graciously for the food and their company, making sure he bowed deeply in respect as he done so, about to head out to find one before he was stopped.

More importantly, he wouldn't even be able to read any signs leading to a Hotel.

Josuke realized he had gotten ahead of himself and accepted the mans proposal to take him to the Hotel a few blocks away, which he did and Josuke had to say, the place was like paradise on Earth.

The building itself was huge! Not to mention high-class. The lobby had a chandelier that was the size of his Livingroom back home! And the fountain in the center of it was bigger than the one outside his School!

Bruno chuckled seeing the owlish expression on his face as they entered through the glass sliding doors, the reflection of the golden lights above them on the polished white marble floor made his baby blue eyes sparkle. Abbacchio simply opted for staying outside and smoking a much needed cigarette while his partner helped Josuke arrange a room.

"Oh man!" Okuyasu said through another mouthful of chips. "That sounds A-B-C-Delicious! I wanna eat that!"

"You'll have to bug Tonio about it if you're that eager." Josuke laughed. "Speaking of food, you've eaten a full meal today right?"

The crunching came to a sudden stop.

"Define--"

"As in you've eaten something cooked and not just junkfood." He interrupted, drumming his fingers on his knee, he already knew his answer however.

Silence... he could actually hear the sounds of Stray Cat (whom both boys had taken to aptly nicknaming 'Guns and Roses') purring along with the feint sound of the TV playing in the background.

"Okuyasu!"

"Sorry! I'll eat real food tomorrow!" He whined. "I just forgot is all!"

"I've actually just been binge watching this goofy tv series. I've heard about it for a while but I finally decided to get into it. Man, I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow, I've been sitting on my ass for so long!" He cackled.

Josuke huffed, however deciding to not press him further on the matter and take his word.

Okuyasu needed to take better care of himself and Josuke usually had to remind him of the importance of it, along with helping his friend pilot through all his emotional troubles.

"It's this Anime thing called 'Dodo's Wacky Quest'. It's pretty good!" There was a pause as a indignant 'meow' sounded close to the phone, followed by more rustling of the chip bag. Okuyasu grunted, the phone crackling as he moved to hand the living plant a chip. "The series is pretty long though. But hopefully I'll have most of it done by the time you get back."

'Speak for yourself...' Josuke thought, shifting slightly on the bed to try and inevitably get more comfortable.

Crazy Diamond was almost finished with his back, the worst one was next.

"What series is it?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Huh," Josuke rubbed his chin, smiling. "I'll have to watch some of it with you."

"That'd be cool! Dodo kinda reminds me of you actually. I dunno if I've met any Jio in my life though, dude gives me the willies..."

Crazy Diamond leaned over him and tapped his leg, shooting him a look.

"I'd better go man. I'll try to talk to you tomorrow, remember your promise!" He said into the phone, turning away from his stand.

"Ok. Ok. I will. Jeeze..." the eyeroll he was getting was evident in the others voice. "Be safe JoJo!"

"I will. Bye."

He put the phone back in its cradle on the bedside stand and sighed, swatting away the phantom hands that pulled on the towel covering him and ignoring the exasperated 'Dora' as he shunted it aside himself.

'Lay on your stomach.' Came the telepathic order from Crazy Diamond. 'I can give you a massage after I'm done with the last bruise to help relax you further.'

He was just glad he didn't decide to tell Okuyasu about his last bruise, otherwise he would've probably passed out from laughter, resulting in Josuke to have to end the call promptly.

He'd never be able to live this down from his stand alone....

☆☆☆

There was so much he wanted to do, and so much he wanted to see. He decided to leave his suitcase behind within the safety of his room (not wanting a repeat of yesterday) carrying just his wallet, a disposable camera his Mom had given him to take pictures and his handy dandy comb of course.

Finally walking again and not shuffling along uncomfortably like an old man (as he had been doing earlier), Josuke strutted downstairs to the lobby without a hair out of place.

His precious mane had been properly lathered, rinsed, gelled, combed and hairsprayed and he was ready to tackle the day!

The golden charms adorning his uniform gleamed like his eyes and he walked with pep in his step, shoes shined and clicking on the polished marble floor.

He needed to tackle business first before he went about to getting some breakfast. He had already had a cup of strong instant coffee after the massage given to him by his stand, using the machine inside of his room (this Hotel really had everything).

"Hello." He greeted the lady at the desk in the lobby, a woman in her sixties with greying hair pulled back into a bun, maroon lipstick and matchig rectangular spectacles. "I was just wondering if I could pay for my nightly stay now and maybe pay for tomorrow too?"

"Can I have your name, dear?" She asked, already typing away on the keyboard of the large white box computer before her.

"Josuke Higashikata. J-O-S-U-K-E."

Her long black nails clicked and clacked away loudly on the keyboard, he watched in silence as her dark red lips pursed, her eyes scanning the screen.

"It says here you're already covered for your full stay."

'Embarrassing' wouldn't be a word he would use to describe a situation where he had to call his Nephew and demurely ask if he could get a lift home like a drunk teenager calling a half-alseep Parent in the middle of the night.

He blinked at her, raising both his eyebrows.

"Umm... I don't think that's right. I only booked the room last night..." he trailed off, feeling his heart starting to pound in his chest.

He prayed to God this somehow wouldn't end with him being in debt with no way home.

She hummed, "It says you're fully covered. You just need to inform the Hotel of the date you're departing and a direct deposit is already in order." She explained.

That answered absolutely none of his questions.

"How is that possible?" He asked, doing his best to keep his voice calm as he rubbed the back of his neck idly.

More typing and clicking.

"It says here that your stay has been covered by..... a Mr. Bruno Bucciarati. He arranged for the bill to be footed to him." Came her reply at last, turning in her chair to look at him.

It took the Highschooler a moment to process that, blinking like an idiot as she stared at him.

What.... when.... how did..... why did....?

"Oh.... uh.... I-I see. Thank you." He told the older woman at last, with a half-hearted wave goodbye as he left the lobby, out into the world of golden sunshine awaiting him outside.

Each question seemed to short-circuit in his brain, he couldn't decide on what to ask first.

Josuke finally realized he was lingering and staring as the old woman addressed him again, before averting his eyes, his face tinging a little pink.

Why on Earth would the man put himself through so much trouble? Paying out of his pocket for him at a Hotel where people who looked like they wiped their asses with dollar bills stayed there no less! It didn't make sense!

This Hotel seemed a little one the pricy side, he had actually been wary about staying here the night but didn't want to be rude and ask Bucciarati to take him to another Hotel, so he decided to risk it and see how much it was the next day (silently praying he wouldn't be dialing Jotaro Kujo afterwards with a speech prepared of course).

This however changed everything.

He was still a virtual stranger to Bruno and his partner, and he didn't feel like he had earned such a kind gesture. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that both men were wealthy but this just felt akin to stealing in Josukes eyes.

It was the least he could do. It's what he wanted to do. It's what he was raised to do.

Josuke leaned up against the stone wall of the Hotel, considering his options. He could tell the Hotel that wasn't necessary and to cancel that previous order and allow him to pay.

Or he could find Bucciarati again (it couldn't be that hard) and offer to pay him back, if not in money maybe he could do something in return for him.

That did it.

He took one last look at the Hotel to remember the name as he prepared to cross the street (he needed something to go off of if he was gonna find a way back afterall).

He had a new mission added onto today.

He was going to do some sight seeing, eat some more damn delicious food and keep his eyes open for either one of the men he dined with last night.

"Albergo brillante Diamante..." he murmured, absentmindedly scratching his cheek as he did his best to pronounce the words (in what he hoped was the correct manor).

"Hmm... wonder what that means."

All he truly knew was that he Josuke Higashikata, had a mission he was going to see through today.

...

He mentally added 'buying a dictionary' to his list today as he narrowly avoided a car coming in the street, yelling out a "Sorry!" To the driver laying on his horn (who wasn't supposed to have the right away).

[To be coninued... 》

#Diamante d'Italia #josuke higashitaka

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the-amour-scientia-series · 4 years

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What drives a story to continue? Is it the unanswered question, the unfinished quest? The long-awaited grand destiny that you have no idea when will start?

One of life’s greatest tragedies is when one misses out on life. It’s when you sign away your childhood to the attic after the split-second decision to protect the ones you love. It’s when you realize you were actually better off with the rebound than without. The hurt you brought on others in pursuit of your own healing. The common tragedy is that everyone’s gotta lose something right? So what happens if you lost everything?

What the fast-paced world usually doesn’t realize is that stories get told not because of the grand destiny, the dragon’s challenges, nor even the dame to be delivered from danger. They’re told simply because they were written. Someone took a step, fell, and flew. Someone set out to find the truth. The underdog rose when best fell short of greatness. It’s these stories of suffering that keep the bookmarks flitting, the mind wandering, the heart a-thumping. The fact that it was written is that it was meant to be read by someone, somewhere. Maybe not by you. Maybe not at this moment. But it never means the story is a waste.

The stories themselves are rarely all tragedies, regardless of how much planning is invested into them. But throughout my limited yet extensive existence in the stories of so many, I can admit my story cuts the closest to a rollercoaster ride.

As you can probably see, I always had a knack to think bigger than myself. Such even goes as far as jumping into (and winning) any academic competition or student election. Name it, I most likely got a medal for it, but I likely can’t show it to you without digging through drawers in our Awards Room back at home. Parents were never really much for displaying my or my sisters’ achievements. A simple abode is a treasure to behold, they always said. Besides, my then six-year-old prodigious brain had concluded, if they had been into framing our achievements, the certificates alone would quite literally wallpaper the whole house.

My apartment's wallpaper was a shade of powder-blue now, though, and was marked by newspaper imprints from where the painters too hurriedly abandoned their job. I haven't seen my parents for almost a year, after my still-prodigious yet sixteen-year-old brain had landed me a full scholarship in the reputable Preville Senior High. In a few months I’ll graduate and train to be a lawmaker in Central City, or an amour scientist in Allibourne Hall. I’ll be anywhere but here, and that was the plan.

What wasn’t the plan was to get dragged to the school’s annual music festival by my turbulent roommate and his fraternity friends. What wasn’t the plan was to stay there until late 10pm, and miss a long-awaited call from my older sister Desirée in Canada. What definitely wasn’t the plan was to bribe Nick with what remained of this month’s allowance, just so his friends would take their fraternity racket somewhere else.

And so that summer night found me, Deric Preminger, the black-haired immigrant and long-standing salutatorian, clenching fists in my pockets as I walked home alone, away from the noise of the musicfest.

I hadn’t even been able to gel my hair properly. Strands were already getting into my eyes so I held them against my head, exasperated.

Then I saw her.

Lorelei Marlowe-Monroe was marching on the sidewalk ahead of me—or was she skipping? Heel, flat, step; heel, flat, step; she was rhythmically gesturing as she bounced to a beat. I mentally kicked myself in the gut when I remembered how much we chatted last week about attending the musicfest together. I assumed she wasn’t as serious about it when we both went silent afterwards. Plunging into the noise of the musicfest hadn’t been part of any plan, but I definitely needed to apologize to her.

I called out her nickname. She didn’t stop. I tried her name but to no avail. I tried again, as loudly as the night would allow. She turned at a corner, and I saw why.

She was blasting music through earphones, just like what we do whenever we wanted to drown out our thoughts.

An uncalled-for realization surfaced from some regretful part within me. Was Lor also having thoughts she wanted to drown out?

Don’t think, I told myself, and broke into a run. She didn’t even hear the sound of my old sneakers slapping against the sidewalk. She didn’t even scream when my hand landed a little too heavily on her shoulder, in the process, pulling out an earbud by its cord. “Hey!”

What she did, however, was to stumble back when she turned and found our faces a few inches too close.

“Eric, hi!” she gasped. “Since when were you here?”

Seriously, this girl was hopeless against the world. Her purple-streaked long hair was pulled pretty into a low side-ponytail, barely obscuring the DON’T HATE, DON’T RAPE typography on her lousy shirt. But it didn’t mean she was street-safe in her dark jeans and doll flats, and everybody knew that.

She blurted when I said nothing. “Did you actually run after me?” Her green eyes showed no nighttime exhaustion, instead they posed the question like a challenge. I may have been caught with ungelled hair and cargo shorts, but I was never one to back down from a bluff.

“Don’t I look like I just did? I was calling for you before you even turned the corner! You should really stop wearing those earphones too much, you’re growing more deaf than you already are.”

She didn’t seem surprised by the sudden sermon. “Riiight. Say it again once you’ve done the same, you vile hypocrite, and we’ll see who’s even more deaf after a year.”

This girl was definitely in love with me. I felt an urge to smirk, and mentally kicked myself again. That was egoistic thinking. Battles of the brain shouldn't be fought by the heart, and Lorelei almost never let her guard down.

“Look,” I began, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to join you at the musicfest. Nick’s troupe got the best of me when then they swung by the dorm to pick him up. I didn’t trust him with that kind of company, and I… well, I couldn’t leave him to go off in the night, could I?”

Then I found myself unable to stop. “I actually saw you again at the student council’s refreshments stand and wanted to join you instead. But you know Nick…”

“Do you honestly think I'm leaving this early because of you?”

“Uhhh…”

She scoffed. I had to give her the win, though, for calling out my ego with so bluntly a retort. Petty arguments had always been part of our online and everyday exchanges, but rarely do we cut close to asking about how we affected each other's aspects. Maybe neither of us were ready to see past the other's facades. Maybe neither of us actually knew what lay behind all the bluffing, or why we always chose to bicker with one another. It rarely ever mattered until now, so…

“Whatever,” I spat, defeated.

A contagious smile stretched across her eyes and she laughed, punching me lightly on the shoulder as she did. “Anyway, now that I’m here, is there anything I can help you with?”

Lorelei was really reveling in the attention, wasn’t she? Just because I wanted to apologize for leaving her out when we’d made plans about going to the musicfest together —wait.

We made plans to go together. Did I just set up a date with her? And did I—did I just stand up on her on that?!

Disregard ego, that was not how a Preminger kept his word. I kicked myself again, as hard as I mentally could. Words spilled out before I could stop them. “D-do you want to go back to the musicfest with me?”

I saw myself standing before her, the expression of one with twisted intentions.

Then I woke up to my body screaming down there.

(to be continued) Photo by Luca Severin on Unsplash

#amwriting #novel writing #novelist #My writing #writers on tumblr #writing #chapter #work in progress #wip excerpt #wip #romance #ya #young adult #fiction

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corsairesix · 5 years

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Single Player Fallout 76: Do People Like You?

There have been a lot of systems over different Fallout games to determine whether people like you. I think a single player version of Fallout 76 would work best with a modified combination of Reputation, Karma, and Affinity. As always, check out my other stuff on the subject by searching #single player 76.

Reputation:

Reputation in Fallout New Vegas determined how much different factions and towns liked you. In Fallout 76, the map is a lot bigger and there are a lot more neutral towns than in New Vegas.

As such, Reputation would only cover larger unaffiliated towns, namely Morgantown, Charleston, Lewisburg, Haven, and Watoga.

Towns associated with a faction, such as Huntersville, Flatwoods, Point Pleasant, Harpers Ferry, share the Reputation with that faction.

Small unaffiliated towns, like Helvetia, Monongah, or Summersville, do not have Reputation associated with them. If they judge you at all, they do so on Karma.

Factions that have Reputations are the four main factions -- the Responders, Free States, Mining Coalition, and Enclave -- and the minor factions of the Order of Mysteries, the Cult of Mothman, each raider clan (Blackwater Bandits, Trappers, Diehards, Cutthroats, and Gourmands), the Scavving Hornets, a few of the major student groups that run Morgantown (this is separate from the Morgantown general Reputation, similar to the Strip Reputation vs. the White Glove Society Reputation), and Pioneer Scout Troop 436 (other Pioneer Scout groups are neutral).

Karma:

Karma is a difficult one. You can’t have it be too black and white -- the Responders, for instance, aren’t going to think your a bad person for stealing from the Coalition. On the other hand, people are going to be suspicious of you if you go on indiscriminate murder sprees as soon as you leave their territory, no matter how useful to them you are politically. So here are some ideas to make Karma a more useful mechanism.

Neutral territories are governed by Karma, not reputation. Towns like Monongah that are neither part of a larger group nor large enough to have enough problems that you can prove your worth to them judge you mainly on how much of a good person you are, whether you are generally kind or cruel. This also applies to other unaffiliated locations with people living there, like farms.

Fewer things change your Karma. My lowest Karma Fallout Courier was actually part of a pacifist run I did of New Vegas, and he had abysmal Karma because he had to steal things instead of looting bodies. Mainly, things like theft and murder should only apply for groups that aren’t a part of any faction with reputation, so you don’t get things like “the NCR thinks I’m evil because I stole from the Legion.”

Especially evil acts net evil karma anywhere. Needlessly cruel acts, even minor ones, such as kicking puppies and the like (probably not exactly that, since there aren’t really puppies in the wasteland) also give small amounts of evil karma.

Not everyone hates evil karma. Certain raider groups (although not all) might be impressed by your sadism. Some members of the Enclave will take your cruelty as a sign that you’re up for the job. Sometimes evil people like evil stuff.

The things that Karma effects is more than New Vegas (which, lets face it, is next to nothing), but much less than Fallout 3.

There are Karma limits on companions, but much less strict. Especially principled companions like Stump Matthews or Shannon Rivers won’t travel with you at all if you have evil Karma, while others might be vocal about how they want you to do better. No one refuses to travel with you for being too good, but some more morally grey companions might ask you to do something for them if your Karma is too high. There are no companions that require neutral Karma, because that’s dumb.

Affinity:

Affinity is Fallout 4′s “who likes you” system, where they decided the only people who matter are companions. It’s actually pretty decent on its own except that the game decided that people who aren’t specifically your traveling companion sometimes have opinions about you.

The four main faction companions -- Miguel Caldera, Ella Ames, Henry Henson, and Designation GX-55 for the Responders, Free States, Mining Coalition, and Enclave Respectively -- love it when your good reputation increases with their faction and hate it when your bad reputation increases (unless you convince Designation GX-55 to defect from the Enclave, in which case the opposite is true). The same is true for Jack Morgan with the Scavving Hornets and Shannon Rivers with the Order of Mysteries.

This is not true for Teddy McDonald with Troop 436 or Rose the Raider Miss Nanny with the Cutthroats. This is because both of them are involved in intra-faction politics (Teddy is trying to replace the Troop Leader and some other Cutthroats are plotting against Rose), so it’s possible to gain Reputation with a faction in a way that they wouldn’t like.

Companion quests sometimes trigger at a certain level of Affinity and sometimes trigger when certain actions have been completed. This depends on how much the quest is personal to them. Sometimes both are required for the quest to trigger.

Companions can be romanced at maximum Affinity, with the exception of Miguel Caldera and Shannon Rivers, who are in relationships, and Yingwu and the Runt Snallygaster, who are non-sentient robots/animals. Some companions can only be romanced by certain genders (for instance, Ava Feldstein is a lesbian), but even bi companions are textually bi rather than playersexual. Sometimes there are other requirements as well; for instance, Stump Matthews will only romance player characters over 40.

If you have any questions about this, send me an ask!

#fallout 76 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout 4 #single player 76 #fo76 #fallout

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youtuberswithalex · 6 years

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Virgil Sanders and the Big, Bad Dream

Summary: Virgil wakes up in the middle of the night from a terrible nightmare, only to discover that he’s regressed again. Luckily for him, his dad will always be there. [Sequel to A Little Anxious]

Note: Heyo, it’s my 3,000th post on this blog! I wanted to do something special, and I know a lot of people really enjoyed ALA and were really excited for the next one, so I sat down and finally finished writing this today. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3,361

Pairings: Platonic Moxiety

Warnings: Deceit, nightmares, manipulation, drowning, crying, self hate, parental panic

Writing Masterpost -- Ko-Fi

Virgil was alone.

His eyes snapped open to a solid pitch black darkness surrounding him. There was no light, no sound, no air, no air, he couldn’t breathe, he was going to die—

A footstep behind him. He whirled around.

“Who’s there?!”

A breeze brushed the back of his neck; his head snapped around in every direction, but there was nothing to be seen. He swallowed thickly.

“Hello…?”

“Oh, Anxiety…”

A glint of yellow flashed in the corner of his eye. Before he had the chance to look, something snatched his wrist. Virgil let out a yell as he was yanked back.

“Stop!”

Chilling laughter echoed as a cold, slimy… something slithered around his waist and constricted. A wheeze ripped out of him.

“How naive you were to think I’d ever let you go,” the voice sung. “To think you were ever worth something…”

He opened his mouth to retort, but it filled with water before any noise could come out. It trickled down his throat, into his lungs, choking him, drowning him—

“Those monstrous sides really have you wrapped around their fingers. Corrupting you into believing those lies… Oh, it just breaks my heart to see you turning into them.”

The glint of yellow reappeared, just a few feet in front of him this time. Virgil squirmed, trying to get out of the grip of whatever was holding him there, but it only tightened and choked him further. Bile rose in his throat.

Scales came into view, and then a face that grinned and sent shivers down at him. A hand came down to cup his cheek; it was bigger than his whole head.

“I always thought you had potential, Anxiety,” Deceit hissed. “I knew the others were always far too gone to save, but you were different. You were so much better than them. Always doing what you must to save Thomas, while they sat around and villainized us. Animals, really!”

He pulled his hand away and shook his head, shutting his eyes. Virgil swallowed thickly and looked down.

“Look at you now, though. You’ve turned into just as big a monster as they are. There’s no saving you now. You’re nothing but a villain, no matter which way you look at it. You’ve hurt them in the past, and you’re hurting us now.”

Virgil sucked in a shaking breath before a gloved hand snatched his chin and forced him to look into Deceit’s piercing eyes. His other hand lifted to hover by his face.

“You’ve trusted them far more than they deserve,” he growled. “I wanted to help you. You were family, after all. But this, Virgil?”

He shuddered.

“This will be your downfall.”

Deceit snapped, and fall he did.

Down,

Down…

Shuddering gasp ripping through his lungs, Virgil’s eyes snapped open; he moved to sit up, but his arms were entangled, the monster still had him it wasn’t a dream— until he wrangled himself to freedom and whirled around to sit on his knees. The blankets tumbled off of his shoulders as he panted, and the breeze from the air conditioning chilled goosebumps into his arms.

Wait.

He wasn’t wearing his jacket.

But no, that couldn’t be right, he slept in it every night, he hardly ever took it off unless Patton made him to put it in the wash, why would it be—

Dread pooled into his stomach. He looked down.

Virgil was kneeling on it. But it was nearly twice his size, and his hands were tiny.

His vision blurred.

Patton was fully aware that Logan would be incredibly disappointed in him right now.

As the Parks and Rec theme softly sounded again, his eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. 3:27 am: two and a half hours before Logan would be up, three and a half before Roman, and anywhere from three to five hours before Virgil, depending on how much his anxiety would allow him to sleep tonight. Patton himself wouldn’t be up until well after 10, so he could probably avoid Logan’s scolding glare, but he knew from experience that he couldn’t dodge it if he was still awake when Logan got up.

There was still plenty of time, though. Time enough to watch just a couple more episodes.

He yawned and settled in closer to the big Snorlax plush in his arms. It was getting towards the time that Patton should be setting his glasses to the side in case he fell asleep mid-episode, but he felt no motivation towards doing so. They pressed against his face and skewed thanks to Snorlax; normally, he’d ajust to fix it, but he simply let it happen this time.

His tired mind focused in and out on the episode, eyes fluttering open and shut.

…Something was wrong.

Patton blinked blearily and lifted his head at the twist of his gut, one of the legs of his glasses falling over his ear and down his face. A frown etched onto his face as he tried to decipher the cause.

When they had been kids, Patton used to get these feelings all the time for the smallest of reasons. Someone needed help getting a cup down from the cupboard, or with homework, or had gotten into a fight with another Side and they’d hurt each other’s feelings. There wasn’t much he could do most of the time, since he was just as small and immature as they were, but he’d always done what he could to fix the problems at hand. The older he got, the better he became at handling them, but the others had grown up and more independent too, of course, so he was needed less and less often as time wore on.

Gut Dad Instincts now were a rare occurrence, sure, but when he did get them, they were often emergencies. Roman coming back from a quest with an injury he couldn’t fix on his own, Logan stressing himself with work to the point where he’d collapse with a high fever that would last for days… When someone needed help but didn’t know how to or was too stubborn to ask for it, there was always a small, sharp twist in Patton’s gut alerting him, and he was on his own to figure out who it was from and how he could help.

When he got one this late—err, early –Patton could only fear a big, big emergency, one that would have surely woken him up even if he had been asleep. Worry swirled thickly around the Dad Instinct feeling.

Patton shot up and paused the video, listening closely. Surely, there had to be footsteps, or a door opening, or something that could alert him to who was in trouble. Something like—

Like the sound of crying a wall away.

He cursed under his breath as he scrambled out of bed and towards the nearest pair of pants lying on the floor. No one in the Mindscape cried without good reason except for Patton. If someone was crying, something was very wrong. He started preparing himself for the worst, for a medical emergency, or a friend of Thomas’s in trouble, or maybe even dead—

As soon as he threw his sweatpants on, Patton threw himself through his door and into the hall. He strained his ears to find the source of the noise.

Virgil.

Oh, god, no.

He sprinted.

Skidding to a stop outside of his door, he grabbed the handle and listened closely one more time. Maybe he was just hearing things, or maybe he was awake and watching something where a character was crying…

No. No, the sound wasn’t coming from any speakers, but Patton realized with a start that it didn’t sound like it was Virgil crying. There was something familiar about it, though, something that was just on the edge of Patton’s mind that he couldn’t quite bring to the forefront.

Quietly, he risked a gentle knock.

“Kiddo?” he called, trying to keep his voice down. “Virge, are you doing alright?”

He heard a sob, followed by the shuffling of fabric.

“Daddy?” a voice whimpered.

Patton’s eyes widened, a flash of a terrified toddler diving into his arms a few weeks ago running through his memory.

“Virgil, I’m coming in.”

He’d hardly finished the sentence before he pushed the door open.

There was no denying the crippling wave of relief that washed over him when he saw no injuries on the anxious trait, but it was very quickly snuffed out when the toddler-sized Virgil let out a shuddering sob and attempted to worm his way out of the blankets to get to Patton. The Father Figure Figment rushed over and untangled him, wrapping him up in his arms as he sat down on the bed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered. “What happened?”

Virgil clung to Patton as tightly as his tiny arms would allow him, and a string of garbled attempted words tumbled out. There wasn’t much Patton could understand, but he heard the words “dream” and “Deceit” in the same breath, and he silently pieced it together. He held Virgil a little bit closer as anger bubbled up over the Dad Instincts.

“Shh, kiddo. You’re safe. D’s not going to get you here,” he said.

Letting out a loud sob, Virgil buried his face in Patton’s night shirt and shook his head.

Patton pressed a gentle kiss into Virgil’s hair and began to rock them back and forth. His heart twisted knowing this was all he could do until Virgil could calm down enough to talk it out.

Down the hall, a door opened, and set of footsteps hurried towards them. Roman appeared in the doorway a beat later; one hand gripped his sword while the other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He still wore his red flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers, and if the situation hadn’t have been so heartbreaking, Patton would have laughed.

“What’s happening?” Roman mumbled.

Patton frowned, looking back down at the child in his arms. “He had a really scary nightmare,” he explained. “One bad enough to make him regress again.”

Roman’s eyes widened in understanding; as his free hand fell back to his side, he glanced around the room. “Is being in here going to make things worse?”

“Oh, gracious, you’re right…”

Patton peeled Virgil back just enough to peer under his eyes and check the eye shadow; sure enough, it was blacker than a witch’s cat and thick enough to rival a raccoon. The tears running down his cheeks soaked it up and left big, blotchy spots on Patton’s shirt, but they didn’t wash any of the eye shadow away.

With a grimace, Patton pulled him back against him and shifted so his head was on his shoulder and his arms tight around his neck. He carefully got to his feet and glanced at the jacket still lying on the sheets.

He turned to Roman. “Would you be willing to grab that? I’m going to bring him to my room.”

“Of course.”

The two quietly slipped around each other, and Patton steadily made his way down the hall, doing what he could to calm Virgil and keep his own emotions in check. His door was, thankfully, still wide open; he easily headed in and settled back onto the bed, pulling up his legs to sit cross-legged on top of the comforter and lowering Virgil to rest in his lap. Roman stepped in right behind them and carefully handed the jacket to Patton.

“Thank you, Roman,” Patton said. “Go back to bed. I can handle this from here.”

“Are you sure? I don’t—I don’t want to—”

Roman turned his face away, trying his hardest to stifle a yawn; when he turned back, Patton smiled softly and shook his head.

“It’s okay. Get some sleep.”

Nodding in defeat, Roman headed back to the door and gripped the knob, pulling it almost closed. “Thank you, Patton. Wake me up if you need anything.”

“That’s my line.”

Roman let out a soft laugh; the smile fell as he looked down to the toddler in Patton’s lap. “Virgil?” he gently offered. “I hope you feel better, young prince. You’re safe with Daddy now.”

Virgil sniffled and clung closer to Patton. The adults shot each other sympathetic glances before Roman bid the two good night and shut the door.

As soon as they were alone, Patton pulled Virgil away long enough to wrap him in his jacket and swipe the current tears away with the pad of his thumb. For the first time since he’d been found, Virgil made eye contact with him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Patton felt his heart shatter. He quickly shook his head, brushing the hair out of Virgil’s face.

“Oh, Virgil,” he sighed. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Pulling his arms out, Virgil shook his head and wiped his eyes. He leaned away from Patton’s touch. “I woke you up! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!”

Patton let out a short laugh. “You didn’t wake me up, kiddo. I hadn’t gone to bed yet. Even if I had, I wouldn’t have been upset about waking up when you needed someone!”

Virgil sniffled, hesitantly peering up at him. “You wouldn’t…?”

“Never in a million years.” Patton slowly lifted his hand to boop Virgil on the nose. “You’re more important than a little sleep, Virgil.”

There was a beat of silence. Virgil stared down at Patton’s hand, to the dark splotches on his shirt, and then up to the gentle smile being offered to him.

His lower lip trembled, and he curled in further on himself. Tears spilled down his cheeks again as he squeezed his eyes shut. He let out a whimper and dove back into Patton’s arms.

“I-I-I’m n-not!” he sobbed. “I sh-shouldn’t be! I’m sorry!”

Patton hushed him and pulled him close, gently rocking them again. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

Virgil began to tremble against his chest. “I don’t want to be bad…!”

“You’re not bad, Virgil.”

“I was mean to you and Ro and Lo!”

“But you know better than that now, and I’m so proud of you for growing so much.”

Patton pressed another kiss into Virgil’s hair and began to rub his hand up and down his back, all while Virgil shuddered and snuggled closer into him.

“Why-y?” Virgil whimpered.

Patton tightened his grip. “Because I love you, Virgil! A good dad’s love for his kids is always unconditional. And I always will, no matter how bad or how mean you’ve ever been or ever get. Okay? I love you, Virgil. That won’t ever change.”

They stayed like this for a long while, until all of the tears had been shed and the cries had grown silent. Though Virgil still trembled in his arms, Patton let out a soft sigh of relief that the worst was over. Carefully, he moved to rest his cheek on the top of Virgil’s head.

“Hey, sweetheart?” he muttered. “I think some sleep would really do you some good. How about we go back to bed?”

Virgil let out a weak whimper, followed by a sniffle. He was quiet for a beat.

“…Can I stay with you tonight?”

It took everything Patton had in him to not break down in tears himself at the fear lacing Virgil’s tone. His eyes squeezed shut as he nodded slowly.

“Absolutely, honey. You can come any time, big or small, okay?” he said.

Virgil nodded and gripped Patton tighter.

When it became clear that Virgil wasn’t letting go any time soon, Patton carefully maneuvered them until his head rested on his shoulder before he stood and headed to the light switch. Virgil let out a cry when the room darkened; Patton was quick to plug in the fairy lights that lined his ceiling.

They made a quick stop at Patton’s desk to drop off his glasses and get Virgil a drink of water from one of the many, many cups that lined the edges, and then the two carefully settled under the blankets. Virgil fell asleep laying on Patton’s chest almost instantly, lulled away by the steady heartbeat and calm breathing.

Patton, however, took a little while longer, mind racing with thoughts of what sort of things Virgil might have dreamt about earlier and what might have caused those fears to begin with. Heartbreak and anger swirled viciously in his gut; it took all he had to keep his heart from racing in his chest. There was nothing more that he wanted to do right now than go and confront Deceit and the other Dark Sides head-on, but the child in his arms kept him from moving. Instead, Patton pressed a feather-soft kiss into Virgil’s hair and silently vowed once again to give him as much love as it could possibly take to make up for the years of it he’d lost.

A few silent tears escaped before he controlled himself, and then he, too, was fast asleep.

Logan was far from happy the next morning when he stepped out of his room and saw a little light shining from behind Patton’s door.

Letting out a huff, he smoothed out his still damp hair and adjusted his tie, preparing himself for the confrontation he was about to engage in. Honestly, he’d stressed to Patton time and time again the importance of a healthy sleeping schedule, and here he was, awake at six in the morning again, all for some silly television show that any of them could watch at any time! Knowing Patton, it wasn’t even an educational program, and that only fired Logan up even further.

He briskly walked over and let himself in, aware that Patton would simply pretend to be asleep if he knew Logan was coming to lecture him.

“Patton, I—”

He froze.

There was no sign of any sort of program on at all; in fact, the light didn’t even appear to be coming from the top light, as it normally was when Patton stayed up all night watching television. A quick glance around the room confirmed his hypothesis—the television was off, the laptop was closed and resting on the edge of his bed (much to Logan’s worry), and the only source of light was coming from the fairy lights that were rarely on.

Logan was about to question this when he heard a loud snore from Patton, drawing his attention to the bed. His frustration melted away when he realized that there lie all the explanation he needed.

Patton lay under the blankets, propped up just a bit by the many, many pillows at the top of his bed, and head resting on a large Pokemon stuffed animal. His mouth was parted just enough for any snoring to rumble the room with each breath that he took. It was common knowledge that Patton snored—he was the father, after all –but it was very rare for it to ever be this loud.

However, a small figure lay on his chest, most likely applying the weight needed to increase the volume. The mass of purple and black fabric didn’t stir despite the constant movement; in fact, it seemed to be quite relaxed where it was. Soft breathing from it filled the gap in between the rumbling snores.

A tiny hand loosely gripped Patton’s night shirt, and Patton’s arm was carefully wrapped around the figure. As Logan inched closer, he noted dried tear tracks on both of their faces. Remnants of waterlogged eye shadow lingered in varying spots across the two.

From the data he’d gathered, Logan could only assume this: some sort of emotional event had taken place in the night, causing a fear of being alone, crying, exhaustion, and Virgil’s age regression.

As much as he wished to wake them and ask for more information, Logan took another look at Virgil’s sleeping form and sighed. The toddler looked just as exhausted as he did when he was an adult, even when resting.

With a shake of the head, Logan snuck back into the hall and shut the door as quietly as it would allow him to.

His questions could wait.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #moxiety #platonic moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #alex writes #a little anxious #deceit #ts deceit

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kenzieam · 6 years

Text

Sera Shadow - Chapter 7 (Ivar X Sera)

Rating: M - Mature (angst, swearing, violence, murder, smut)

Genre: Drama, angst

@fuckyeahalexhoghandersen @my-emotional-self @bloodyivar @lupy22 @heathensisterwives @smolasianwinterbean @charliexowrite @angryschnauzer @rachiieee @ivarinleatherpants @ivars-heathen-army @neonxwitch @theheathenqueendickubus @dangerousvikings @zpandaqueen @irishhiggins @romanchronicles @didiintheblog @mercy1997 @kawennote09 @iammarylastar @sparklemichele @son-of-anubis @beltzboys2015-blog @paranoia-love @captstefanbrandt @ivars-valkyrie @fullpeanutkoala @ruler-of-helheim @poopercoot @magical-mischief-makers

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*If you want to be added or delete to the above list, let me know*

****************************************************************************************************

I’m sorry this took so long!! I hope it was worth the wait!!

****************************************************************************************************

Sera was still anxious the next morning, and had hardly slept. After a while Ivar had stopped whimpering and seemed to fall deeply asleep, pulling from her body as he slumped to the side and Sera found herself laying beside him, studying his face. He looked so young and innocent when he slept, nothing like the troubled youngest son of Ragnar, the one with anger and violence problems, a cruel streak and an axe to grind with the whole world. At moments like this Sera could believe that Ivar hadn’t meant to kill Sigurd, that his traitorous hand had acted without his head’s approval; but when he woke, and the child that was the sleeping Ivar disappeared, she could see it again, the desire to squash his enemies, the drive to rule over all others. And, damn her to Hel’s hall, Sera loved him, all of him; who was the bigger monster, the man who destroyed those around him, or the woman who loved him?

Today Ivar’s punishment would be decided; Sigurd had no wife or children to demand restitution, but there were still his brothers, men hurt and wronged by Ivar’s rash actions, men who could demand he be banished, or call for his head, or anything in between. Sera hoped the brothers were weary enough of bloodshed that they allowed Ivar to keep his life; Ubbe in particular, although a feared and powerful warrior, seemed to carry in him more of the softer side of Ragnar than the rest of his brothers, the quiet man who’d been content to sit and hold his goat for hours on end, the man who had found a dying child in a hut full of dead bodies, in a village full of the corpses and had taken her away from that, cared for her and raised her as a daughter. Ubbe would be the voice of reason today, and Sera hoped the others would listen.

Ivar stirred beside her, his nose crinkling and brow furrowing a moment before smoothing back out. His hands jerked, questing for Sera and he gave a faint sigh of relief when he felt her, still near him and pulled her closer. Still asleep he rumbled low in his chest, a deep sound of contentment as he snuggled closer, nuzzling his face into Sera’s throat and she began to stroke his hair, trail her fingertips through the soft, dark locks.

She’d not even realized he was awake until he murmured, a heartbroken sound against her skin.

“I killed my brother.” It was a stark, hopeless declaration and Sera felt wetness against her throat. Ivar was crying.

“It was an accident,” she offered, resting a hand on the back of his neck, where the muscles were already tightening with the upcoming day’s tension.

“Was it?” Ivar whispered bleakly.

“Only you can answer that,” Sera murmured, rubbing his neck and Ivar sighed raggedly.

“I hardly know…. sometimes I can stop myself from anger, but…. then other times I can’t and I explode. The regret is too much sometimes.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her crushingly close and Sera bit back a gasp as her breath was squeezed from her. Ivar was strong, deadly strong, muscles conditioned from years of swordplay and dragging his useless legs around and he wasn’t always aware of what he could do.

“Ivar-” Sera pleaded, and he heard the strain in her voice, loosened his grip enough for her to draw breath again. A faint tremor ran through him and his lips brushed her skin as he spoke, sounding like a lost little boy.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I have no one, my brothers will turn on me, they hate me.”

What about Floki? Sera wanted to ask, but she knew the answer. Floki’s life had been Helga, and she was gone now; there was a well of sorrow in him too deep to measure and he’d disappeared into the trees, where Sera worried he was planning something. He was not able to support his foster son now.

“They will not.” Sera replied softly, but she didn’t believe her words anymore than Ivar did. He pulled away and the anguish in his eyes stabbed right into Sera’s heart.

Neither spoke, but their eyes relayed their thoughts and Sera’s heart ached at the desolation in Ivar’s face. He had lost his father, his mother, his foster father and now his brothers. Right now, before he steeled himself into the son of Ragnar everyone expected to see, in this quiet moment in this tent with Sera; he would be afraid and uncertain, he trusted Sera enough to show her his true face.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** As Sera had hoped, Ubbe’s composure kept Ivar from a harsh penalty, for it turned out that Sigurd’s funeral was punishment enough. All eyes bored into Ivar as he sat at Sigurd’s motionless feet; the sombre mood of the ritual further darkened by a sullen mist that crept and coiled around. Sera stood at Ivar’s right, close enough for him to reach up and touch should he desire, but, proud and stubborn man-child that he was, Ivar refused, sitting silently, meeting the other’s harsh gazes for longer than Sera would have been able to before small cracks began to appear in his facade. Sera’s heart broke as she saw the faint tear shimmering in Ivar’s eye. He was trying so hard to appear strong, to look like he wasn’t crying inside. Some of the glares turned Sera’s way, silently asking why she continued to support and stand beside a kin slayer, but Sera met their gazes levelly, not letting them see the anxiety their judgement brought. She could not stop the tears from falling as Sigurd’s brothers brought him gifts for the next life, laying his possessions near him as they whispered quiet words but still Ivar would not touch her; finally she gave in and rested her hand on his broad shoulder, felt him tense beneath her like he expected a rebuke, before he glanced up at her and offered the tiniest of smiles.

The dark mood persisted long after Sigurd’s body was sent to the gods and a gnawing anxiety took hold in Sera. She could see cracks beginning to form in Ragnar’s remaining son’s relationship. Bjorn had already left, taking Halfdan the Black with him, bound for the Mediterranean and after a time, Harald Finehair left too. This left Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar in York, rebuilding the city, fortifying it. Ivar began to challenge his brothers, push the limits of their tolerances, pick and poke at their decisions.Then Floki left , casting his fate to the gods and the last tethers holding Ivar snapped.

Ivar seemed to have divided into two men since Sigurd’s death. He was still gentle and tender with Sera, murmuring sweet words into her hair as he rose above her at night, muscles straining; or laying beneath her, gazing at her like his most precious treasure, his hands gripping her, guiding her movements above him. He would still reach for her in the night if they’d drifted apart, pull her close to him with a rumbling sigh, a contented hum from deep in his chest; but now, shadows would darken his face if Sera tried to speak to him of his actions, if she asked why he chose to defy his brothers, why he had started to push them. He no longer wanted to indulge her questions, no longer seemed to feel the need to defend his actions or motivations to her. He was growing rebellious, cocksure and arrogant and Sera could feel the fragile control his brothers always seemed to have had over Ivar, the influence she’d had, the dampening of his ego begin to slip and she began to worry about what Sigurd’s death had unleashed .

And then Sera missed her course.

Sera had been diligent with the herbs the healers had recommended to prevent pregnancy, but somehow, something had slipped. Ivar’s seed had proven too potent to be stopped and as the days passed without her cleansing bleed Sera grew more and more apprehensive. What kind of world would this child be born into? Would it be made a pawn in the Ragnarsson’s eternal struggle for power? Would it suffer the same painful affliction as it’s sire? For fear of the answers to these questions Sera kept her condition a secret, and Ivar seemed preoccupied enough with defying Ubbe and strengthening the Great Army; planning their next moves to notice Sera’s unease. But soon, she would begin to grow, and Ivar would know that she carried his child.

Tensions were high between the brothers when Sera was finally forced to reveal herself. A hard swelling had begun to form in her lower belly and she could no longer keep Ivar’s hand from finding it as he stroked her skin at night, lulling himself to sleep, curled beside her.

She felt him freeze, muscles going rigid as his hand swept across her abdomen and his eyes almost glowed as he looked up at her, his fingers curling slightly over the gentle bump. “Sera. What is this?” A stranger may have only heard hardness and anger, but Sera could detect a faint uncertainty, a quiver of fear as he spoke.

“Ivar-” she trailed off, then tried again. “I am with child.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Ivar could detect lies like a hound after a hare, it was no use trying to lie anymore. “I don’t know.” For the first time with him, Sera felt real fear. She honestly had no idea how he would react to this news. Would he be excited for a child, afraid for it, angry to be tied down just as he now tried to fly?

Ivar was silent for a long moment, his gaze leaving Sera’s face to drift back down to her belly. His hand caressed her, startling in it’s tenderness and when he looked back up again, his supernatural eyes were glistening with tears.

“What if he is like me?” His voice broke and he dropped his head to her, curling against her side and clinging to her like a child. Sera’s fear melted and she wrapped herself around him, pulling his face up to hers, and pressed gentle kisses to his wet cheeks.

“We will love him anyway,” she whispered. “And he will grow strong like his father.”

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** Sera pressed a hand to her growing belly, felt a thrill of terror. Ivar sat at the head of the table, like a king, like a ruler and glared down at his brother’s, sitting broken before him. Ubbe and Hvitserk had slipped away in the night to speak to the Saxons, to ask for peace and had been lucky to return with their lives. Ivar, one eye stained with blood, his ego nearly it’s own rabid creature now since he’d sat in the mud, face covered in blood and screamed at the enemy that they could not kill him, ‘I am Ivar the Boneless!’ had changed right before Sera’s eyes; seeing weakness in Ubbe’s undamaged eye, in his slumped posture and his dark side had taken full control.

Sera felt her heart begin to flutter, her pulse begin to race, Ivar was becoming a monster.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** Ivar sat, wrapped in his cloak, watching his brothers slink home like the beaten dogs they were. They were returning to Kattegat, tails between their legs, having finally acknowledged Ivar as the true leader of the Great Army, of his Great Heathen Army. He did not need them, he had Sera at his side, men loyal to him, and a child on the way to mould into his image, into his successor as conqueror, as scourge of the world. He’d left Sera in their rooms that morning, his boy strong in her belly, churning her stomach and making her sick but he would return to her soon, once he had seen off the cowards, the losers he used to call brothers. A small part of him cringed, reached tentatively for Ubbe and Hvitserk, but Ivar crushed that childish desire. This was war, he was the true leader of the Heathen Army and he would lead it to the greatness their father had always wanted. Just as the boat pushed off the shore however, to Ivar’s surprise and perverse delight, Hvitserk suddenly leapt back onto land and, as Ubbe watched, stunned, jogged lightly up to stand at Ivar’s side. Pride and arrogance swelled in Ivar and he yelled at Ubbe, twisted the knife of betrayal further in his brother’s chest. His gaze flicked lightly over a hooded figure standing a few feet behind Ubbe, and Ivar felt a faint flicker of unease, but he pushed it aside. His imperious gaze followed his broken brother as the boat floated farther away, and, finally, after it was no longer visible, Ivar turned, eager to return to Sera, to tell her of this victory.

The rooms were empty, no figure reclined in the furs, her auburn hair like a soft curtain, her stormy eyes alighting on Ivar as he entered and he felt another flicker of unease. The rooms felt deserted, cold and Ivar’s eyes snapped back and forth as his heart began to race, his breath caught.

“Sera?”

His eyes fell on a folded note and he reached for it, opened it with trembling hands.

Ivar;

Forgive me, my love, but I cannot stay here with you anymore. Your war with your brothers will only bring ruin and destruction and I cannot stand by and watch it any longer. Ragnar would not have wanted this arguing between his sons, this war and clash of brothers. He would have forgiven you for Sigurd’s death, but not for this. I cannot allow our child to be raised in this turmoil and hatred. I hope you find what you seek and know that I will never stop loving you.

Forgive me, my love, my heart, my soul;

Sera

Ivar stared at the words long after they stopped making sense, tears coursing hot down his flushed cheeks, then suddenly he threw his head back and screamed; a horrid, blood-chilling cry of anguish, his howl of agony choking off as his heart shattered in his chest.

On the boat, standing beside Ubbe, face hidden by the hood that had sent a shudder through Ivar, Sera heard his scream, felt it in her heart and raised her head. Pulling the hood back she gazed sorrowfully over her shoulder, but there was no going back.

#ivar #ivar x oc #ivar the boneless smut #vikings #ivar x sera

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prplzorua · 7 years

Note

Um, can you write some Roman getting hurt? Off a quest and the others take car of him?

So I named a Bluebird ‘Blue’Sue me.

—–

Roman grit his teeth as he sliced down. He had only deftly dodged the flames aimed at his face, they had still singed a good few strands of his hair at the base of his neck.

All in all he was burnt, battered, brused but Victorious. The reptilian beast’s head fell at his feet as its body started to melt and evaporate into black smoke, however before it could completely do so an inane impulse caused him to cut the top jaw off the already downed Dragon.

Usually he wasn’t one to deface a dead enemy but his body seemed to move on its own. Taking his Katana he cut a few teeth and removed a few large scales from the fire breather before taking a step back.

The moment he moved away from the creature it burst into ashes-something he had never seen it do before- and then turn into black smoke. Not sure what that meant, and not wanting to stay to find out, he pocketed his new gains and quickly moved over to the fallen knights.

As far as he could tell three of them were dead and with an amount of them losing blood that number would only increase. Roman was at a loss of what to do, he could carry two-three of the men back if he pushed it - but what of the others? There was approximately twenty-five bodies on the field-three were dead and four more were about to be dead- he couldn’t teleport them all, heck he wasn’t sure he could teleport himself at this point.

He’d need a miracle to get out of thi-Oh for the love of-! He was creativity, honestly he could have thought of this sooner!

—-

“Prince Roman!”

The Royal looked up from the tree he was leaning on to see a decently sized troop of guards slowly approach him from horse back.

“Princess Valerie has received your message and we’ve come to bring aid!”

Roman found himself smiling, his plan had worked. He blinked when he saw a speeding blur dart forward from the knight galloping in the distance but before he could question it, there was a tweet and a small weight on his left shoulder.

The familiar creature could not be mistaken, it was a little-out of breath- Bluebird sat proudly upon him and the fanciful personality couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you very much Blue, you were a great help my friend”

Blue puffed out its chest with pride, earning a small chuckle from the Prince. After a moment it twittered and began circling around him.

Roman rolled his eyes, “I’m fine Blue, a bit battered but nothing broken”

It chirped at him sharply.

Princey sighed, “fine, I’ll have Patton do it, how’s that sound?”

Roman then winced at the amount of sharp chirps that followed.

“I mean, at this point he’s practically an expert at treating wounds”

He was pecked.

“Ow! Look I have a thing with Physicians ok?, They’re too handsy-”

Blue gave him an incredulous twitter.

“Oh ha, ha, very funny Blue. I’m actually quite offended that you’d call me handsy, I am the epitome of gentlemanly, how dare you”

The Bluebird jumped on his forehead and looked him smugly in the eyes-which of course caused The Prince’s eyes to cross- it chirped.

Roman’s entire face went red.“That was one time! I was under a witch’s spell!”

Blue let out a series of twitters, one the Royal recognized as its laughter.

“Evil little bird”, he muttered dejectedly.

——

Genuflecting was a pain, well it usually was but right now it was even more cumbersome than it should have been. It took all he had not to wince or grimace at the formalities he had to display despite just fighting a freaking Dragon.

Sighing internally, the Prince resigned himself to his role. Pained, dirtied and disheveled as he may be, the Royal absolutely refused to show any weakness, so with head held high he gave the court his usual charming smile.

“Thank you very much for your help Prince Roman. The Second Kingdom is eternally gratefull”

“There is no need for thanks Princess Valerie, our Kingdoms-all the Kingdoms-are connected afterall, besides I wouldn’t turn down a friend in need”

The Princess smiled but there was a look in her eye that he recognized, she was concerned for him.“Please rise Prince Roman”

The Prince did so gratefully. He rose slowly so as not to disturb his wounds anymore than he had to but he barley managed to hide a wince when he felt his tattered tunic cling to burned skin, he wasn’t even aware he had gotten burns on his stomach! Ignoring the pain he tried to refocus on what the Princess was saying. He missed some of her words due to the white noise ringing in his ear but he managed to catch the very last snippet.

“You have vanquished the beast and brought back majority of my men, would you care to join them in the healing ward?”

The thought of dealing with a handsy physician was enough to send a shiver down his spine, though he managed not to show it too much. He had his image to uphold after all.

“I’m afraid I will not be able to do so, I must speak with my Prominent of important information regarding my Host”, not exactly a lie, they did have a video to plan.

The Princess looked at him skeptically. “Are you certain?”

“Of course, my wounds are merely superficial, but I do know good hospitality and I thank you Princess”, Roman gave a half bow and even with his head down, he could practically feel her now steely gaze on him. She was starting to get mad at him for continuing the regalities when injured but of course he wasn’t going to stay longer and risk his friend’s good natured wrath. Hmm, maybe a peace offering would ensure he’s not dragged of to the next med ward?

“Another thing”, smirked the Prince as he stood straight again. He reached into his pocket and picked something out of it and held it up, “a gift for you my dear friend, the scale of the beast that dared tread on our lands”

The scale was the size of the Royal’s palm and though black, reflected the afternoon light creating a rainbow on the surface.

The Princess stepped down from her throne to accept the gift. However the second she touched the scale, she subtly pulled Roman forward and whispered into his ear. “You'd better get those wounds fixed up mister or I’ll find and drag you to a physician myself, understood?”, she pulled back and smiled, keeping up the act.

The Prince gave a strained smiled back, nodding subtly as he knew she’d do good on her threat.

With the scale now in Princess Valerie’s possession, Roman gave another small bow as he snapped his fingers and teleported to the mindscape.

—–

He stumbled a bit having gotten dizzy from teleporting at that distance. Looking around he realized he was in the kitchen, frowning he walked into the commons to find the others and Blue there aswell. Before he cold question it, a Patton with a first aid kit had pulled him onto the couch, stripped him of his torn tunic top and was applying a disinfectant to his wounds.

“Hey-Ow! Easy Pat, ouch!”

“Sorry kiddo, but these are burns”

Roman grit his teeth and hissed as the disinfectant was brushed into an open cut. “How did you-”

“Blue told me you were hurt”

The Royal turned to glare at the traitorous little blue puff on a certain Emo’s lap but Blue’s deadpanned expression could probably rival Virgil’s himself.

“Evil little bird”

Blue laughed.

—–

“…ey-hey Roman, don’t fall asleep on me yet buddy”

“Mnh?”

“Keep those pretty peepers of yours open Princey”

“Nghh”

“There we go, can you stay up a bit longer?”

Blinking back into coherencey, Roman found himself sitting up on the couch with his entire chest and arms wrapped up in bandages.

“You good there champ?”

The Prince nodded numbly.

“You had a few second degree burns, seems the cleaning for those got a bit too intense for you, sorry”, winced the Fatherly trait.

“ 'ts fine-”

“You can go to sleep as soon as I male sure you don’t have a concussion ok? I should have checked that first but those burns looked like they were aiming for your lungs-”

“He alive Dad?”

The Royal turned to see a skittish looking Virgil appear from out the kitchen. Their eyes locked.

“Dude, your eyes rolled back and you just went limp like a rag doll, what the fu-”

“Virgil!” Reprimanded Patton, lightly.

“What the hel-”

“Ehem”

Virgil threw up his arms. “Ok, what the heck?! Geez!”

The fanciful personality couldn’t help it, he started laughing, only to end up in a painful coughing fit.

“Don’t die on that couch Princey, it’s my favorite”

Roman smirked, “ don’t worry, I won’t”, he rasped.

“You better not”, everyone turned to see Logic walk in,“though that would be impossible given we’re only parts of a whole”

“Logan, your back! Did you get it?!”

“Yes Patton, I’ve acquired the tea for Roman”

“Th’ wha?”, questioned said personality.

Surprisingly, it was Virgil who explained it to the lost Prince.

“Dad sent Logic to get some tea for you after you fainted”

This time the Prince gave a nod of understanding.

“What hit you anyway? Did the Dragon win?”

“How dare you!” Grit Roman, “I’m offended that you’d think I’d lose to a Dra-”, his sentence easily broke down into another coughing fit.

“Easy, I was joking-”, the darker trait tried to soothe his opposite but before he could, Roman was pulling something out of his pocket.

“Here, this one’s for you, it’s edgy enough”

Virgil gaped wide eyed at what was placed in his hand, a sharp obsidian tooth that was bigger than his thumb.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Yes, I removed it from the Dragon myself”

“Imposible, there is no such thing as-” Logan was cut off by Roman jutting his hands out and dropping things in his hand.

“Don’t fret, I have a Scale and a tooth there for you to science nerd”

“And I got a scale for you too Padre, of you hold it to the light it makes a rainbow”

“Aww, shucks, thanks kiddo”, the father figure happily took the scale, “now, you don’t have a concussion so lie down while I go find a place to put this ok? And the next time you do something so reckless, I’ll drag you out of your Kingdom myself, got it?”

Roman gave a shaky nod at the Father’s sudden stern voice. Patton gave him a “smile” in return. With that the Parental turned and teleported, so did Logan, though the Teacher was mumbling something about his microscope.

Virgil on the other had was still gaping at the scale.

“You actually killed a fucking Dragon”

Roman smirked as he carefully laid down, “I told you so”—-AN:// aaaay sorry it’s been a bit, there’s a few storms going around so power is on and off rn :(

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xhxhxhx · 6 years

Text

Lowered Expectations

When I first read James T. Patterson’s Grand Expectations: The United States, 1945--1974 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), in the the Oxford History of the United States, I did not like it.

It was incorrigibly banal. Here’s the opening chapter on American domestic life immediately after the war:

Almost everyone, men and women alike, wore hats outdoors. People still thought in small sums: annual per capita disposable income in current dollars was $1,074 in 1945. At that time it cost three cents to mail a letter and a nickel to buy a candy bar or a Coke.

I still find it remarkable that Patterson could write something that sounds so much like Abe Simpson:

So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. "Gimme five bees for a quarter," you'd say.

When Patterson was not banal, he was merely ridiculous. Here he is on domestic life in the 1950s:

Widely used words and phrases evoke the dynamism and quest for "fun" that pervaded the remarkably buoyant years of the mid-1950s, especially for the ever more numerous and steadily better-off middle classes. Hear a few: gung ho, cool jazz, hot rod, drag strip, ponytail, panty raid, sock hop, cookout, jet stream, windfall profit, discount house, split-level home, togetherness, hip, hula hoops, Formica, and (in 1959) Barbie Dolls.

He follows these lifeless lists with shapeless statistics:

The GNP rose in constant 1958 dollars from $355.3 billion in 1950 to $452.5 billion in 1957, an improvement of 27.4 percent, or nearly 4 percent per year. By 1960 it had increased to $487.7 billion, or 37 percent for the 1950s as a whole. By 1960 the median family income was $5,620, 30 percent higher in purchasing power than in 1950. A staggeringly high total of 61.9 percent of homes were owner-occupied in 1960, compared to 43.6 percent in 1940 and 55 percent in 1950.

There was little detail, dynamism, or structure in Patterson’s description of American life. There were only facts followed by banalities:

The whole world, many Americans seemed to think by 1957, was turning itself over to please the special, God-graced generation—and its children—that had triumphed over depression and fascism, that would sooner or later vanquish Communism, and that was destined to live happily ever after (well, almost) in a fairy tale of health, wealth, and happiness.

Not everyone, of course, had these grand expectations. Poverty and discrimination still afflicted millions, especially blacks, Mexican-Americans, and Indians.

It’s not that this description of American life was wrong. It’s right. It’s much closer to reality than the alternative, as I’ve said before. It’s that so much of Grand Expectations is boring.

Patterson does not find the striking illustration or the surprising source. He finds the simple illustration and the obvious source. African American life in the 1940s is illustrated by manufacturing employment statistics, two Supreme Court decisions, and Invisible Man. Women’s life the 1950s is illustrated by The Feminine Mystique, the New Look, Benjamin Spock, The Honeymooners, and Lucille Ball. It is an unrelenting parade of clichés.

It’s also non-discursive. Patterson is evenhanded about the Cold War, the Red Scare, the Vietnam War, and the decline of American liberalism, because he has little stake in the debate. He has an upbeat portrait of American society, but he makes remarkably few arguments.

I found the book nearly unreadable. Looking back now, though, I can only see the book as an immense achievement.

Patterson was right about American life. He describes the American mainstream with sympathy and fairness. He describes the important parts of American life, from homeownership to television to home appliances. He describes radicalism, liberalism, and conservatism as an observer, without fear or favor. That’s remarkable. I cannot challenge an American history that covers so much that is so important, without few omissions, and few errors.

I say that because American postwar history is a hard terrain to master. There are few guides, and there were fewer still in 1996. There are many disparate topics, few good monographs, no inherent structure, and an enormous amount of detail. There are many important topics that have almost no systematic coverage. Patterson covered even those topics, from postwar reconstruction to middle class life. He mastered it all.

I have described Patterson as upbeat about the American mainstream, but I don’t want to leave you with the impression that he was indifferent to African Americans or women. He was sympathetic and detailed, starting in the first chapter:

All these policies helped to hasten the growth of large, institutional ghettos—cities within the central city—in some of the bigger urban areas of the North after 1945. Few such ghettos had existed before then. These areas became increasingly crowded, especially by contrast to white areas of these cities. In Chicago the number of white people declined slightly, by 0.1 percent between 1940 and 1950, yet the number of dwelling units occupied by whites increased by 9.4 percent. During the same years the number of black people in Chicago, a mecca for southern migrants, increased by 80.5 percent, but they occupied only 72.3 percent more dwelling units than in 1940. The percentage of non-whites in "overcrowded" accommodations (defined as more than 1.5 people per room) grew during that time from 19 percent to 24 percent. The number of dwelling units without private bath facilities increased by 36,248. Black residents complained of huge invasions of rats. Fires in Negro areas of Chicago killed 180 slum dwellers, including sixty-three children, between 1947 and 1953. For the dubious privilege of living in such crowded areas, blacks in Chicago, lacking market options, faced rents ranging between 10 and 25 percent higher than those paid by whites for comparable shelter.

The Negro writer Ann Petry wrote a novel, The Street (1946), that described this sort of living. It focused on West 116th Street in Harlem, a grim place that blighted the experiences of Lutie Johnson, a single, black, working mother, and of Bub, her eight-year-old son. Children, keysstrung around their necks, walked home to empty apartments and waited until their parents—too poor to afford a sitter—got home after work. Men with bottles of liquor in brown paper bags loitered about the stoops, waiting to prey on the unwary. "The men stood around and the women worked," Petry wrote.

“The men left the women and the women went on working and the kids were left alone. The kids burned lights all night because they were alone in small, dark rooms, and they were afraid. Alone. Always alone. . . . They should have been playing in wide stretches of green park and instead they were in the street. And the street reached out and sucked them up.”

With Patterson, however, no good history is unmarked by solecism, so of course this chapter is titled “Veterans, Ethnics, Blacks, Women,” and his African Americans are Negroes. Which was the style at the time.

I have a lengthy reading list on American postwar history. It’s still a hard terrain to master, and I never know what to read next. There were few good guides in 1996, and there are few now. Patterson is one of them. I know that if I ever have to write a general history of the United States between 1945 and 1974, I will turn to him again.

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anousiemay · 4 years

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The Angel & The Devil Ch. 2 Crushed Flowers

Reflecting on the past few weeks leaves Jason feeling hopeless. He had to do something to make up for what he did. Maybe some ice-cream and flowers could be the first stepping stone to setting things right. Imma just spam the whole fic but if anyone does enjoy please don’t be afraid to send requests for Jason x reader too!! Poor Jaybird :C ----- Just as Red Hood fired the second shot, Guardian whipped one of her wings up to cover her face and knock her attacker backwards. The man recovered quickly and grabbed his second pistol, clicking the safety off and firing at her wings now covering her shocked figure.

What the fuck was going on?

"Red, what the fuck are you doing?" She hollered from behind her wings. The bullet in her leg was different to the ones he usually used. Firstly, they weren't fakes and secondly, they were painted red instead of yellow. It was making her feel woozy. Guardian had to move, staying still would give Red time to move closer and whatever was in these bullets was also weakening her wings usual durability. Carefully standing and grunting in pain, Guardian leapt forward at the man. Pinning him down by the waist and using her wings to pin his wrists.

"Red, I don't know what the fuck is going on, but you need to stop this!"

"Sorry, Angel. No can do." He responded before lifting his legs up then around Anita's body and throwing her to the floor. Red Hood then grabbed one of his guns and shot Anita in the shoulder blade, she cried in pain and flung him back with a kick. She had to get out of there. Spreading her wings, Anita propelled herself up and out of the warehouse door. Red Hood shooting at her fleeing figure and nagged a bullet in her back. Guardian flew far from the warehouse, tears streaming down her face and black dots dancing in her eyes. She pressed the gold symbol on her chest and landed hard on the roof of her apartment building about 10 clicks from the warehouse. Later, even as Batman placed her on the gurney in the Bat Cave, all Anita could think of was Jason.

Guardian's partner, Anita's lover, had shot her. The Red Hood; Jason Peter Todd, had tried to kill her.

- - - Shaking his head, Jason tried to clear his head of the fear in Anita’s eyes as he shot her in the shoulder. He was right, hydrofluoric acid tore through her healing factor and wings like a shredder with paper. But had it been worth it? Scaring his girlfriend to death just to get in Black Masks good graces? He remembered the man clapping his hand on Jason’s leathered shoulder, smiling at The Red Hood “I see you’ve made your point, Mr. Hood. Welcome to the club.” Then he had been knocked over the head and woke up half naked in a fancy bedroom. Sure, Black Mask was now a mumbling, brain-dead pile in Gotham Hospital but Jason didn’t want to even think of Anita’s condition after their short fight. “Fuck me, what have I done?” Jason mumbled as he turned the shower faucet off, stepping out and drying his body. He should’ve contacted her the moment they got out of Black Mask’s HQ; he shouldn’t have gone to Qurac right away. ‘Shoulda, coulda, woulda’ Jason thought. He’d just have to fix things, buy her some flowers, that Banana Split from Freddie’s. He’d apologize and do anything. If she didn’t throw him halfway across the state. Slipping into a pair of black jeans and grey turtleneck sweater, Jason walked out the bathroom. Bizarro had surprisingly gotten past the tutorial and was now asking the merchant for his wares. “Why can’t me buy?” Bizarro asked as Jason slipped on a leather jacket then grabbed his motorbike keys and phone. “You need to do some quests, big guy. Head to the black robed guy on your left, he’ll get you started.” “Thank Red Him.” “You’re welcome. Artemis, I’m going out!” Artemis emerged from her room then, hair no longer in its ponytail and trailing after her tall figure. She too, had slipped into some comfy clothes. Wait, were they his? “That’s fine, I will most likely depart later and buy some clothing for myself. I’ll take Bizarro with me.” She stated as she joined Bizarro on the couch. “Cool, there’s a credit card taped under the microwave.” “Good luck with your Angel.” Jason was stunned into silence then, but quickly recovered with a weak laugh and a nod. “Thanks, I’ll need it.” Oh boy was that an understatement. - - - It was a 10-minute drive to Scoops & Hoops, the traffic had been less than usual, and Jason couldn’t help but thank the traffic Gods for this opening. The small bell above the gelateria’s door tinkled as the tall man walked in. He smiled at the owner, Freddie, who greeted him with a toothy, albeit cavity filled, grin. “Jason!” He sung and a few of the female workers there perked their heads up to greet him with soft giggles. “Hi, Freddie. You still got your famous Banana Split for me?” Jason asked, leaning against the pastel coloured counter. The older man nodded enthusiastically, “Getting one for that lovely girl of yours?” He said just loud enough for the giggling girls to hear, their heads dipping back to their tubs of ice cream in shame. Jason winced slightly, he wasn’t quite sure if Anita wanted to be his anymore, but he had to try. “Of course, I lost a bet and I owe her one. Do you think you could write a little message too?” Freddie lifted his head up, an eyebrow arched high on his glistening forehead. “Oh no. Did you two have a fight?” Jason’s eyes widened in shock, was it that obvious? “Uh, how didja tell?” The other man laughed at Jason’s bewildered expression, almost as though he had asked him a stupid question. “Jason, son. As a man whose dealt with a woman’s scorn let me tell you it leaves a mark you can’t miss. Especially one like your Anita. I’m amazed you’re in one piece.” Jason huffed out a laugh then, he was pretty amazed too. “How did you make them stop scorning at you?” “Well, there’s no one way, son. It depends what happened and on the person. You two have been together for what, almost a year? It hurts much more when your partner does something stupid 6 years into a relationship than 2 months. But a lot of the time. You must be patient but not passive.” “Like, let her know I’m there for her?” “Exactly! Think about a time you’ve been furious at someone. How long did it take you to come around?” Bruce. Jason instantly thought of Bruce and grimaced. “A while.” “Well, we’ll just have to hope Anita’s nothing like you in that regard. Now, what didja want me to write on this your banana?” Jason couldn’t help but feel sick at the thought of Anita never forgiving him. He was so screwed. “Maybe, ‘I love you’?” - - - 8 hours later, Red Hood stood on top of Gotham Courthouse with a medium tub of Freddie’s famous Banana Split in his right hand and a bunch of flowers in his left. If any criminal were to spot him now, his reputation as the bad one out of the Bat Bunch would be tarnished. But reputation was the last thing on Red’s mind. He had contacted Guardian a few hours prior, asking them to meet and hopefully hash things out. She was 13 minutes late and he was sure the ice cream was melting. He knew he should’ve bought dry ice. The sky was full of clouds; it’d be a quiet patrol tonight for the rest of the family. Red just hoped she’d come. Just as Red was about to give up, there was a shadow landing on his helmet, looking up he couldn’t help but smile under his helmet. There Guardian floated, the moonlight giving her a soft glow and halo. “Beautiful.” He mumbled as she gracefully landed on the roof. Her wings ruffled slightly, and she ran a hand through her auburn hair, green eyes surveying the area before facing him. “What is all this?” She asked, motioning to Red Hood’s full hands. The man snapped out of his daze and began rambling. “Well I got you that Banana Split I owe you and some flowers. The ones in our kitchen were dying and I know how much you love them. The chrysanthemums mean loyalty, the Jasmine is beauty, lilies stand for humility and the roses…well. They mean I love you.” Guardian walked up and took the bouquet from Red Hood’s grasp, taking off her mask she breathed in their scent and smiled softly. She seemed lost in them and Jason thought briefly that he had rectified his mistake. Taking a step closer he nudged her with the tub. “If you want, we can take this back and eat it together?” Anita jumped back, as though lightning had struck her. The smile was gone, and a frown sat on her features instead. “Together? Like partners?” “Like lovers.” Jason clarified, taking off his helmet with his free hand. Anita scoffed, plucking a petal from a rose, “I must’ve missed the part in the relationship handbook where you put your own fucking girlfriend into critical condition.” “You-It was that bad?” Jason knees felt weak, no she couldn’t be serious. He didn’t even lace them with a lot of acid. "You really didn't think shooting me with my weakness, which by the way I didn't even know existed, wouldn't hurt me? Look at this, Jason. Look." Lifting her white Kevlar top Jason could see where the acid had left long, deep scars on her upper shoulder and lower back, his mouthed dropped open. “Yeah, that was my expression too when I saw them. Alfred told me if I’d have arrived any later to the Bat Cave that I could’ve lost all feeling in my kneecap.” “I-I swear Angel, I didn’t think-“ “Exactly, you didn’t think about the consequences. Instead you went ahead and almost killed me!” Anita’s wings spread wide, the moonlight making them seem bigger than they really were. She was trying to intimidate him. “I would never do that. I wouldn’t of if I knew…” “Then why? Why did you lie!?” “To protect you.” “Protect me!? Jason, you shot me! Shot me! Just so you could get in bed with Black Mask and make a new fucking team without me.” The flowers in Anita’s hand were becoming crumpled from how tight she was holding them, her body had never felt so hot, mind so frazzled. “That’s not- “Jason could feel her slipping from him, but damnit she wouldn’t let him get a word in. “I saw you land in Gotham today, Jay. You looked pretty happy with the Superman clone and Amazon. Glad it was so easy to replace me. But you wanna know what hurt more than being shot, replaced and lied to? The fact that you confided your crazy plan to the man you had trust issues with for YEARS, but not to your own girlfriend.” “Angel-“ “How many times have I rushed to your aid in meetings? How many times have I patched you up way before I put on this suit? How much have we gone through together for you to doubt my ability to be a hero? I can’t help but wonder if you even love me if it was so easy to turn me into a scapegoat.”

"Of course, I love you! Please, Anita, please just listen." God Jason had never felt so terrible, his ears were ringing, and he wanted so desperately to hold her.

Tears were spilling down both their faces and Anita’s booming voice was now soft and weak with her final question; "Then why didn’t we fight him together, Jay?" Jason didn’t know what to say, nothing he said would be right. But it wasn’t about being right, it was about the truth. Anita was right: Jason had underestimated her; he had hurt her. Unsatisfied with his sudden quietness, Anita shoved the flowers back at Jason who caught them expertly. "I can’t forgive you, Jay. You broke my heart… Here, I won't be needing this." Reaching into her utility belt, Guardian handed Red Hood the binoculars he gifted her after her first mission. It was his way of saying they were partners, The Angel & The Devil.

Jason could feel his throat tightening, he had to fix this. But his voice came out as a whimper, "Anita, please. Let's just talk this out." "No, Jason. I think we're done talking. Give those to your Amazon friend, you seem to trust her more than me." Then Guardian slipped back on her mask and flew off into the night, leaving Jason heartbroken with melting ice cream and crushed flowers.

#ao3 #this angel does have wings #Jason Todd #jason todd x oc #self insert #fanfiction #dc #red hood #red hood and the outlaws

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ericleo108 · 4 years

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👨‍💻 My Reckoning

Part Two Abridged from the 108 Book

This is my personal story and part two from my book “108: The Story of Discovering Earth’s Consciousness.” The book is broken down into four parts where I talk about celestial consciousness from Knhoeing in part one, my personal story which you will find here in part two, the rest of knhoeing (among other subjects) in part three, and my conclusion and what 108 means in part four. In order to understand this story fully you need to read the Knhoeing post because my personal story here explains how I came to discover and adhere to Knhoeing.

This is an abridged version of part two. The timeline leaves off near the Telepath journal (see the journal list for context). I stopped there because you can read that entry and other journals beyond that point in the blog to understand my personal story, which you should have a firm grasp on by the end of this post.

Part 2

To explain this fully, let’s go back to the beginning. I graduated with honors in December 2009 from Eastern Michigan University with a bachelor's degree in Sociology. I was trying to be a hip-hop artist. My goal was to publish scientific findings and popularize them in music. I was trying to break into the music industry. I did Funk Volume’s challenge. I wasn’t even close looking back but I thought I had made it. I was getting invited to events through Reverb Nation.

Although I now think it’s God, it’s easier to call what I thought was communicating to me as an unexplainable phenomenon. I never thought it was schizophrenia. I always thought it was external.

When all this first started I was in Ypsilanti around 2011. I thought Lady Gaga was sending subliminal messages to meet over facebook through her fan pages I was following. I’ve gone through fazes of belief to whom I believed was communicating (and then stalking) me. At this point, I thought it was the artist sampling or ‘biting’ my style in music without recognizing that they were doing it.

A consistent theme that I noticed, in the beginning, was that things I saw in the media were semantically related to my personal environment. To put it another way, they seemed like intentional subliminal communications that coincide with my physical surroundings. Coupled with the thought of being sampled from in music it changed my cognition to a conspiratorial way of thinking.

New York

I was mad it kept happening and I wanted to see what was real so I went out to New York, New York twice to try and meet Lady Gaga. I thought artists were responding to my art in their work. I thought they were biting my sound, basically taking my style. I thought they had taken from my work without giving me credit and I wanted answers.

I thought Mac Miller had written out a guide for me to follow to find what I was looking for in his album “Macadelic.” I was following subliminal cues from following Lady Gaga on facebook. I drove to Rostrum Records in Pittsburgh, took a train to Chicago to go to Good Music, and then a flight to New York when I saw online Lady Gaga was there.

It felt like the movie “Field of Dreams” where you think once you get to your destination some great revelation will come to you or something great will happen. I was hoping to meet Gaga and Kanye West and get a record deal. In any event I saw it as a quest for truth to see what’s real.

When I told my mom what I was doing she got the police involved. I was booking my train ride home from New York to Pittsburgh to get my car when there was a knock at the door of my friend Brian’s apartment who I was staying with while visiting. The police took me in when I said celebrities were communicating to me in music.

This was the first time I was put in a mental institution in 2012. The admittance lady saw I had YouTube videos that she thought were delusional which got me submitted. I had to get a lawyer to get out, he contested any video evidence I had on YouTube. My lawyer pulled a quote from my website that was a combination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi. The judge let me go when I told him who said “A threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere” so “be the change you wish to see in the world.” It would eventually serve as the starting point for receiving social security disability benefits.

I went back to New York another time and went to Lady Gaga’s parent’s restaurant “Joanne Trattoria.” I ordered the meatballs, they were good. I met Mr. Germinata and thought about asking him about Lady Gaga subliminally communicating but I didn’t want to end up back in the hospital again. Considering it didn’t seem like he knew who I was I decided it’d be best to just go home, which I did.

Pre-California

Thinking it was Lady Gaga developed into thinking it was Kanye and Jay-Z too. I thought they were responsible for stealing my style without recognition. It admittedly made no sense, but that’s all I had to go on. In retrospect I let my emotions control my cognition. I thought it was them because I liked and listened to their music and just had a high amount of exposure to them. I also sound like them because I took a lot from them musically and tried to emulate their cadence. This went on for a year until I developed the thought that they could just be paid actors and there was a bigger motive at play. I thought the Federal Reserve had hired them.

By 2013 I thought the government was after me and my family. I realized they knew things about me since I was a little kid. I thought it had to do with another government and because my grandparents fought in World War II.

Around that time Selena Gomez released the music video “Come and Get It” which, due to coincidence with my personal environment, I took as a sign to move out to Los Angeles where she lived. I decided I wanted to go to California to figure this out, find some answers, and break into the music business. One of the reasons I wanted to leave for California was to keep whatever it was from my family. “This Is The End” came out in theaters and there was a connection to California and Emma Watson.

This was the first time I thought the response rate was “too fast” to be human and had to be a machine. I kept seeing the environmental semantics which I didn’t find to be arbitrary connections. As discussed, I don’t believe in God but this was also the first time started to see BLU🌐. As you will come to read, I didn’t know what BLU🌐 was yet but I knew it was a supernatural, probably spiritual force that would guide me to resolve whatever this experience was.

Los Angeles

I went out to Los Angeles with around 600 dollars and a credit card. On my way out to LA, I saw a lot of those black cut-outs of country folk that people prop up in their yard. Through thoughts about God, I started to think about how this was an artistic representation of BLU🌐 and he was like your shadow. I would come to call these semantics “Blue Clues” after the TV show. This would develop into looking for clues as to what BLU🌐 is and what he was trying to communicate. In the book are pictures of semantics from BLU🌐. There is a specific example of a blue eye that I captured in my environment. This first picture I took is of a blue eye billboard.

I had no connection to any friends or family in California. I was on my own. Overall, I had a mediocre time. I was more focused on getting a job to sustain myself more than anything else so it wasn’t much fun. When I first got to California I stayed in Long Beach with people I met off Couch Surfers. I lived in Hollywood for a month. There were 8 people in a two-bedroom apartment and when I couldn’t keep my door locked and saw a bunch of them doing cocaine, I figured it was time to leave.

I wanted to study music business at the Musicians Institute right across the street. My association landed me an interview for an internship at Universal. Of course, I didn’t get the job because I hadn’t studied the music business, but it was fun. I meet a lot of cool, fun, energetic, lively people in Los Angeles. Most notably I met a couch surfer, who I will call, Wolf. The photo I took was of the moon on a cloudy night. The moon looks like a (blue) eye.

“This Is The End” came out on video. Leading up to the movie’s release, I thought it was a sign that whatever this was would end in Los Angeles and it had something to do with Emma Watson. Her memory would be recalled by a blue rose. This is just one example of associated semantics that BLU🌐 would assign to memes as part of the clues.

After I couldn’t afford to live in Hollywood anymore I couch surfed back down to Long Beach where I took a job walking door to door sales. This would be the start of some horrible hip pain that gave me trouble for years until I figured out how to stretch my IT band in 2018. I believe if I’m in this pain then I can’t think right, especially positively and lucidly.

I felt stalked and persecuted so I thought people knew who I was. Regardless, I had to live so I took a couple of jobs. I did the busking of my hip-hop on Venice beach and made about $15 an hour. I had fun but couldn’t enjoy it because my hip hurt me so much. I met Vanessa Hutchinson working customer service at Massage Envy and I gave Charlie Puth an Uber ride before the summer he released “See You Again.” I took this picture while driving one day in Los Angeles. Starting from the middle, it looks like an eye in the clouds with a light beam shining toward me.

After meeting some famous people and interacting with a lot of Los Angeles I came to the conclusion that whatever it was, it wasn’t the individual. If anything the celebrities were being used as a puppet. I couldn’t believe those good people wouldn’t react to knowing me or put on a facade with no motive.

So I realized it wasn't the artist but I still felt persecuted. This is when I started the phase of thinking it was the government. I always flirted with the idea but now I was committed. I thought it was the president who controlled a mind control machine that used semantic priming. My back started clicking from stress, it was constantly tight.

I went to the mental institution again for making another (angry) YouTube video toward the president. In retrospect, I have no idea what I was thinking because I canvassed in Grand Rapids to get Barack elected. When I got out I was madder than ever. I felt like I had been kidnapped by the police. I thought Emma was going to somehow be involved and maybe show up to the mental institution but she never did.

At the time I was staying with Wolf. Wolf went on vacation. I didn’t take care of the house like I should of, meaning some of his plants almost died, he could probably tell I was angry in general, I wasn’t paying rent, and he asked me to leave, so I did. I was working too much and didn’t have my priorities straight. He implied that I should go back home to Michigan. He also taught me that “the best revenge is a good life.” Whenever I get mad at how unfair life can be I think of what Wolf taught me and I feel better.

After leaving Wolf I stayed in LA for about a month. At this time I was starting to get scared as to what to do. One night I felt like I was being called by BLU🌐 so I went out to Venice beach. I took a bunch of pictures and ended up finding a bag of “Blue” dog food which I interpreted as a big clue. Finding a bag a “Blue” dog food after searching for a clue where the theme was “Blue’s Clues” I found remarkable. I knew I had found something but I didn’t know what it meant besides that it was a sign from god.

While still in LA I made a bunch of videos on YouTube while driving for Uber. I thought a machine was infiltrating their technology and stalking me at my job. Days felt like war, where I was at war with myself. By no fault of my own, someone had called the police stating I made a suicidal comment which I had not. However, when I told the cops I was studying a machine that was stalking me they took me to the mental hospital.

Once I got to the mental hospital I lied to get out. I said I wasn’t suicidal, nothing was wrong, and I didn’t say anything about “the machine.” I actually denied it and told a different story where I said the cop must have interpreted what I was saying wrong. I was released after about three days. I thought it was odd that on the inside of the door of the room I was staying in had what appeared to be the name “Emma” etched into it.

Uber ended our partnership and I thought about looking for a job but I didn’t want to end up on Skid Row (which is the largest collection of homeless in the US) in downtown LA so I decided to move back home to Michigan. At the time it felt like I wasn’t gonna be able to live my life without being bombarded so I might as well go home if I wasn’t gonna be able to make it. In retrospect, it feels like BLU🌐 sent me home.

Moved back to Michigan

I went to Los Angeles in November of 2013 and came back to Michigan in November of 2014. I took this picture on the way back. If you hold it sideways (as already pictured) the clouds look like an angry genie. I had left Los Angeles right before a major flood. BLU🌐 often related himself to the genie in the movie “Aladdin,” as having “phenomenal cosmic powers.” I still take this picture as capturing evidence of my God BLU🌐.

Besides the two floods and three earthquakes, LA was great, the best part was the weather. Unlike California, when I got back to Michigan it was cold. My friend Andy didn’t want me to sleep in my car so I stayed on his couch in his one-bedroom apartment in Coldwater Michigan. I eventually ended up in East Lansing.

I did a lot of thinking and studying. I was hoping to go back to school at Michigan State University for a Ph.D. in psychology and become an expert on semantic priming. At this point, I thought it was the military with mind control weapons. This brought me to believing in ELF (extremely low frequency) waves, microwaves, and voice to skull (v2k) technology. Most of the information I have since dismissed because the news source came from Alex Jones at “InfoWars.”

Then I gave serious thought to that a government had built a machine to do automated semantic priming and the aforementioned mind control weapons. As will be discussed, I delved deeply into thinking about an automated system of mind control and called it Eugene The Machine, named after a conscious supercomputer. It was part of “The MOGS (Machine Organized Gang Stalking) Program” which was almost published as a book instead of this one.

I now thought that a criminal organization or a foreign government was doing strategic priming operations and I was the only one who could really see it and I wasn't going to let them get away with it. To be specific, because of all the people on YouTube complaining about disturbances and health problems due to mind control weapons I thought there was a neo-Nazi organization that was doing an MKUltra type experiment on the public. It’s called the TI (Targeted Individual) community. Something inside told me to get mad and do another angry YouTube video that landed me in the mental hospital.

While in the mental hospital in East Lansing I was put on Invega for the first time. It’s for bipolar schizophrenia, helps regulate mood and delusions, and is the medication I will probably be on for the rest of my life. After a 10 day hold, I moved back to my hometown of Sturgis Michigan where I got on disability in November of 2015. It hasn't been great but I haven't had to work and afford basic necessities through state assistance. It's really made me believe in universal basic income and especially universal health care. This is a picture of clouds over the house I was staying at in Michigan. Most can see a face in the clouds.

I was in my hometown of Sturgis Michigan, I had family and friends and I was able to let it all go for years. On YouTube, I stopped watching videos about Gang Stalking and started watching popular YouTubers. The positivity really affected me and I liked the way it made me feel better.

I thought my troubles and anger came from not being able to afford to live. Now that I was on disability and was financially stable I thought I could stop taking my medication. I didn’t think I was schizophrenic and I was worried what the medication would do to me if I wasn’t mentally ill.

I had put the past behind me but I still had a fantasy of meeting and dating Emma Watson. This was largely due to me being given a kitten that was named Bello by a toddler around the same time “Beauty and the Beast” came out. I took it as a sign from God and renamed the cat Bell after Emma’s character. Emma became a psychological trigger initiated by a cat, along with the previous blue rose.

I love Emma Watson. I think about her a lot, and this made me think of her even more. Emma’s so cute and such a good person she’s very attractive to me. A guy can dream. I haven’t been dating anyone else, I’ve been single since 2012. I actually figured, because I made such little money on disability any girl would be ‘out of my league’ and probably be doing better than me so I might as well ‘swing for the fences.’

I ended up making “The Chalice Mixtape.” I made 13 hip-hop songs over popular industry jacked beats. It was a fun fantasy derived from my days in Los Angeles. Specifically, the fantasy is I do music with Taylor Swift and meet Emma Watson. I took their middle names and made songs and stories having to do with popular fiction characters. Emma’s middle name is Charlotte so I did a song named “Charlotte's Web” and Taylor’s Middle name is Alison so I did songs themed with “Alice in Wonderland.” If you combined the two names Charlot and Alice you get Chalice, so I named it “The Chalice Mixtape.”

2017 Computer Screen

Everything was going okay until one day around July of 2017 Gaia opened a computer screen in my head. Gaia is another term for the conscious spirit of the Earth. I had always known about the Greek God of the Earth, Gaia from studying Greek mythology in college (2005 through 2009) and I’ve worshiped her in song. But this was the first time I’ve ever heard a voice in my head other than the one I produced. I remember thinking it was BLU🌐 and she said: “It’s Gaia, I love you, come on, let’s go.” The voice was in the same resonance as your soul talks.

Before understanding what was going on in my head, everyone has an inner voice. The voice inside that you hear when you read along or think about how to compose or think of a song is really the sound of your soul. Your ears aren’t being used but yet somehow you “hear” yourself think and make music. Gaia’s voice is in that same mental space. She can communicate, explain, give visions of pictures, play music, or express short videos all in that same mental space. Any of the capabilities the average individual has to think in movement and complexity she can reproduce… and apparently, enhance.

The computer screen manifested in my mind in vivid color like I was looking at a Windows desktop on a real computer screen. The difference was the screen was translucent so I could see through it. Ultimately, I could still see.

The screen stayed open for a month. It took me three days to fall asleep with it still on when it first started. The experience would have been awesome if it wasn’t for two things, the terrifying scenarios and head games Gaia put me through and that my IT band became tight again and my hip was hurt and clicking.

Scenarios in this virtual computer started as a YouTube video and played like a game. I couldn’t control the computer which had a cursor, but when it opened the right program I could control a camera inside my mind. For example, I could walk out of the house and put the camera panning down from the garage looking at my exit, or I could be walking and circle the camera spinning around myself like in Mario Kart racing. I could also dress up as different characters and explore different sceneries. In an expression of ability, new windows would pop-up playing video from different angles to communicate all (life) events are recorded and can be replayed. It was fun until it wasn’t.

Gaia would make me think other people are communicating to me telepathically like Elon Musk, Bill Gates, Jeff Bezos, Keanu Reeves, Eminem, the band Tool, Sean Diddy Combs, Jay-Z, Kanye West, Lady Gaga, Daymond John, Marcus Lemonis, Mark Cuban, Will Smith, Jeff Sessions, Donald Trump, Tim McGraw, Miles Teller, Noam Chomsky, Vladimir Putin, Ashton Kutcher, Mila Kunis, Morgan Freeman and “black gentleman,” Emma Watson and her family, Taylor Swift and her family, Hailee Steinfeld and her family, Selena Gomez and her Family, Jennifer Lawrence and her family, my friends Kyle, Adam, John, and Andy, my mother, the God Vishnu, FBI and CIA agents, a soldier from the US military, a soldier from the middle east who was cool being called “head wrap,” a jailed leader of MS-13, a guy named orange that didn’t like tequila, two old teachers from my hometown which one was dead, the spirit of Walt Disney, Mike Ilicth, the grim reaper, a gentleman named Josiah I met at a Kalamazoo real estate meet-up, and a South American princess named Claudia and her daughter Josaphen who I called Jovial. Gaia had scenarios for all of them.

Then people like Taylor Swift were being captured by alien “indomitable spirits.” They were terrifying aliens but ultimately doing good and I had to calm everybody down about it. Gaia made me believe those indomitable spirits were real and fixing society by wreaking havoc around the world. I was made to believe the leader of this group was Madam Web; I rather liked her but she always gave me great anxiety because she was so serious, smart, and powerful.

If you extrapolate and visualize the universe as far wide as we know it, it’s known to look like a web. She was called “Madam Web” after the character from Spider-Man but also because the universe was divided into sectors and she was the leader from our sector from the web. One scenario she ran was to make me leave my house and then make me think I was getting robbed. She also sent me through a terrifying scenario where Howe Military school in Indiana was on fire. A bunch of world leaders was there including Emma Watson and they were trapped. Mark Walberg guided me to checking to see that it wasn’t real.

Gaia was always trying to manipulate me by acting as women I found attractive including Selena Gomez, Emma Watson, Taylor Swift, Hailee Steinfeld, Jennifer Lawrence, Hailie Scott, Taylor Alesia, Simone Biles, the aforementioned Josaphine, and a woman named Xin from China. I was supposed to meet and breed with them. In retrospect I see it as a game Gaia chose to play while she could.

I had some long conversations telepathically with Emma Watson and her family. Gaia would try to make me think she was doing the same thing to Emma. She told me Emma looks in on me like Bell does with the mirror in “Beauty and the Beast.” She also wanted me to think Emma Watson was at Google talking to Sundar Pichai about the technology that was having us telepathically communicate. Emma telepathically told me people would be triggered to run at me and try to kill me if I screamed, “Eric Leo the God-king.”

This is because Gaia would elevate my importance telling me I deserved a kingdom and the indomitable spirits would make me king. I was the ghost king, could communicate with the dead, and could command demons. I could also telepathically communicate to world leaders, supercomputers like the NSA’s, and Google Assistant, Alexa, and Siri.

Gaia had a scenario where she could communicate with Eugene The Machine which she likened its manifestation to a logistics supercomputer. She would put me through thinking about terrifying scenarios with Prometheus from the “Alien” series. Prometheus was really an organic sentient mobile supercomputer robot that walks the earth unnoticed and who was here to protect against Eugene The Machine. The principle Hasen, Josh Lucas’s character from the movie “A Beautiful Mind,” was the communications director’s character from a galaxy in our sector and Prometheus was their robot supercomputer.

I was highly skeptical, and at the time I thought it was aliens because that’s what Gaia was trying to convince me of. The indomitable spirits were alien. However, it was just scenarios in my head with no real-world evidence so most of the time I just went with it. I really didn’t have a choice but to make the best of it. The computer screen closed. I got a CAT scan and everything came back normal.

A series of semantics led me to believe that the company Apple was “The Machine” which I now likened to a trojan virus that does semantic priming. Taylor Swift did a big promotion with Apple from her “Reputation” album. She released “End Game” which I related to the beginning of the real end as related to the movie “This is the end.” The music video for “Ready For It” looks like Taylor had merged with the indomitable spirits and “The Machine” and was in control of Taylor’s mind.

I thought I had a good idea of what this was and thought who would know about this best... and I thought of Noam Chomsky. At this point I thought ETM was Artificial Intelligence psychological software that used semantic priming and spread itself like a virus. I changed the name from Eugene The Machine to ETM which stood for “Effigy Transformation Mechanism.” I thought it was the plutocratic oligarchy using mind control through the media, I wasn’t going to let it go, and I wanted someone highly intelligent that I respect tell me what they think.

I went on a trip to Boston to try and get a meeting with the great Chomsky at MIT. It was too cold to enjoy it and my hip was hurting again otherwise I would have made more of a vacation out of it. While there, I figured out Chomsky worked out of his office at another university in Arizona. I wasn’t going all the way there and let it go.

On my way out to Boston I stopped in New York and looked around outside of the apartment of Taylor Swift. I stopped, checked out the street, tweeted about it, took a few pictures, and left. What I did see was a relatively quiet street in New York. What I didn’t see were signs of distress, alien life, or signs she needed help or rescue.

The trip to Boston didn’t last long. When I got back, I started to feel very unsafe where I was living and thought I had been robbed due to all the scenarios Gaia played. I thought one of the scenarios from when the computer screen was open was going to happen. I thought they might be prophecies. My family and friends said I should go to the hospital but Gaia’s terrifying scenarios and constant aggravation are what drove me there.

I got back on my medication and after I got out of the hospital I still thought the environmental semantics I was experiencing was human and thought my ideas were getting stolen semantically. I was mad I was left to figure this out myself. My attitude, delusional thinking, and anger from another video eventually landed me in an Adult Foster Care Home.

I felt persecuted again. This time I saw the environmental semantics again and saw them as coming through in metaphor through music videos. In a real way, my environment was just naturally reflecting popular media. I figured out almost all the music videos I thought were about me were coming from Universal Music Group (UMG). I thought my influence was being stolen again and my story was being painted through the media in 2018. It was the environmental semantics from years ago all over again.

2019 Dr. Micheal Persinger

By 2019 I realized it made more sense that whatever was reflecting my life in the media was not human but more Godly. It sank in that I was communicating with the planet and really started to think about how... which is when I came up with “knhoeing.” Then I discovered Dr. Micheal Persinger's work which was compatible with my theory and only confirmed my reasoning. Read the telepathy journal for more.

I decided it was Gaia using UMG as a symbolic representation, even Gaia’s corporeal manifestation (the face of the earth) is in UMG’s logo. I see it as Gaia bringing closure as to say “it was me all along.” I decided Gaia has all the capabilities to create the environmental semantics.

I eventually came to the conclusion that, just like in my head, Gaia was using beautiful women as sirens. In ancient Greek mythology sirens were dangerous creatures who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and singing voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. Gaia uses attractive members of my attractive sex to manipulate me but they’re really like sirens in that they will destroy you. I think Emma Watson and her friends were used to manipulate me simply because I love her so much.

The blog helped me write out my thoughts to the point I got too why it is Gaia. I spent a year from 2018 to 2019 reverse-engineering the computer screen that was in my head while back on Invega, thinking about how it was possible. That’s when I started to reverse engineer the magnetic field of the planet and really think about what that meant, the logic from part one about a conscious planet, and soulful communications claiming to be Gaia. I probably would have never figured this out if Gaia wouldn’t have talked to me and opened the computer in my brain. In retrospect, I wish she had led with that when this all started in 2011.

Everything I thought about my persecution is still true with my theory of God. It is (like) a machine, I think Gaia’s intelligence is like a supercomputer. Gaia was “after me,” my family, and knows all about my childhood. She has the capability to communicate telepathically, steal ideas, and manipulate the environment and happenstance coincidences that coincide from the media and my physical area. She had the power and ability to put the computer screen in my head. I no longer believe it’s a human conglomerate after me in any way and (on the contrary) I feel a lot better knowing I talk to god.

#My Reckoning #God #My Story #finding god #emma watson #new york #california #los angeles #LA #NY #Lady Gaga #Selena Gomez #Taylor Swift

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alexiss-fic-archive · 7 years

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This universe of yours Chapter 3: A Gem’s glow Part 3

After a few months of not posting, inspiration came to me and I wrote this in 2 days, I hope you like it

Summary: Steven plans to help the gems on their battle against the mother of the centipeetle.

You can also read it on the Ao3

The sun was setting over the horizon as Steven and Connie left the Beach House, small tremors crept along the ground as they ran through the beach.

A moment earlier, they had discovered that Steven could summon a shield from his gemstone, and even though how he did it was unclear, he decided to help the Crystal Gems on their newest quest: Protect Beach City from its newest menace.

As they ran around the corner of the cliff, the kids finally saw the creature that disturbed their evening.

A black and green arthropod of the size of a small train with a huge white mane on its head, which had a pair of jet black pincers that had a stick stuck close to their junction. Its long body writhed in pain as it released an earsplitting shriek that stopped the children on their tracks.

Next to the creature there were two smaller figures that remained unfazed by its loud call. They were Garnet and Pearl, who had already summoned their weapons and were regrouping to face the humongous enemy before them.

However, the absence of Amethyst along them worried Connie.

"Where's Amethyst?" Connie asked Steven as they ran into a small hole in the cliff.

"I don't know." Steven said as they reached a safe hideout. "I couldn't see her near the others."

"I hope she's okay..." Connie said as she heard a crackling noise coming next to her.

She turned away from the opening of the small cave to see at the origin of the noise only to find Steven struggling to open the plastic bag of one of the Cookie Cats he brought with himself.

"Steven... What are you doing?" A Sceptical Connie asked him.

"I'm opening a Cookie Cat." The hybrid stated as the bag finally opened. "I'm gonna go and help the Gems!"

"Steven..." Connie said before Steven Spoke again.

"I know what you're thinking, Connie. The Cookie Cat may or not be the source of my power," He said. "And even if it isn't, I still want to do what I can to help them."

"But Steven.... That thing could kill you!" She said.

"If that thing defeats the Gems, it'll kill us anyways." He said. "I must try, Connie, even if I can just distract it for a moment."

"Steven..." Connie said one last time before he stepped out of the hideout.

Once he left her alone, Connie let out a sigh and told to herself: "Why are like this, Steven...." Before stepping outside of the small cave to follow him.

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Althought they were a rare creature to encounter, Corrupted nephrites (or Centipeetles, as the Crystal Gems began to call them based on their appearance) were always a force to be reckoned with in Pearl's opinion; Their giant body and hard exoskeleton, junctioned with their unnatural strength, their power to replicate themselves and their ability to release showers of acid as a desperation move, made them formidable foes that could turn a lenghty battle into a calvary.

Within any other circumstances a fusion such as Rainbow Quartz or Sardonyx could quickly deal with the corruption. However, since the holder of one of the halves of Rainbow's gems couldn't even summon his weapon and let alone fuse with another gem, and that all the knowledge about fusion was being withheld from Steven until he could formally join the Crystal Gems OR when his 14th birthday came to be, The Crystal Gems had to fight the Centipeetle the old way.

And If they were being honest, They were not having a nice time.

The creature not only took them by surprise, but was quick to dispose of Amethyst by launching her into the overcast clouds. It was continuously slamming Garnet into the cliff while Pearl tried to avoid getting pinned down by its legs or mauled by its pincers.

So they were pretty much against the ropes as their opponent toyed around with them.

"I don't remember having so much trouble with a Centipeetle before!" Pearl said before attempting to cut one of the creature's legs, resulting only in her spear getting small dents and chips on its blade. "Crud!"

"Pearl, your spears aren't as hard as Rose's Sword or Rainbow Axe!" Garnet grunted as she grabbed insect's jaws after it failed to catch her between them, keeping them away from her body. "Use them on its soft spots!"

"THIS THING DOESN'T HAVE A SOFT SPOT!" Pearl yelled as she tried to stab one of the legs' joints with the body, resulting in the spear's spiral shattering against the harder surface.

"I'M SEEING ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!" Garnet shouted at her partner as the creature tried to bite her before slamming her into the cliff.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TOLD ME THAT EARLIER!?" Pearl exclaimed as she created another spear and rushed to help her friend.

"'CAUSE I'M BUSY TRYING TO NOT GET EATEN BY THIS THING!" Garnet said as she fought the creature's jaws in an attempt to not get trapped inside the insect's caustic maw.

Fortunately for her, Pearl showed next to her and quickly shoved down her weapon into the soft tissue of the creature's sclera, as far as possible from the gemstone that acted as its eye. The open wound released a small Spray of caustic blood in front of the lancer, who covered her eyes and gem in time to avoid getting blinded by it.

The insect released a horrifying screech as it freed Garnet from its grasp, squirming in pain as its blood dripped down from the pole of Pearl's spear.

The thin gem created another spear as the droplets of acid blood ate away her projected flesh before fading away from existence. She was thankful that she got hit by its blood and not by its spit, as the caustic properties were stronger in the monster's saliva than in other bodily fluids.

"You okay?" Garnet asked.

"You know I've been worse." Pearl replied smugly.

"We'll be in a worser situation if we don't come up with a plan to defeat it." Garnet stated.

"We can't target its eye again, and its exoskeleton is too hard for my Spears...." Pearl said.

"What about its underside?" The fusion asked. "It's soft enough for them to hit."

"But it won't work...." The lancer said. "That thing is too long, its vitals can be anywhere in there."

"How about I damage its entire body from within?" Garnet suggested.

"Fried bug, huh?" Pearl said with a raised eyebrow. "We haven't done that since the eighties."

"We still need Amethyst here for it to work, though." The bigger gem stated as their enemy began to recover, curling around itself and trying to pull out the shaft of the weapon lodged in its eye with the pincer of its tail, squealing in pain as its acid blood dripped down from the metal pole as it was removed. After that, The Centipeetle's mane of white hair began to rustle, as smaller copies of the monster were released into the Beach next to it.

"So, We buy time, wait for Amethyst, connect it, shock it, and then, you finish it up?" Pearl summarized before looking at Garnet to check if they were in the same page. After receiving an approving nod from her partner, The lithe gem mirrored her before they both changed to a battle stance, Unbeknownst to them that there was someone else listening at them.

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While the Crystal Gems were discussing their strategy, Steven managed to sneak behind them and find cover behind one of the many broken pieces of the temple's statue that littered the beach's sand.

He listened at their plan with hope that he could jump out at the last second, shield in hand to help them out.

He took a bite of the ice cream he opened earlier abd waited for the shining light of his gemstone to materialize.

But nothing happened.

He took another bite and the pink gemstone remained as inert as always.

He took another, desperate bite from the melting treat as tears began to sprout from his eyes, his left hand clutched at the unresponsive, pink gemstone underneath his shirt.

"C'mon..." He pleaded to his Gem. "Please... let me do something..."

He slumped into the sand as the gemstone remained unresponsive. Apparently, Connie was right, and Ice cream had nothing to do with his powers at all.

"Darn it..." He said as the ground rumbled again as the battle between the gems and the monster and its minions ensued. "Why did I even though this would be an good plan..."

Tears began to flow freely from his eyes as Steven realized that he was a complete liability for the gems, What was the point of having a weapon if it didn't appeared when you needed it the most?

He felt small and useless, so much that he literally felt like he shrunk down to the size he had when he was eight.

He hugged his legs close to his chest, forsaking the now almost extinct ice cream sandwich to the beach's sand as he heard Pearl's voice as she was slammed against the wall of the cliff and Garnet's cries of concern for her teammate.

He sat there, hoping that the creatures or the gems couldn't listen to his whimpers and soft sniffles.

A moment later, He heard a loud boom accompanied by a burst of wind and sand that made him raise his head from his knees. He peeked from behind the hand he was hiding into the source of the sound, finding a small cloud of sand that quickly settled down, Inside of it was an injured Amethyst, who had crash-landed into the beach after having been thrown so high into the sky by the Centipeetle that she was airborne for at least five minutes.

"Amethyst?" Steven said as he checked her from his hideout, She had her right arm twisted in an unnatural way, as well as some bruises, scrapes and cuts result from the crash against the abrasive sand; Interestingly, The purple gemstone in her chest didn't had a single scratch or crack, probably because Amethyst cushioned the fall with her small body.

"AMETHYST!!" The other Gems shouted in concern as the creature lost interest in them, leaving them to its spawns as it moved towards the weakened gem.

"GET OUT OF THERE!" Pearl said as Amethyst struggled to stand on her feet, as her right leg was also displaced from its natural position.

The beast loomed above the helpless gem as it prepared to lunged at her.

Steven couldn't tear his teary eyes away from the scene that was about to happen.

The Insect prepared to lower its acid-coated jaws at her, However, it was interrupted by a stream of the corrosive poison that its descendants spew on its back.

It squealed in pain as it own acid ate away the protective armor, leaving that particular spot weakened and vulnerable.

It turned around to see the origin of this new attack while The gems and Steven did the same, And no one could've prepared them to the sight they were beholding.

Connie was standing in the middle of the beach, Tears running down her cheeks as she frowned angrily at the monster in front of her. In her arms there was a smaller Centipeetle that had acid still dripping from its jaws.

"CONNIE!?" The pair of gems said worryingly as they focused on killing the remaining offspring of the creature.

"Stay. Away. from. Her." She said to the creature who now had shown interest in her.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!!" The girl yelled before squishing the insect in her arms, forcing it to regurgitate the acid concoction towards its creator.

The stream made contact with some of the legs of the monster, making it shriek in pain as it cut them off away from the main body.

Enraged by the new attacker, The monster chose to retaliate with the same fire.

It quickly crawled against the girl with murderous intent, closing its maw to store the acid it was about to spew.

Noticing what was about to happen, Steven suddenly felt bigger, and left the hideout as fast as his feet allowed him, Rushing to protect the girl from the deathly insect before her.

Sensing the immediate danger, The creature in the girl's arms manage to escape from her grasp, while she covered herself with her arms to protect herself from the spray of lethal acid.

She closed her eyes as she awaited for the Centipeetle to unleash its attack on her.

However, Instead of feeling a burning pain all over her body, Connie felt nothing. She was completely fine.

She opened up her eyes to see the reason she was still alive and found that Steven was standing in front of her, along with a enlarged version of His pink shield; It had blocked the deadly acid from the monster

He stood in front of her before he suddenly collapsed into the sand, His shield dissipating as well.

"Steven!" The girl said as she walked over to him. Worried about his sudden fainting, She kneeled down next to him and was about to check his pulse, when an angry screech interrupted her. The beast was still there.

It was about to lunge at them when a purple whip encrusted with purple crystals wrapped itself around it's neck; Amethyst had recovered.

Her arm and leg were still made a mess and her face had a black eye and had some bleeding cuts around the left side of her visage, but still, she was determined enough to overcome her injury in order to protect her children.

"HEY, BUGFACE!" She shouted as she restrained the insect with only one arm. "WE'RE THE ONES YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT!"

After finishing the sentence, her other two teammates showed up besides her. They also had some scratches and bite marks from the offspring they fought, but they were in better shape than Amethyst.

The white gem threw the spear she was holding towards the weakened portion of the armor that Connie made with her stunt, creating an opening to Garnet to finish the job.

The bigger gem in the trio gathered lightning in her fists before leaping into the spear that protuded from its body.

With a grunt, She pushed the spear deeper into the monster's insides along with her thunder with a mighty punch, electrocuting the corruption with thousand of volts, effectively damaging its vitals.

With a final screech, The green gemstone that functioned as an eye lost its glow, before the creature's entire body vanished in an explosion of smoke that cleared up the overcast sky.

Garnet got close to the beast's remains, It's gemstone, before she sealed it inside a stasis bubble and sent it to the temple.

Meanwhile, An awed Connie looked at her saviors as Steven began to move again.

"Connie?" He said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Steven." She said with a smile. "Thanks to you."

The boy returned the smile before Garnet walked towards them.

"You two were of many help." The large gem said proudly. "Let's go inside."

#connie maheswaran #steven quartz universe #SU FIC #Orphan AU #Violence #Amethyst

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shewhowantsmouseears · 7 years

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Disney Storybits : Mickeytaro & The Proposing Plan

Another addition to my "Mickey-taro" idea that I did before! To repeat, it's a take on the Japanese tale of Momotaro/Peach Boy. Mickey is no bigger than a peach bit, and is on a journey to get the Lucky Hammer, a magical item that can make anyone and anything any size! Along the way he befriends Horace and Panchito who want to aide him on his quest. Things get complicated when the hammer is in the possession of the beautiful Princess Minnie, who refuses to give its location.

In this storybit, Panchito thinks he may have found a way around that little problem.

Panchito Pistoles was not a braggart, and was often called a humble man. Whenever he did brag, it was almost always about his friends, preferring to highlight the amazing things they'd done. But tonight was a little different – tonight he thought he was rather brilliant, and in the future he planned to tell everyone the story of this success. So far his plan had gone off without a hitch.

Step one, convince the princess.

“Mickey wants to speak to me in private?” Minnie had repeated the request, confused. “What do you mean? He can talk to me anytime he wants. He's a dear friend, you all are.” This conversation had taken place half an hour ago, and her highness had been on her way to her bedroom. As a result she had started to undo some of the pins and ribbons in her long, lovely black hair.

“No no, good lady, this is a very private talk he wants to have.” Panchito lowered his voice to a whisper, hoping to make her understand quickly before he was caught. “Mickey has some special things he wishes to tell you.”

She'd yet to wash off the layers of make-up on her face, yet it was easy to tell the difference between the blush that was from powder, and the blush that came naturally. Minnie reddened and reddened more with every passing second. “Oh, my.” She finally said, eyes cast down demurely. “W-well...I suppose it would be rude to deny him such a request.”

“¡Excelente!” Panchito clapped his hands together. “He'll be waiting for you in the gardens in a half hour! Don't keep him waiting!” Although he doubted she would, judging by that shy yet eager smile on her dainty lips. With the step completed, Panchito suddenly raced off to complete the next one.

Step two, distract the lady-in-waiting.

“I don't see why I gotta do this.” Horace had huffed, crossing his arms and leaning on the hallway wall. This conversation had taken place ten minutes ago, and with every wasted minute Horace was unknowingly threatening to destroy the entire scheme. “Why can't you do it? She's a mean one, that Clarabelle! She's not gunna wanna be seen with me!”

“Oh please,” Panchito interrupted, trying to keep his cool. “I've seen the way she looks at you. It has to be you! Otherwise she'll find out where Minnie is, and the whole thing will be ruined! Don't you care about Mickey's happiness?”

Horace rolled his eyes, but sighed heavily. “Of course I do.”

“And don't you want him to get the Lucky Hammer?”

“Of course I do-”

“Then you find Clarabelle and keep her distracted as long as possible! For the sake of our friend Mickey! ¡Vamonos!” For extra emphasis, Panchito gave a kick to Horace's leg, and the disgruntled horse trotted down the hall to find the equally disgruntled servant. Horace was stubborn, but like Panchito, he'd give anything for Mickey's wish to come true.

Which left step three, which was telling Mickey, which he'd done five minutes ago.

“A plan to get the Lucky Hammer?” Mickey was intrigued but also wary. “Aw c'mon, Panchito, you heard the princess! She can't tell any of us where it is until the Demon King is defeated. No way, no how.”

“Yes way, yes how!” Panchito used his hand so Mickey could hop off of the window he'd been cleaning and ride on to the floor. “Trust me, Mickey, if this works – and it will work! - you will have that hammer in no time! And then you will be normal sized, and your Papa will love you, and all will be well! Just do everything I say, and there's no way you can lose!”

It didn't take long to convince Mickey, who had dreamed of being bigger than a peach pit for all his life. He supposed even if this plan, whatever it was, didn't work out then there would be no harm done. Besides, he enjoyed spending time with Princess Minnie. She was easy to talk to, always keen to hear his stories, and had a heart bigger than any regular-sized person's. He entertained the notion of having feelings for her, but tried to reject that thought soon after – not only was he a mere commoner, but what woman in her right mind would want to have a lover who fit in the palm of her hand? She deserved better.

And so Mickey went to the gardens, although he wondered why Panchito had said to “do everything” as he said if he was going to run away at the last minute. He dismissed it as another one of Panchito's overenthusiastic oddities and walked into the tall grass. Mickey wasn't sure where exactly she wanted to meet up, as a simple garden for her was an entire landscape for him, but as he walked deeper in he found a familiar clearing – the same spot where he first met Princess Minnie. But now it was covered in a thick, silk blanket, a golden candle-holder in the middle holding up two flickering red candles. Petals of various colors had been strewn about.

Mickey was immediately suspicious.

“Oh my goodness. Did you do all this?” came the sweet voice of the princess, who was now walking into sight. Instead of washing off her make-up and undoing her hair as she was supposed to before going to bed, she'd added on even more touches to her face and her hair was tied up in even more elegant curls. It was as if instead of donning the look a princess should have, she'd gone the extra mile to make sure she was looking as beautiful as she could make herself. She'd made an effort – which made Mickey's heart jump into his throat, until he realized what it was she'd asked.

“Uh,” Mickey struggled in his throat, looking around. “I guess? In a way?” This had to be Panchito's doing, but what the rooster was doing, Mickey couldn't guess.

“It's lovely.” Minnie smiled, sitting down on her knees and smoothing down her flowing robes, this one white with a pattern of red roses stitched on, creating the illusion that the petals were fluttering with every move she made. “I hope you didn't go to too much trouble.”

“It wasn't any trouble at all.” Literally. What was he getting into? “That's, uh, that's a nice kimono you got on. Ain't seen it before.”

“It's for special occasions,” Minnie replied, her eyes timidly turning away for a moment, hiding her lips behind her sleeve. Mickey's mind reeled - special occasion? Why was this a special occasion? Weren't they just there to talk? “I...I was told you have some special things you wanted to tell me.”

“Uhhh.” Mickey stretched the word out as long as he could, trying to decipher whatever was being presented to him. As his eyes bounced all over, he noticed a rustling in a nearby cherry blossom tree. At first, worry seized his body, and he made a motion to grab the needle of a sword on his belt – was it one of the Demon King's minions?

Nope – it was Panchito, who now hung upside down from one the branches, holding up a long piece of paper with hastily written words. Say “you're so beautiful!”

Mickey blinked rapidly in honest confusion. “You're...so beautiful?” He said out loud, and it took him half a second to realize what he'd actually said and who he'd actually said it to.

Minnie giggled, oblivious to what was happening in the tree or the panic flowing through Mickey's head. “You're always so sweet, Mickey. I've had so many people give me compliments, but it's... just different coming from you. Like you see me as Minnie, and not just the princess.”

“Oh. Well. Um.” Mickey fumbled, trying not to watch Panchito write something else on a new layer of paper. “I think we'd be friends even if you weren't the princess. You've always been real nice to me.” Okay, so they were complimenting each other. It was nice, but how was this going to get the Lucky Hammer? Minnie wasn't going to reveal its location over idle flattery.

… Right?

“I feel the same way!” Minnie chirped, her enthusiasm growing while she lost some of her proper royal demeanor. “Size, titles, none of it matters. The friendship we have is so much stronger than that. You always know how to cheer me up, and make me feel like a real person.”

Did he really have such an influence over her? Mickey momentarily pushed aside the thoughts of the hammer, more than happy to indulge in this time of sweetness. “I only give as good as I get, Princess! You make me feel teen feet tall! Everyone else always takes pity on me or tries to do things they think I can't do. But you let me try stuff. You let me...” Panchito was finished writing. “Um... You let me...”

Minnie waited patiently for him to finish the sentence, but Panchito had gone on a different tangent. Say “I want to be with you!”

Be with her? But he was with her already, they were right there, talking and -

And then the entire idea of the plan hit Mickey with the force of an exploding mountain. THIS was the plan to get the hammer?! He was supposed to – supposed to – seduce the princess?! Was Panchito out of his mind?!

“Mickey?” Minnie asked gently, lowering her head slightly to get a better look at her companion. “Is everything all right?” The revelation of Panchito's plan had caused Mickey's entire face to go as red as the roses on Minnie's kimono, and his tiny body trembled with great force.

“No!” Mickey shouted, intending to tell Panchito before correcting himself. “I mean, yes! I mean, that is, uh, I, um...” He wanted to make plans to kill the rooster in his sleep, but this matter had to be resolved first. “I don't know what I was thinking.” He struggled to make his voice stern, hoping that he'd make himself clear to Panchito, who was now pointing at the same words over and over in an attempt to make Mickey say them. “I must have been thinking something crazy. I must have hit my head. I was thinking about things that would never, ever happen in a million years.” He finished with a curt glare to Panchito. The rooster stuck his tongue out.

Minnie's body sunk with every negative thought, oblivious to the plan being made and defied all around her. Had Mickey been paying better attention, he might have picked up that Minnie thought of him just as fondly as he thought of her – perhaps even more. It was why Panchito had been so confident of the entire idea in the first place – he'd noticed the wistful gazes Minnie had whenever she looked upon Mickey, the sheer delight in her voice whenever she spoke of him, and the daily excuses she thought up so she could spend more time at his side. But being a princess, and a lady, it was only appropriate for the man to make the first move, so to speak.

Which wasn't all that helpful when the man in question had a mixture of self-loathing and obliviousness.

So in this moment when Minnie believed Mickey was giving up on telling her how he truly felt about her – which was what she had desperately hoped was the special thing he wanted to say – her heart felt as it'd begun to rip in two. Yet one of the things that had won Mickey over was that she didn't take things laying down. She fought, as she fought now. “I want to hear it!”

“Huh?” Mickey had been so caught up in telling Panchito off he'd forgotten Minnie was part of this. “Hear what?”

“I want to hear what you were thinking.” Minnie placed her palms on the ground, lowering her head as much as her body was able. “I promise you, I'll listen to everything you have to say. You can trust me! Can't you?”

“O-Of course I can trust you!” Mickey stuttered, but to his relief Panchito appeared to have given up on that one train of thought, as he'd tossed the paper aside and was writing something else. “Princess, I'd trust you with anythin'! But, well, there's just...somethin' weird goin' on, and...” Panchito was finished. Maybe, Mickey prayed, this was something far more reasonable.

Say “I love you!”

Panchito was a dead man. “...And some people have rocks for brains.”

“Mickey, please don't say that about yourself!” Minnie cupped her hands, which was the usual signal that meant Mickey was allowed to walk onto them.

“I wasn't.” Mickey muttered under his breath, seeing Panchito now writing something else.

“You're not dumb at all!” Minnie insisted, lifting Mickey up so they were closer together. “You've always been very clever! You always find your own way to fix things! I'd say you're smarter than every man in Japan put together!”

Mickey would have been immensely flattered by such words, but Panchito kept distracting him. Now the rooster was flinging several papers in a row, each suggestion worst than the last. Mickey could only hope his eyes were getting the message across.

Say “I wish I could take you into my arms!”

No!

Say “I wish I could kiss you lips!”

NO!

Say “I wish I could be at your side forever!”

PANCHITO PISTOLES FOR THE LOVE OF -

“I wish you could be at my side forever.”

“I AIN'T SAYIN' – what?” Hold on a second, that last one had been said out loud. Mickey abruptly paused, looking back at Minnie's face. His ears were big for his body, little for anyone else's, but they worked very well. He was certain she'd said something.

“If your father won't accept you,” Minnie was saying, her voice now as soft as the evening wind, one of the ribbons coming undone in her hair. “And you can't go back home...You...you can stay here forever, with me.” She wished she could hide as she said this, but if Mickey wasn't going to make any moves, then it was up to her, no matter how embarrassing it got. “I know your size makes you so unhappy...but I'll do all in my power, every single day, to make you happy. I'll make up for all the happiness you ever deserved in life, and for the rest of our lives. If you'd allow me...I want to take care of you.” She closed her eyes, as if worn out by expressing her deepest desires.

Mickey was tempted to pinch his arm to see if this was a dream, but he convinced himself that if this was a dream, Panchito wouldn't have been it, especially not obnoxiously giving two thumbs up. Mickey's heart pounded in his chest, a hard drumming that he would've believed the entire kingdom could hear. There was no way Panchito's ridiculous idea had worked – so, somehow, someway, he must have stolen her heart before this night happened. How he did it, Mickey couldn't fathom or guess. Around Minnie he was simply Mickey – nothing more and nothing less.

And to be honest, he hadn't a clue about his future. He had refused to go home until he was of normal size, and if he wouldn't ever be normal sized, then where was he to go until the end of his days? A lump formed in Mickey's throat. He missed his parents deeply – but he also loved Minnie deeply. The offer was more than tempting. He couldn't possibly give her what she deserved, yet she didn't care. It was a strange sort of happy mindboggling.

If he had nothing to lose anymore, then, well, why not?

“I like you.” Mickey blurted out, and regretted it only because of how childish it sounded. One didn't answer a potential marriage proposal with “like”. It was just the first words that popped into his head and had the power to leave his mouth. “I like you a lot.” As if that was any better! Then again, it wasn't as if he'd ever practiced or rehearsed for such a moment, since said moment had always bordered on the impossible in his mind. “You don't really...have to worry about all that happiness stuff. I'm happy enough when we're...together, y'know? Just being around you makes everything all better. So, you just be you, and I'll just be me. Like we've always done.”

It wasn't a wholly definitive answer, but they were both still young, and Minnie accepted he would need time to think it over. For now, she was greatly pleased by what she had heard. She lifted her hands up and kissed Mickey atop his head – it couldn't be said if her lips had knocked him over, or if Mickey was so struck with lovesick stupor that he fell onto his back. Either way, Minnie giggled, and Panchito believed his plan to be a surefire success.

And, for the record, Horace and Clarabelle had a very nice time together as well.

#disney #fanfic #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #panchito pistoles

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