before the quarrel

Scully’s Reasons Why Not

by: mldrgrl
Rated: PG
Summary: Written for @leiascully‘s “Lists” challenge

Scully sat at the table in her kitchen, tapping the top of her pen against the blank yellow legal pad of paper in front of her.  She had sat down with a cup of tea, intending to prepare a list of pros and cons to the proposition Mulder had given her, but so far, the paper was still blank and the tea had gone cold and untouched.  She sighed and clicked on her pen, putting the ballpoint to the page.  Finally, she wrote a header.

     Should Muld we become lovers?

Even writing it down made her cheeks burn.  She dropped the pen and got up from the table, swiping the tepid mug of tea up and taking it to the sink.  She ran cold water from the tap and wet her hands before bringing them up to her cheeks.  A dishrag lay crumbled on the counter and she took it up to dry her hands.

At the back of one of her cupboards was a bottle of whiskey.  She could never remember why it was there or who it belonged to, but it had been in her cupboard for years, nearly full and collecting dust.  There were no shot glasses on hand, so she poured an estimate of a shot into a mug and took that back to the table and sat back down.

She was only able to down about half the whiskey she poured, which was followed by a few moments of coughing and sputtering.  She wiped her watering eyes with the back of her hand and picked up the pen again.  Already, her limbs felt warm and loose.

  1. I think it’s against the rules
  2. They would use it against us
  3. Would the work suffer?
  4. Could he give me what I want?
  5. What do I want?
  6. We could hurt each other
  7. We can not go back

That was as far as she got before she put the pen down and licked her lips.  The taste of the whiskey was still sharp on her tongue.  She tapped her pen again until there was a knock on her door and her shoulders jerked in surprise.  It was after ten and she was in her pajamas and a robe, not dressed for visitors, but who else would knock on her door at ten o’clock on a Thursday night but Mulder?

Lethargically, Scully went to open the door.  Her senses were a bit dulled from the alcohol and her fingers slipped on the chain latch.

“Hey,” Mulder said, slipping past her once she’d gotten the door open.  He was still in the suit she’d left him in at the office, only his tie was loose and he had his hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat.

“Hey,” Scully said, shuffling away from him to go back to the table.

“I thought we could talk.”

“It’s late.”

“I know it’s late, but I thought maybe our conversation got a little out of hand today at work and…we should talk.”

“You told me it was my decision to make,” she said, chair creaking as she sat down.  “That the ball was in my court.”

“I know,” he said, taking a seat across from her and taking his hands out of his pockets to fold them on the table.  “Maybe I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“About it being your decision alone.”  He glanced down at the legal pad on the table and Scully held her breath, but didn’t move.  Two fingers went to the top of the pad and he slid it closer to him and turned it around.  “Seems like I got here just in time.”

She didn’t say anything as she watched his eyes dart across the page.  He glanced up at her and then over at the mug.  She followed his gaze and licked the corner of her mouth as he picked up the mug and gave it a little sniff.

“Liquid courage?” he asked.

“You can have the rest,” she said.

“No, thanks.”  He put the mug back down and then picked up her pen.  “It’s not against the rules, by the way,” he said, drawing a line through number one on her list.  “Unless I was your superior.”

“How many times have you reminded me that you’re the head of the x-files division and I just work there?”

Mulder’s eyes went wide for a moment and his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed.  He took the mug back up and downed the rest of the whiskey with a slight hiss.

“You’re my partner,” he said, scratching another line across number one.  “End of story.”

“When it’s convenient,” she said, calmly lacing her fingers together in her lap.  She could feel a fight brewing, but Mulder was focusing all his attention on her list.

“They use us against each other all the time, Scully.  They already know I would go to the ends of the earth for you, I kind of literally, already did.  And you, you once willingly got yourself held in contempt of congress by refusing to give them my whereabouts.”

“I didn’t even know your whereabouts,” she argued.

“They didn’t know that.”  He crossed out number two as well.

“Are you going to do this for every item?”

“You bet.  Would the work suffer?  Is that a joke?”

“How do you know it wouldn’t?”

“Because, I know.  It never has before.”

“Hold on,” she said, reaching across the table and putting her hand over his as he went to cross it out.  “That’s not true, Mulder.”

“So, we’ve had a few rough patches.  We always get through it.”

“What if there’s more at stake?”

“Now you’re skipping ahead to number six.”

“So what if I am?  They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.  I mean it, Mulder.  If I disagree with you about one of your theories, what’s going to stop you from blaming it on a lover’s quarrel we had the night before?”

“What was the lover’s quarrel about?”

Scully took her hand from his wrist and sat back with a sigh.  “They’re legitimate concerns.  Don’t belittle them or dismiss them so easily.”

The pen hovered over the list in Mulder’s hand and then he set it down.  “What do you want?” he asked.  “What do you want that I might not be able to give you?  Because, I’ll tell you right now, I would give you anything.”

“Even time to figure it out?”

“If time is what you need.”

“It might be.”

“You know what I don’t see on this list?”


“Whether or not you want me.”

“That’s not something I have to question.”

Mulder got up and went around the table to her side where he knelt down at the side of her chair.  She sighed as he turned her chair towards him and then put his hands on her knees.  He looked up at her with a puppy dog gaze until she sighed again and put her hands over his.

“I just think it’s time for us, Scully,” he said.  “I’ve been fighting it for so long and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“And you know I have to think about everything.  It’s what I do.”

Mulder nodded and then he pulled one hand from hers and put it on the back of her neck.  He stretched his neck up and tipped his head while bringing her face closer to his.  

“Mulder,” she whispered.

“Shh,” he breathed against her mouth.  “I’m giving you something to think about.”

Her eyes drooped half-closed as his lips brushed hers.  She felt a rush of heat move up her body and a coil of desire move down through her abdomen.  A tiny whimper escaped from the back of her throat as he deepened the kiss and brought his arm around her waist.  She had just let her eyes fall completely shut when he pulled away, rubbing the back of her neck with his thumb as he moved back.

“Dammit, Mulder,” she whispered.

“Take all the time you need,” he said, slowly letting go of her and getting to his feet.  “See you tomorrow?”


He walked over to the door to let himself out while Scully sat quivering in her seat.  “Have fun with that list,” he said as he walked out the door.

She sat looking at the closed door for a long time before she turned back to table and pulled her list back from where Mulder had left it.  She picked up the pen and licked her lips.  The taste of whiskey from Mulder’s tongue was in her mouth.

     8. Resistance is futile

The End

Oh, sleepovers. Nothing is better than spending a night with your bestfriends overdosing on junk food, laying around in your most comfortable and embarrassing pajamas and watching five movies in a row. Sleepovers can either be extremely relaxing or hard to recover from, but they are so funny and irreplaceable that I personally think there should be an international Sleepover Night. 

Movies, obviously, are a must-be according to the Sleepover Bible (made up by me right now), but sometimes it can be hard to choose what to watch. I guess one of the best ways to decide is having a marathon or establishing a theme: you can watch the whole Harry Potter/Pirates of the Caribbean/Star Wars saga, go for a tv series like Friends or Grey’s Anatomy or follow a fil rouge that links together a few films.

What I’m proposing you today is one of my favourite themes: teen movies from 1990 to 2000. Beside being extremely funny and unmissable if you are a movie amateur, they definitely left a mark in the filmmaking history, defining a generation not so far in time from ours. They can also teach you something about style or pop culture, so you have no excuses left not to watch them!


People worshipped them and cursed them, but everybody wanted to be them .

In Jawbreaker you have all the ingredients for a classic teen movie: a high school, a popular and mean clique of Queen Bees, a kind-hearted girl loved by everyone, a prom, hot guys - with the only exception that this is not a classic teen movie.

Jawbreaker is a dark comedy and (surprise!) it involves a kidnapping, a death and police investigations. Written and directed by David Stein, the movie revolves around the “Flawless Four” of Reagan High School, Los Angeles:  Courtney Shayne, Marcie Fox, Julie Freeman and Elizabeth Purr. They all rule the school with a terror regime, except for Liz. She is not as mean as her friends and makes no differences in relating with others - her beauty and honesty, then, make her the most loved and admired girl. 

Obviously, this generates jealousy in Courtney, Marcie and Julie, who decide to prank their friend on seventeenth birthday, by performing a fake kidnapping. They take her off guard early in the morning, binding her with ropes and pushing a jawbreaker candy into her mouth. The girls lock Elizabeth in the trunk of a car and drive towards the mall to celebrate their friend’s brithday with breakfast. However, once they open the trunk, the sight is definitely not what they expected it to be…

Jawbreaker is worth watching not only for the twisted, surprising plot and the iconic (and definitely realistic) language used by the girls, but also because it explores the dynamics of a group of girls with the voice of an outsider, Fern Mayo, who finds herself involved in the events against her will. This movie is gonna make you laugh, startle and maybe regret not living in 1999.

Cruel Intentions (1999)

In the game of seduction there’s only one rule: never fall in love.

Drugs, sex, a hot step-brother, games of seduction, classy and total black outfits, rich mansions. If you like this list, Cruel Intentions is the perfect movie for you. Beside having an incredibly attractive cast, a young Reese Witherspoon included, its plot twists the usual “mean clique” dynamics.

Set in a wealthy Manhattan, the film is about an oddly assorted couple: Sebastian Valmont and his step-sister Kathryn Merteuil. He’s well known for his countless sexual conquers and seductive manners, which perfectly match Kathryn’s inner wickedness and malice - but they always both manage to get away with it thanks to their fascinating looks and charming attitudes. 

The tight relationship between the two not only sees them accomplices in many misdeeds, but also gives rise to explicit sexual innuendos, as Sebastian’s not-so-secret fantasy is to sleep with Kathryn. Despite wishing the same, the girl likes to play it hard to get, so she decides to set up a bet: if Sebastian will be able to seduce Annette Hargrove, Kathryn will have sex with him - otherwise, she’ll get his vintage Jaguar. It’s not as easy as it seems: Annette is the daughter of their school’s headmaster and has recently written an article on saving her virginity for marriage.

As the time goes by and the relationship with Annette develops, Sebastian will find his controversial morals hardly tested. He’ll also have to manage the seduction of the young and naive Cecile, the new girlfriend of Kathryn’s ex, and he’ll be soon torn between his usual lifestyle and a wager maybe too hard to win, even for his unbeaten ego.

Cruel Intentions is weird, explicit, somehow shocking. It points out the differences between boys and girls as it comes to sex, providing a few interesting reflections under a chic, witty and dark atmosphere. Kathryn’s outfits are ICONIC and the movie will make you want more - and you’re lucky, because there are a prequel and a sequel.

Clueless (1995)

Dear diary, I’m more fabulous than five minutes ago.

I don’t even know how to start with this and if you’ve never seen Clueless before… oh my gosh, you can’t imagine what you’ve missed. This movie is p-e-r-f-e-c-t! 

Yes, we have a Queen Bee, Cher, with her sidekick Dionne. And yes, she’s vain and superficial. But she is funny, gorgeous, good natured, harmless and extremely relatable. You could easily make any quote from her character yours, really. She’s crazy wealthy and lives in a mansion in Beverly Hills, obviously being the most popular girl at school.

The movie explores Cher’s life and her attempts at making “good deeds”, showing how her attitude is more innocent than biased. She decides to give Tai Frasier, a “tragically unhip” girl, a makeover aimed at initiating her into the popular universe of their high school; she tries to act as cupid and match two professors (also to raise her grades); all of this, just for the sake of “giving back to the community”.

Cher’s hilarious adventures continue as she finds herself facing a new, attractive boy at school, her annoying stepbrother, the driving license exam and other teenage things we’ve all been through. I loved this movie because she’s fierce and self confident in a positive way, for once - and I won’t even mention the outfits of almost every character, which I’ve seen more than once reinterpreted in the latest collections of many fashion brands. And let me add that Alicia Silverstone’s facial expressions are the best thing in the world… In a few words: watch it. You won’t absolutely regret it.

The Craft (1996)

“You girls watch out for those weirdos” - “We are the weirdos, mister”

Everyone loves a bit of magic. Candles, chanting odd words, summoning the supernatural, meeting in the middle of the night - all things you probably don’t do but that still sound fascinating and attractive, especially if you are a young girl with a mysterious past in a new school where you know no one.

This is how it goes for Sarah Bailey once she arrives to the catholic academy of St. Benedict, Los Angeles. A group of outcasts, with difficult, gloomy lives and rumored to be practicing witchcraft, notices that Sarah is not as normal as she seems, thus luring her into joining their coven. The powers of the four girls reach a whole new level as they try to fix their messy lives and make up for any wrong that had been unfairly done to them.

However, nothing is easy when it comes to unearthly powers - the group will face difficult personal struggles and they will soon understand that everything comes with a price. 

This thriller will open your eyes on the hard life of social rejects in a surreal way, making you think twice before exposing someone not as lucky as you - you never know what may be their revenge. I loved The Craft because it explores a different side of the world depicted in the movies listed above - it gives voice to the unheard and shows things from a different point of view.

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

But mostly, I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close.

Sisters can be so different. Take Bianca and Kat Stratford, for example. One is popular, beautiful, admired and elegant, the other is a smart, casual, ironic bookworm. Cameron James (and adorable Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is head over heels for Bianca as soon as he sees her, but he’s warned by a friend that the girl’s father doesn’t allow her to date anyone. This doesn’t only upset Cameron, but Bianca as well - that’s why before the prom she quarrels with her dad until he agrees on letting her go at one condition: Kat has to find a boyfriend and go to the prom, too, causing Bianca to become furious since her sister will never want to be with someone.

Cameron finds out about the new rule and decides to find a boy who will date Kat, so then he’ll be able to go out with Bianca. The mission seems impossible, but of course we have Heath Ledger, in the role of Patrick Verona, who once again becomes the hero and (obviously with a heavy salary) agrees on trying.

Will the mission stay professional? Will Kat resist to Patrick’s charm or will she be trapped by the good-looking outcast as bitter as she is? Will Bianca go to prom with Cameron? You need to watch the movie to find out. This is one of my favourite ones, I’ve seen it at least three times and it’s just great - I always like watching the development of a romantic relationship, because each one is different from the other. And the singing scene on the bleachers? Iconic.

Romeo + Juliet (1996) - trailer

If love be rough with you, be rough with love.

Do I even have to say something?? I mean, Leo DiCaprio, Shakespeare’s most known masterpiece, love and death, Baz Luhrmann. This is enough, isn’t it?

Romeo + Juliet is the modernized and adapted version of the famous, tragic love story. It’s visionary, surreal, heartbreaking and it should be seen at least once a week because it’s just too much. It is set in a imaginary Verona Beach, where the adventures and deeds of two families in war intertwine with the forbidden love affair of a young boy and girl. The plot follows Shakespeare’s script, but you won’t find swords or horses. Guns and sportscars, gas stations and a swimming pool are just a few of the innovative twists Luhrmann has used in this dreamy and loud film.

What about you? What are your favourite 90ies/sleepover movies? Let us know by commenting this post, the Facebook page or sending an ask! x

This is my random thoughts of the first part of “Requiem”. (Because Karai was there and last part was too hard for me to talk now.) You know I’m Karai, Leorai fan. I wanted to talk about them in that part. (And I’m not native speaker, sorry for my odd English)

So finally Stockman finished making perfect mutagen and Shredder took in that.

The new mutagen made Shredder emotionless so that he could kill even Karai.I don’t want to say that, but he loved Karai in his way, and he decided to cut it for good to defeat Splinter… Now he became a heartless killer machine.

While it was happening, Splinter told Leo that “heart” was important for the leader. It was an interesting comparison.

Keep reading

thescarletspeedstress  asked:

romione + "Stop trying to cheer me up!"

Set riiiight at the end of CoS, so it’s mostly pre-relationship, I’m afraid. Hopefully you enjoy anyway, Amie!

“I can’t believe you were upset Dumbledore cancelled the exams,” Ron exclaimed, not for the first time. He’d been incredulous about it since dinner, and Hermione knew he would have easily dropped it and moved on if she just did the same; she always knew that, and yet whenever it came to Ron she couldn’t seem to put that theory into practice.

As such, she found herself responded a touch haughtily, “Well, not that you’d know but some of us appreciate the opportunity to see if we’ve understood the lessons.”

“One of us, you mean,” he returned easily, looking to the armchair to his right—oh, but Harry had abandoned them ages ago, said he might as well start packing as soon as listen to them carrying on. Ron shrugged it off easily enough.

“Not as if the last bit of term was all that useful for learning,” he continued. “What with the Chamber and all. What if Snape had put all the stuff we learned while you were out on the exam?”

Hermione stiffened. Of all the insensitive things to say! “You think I don’t know I missed lessons? That I missed a whole part of my life?”

Ron went completely pale. “Come off it, Hermione, you know I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I was only trying to cheer you up,” he insisted. “I was only saying it wouldn’t have been fair for them to test you on things you hadn’t learned!”

“And I suppose I’ll never be tested again since I’m so far behind? Is that right?” Ron had no answer; clearly, he was unprepared for this question. She laughed, though it was bitter and cruel. “Well then, I think you’d better stop trying to cheer me up!” She left him gaping in the common room, and fled to the safety of the girl’s dorms. Lavender and Parvati were nowhere to be found, which she could only be grateful for, as she found her eyes welling up with tears.

Why did Ron always have to go and say such stupid things without thinking? Well, he had been thinking, of course, only not carefully enough. He’d had to go and remind her of just what a setback her time being petrified had been.

Hermione valued few things more than her grades, and the knowledge that she was at a disadvantage to her peers had been eating away at her. How was she supposed to complete the summer assignments without the previous lessons? And then their third year assignments after that? How was she ever supposed to catch up?

It wasn’t as if Ron had been teasing her over it, though. And of course he’d realized what she’d missed; his own sister had lost whole months of time to a memory of You-Know-Who which Hermione was only beginning to understand. She didn’t have it nearly as bad as Ginny.

Oh, what if she’d just gone and made him angry with her in turn? She hadn’t meant to quarrel before they left school! Perhaps if she greeted him cordially at breakfast and didn’t pick any fight on the train back to Kings Cross, it would all blow over. The approaching summer holiday always put Ron in better spirits, after all. He’d still have to write, wouldn’t he?

Hermione retired to bed, though her sleep was fitful and full of strange, fragmentary dreams of her standing outside a locked train compartment watching Ron and Harry and the other Weasleys talk and laugh together, and Professor McGonagall looming over her desk with a report card lined with nothing but Dreadfuls.

Somehow, she still managed to rise later than either of her dorm mates, who’d left without her for the Leaving Feast. Hermione hurried to dress and put the final touches on her packing, hopeful that with a full meal in him, Ron would have forgotten the whole fight.

But to her shock, she found the redhead not in the Great Hall, but waiting in the same armchair as last night. He stood just as she cleared the stairs.

“Where’s Harry?”

“I, er, said I’d catch him up.” He was holding something behind his back. “Listen, I thought about what you said last night. And I thought, er, maybe you could use this over the summer.”

He held a whole, messy sheaf of parchment out for her to take. Hermione approached slowly, noticing the one consistent trait about the whole haphazardly gathered stack was that it was covered in his scrawl.

“It’s my notes from the classes you missed.” She looked up at him in shock. “They’re not near as good as yours would be,” he hastened to add, tugging at the collar of his robes agitatedly. “The readings would probably do you better. I wrote down what we were assigned—”

“Oh, Ron!” Hermione couldn’t possibly contain herself. She threw her arms about him. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself; his hands patted first her shoulder, then her back.

“Oh, that’s alright,” he blustered. “One of us has to know what the teachers are going on about next term.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “You can have my notes then,” she promised.

Pulling away, Hermione saw his whole face had turned a bright pink that was only just beginning to fade. “That’s not exactly a fair trade, is it?”

Hermione shook her head and clutched his notes to her chest, though privately she agreed; she would never tell Ron, but the wrinkled pile meant all the world to her.

anonymous asked:

hey i wonder if i am the first to ask for something if i am, luckyyyy. anyways since this is fresh blog which i will enjoy can your do a scenario where bakugou accidentally hits his s/o and how he will make up for it?

; you’re the second but close enough ♥  


That was the word that perfectly defined Katsuki Bakugou. From his quirk to his personality, everything fell under that definition. His aggressive nature can also be observed from his battles as he mercilessly brings about destruction to anything that gets in his way.

He had shoved you hard enough that you landed smack onto the ground. The two of you had gotten into a heated argument, and everything just happened so fast. Truth be told, the violent gesture didn’t really come as a surprise, judging from his personality, but it still hurt you inside. The throbbing pain from your back was dulled by the sharp pain you felt in your heart. The both of you had countless quarrels before, but he never once laid a finger on you. 

It only took him two seconds before he realized he fucked up.

Dropping onto his knees, he gently brushed your bangs away from your face, crimson eyes meeting your own. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I… I don’t know what fucking came over me.” Bakugou reached over in an attempt to pull you closer, but his arm came into a halt when he felt you flinch. “I know that there’s no excuse for what I did, I’m just a fuckin’ shitty person. But I’m trying so damn hard to become a better person for you. I’d rather beat myself up than ever hurt you again. Just hit me as hard as you can right now, I deserv-”

You cut him off with a soft peck on the lips. 

Bakugou was brutal on the battlefield, but he was also always brutally honest. You knew that he’d never go back on his word.

may 2nd, 1536

 She was sewing with her ladies when they came for her.

    Sleep had not come the night before, warded off by the sense of foreboding brought on by the King’s sudden departure from the jousts that day. He had left without even sparing her a glance, leaving Anne to smile through her unease as she bid for the tournament to continue. 

     Even more ominous were the whispers that Mark Smeaton and Henry Norris had both been arrested. Two men that she had considered to be close friends; the latter someone who she had only days before quarreled with publicly using some ill-chosen words. It was all but impossible for her not to feel the noose tightening around her own neck.

    And so when the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk arrived in her chambers, arrest warrant in hand, she was somewhat prepared. She calmly bid her ladies to help her with her cloak, thus allowing her to conceal the fact that her hands were trembling. There was no use in resisting, she knew, if this was Henry’s own will. Long ago she had learned that what the King of England wanted, he would have, regardless of the cost.

    What he wanted now was Jane Seymour (and the son he was convinced that sop could provide him). But there could not be allowed to be two queens; not this time. Anne would have to go.

    She was pale-faced and silent as she boarded the royal barge under guard, morosely aware of the contrast between this trip to the Tower and her last. Before she was being ushered towards a glorious future; now all that awaited her on the other side of the Thames was bleak uncertainty. The creaking of the gate, Traitor’s Gate, as it lifted to let them pass was enough to make her shiver.

    Her legs felt wobbly as she stepped from the barge onto the slick stones of the Tower wharf. It was only through sheer force of will that she managed to make it as far as the steps that led both up to the royal apartments and down to the dungeons before collapsing. Whether it was more out of fear or out of relief upon learning that she is to be lodged in state, she did not know. All she could cry was, “It is too good for me. Jesus have mercy on me.”

    For surely the King would not.

Dispelling the Myth of the "Boston Massacre" - The Night of March 5, 1770

18thcenturylove: Gather around kids, and let me tell you something about the Boston Massacre… (if you’re not American, you can keep scrolling, it’s ok)

On the night of March 5, 1770, a squad of British soldiers, part of the 29th regiment stationed in Boston, fired their weapons at a hostile mob of colonists in King Street. Five people were killed and at the moment of their deaths were raised to martyr status for the revolutionary cause. Shortly after, the soldiers and their captain were arrested, imprisoned, and put on trial for murder and conspiracy. However, the commander of the troops in Boston believed that his men had been deliberately provoked. Although he was not a Loyalist, Counsel for the Prisoners John Adams (yes that John Adams) supported this argument and believed the blame lay more on the civilians involved than on the soldiers. For John Adams, the “Boston Massacre” was the justifiable product of an attack upon a group of eight recognizably young, inexperienced, armed soldiers by a considerably large crowd of violent, combative, unarmed civilians.

It was earlier that evening that Capt John Goldfinch was accosted by a disorderly apprentice and this disrespect had angered Hugh White, a private in the 29th Regiment. White later encountered this man and after lecturing him for his behavior, was only answered with insult. Private White then struck the man causing a small crowd to form. During the trial, witness Samuel Clark testified that while he was not present at the shooting, he had spoken to White only moment prior to the incident. Instead of appearing agitated, White had politely asked him “how we all did at home,” which may be proof that White did not have any particular formulations in mind before the quarrel.

The crowd as it gathered to further accost Private White was, at the moment, totaled at about thirty people. Some threw snowballs and oyster shells and other carried staves. Witness Edward Langford testified that at this time, he told several boys in the crowd to leave the sentry alone and knew even then that “something would come of this.” This statement alone John Adams believed proved that “he thought there was danger, or at least the sentinel in fact was terrified and did think himself in danger.” Out of fear, White called for support with six grenadiers arriving in response. Langford stated that he was unable to hear Private White give the call for assistance although being “pretty loud,” yet was somehow able to later hear Captain Preston give the supposed order to fire. Despite this contradiction in testimony, Langford admits that the soldiers did not appear to have taken specific aim at any of the victims. This provided further ground for disregarding the idea of British premeditation.

There were now a total of 8 soldiers, including Capt Preston, who were becoming increasingly anxious as the crowd grew to over a hundred. Amid the confusion, three townspeople drew near Capt Preston, among them Theodore Bliss, who dared the soldiers to shoot. It was immediately after, as Ebenezer Bridgeham testified, that “ice or snow” was thrown and that the “guns were struck several times,” with clubs and sticks. Witness James Bailey also declared he saw several members “heaving pieces of ice, large and hard enough to hurt any man, as big as your fist.” In a tragic twist, what might have been a ball of ice was thrown from the crowd and struck the muzzle of Private Montgomery’s musket. Prompted by the resulting misfire, the other soldiers fired into the crowd, killing five people.

As John Adams defended the soldiers and addressed the court, a man had to be “divested of all human passions if you do not think him at the least provoked, thrown off guard or thrown in to the fury, by such treatment as this.” Regardless of the atmosphere in Boston, the law was clear that if a man, whether he was a soldier or civilian, felt himself endangered, he had the right to kill in self-defense. Taking into account an assault of this scale and the instability of the testimonies of the prosecuting witnesses, six of the soldiers were declared innocent but two were convicted of manslaughter for identified to have fired directly into the crowd. They were given the reduced sentence of having their thumbs branded in open court.

However, this is not to say that the extreme actions by the Bostonians were premeditated, but by calling the victims of the “massacre” a “mob.” John Adams insisted that the jury face the reality of what had occurred. Despite how traitorous this accusation appeared to his peers, he proved that this one particular Boston crowd was dangerous, but not a reflection of Boston as a whole. As much at fault as any of the individuals was the law itself, or at least popular notions about the law: 1) the 18th c. legal theory that made political mobs quasi-legal 2) the contemporary constitution that entrusted the keeping of the peace to soldiers without giving them authority to employ force 3) the legal misconception widely held in Boston that the king’s troops could never fire upon British subjects.

:قال رسول ال صلى ال عليه وآله وصحبه وسلم
 أبْغَضُ الرجال إل الله الألَدّ الَخصِم رواه البخاري ومسلم.

The Messenger of God ﷺ said:
“The most abhorrent of men before God is the obstinate quarreller”.
Narrated by Bukhari and Muslim

Read / download the full transcript here.

Made with SoundCloud
Detained ; Peter Maximoff x Reader

Title: Detained

Words: 2,303

Fandom: Marvel (X-Men)

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader (Fox Version so, Peter)

Summary: Consuming of food inside the girls bathroom during class hours with a silver haired boy may lead to detention.

Warning/s: A swear word or two??  And slightly bad fluff (honestly not even fluff??)

Legend: Y/N - Your Name


You sat down on a chair far away the silver haired boy and began to write a five hundred word essay about the book Don Quixote of Miguel de Cervantes. You had to do something for the next hour to not allow the boredom seep into your system. Plus, this homework was due tomorrow, at least get it done so when this unnecessary torture was over, you could go straight to bed at home and rest. And maybe pretend this day didn’t go bad as it was.

     The sight of students rushing to go home and going to their respective practices were displayed through the glass windows on the left side of the room you were detained in.

     It was only you and Peter today in the detention room.

     Correction: It was only you and Peter being detained today.

     Mrs. Marble was the other person in the room. She was supposed to look after the both of you but she somehow managed to fall asleep while reading a trashy magazine.

     God, you had to endure an extra hour in school because of Pietro- sorry, he preferred Peter-Maximoff. You hardly even knew that guy besides the fact he has a peculiar vibe going on around him- silver hair, alabaster skin, leather jacket that was silver, headphones around his neck, some wicked pair of silver shoes… And that he can get handsy on somethings. No, not in that kinky manner (but who knows how kinky can this dude go?)  but in the sense of kleptomania.

     Your head turned around to sneak a peak of him. He sat on the far side corner of the room in his black shirt that was overlaid with his jacket, his seemingly unnatural hair colour covered by a kids party hat.

     He brought out a pack of Twinkies and some cafeteria stolen goods (a box of red velvet cake, tater tots, pizza, mac and cheese, some sloppy joe).

     Is this dude nuts? You both got this punishment because of his love to get things that weren’t his and he’s going to eat them here?

     You mentally applaud him. It took guts to do that crap he’s doing and he brought irony to this situation you guys were in. It puzzled your mind though on how he managed to get the food… Weren’t they confiscated from him?

     He must’ve felt your gaze on him. Peter looked up from his act of opening the package of Twinkies. He gave you a shiteating grin and waved, Twinkie still in hand and the box of pizza on his desk. You quickly looked away- not before turning your eyes into slits that made you look weird but it was the only menacing looking you could muster -and busied yourself with the paper in front of you. A blush started to creep on your cheeks but you mentally willed yourself to let it fade because despite of him being cute with his rainbow party hat and grin, he still gave you the first detention of your life.

     Soon enough you could smell the scent of pizza and Twinkie wafting. The pen left ink as it moved on the paper just like the smell of pizza was seducing your stomach to eat itself inside out because of its mouthwatering aroma.

     You prayed to the heavens you wouldn’t go hungry because you told yourself earlier to not talk to Peter. As aforementioned, the both of you were here because of those sexy stolen food.

     During fourth period World Literature earlier this day, you had gotten out of class to head to the bathroom for a time kill. Literature wasn't that terrible but your teacher’s voice was monotone and sleep inducing, you asked for permission to head out to the comfort room.

     "You look like a zombie,“ a voice had broken the silence that blanketed the empty halls.

     The voice belonged to a mischievous looking teenager, leaning against the cream coloured wall in the middle of the doors to the bathrooms.

     Your siblings had been teasing you that you look like trash but a zombie? Did this unknown dude have to put it out there that there were unflattering black under your eyes?

     You ignored him and moved closer to the bathroom that was labeled for females. A pale arm suddenly blocked your way.

    “Aw, you’re gonna ignore me, princess? You seriously are a zombie. Not even acknowledging my presence.”

     The princess comment went completely ignored, you calmly replied to him with your own question, “Is your presence even needed to be acknowledged?”

     His pink lips had formed a smirk before mumbling something fast that you could not decipher.

     ’Whatever, willowy dude. Your thoughts aren’t worth a penny.’ You had thought at that moment. You pushed him away to enter the comfort room.

     The door swung open as you turned the knob. You stepped inside, hoping the guy would bugger off.

     No such luck because the guy had slipped inside as the door started to swing close, in a world record breaking time.

     “But how…?” You started to question as he unexpectedly had food along with him.

    “Oh, sush.  Count your blessings, princess,” he waved his arm around like he was swatting a fly. There was a lot of food with him including a cake that said “Happy Birthday, Wilson!” which was the principal’s name. The food was suddenly placed all over the counter.

    “This is the girl’s bathroom…” you lamely had said to him.

     "So? I have goggles and my hair’s silver?“ He retorted and calmly produced a knife and sliced the cake. Has it been mentioned earlier? You must have forgotten. Peter had goggles with him and he claims he has it with him at all times.

     “Right… Water is wet.” You nodded at him, staring as he cut the cake in a quick, even hand gestures.

     “Bingo, correct-o, princess” he replied after licking some icing that got on his hand. The knife he had with him was gone in thin air. You tried looking for the knife nonchalantly but failed. Shock and curiosity was written all over you face. Peter noticed it but only chuckled at you then swiftly took the tool he placed on the school’s kitchen how many milliseconds ago.

     A slice of cake was on left hand and the knife was on his right hand. You looked at him astonished but quickly shook your head.

     “I am hallucinating. God.” You convinced yourself. Like, this dude had silver hair? Isn’t that a large neon warning sign for you by now? Maybe he made you sniff some drugs that kidnappers use to put the victim out of cautiousness or maybe, ecstasy? You haven’t eaten anything from his array of goodies.

     “This is wonderland alright, princess.” He smirked at you. A black baseball cap was adorning his head at that time instead of a kid’s party hat.  Despite that your cheeks was tinted pink you managed to spit out, “Stop calling me that,” to the interesting guy in front of you.

     “Princess?” He asked you.

      “Yeah, jerk. And get out of here. We might get into trouble.” The time kill you intended was short and brief not a long one but it doesn’t matter. You were sick of monotonous voices and pinching yourself to wake up. Was this skipping classes? You had the pass, though. You technically weren’t cutting classes.

     “Why would like another nickname?”

      You still were contemplating on whether or not this comfort room lounging past time was considered to be violating school rules when he continued talking, “Hm, honey? No, what about sugar? Cupcake?”

     “Nah… sweetcheeks?” he paused and then laughed so hard he look like a maniac because you know… knife on his right hand and all.

      “Sweetcheeks reminds me of buttcheeks and assholes.” He continued to laugh. This got your attention and honestly made you worry about this boy who confirmed that he was quite odd and frankly, you found out you didn’t mind because it was kind of a fresh air.

     “What about eggs?” You deadpanned and then mentioned to him that he was going to a route of food related nicknames and down the rabbit hole.

     “Oohhh! You could be Alice; I’ll be the Mad Hatter.” He grinned at you. The silver haired boy took a bite of the birthday cake which you are now sure that belonged to the principal.

      He offered you the bitten cake and out of your “lacking judgment”, you took it and easily munched on the chocolate-y goodness. The principal may be bitter about some things all the time but his taste in cake sure was sweet.

      “Pietro,” he introduced himself to you as a second (third?) bite was executed to the chocolate cake.

      “Well… Actually don’t call me that. Call me Peter, or Pete,”

      A hand was outstretched to you… A pale right hand minus the knife. Once again, you scanned the room on where the hell could the knife be but you simply let the notion of checking every stall go for the principal’s chocolate cake was so. good.

     You swallowed the cake and replied with, “Y/N.”

     You extended your left hand to him which was mildly covered with frosting as that was the hand with the cake earlier. The cake now took residence to your right hand.

      Peter shook your frosting covered hand after commenting loudly, “The zombie has a name!” and gave a firm shake.

     “I’m actually pretty disappointed that you aren’t Alice, though.”

     "Scramble now, Peter. We’re gonna get caught soon because of your boisterous voice.“

     He faced you with a lazy grin. "My voice? Boisterous? Get real,” he said really loudly like megaphone was built in his voice box.

     "You took my slice of cake. Show some gratitude, Alice.“

     A poker face was thrown to his way when he those words had escaped his lips.

      "Peter, get out. Seriously. Gratitude my ass, we’re gonna be in trouble because of you.”

     You had a little quarrel before the Principal, Mr. Wilson the birthday boy, caught the two of you. A stern glare was sent your way when he opened the bathroom door.

     Your face had chocolate frosting in it despite the fact the food magically disappeared. You were pretty sure Principal Wilson had now the idea where his missing food had gone. But you so were not going to let this one drop; you were going to ask Peter about the disappearing trick he keeps on pulling.

     “Ahh, happy birthday?” Peter had exclaimed and lamely threw his hands in the air.

     Well, you guess it wasn’t entirely Peter’s fault but whatever.

      You were already tired of writing the essay. The clock behind the sleeping figure of the detention moderator read 3:45 PM.

      It only has been fifteen fucking minutes? Fifteen minutes passed by and the only thing you wrote on the leaf of paper was your name, date, and the title of your essay, Knighthood: Don Quixote’s Dying Goal, which was pretty dumb but meh.

     You were grateful the principal gave you a short detention, though.

      Paper balls flew across the room hitting your neck. Unless it was a spiritual entity, you were pretty sure it was Peter doing this.

     Maybe Peter was a spiritual entity! How else could you explain the weird vanishing things?

     He threw more little crumple wads of paper. You didn’t mind him and stared at your essay.

     What would you write about Don Quixote? Should you write if who was fooled, Don Quixote or the people who jokingly knighted him?

      You dumbly stared at your paper, letting your hand draw scribbles on the sheet of the intermediate pad.

     This was getting boring. It was only eighteen minutes to your punishment and it was becoming tiring.

     "You know,“ Peter’s loud raspy voice announced. "If I had to choose to spend an entire day with you and stung by five hundred bees forty eight times to death…”

     You looked at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

     "I’d choose spending time with you although you’re a boring zombie. Bees scare the living shit of me.“ He shivered at the thought of getting stung by multiple bees, multiple times.

     You laughed at Peter and his confession.

     "Hey, don’t be mean.” He fake pouted.

     "Don’t worry, if I had to spend an entire day with you and cursed numerous times by Lord Voldemort…“

     Peter looked expectantly at you with his pouted lips.

     He looked absolutely ridiculous with a party hat on and those pouted lips… Just like a kid. Well, he seemed to be childish.

     "I’d pick being hexed by Voldemort because hashtag goals, man!” You said a little louder than you meant. Mrs. Marble moved in her seat, still asleep, though.

     "What? Ugh, Y/N, you are so mean.“

      You only gave him an imaginary tip of your hat.

     "If I had to choose to spend an entire day with you and drown in the River Styx, I’d pick the latter.” He stuck out his tongue at you.

     "That’s unfair! I wanna come along!“ you exclaimed at his selfishness.

     "But you’re mean,” he said in a kiddie manner. “Also, I would give you my party hat but like I said you’re mean so you have to deal with tipping imaginary hats!”

     You glanced at the white clock that hung above.

      3:52 PM.

     ’The remaining thirty eight minutes would pass by quickly.’ You thought as you turned your whole body around to face him without breaking your neck and preparing yourself for thirty eight minutes of food and childish banter in the detention room. Plus, you still have to ask him if he was a wizard or some sorts because how he was so fast or made things go away into thin air?

     This was going to be one of hell of a party in the detention room.


Note: Ahhh, I found this on the laptop as I was making a report for school and I just had to post it! I remember writing this one but I completely forgot to post it. Here’s my first Peter Maximoff fanfic! Sorry if he’s OOC, this is my first fic of him. Also this slightly au (because modern setting and all) I love Quicky so much & I’m writing another fic about him (as well as bby Jaybird, I actually have so many drafts to post!) (;

-Mika the Fangirl x

Ivlis/Satanick comics guide (UPDATED)

I was looking at Mogeko page and I thought I can write it down. So here are all comics creating (or presumably creating) the current Ivlis/Satanick story.

1. (URL name: Disordered Love part 1 / comic list name: Pathetic Man) - the introduction. Starts with Satanick in a “box of shame”, thinking about his feelings toward Ivlis, ends with famous splitting roses scene

2. (URL name: Everlasting love / comic list name: Unfortunate Man) - chronologically can take place after Disordered Love part 1. It’s an alternative bad end in which Satanick goes mad because of his feelings for Ivlis and finally kills him. Contains Fumus the Asshole as a guest.

3. (URL name: Disordered Love pt. 2 / comic list name: Splitting Lies) - Satanick is sick and dying, his underlings worry about him. After many dramatic ups and downs, it ends with Satanick accepting his feeling and telling Ivlis that he loves him. We know drama.

4. (URL name: The power of wife / comic list name: Rainbow) - Satanick is feeling worse and worse until the best queen of hell comes to rescue. Lil is great, really. 

5. (URL name: I love you / comic list name: The truth) - starts funny with Satanick asking 4545-kun about Ivlis, then is not so funny because Siralos appears. Focus on how many problems Ivlis has with himself. Satanick is optimistic and wanna win his heart. RIP.

6. (URL name&comic list name: Nightmare) - Licorice has a bad dream and wants to sleep with Ivlis, Ivlis has bad dreams too. It’s family fluff and nobody can believe it.

7. (URL name: Son / comic list name: Like father, like son) - a story about Licorice and all the problems he has with himself. We were so naive believing that anyone raised by Satanick and Ivlis can be normal

8. (URL name: Danger / comic list name: Dangerous Night) - was originally a part of the previous story but Mogeko decided to split it into two parts because this one is 18+. Licorice has even more problems with himself than before. 

9. (URL name: Quarrel / comic list name: Envi and Licorice) - the last page, empty by now. Probably will focus on, wow, Envi and Licorice. Hard to say when it will take place, we will see. I’m scared of it but I guess now we’re gonna see how many problems Envi has with himself!

Reprieve: From Gallifrey to Trenzalore

(This is the story of the Master regenerating into Missy. I figured I should put it in the internet before we see Moffat’s version)

Chapter One. Regeneration.

The Master was dying. He knew the feeling well, having died several times previously. He had, in fact, been quite dead not too long ago because he had refused to regenerate simply to spite his arch-enemy and best friend, the Doctor.

They had been like brothers once, long ago, before they had quarrelled over the fate of their world. Like Romulus and Remus before they claimed their future empire. Children of the ravined wolf at the centre of time. It was a pattern that had been echoed across the centuries from Holmes and Moriarty, to Jean Valjean and Javert, Banquo and Macbeth… But the Master liked to believe he had been the original. The original foil against which the darling gem of the world had been set.

He had a vague notion that he had left something unravelled that his much-despisèd love, most foul, most fair, would, in his desperate heroism, find somewhat incommodius. But he could not quite remember what it had been. He figured it did not really matter.

He had died for the Doctor, sacrificing his last vestiges of energy carrying out his friend’s will. There had been a definite shift in the dynamic of their interaction towards the end. The Master had begun agreeing with whatever the Doctor said and the other Time Lord was practically reduced to arguing with himself. And where had that gotten the Master? Here. Back on Gallifrey. In a cell that remained cold and dark despite the customary heat of the planet’s climate. Abandoned by his only friend and greatest enemy.

It was only a matter of time now.

The Master smiled a crazy little smile. Wasn’t it always?

For the first time since he was eight years old, the Master was free of the relentless all-consuming rhythm that had filled every corner of his mind. He had the Doctor to thank for that, and at the moment he genuinely wished he could thank him.

The silence was disconcerting. He was reminded of a line from an ancient prophecy he had once heard, ‘silence will fall when the question is asked.’ Could it mean his silence? Silence after centuries of torment?

He listened. All he could hear was the drip of water on the stone floor, the whistling of wind across the outer wall and the beating of his two hearts. Too fast. Too irregular. It wouldn’t be long now.

The Master curled himself into a ball, scrunched against the wall as though bracing himself against the cold wind, or physical pain. He gazed out at the orange sky and twin moons. Moons that he knew in a short while would be nothing but dust drifting through space, destroyed by Dalek crossfire.

The Master didn’t know where or when he was in relation to the Time War, but calculating his approximate latitude from the constellations that were just becoming visible in the darkening sky, and judging from the uncomfortable cold he was nearer the end of the war. Their weapons systems were draining energy from the very heat within the atmosphere.

His vision began to darken around the edges. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain. One of his hearts had stopped. Then the molecular structure of every cell in his body disintegrated and all he knew was the most exquisite agony.

Koschei collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. The first thing the heir of Oakdown became aware of was the thick swathes of dark hair that tumbled in every direction. So, not blond anymore, then. Next Koschei pushed the dark hair aside and knelt to examine the reflection in a puddle of rainwater on the floor of the cell. She was a woman. Koschei raised an eyebrow, watching her reflection curiously. This was new. She shrugged.

First order of business is to get out of here. The destruction of the planet was imminent. The destruction of the planet by her best beloved, she reminded herself. Imminent, of course, was relative.

‘Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps at such a petty pace from day-to-day, to the last syllable of recorded time,’ she whispered. Was she Scottish? She was Scottish. She shivered. The last syllable of recorded time.The end of all that is. They had stood there, together, at the end of the universe. On the very precipice of the edge of knowledge. New order of business, she thought, find the Doctor.

She glanced at her reflection again, distractedly. I guess I’m the Mistress now. Hmm. Mistress. Missy. I like Missy. I’ll be Missy. I’ll need a hat. Hats are important. And a dress, something Victorian. I’m a Time Lady now. The one you left behind, the one you left for dead. She laughed gleefully, because obviously that applied to the Doctor’s entire species.

Missy scanned the entire circumference of the room. She glared at the iron padlock on the door. Then she thought of something. Magnifique. Wait. Why am I speaking French? The Doctor like French. He randomly inserts it into sentences. Why am I having a conversation with myself? It’s because you’re narrating in stream-of-consciousness. Also you’re bananas. Bananas is good. He said bananas are good, not bananas is good. There’s a difference.

She returned her attention to the door. Or attempted to. Gallifrey was a low-density planet and towards the end of the Time War almost all mineral resources were going to the army to fight the Daleks. Which led her to believe… She punched the lock. It crumpled. Not iron. Some other alloy. She had broken her hand, but that didn’t matter. First fifteen hours of regeneration cycle, ne c’est pas? Think in Gallifreyan, woman. Or have you spent too much time on precious little Earth?

Missy considered the possibility of that she might simply be able to stroll out of the prison without being stopped, but she considered that it might be best to keep to the shadows. And there were a lot of shadows on Gallifrey. The Shining World of the Seven Systems? A romantic fool’s false nomenclature. The most literal translation of ‘Gallifrey’ had always been ‘They Who Walk In The Shadows.’ And that was what they became. They learned to step through the shadow-space, to pass through time unnoted. Or at least some of them had learned.

Missy stepped into the shadows.

Prompt #687 that I desperately want to write but probably never will okay so I sorta half-assed it anyway:

Dean figures out Lucifer is possessing Cas. “Ding, ding, ding, tell him what he’s won, Johnny!” Lucifer proceeds to ream Dean for all the shit he’s put Cas through; how he failed to be there when Cas needed him most; how he’s just a really bad fucking friend. And not because Lucifer actually gives a shit about Cas. It’s because now that Lucifer is inside of Cas, he can sense all those feelings Cas has for Dean—that wretched, stupid, hairless ape; the very kind that his father ordered him to bow down to—and he despises Cas for it.

But the kicker? “And you don’t even know the half of it, Dean-o. You remember Naomi? Do you even know what she did to Cas? What she made him do?”

“You mean when she turned him into a holy robo-assassin and sicced him on me? Yeah, kinda hard to forget.”

“Oh, Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, you ignorant slut. I’m talking about before your little lovers’ quarrel—when he was sent to reboot camp.”

Lucifer snaps his fingers, and suddenly, the two of them are in a dimly-lit warehouse. Dean freezes when he spots his clone with gun cocked, searching the shadows for something…or someone.

“You, uh…might want to keep back. This’ll get messy.”

Out of nowhere, Cas strikes with his angel blade, and Dean watches in horror as he hears himself beg for his life right before Cas drives the stake through his clone’s heart.

“But…that—that never happened. The hell is this?”

“It’s a dummy, dummy.” Lucifer walks up to the dead clone, kicking it. “You know that Naomi specifically had him trained to kill you and only you, right?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He knew the part about the bitch brainwashing Cas to kill him, but…just him? Why him? Why does he even matter?

“I have to give him credit, though; Castiel was one tough nut to crack. Or more like nuts. As in, for you. From what I hear, he was quite the little project. First week of training, all he did was curl up into the fetal position. Couldn’t even look at you without getting all snivel-y and snot-nosed about it. And to think he used to be one of heaven’s greatest generals. Pathetic, really, the effect you’ve had on him.”

Dean stares at Lucifer, too scared to ask what’s hiding behind that smug bastard’s face.

“Do you know how many you’s Naomi made him kill before your real showdown?”

“How many?” Dean finally croaks.

Lucifer snaps his fingers again. The warehouse lights flicker on one-by-one. Revealing a dozen more dead clones. Then hundreds.

Then thousands.

“I’d ask if you even meant it, those three little words, but truth is, it doesn’t matter.” 

He looks at Dean, twisting Cas’ lips into a grin that isn’t Cas at all.

“Because you’ll never see your precious angel again.”

The devil snaps out. Leaving Dean to contemplate what never was.

And what never will be.

Replace VI Novel Ch 3 旅立ちの時 (Time of Departure) English Translation Part 1 of 3 (Touou and Kaijo Graduation)

New chapter!!

The time of graduation has finally arrived, and with the exception of Seirin, we get a glimpse of how the teams send off their senpais! First off is Touou and Kaijou! 

Next update: Time of Departure Part 2 (Feat Yosen, Rakuzan, and Shuutoku)

I should just rename this chapter as “Prepare for the feels Part 1″

Keep reading

An Unexpected Yuletide

Imagine your Christmas dinner is interrupted by Thorin’s company as unexpected guests.

 Chapter One: Under Their Own Steam

         The Sheriff of Hobbiton, Artemis Took, strolled in through the open front door of their new blacksmith’s smithy.

           It wasn’t every town in the Shire that could boast having a Dwarrow blacksmith, let alone an apprentice of the Master Blacksmith, but Artemis wished they had come by young Fili’s services in a less tragic way.

“Good morning, Mr. Fili! How’s that metal leg you made yourself holding up in this cold  weather?”

Fili looked up from his work, with a cheerful smile.

He seemed genuinely happy, in Hobbiton, especially with his new wife, and that was somehow more heartbreaking to Artemis than if the poor brave lad had been miserable.

“It’s a bit creaky. But as long as I keep on it, and I keep those gyro-gears moving? Me leg ought to keep steaming along.”

Fili and the Sheriff both laughed at his joke.

Artemis Took was one of Belladonna Took’s brothers, the only one who lived in Hobbiton. In his sister’s stead, Artemis had determined to make things as right as he could for these two young  people since Belladonna Baggins had returned from her long journey with her new husband.

Bella had arrived in the middle of the auction of her property, with the older of the Master Blacksmith’s nephews.

Young Fili had gained quite a bit of experience in life, and a wife, but he was missing his Uncle, his brother, and his left leg below the knee.

But Dwarves were a stoic lot and all Tooks are tough.

It wasn’t long before the lad bought a piece of land on the main street, and built a smithy.

Even those who suspected he might not have been as good a smith as his Uncle, when they found out that Fili had designed and made his mechanical leg, all under his own steam?

They decided they could trust him with their business.

But, as their first Yuletide in Hobbiton approached, Artemis knew that Bella and Fili would keenly be feeling the absence of family.

Keep reading

Matsumoto Junko Interview (hide’s mother) part 3/?

Rock=delinquency seems to be the image that parents of that time felt, I think.

Yes that’s right.  Since I told him that he must never go to Dobuita[1], I thought that Hideto had obeyed me.  Unless he got good grades, I said he was forbidden from playing the guitar or anything like that, and so, so that I couldn’t tell him that, he studied as if his life depended on it.  Even when he went to high school that didn’t change.  So on those grounds, he studied hard, and so I never once said that [that he was forbidden to play guitar] to that boy.  However, he did frequent Dobuita though (laugh).

Did hide have a subject that he was best at?

He had mentioned that more than calculation, he liked essay questions.  He said that he liked this kind of thing best.  He seemed like the kind of person who liked to prove another person wrong or win an argument right (laugh).  That boy would write until his paper became completely black to memorize something.  He used that way to study.

hide would become completely absorbed into music while doing his studies however.

First, his appearance changed.  Straight jeans and things like that, he bought several of the same thing.  When people looked at him, they got the impression that he was wearing the same thing day and night, so sometimes I would say ‘how about wearing a different color?’ or something, but he insisted, “I don’t care what people say, I’m fine, so it’s fine.”

I wonder if the people reading this right now had parents who advised them the same thing?

There were also things like holes in his jeans pants too; because you know in my time, there wasn’t such things like holes in your pants.  Furthermore, that boy had drawn things on his shirts too.  Torn necklines, holes, shortened lengths of his clothes[2] and things like that … … .  Well you see, all those things, when that boy was in school, I would throw them all away.

AHAHA (laugh).  Did he become enraged?

No… …, he was silent.  He didn’t speak to me (laugh).  He would do things like put up Kiss and The Clash posters in his room (laugh).  In the beginning I would think he was mad, but then it seemed like he gave up being mad, but he’d silently put up the Kiss poster again.  It was this kind of repetition.

Hiroshi said that when he came home from school, his older brother and his mother were always quarrelling but, the reason must be what you said before right?

We never quarreled! (laugh).  But, for Hideto, even if it were drills [for homework], he’d open up the page for that day’s exercises and put it on his desk and do them diligently, but Hiroshi would close his drill book, and so as to not be discovered, he went outside to play (laugh).

[1] Dobuita was a street that hide frequented in his hometown (Yokosuka).  It was here that he said he learned about music, alcohol and women lol

[2] I think she’s trying to say hide would cut the lengths of his shirts/pants shorter.