#I might be back with more thoughts later cause I feel like I couldn't recall everything I had written previously

[kurisus]

Chapter 104 thoughts

I'm back from posting purgatory and have rewritten, more or less, what Tumblr deleted, so now it's time for my favorite game: Ina Tries To Figure Out What The Fuck Happened In The Latest Noragami Chapter. Spoilers under the cut.

So at the beginning we see trash dad cut himself free from Fujisaki and revert to his original form, while Fujisaki wakes up in Yukine's old house, far from home. I'm really interested to see how much he knows, which I said last time--whether he was aware he was being used or if he's basically been unconscious for the past year. I think he has to be aware on some level, because he knows Father's true name and has to invoke it to summon him from Yomi, but it would also be funny if he flies into a panic, follows the newly created lake, and ends up with the main cast. How far are they from the house, anyway?

Come to think of it, I've been reading Alive since last month (Adachitoka's first manga, which was written by their mentor while they drew the art) and while I'm not done yet, the north of Japan features prominently as a setting for that story and as the final showdown for this one. I'm not sure why, maybe they're from there, but it's interesting.

I'm so glad Yato slammed into trash dad after he insulted Mizuchi. It shows he does recognize her as a victim, and is willing to let things mend between them, since she's had her own character arc since Yato released her name. Don't get me wrong, that was still the right choice for him at the time--but they've both changed since then. And I always love the character development in this manga so this had me bouncing in my seat.

YATO ALSO SAYING HE'S NOTHING BUT A DEAD PERSON LIKE YESSSSSS GET HIM GET HIM KILL HIS MISERABLE ASS

Ahem. I wish Yato had been able to land at least one punch on this horrible man, but it's time for a shounen powerup.

Using the koto no ha on himself grants trash dad access to Izanami/Izanagi level powers, which I think is a temporary powerup that will end with Izanami taking him back to Yomi, because of how he can "feel her breath" on his neck. He plans to then escape again, and possess another body.

This new power is an ass pull as fast-moon put it, but it's also not the first of its kind in Noragami. Think back to Yukine getting cut in half and becoming a hafuri, Amaterasu appearing out of nowhere to give Hiyori the hint that saved Yato's life in Yomi, and how the main characters were saved from the covenant which provided the entire basis for the current arc (due to unresolved tensions between them and the rest of heaven). Basically, in Noragami these things happen with good reason and/or hugely impact the rest of the story, so I think it's best to wait and see how this trash dad development plays out before making judgments on how it affects the writing quality.

There's an old Noragami theory that Father is Izanagi, or stole his power, and it's been mostly dismissed in recent years (but there's an echodrops post about it here if you're interested in the points it made) and even more so since we got snippets of his backstory, but I think it's worth bringing back up now. Izanagi has been suspiciously absent from the manga, and I'm not sure he's even been mentioned, so I wonder if the koto no ha ties into that somehow. Honestly if Izanami killed him in this version of the story and used his power to make the koto no ha, good for her.

Anyway, trash dad reveals he's not just some human who came back from the dead. He can use these powers of creation; it's unclear whether he's used them before, but Yato has never seen him do so--Mizuchi seems to know what he's doing, but it's also unclear whether she's seen it either. I said years ago I don't think it was easy as him just returning from the dead and being granted godlike powers, but I haven't been insistent on it so much because I did a reread of the official translation two years ago and that version heavily implies the only thing trash dad did to get his powers was come back from the dead. I wonder how they'll reconcile that when this volume gets translated (please hold for another 2 years, lmfao).

Is this Izanagi's power, or Izanami's? Did he steal Izanagi's powers next after he paid Izanami a visit? Did he know what using the koto no ha on himself would do? Was it an educated guess based on Izanami's power? Is it still possible he could be a reincarnated Izanagi that believed himself to be human? I don't know if I'd like that last one, but these are the questions I hope to have answered.

Taking a brief detour to discuss that Kiun and Mayu have joined forces to look for their gods, and Ookuninushi is alive but has with him three freshly reincarnated gods--Yatagarasu, Kagutsuchi, and Shinatsuhiko. I'm shocked he lived and they died, but it may lead to an interesting change in heaven where he has to reconcile how they threw away their shinki lives even after they were explicitly told not to use them. The way heaven (and most gods) treat their shinki as not people but disposable tools has been a long-running theme of this manga, and it's been clear larger-scale changes need to be made.

So back to the main event, trash dad creates a biblical sort of flood, but one that brings images of the past. Alongside the tree where a young Yato named Sakura, we also see a cottage and a multi-level house. The cottage may be where Yato and Hiiro were raised, or it might be the one from the Father flashbacks: Check them out side by side:

(103-2; page 1 [Father and Kaya village]; 104, page 21; 45, page 33 [Yato, Hiiro, Father cottage] if you want to check for yourself)

Next, there's that multi-story building, which could be the place where Yato made his first kills, or Hiyori's grandmother's house. There isn't much visible, so it's hard to tell, but here's another side by side:

(46, page 9 [where Yato made his first kills]; 104, page 21; 85, page 42 [Hiyori's grandmother's house])

If this enchanted world functions similarly to Hiyori viewing Yato's past while he's asleep, Hiyori will get to experience trash dad's past as it really happened. I've mentioned before it bothers me how the gravekeeper has been narrating the events even though he wasn't present for any of them, so it's entirely likely Father manipulated the facts of his history, or they naturally changed over the course of a thousand years.

I also think Hiyori could find out trash dad's weak point, his true name, if/when she witnesses his past. She could then become his lifeline and decide to let the secret die with her. Or he could possess her, but I'm being optimistic.

The tree she sees is the tree where Yato named Sakura, but it could also have some significance to Father and Kaya; if the cottage where he raised Yato and Hiiro was in the same general location as that village, he could have some memories there.

So if we get Hiyori and Sakura interaction I will cry. If we get Hiyori and Kaya interaction I will also cry.

Next few chapters I'm really excited to see where this enchanted lake dimension thing goes. Yukine could also be caught up in it, depending on how far it has spread, and it'll be interesting to see how Amaterasu reacts to it too.

I don't normally say this, but reblogs are appreciated. This post required a lot of skimming older chapters to tie my thoughts together, and my original draft got half erased when I was just finishing it up so I had to rewrite a lot of it. Plus it seems like everyone was pretty confused by the events of this chapter, so a reblog would help to spread it around and hopefully shed some light on the events. Thanks!

[ellaa-writes]

Henlo!! I just saw ur doctor/medic reader story and i feel like they would all want to hear the absolute crazy cases and gossip from reader

Im a student and i work in a large hospital/shadowing some doctors aswell and someday’s these crazy things happen randomly. In the least expected ways. From getting a sudden code stroke to seeing 🪱🪱on body parts to hospital staffs gossips in the med room. Its so random sometimes.

Imagine doctor reader casually telling the time she caught so and so cheating in an empty room in between 2 codes. And shes so chill about it like shes seen and heard enough but the Kortac officers r eating it up like listening to Nurse John’s podcasts😂

Reader: yk this reminds me of the time i did my trauma rotation in—

Konig: wait! Let me get my snacks and tea👀☕️

Hello!! Thank you <3 This is so silly I love it. Decided to have fun with it. It's kinda gross but hey that's what happens. Lol.

It's going to be a rough day, you thought. Not even 2 hours into your shift you had two concussed idiots sitting in your waiting room. This is gonna be a long one, you started at noon and won't be done till 4am the next morning.

Clutching your coffee you prayed for a miracle, an alien ship or a metor. Either one would do.

Later that evening, specifically dinner time. You were the last to arrive, having to help hold down a patient as another medic stitched up a gash on his forehead.

"I know, I know." you said as you sat you lunch down in front of your chair. Running off to grab a much needed coffee. It was your turn for the over night shift. It wasn't a bad shift, just babysitting the wounded soldiers that are currently being held. Coming back and setting yourself into your spot, digging into your food without a cause to the wind.

"You guys won't believe my day." you started off, slurping down your heart spaghetti. "Some rookies decided to play chicken and now they both have a concussion. And one probably memory loss. Couldn't even tell me his name." you shook your head, recalling the incident. "Than Hutch came in, complaining that he can feel worms crawling in him. I had to explain four times to that dense mother fucker that worms can not survive stomach acid." you stopped to take a big gulp of coffee. "But he wouldn't listen, said it wasn't in his stomach but inside his skin. Ran some blood tests and no hallucinogenic. But he could have fooled me." you didn't realise you were blabbing until you looked up from your plate to see a few of your team members surpressing their laughs.

"What?" you asked, mouth full of spaghetti. "Why don't you chew a bit more." one of them offered. Making the other laugh, "Oh fuck off." you spat. "Anyways, had to give Hutch an xray just to prove there's no damn worms in him." you explained.

"An xray? Does that-" you cut them off. "No, not at all. But it shut him up." they all bursted out laughing. "It reminds me of a patient I had back at the ER. Complaining about his ass itching. The other nurses weren't taking him seriously. Just sent him to the bathroom with some baby wipes." you stopped abruptly, this might not be a good dinner story.

"Oh come on Katze, don't get all shy on us now." König said, you didn't even notice he was there. You also didn't notice the rest of the mess hall getting quiet to listen to your story.

"Oh, well we're eating." you tried to explain but was met with loud booing. "Fine, fine." you yelled back. Wiping your mouth, your food finished, you pushed the tray away from you.

"Ok, so they sent him to the bathroom and he came back later saying he can still feel them."

"Them?" Horangi interrupted, and was followed by shushing. "Damn, sorry. Continue." he slinked back into his chair.

" So they put him in a room, told him to strip from the waist down. Another trainee and myself were assigned to this case along with a RN. She had him lay on the side has she spread his ass cheeks. Like you would a child." you stopped from dramatic affect. Watching as your tream and the rest of mess hall looked on in anticipation.

"We saw nothing. So she took a swab, had me spread this grown man's cheeks as she inserted it into the recum, shoveling out what ever was in side. Still nothing." a few people got up and left and others choking back a gag.

"She wet had him pop a squat over the trash can and cough. Sure enough a worm came shooting out. So did some green chunks, thankfully they were just some cucumbers. Guess the guy stole a cucumber from his neighbors garden not knowing it was infested with worms. He shoved the thing right up and it broke. He was like that for 2 weeks, worms up the ass. Still not the craziest thing I experienced, let me tell your that." you reached for your tray, but König took it for your instead.

"A cucumber up the ass?" Horangi asked. "I've seen people shove all sorts of thing up their butt. Idk what it is or why but it's way to common." you threw your finished coffee cup in the trash.

"Sorry I gotta get back. The results for mister chicken should be in by now." you said you goodbyes and waved to others, rushing out of the lunch hall.

"What a women." König said, hearts in his eyes.

[dairy-farmer]

Jaytim half sibling au, where tim is catherine and willis todd's biological child. They put him up for adoption because they felt they couldn't support more than one child. Jason was only two or three at the time, and only has vague memories of his mommy's tummy being big.

Maybe tim always knew he was adopted, but didn't care much, other than the odd daydream when he was lonely. He loved his parents, so he mostly fantasized about long lost brothers or sisters.

Idk how this would progress into jaytim, but I feel like this is a deep well for exploring Jason's mommy kink lol (imagine if tim has her smile)

👀👀👀👀 okay so i had a jaytim thread fic about tim and jason being biological fraternal twin brothers here!!!

but here tim knowing he's adopted and always being curious about the family he would've had if his bio parents kept him. it had been a closed adoption. willis had insisted, told catherine it would make things easier because they couldn't afford another child. not when jason was already such a big expense, plus at least with the adoption they'd recieve some money and that would keep their heads above water for the meanwhile. catherine, of course, knows willis is right. she knows they can't afford another baby. but...this is the first baby she's ever carried and now she has to give them up. it takes a toll on her. jason recalls years later never really knowing what pushed his mom into her drug habit. as far back as he could remember he knew she'd been self medicating with drugs and alcohol. he thought his dad had been the reason. he'd hardly been a very pleasant person to be around. an asshole even. but...never a wifebeater. jason had always just sort of assumed his dad was the cause because he knows his old man had been a dealer at some point. jason only knew that because willis had harshly cautioned him against going down that path. it was one of the few times willis had tried to parent him by pulling jason by his ear away from a group of older boys that hung around a stoop across the street and harshly scolding him.

catherine never quite gets over losing her child. the only thing she has is the birth certificate and some papers from the agency that had set everything up. its what sits at the bottom of some forgotten box long after she has died and so has willis. it gather and collects dust in the closet of the apartment in the building jason grew up in. and it won't be until decades that jason scouts out the condemned building, feeling some sense of nostalgia as he determines the amount of work that needs to go into fixing the whole building up so that it can house new families. jason goes into that old one bedroom apartment, runs his fingers through the thick layer of dust. odds and end furniture that was never thrown out because that old landlord had never been able to find a new tenant after jason's dad was locked up and his mom died and no one was left to pay rent.

jason stumbling across that box, going through it, finding an odd set of papers and just...staring. remembering being two, nearly three and recalling how he'd press his ear to his mom's tummy and giggling along with her at the feeling of something pressing against his hand. its just bits and flashes like how its around the time his mom started on a downward spiral that ended up killing her.

jason finally figuring out this was the reason why. that somewhere out there was a little sibling he'd never known.

maybe he can't go to barbara with this because she'll likely spill to dick or run to bruce to tell on him. jason's options are limited and so he turns to the only other detective that might be discrete about it.

tim helping jason with his search because the adoption agency has long since shut down and were active during the time of paper record keeping.

the two of them growing slowly closer, getting to know each other better. jason thinking tim's not as bad as he thought he was that sometimes...tim might even...remind him of his mom.

he dismisses it because it was that visit to his apartment that makes him all sentimental...makes him think of his mom more often and the good times they had together like her warm laugh and the soft skin of her hand. and sometimes...when jason is dead tired and tim's is the closest place to crash...sometimes....tim does those little things that make the kid part of jason's brain just melt because his mommy is there.

jason and tim starting to sleep together and the the absolute ice bucket chill that hits them both when tim manages to track down the couple that adopted jason's sibling and it's jack and janet drake 👀👀👀

[anderperrylover]

THOUGHTS? DEAD POET'S SOCIETY EDITION

Just thoughts I wanted to get out there

So Dead Poet's Society? Right? Now that I think of it was a film that came out when my dad was in his like late teens (technically he was around the same age as some of the cast). And somehow this film - made and released during their time has been one that resonated with the next generation? I am looking at the film and thinking, and I couldn't help but wonder.

I am not talking specifically about the aesthetic or anything but namely how this one film was definitely not made for my demographic. However - 35 or so years later I read a post here or come across a playlist or an edit or a series of head canons - I see how much this single film has impacted generations who came after.

I relate to this film on a very personal level (put the shipping factors aside). I remember watching scenes with Neil and I could almost recall having similar conversations in life and I had to take a step back and think as to why I wanted to block this film out for a while. I resonated with Todd as a writer but also as someone who had a very similar experience (shy - lack of confidence - but one who found their people). Other than that there were relationships within the story that made me look back at the ones I have and had and all that I am grateful for.

Also as a coming of age film I feel like it is one of the most realistic ones out there. The themes and the extremely bittersweet ending are raw and it hit me like a pile of bricks. The fact that they fell apart because of the things they loved - the heart of the group not being there made things drift apart - and those dreamers and poets who speak out are the ones to leave behind a deeply flawed system (and the cause and reason and leaving is depicted in extremely sad ways - they might give up on everything - or be kicked out for what they believed in - or carry extreme guilt for the rest of their lives) - There are those who fall in love and the ones that betray you and all of that can happen in just a few month. Things that took years to build like friendships and fellowships can crumble because of something external and all you believed in might not fix that.

(Also something weird just jog my memory if I am wrong but throughout the film these three use O Captain, My Captain - and its all in important moments - The last one to use it is Todd - Which I just think just captures his growth - he's taken up the confidence brought by two of his closest friends and a teacher who changed his life for at least a small fraction in time)

I had a few teachers in my life like Keating. They are the reason I never gave up on writing or doing things I love. They gave me reason to believe that I had something small I could put to use - I had a teacher who taught me at 14 who told me to never give up writing and another teacher who told me to continue writing poetry - another who showed to me that I should continue to fall in love with reading - another who showed me that the world was beyond the academics (as I studied classics - it was far more than that cookie cutter stereotype) - Also Keating as a teacher who actually listens - who is there to guide and help the boxes that literally hold students in uniformity

I don't know why - and how a film from the past can have such an impact on me in the 21st century - Very few films have impacted me in this manner and most of the films that have impacted me in that way were released in my lifetime. That being said I think myself lucky to have this to go back to. The film is a cathartic ritual of living, laughing in the moment and weeping and crying afterwards.

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 2

Warning: A little bit of angst and sadness, female reader, One Piece based storyline mixed with my own weird creativity. This will be my personal Nanowrimo project I want to share with all of you. Hope you can enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing.

Content notes: Small buggy turning into big Buggy later during the story, love, romance, female reader who will experience a strong character development, SFW for now, might add NSFW later.

The two strange creatures introduced themselves as Gaimon (the box creature) and Buggy (the dwarf clown). They seemed to have a great interest in you, being the only tall person on this island and seeming to be a pirate as well. Carefully they turned you on your back to check your injuries. Gaimon, who seemed to know the island a bit better than Buggy, brought you some water and fresh fruit, the nourishment immediately bringing your throbbing head and your whole body a quick relief. 

“How did you end up here?” Buggy asked, still scanning your carefully, not sure if he could trust you. 

“I wish I could remember. I only know I set out during the night away from our ship…” 

You decided to not tell them that you ran away - this was none of their business and you also did not want them to become suspicious of you for being a traitor or a weakling. 

Gaimon offered a logical explanation for your current predicament, assuming that you had likely encountered a fierce storm, miraculously surviving its wrath and finding yourself washed ashore. As he shared his thoughts, he extended another container of water to quench your thirst. Instantly, a soothing relief washed over you, alleviating the discomfort caused by dehydration and sunburn. You still felt very hot, coming from a winter island and being with the snow pirates, the attire of the crew was fur and warm winter fabrics. Now, in this tropical paradise, your torn and inadequate garments only worsened your discomfort, trapping the heat against your skin.

You couldn't be bothered and you nonchalantly removed your shirt, revealing a bikini top and exposing more skin to the curious gazes of the peculiar beings beside you. You noticed a bashful tint in their eyes, a reaction to the unexpected sight. While these creatures possessed unconventional appearances, it dawned on you that they were, after all, simply men.

You took a closer look at Buggy as well - you seem to recall that you had seen his wanted poster somewhere in another town and probably more often in the East Bleue before you entered the Grand Line. Despite his size his face was very handsome and his eyes had something captivating. As you focused your gaze directly on him, another blush crept across his cheeks, intensifying his reaction. He took a few hesitant steps backward, creating a physical distance between the two of you.

“How did you both get here?” you ask now and Gaimon tells his story of trying to find a treasure and falling into a box while doing so. You are surprised that this is how he ended up in the state he was now in and not having a coddled childhood as you suspected at first glance.  He enjoys talking to you, seeming to be deprived of human contact. As the conversation unfolds, you gradually regain your strength. After several cups of water, a sense of vitality returns and you can finally fully sit up. 

Then the clown starts telling his story - Buggy's voice trembling with a mixture of anger and spite as he narrates the story of his pursuit of a notorious pirate who had stolen his body parts. His words carried an air of desperation, reflective of his burning desire to escape from this place and exact revenge upon this particular pirate. You are somehow scared and fascinated by his determination. However, you are also glad that they do not ask what your plan from now on was. Since you had simply no clue what to do. 

Gaimon seems to feel your distress and gives you another big, inviting smile: 

“Would you like to join us tonight for a little drink and barbecue at our fireplace? Our dear Buggy is planning to leave the island tomorrow on a raft and we want to bid him farewell, don't we?” 

You are still not sure if you can trust Buggy, but Gaimon seems like a simple minded, friendly creature so you agree to join them both. What other options do you have anyway? You are still feeling a bit too weak to build yourself a new boat and being with two strange dwarfs sounds at least more entertaining than a lonely night in the woods. 

You slowly start to stand up, still feeling shaky in your legs, but trying to assess how much you can walk. Aware that you might need to defend yourself if the situation demanded it, you prepared for the worst-case scenario. Buggy and Gaimon, both barely just reaching your knees, cannot assist you, but you feel stronger than initially expected. 

“You are in better shape than we thought. We first had the idea to eat you in case you were dead!”, Buggy chuckles. 

With a firmness in your voice, you assert, "I will kill you both first and roast you on the fire if you dare to try anything." Despite your attempts to sound convincing, an underlying tremor betrays your words. Deep down, you carry the weight of past experiences aboard pirate ships, where the presence of female pirates often led to dismissive attitudes and a lack of regard for their skills.

Buggy still cuckles but Gaimon seemed to be impressed. 

“Which pirate crew were you in, if I may ask?” 

“The Snowland pirates.” you sigh. You are all too aware of their notorious reputation, their name synonymous with fear and ruthlessness. However, as a member of this crew, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment in how it failed to live up to your own expectations.

Buggy seems to be impressed and stops laughing for a moment. He looks up to you, walking now slowly on your right side. As you look down on him you somehow cannot deny that he looks adorably cute and that thought kind of keeps bothering you until you reach the fireplace of these two island survivors… 

[thejessyami]

INVITATION PART 2 (MAKISIG X ANON)

Disclaimer: I do not own Makisig, Maliksi, or any other Planet Puto Characters that might appear later. They belong to @ask-emilz-de-philzmilz-de-philz

Anon on the other hand is you. So enjoy! 

Part 1 here : Invitation Part 1

Part 3 : Invitation Part 3 (NSFW)

   You tightened your grip on Makisig's hand as you approached the light, instinctively closing your eyes. Makisig softly chuckled, amused by your reaction. However, second thoughts crossed your mind, and you took a step back. Sensing your hesitation and determined to prevent you from backing out, Makisig lifted your body in one swift motion. In response to the sudden movement, you unintentionally shouted, hastily wrapping your arms tightly around Makisig's neck to avoid falling.   

Before you could confront him, he immediately moved toward the light. Reacting instinctively, you closed your eyes once again, clutching onto him tightly for dear life. "You can open your eyes now," Makisig's voice reassured you. Hesitantly, you complied, and as you opened your eyes, the first sight that greeted you was Makisig's face, looking down at you with a warm smile. The close proximity between your face caused a blush to creep onto your cheeks. In an attempt to evade this overwhelming feeling, you averted your gaze.   

What captured your attention was the breathtaking sight unfolding before you. A lush, dense forest encircled a city nestled within its heart. Towering jet-black buildings, reaching heights akin to skyscrapers, glowed with a captivating golden hue. "Wow," you exclaimed in sheer amazement at the stunning scenery. Makisig gently set you down and warmly greeted, "Welcome to Biringan City." His words snapped you out of your trance, and you gazed at him with a questioning look. "Biringan?" you echoed, seeking clarification.  

You looked at him and saw some changes in his body, his hands now resembled golden claws, and his complexion had turned unnaturally pale. The word "Biringan" flashed in your mind, recalling the articles you had read, and the tales shared by locals about a hidden realm where mystical beings dwelled.  

Suddenly aware of his true nature, a wave of fear washed over you, causing you to instinctively cross your arms defensively and moving backwards. "W-what are you?" you stammered, unable to hide the tremor in your voice. “A-are you one of the Encanto's that resides here?” you continued as his true self somewhat piqued your curiosity. Makisig couldn't help but laugh as you defensively reacted.

Once Makisig stopped laughing, he looked at you with a blend of amusement and a hint of something more ominous hidden in his eyes. "I see the rumors of Biringan have reached your ears," he said, his voice carrying a strange melodic tone. "But I am no Encanto. I am a Tamawo."  

The name sent a shiver down your spine. Tamawo's were known as shape-shifting creatures with a fondness for mischief and sometimes even malevolence. You took another step back, suddenly aware of the danger in front of you.    

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with thoughts of how to escape this encounter unscathed. But deep down, you knew that you were in the presence of something ancient and powerful, something that could easily crush you like a mere mortal insect.  

As if sensing your desperation to escape, he spoke, his voice laced with an eerie calmness. "As I mentioned before, I have no intention of harming you," he reassured, though his words did little to quell your rising panic.

"I want to go back!" you blurted out; desperation evident in your voice.  

"I'm sorry, but that is non-negotiable for now," he replied coolly, his expression unyielding.  

"But you promised... you said you would return me if I asked!" you protested, clinging to the faint hope of his earlier words.  

He tapped his finger thoughtfully against his chin, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, yes, I did say that... But that was only applicable outside," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.  

You dropped down to your knees, feeling utterly defeated. It hit you hard that getting out of this place was next to impossible. Tears filled your eyes, burning as they streamed down your cheeks. You scolded yourself for the stupid decisions that led you here. How could you have followed a stranger – no, a Creature – into this strange world, only to find yourself trapped with no way out? 

Ignoring the intimidating presence in front of you, you covered your face with your hands and cried out loudly. The sound echoed in the eerie silence around you, showing just how hopeless and lost you felt.  

Makisig sighed heavily, his expression momentarily softening as he watched your despair unfold before him. Despite his otherworldly nature, there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes, as if he understood the weight of your anguish.     

He moved closer, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. "Don't cry, Binibibi," he said softly, his voice surprisingly soothing.  You looked at him angrily and shouted “WHY?! AS IF YOU’RE THE ONE TRAPPED HERE!” you cried out even louder making sure his eardrums popped out even though you know it was futile, yet in that moment, it was the only release you had.  

  

Sighing once more, he spoke with a solemn tone, "Alright, I'll ensure you get out." His words halted your tears momentarily, and you looked up at him, a glimmer of hope rekindling in your eyes.    

"But not now," he added, extinguishing that fragile hope with his next words.  

Your frustration boiled over, and you shouted in exasperation, "MAKE UP YOUR MIND!" His indecision only added to your torment. "Are you letting me out or not?!" you demanded, your voice tinged with desperation, longing for a definitive answer from him.  

He chuckled "I will let you out, but not right now," he replied, his voice tinged with an air of finality. "Remember, I did promise to take you somewhere fun." His smiled  

'"What kind of fun can there be in a place filled with creatures that could kill me in an instant?" you blurted out, your frustration mounting with each passing moment. The absurdity of his notion of "fun" in such a dangerous environment only added to your sense of despair.  

He cupped your face squishing it, like you were some plush toy. "Worry not, Binibini" he said, his voice oddly comforting despite the situation. "As long as I'm here, I will not let anything happen to you."  

While he reassured you, a bit of relief surfaced, yet doubt and fear lingered in the background. "Now, just come with me," he continued, his tone coaxing. "The sooner we get there, the faster you can go home."  

His words lingered in the air, tempting but uncertain. Reluctantly, you nodded, your determination wavering as you let yourself be guided deeper into the unknown realms.  

As you passed by a boutique store on the street, you couldn't help but shout in your mind, ‘Is that Dior?!’ The continuous stream of high-end boutiques, restaurants, and even auto shops that appeared before you as Makisig drove his sports car only added to the surreal atmosphere.  

Another familiar brand caught your attention, and you looked at Makisig with shining eyes, excitement bubbling up inside you. "You even have Starbucks here?!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your enthusiasm. Makisig simply laughed at your cute outburst, "Would you like to buy drinks before continuing on the road?" he offered, his tone light and inviting.  

"Can I?" you exclaimed with excitement, but the thrill was short-lived as a sudden realization crossed your mind.   

"But..." you hesitated, feeling uneasy. Makisig noticed and asked, "But what?"  

"Don't worry, I'll pay," he reassured, his words intended to alleviate your concerns. However, while the payment system in this realm intrigued you momentarily, your focus shifted to a more pressing matter—Anything you consume within Biringan could have dire consequences, one being trapped in the realm forever. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and you hesitated, torn between the temptation of Starbucks and the fear of never returning back home.

"I can't eat here," you stated firmly. Makisig, ever perceptive, already understood your concerns upon hearing those words.  "If the thought of being trapped here indefinitely concerns you, there's no need to worry. I will make sure you don't ingest anything here that could jeopardize your return home." he said reassuringly.

Despite the tempting proposal, you couldn't shake off your caution. "No thank you, I'd rather not risk it," you replied, holding firm to your decision. "Well, suit yourself," he responded, as if accepting your choice.

The entire ride was quiet but not lengthy. Upon reaching your destination, you gazed wide-eyed at the gates, marveling at the scene unfolding before you. A long driveway cut through a landscaped garden, leading to a massive fountain adorned with sculptures of four naked ladies holding a vase from which water flowed. Behind it stood a large modern mansion with towering glass windows. The car halted in front of the portico, and Makisig declared, "And we are finally here." You looked at Makisig, still processing everything you had seen. "Is this... yours?" you asked. Makisig nodded, “Yes, Stay seated Binibini." he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. With swift elegance, he moved to the other side and opened the door for you. "Mind your head, Binibini," he said, extending his hand in a gentlemanly gesture to help you out of the car.  

Reaching for Makisig’s hand, you stepped outside the car, the door of the mansion opened, and came out from the inside was a silver-haired boy that looked like a teenager. He swiftly made his way towards you and shouted “KUYA!!!” Makisig swiftly catching the perpetrator. “What took you so long!” the boy exclaimed, clinging to his older brother like a little child, completely ignoring your existence. Makisig chuckled and didn't answer directly but greeted, "I'm home, Maliksi." You observed their interaction as Maliksi complained about his day, citing a quarrel with one of Makisig's ladies as the cause of his troubles. "Are you sure you didn't start the fight?" Makisig questioned, already seeming to know the answer. "NO! Why would I? They started it! Saying I'm not well-mannered and stuff!" Maliksi replied defensively before huffing. Makisig simply shook his head in defeat, acknowledging his brother's predictable nature of denying fault in any situation.  

Makisig glanced at you with a wry smile, as if silently expressing apologies for the current situation unfolding. Maliksi noticed his older brother's attention being diverted, looked in your direction, and his eyes narrowed with irritation, as if upset that Makisig's focus was now on you. "What? A new one already?" He asked his tone mixed with curiosity and annoyance.    

“She’ll be here for a while, so be good to her” Makisig said to his brother who clearly doesn’t welcome you with open arms. The tension in the air lingered, indicating that your presence might be causing some discomfort or resistance from Maliksi's side.  

As you processed the situation, recognizing Maliksi as another Tamawo added to the complexity. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you couldn't help but worry about the challenges ahead. However, Makisig reassured you, saying, "Don't worry, my brother will not hurt or touch you." Maliksi affirmed his words with a nonchalant reply, "Yeah, I won't. I respect my Kuya, and I also don't like ugly girls like you." His words stung with an unexpected harshness, leaving you taken aback by the blatant insult.   

Before you could respond to Maliksi's harsh comment, Makisig swiftly intervened, smacking Maliksi on the head. "You don't tell a lady she's ugly," Makisig scolded, making it clear that such disrespectful remarks were not tolerated. You looked at them in amazement as you saw the two interact, their interaction seemed very much like how humans would behave, making you wonder about the intriguing mix of their Tamawo nature and human-like actions.       Maliksi looked at his brother with tears in his eyes while rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry” he said then looked back at you and stuck his tongue out in mockery. Before he got hit again by his brother he dashed back into the mansion, leaving the two of you alone again.  

Makisig rubbed his temples and sighed, then turned to you with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if my brother has offended you, Binibibi. Don't take it to heart; he may be a bit mischievous, but he's a good kid," he explained.  

"Come now, let's get you to your room," Makisig said, extending his hand. You looked at him with a questioning expression. "My room?" you asked, realizing his offer meant you would be staying there for a while. Makisig chuckled and responded, "Yes, why? Do you want to stay here outside?" He teased, his eyes looking at you playfully. Resignedly, you sighed and took his hand. "Fine, lead the way."

  The exterior was already visually appealing, but the interior was truly marvelous. A blend of modern furniture and antique decorations adorned the space. You looked at Makisig with your mouth agape, wondering how much money this person had. Even if you won the lottery, it still wouldn't be enough to buy the interiors of this house. 

As you explored the mansion, curiosity about Makisig's source of wealth lingered in your mind. Climbing the stairs, you encountered doors on the right and a garden on the left. Pausing to appreciate the view, you released Makisig's hand and moved closer to the window. The expansive garden outside lifted your spirits, and the vibrant display of nature captivated you.

Interrupting your thoughts, Makisig's voice whispered near your ear, "Would you like to see it?" his voice sent shivers down your spine. Blushing at the unexpected closeness, you instinctively touched your ear, reacting to the tickling sensation. Makisig, amused, wore a devilish smile in response to your embarrassment. Eager to change the subject, you marched forward, insisting, "Just take me to my room or whatever!"

Makisig, playing along, teased, "Wait for me, Binibini. Do you know where you're heading?" Pausing abruptly, you realized the unintentional nature of your actions. Angrily, you shot him a glance with your face still flushed. Rather than confronting him, you gestured for him to lead the way. Makisig chuckled and proceeded, with you following closely behind.

Stopping in front of a door, he opened it and gestured for you to enter. "Welcome to your room, Binibini," he announced playfully.

You walked inside slowly, the room impressed you, with a modern and elegant feel like a 5-star hotel. It had a queen-sized bed in the center, large windows with curtains on each side, and a terrace with a set of coffee tables outside. The luxurious atmosphere increased your curiosity about the man who owned this mansion.     “I hope it’s to your liking” He asked “if you need anything you just press that button, a servant will attend to you.” He said pointing at the bed table on the left side of the bed. He looked around and back at you, “If you need a change of clothes just take anything from the closet.” He pointed at the door at the east side of the room.

He affectionately patted your head and spoke in a calm voice, "I know this is a lot to process." Holding your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss on the back of it. His gaze held a mixture of understanding and reassurance. "And I also feel that you're tired now. Just get some rest, and I'll pick you up later for dinner," he said as he released your hand. Heading towards the door, he glanced back at you, offering a smile before leaving the room.  

You gazed at the now closed door through which the Tamawo had just vanished. With him gone, a strange quiet filled the room. You looked around the place again still processing everything that happened to you today, your eyes stared at the bed in the center of the room. Giving in to the desire for rest, you flopped onto the bed, face down, and sighed in relief, releasing tension that has been building up on your body. This was an eventful day, and all you wanted was to sleep. 'Yes, Sleep is good. maybe this was just a dream and I'll wake up back in my hotel room' Despite being in a potentially dangerous place, you chose to ignore that reality as you drifted away into the realm of dreams. Authors Note: I would like to address some things

~ This is a Fiction - Fiction

~ My description inside Biringan city was my own interpretation and should not depict the place itself.

~And yes, A MANSION is a must! DUH! How can Maki and Malik house their girls?????

~ Makisig and Maliksi belongs to the one and only @ask-emilz-de-philz

~ Again, sorry if I made any Spelling or Grammar mistakes.

~I only make this as a hobby of mine, so please be forgiving XD.

~Any comments, suggestions and Violent reactions are allowed if it helps with improving my writing.

~ Part 3 coming soon! (And the last one I promise!) <3

[xflashbastardx]

Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to believe the rumors. Not long after his ascendance back into Heaven as Supreme Archangel, there was word that a new demon had replaced Beelzebub as Prince of Hell down Below. This in itself was to be expected; after all, Heaven had filled their new vacancy, so why wouldn't Hell?

But it was who was said to have filled the vacancy that Aziraphale had trouble wrapping his mind around. Dagon had been his first guess, or maybe even Shax. But the Serpent of Eden? After all he'd said about not needing to rejoin Hell; not wanting to?

There was nothing for it. The angel had to go down to see for himself. He was certain it was the only way he would be able to reconcile himself to the idea. Being Head Archangel meant he had the right to go wherever he pleased. In fact, he was expected to meet with the new Prince in order to encourage future relations between Heaven and Hell.

Whatever he had imagined in order to brace himself, however, did not sufficiently prepare Aziraphale for the sight that met him when he got there. Atop the throne that Beelzebub had once occupied lounged a familiar redhead. Familiar despite the addition of shining, scattered snake scales and unusually long, sharp nails.

Those features combined with the slitted snake pupils and enlarged yellow irises hiding any glimpse of white sclera gave Crowley an overall more demonic appearance than Aziraphale had ever thought he could manifest. Looking at him then, it was difficult to even recall he had ever even been an angel at all.

Surely this was some sort of a trick. An illusion, perhaps; something to throw the newest Archangel off his game upon his first visit to Hell in his new position. After all, it was no secret by now that both respective offices knew that Crowley and Aziraphale had been in league with each other for millenia.

Perhaps this was some diabolical prank Hell had cooked up and Heaven hadn't opposed it if only to repay Aziraphale back for the trouble he'd caused them in the past. Just because the Metatron had promoted him didn't mean there weren't still some among the rest of the heavenly host who resented him. Yes, that must have been it.

Aziraphale cleared his tight, dry throat. "Supreme Archangel Aziraphale here on official business to meet with the newly-appointed Prince of Hell," he announced, trying not to choke on his own words. It was with no small amount of difficulty that he forced himself to look Crowley - or what resembled Crowley - in the eyes. "I...don't suppose you have an office where we can discuss our matters privately, Your Highness...?"

((Response to the Prince of Hell prompt

- aziracrow-omens))

@aziracrow-omens

Of course Crowley had not only known that he would, sooner or later, be seeing Aziraphale again. That had, after all, been the entire point of what he'd done.

He just hadn't expected it to go this way.

He thought there would be a planned meeting, that he would have time to prepare. Not that the Supreme Archangel would just march right into hell and request an audience with him without warning. There was, perhaps, a brief widening of yellow eyes, maybe a slight pursing of his lips, but nothing beyond that to betray his surprise.

Wordlessly, Crowley rose and, gesturing for Aziraphale to follow, led the way towards a door in the back of the room. Most demons stepped aside without prompting, clearing a path; those that didn't were met with a hiss and a baring of fangs that cowed them easily. Inside, Crowley was warring with himself---he'd chosen this, yes, and he'd known when he chose it that it would come with a certain amount of...theatrics to really sell the idea to hell that he was serious. But something about Aziraphale seeing him like this, leaning so heavily into this role, made him feel absolutely wretched.

The door was closed behind them, a quick snap of the prince's fingers ensuring it was locked and that their words would not be heard by any nosy demons who might be crowding outside or pressing their ears to it. Only then did Crowley turn to actually face Aziraphale, though his guard had not yet lowered.

"Showing up in hell unannounced, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale? Hardly seems professional. You must have something terribly important you wanted to discuss with me."

[jaybleu25]

23rd of December

alright

hi

its me

jay here

so last year in 2022, i had a bit of a medical scare. it started off as a normal day; a few days before that i just got onto winter break (it was my senior year of high school at the time, just finished midterms). i was chilling in my room, minding my business, when all of a sudden i started feeling pain near my stomach. and i was like "oh, it's probably just that time of the month or something"

but then an hour passed. and another hour. and with every hour the pain just. got worse. like it just went from tolerable to feeling like i was being stabbed. it got to the point where i couldn't handle it any more, and i just laid on the floor for a while. then it got too much, and i called my parents to tell them.

after about 30 minutes, we all collectively decided it would be best to go to the hospital since the pain was really bad. i was crying at this point. mainly from the pain, but also because i was terrified since this was the first time i myself have ever had to be admitted to the hospital. so we get there, i get a quick check up at the front desk, and i'm taken to the er.

which, can i just say, was nothing like how i was imagining it. with how media portrays it and stuff, i thought it was the room where you actually got surgeries and stuff done or whatever. but no, that's a separate room. the emergency room is just a normal doctor's room but way nicer (and also has a stretcher for the patient to lay in).

it was pretty late at night at this point; no clue when it was, but i think we got there around 10 or 11 pm at night. i was there for a good few hours. they hooked me up to an iv, which i would argue was actually the most painful part of my time there (i also have a big fear of sharp things so that added onto the pain of them putting something in my arm wasn't great). but after a while it actually helped with the pain a lot. i could barely feel it after a while.

so after a good few hours, doctors or nurses (i can't recall) come in and take me to get an ultrasound done. during my stay there, i'd been kinda taking naps to help calm myself down, and also because i just didn't have my phone with me so i couldn't play games or anything to pass the time. by the time it got to midnight, my brother left the hospital since he was bored (gonna talk about that point later). but basically, there i was in a different room getting an ultrasound done, which was another thing that surprised me since i only thought ultrasounds were for people who were pregnant. the more you know i guess

after that was done, i got brought back to the room i was staying in and took another nap. woke up a little while later to hear the news,

"looks like appendicitis".

so then the doctors/nurses tell me and my family that i'll likely have to get surgery. main reason? well, as a bit of a tl;dr, if you have appendicitis and you leave it untreated, it could cause the appendix to basically explode itself, spreading harmful things into the body and eventually likely killing the person who has it.

this is when i began to worry that i might die.

but the doctors/nurses then told me that before the surgery, i could get a CAT(?) scan done to make proper sure that i actually had appendicitis. of course, me being terrified of having to get surgery done, chose the scan. so i got taken to get scanned, get brought back to my room, doctors/nurses come back in a little while later and basically confirm,

"yep, it's appendicitis".

so now there i was in the process of getting ready for surgery. my first ever surgery. i then got rolled down in my stretcher to the recovery room where i was told to "get ready", which basically consisted of me changing into a hospital gown, washing my mouth out with some weird mouth rinse (tasted gross fyi, would not recommend), and washing myself down with wipes. then after that, i went back on my stretcher. and before they took me to go to the proper surgery room, one of the nurses came up to me, and she said something that i will never forget: "Would you like to say goodbye to your parents?" um. no??????? i don't??????? like she could've worded it so much better. i know she meant "do you want to say goodbye before you go in for surgery" as in i'll probably see them again, but the way it was worded made it sound like that was the last time i'd ever see them.

that was when i fully believed that was it.

that was when i fully believed i was going to die.

it didn't help that there were a lot of stereotypes surrounding surgery in media, with it being terrifying and such and how some people wake up mid surgery and are forced to watch it happen. thinking of that, i was terrified. especially with the thought that i was probably going to die.

so i said goodbye to my parents, and i told them i loved them, and the nurses started rolling me towards the surgery room. we went down a really long hallway, and only half of the lights were working. looked like something out of a horror movie. and the entire way down the hallway, i was thinking a lot.

"i never got to say goodbye to my friends" "i never got to say goodbye to my brother" "i never got to tell them i loved them" "i'm never going to be able to go to university" "i'm never going to become a teacher" "i'm never going to meet my online best friend" "i'm never going to see my family again" "i'm going to die" "this is it" "if this is what God wanted for me, then so be it; he knows what he's doing" i was sort of trying to come to terms with the fact that i was going to die. but nobody's ever truly ready for that. but while i was still scared, i knew i'd be at peace soon.

i think the nurses could tell i was scared, because once we started getting closer to the surgery room, they started saying casual conversation.

"it's pretty snowy outside," one said.

"yeah, it was snowing on the way here" i responded.

"looks like we'll be getting snow this Christmas," the other said.

"yeah," i responded.

then we got to the outside of the room. the doors were closed, and one of the nurses pressed a big button on the wall that opened them. they rolled me into the room, and they carried me off the stretcher and onto the surgery table. they then explained to me that i'd be under anesthesia, so i wouldn't be awake for the surgery. i was nervous of what would go down, but i went along with everything.

they put the anesthesia mask over my mouth and nose.

i took a deep breath.

i blinked.

i was in the recovery room.

it was morning, Christmas Eve. the 24th of december. it was bright outside with all the snow.

i was laying in my stretcher, kind of confused on what was going on. that was it? was that my surgery? is it over with?

it was around 8 in the morning. i laid there for a good 10-20 minutes in silence, just thinking, trying to figure out what was going on.

i was alive.

after a little while, one of the nurses who were nearby noticed i was awake, and she came over to help take care of me. she brought me back my normal clothes, and i got changed, and she helped me get into a wheelchair. i could barely stand. it hurt to stand. it hurt to move.

i was half awake at the time, but i thanked her for her help, and she rolled me down to the lobby where my parents were waiting. i got helped into our car out of my wheelchair, said goodbye to the nurse, and we were on our way back home.

getting home, i got helped to the couch, where i proceeded to lay there for an entire week. i could barely move. all i could eat was yogurt for a while since i could only eat soft things. i stayed on that couch for a while, only getting up when i needed to use the bathroom (which i rarely did since it hurt to sit up and walk around). my cats often kept me company, laying on top of me on the blanket and keeping me warm.

luckily for me, since i was on winter break, i had the entire week to recover. granted, i wasn't fully recovered by the time the week was over, but by that point i could at least walk a little.

the next week, i had to go back to school. but i could barely walk still. because of that, the day i came back, me and my mom (she helped walk me there) went to the front office, and i was able to use the wheelchair they had there. so for that entire week while i was at school, i was in a wheelchair. there was nothing wrong with my legs, it was just whenever i put pressure on my stomach (whenever i sat up from laying down, standing, etc) it hurt a lot.

i still remember when i got to my first class that day. the school resource officer helped roll me there, and the moment i got into the classroom, everyone was surprised. they all looked at me.

"WHAT?!" they all exclaimed.

i couldn't help but laugh. i found it hilarious.

as of this being posted, it's officially been a year since i had to go to the hospital. my scars have (mostly) healed. it doesn't hurt anymore. i can walk around perfectly fine. i've fully recovered. well, aside from me now having to deal with the fact that i get sick more easily now that my appendix is gone. that's the only downside.

the appendix is actually more useful than you think.

[fandomsandfairytales]

For the unwritten fics game - the terrifying sons of Fëanor and the baseball AU!

(Also you have to divide tags up into five per paragraph now, two of them didn't go through.)

Thank you for letting me know about the dividing tags!! I just updated the post, so hopefully they've all gone through now.

These descriptions got kinda long so I put them under a cut XD

Terrifying sons of Fëanor

This was largely (to my memory) inspired by reading in The Silmarillion about how Maedhros was scary and intimidating to the point that orcs fled from him in fear, and just reading about how people were fearful of the Fëanorians in battle in general.

This was one of the quotes I was thinking of from The Silm:

“Maedhros did deeds of surpassing valour, and the Orcs fled before his face; for since his torment upon Thangorodrim his spirit burned like a white fire within, and he was as one that returns from the dead.”

And also this:

"[Maedhros'] body recovered from his torment and became hale, but the shadow of his pain was in his heart; and he lived to wield his sword with left hand more deadly than his right had been."

I also recalled Maglor killing Uldor for betraying them in the Nirnaeth, and the epithet "Celegorm the Cruel." In my running list of ideas, I wrote the following down when I came up with the overall idea:

A story (or stories?) where we get to see how epically *terrifying* the Noldor are in battle. Please. I need to read about Maedhros being terrifying to any orcs crossing his path and scaring anyone around him. I need to hear Maglor softly whispering “Nelyo?” and see the battle-light fade from his brother’s eyes. I need to hear Maglor shrieking and his voice horrible and awful, ringing off the walls, sharp and overpowering with Song. I need to see Celegorm on the hunt, fierce and feral. I need to read about Caranthir, face and countenance as black as his hair, any hint of redness gone from his pale face (or, conversely, his face dark with color). I need to read about Curufin with crazy weapons, designed to be deadly, and he is terrifyingly, freakily calm as he strides across the battlefield, knowing even a tiny slice of his knife will cause an enemy to bleed out. I need to read about Ambarussa, cunning and sly and how nobody should ever, ever underestimate them as they work in a pair to drive their enemies back, orcs and elves alike. I need it. (It could be 7 chapters. Maybe 8, if I wanted to do each of the Ambarussa)

I think it would be intense and it could easily end up quite dark if I wanted to go that direction (I don't really want to, however), and I have the feeling I'd need to do some research. But I haven't read anything quite like it before and I would enjoy writing it and reading it later, I think. Each chapter could be a compilation of moments in battle, from the viewpoints of other characters—perhaps one or two from a brother and then others from enemies. If I write it, it might be pretty short, but I like the idea of expanding further on each individual sub-idea I wrote down.

Baseball AU

This was partly inspired by seeing something on Twitter about season 1 Rings of Power* and how Elrond's cloak/outfit had runes with Eärendil's name on it, and someone made a joke about how it's the equivalent of a sports jersey. (I really thought I took a screenshot of it, and I searched in like 5 different possible folders for it for about 10 minutes but couldn't find it, so if I ever stumble across it again I'll add it to this post.) Also, from a quick Google searching, apparently TheOneRing.net has an article analyzing the cloak, if anyone's interested.

(Update: I FOUND IT!!! It was this tweet. I don't think I screenshotted it, but I happened upon a response I had made in a Discord server to someone posting the tweet.)

Anyway, I was so amused by the idea that I drew a little picture of a baseball jersey with "Eärendilion" on the back, along with the number 8. (I liked the idea of incorporating both Elrond's biological and adopted family into the design.)

And then—this is where my memory gets a little hazy—I think later on in the summer, my family had baseball on the TV in the background, and one of the teams playing was the Seattle Mariners. I had either just been rereading The Silm (bc I did that last summer) or had been recently on Tumblr scrolling through Silm stuff or somehow remembered my Eärendilion sports jersey design. In any case, I had The Silm on my mind and noticed the baseball team and went to myself "hey. HEY. Mariners. Like Eärendil, get it?" and thought it was hilarious. I decided that if they ever had baseball teams in Valinor or Middle-Earth or wherever, they'd definitely have a Mariners team.

It didn't really go anywhere from there until earlier this year, when I came up with "Finwë Park," a play on Fenway Park (the Red Sox baseball team's stadium), and that amused me as well. I kept thinking that it would be cool to do more with this idea, especially with plays on names both in The Silm and in real life, but didn't have any more ideas until tonight, when we were once again watching baseball. I remembered a few fics I've read that are essentially sports commentaries, and that made me think "hey. I could probably write that. I think." And then went "well, hmmm, I feel like with a baseball game it would be less interesting because you have to *imagine* these things happening, seeing or hearing it is a lot more interesting than reading, and if you don't know baseball well it might get kinda boring....WAIT. WHAT IF...what if I made a podfic. Of sports commentary for a Silm characters baseball game. I could totally get sound clips of crowd noise and baseballs being caught and hit from online, and I could change the pitch on my voice so it's lower or higher to differentiate between commentators....oh heck yeah. This now sounds really fun."

I feel like this would take a while to get together (both the writing and the podfic), but I would want to release the text and audio at the same time. Summer is the prime time for baseball, so I'm going to try to pay more attention to baseball games over the next couple months and see what I can come up with!

Thank you so so much for the ask :D (especially for one of the unwritten fics that I came up with most of the ideas for literally tonight, lol)

Link to my not-yet-written/unwritten fics here.

*I am neither a ROP supporter or hater, I'm a...neutral and kinda "meh" party, interested enough to hear about where it goes but not interested enough to really get into it and develop strong opinions. I've heard plenty on both sides. I didn't really want to get into it in this post since that was not the point here XD

[lutawolf]

Hello Luta!

I saw you are feeling darkness and murder husbands. I can't really offer murder husbands, but I offer Psychopath Diary and Under the Skin as suggestions: https://mydramalist.com/37255-psychopath-diary https://mydramalist.com/70249-lie-zui-tu-jian The serial killer in Psychopath Diary becomes infatuated with the main character too but for entirely different reasons than in Strangers From Hell.

Hey kisa!!!

Omg, these look good. I'm super excited! Yes, yes, I am!! Bless you!!

Yook Dong Shik is a 34-year-old office worker who is so weak and timid that he is used by everybody around him. After an incident, he becomes the scapegoat of his company, and so facing losing his job and his family turning their back on him, he decides to commit suicide. While doing so, he unexpectedly stumbles across a murder scene, but gets into an accident while running from the murderer. He wakes up with amnesia with the psychopath's diary in his possession. With no clues to his true nature other than the diary, and his fragmented memory lining up with the diary entry, he begins to believe that he is in fact a psychopath serial killer. 30-year-old neighborhood police officer, Shim Bo Kyung is investigating a suspected serial homicide. After a few run-ins with Dong Shik, she believes that he is an extremely kind man. However, after one too many coincidences, she starts to suspect Dong Shik might be more involved in the case than she thought. 36-year-old Seo In Woo is a cold and meticulous psychopath. On the day of his 7th crime, things go wrong and he loses his diary where he writes of all his daily life and detailed description of his murders.

The young painter Shen Yi resigned from the Academy of Fine Arts and entered Haicheng Public Security Bureau mysteriously. Interpol Captain Du Cheng was furious and said that he would never accept those who caused his comrade to be killed in the police force. Five years ago, Shen Yi, who was still a student, was sketching on the street. A man took a picture of a child and asked him to draw what the child would look like as an adult. However, this painting caused Haicheng detective Lei Yi Fei to be exposed as an undercover agent and he was killed. And Lei Yi Fei happened to be Du Cheng's long-time friend and confidant. The strange thing is that, no matter how hard Shen Yi tried of recall for a few years, he couldn't draw the face of the man who asked him to paint the child's photo. Five years later, the guilt became heavier. In order to find out the truth, Shen Yi accepted the invitation of Director Zhang of the Public Security Bureau and became a portraitist of the Interpol Team. Under Zhang Ju’s persuasion and arrangement, Du Cheng had to accept that he became a colleague with Shen Yi, but he was still full of annoyance and despised Shen Yi’s “drawing to solve cases,” and the two became the “ticking bomb” in the team. However, in several collaborations, Shen Yi has repeatedly cracked the "dead end" of cases with his "three-year-old painting", "drawing based on audio," "micro-color discrimination" and other stunts, which slowly started to impress Du Cheng. More importantly, the truth of Lei Yi Fei's death is still buried in Shen Yi's memory. On the way to find out the truth of Lei Yi Fei's life and death, the two people who were pursuing alone gradually untie their knots and rely on each other. In the end, "the heaven-matched partners" work together to uncover the dust-covered secrets and create a new world for each other.

Thank you for the suggestions!!! 💜💜💜

[voidtouched-blue]

Her sharp ears picked up every word of the Marshal.

She had already stepped past the disgruntled Adder, pausing at the threshold of the doorway when she heard the venom spat at her fellow Keeper. She had never been spoken to like that here. Seeing how they reacted to him because of his chosen profession made her think that it was because of the reputation Keeper archers had.

What if I wasn't a White Mage? Would they have treated me the same?

The thought slammed into her chest like a blade piercing her all the way to the hilt. She had half a mind to tell off the soldier's cruel opinion. The fur on her tail immediately bristled, flicking angrily to the side as she gazed daggers into the man's back. She may not have known Kaleh'a for long, but he had every right to be here as she did. He was no healer, sure, but he had the heart to be one. That was enough for her. Skills could be learned, but one had to have the courage to hold the hand of the dying and give them the hope of life whether they could be saved or not.

In her hesitation, she found that the situation had quickly come to a close. The Grand Marshall himself stepped forward to right the wrongs happening in her presence. Cyra had to bury the anger quickly. Despite his quick action, she felt like it wasn't enough to grant reprieve for her socially wounded companion. Ones' origin of birth should never be cause for discrimination regardless of the reputation others like him may have gained. He was his own person, and they would never get to know his generosity and gentle heart if they didn't give him the opportunity to show them.

Cyra took in slow, deep breaths to try and calm the bubbling anger within her. Her small hand tightened around the staff, knuckles turning white for a moment before she relaxed her grip. She couldn't afford to lose her head to this, not when there were people who needed her. Still, she couldn't help but feel the need to throw in her thoughts on the matter.

"You spoil us, ser." The healer pressed her lips together into a tight smile. "Perhaps there are some among you that need to be reminded that I, too am a Keeper?" The disgust in her tone was subtle.

As much as she disliked touch, or even proximity she gave Kaleh'a a gentle pat on the shoulder, making sure that she touched only fabric. There was no telling what kind of emotions would bleed into him if she had managed to touch skin. He didn't need that mixed in with his own turmoil. She gave him a knowing look, the flick of her ears quite indicative of her displeasure with his treatment.

I can be angry about it later. These people need my help.

With another tandem flick of her long ears, she tucked the emotion away to deal with after the worst had passed. It didn't take long for her to change the target of her focus. The smell had thickened as they grew closer to their destination. Cyra had been used to the smell. This wasn't the first time she had entered a room full of the gravely injured, but she guessed it might have been his.

Hesitation could not be afforded. Knowing that staying on task would be difficult with what laid ahead of them. She needed to give him something to do, no matter how menial it may be. She did recall him say that he had some knowledge for field dressings, maybe she could put that to use in making this easier for the both of them.

"You said you know how to administer field care? I need you to do this for me." Her words came out calm, but with that tense urgency one needed when wielding the power of granting life in their hands.

"Stabilize the ones who can wait five minutes before I see them. Staunch bleeding, set bones, whatever you can do for them...do it. Keep them alive until I can take over." She could hear the cries of pain, she could hear the labored breaths of those with more than just their foot beyond the door to death. Cyra's eyebrows knitted together with the determination to save every single one of them was strong. IT didn't matter how much Aether she used, she would save them.

Kaleh'a was worried. The number of injured as he picked his way through them towards the main building the Twin Adders inhabited was too many. Far too many for a single Blue-Back to have caused. He was almost certain they had specifically said only a few injuries, some serious, others less so, but only a small number. So what had caused all the others?

He was mid-step when he felt her magic bloom behind him, turning in wonder as she concentrated and summoned aether to her staff. The glow of the focus point drew his gaze, and his ears flicked in the wind caused by it, his tail swaying as he felt how the aether reacted, changed, and shifted around them, spiraling in to her and lifting her from the ground. His eyes went wide, unsure if that was normal, his ears up at attention as he watched her float there, and the burst of warm, aether filled air that had his body feeling...invigorated was a sight to behold. His eyes tracked the many different sparkling dots, his smile growing as he watched how they fell, saw and heard how moans of pain and hurt faded into soft sighs of relief, missing her floating back down to the ground, his tail flicking about excitedly as he was reminded, once again, how incredible a White Mage could be.

He turned to her, his blue eyes picking out the exertion on her face, and he nodded in understanding, knowing that such a spell had to have cost a lot of aether, especially since it seemed to be acting over time as well. He quickly hopped up the steps towards the Adders' Nest, stopping before a smartly dressed Marshal, giving them a quick nod and tilting his head towards Cyra as he rapidly explained. "A got the blue-back, and ran across a White Mage while hunting it. She offered to help heal the injured."

He wanted to ask more, but the Marshal hardly let him, quickly waving to Cyra as he spoke rough and quick. "Good, we need as many hands as we can get. Wait out here while I see her to the infirmary."

Kaleh'a looked shocked, his gaze flicking to Cyra and then back to the Marshal, his tail agitatedly swaying behind him, smacking a passing Twin Adder spearman. "Wait here? I was planning on helping her, replacing bandages and--"

"We don't need your kind of help."

Those words had Kaleh'a bristling, his ears laying back, his tail going still, and his boots took a thudding step forward, the long blue-back feather in his quiver drooping back. "Really? I've killed your blue-back, have proof, and am now offering to help your obviously short handed healers, and you throw that in my face?" The Marshal, stubbornly, held his ground, eyes narrowing at the Miqo'te as a hand fell to the blade at his side, right up until a hand landed on his shoulder, and Grand Serpant Marshal Brookstone interjected.

"Now now, we both know we could use the help, and Kaleh'a has more than proven himself now and before." The Grand Marshal's one good eye turned to Kaleh'a, giving him a warm smile. "Forgive my subordinate's...enthusiasm in protecting our weak. He clearly has made a mistake and I will ensure personally he is reprimanded for it."

"But--sir!" The glare the man got shut him up instantly, both from Brookstone and Kaleh'a, the two blondes not giving an inch until the Marshal slunk off, and Kaleh'a let out a little sigh of relief.

"Thanks, sir." He gave the Grand Marshal a wan smile, the mirth never reaching his eyes, as the red and yellow dressed man loosed his own sigh of frustration.

"No, thank you, Kaleh'a. I'd offer more apologies, but we are truly in dire straights. I trust you and your healer are prepared?"

"As ever!" The blonde Miqo'te grinned, and he reached up to touch the feather. "I think the injured will be glad to see this too."

Brookstone laughed, and shook his head in disbelief, but agreed wholeheartedly, while waving the two forward. "Come, I'll personally escort you to the infirmary. That way there won't be anymore misunderstandings."

[just-another-product-of-today]

Crack au where the Force gives Anakin a dream where everyone but him turns into a Sith/Darksider. He knows it's not a vision. First, well, it's too ridiculous. Second, it feels more dreamy/nightmarish than visionary. He brushed it aside.

(Warning: I literally don't remember the chronological order of everything I mentioned so I won't bother putting them in the right order + they might actually make more sense in a different order for that situation so it doesn't really matter. Voilà!)

But then Krell happens. Barriss. Ahsoka (when Dooku left the Order, he went to the Sith, didn’t he? And she hanged out with Ventress!) Billaba. Quinlan. Yoda (Anakin put a tracker on his ship during the s6 arc and regret letting him go when he sees the coordinates are of a SITH PLANET). Plo (it's the first time Anakin sees him use his emerald lightning). Mace (Vaapad. At this point he's really just too much in his theory and tries to find any excuses possible to make it work). Tiplar (maybe Tup saw something they didn't, something that showed she was a Sith and as a good soldier, he followed orders?) Ki-Adi-Mundi (All those wives and kids but 'not attached'? Totally building a little Sith army or something!) Kit Fisto (Have you seen this guy? Always grinning mid-battle like he loves it and can't wait to get rid of his Jedi robes on any occasion!! Ok maybe he's really, really trying to find excuses there-)

And Obi-Wan. He feels darker when Maul ever since came back/when he's around, which normally is fine cause he's the #1 foe of the dark, but with everything else...

So, at this point, Anakin is extremely paranoid. Think lack-of-sleep-ROTS!Anakin. Understandably so, as he believes that at least half of the Jedi Council are Siths/Darksiders! His (former) master is clearly on the brink of turning and Anakin might still hold grudges over his lack of support with Ahsoka, but that's still his brother-dad-master and he's certainly not losing him (too). Obviously, his next step is to go rant all about it to Palpatine. Who laughs in his face at the absurdity of it. Even that, the Sith hadn't meant to do and couldn't quite believe was happening. Distrust in the Council? Sure. Hate and resentment? Totally his end goal! But, this?

Unfortunately, it's the first and only time he's caught off guard by Anakin and he doesn't have time to smooth the boy's ruffled feathers before the other stomps away. Palpatine doesn't panic though because, clearly, between Jedi-that-are-apparently-dark and him, it's clear to whom Anakin will come back to later.

That'll bite him in the ass later on.

Back to Anakin though, he's heading to Padmé's apartment. Of course he is. Thoughts are also swirling. About Sifo-Dyas and Tyrannus/Dooku. About Fives. About, obviously, the Jedi and Obi-Wan. Even if it hurts, about Ahsoka, too.

But, he especially thinks about Sifo-Dyas. There's this teensy little detail he wouldn't have remembered normally but, well, nothing is normal right now. And that thing is that the one who blocked his file was specifically the office of the Supreme Chancellor. Not his Supreme Chancellor, obviously, but still. And then the Jedi want to cover it up and not tell his Supreme Chancellor? Supreme Chancellor who acts like nothing is wrong when Anakin tells him the Jedi are all turning dark? Supreme Chancellor who he recalls often gave to Anakin his disapproval of some of the Jedi views, which he agreed with, yet kept such comment to himself while in public?

Oh no, he thinks, my friend is manipulated by the Sith/Dark siders!

He pushes his speeder to maximum speed to get to Padmé quicker. When he arrives, he's a mess trying to tell her everything at once and it takes a lot for her to get him to calm down. He's still a mess, but a controlled one.

Somewhat.

The only thing that actually makes him really settle is to assure him that she'll help him investigate this, that they'll find proof of something, anything and get justice or whatever he wanna believe. Padmé, whose trust in her beloved mentor has been quite shaken by the war at this point and that has a great amount of trust in the Jedi, is not utterly convinced by Anakin's story, but there are certainly some things worth investigating even if she hadn't mainly agreed to soothe her out-of-his-mind husband. Also, the first thing she does after that discussion is to make sure he sleeps cause oh boy does he need it.

They end up quite surprised at what they do actually find later. Padmé probably ends up convincing Anakin to tell at least Obi-Wan because this, unlike their hidden relationship, cannot wait until the two of them actually manage to put their communication skills to some use between each other. Obi-Wan takes the deepest breath and releases the longest sigh Anakin has ever heard after hearing the whole story but cleverly decides to focus on the actual Sith issue first. The breakdown is also for after the whole mess and Padmé emphatically offers him a drink for now.

Then they get to work.

[scarasimplysimping]

Run Away

Scaramouche x GNReader

Sypnosis: Scaramouche remembers the time you invited him to elope with you.

Angst?

How young you both were. Naive, impulsive, and reckless. You both wouldn't last a day on your own. Scaramouche was sure to have made the right choice in rejecting you. At least, this is what he tells himself to ease the budding regret at the back of his head.

It was so vivid. The dark haired boy tried not to think about it; He really did yet he always found his thoughts trailing back to that night in his free time. It would've been a beautiful memory had it's circumstances not been so tragic.

The midnight before he became a harbringer, Scaramouche was perched on the terrace of his home with his head resting on his palm, counting the stars with a displeased and bored look.

"Scaramouche, Scaramouche, let down your hair!" The soon-to-be harbringer hears your voice from below.

His whole form perked up instantly as he ran to the railings of the terrace and sure enough, you were down there, grinning ever so mischievously.

"Quiet, you moron! Someone will hear you!" He shouts back, attempting to sound uninterested but the small curve at the corner of his lips gave away his true emotions.

You stare up at his form, illuminated by the moon. How majestic and alluring. Careful now, it would be embarrassing if he caught you drooling over him in his pajamas.

Gathering your thoughts, you start to climb your way to him. Scaramouche could only look at you with an amused expression.

"I have a ladder y,know." He says nonchalantly.

"Is it for climbing when you want to kiss me? Cause... Yknow. You're short." You joke, not bothering to look up knowing he was probably glaring holes into you by now.

"I am tempted to throw it at you sometimes."

One last step and you were sat on the railings, your faces, inches away from each other. Neither of you dare say a word that could ruin the moment for a few seconds. Perhaps both of you were trying to engrave this somewhat romantic scene into your vault of memories.

Something about his pretty purple eyes drew you in so you take this opportunity to steal a quick kiss from his lips.

Scaramouche feels the heat rising to his cheeks as he huffs in surprise. Trying to find words but ultimately failing.

"So... sixth harbringer, huh?" You start as you leap off from the railings and land closer to him.

He takes a step back to regain his composure. Going back to the bored expression he had earlier. It was clear that he didn't want to talk about this.

"Yes. Well, would you suggest someone more worthy for the title than I?" Scaramouche says rhetorically in an arrogant tone.

"Do you want it though?" You ask, leaning on the railings, with your back facing him.

You couldn't see him but you could tell he hesitated to answer. And that one split second of hesitation was enough for you to muster up your courage.

"Run away with me." You say sternly, turning to him again so you could take in his expression.

Scaramouche feels his heart beating faster in his chest, he's almost afraid you might hear it.

He chuckles nervously in response, not sure if you were joking or being serious. "Don't be stupid. You can't just waltz your way out of here."

You shake your head, glad that he was actually considering it. "Just say the word. I promise you I'll handle everything."

So you weren't joking. Still, Scaramouche wouldn't follow through with something so ridiculous and unprepared. "We've never even set foot outside of Snezhnaya."

You continue to press. "I've read enough books. Seen enough maps. We'll work it out!"

Your eyes glow with eagerness and hope, Scaramouche could almost feel himself falling more in love with you more than he already was... not almost. He actually was.

The dark haired boy starts to contemplate more on the idea of starting a whole new life with you.

"We could travel all across Teyvat." He says subconsciously.

You interlace your fingers with his, thinking you both were really gonna do this.

"Maybe settle down in Monstadt." You suggest.

"The city of freedom." He adds, locking eyes with you.

"Just a normal couple doing normal couple things." You smile, and in turn that makes him smile.

Scaramouche lays his head on your shoulder. Thinking about the beautiful future you both could have together, worrying not of combat training or fatui business. Growing old, maybe even having children, then grandchildren. Dreams of an amazing future together.

But dreams remain dreams.

You both snap out of it when you hear a knock at the door.

All of the sudden, you're back to reality and he still was gonna become a harbringer tomorrow and you're still going to lose him.

"Sir, the Tsaritsa would like to have a word." The voice at the other side of the door calls. A fatui agent.

You find a place to hide for a bit as he rudely shoos off the poor man.

Once the uninvited guest was gone, you give him a sneaky back-hug, with the hopes that the plans were still on.

"I can't." Scaramouche says in a defeated tone.

You're eyebrows furrow, slowly you let go of him. "Of course you can! Just pack a few bags and we'll be off before dusk."

"No. No one has ever went against the Tsaritsa's will and lived to tell the tale." Scaramouche states.

"You won't be going against her! Just moving away from her." You try convincing him in a shaky voice.

"No. (Y/N), listen to me. Even if we did leave we have nothing to feed ourselves. No money, no family, no authority-"

"Authority? Is that why you want to stay so bad? Because of your little power fantasy?" You retorted, later regretting it as you see the hurt in his face.

The expression quickly turns into anger. "How dare you even accuse me of that. Who do you think you are!?"

"Well I thought I was your lover."

You both stare each other down as the room's atmosphere grows heavier.

It pained him to fight with you and fights were never this serious. And Scaramouche was scared that one more persuasive sentence from you would cause him to give in, follow his heart, sweep you of your feet, and be on your way to springvale by tomorrow.

So he said what he thought he had to say, "Lover? You're just a fling. Give me a break. You're a fool if you really thought whatever we had was going anywhere." It broke his heart to lie but Scaramouche was great at hiding his sadness, or rather, disguising it with anger.

After all, you continuing to be with him as he was a harbringer would put your life in peril. He was doing the right thing... but then why did it feel so wrong?

You feel tears running down your cheeks but you still refused to believe him. How well you could see through him. Or so you hope. "You're lying."

He turns his back to you for fear of his own tears giving him away.

Scaramouche lets out a forced groan. Out of desperation, he lists things he hates about you. Personal things he didn't actually hate but had to pretend he hated. His voice laced with venom and anger, not towards you but rather the Fatui, the Tsaritsa, even the whole of Snezhnaya and it's damn snow for putting the both of you in this situation.

"-I hate that you think you can read me. I hate it when you try acting all lovey dovey with me it's disgusting. And I hate you for making me want to just kiss you right now and forget about everything but us." He lets the last part slip.

Silence

Scaramouche turns to you. You're not there. Not anymore.

Filled with regret, he runs to the railings and tries to search for you but not a trace. Not a damn trace of you and it seems you took his heart with you too.

That was the last time he saw you. Scaramouche can't help but sigh sharply everytime he recalls that night. But he treasures it. He treasures every moment he spent with you and promised to himself that when all of this is over, he will find you again and you'll finally run away, hand in hand.

[aftqrglow]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?���

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

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[originalfireemblemscenarios]

♠️ Okay, wonderful! For the event, would you be open to writing for a F!Corrin with Takumi and Jakob (separate)?

I would love to see you write something centered around a curse on Corrin...maybe her voice is stolen, her memory of her loyalty to Hoshido/Nohr goes away, she's put to sleep...? Just some ideas. Excited to see what you come up with! ❤️

THERE IS SO MUCH POTENTIAL! I could write so many curse prompts... Maybe I can do it as an event in the future?

Takumi and Jakob with cursed Corrin

Corrin here is female

Starter for both

Corrin had been waiting for some free time to visit the realms and see her two adorable sons.

Unfortunately though her husband was busy handling variety of tasks she couldn't help with... But that'd mean that she'll just have to give her sons twice the attention to make up for it!

Traveling alone to the realms went smoothly. But trouble started once she was heading back.

Suspicious mages were found not far from the portals and naturally she decided to investigate to make sure what their goal was.

To put it simply- she got unlucky and caught. Turns out the group was just beginner mages that liked to play around with curses and Corrin ended up as their test subject.

She managed to fight them off... But she didn't come back unscathed. Although it'd be a matter of time before the curse takes it's effect...

Takumi- Sleep curse

The moment he was done with all his tasks he noticed that his wife didn't come back yet. Which made him worry greatly.

So the second he was notified that she came back he went to see her. He wanted to know if anything happened or if she just lost the track of time.

He happily greeted her and she seemed normal as ususal. She was just as full of life as always.

Suddenly her head started hurting and she felt weak. He immediately caught her in his arms and lead her back to their quarters so she can rest.

"Takumi...? What's happening to me?" it felt scarry to be so helpless. He wanted to lie to himself and say that she was just a little tired but everything came so suddenly there was no mistaking that something else is the cause.

When he helped her lay down he only then noticed a mark underneath a cape on her back.

He immediately wanted to get help, but at the same time he didn't wanted to leave her.

He recalled how he was cursed and he definitely remembered how scary it was. Especially to forget hurting his friends. Luckily it doesn't seem like she'd be under a similar spell.

When she closed her eyes is when he started to panic more. So he immediately went to look for someone who could help.

Fortunately the curse wasn't strong. The people behind it were clearly an amateurs. It was easily broken.

The whole thing didn't last even an hour but he was a little paranoid that Corrin might never wake up.

When Corrin woke up Takumi immediately hugged her like he was never going to let her go. He was dead worried but now everything was alright.

But the happy moment had to come to an end sooner or later, because now they had to take care of those mages before more people get hurt.

Jakob- Memory loss

He was happy to hear that she was back from her trip... But he also wanted to scold her for losing the track of time so easily.

She was acting normal for a moment but then she suddenly started acting confused by everything.

The realization hit him when he spoke to her and she said "Do you know where I am? Who are you?" not being recognized by her hurt more than getting stabbed.

He thought it was impossible for her to not remember him. But there you had it.

She was still just as kind and sweet. Somehow the curse only affected her memories but not her feelings. So she acted a little shy around Jakob like she had a crush on him.

Which was honestly adorable but he didn't wanted her to be like this. Although she didn't lose her feelings, she doesn't know who he was to her. He thought this kind of thing could only happen to someone like Silas, not him!

He was sure it was a curse, what else could it be? So naturally he looked for someone who was more experienced with dark magic.

As they walked around he held her hand and it made her rather flustered, but she didn't stop him or even ask where he was taking her.

It wasn't anyhow an advanced curse so it wasn't hard to get rid of it. Still the whole thing made him angry.

Now that she remembers everything it'd be loveley if she could tell him who had cursed her. In that case he could make sure nothing like that would ever happen to her... Well anyone but he only cared about his wife's safety.

~Mod Bernadetta

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

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