#but damn if I didn't appreciate it since I waited for them to make canonical 'being a plague doctor = selling your body' joke.

[sovamurka]

Top three quotes from Plague Doctor chapter 32

- Ah yes, and I used "Sinners' Garden" exclusively for potato farming.

- Are you searching for a pro... personnel for your mini-hotel?

- Why? Just why, when I meet a handsome man he turns out to be a bandit of some sorts?

[unspeakable-imagination]

Cigar smoke and Sleepless nights | part one

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x reader

Rebloggs and likes are appreciated

Cw: Cigars and smoke, drinking, reader has ptsd, Logan has ptsd, canon-typical violence

Part two. Three four

The humans made your life hell, especially since you were the only mute in the tiny town that hardly had 500 people. They ran you out, and in such a time of need, imapretly the old professor had heard your cries the loudest.

It had been five days since you'd arrived at Charles Xavier's school for the gifted. Granted, you weren't a child like many of the people here. A woman named storm had retrieved you, by Charles' request. After leaving your home at seventeen, you lived, bouncing around place to place till you landed in a little nowhere town in montana, just south if the Canadian border. You stayed for awhile, plenty of years, until word got around that you were a mutant.

Storm had managed your retreaval in a matter of hours with the x-jet. By the time she'd gotten you back to the mansion, it was coming dawn, and your bedtime. Foxes are nocturnal, after all.

Storm and Xavier were quick to set you up in a hardly furnished room, telling you to make if your ownm The smell of all of the mutants was thoroughly overwhelming and only made you want to sleep more. So you did.

You slept through just about every hour of daylight, and then, as the sun set, you had finally woken up. It was easy to hear that nobody was awake, and so, in an attempt not to bother them, you found the jacket that you'd tossed on the floor while you prepared to crash. Fishing through the pockets you found the object of your vice, a pack of thin cigarette and pretty silver zippo.

Opting not to wake the people in the building with creaky stairs, you flung open the window, leaning your head as far out as possible, since Xavier didn't like smoking indoors. It was easy to light the cigarette and only took you a few minutes to finish.

When you returned in from the position in the sill, you figured you'd had some exploring to do. It didn't take long to find your way down the stairs, to the communal kitchen, and it didn't take you long to find a pack of bacon in it, either.

It had only taken you another moment to get the stove top lit with a griddle ontop, waiting for the pan to heat. After an impatient few seconds you preferred to just slap almost half the slab and the hardly warm pan and fork it apart, watching parts of it smoke, the fat bubbling. The constant impatience of you flipping the bacon, almost every twenty seconds was making it cook slower, and your frustration rise quickly until you scrunched your face in pure frustration and just threw the fork onto the counter, stepping away in defeat to just let the damn bacon cook.

At this point you didn't care if it burned. Turning around to rummage the fridge, you bristled at the fact you couldn't even find a beer. "Of course not," you stated. "It's a fucking school." Closing the fridge, you jumped in surprise to see the only other person you've met, Hank.

"What's that meant to mean," he said, tilting his head. Hank constantly gave you that innocent and sassy vibe, so you weren't sure what to say. Deciding to be truthful, you shrugged.

"I mean, you guys don't have a beer or even a fuzzy navel, nothing good. I should have figured since there are so many children." He nodded, quickly catching to what you said.

"Alcohol isn't good for you, but if you really need something, I think Logan has something in his room, but he's not here. I can go in and grab it?" You didn't know who logan was, and honestly didn't need a drink that badly. "Plus, we have milk... and water? Oh there are tea packets in the cubbord and, " his eyes shifted to behind you, "and- I think your bacon is burning."

Flipping around you hastily stepped to the stove grabbing the fork you earlier then and flipping the now slightly charred bacon. Grimacing at the smell of the burn, you turned back to the blue beast. "Sorry, Hank. Where did you say that tea is?"

"That cubbored down there," he pointed up to one of cabinets at your knees, under the microwave. You nodded a d grabbed a cup from one of the racks filled with mugs hanging from the wall and filled it with tap water.

"Thanks, Hank. Shouldn't you be asleep?" He nodded before saying something under his breath and then replying.

"Yeah, I'm just on my way there, now. Deal well, [Name]." She said, nodding his head a little awkwardly, then walking away. She just nodded her head and waves him off.

Turning off the burner, you used your fork to scrape off the cooked slices, that had simmered down to a considerablely smaller amount, to your plate your gotten out earlier. You put the water in the microwave and set it on two minutes, just to get the water hot and began to shuffle around in the tea cubbored. After finding some random flower flavor that sounded appealing, you tore open the packet and threw away the wrappers setting the bag on the counter next to the microwave.

"Thanks for the food," you mumbled to whatever God could have been listening. Grabbing the bacon, slice by slice, you practically shiveled it into your mouth until the microwave sounded. You shifted away from the island you were eating on, taking your cup and putting the teabag in, tying the string around the handle so it wouldn't fall in.

You let it steep while you finished your bacon, and looked to the sink. It was empty so you figured, maybe waking what mess you made would be better. Flipping on the faucet, you put the griddle and your plate and fork in, just quickly washing them and setting them in the drying rack. It okay took a couple of seconds, but when the faucet went offc you realized you heard something.

It was a somewhat familiar rumble of a distant motorcycle engine. Plenty of men in montana drove motorcycles and they didn't sound to much doffrent aside from volume.

Grabbing your cup of tea, you listened. The rumble gradually got closer as you sipped, realizing that they were coming to the school. Within a few minutes, they were here. Sipping your tea, you watched a silhouette with the burning embers of a cigar open the door to the school, walk right in, and wander up the stairs. You weren't sure if the man noticed you. IF he did, it wasn't obvious. You tilted your head and listened to him wander down the hallway and slam a door.

Finishing your tea, you shrugged it off and continued your nightly activities.

[2af-afterdark]

Son of Hell - Chapter 3

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Characters: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Lucifer, Beleth Content: Post-canon, omegaverse Word Count: 1795

“That child you saw is Seo-jūn, my son, and Minhyeok is his dad.” Ra-on bit their lip, afraid to say the next sentence. “But one of you – Belphegor and Beelzebub included – is his father.”

It had been nearly four years since Ra-on had released the final devil from their contract with Solomon and fulfilled their deal with Satan. As much as they wished to stay and help with the war, they also had someone back home to return to.

“Come see me as soon as you can, okay? I'll be waiting for you all.” They had said before stepping through the portal and returning to their world.

They didn't expect it to be four years before they saw such important friends again. Still, they knew the wait hadn't been anyone's fault. Time in Hell and on Earth didn't move in a logical pattern. Sometimes time passed so quickly in one that a minute would become a month, and other times it was so slow that a child would reach old age in only a day.

But they still felt lonely the first time they went to the doctor to discover they were with child. They still panicked when they realized they had no idea how to care for a baby that would be half devil. They still cried when they considered how they would ever take care of a child when they had no job, no higher education, and no one to help them care for it. Not to mention the social stigma of being an unclaimed omega with no father in sight.

If Minhyeok hadn't helped them through every step of the way… they dared not imagine what life would have been like. Thank goodness he had been a wonderful dad to Seo-jūn and the best partner Ra-on could have asked for in their time of need.

“I would have told you all sooner, but apparently texting doesn't work between worlds.” And they dared not risk returning to Hell when time could warp and flow so drastically that it may set them at an entirely different pace than their son.

“I hope you all can understand.”

It was a selfish request, but they had to make it on Seo-jūn's behalf. The kings had to understand that Ra-on was a mother and that meant they had to think of their son first and foremost. Even if Seo-jūn was one of theirs, that information was less important than ensuring they were there for their son.

“Damn,” Beleth, attending on behalf of Belphegor, said. “There weren't no winnin’ with choices like that.”

They smiled, appreciating his understanding.

“You should have just brought him to Hell,” Satan added nonchalantly.

“I was not going to bring my child to an active war zone where the enemy forces have a vested interest in seeing him dead.”

“I agree,” Mammon chimed in. “Even though I wouldn’t want my child in danger, Tartaros could have protected you both”

“He’s not yours!” Satan yelled back.

Mammon looked him over from head to toe, then smiled wide. “He’s too tall to be yours.”

Satan gritted his teeth. “He’s too cute to be yours.”

“That’s because he’s Ra-on’s son.”

Ra-on only sighed. They hadn’t realized just how much they missed this bickering.

“Were there any troubles with the pregnancy?” Lucifer finally asked now that he wouldn’t be interrupted by the others. “The child is half demon, so it’s important to ensure both you and they have proper check-ups.”

The only one of the kings who was intimately familiar with hybrid children was Asmodeus – father and progenitor of the unholycs – but Lucifer refused to ask him for advice and opinions on how to care for a demon child born to a human.

“Seo-jūn is surprisingly healthy.” Ra-on’s eyes beamed as they spoke of their son. “He rarely even scrapes his knee when he falls down. He’s a bit of a crybaby though.”

“And you?”

Ra-on paused at that next question, but eventually answered him as they rubbed at the collar around their neck.

“Minhyeok helped me out when I needed it.” They didn’t want to clarify what that help entailed, but they were sure the others could understand. “In fact, he’s watching Seo-jūn right now.”

“You should have brought the child,” Leviathan commented. 

His eyes squinted at Ra-on with annoyance.

Ra-on huffed. “Even if one of you is his biological father, I wouldn’t introduce him to strangers and confuse him when he has a dad that he loves very much.”

As soon as the words left their mouth, they wished they could take them back. What they said was not incorrect, but it sounded much colder than they intended. It wasn’t as if Seo-jūn’s father was uninvolved because he didn’t care. It was simply the cruelty of fate.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “I didn’t come here to tell you that I expect anything. I simply thought it was right to tell you all that you may have a child.”

“Then ain’t it right that the father get to see his son?” Beleth said.

Ra-on couldn’t deny that they had thought about that, but the situation wasn’t so simple.

“I won’t allow someone to come into his life only to potentially disappear all over again.”

The issue was still time. As long as they lived in two different worlds, time would move haphazardly between them.

“Come back to Hell.” Leviathan gave the command as if it was common sense.

Ra-on pursed their lips together. “I already said that I will not bring my child to an active war zone. That’s too dangerous.”

Leviathan leaned his cheek against his fist and peered at Ra-on as though they were stupid. “And when the angels come looking for both of you and you can’t protect yourselves? You may be thinking that they have more important matters to attend to, especially since it’s been years without seeing them, but it’s only been a month for us. A month is no guarantee that they’ve abandoned any plans they may have for you.”

Satan and Mammon finally stopped bickering with each other as they realized what Leviathan was saying. To the forces of Heaven, Ra-on was still a target since they were the current holder of the king’s and 72’s contracts. Eliminating them would once again weaken Hell. They had all known that before Ra-on left to return to Earth, but had, begrudgingly, accepted their choice to return regardless.

“I can use your magic,” Ra-on reminded them. It was the same justification they used when they left the first time; their promise to remain safe so Hell’s power wouldn’t weaken with their death.

“Can Seo-jūn?” Leviathan questioned. 

Ra-on paused.

“I can protect him.”

“Do you plan to be with him at all times?” Leviathan posed his statement as a question, but it was clearly an accusation. In fact, Ra-on was currently separated from Seo-jūn. If he were attacked at this moment, no one would be able to protect him.

“That’s enough,” Beleth warned as he pointed to Lucifer who was covering his nose.

He couldn’t smell it himself, but he was smart enough to recognize that Lucifer was trying to keep himself from smelling what were likely Ra-on’s pheromones. The theory was only solidified when Satan and Mammon also moved to cover their noses. 

Ra-on was distressed enough that they were beginning to leak pheromones that let every alpha in the vicinity know that they were in danger. It was, of course, supposed to prompt an alpha’s protective instinct. It was involuntary on both of their ends. 

“I’m gettin’ the feelin’ that King Leviathan means to point out that you and yer kid need more protection.” Beleth remained calm as he spoke, trying to help Ra-on relax. “Hell protected ya once, even if it was a war. More people means you and yer kid will be safer.”

Ra-on listened to Beleth speak, but could only shake their head.

“I can’t leave Minhyeok again.” Their distress was lessening and, with it, their uncontrolled pheromones. “Seo-jūn needs his dad.”

There was a twinge of aggression that passed between all the present kings, tainting the air with their own pheromones.

“If that’s yer issue, why not bring ‘im along?”

“No.” Satan and Leviathan said in unison, then glared at one another for daring to have the same thought simultaneously. 

But Ra-on ignored their protests. “Can I?”

For the first time, Ra-on seemed to be listening to their plan to return to Hell.

“Humans without contracts can’t stay in Hell,” Satan reminded them.

“Then he just needs to make a contract with someone,” Mammon said.

“You volunteering?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

Mammon was the king of greed. Everything in this world belonged to him. The only exception to that rule would forever be Ra-on. To form a contract with another person who he already owned was unthinkable.

“I won’t either,” Leviathan added.

He couldn’t stand the thought of being the one that allowed Minhyeok to enter Hell. His jealousy wouldn’t allow it. He’d forever envy seeing the two of them together. But he would also forever be jealous of the person that brought Minhyeok to Hell because that person would hold Ra-on’s favor.

Satan spoke with a smile on his face, “I’m already forming a contract with Ra-on.”

“Excuse you?” Leviathan nearly growled.

“They had a contract with me before. They’ll need a new one to stay in Hell again.”

“In that case, they should make a contract with someone else,” Mammon pointed out. “I can provide anything they and Seo-jūn may need.”

“No one cares,” Satan grumbled.

Mammon only smiled. “Ra-on does.”

And once again, the bickering started.

Beleth sighed.

Lucifer stared blankly, but anyone who knew him would know that he was amused.

It was Ra-on who was the one that mentioned a possible solution.

“What about Ppyong?” He and Minhyeok were already close. As a red lump, he was a lesser devil, but Minhyeok didn’t need a grandiose contract to stay in Hell. “Assuming they are both willing, I mean.”

“Sounds good.” Satan definitely liked the plan. Ppyong was one of his citizens, which meant Minhyeok, and therefore Ra-on and Seo-jūn, would be tied to his kingdom once again.

Ra-on was the one who made the suggestion, but it was still hard to accept. They missed everyone over the past four years, but moving Seo-jūn and Minhyeok to Hell was no small task. Hell had different rules that took some adjusting. 

“If Minhyeok agrees, then we’ll come to Hell.”

Again, each of the kings seemed annoyed that Minhyeok was such an important factor in Ra-on’s decision, but it was what it was. And, at the moment, the choice if the kings would see their potential child and beloved Ra-on was dependent on that man.

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: The Hunger Games reaping. Canon typical angst. Reader has a speech impediment.

Chapter Summary: Lukas Artanhour is your best friend since childhood who makes the worst decision of his life when he volunteers as tribute for the 71st annual hunger games... Luckily, he won't be going alone, and you didn't even have to volunteer.

Word Count: 2.8k

Don't be detered by the OC in this chapter, he is just someone I made up to make the hunger games more emotional of an event 🙃

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

It’s cold and windy down by the docks, with the sand getting kicked up from time to time. District Four is one of the most beautiful places in all of Panem, and it’s known, as all districts are, for its main production to the Capitol. Fish. 

The people here are wealthier than most in the districts, a close third in rank to both one and two, who reign supremely amongst the favorites. The Hunger Games have obviously played a serious part in all of that. Four being a career district meant that the Capitol goers were far more likely to invest. Careers are the favorites, no matter which district they come from. 

The reaping is today, and you don’t want to think about it. It is why you arrive at your work station an hour before you need to be there. You’ve spent years of your life down here by the docks, whether it was waiting for your father’s boat to return, or your friend to bring you the boxes that needed to be loaded onto Capitol trucks. You’re a mover, it’s your job. It doesn’t pay well, because the real money is in fishing, but you wouldn’t dare go out on a boat. 

“You’re early,” Lukas nearly spooks you, smiling after watching you jump from surprise. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s r-reaping day. I couldn’t s-sleep.”

He was used to the skip and stutter of your words, un-phasing him as you spoke each one. 

“I get it. My mom keeps hounding me about it. Every year I grow taller, stronger, she tells me I could win,” he sat down next to you in the sand, handing you a shell he found on his way here. “Another for the collection.”

“Thanks,” you took it gratefully, placing it in your pocket for safekeeping until later. You journeyed back to his previous words, what he meant by them. “Does your mother w-wish you’d gone through the career program?”

He shrugged, looking out into the sea, his mind just as full of indecent thoughts as yours. 

“I’m not sure what she wants. Ever since dad died she’s just been… different.”

“My parents have s-said, if it ever gets t-too bad, you c-can always stay with us.”

He nods, his appreciation shown through a single sideways glance. He knows he has places to go, he knows that there are others that are willing to treat him as a son should be treated, but he wants his own mother to do it. He longs for the woman she once was, and hopes if he can make her proud enough, maybe she will be that way again. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but he’d been saying that for the past year. 

So far, you’d learned she’d been hitting him, been yelling and screaming about how he would never measure up to his father. You never saw these interactions of course, because if you had you may have broken down for him, your friend of eleven years. In school, he was the only one who would talk to you, the only person who ever gave a damn about the girl with the stutter. He defended you when they made fun of you left and right, for nearly everything they thought was wrong with you.

“You s-shouldn’t listen to her,” you shook your head, the waves crashing on the shoreline several yards down. It was the only thing that would remain peaceful about today, when later on two children would be hauled off and expected to fight or die. “She isn’t in her r-right mind anymore.”

“I know that.” 

He agrees, he knows. He is well aware that her mind slipped maybe even before her husband died. She had been driving him to the long hours that he’d worked, and eventually made him work out on a ship during a storm. The boat sinking was just fan to the flame of her deteriorating mental state. 

He picked up a rock from the sand a few feet over, standing up and tossing it to skip over the water before it began to wash on the shore. He gave you a hand to your feet, pulling you up until you were steady. 

“Boat leaves in a few minutes, I’ll see you when we get back,” he said, turning on his heel in the sand. You nodded at him before he walked off, into the working hours of the day. You shouldn’t even be here for another hour. You know that they’ll be gone for two or more and you don’t need that long to prep the boxes. But you can’t sleep. 

-

Lukas returned to the docks with a much better mindset. The water always made him feel serene. He came to land, lugging the giant nets tied together to keep the fish from falling out. Today’s catch was good as any other, and the songs the boys sang on board nearly made him forget everything else. 

“Salmon are catching like crazy this time of year,” he muttered, meeting you halfway to help you untie the knots and start packing the boxes. “Thinking I might sneak one home if there’s extra. You probably can, too.”

“I’ll t-try. My pa could use s-something more to eat.”

He weeded through all the skimpy ones, pulling the biggest catches out first and laying them sideways in the boxes, filling the middles with ice before adding another layer. It was the same thing everyday, but he never tired of it. He was content to live the life of a district four fisherman, and he was good at it. 

“How’s his arm doing?” He asked, since you’d brought up your father. 

He’d broken it in a rigging accident about two months ago, and the slow healing process was not doing your family any favors. You’d been hungry several times, so obviously extreme measures had to be taken. You won’t think about that right now, though.

“Not any better, n-not any worse.” The fish box was nearly packed, but you paused to think for a moment. “Maybe I s-should try and catch. It pays a lot m-more, and we could use the money.”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you to face him. 

“You’d be scared to death. If your family needs some money, I can help out. It’s the least I can do when they offer me free lodging,” he half joked, completely serious in all aspects about the help with financial assistance. 

“Lodging that y-you’ve never taken.”

“Listen, I’m happy to help if you need me to. Especially with your brother, now,” he mentioned, making you think about the sweet little sleeping face you’d passed by on the way out of your home. Your baby brother, born not a year ago. You hated the idea of him growing up hungry, or having to start work early in his life like you did. 

“Well, t-thank you. I’ll think about it.”

He shook his head, seeing as how you quoted him from all the times your family offered him help before. 

He waved you off when you finished stacking the prepared boxes onto your slab dolly, tilting it back and beginning to push it towards the truck that pulled in not too long ago. It was a steep climb, up the ramp from the docks and onto the street, but it made you quite strong over the years. That and all the heavy lifting, becoming easier with every twenty by thirty of fish. 

Lukas would be taking off early today, as would most of the other boys of age. You would be heading home after loading this shipment as it were. You had to shower, had to clean up your hair and skin and make yourself presentable for the reaping. 

You opened the back of the truck, tossing the boxes up one at a time, before climbing into it and stacking them neatly in one of the four corners. You always managed to obtain a single splinter from every shipment loaded, but luckily today’s wasn't too bad, you could probably dig it out with a small pin. 

Later in the day, your mother gave you a solemn smile as you walked out the door, having just been readied and dressed in your best clothes. Even in a wealthier district, they still had mended holes in the bottom of your skirt. That’s the sad thing about every district. Even amongst the wealthier ones, there’s still poverty that simply cannot be helped. The Capitol's greed and thirst for luxury, needing every little thing that life has to offer at their beck and call. You can’t even imagine what it’s like in places like eight or twelve. Places where food is not the primary cultivation of the people. 

It was light green, your outfit. It had white seashells on the waist of the top, and a few along the edge of the skirt as well. They hadn’t always been there, but you insisted they should be. You didn’t really have much else of a use for all the shells you stole from the sands of the shoreline. You hated wearing the same outfit to this single event every year. You hardly wore it any other time, which made a distaste for it grow every time it came out of your closet. 

The way your mother did your hair was simple. A single french braid down the back of your head, tied off with a light green ribbon to match everything else. She watched how it fell a bit looser with every step you took, making your way across the streets and into the city’s center. It’s your last year, and having avoided every year before, you know you should feel a semblance of relief, but you don’t. 

Your mother waits for the peacekeeper behind a stand to check your name off a list before she parts with you, hugging you tightly one last time and allowing you to kiss the head of the baby on her hip. He’s primarily the reason you remain so nervous. Even if your name doesn’t get called, his could be, someday.

You line up in an open space, next to the last girl that checked in. She wasn’t in your row last year, you would have remembered her. She was pretty, with blue eyes and dark raven hair. Her skin was tanned like most in four, but had a certain glow about it. She’s too pretty to be reaped, you thought. It didn’t make a difference, though. As you stared head on to the bowl on the stage, centered in front of the girl’s side, you got tense. Your name is in there six times this year. That’s three more than last year, and five more than the year before. 

Someone could still volunteer. But the career program had not made mention of producing a female tribute this year. It all depended on the luck of today’s draw. For all you knew, your name would be surpassed by someone else. There were other poverty stricken areas in four besides yours, and it made sense that somebody else could have been hungry enough to outgo you. 

You looked around to the boy's side. Lukas was there, and further up in the rows. He must have gotten here quickly after leaving the docks. His face was sullen, and something had changed, but you were unsure of what it was. When he looked around, you almost thought he’d been looking for somebody, but his expression told a far different story. 

The last few children in the line were filing in, and the musical fanfare blasted through the speakers by the stage. You were grateful not to be so close to those this year. 

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

His rabble was boring, and nearly the same as it was last time. The anticipation was killing just about every girl and boy in this crowd, knowing there were no careers at the ready this year. It was always easier to rest at night while knowing if your name was called, another courageous youngster would step in to take your place. 

“I’m so excited to be back and reaping this year’s tributes for the 71st annual Hunger Games!” 

There was a surge of excitement coming from the sidelines, and it was only now that you looked past the blockades to see that there were actual Capitol civilians standing there this year. How nice, some onlookers for when an innocent child gets sent away to their death. Absolutely wonderful. You looked on past them, towards the victors standing close by. They seemed anxious as well, the old woman holding one fist to her mouth while the other clutched her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and had to take a step every few seconds to keep from becoming too restless. The young man was stiff, his arms behind his back and every muscle in his body tense as a board. His eyeline never left the bowls on the stage. They went through this once, too.

When you refocused on the man at the microphone, your heart beat rapidly. He was approaching the boy’s side of the stage. 

After a small flourish of his hand, the Capitol rep stuck his hand into the glass, two papers in his hand before he dropped one. The dropped paper’s namesake got immensely lucky this year. 

“Harley Miggsen,” he read the paper, but before the peacekeepers had a shot at cornering the poor fourteen year old kid, with his eyes wide in horror, another voice spoke up. 

“I volunteer.” 

Your head snapped to Lukas, his hand raised high in the air. Murmurs started almost immediately about how everyone thought there weren’t any careers prepared. They spoke softly and wondered if there would be a career for the girls, too. Lukas isn’t a career, why would he do this?

“I… guess we have a volunteer,” the man at the mic clapped his hand, watching the young man getting ushered up the stairs to stand beside him on the stage. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Lukas Artanhour, sir.”

“Lukas Artanhour, everyone!” He raised his hand as to signal applause from the capitol guests, and they cheered, happy to see that there was now a potential victor as opposed to that poor boy from before. “Now for the ladies.”

You spared a glance at the victors once more, and they looked even more on edge for this pick than the last. Female victors were obviously more rare in every district, so getting a decent tribute that wouldn’t die right away was probably preferable. You couldn’t imagine all the people they’ve tried and failed to save over the years. The young man won only six years ago, but with no other victors since, that means he’s gone through twelve tributes. All dead, all gone. 

Your mind had been momentarily distracted, or at least it had been until the next name came over the loudspeakers. 

“Mercedes Blythe.” 

It almost didn’t register. 

It almost went in one ear and out the other.

It almost was paid no mind or attention…

But that is your name, and you’ve heard it said a million times since you were a baby. Not once did it ever sound like that, though. 

You stood still until you realized there were peacekeepers on their way to grab you. 

It was slow, the way you took steady steps from your row towards the stage. You couldn’t be rushed even if they tried to make you. You could only look at the ground. You didn’t want to chance looking up and seeing your mother past the blockades. God only knows what she’s thinking and feeling right now. After everything bad happens to a family, the mother of that family should not have to wonder whether her child will live or be killed in an arena. 

You finally looked up when you got to the stairs, meeting Lukas’ eyes first, and seeing they were sad and full of pity. You stood beside the Capitol rep on the other side, allowing him to raise your hands together while the tears finally welled up in your eyes. The delay in your mind was the only one to blame for that. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, district four’s tributes!”

-

Tags (open):

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Iron Man 2: Part One

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Nick Fury sits across from you in the dimly lit room. On the desk in front of you is a file he's been working on since you and Carol parted ways in 1995. He's been waiting patiently for the past ten minutes while you read through it all.

"This is what you were working on after Carol left?" you ask and scan the pages in your hand once more.

"I didn't realize exactly what's out there until you and Carol. I have no idea what we might face, and I think it's about time to bring together exceptional people with extraordinary powers such as yourself," Fury explains.

"What are you trying to put together? Some kind of superhero team?" you chuckle.

"It's good to know what's out there. It's better to be prepared for it."

"You think I'm worthy enough to be in this group?"

"Have you met you? The woman I knew in 1995 would jump at the chance to be on this team."

"I have to admit, you've got some good stuff in here," you sigh and set the file on the table.

"But...?"

"I've seen this kind of thing before. Someone puts together a team of exceptionally gifted people who can do incredible things, but conflict arises and it never works out. Your heart is in the right place, but I don't think your head is. Have you thought this through?"

"More than you think I have. I think with the right motivation, this team can be the greatest thing this world has ever seen."

"I don't know," you bite your lower lip in worry.

"Who survived the Kree not once but twice? Who fought Hydra in World War II? Who helped defeat Stane? Who helped Bruce?"

"Okay, first, Stane was a douchebag in a machine he didn't know how to control. Anyone could have beaten him," you roll your eyes. "Second, Bruce came to me thinking I was a scientist. He heard about me back in 1945, found out how to contact me, and I was there for him. I didn't know what I was signing up for when he went all Hulk on me."

"Think about it, Y/N. This is something that can be truly remarkable with the right people. I already have two agents on board."

"Who?"

"Black Widow and Hawkeye."

You don't know who Hawkeye is but you've heard plenty about the deadly assassin. She's popped up over the years but you've always stayed out of her way in fear she'll start hunting you. Never did you think you'd get to be able to work with her. You take the file from the table and look at Black Widow's section.

Damn, she's gorgeous.

"Is she seeing anyone?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, is she in a relationship?"

"I'm not doing this. Ask her yourself. Take some time and think about it."

He gets up and is about to leave the room when you swivel around to face him.

"How's your eye doing?"

"Don't start," he shakes his head and leaves the room.

Not only do you have this to think about, Tony's speech has been on replay over and over in your mind. You told the world that you were the Avatar while Tony confessed to being Iron Man. The weeks following the press conference have been nothing but chaos as the public made you and Tony celebrities. While you did confess to being able to control the elements, you're not going to tell the world the planet you're truly from. You're not sure they're ready to hear they're not alone in the universe.

Dr. Erskine, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark took it well because they were already working in that area, so it didn't come as a shock to them. Despite being inventors, doctors, and secret government agents, they were scientists. They knew there were other lifeforms out there.

They may have been ready to learn about you, but the rest of the world isn't.

You and Tony have been put in the spotlight, making you two out to be idols. People love the Avatar and Iron Man and often want you two to be out together in public. With his newfound sense of fame, he decided to reopen the Stark Exposition where he showcases all the things he's invented while encouraging people to show off their inventions.

If you know Tony, and you do, he's gonna want to make a grand entrance into his Stark Exposition. He's going to use the suit to fly into the arena with you by his side. To do that, you have to get high, which is why you two are on a small plane to take you to that height.

"I never got the chance to tell you how risky of a move it was to reveal yourself like that," you say to him while you're waiting.

"It's bound to come out sooner or later," Tony shrugs.

"They're going to start asking questions."

"They were already doing it before."

"Life is going to be different for us."

"Eh, what else is new?" he chuckles.

The plane flies higher, and you and Tony get ready to jump out of it.

"So, how are you and Pepper doing? Have you kissed her yet?"

"Don't start."

"What? Come on, you two almost kissed. There's some sort of feelings there, no?"

"I don't know," Tony sighs. "Do I really want to involve her in my life?"

"You need someone like her to keep you grounded. She's been with you for ten years and has done more than what you've asked her to do. She likes you, Tony and I know you like her, too. Tell me, imagine if she wasn't in your life. How would that make you feel?" Tony can't answer because he knows the answer. He knows he'd be devastated. "Exactly my point."

"Two hundred and seventy at thirty knots. Holding steady at fifteen thousand feet. You are clear for exfiltration over the drop zone," the pilot informs.

"Time for show business."

The launch door on the bottom of the airplane opens, and Tony doesn't hesitate to jump out of it. You jump off the landing strip and follow him as he zips through the air at a fast pace. The wind whips through your hair, the breeze is nice against your skin, and you're having fun just flying wherever you please to go. 

Tony takes the lead to the Stark Expo, and he lands on the stage with a loud thump. You're more delicate with your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself next to Tony until your feet are planted on the ground.

Tony has to make this event as grand as it can be which means there are fireworks, a very bright light show, dancing girls dressed like Iron Man, and a raging crowd to greet him. Sure, you told everyone you're the Avatar, but they're more interested in the billionaire. Not that you're complaining, you're content with being in the background.

You take a few steps back to let the machines underneath the stage remove Tony's suit for him. The platform he's on is slowly spinning as robotic arms are dismantling his suit. The showgirls continue to dance in the background until the song that's playing is over. They do some big dance number that you couldn't possibly follow, and they leave once their parts are over with. 

The lights dim to focus on you and Tony.

"Tony! Tony! Tony! Tony!" the majority of the crowd yells. 

Your name is being scattered throughout the crowd, but it's mostly for Tony.

"It's good to be back. You missed me?" he chuckles.

"Blow something up!" a man in the crowd screams.

"Blow something up? I already did that," he dismisses him until the crowd dies down. "I'm not saying that the world is enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years because of us. I'm not saying that from the ashes of captivity, never has a greater phoenix metaphor been personified in human history. I'm not saying that Uncle Sam can kick back on a lawn chair, sipping on an iced tea because I haven't come across anyone who's man enough to go toe-to-toe with us on our best day!"

"It's actually not about us," you chime in. "It's not about you. It's about legacy. It's about what we choose to leave behind for future generations. That's why, for the next year, and for the first time since 1974, the best and brightest men and women of nations and corporations the world over will pool their resources and share their collective vision to leave behind a brighter future."

"She's absolutely right. Therefore, what we're saying, if we're saying anything, is welcome back to the Stark Expo," Tony smiles and the crowd goes wild. "Now, making a special guest appearance from the great beyond to tell you what it's all about, please welcome my father, Howard."

You and Tony leave the stage as the video of Howard starts to play. 

"He looks so young there," you comment after your microphones have been turned off.

"What, you didn't know him like this?"

"I knew him when he was in his twenties. He was bright for his age. He loved inventing."

"Yeah, even more than his own son," Tony scoffs.

"He loved you so much, Tony. Even before you were even an idea. He talked about having children with so much love and admiration. He was a good man. He helped me and Steve become who we are."

"It's nice to know you have fond memories of him," he nods passive-aggressively.

It's clear he doesn't like to talk about his dad a lot, and you don't really understand why. While you were off-planet, he was here building his family. You weren't fortunate in seeing Howard as a parent since you met Tony only a couple of years before his parents died. Tony never liked how Howard parented, but you have a feeling he refuses to see why Howard did what he did.

"I'm sure if he were here, he'd be so proud of you."

Tony doesn't respond to that. He turns away from the screen and pulls out a device that measures his blood toxicity levels. The palladium in the arc reactor is slowly killing him, so he has to check how toxic his blood is every hour. You're working on a cure, but there isn't an acceptable replacement for palladium. The continued use of the Iron Man suit is killing him, and it's very hard to make him see the seriousness of the situation.

Only you know about this because he refuses to tell anyone what's actually happening. He doesn't want anyone to worry about what's going on with him even though they deserve to know. Pepper deserves to know. Even with your vast knowledge of powers and serums, you don't know how you'll be able to fix this one.

If Tony is good at anything, then it's how he throws after-parties once the main one dies down. As soon as the Expo is over, everyone huddles around the front of the building to meet you and Tony. Happy stands in front of you two to carve a path back to the car. Tony stops to sign autographs and take pictures with devoted fans while you keep your head down. You hated your picture being taken in the 1940s and you hate it being taken now.

Pictures are proof you were here.

Happy escorts you to Tony's brand new convertible car while the building's security prevents people from crowding you at the car.

"Very mellow," Tony comments.

"I thought it was going to be worse."

A slim, young woman walks to the car with two men behind her just as you get in the backseat of the car.

"Hi, and you are?" Tony asks as he slides into the front seat.

"Marshal. Pleased to meet you Tony and Y/N."

"I'm sorry, what are you doing here?" you ask.

"Looking for you two," she grins, "and serving subpoenas."

She hands him a piece of paper and he visibly gulps. He hates being handed things, which you never understood.

"Yikes," he mutters. 

"He doesn't like to be handed things. I'll take it," you smile and take the letter she offers. 

"Yeah, I have a peeve," Tony nods. 

"I got it. You two are hereby ordered to appear before the Senate Armed Services Committee tomorrow morning at nine a.m."

"Can I see a badge?"

"You wanna see the badge?" she grins. 

"We'll be there," you interrupt her meaningless flirting. "How far are we from D.C.?"

"Two hundred and fifty miles," Happy answers. 

"We'll be there. Thank you."

Tony turns the car on and takes off toward the highway. It's night right now, but it will be morning by the time you get to D.C.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[partyanimal167]

Helping Out- Grimmjow x Reader

I've been writing GrimmIchi fics for the girlies for years, but just randomly got the thought, I want a little piece of Grimmjow for myself. However, I couldn’t figure out a prompt and used a fanfic trope generator lol. So this is the result of it. I hope to write more and read more from the fandom. 

CW: Canon AU, fluff, black!fem!reader in mind, author knows nothing about medical field (be nice)

For once, Grimmjow might have to thank Kurosaki for something.

Grimmjow couldn’t tell you how he got in this position. But Urahara could! The former-Espada was nagging Ichigo for a fight since the young man kept rescheduling due to his busy medical school schedule. Grimmjow thought himself to be reformed enough (barely) and was patient. BUT! Everyone had their limits. Ichigo was listing excuses and caught up in how his class needed volunteers for an extensive role-play activity. Grimmjow couldn’t really give a damn about the trainings for healing weak human bodies, and flicked a paper projectile at the orange-haired head.

“Are you even paying attention to me?” Kurosaki asked. “No. You haven’t said anything related to rematch or fighting.” Grimmjow replied boredly. Ichigo held his scowl before a light bulb lit up in his head. He might have picked up his mentor’s tendency for plotting. Ichigo offered a deal. He agreed to fight Grimmjow if he agreed to throw on his gigai and show up to help. At first, Grimmjow outright refused. But...it had been awhile since he felt his blood thumping the way it did when going against that supernatural mutt...

Grimmjow yawned as he slumped in a chair while a woman addressed the somewhat eager group of students. He really had no idea what he was doing here. His initial plan was to make everyone as uncomfortable as possible, so he could be asked to leave. However, just as he was about to move his plan into motion, the woman had walked up to him and gently read the card around his neck.

You tried to keep your voice steady as you leaned slightly over and read the card on who was probably the most attractive gentleman in the world. “Here, we have a gentleman who has been waiting rather long in the emergency room while more urgent cases were dealt with. While this can be a frustrating situation for both you and the patient, remember to be reassuring and kind to them. Letting our negative emotions fog our mind can put many people at risks.” You looked into the prettiest blue eyes known to man. There’s no way that could be natural. “I appreciate you waiting sir. I know that you’re in a lot of pain. I’ll be glad to take care of you.” You gave him an affirming squeeze on his shoulder and smiled. You quickly pulled away and addressed the next steps in the process of the man’s imaginary wound.

What the actual fuck was that? Grimmjow was not used to being on the receiving end of genuine care and affection from a stranger. Those were emotions that were rarely showed in his world and even as he visited the World of the Living, he wouldn’t say it was one he received often. He continued to look at the woman who stood near him and spoke to the class. She was dressed in dark blue scrubs that look great on her smooth skin. Her hair was wrapped up in a bun and covered with a scarf. A loc or two peaked out. She radiated confidence as she spoke to the class and continued down the line of pretend patients, answered questions, and encouraged problem-solving from the students. There was definitely something intriguing about this human.

Ichigo jumped when the tall man suddenly appeared at his side at end of the class. “Shit! You need a bell.”

Grimmjow didn't even argue. "Who is that?"

“What?”

“Don’t fucking what me, Kurosaki. Who is that?” he hadn’t even looked at his rival and kept his gaze on you as you chatted with the volunteers and students.

Ichigo looked and tilted his head slightly. “Y/N-san? That’s the teachers' assistant in this department. I don’t know her too well, but she’s really smart. I’ve texted her a few times when I needed help. She-,”

"Will she talk to me if I bring her broken bodies?"

"What-,"

"Actually, fuck it. This gigai can't cause me that much pain. What if I break a bone?"

"What the hell, Grimmjow? She's not a doctor yet. I don't think anyone would want to deal with you if you're doing crazy shit like that."

A pause. “Give me her number.” he still was looking at you.”

“What-”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Grimmjow, I can’t give you her number. It’s creepy to give out a woman’s numbers to strangers. You’re not even a student-,” Ichigo argued.

“Hey guys,” you greeted and smiled, “good answers, Ichigo. It’s nice to see how you experience already gives you a different perspective as your peers.” Grimmjow muttered under his breath as the man received your praise. “Who’s your friend?” 

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez,” he answered and held out his hand as he had seen humans do before. You shook it firmly. He grinned; there was something respectable about a good handshake. 

“Thank you so much for coming, Grimmjow. It’s nice when people from the community use their time to help students out.” you explained.

“I’m always happy to help.” Ichigo tried to not gawk at his lie. 

You nodded and giggled. “That’s so sweet. It can be hard to get people. There’s another one of these later today that I almost had to cancel. I’m still short a person, but I’ll make it work.” you went on a little.

“I can help.”

Ichigo was damn near losing his mind on the inside.

You were a bit surprised, “Oh, uh, I’d love that really, but it’s like three hours from now. I wouldn’t want to mess with your plans for today.” you scratched at your cheek.

Grimmjow snickered and shrugged. “I have no plans today. I can kill some time, find something to eat.”

That gave you an idea. “Well, at least let me buy you lunch then! I couldn’t imagine-,”

“Tch, like hell would I let a pretty woman buy me food. Don’t worry about it.”

You blushed at the compliment. “Huh well,” you reached into your pocket for a random business card you occasionally kept. You underlined a part of it, “Here’s my personal cell. I have to clean up and finish some paperwork, but we can find something close by to eat.”

Grimmjow chuckled as he took the card and looked at it. “It’s a date then.” You smiled then waved at the two men as you walked off.

“Heh, look Kurosaki. Seems I didn’t need you after all.”

The med student just dazed off in the direction that you were just at. “What. The. Actual. Fuck.”

~~~

We have a thing for Grimmjow in uniforms; he should have the same. I slipped in a personal detail with y/n having locs. I never see it (imagine that man gripping on them). I love Ichigo being shocked by a confident, committed Grimmjow. I feel like I can continue this one. I’m gonna go to sleep though. Requests are currently open. Thanks for reading!

[lawlietscaramels]

I think you and 🍰 have mentioned it before, but I’d love to hear your thoughts about the way the musical portrays L. The concept album was my introduction to Death Note as well, but I feel like the L in the songs is a much more dramatic take on L? Which, y’know, makes sense, since it’s ✨musical theatre✨ and all. Like, “The Game Begins” is SO fun, but we’d never get a monologue like it from L in the manga or anime. Idk, the musical paints a bit of a different image of L to me. Not a bad one at all, just a different one.

-🎲

holy space cows 🎲 anon okay let's go! again answering this before my other asks because it's more me rambling than an actual story

GOOOOOD musical L when I first watched the musical I wanted to pick him up take him out of the screen and squeeze him like a stress ball. honestly I loved (love?) him maybe even more than anime L dhdhhdh

I'll put a break in here because I think I'm gonna say a lot

like. he did so many things like anime L (I've never read the manga so I see that L as "base" L) but also I feel had his own quirks. like how he hopped onto chairs (Teen Angst L did this too but because it was screen not stage it felt different. I've done stage acting before so maybe it's just me but screen doesn't feel as close, I just loooove stage acting, UGH. This was also why it was more dramatic in some places, you have to act for the whole audience but, I'm assuming you didn't see it live, WAIT have you even watched the recorded version?? It's on YouTube it's sooo good the subtitles are great too, you can sing along to the songs. it's in Japanese tho. Anyway my point was going to be, because you're acting for people really far away, your movements will be big and dramatic and you'll notice this if it's recorded up close).

HIS VOICE WAS SO NICE TOO like damn this is a fine ass man. His songs, I agree looking back at them they aren't all things anime L would say, especially not unprompted. But I don't think that it was so far out of character that it was unbelievable, you know? I actually think that though yes, the Game Begins was dramatic, that was just the song and not the tone of it, if that makes sense. I'd say songs like Playing His Game and (I can't remember the name but the one LawLight duet they sing at the college? not the tennis one. UGH I know the Japanese...) Anyway, I'd say those songs are more ooc. Cause I think L sees all of his cases as a game, his job as a game. Like yes he cares about human life but he also only takes on interesting cases. I've heard this is more like his manga version, which is kinda cool that this "headcanon" of mine is "canon."

AHAHA anyway the point I was actually going to make with that paragraph was: in the final song (a little ooc but in some lines very in character) L holds this one "O" note that makes me go WEAK IN THE KNEES and of course Light is singing over it at the same time, sobs. This is in the Japanese version. I prefer that version overall, but I like some of the English songs too, like Playing His Game and Requiem. So if you haven't listened to it YOU SHOULD!! It's on YouTube music, you can search up english song name + death note musical. A lot of them are by "LyricNear" I think. and you can ofc watch the full musical. but aaaa the final song breaks my heart but I have to listen to that goddamn note... you guys... you don't understand.

Uh, the musical did of course take some creative liberties. There was no Matsuda which I will always bring up because it is a crime, MUSICAL REMISA WAS THE BEST, the limited runtime cut plots and explanations (I kind of appreciated the ending, though I cried because I was hoping it would end differently), and I don't think they had a Watari. Actually thinking about that, that's probably the most ooc L thing in the whole movie: being able to take care of himself. (well presumably to some degree considering he's still alive at the start)

But yeah... I love musical L... I don't mind when he's ooc because it only disrupts soft headcanons of mine, not hard ones. I also haven't watched it for a while so I may be misremembering some things, but still. Gosh I really want to hug him... his clothes look so soft.... maybe I'll just steal his voice box/j

[zephycluster]

Precolonial HWS SEA Rant Post, feel free to ignore

If you're still reading, then you're probably looking for evidence or some juicy tidbits to throw back at me or to try and find dirt to cancel me, like typical Tumblr/Twitter. Go ahead, I don't really care.

First off, let me just say that If you like Precolonial South-East Asia AUs, feel free to keep enjoying them. I will respectfully support your passions from afar. This post is just to explain why I don't like it, especially the way they keep insisting/portraying PH in it.

Still here? Then let me begin.

Since the recent confirmation that the ASEAN Six Majors (Can't really say ASEAN 10 atm since it's still missing some people) Were completed and the Ma-Phil-Indo Trio was included, there has been a large surge in 'Precolonial' fanarts and portrayals of South East Asians, those three especially.

Even long, long before, circa 2010's ish, a rather well-known fan universe known as 'Maaf' dealt with their story and how their Author thought their intertwined histories went. Written by (my best guesstimate) an Indonesian writer who wants to explore the old, SEA bond.

When I first stumbled across Maaf (I was in Highschool at the time, around age 16-ish), I took a casual interest in it and tried to read it through. But, I will wholeheartedly admit that at the time, Pre-Colonial cultures of South-East Asia in general, let alone Philippine, did not really interest me that much. The focus (I think) was mostly on Indonesia, a country I didn't really know back then, and the liberal use of 'ancient' names and artwork just made it feel like an entirely Original Work (that needed a degree in History to really appreciate) and not something from Hetalia. I also completely disagreed with what I could gather was the story's portrayal of PH but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Do I hate 'Maaf'? No, I don't hate it. Do I wish I never came across it or that it didn't exist? Of course not. Just because I didn't enjoy it or appreciate it that well doesn't mean I wish any ill toward it, its fans, or its creator.

Fast forward to April 2021, the long awaited inclusion of South East Asia to the canon Hetalia verse. I was happy, the other fans were happy, all was good.

Then started the questionable fanarts, fan theories and fan pairings.

Especially the expansion of Precolonial! PH.

Let's go back to Maaf for one moment. From what I understood of Maaf, PH there was a character who once was like all the other South East Asian cultures, trading with them, all around being a nice family.

But all that changed when the Spaniards attacked, so cry the precolonial buffs. They destroyed everything, ransacked and marginalized the tribes, erased everything that PH was!

Did that happen? ABSOLUTELY. The Spaniards had this vision in mind that they must spread Christianity to all of the 'savage, unchristian heathens' of their realm. :V /s

But back up a second, back to PH's portrayal in Maaf. The way she (yeah, she) was portrayed there was that she was slowly losing her memories of being a 'true' South East Asian and grew more and more westernized in the process, like some sort of Culture-specific Alzheimer's or something.

Firstly, that is seriously depressing, and secondly, I just really don't see that happening.

Here's why.

Point 1: Even before Colonial Masters, Filipinos as a people cannot agree on anything.

I'll just begin this segment with a Philippine proverb that outlines what Filipinos call 'Crab Mentality' or 'Crab Bucket Mentality'.

"You don't need a lid for a container when you're keeping multiple crabs. If you keep at least two crabs together, they will just pull each other down instead of helping each other up."

I don't know how it goes with Indonesian or Malaysian history class, but what I know of my homeland, both pre- and post-colonial history, we were never really 'united' or 'together' in the sense that Indonesia and Malaysia were (from what I assume).

Let me pull up a somewhat related question on r/AskHistorians.

The reason I brought this up as it shows the reasons why, in my opinion, a single entity that is 'Precolonial Philippines-tan' is an impossibility.

The answers are long and would extend this already long post to stupid proportions, so I'll just quote relevant sentences. The link is here for those that wanna deep-dive into the answer.

"All this to say that there wasn't a name used for the entire Philippine islands before the Philippines that people now would agree to. An interesting comparison would be the Holy Roman Empire, which might also be characterized as disparate politico-geographic groups of relatively small size that had a history of relations between each other, but one thing they had that the Philippines did not was a common language, or at least a family of mostly mutually intelligible languages, so that the name Deutschland or Germany isn't terribly offensive to anyone. If you called the Philippines the 'Lupang-Tagalog' or even 'Lupang-Tao' the other ethnic groups would protest."

For those in need of translation, 'Lupang Tagalog' means 'Land of the Tagalogs' and 'Lupang Tao' means 'Land of People', specifically. The first one is already exclusive and offensive, as the Tagalog peoples are but one of many ethnicities here.

And for the 'Lupang Tagalog' suggestion specifically, it's even more offensive as they are the majority ethnicity (not by much, just around 28%) From this chart from Geography Now! It would basically be alienating everyone else in the 72% remainder that isn't 'Tagalog'.

And even 'Lupang Tao', the most generic name in a local language you can think of, would be met with contempt because the name itself is in the Tagalog language.

Just travelling between two individual island groups today would sometimes require a translator because the words can change very rapidly and very drastically. Here's a sample of some differences coming from a friend living in Visayas (in Red) vs. the words I know living in Luzon (In blue).

Ate vs. Manang = Older Sister

Ibon vs. Pispis = Bird

Tumawa vs. Kadlaw = To laugh

Takot vs. Hadlok = Fear

Kain vs. Kaon = To eat

Ngayon vs. Subong = Now, at this point in time

Iyak vs. Hibi/Gibi = to cry

Talampakan vs. Tiil = Foot (in Tagalog, the word retains its 'body part AND unit of measurement' meaning)

Tulog vs. Tuyo = to sleep (Tuyo in Tagalog is either a dried salted fish or 'to dry')

The kicker is that just like Tagalog is just one of many languages here, so too is the language my friend speaks. Ask an entirely new person, like someone from Mindanao, they'll probably have an entirely new set of words.

It's not just Luzon vs. Visayas vs. Mindanao, either. Here's a map listing some of the ethnic groups here.

Even the way they're written differs from location to location.

While we're on the subject of Island divisions, a casual skim across Twitter and Tumblr has shown that their Precolonial PH has been one of the following ancient civilizations: Tondo, Butuan, Sugbu, Namayan. There may have been others but that was what I have found.

Notice how even today, the posters of Precolonial PH can't seem to agree on what he's supposed to be? With Indonesia it's either Majapahit or Srivijaya and Malaysia it's usually Malacca iirc.

What is the big deal? Well, let's go back to the Ask Historians post. "Why didn't the Philippines ever change its name to remove the colonial mark that being named after a Spanish King has?" The answer: "If you suggested something dating to precolonial times, the other ethnic groups would protest."

Since we're on a roll with maps, let me bring this up.

As you can see, the precolonial PH posts have a reason to not be able to agree on one thing, as there is a LOT of options. Do you also see how THAT list is also split up?

It's split up into those aligned with China (Sinified), aligned with India (Indianized), aligned with the Middle East (Islamicized), and no alignment (Animist). Now, let's go back to the main suggestions for which Kingdom/Polity/Civilization/whatever Modern Philippines used to be.

If the Filipino peoples' couldn't agree on something as simple as WHAT TO CALL THE LAND THEY'RE LIVING ON, what more a living, breathing, walking, talking entity that is supposed to be a beacon of all of their 'unified' culture? ESPECIALLY if that entity used to be a currently existing Kingdom/Polity/Rajahnate/Sultanate/whatever.

Tondo? "Of course, always the damn Tagalogs. Tagalog this, Tagalog that. First the capital city, then the language,* THE REST OF US EXIST, YOU KNOW! What about us in Visayas? Mindanao?"

*The national language known as 'Filipino' is just standardized Tagalog*

Butuan? "Wait, you want Butuan to represent us? They're they only Indian-aligned city in the Islam-majority Mindanao! They're not even that many of them! I'm not gonna change my religion!"

Sugbu, the other name for the Rajahnate of Cebu on the map? Lemme bring back my Visayan friend again. According to her, she hails from the Hiligaynon part of Visayas.

"Sure :v and the other islands are what?

Chopped liver?

Not to mention the language and writing barrier helloooo"

And Namayan? Well. I'll let this pic speak for itself.

To summarize, no matter who you pick as Modern PH's previous identity, it will not end well nor be accepted by the other Kingdoms at the time.

"So where does that leave Modern PH, he had to have been ONE of them, right?"

Well, not really. He doesn't HAVE to be one of the Ancient Kingdoms that lasted till the modern day. I mean, predecessor representatives exist in Hetalia canon, after all. Like Modern Greece is a different character from Ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt and Modern Egypt, heck even England and his brothers have a canon mother that was the rep before them.

Or you could even use the same logic that Germany does, in that each specific region has/had its own representative and that Modern!PH is just the 'mediator' between them (cause gawd does PH need one). There could be a Tondo, a Namayan, a Butuan, and a Sugbu, all arguing and this Proto-PH is just trying to make headway in making them all satisfied.

But, even after all this, there is another reason why I personally don't subscribe to the 'Precolonial PH' idea, and by tangential extension, the Indo x Phil pairing.

Point 2: Even without intending to, Precolonial Indo x Phil just comes off as patronizing

This second point is just ENTIRELY personal preference and barely has any facts to back it up.

Again, if you like the pairing and disagree with me, You do you. I will respectfully support you and your passions from a distance.

But for me, Indo being Phil's seme/bae/boyfriend and consistently bringing up precolonial times just comes off as patronizing.

Just one more time, I'd like to point out that I am NOT bashing Indonesia, its people or the subscribers of Indo x Phil. This is just how the pairing feels to ME specifically.

The way I see it, Indo x Phil as a pairing, especially if it extends back into precolonial times, reads the same way as a long-since married couple where the husband/wife CONSTANTLY brings up that ONE outing you had together, or that ONE prom night where you kissed while dancing, even it happened like 30 some-odd years ago and so much more happened since then.

Even in a platonic sense, It reads like two besties where one ALWAYS mentions stuff like 'Yeah but you looked so much cooler back in High School' or 'Back in Grade School you would've known that', or 'Remember back in Pre-school we did X? How could you forget that?'

How does one respond to the notion that no matter what you do now, it will never compare to a past you've already forgotten or barely remember? That the best version of 'you' is already long gone?

"That's because the westerners made you forget your culture! You gotta take it back!"

While it is true, yes, as a collective we barely remember the Kingdom that commissioned the Laguna Copperplate, or created the Banaue Rice Terraces, or created the millennia old bonds that we still share with Indonesia and Malaysia.

But to keep pushing the precolonial identity would be to neglect and cast aside the one REAL binding belief and culture that spans the entirety of these islands we call the Philippines.

We take on all the bad stuff that happens to us, conquer it, and make it our own. Be it natural disasters, foreign powers, or negative stereotypical mentalities.

Yes, we've forgotten the ancient kingdoms of old and are just now digging through the closet for those remnants of the past. Yes, the colonizers imposed that on us, and made us forget. But in the process we've also taken everything that they left behind, everything that they threw at us, and created something that can only come from us.

The lanterns that the Spaniards used to light the way to the morning masses they made us attend became our globally known symbol of Christmas. The junked vehicles that the Americans left behind in World War 2 are now rolling works of art that announce themselves loud and proud on the streets (for better or for worse). The iced dessert recipe that the Japanese forced us to learn while they were occupying the country is now so distinct and famous it is synonymous with us, and is so delicious even Italy has taken notice.

Even after all this? Even after all the 425-ish years total we have been under a foreign power, with all the progress we've made as a country, a people, and a nation, you would still imply our fragmented, jigsaw puzzle state of being in the past was better just because it was pure 'South East Asian' like everyone else?

We might not be as well put-together as Indonesia or Malaysia, but we made this melting pot of angry, leg-pulling, dogpiling, Native, Mestizo, Chinoy, and Fil-Am crabs OURS, damnit!

It's now 4:30 AM and I have work in 5 or so hours. I'll be going to sleep now.

[anonthenullifier]

Alright, my headcanon/prompt that's been living in my mind rent free is the idea that Vision doesn't buy Wanda flowers, he buys her vases with sprouts on them, new life ready to grow. When he first heard of people gifting each other flowers he didn't fully understand why you would kill something, and make your loved one watch it slowly wilt away, when you could get them something they'd help survive. After watching so many loved ones die, I just think Wanda would be really touched to help something live and grow (just like her love for him blossoming)

I love this head canon so much. So damn much! I’ve written a story before (It’s About Thyme) that has them planting a garden and nurturing it as a way to mirror their relationship so to say I like to think about them with plants is an understatement. And then your gorgeous head canon looks at it in a way I never thought about and it’s perfect. Thank you for sharing it!

Here’s a little fic that came to mind as I was reading your ask. I hope you like it!

—

To say Vision is perplexed would be an understatement. Which is itself surprising because he has come to a tentative theory that to be human is to be irrational, and yet this, this crosses a line of reasoning he cannot begin to fathom. Typically he would have Wanda here to volley his concerns towards and to then explain in however many examples and phrasings that it takes for him to understand. Except he is here covertly, under the expert opinion of Sam, to procure a token of affection for all that Wanda provides him. Which brings him to a standstill of indecision waltzing along with a niggling horror at all the implications.

Luckily for him, he hopes, there is a sales associate close by. “Pardon me?” The man turns towards him, brown apron emblazoned with stitched on daisies and a name tag that reads Samuel, a fitting name since the other Samuel in Vision’s life suggested this course of questionable action. “I was advised that purchasing and gifting flowers is a socially appropriate way to convey affection.”

Samuel’s eyes squint for half a second, a common reaction whenever Vision goes out in public. “Uh, yeah. What does your special um,” this scanning over of Vision’s body is also common, uncomfortable, but he does his best to act unperturbed otherwise it might stoke potential fear into ire from his observer, “individual like? We’ve got roses, carnations, lilies, daisies, asters. Anything float your boat?”

If this decision were a boat it would be taking on waves at the moment. “But all of these have been removed from their roots.”

“Yeah, kinda the whole point of making a bouquet.”

The sass is not appreciated but Vision believes in remaining polite because the attitude of the man could be compounded with mistreatment from other customers or negative life events and not solely due to Vision’s inquiry. “Does that not mean they will wilt and die?”

Samuel does not share the distaste for this thought, a simple shrug and a rather unhelpful piece of advice given, “They all come with flower food, helps them stay fresh a bit longer.”

“I see.” Vision determines this issue may be best cogitated alone, so he sends a polite, tight lipped smile towards the man, “Thank you, Samuel.”

“Yep.”

The man leaves and Vision continues his stare down with the beautifully variegated display case in front of him. The differing colors and petal shapes form a kaleidoscope of awe, one that feels romantic and wispy and desirable. Except they will all wilt, the petals will curl up and fall to the ground, and within a week it will be in the trash. His love is not so brief, so fragile and he is perplexed as to why he would present Wanda with a token that cannot survive. Would it not imply his love will fade? That he will, even if fed her own love and passion and attention, eventually fall away from her? Even if she were to dry them out, like he has seen Laura do at the Barton farmhouse, it would require her to keep them someplace safe and to never touch them, the lifeless remnants too delicate and brittle for anything other than distant observation—a poor metaphor for his intended message.

Wanda has endured so much already, the memories as vivid as the Tiger Lily in front of him, days of listlessness and tears, evenings brimming over with invasive memories of all the deaths and all the pain, the only salves he could offer were strong arms and gentle reassurances. Why would he gift her something that will also die? Provide a further suggestion that her life must always be dictated by loss? Why would anyone, rational or not, believe temporal brevity a better show of love than something lasting?

Vision turns away from the bouquets, prepared to leave the store and find somewhere quiet to reassess his gift. It is this defeated swivel that brings a small display into his view, one tucked away as if it was an afterthought. On it are simple clay pots of various sizes, bags of potting soil heaped on the ground next to it, and a little table top rotating kiosk of seed packets awaiting to be planted and nurtured into a long and beautiful life. Vision’s lips curl up at the new idea in his head.

————

There is a subtle chime to her left, in the general vicinity of her door. It is the closest he ever gets to a knock. Wanda puts her book down and waits for the unmistakable gleam of vibranium and the glow of Vision’s phasing to come through the wall located mere inches from her fully functioning door. “Hey Vizh.”

He pauses, irises twisting rapidly to the left and lips puckered as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. Which would be not using her door and yet he still persists and still always makes this face, and it’s a welcome joy in her day. “Good afternoon, Wanda.” Unlike usual, his hands remain behind his back, pulling the threads of his synthetic sweater into a tension similar to his body. “I, um, brought you something.”

Hoping to ease his nerves, she shuffles to the side a bit and then pats the mattress, inviting him to come over and haltingly lower himself to the bed, body remaining twisted to hide whatever it is. “What is it?”

Slowly he brings his arms into view and in his right hand is a clay pot with a little seed packet inside, all wrapped up in a red bow, and in his left is clenched a small bag of soil. Wanda shares her gratitude with a smile, scarlet twining around the gifts and bringing them to her hands to inspect them closer. “I had been informed by a trusted associate that flowers are considered the socially acceptable gift for conveying affection.”

Gently, soothingly she offers a minor correction, knowing he doesn't like to be embarrassed by misinterpreting social advice. “Usually they mean a bouquet.”

A grave nod accompanies his, “I am aware.” Vision lifts his hand, waving it around to help usher out the full story, “But it seemed incongruous to provide you a fleeting gift for a sentiment that is not so,” he hesitates, maybe because he realizes the implication himself or because he can see it in the growing smile on her face, either way he’s committed to the admission of how long he sees this new relationship going and she’s hoping he won’t back down now. And he doesn’t, even if he stammers through it. “brief. I would rather my affections be shown in an appropriately long lasting form.”

Experiencing the fascinating way his mind works is always a pleasure and, due to listening to him and learning the way he thinks and feels, she understands it perfectly, feels a deep, warming thankfulness at this chance to play a hand in allowing something to live and grow, a chance she’s been denied so much before. Wanda ropes him closer with her powers and firmly plants a kiss to his nervous smile. “Thank you.” She unwraps the bow and studies the picture of a happy sunflower, a little confused. “I didn’t think these were indoor plants.”

“Oh well,” now that an explanation that is not tied to emotions is needed, he loosens up, “they are meant to be started and nurtured indoors and then, once large enough, can be moved outside or to a greenhouse.”

“Do we have a greenhouse here?”

Vision considers this, lips parted as his thoughts tick away. “Well no, but it could be enjoyable to convert one of the older equipment sheds into such a structure so we could have a year round garden.”

This simple gift blossoms into something bigger, something rooted in a hope for a future together. “I think it would be fun.”

“Yes,” Vision slips back into a slight, carefully paced cadence, “I selected this particular flower because it is often symbolic of adoration, loyalty and um,” he acts as if his actions have not already made it clear, as if his words should be a surprise, one he isn’t certain she’ll like, “longevity.”

Wanda offers a sunny smile, hoping to sear away any question as to her appreciation and reciprocal feelings, “I love it.” An equally exuberant curve forms on his lips. “Want to help me plant it?”

His instantaneous and joyful, “Of course,” is all it takes to settle them into a path towards a life and love they’ll nurture together.

[mr-nauseam]

The books I

I'm doing this because Sungroth asked me to do to be honest. And I don't really know how to review books so let's see how I'll do it. Let's start with my purchase of these books.

The story is this; I had been waiting for over 10 years to complete my collection of Sherlock Holmes books. Actually this was my childhood fandom, my sister just loves Holmes and when I showed an interest in mysteries and crime/detective series, she decided to lead me down the "right path" but in that time we only had "A study in Scarlet", "The hound of Baskerville" and "The valley of Fear". It was many years before we were able to read the other works bc we didn't have much money these days.

But recently I had a small miracle of money.

I was saving for my pc but in the end my dads bought it for me because it became a necessity for my school and I had that money free for first time after ten years of anothers expenses (transportation, jobs, my pets' health and needs, my own physical and mental health, etc) so I lost my control and I went running around the streets spending my money, literally.

I bought my books in second-hand bookstores, just because, I have never been interested in those "special editions", "x publisher did x thing or detail" things, they are nice but they were always impossible to get for me, so I stopped wanting them a long time ago, I prefer the content before the rest and they are cheaper, much cheaper than the other bookstores (at least in my city). So I went far away from home (literally 2 hours away hahahaha) and got into alleys of bookstores like that.

It was a complicated search, I wanted to get only my missing pieces and all I found were damn compilations (they are great but at that time they were a big obstacle to my mission), I didn't want to repeat stories either, I didn't see the point but after a long time I managed to get them.

What we get it:

(A Study in Scarlet & The Sign of Four)

My STUD book was the cheapest and it was practically brand new. There is nothing wrong with it, so I guess it must have been a personal reason why it ended up there in that used bookstore, it has paperback and a lovely little hat that separates the parts.

Ah yes, I said before that we already had this book, so why did I buy it again? because my sister and I split the books, she got this one because she enjoyed it from the first moment, she deserved to have it before me, because you should know that this is the book I like the least of all the canon, it was even the reason why I almost abandoned my attempt to read Holmes, while on the contrary it was this book the one that made my sister fall in love with the characters. Now I appreciate it more than in my childhood but it's not very special to me. 8/10.

The sign of the four was the only one I bought in a more commercial bookstore, because I couldn't find it anywhere else. It was a fun search because I was told it was in a bookstore but since there are several branches it turned out to be in the wrong one so I went around a lot to get it. Still is paperback but a little more firmer, it's pretty good although the type of caligraphy inside makes me a little dizzy. And sadly it doesn't have any adorable hats to separate the parts. I find the cover very curious because it gives me more of a Baskerville vibe than a SIGN vibe. (8/10).

(This a compilation of The Return of Sherlock Holmes-His Last Bow- The Valley of Fear and the other book is The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes).

My two jewels.

These books are hardcover and were a fucking stroke of luck. I was so happy to get them that I didn't mind repeating. I already had "The Valley of Fear", because it was that book that made me fall in love with the characters and interested in the canon, but I didn't mind repeating my favorite long novel.

The red compilation book is beautiful, it even has a red ribbon inside, the font is a bit smaller than what I'm used to but it is very clear (much more than for example the one in SIGN) so I dont feel any dizzy! 10/10

The book of adventures was a case of "never judge a book by its cover", you have to admit the image on the cover is not bad but it is far from be nice. I only noticed that it had the complete chapters and when I opened it what a surprise! It's beautiful inside and has Sidney's original artwork! The font of this one are my favorite and it was one of the cheapest so hey this was incredible, I can hit someone with it because it is light and hard and I can see images like these: 10/10

PD: There's a tragic story of me asking in every bookstore I found and no one knew who the fuck Raffles or E.W Hornung was. So tragic

[bxllafanficc]

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part six)

Part one. Masterlist!

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Your POV*

(Next morning)

"A-achooo!"

You jolted out of your sleep when the loud sound hit you. Half-asleep, you fumbled after a potential threat and thrashed with your legs to get out of bed. Your eyes weren't even open yet and you heard a shocked shriek from Magnolia before something skipped across the sheets and disappeared. You threw the blanket off you, threw yourself to the left to shake it away and-

*Thud*

Ow. You opened your eyes, finally. There was no attack, obviously. If your dream hadn't been about being the captain of a pirate ship as you were in the middle of getting attacked by the Englishmen, there would've been no reason to react that way, you thought.  The loud sound was the sound of a canon ball about to hit you, you'd figured. You let the impact of the floor stone you and you just laid there, thinking of what you were currently doing with your life; too tired to move.

"...(Y/n)? Did you- ... Are you dead?"

Hmmm, wait. Yuri, r-right. He saw that totally.

You rose to your knees and slowly peeked over the bedside, upon Yuri's weary gaze. Only your eyes were visible of course. No point in giving him the chance to see your red tainted cheeks after such an embarrassing act.

"(Y/n). What... are you doing?" His voice thick and dry, almost hoarse. He looked at you with his eyes barely widened. You then noticed how awfully colorless his skin was. Well, except for the redness around the base of his nose. Heavy bags under his eyes displayed on his features as well.

"What in the- Well you seem to have had a rough night, Plisetsky." It wasn't particularly an insult. He did look like the ceiling had been falling in on him and as if he had no choice to carry it the entire night. Yuri gave you a snort and leaned back in his bed.

"Shut up, Duchess."

You picked up your fallen blanket and placed it on top of the bed as you eyed the skater. Then the feeling of Magnolia bumping his head against your leg made you look down and sigh.

"Yeah whatever, Punk." You cradled the large cat in your arms and scratched his chin. 'Sorry, darling. I'll make it up to you...' You whispered in the cat's ear and kissed the top of his head. A purr started drumming from his belly but was quickly drowned out by another loud sneeze and a cough right after.

'Oh my, he isn't... Right?' You thought and the Russian boy sniffled harshly. Even Magnolia gave you a 'What's the matter with him?' look. You made your way to his bed and was met with swimming eyes. Even the stunning shade of blue and sea green had faded slightly and had been replaced with a grayish contrast.

"Yuri... Did you get sick from the waterfall yesterday?" You placed the back of your hand against his forehead and the heat hitting you almost made you retract it immediately. That, however, was done anyway by Yuri briskly swatting your hand away with a groan.

"'M fine!" He's burning up with a fever and he's laying here, lying straight to your face while looking close to passing out any minute. Another sneeze and you had decided what to do next.

"I'm calling Yakov that there will be no training for the following days. You get rested."

"No! I-I don't have such time! I'll practice anyway!" He sat up immediately and bore his gaze into you. You assumed that it was meant to be seen as fierce and energetic but it more looked like the kind of stare a drunk person trying to stare his way through solving a math-problem. You gently but firmly laid a hand on his chest at the intention to hold him back from straining himself any further. His gaze met yours with newfound shock and you ignored the feeling of a loud *thump* pulsing through your hand from inside his chest. A slight stutter was heard before you pushed him back down onto the mattress and held him still for a moment. 'Stay.' Was the message that thankfully got through.

"Rest and I'll be back soon, okay? You're not doing anything until you've recovered." Your words were stern but only a nod was seen from the boy as his eyes were intensely fixated upon your hand holding him down. Just then you noticed the rest of his face had turned red and damp from sweat as well, almost sure that it hadn't been there before. 'Oh no, his body turned hotter just now and his heart is beating out of his chest. Better get him some breakfast and call Yakov immediately before he dies or something.' And with that, you left the room and headed towards the kitchen.

You were making some hot chicken soup on the stove when Victor made his way into the hall and saw you, immediately stopping to see what you were up to.

"Smells delicious (Y/n). What are you making? Can I try?" He peeked above your shoulder and gasped lightly. Your shoulders were cradled by his arms from behind and he pushed his weight onto you, causing you to stumble.

"Pleaseeee?"

"Okay, okay! But just a spoon, alright? It's to Yuri." Victor sheered and waved at Yuuri as he as well now joined them in the kitchen. Next moment a spoon was dipped into the soup and the man started fussing about how great it tasted. He then made Yuuri try it as well meanwhile he stood beside you, taking low.

"A soup only to Yuri, huh? I'd say you're growing rather fond of him at this point. Is it 'made with love' as well?"

"Yuri's come down with a fever from yesterday's adventure. I cancelled his practice with Yakov for the rest of the week. Meanwhile, he said Yuri should think about choosing his music and a possible theme for his skating program this year so Yakov can go ahead and choreograph it in time for his return. Maybe you could help him with the theme and all that? I think he'd appreciate a little push into the right mind of thinking."

Victor fell silent and scratched the top of his head as he stared into the soup. You were heading to grab some red shiny apples and rinsed them under the water flow of the sink.

"How unfortunate that he'll have to postpone his practicing like that... Of course I'll help! Though, it's still a little suspicious of you nursing him back to health, I must say.

"Oh, just quit it, will you?"

"How are you feeling? You look pretty washed up." You pushed the door open and was met with Yuri scrolling on social media. His leg slumped over the other, laying on his back. You knew exactly why the media had been the center of his attention. Yesterday's news blew up around the entire world and people are freaking out on social media. But it wasn't just that. A few already silenced fans of the other figure skating idol's wrote about how it wasn't fair to the rest of the competing programs to have such an advantage. Some even went as far as speculating about Yuri Plisetsky already being so sure on winning this season's Grand Prix and with that, that arranged tour with you. As if  he hired you as coach because of that. To get to know you before the big collaboration between the two competitions.

"I always do. No point in rubbing it in though." You put the soup down on a little nightstand you pulled in front of the bed. Followed by the soup came a glass orange juice and a tray with star-shaped apple-slices. He grabbed the spoon you handed him and gave you a quiet 'thanks' before attacking the food.

"That's really not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I implied you look tired. That's what washed up means." You grabbed a chair from your desk and but it beside him on the floor. He looked slightly bugged that you'd be staying so close to him like that. Maybe he worried about another person getting sick but probably not. It was you at risk in this matter and he didn't exactly care about you, you knew. And yes, getting sick is a down step for a singer since the recovery can be slow and painful. But you didn't really care this time. Besides, you wouldn't be starting this season of We Are Voice in a good month anyway.

"You meant ugly though." His words were subtle and caused you to blink, slightly dumbfounded. Why did he say those things so casually about himself?

"You're never ugly, Yuri."

Wasn't he the one with confidence and pride worth a tiger's during last season's Grand Prix? It feels a little out of place somehow. For him to put himself down after only been doing it to others before.

"Say what now?" He took an apple slice between his fingers and inspected it before chewing it up with a mouth of orange juice.

"... You're actually really pretty... if only your personality wasn't to nasty though..."

You just felt like saying it, honestly. You felt like maybe he needed to hear it. And the parted lips and the wide stare you received from him revealed that you just might have been right. But he quickly read into the following sentence of your exclamation and shook his head.

"H-Hey!" The insult clearly hit the right spot as well judging by the pout and the blush. You flashed him a grin and let a loud laugh escape your lungs.

"Just eat your damn soup,Plisetsky!"

"Hey um... " You looked up from the book you had been reading. Yuri was finished with his breakfast and had been eying you for a good long minute in secret before deciding to speak up. You had just decided to ignore it and figured he'd say something if he felt like it.

"I have been wondering. So the reporter called you The Aubade Duchess yesterday... What does that stand for anyway?" The events of yesterday hit you in the gut once again. The loud screaming and the now so familiar pressure around you. They had been calling you The Duchess of (nationality) ever since your first year at the senior league of We Are Voice where you came in third. You hadn't been competing as a junior the years before but you were immediately a favorite of the people. Then, your second year, you won first place and earned the word 'aubade' to your fan made title. Last year, even though your competition grew more hellbent on winning, you came in first place once again. Your own coach had promised your fans a third golden success for this years finals. The title kind of stuck as you grew up on the stage.

"Right, that. Aubade stand for 'a love song which is sung at dawn', I have been told. It's silly, really." You turned to watch a certain detail in the marble floor, expecting some kind of teasing to come next. But the room fell silent for a moment and your eyes sought the reason behind the reaction.

"It suits you." It had been quiet. But you heard it nonetheless. Yuri wasn't meeting your gaze either but noticed your stunned surprise anyway.

"W-well, I mean... No- maybe? I don't know! It sounds ridiculous, just like you! God, you're so clingy and asking too many questions all the time."

He's been acting so... strange from his usual behavior. Like the fever has turned him into a less tense and distrustful version of himself almost. Wasn't he able to think straight? Perhaps you should treat him as a drunk person after all.

Even though your hand had been previously swatted away, you still put it to his forehead anyway. It was as hot as the first time and the heat made you snap back to your current situation.

"Shit. You're burning up... maybe I should-" You were cut off by Yuri leaning into your hand and closing his eyes. His entire posture screamed 'about to pass out'.

"Your hand... feels cool and nice..."

What the hell? Yeah he's as good as drunk. Wait no- you should call an ambulance, right. This is really bad.

"Oh. Should I get you a damp towel?" You were just about to retract your hand. To leave the room and attend to his fever once again but you were stopped. The Russian Punk took a weak hold on your wrist and held your palm close to his forehead. He sniffled once more before nuzzling into your hand with a little sigh. One more sniffle and he was out.

Light breathing was heard and he was finally asleep. On you, though. You couldn't even reach your phone to dial the hospital. You didn't want to scream for help either because it might have woken him up. But then, you couldn't help but feel a tad of relief as you were finally given a (kind of) break for a few moments.

But you had stuff to do. Those towels wouldn't wet themselves and you better prepare them for him. You began the attempt to remove your hand as carefully as you could but were immediately cut off by the soft mumble of a sound asleep Yuri.

"Mm... Don't you dare go anywhere."

...Okay then.

[janiedean]

I have to tell you something but PLEASE, please, don't be mad. I love Brienne, and I loved her with Jamie, and I'm mad and sad that they didn't get to have their happy ending...but I don't think his ending was shit. Or OOC. First at all, book!Jamie is not TV!Jamie: his relationship with Cersei is different, not as sick or manipulative. He loves his siter and is loved by her in a more "helthier" way: in the show she told Tywing the truth about them, and it's huge considering the love for power1/?

He watched her lose their 3 children, he learned about her walk of shame to get back to Tommen, he witnessed Robert’s humiliations. I think he would have stayed with Brienne if she knew his sister was safe, but he couldn’t be happy if his siter died and he did nothing to save her. He needed to be that person, otherwise all his growth would be lost, and he would have dragged Brienne in his spiral, and he didn’t want to make her miserable. To me he is still an honorable man, bc when there was a chance to do something, he did it: he killed the king to save KL, he fought the dead army, but over and over he said that the Lannister army didn’t stand a chance against the dragons or the Dathraki, he was not a fool. His speech was not about NOT CARING, it was about knowing there was nothing he could have done. He did good, he was good, and till his last moment he tried to be honorable, he tried to be the person Brienne inspired him. P.s.: Still heartbroken that he died, but I think there is some poetic justice with Cercei crashed by the symbol of the power she tried lo long to hold.

anon, I appreciate that you’re being nice and I appreciate that you’re trying to find some sense in this entire thing, but… okay, I’ll go over it and please don’t take me as *me* being mad or whatever but I don’t think a few things were clear here so I’ll try to do it now:

jc in the show is not healthier. it might be different, but it’s not and the fact that it might have been less obvious doesn’t mean that they didn’t drag that toxic mess out for four seasons when it had no reasons to exist. now: I was down with looking at it until s4 because that was book canon and I can deal with book canon. I had to look at three more fucking seasons of that toxic abusive mess happening and I don’t know if it’s obvious or not, but if I have one thing, like one in the universe that I can’t deal with, that I hate and that makes me feel sick more than anything else it’s emotional/psychological manipulation. and show!jc has that in spades and I can’t. like, as it is right now I’m pretty damn sure I’d take reading explicit thramsay fic that ends horribly with annexed detailed fanart than even rewatching five seconds of a scene where those two are in the same frame and is2g if they had kissed at the end of 8x05 I’d have thrown up. please for the love of everything if you think it’s better than book canon your prerogative, but don’t come at me informing me of that because I can’t. especially not right now;

I honestly can’t give much of a damn about the stuff c. suffered when 80% of that is her damn fault and I’m especially talking about tommen who only did that because she gave zero shits about his opinion in anything but we’re supposed to think she’s a good mother or that she cares which makes me especially sick because people have decided that for her out of nowhere when we all know how much leeway they give catelyn for that and I’m honestly done with it, and maybe it’s not inconsistent that he’d care, but it’s inconsistent how they wrote it;

because I mean if they showed some half-regret over leaving brienne or she was mentioned or if the entire thing was addressed instead of spending four episodes building it up and then did in four minutes what it took six feet under an entire season to do with nate and brenda back in the day is bad writing, has no consistency, it also murdered tyrion as a character because I can’t believe that in the span of two episodes he goes from I’m happy that you’re happy to WELL I DON’T HATE MY SISTER SO MUCH JUST GO TO PENTOS when ah, wait, c. sent bronn to kill both of them?

also ‘who ever cared abotu the innocents’ or whatever the fuck that line was??? wow, that’s all this asshole has ever cared about in canon to the point of losing his reputation for it not counting c. or tyrion at least in the very beginning of the series when everyone thinks he’s an ass, and I have to buy that this episode was halfway decent writing?

also: even if I was okay with jaime’s ending - which I could have been if at least it amounted to something because that entire episode was a plot hole after plot hole (where’s widow’s wail? he waves WITH THE FAKE HAND??? WTF??, did he ring the bells so he actually helped destroy the city without knowing dany would lose her shit through jon connington’s ghost possessing her? if bran didn’t rat him out bc he had A ROLE TO PLAY what was the damned role since he hasn’t done anything until now that warranted it??? just the first four) and he didn’t even… help cersei or take her out like he literally was there to just give her some basic human comfort and rocks fall everyone dies, what’s the sense of it?? -, anon, this entire narrative leaves brienne horribly;

because sorry but in the best of chances she’s not pregnant and someone lies to her and tells her jaime went there to stop cersei and tried to be honorable (which given what they made him say about not caring for the innocents makes it bad writing but nvm) and she can think okay, I waited years for the right guy to trust/open myself to and then he left me like that but at least he did it for a good reason now will I ever trust anyone again, maybe, and I assure you that getting over such a thing is not too easy, but that would be the best option. mid-bad option: she still thinks he did it for the right reasons but she’s pregnant so hey, she has an illegitimate child from a man who left her like that to go into a senseless death making her believe she was wrong about him and breaking her heart and she has to play single mother in tarth without him or maybe she can hedge knight along with the kid or leave him with pod or smth but that doesn’t look good on jaime either. or worse, she’s pregnant and she finds out he went just to die with cersei and didn’t even mention her or anything to tyrion along the way so she did all of the above…. for a guy who at the end of it as the narration puts it just went back to die with c. and a kid he didn’t even know might be real or not when she could have given him what he always craved/wanted/needed and left her like that? like, anon, even if it was a good ending for jaime, there is no bloody way that brienne gets out of this mess of a season with a dignified ending unless they somehow manage to pull a miracle out of their arses and sorry but their writing has been so bad that I honestly doubt it, not even david milch showing up like the calvarly could salvage this crap of a finale, and for all characters tbqh, not just them;

on top of that, sorry but it passes the message that brienne, only rep. in this show for nonstandard attractive people who spends years thinking she’ll never find love and suddenly thinks she can be happy with the guy who also fulfilled her greatest dream and opens herself up to him putting her vulnerability on the line (and while I don’t really think the whole virginity thing is that much of an issue since she actually did manage to give it to the guy she wanted it does mean something in this context)…………. shouldn’t have done it because wow, left like that without a second thought and without being addressed in the next episode at all by at least tyrion who has spent the previous four episodes either admiring her or trying to get her and jaime together never mind jaime? wow, I mean, I surely signed up to see the character I always saw myself in getting this shit treatment by people who obviously didn’t understand either her or jaime at the bottom of it for as much as I still think 8x04 did it right until the end?

anon, I appreciate your optimism about that narrative, but this episode was so badly written that it managed to about destroy the narratives of characters that weren’t even in it (sansa and brienne, and let’s not even discuss sansa because lmao), to have every single person but davos and possibly jon but meh behave ooc given what half of their lines said if not their actions because even if we take jaime’s actions as your reading (legit) what they made him say was still atrocious and ooc and same for tyrion, let’s not even touch dany or sandor/arya or really anyone that wasn’t davos. I cannot, in all good conscience, find anything good about this mess because it was badly written. period. even if we decide that the plot and motivations were fine and we try to make them make sense the way you did, the execution was shit, the dialogue was shit, it looked like they weren’t even trying, it did a disservice to every single character that was in it except davos who was there for five seconds to smuggle stuff and I honestly, honestly, cannot even find the force of will to try to make sense of it.

this entire season has been a gigantic plot hole, it wasn’t coherent within its own narration see ep. 2 clashing with ep. 8, 90% of what happened post 8x02 was for shock value without giving a single fuck about making it look in character and making the characters behave nonsensically - and I don’t mean just jaime, I mean all of them to serve the undoubtedly wtf shocking ending they have in plan for us which if I guessed already I’ll hate with the force of a thousand suns, and I’m honestly done with trying to make sense of this thing because nothing makes sense anymore. I appreciate that y’all are trying but I give up. I can’t make sense of a narrative that goes like ‘we’re doing this because it’s cool and if it doesn’t add up with everything we did before who gives a fuck’, and I honestly can do without trying to find a silver lining in a show that has totally twisted the message of the books and turned into an angst fest for which everyone has to be miserable at all costs or it’s not good tv, and that’s the last I’m going to say about this specific matter because:

a) I’m tired, b) I want to finish my spitefics and ignore this mess ever happened and concentrate on doing something that makes me happy, c) if I just keep on thinking about how bad this was IN GENERAL I wish jaime was my #1 problem I just feel worse and I don’t need it, d) the fact that they did brienne this dirty and she wasn’t even in this episode is really leaving the worst sour taste in my mouth and it’s already bad enough that I have to hope her ending is only 80% crap and not 100% crap, I honestly can’t with discourse that tries to find any basic sense in how this episode was conceived and executed beyond my problems with jc, jaime’s writing and the fact that they managed to get wrong one of his three most basic character traits that has nothing to do with brienne or jb for that matter.

thanks for being polite and nice about this and I swear I’m not mad but I honestly can’t with this episode and I would appreciate if from this point on anyone could refrain from trying to make jc sound better than it is where I can see it/where I can’t blacklist it because it’s really not a good idea right now. thanks again and have a possibly nicer than than mine. ;)

[blogofawimpykid]

Don't let the hard work go to waste

Man of the house

Roland X Harper

Canon: Harper helps Roland recover from being stood up

1100 words

"Damn," Barb sighed, checking the time again.

"She's totally not coming," Harper said. Sharpe's date had been scheduled for an hour and a half ago, and Molly, Harper and Barbs English professor, had definitely bailed.

"We should go talk to him. He probably feels bad."

"I'll do it."

"No, we'll both go," Barb insisted.

"You have a paper to write," Harper pointed out. "I'll give him your condolences." Barb reluctantly closed the webcam window on her laptop and searched for her writing program as Harper climbed out of the bed, careful not to wake the rest of the girls sleeping in a pile ontop of the mountain of blankets there. Sharpe was sitting on the couch when Harper made it downstairs, bouquet of flowers tossed dejectedly aside. "Well..." Harper began, coming into the living room and pulling her jacket tightly around her shoulders.

"Well I guess this proves yall wrong. I'm just not cut out for dating-"

"Maybe not. Maybe you two just weren't right for each other. It happens." Harper threw a couple pillows to the ground and sat down on the end of the couch. Roland glared in her direction, but didn't tell her to move.

"Where the rest of the funky bunch?"

"Asleep. They got tired of waiting."

"So why are you still up?"

"Me and Barb wanted to cheer you on. She's working on her paper now. I told her I'd come cheer you up."

"Well, you don't have to do that."

"No. But I want to."

"Why?"

"We're all hurt too, you know," Harper said with a shrug. "We put about as much work into this date as you did."

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss." Roland looked over at Harper, loosening his tie as he did so. "Did yall eat dinner?"

"I'm starving," she admitted, ignoring the question.

"Well, there's a big pot of five alarm chilli in the kitchen that's not gonna eat itself."

"Jalapeños?"

"Lots." Sharpe stood, stopping to throw his tie in the direction of the recliner, where it landed like a snake on top of the wilting bouquet. "C'mon." He stuck out his hand and pulled Harper from the couch. "You should take those flowers up to your room when you go. Not much use for 'em down here."

"Didn't Anne pick some pretty ones?" Harper commented, before realizing that she was essentially making first date small talk.

"She did a great job. Yall all did good helping me out with tonight, and I really appreciate it, and I'm sorry it's going to waste."

"It's not! I'm helping you appreciate all of our hard work. Right now." Sharpe chuckled.

"Do you mind taking us some drinks in there to the table while I fix us some of this chilli?"

"Sure. What do you want?"

"Just one of my  root beers. You want cornbread with this?"

"Absolutely."

"Of course you do." Harper pulled two drinks from the fridge, a bottle of root beer for Roland and her own water bottle, and took them into the dining room. Unbeknownst to her, Barb had gotten bored upstairs, and out of curiosity had opened her web cam back up to check on Harper and Sharpe. She hadn't expected to see Harper lighting the candles set in the middle of the table, holding back her own laughter as she did.

"That bitch," Barb whispered to herself, before suddenly being hit with the realization that she wasn't actually jealous. She had never really liked Sharpe to begin with. In fact she was starting to see him more as a father figure, or a grumpy old uncle. "Nevermond," she whispered, for her own sake.

"Here you go." Sharpe came in from the kitchen and handed Harper her bowl. She sat down and he took the seat across from her. "Why are the candles lit?"

"Appreciating all the girls hard work."

"Alright." They started to eat in silence, and Harper had to resist the urge to scarf down her chilli like a starved child. Ever since Sharpe moved in, she had been eating better than she had in years. He had done more than just keeping her and the other cheerleaders alive; he was literally helping her thrive.

"So why is The Sound of Music your favorite movie?" She asked, when she was about halfway through her bowl.

"Well, why is Titanic your favorite movie?"

"It's romantic. It's historical, it's got Bill Paxton in it."

"Well, that'll do it, I guess," Roland chuckled. "I always loved the romance in Sound of Music. And Julie Andrews." Harper laughed than. "So how's your Romeo and Juliet paper coming?"

They talked for the rest of their meal about movies and books, and the kinds of details in both that Harper didn't get to talk about often. Neither of them knew, but over an hours had passed since they first sat down, when Sharpe finally got up to clear the dishes. Harper stood as well, her own bowl in her hands.

"No, I'll do that. You go on upstairs and get to sleep. Unless you're sleeping down here tonight."

"I think everyone is having a sleepover in Barbs bed, actually. That's probably the warmest place in the house right now."

"Well... come back and grab an extra blanket off the couch if you get chilly." Haroer nodded, and started out of the room. "I had a nice time tonight. Thank you."

"I did too," Harper said sincerely.

"Don't forget about those flowers."

"I won't." Harper went immediately to the living room to get the bouquet before running up the stairs. Barb was waiting for her eagerly, practically bouncing off the bed.

"He likes you!" She whispered sharply, as soon as Harper made it up the stairs.

"What?" Harper whispered back, passing by the opened door to get to her own room.

"Sharpe! He likes you. The camera was still on downstairs, so I listened to you guys while I worked."

"Are you crazy!?" Harper made a u-turn and leaned back into Barbs doorway.

"Harper, listen to me. Yes, he's ancient, prehistoric, even. But he's a gentleman! He listened to you talk and he cooks you good food and he didn't want you to sleep in a freezing cold bedroom. That is more than I can say for any guy that any of the rest of us has ever dated. You need to go downstairs tomorrow and tell that man to take you on a real date once all this is over."

"Wow, Barb, all this homework must be getting to your head."

"Not really. I'm borrowing some of your ideas for the Romeo and Juliet paper, by the way, they're really good." Harper groaned, shuffling down the hall with her flowers clasped tightly in her hand.

Tags: @im-procrastinating-again