#former fiction librarian | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celestiamour · 5 months ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ when i'm alone ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @lokotrona11 ˚₊ ⊹

ft. peter pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ peter meets a bookworm who makes life in london a bit more bearable┊1.3k words (prt two coming soon)

setting: england after the golden age contains: exposition, first meetings, strangers to friends, minor blood & injury & mentions of fights

➤ author's note: the very first narnia request i received!! there will be a part two that’s further into their relationship and includes more of the request, so please look forward to that (it will be better than this one, trust me, i just thought this meeting would be cute)!

to say adjusting to life back in england was difficult would be an understatement. although it was nice to see his mother again and the familiar landscape of where he grew up, it doesn’t change the fact that it was a complete accident as a result of them exploring during a hunt and going back towards the wardrobe’s tunnel in nostalgic curiosity. all of the siblings would be lying if they said that home had the same magic spark that narnia did with the gray skies and the nauseous smell of pollution, but at least they had the wonders of modern technology here like lightbulbs rather than wax candles. it was even a shock for them to remember that they are no longer the only humans in the world, that animals didn’t talk anymore, and that mythical creatures like centaurs and griffins were only real in fiction. however, the most difficult change for peter by far was the fact that he was no longer the king of a fantastical land, instead he was now some nineteen-year-old boy who wasn’t taken seriously and was often told to go off and do literally anything else that isn’t meddling in adult affairs. it’s common knowledge that he was always very mature for his age since he’s constantly looking out for the younger ones, but it was such a drastic change for him to already be acting like he was in charge of everyone after just a few weeks in the countryside and even wondered what the eccentric professor must have taught him for him to come back acting all high and mighty.

he’s tried so hard to go back to being a normal boy, yet he struggles to hide the regality in the way he acts and the air of superiority he holds. the other former royals are used to his behavior even before being crowned, but soon he found himself isolated from others his age no matter how close they were previously and getting into physical fights with anyone crosses him. he was no longer used to holding his head low when disrespected and now that he’s had a taste for being held in high esteem, he would no longer tolerate it and was now known as a troublesome person whom most people steered clear of.

although his family was concerned for him, peter didn’t seem to have cared less about how quickly his reputation plummeted and he spent his days as a loner. he often found himself exploring the city’s largest library instead of playing sports or getting a job since no one wanted to hire a rebel, reading through overly complicated books about portals and other dimensions. he knew that science wouldn’t be able to explain the phenomenon that he experienced since it was magic, but studying up on the subject made him feel a little bit better that there were other people around the world exploring the subject.

the entire section dedicated to this field of knowledge was in a far corner quite a ways from the entrance, a dusty little space a tad bit darker than everywhere else, and never had a soul near it which made it the perfect place for him to brood and be alone for the most part. the only other person he saw there occasionally was you, someone he only saw through passing within school hallways and heard about receiving academic prizes all the time. while classes were out, he fully believed you had already read all the books in the building. you were there from the moment the sign was flipped to “open” until the moment the librarian told you it was closing time, never thoughtlessly roaming around since you always walked with purpose knowing exactly what you were looking for, and often seen carrying books that towered over your head threatening to tilt over.

despite seeing you every single day, he never really had the chance to talk to you. you seemed so… untouchable… like you didn’t have the time or place to spare for people who weren’t in your schedule. he wonders if he used to appear like that to others back in narnia when he was rarely approached by anyone who wasn’t one of his siblings, but at least he had the excuse of being a high monarch— what was yours? it was the first time he found himself curious and thinking about something else that wasn’t his former life.

turns out, peter’s chance came to him when he least expected it and when he was in his most vulnerable state: freshly bruised and cut up after a fight with a gang of middle schoolers over stepped-on toes. he’s landed himself in this situation countless of times yet still never learns his lesson to leave it alone before it escalates. fortunately, he got to witness the satisfying conclusion of the leader getting dragged away by his mother, but he was really the one with the egg on his face when he barely managed to get in a single punch while he ended up with a busted lip. to say he was pissed off was an understatement, but frankly, emotions that weren’t anger or longing didn’t come to him much anymore. he didn’t want to get a scolding from his family about he should have been more careful again so he wandered back into the library to take care of himself in his usual corner, unwittingly catching your eye on his way and leading you to him.

neither of you said anything when you walked up to him with a first-aid kit in hand as you used your eyes to ask for permission to patch him up and he simply nodded to grant it, the silence being more tense than awkward. you wrapped bandages around his aching knuckles, applied ointment to his wounds, and uttered nothing but a “hold still” when he hissed in response to the sharp pain of hydrogen peroxide on his lip. he didn’t even feel your skin against his, just feather-light touches that tickled him slightly as he intently looked at you while you were focused. he’s never seen you up close before so he took the opportunity to study your features, slowly realizing that he developed a crush on you at some point and immediately straightening his posture to act like he wasn’t staring when you glanced back at him.

“you’re… the guy who’s always reading about different dimensions, right? your name is... peter?”

“yeah… that’s me.” he's surprised that you knew anything about him at all, much less his name and the books he was reading. considering that you were always in your own little world, it meant that you paid more attention to your surroundings than he originally thought.

“have you visited any other realms lately?” your tone was serious, but the absurdity of the question made it sound like a joke.

“you wouldn’t believe me, it sounds ridiculous.”

“really? i’ve heard all kinds of tales, i doubt it would be even close to the worst one.” you weren’t sure why you were the first to start the conversation when you never cared for your peers or what they had to say before.

“well… it all started when we left for the countryside and my youngest sister wanted to play hide and seek…” he wasn’t sure why he was telling you about the wardrobe and narnia when he refused to open up about it to anyone other than his siblings, but it felt right to do it. at best, you’ll believe him and he’ll have someone to talk to. at worst, a cute girl will think that he’s crazy.

neither of you were quite sure about the reasons behind this conversion, but perhaps there didn’t need to be one as long as it felt like the right thing to do.

request [ I didn't find your requests so I'm writing to you here 😅 I wanted to ask Peter falling in love with a bookworm (they only see each other in the library in the last hallway and she's shy and all that) (in the second movie) in London, as if she were the one capable of removing his anger for a while and Peter felt calm with that little girl. (If you write smut with +18 at the end or just fluffy, whatever you choose) ]

#📜. her works #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia x reader #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #narnia #narnia fanfiction #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #narnia x reader

214 notes · View notes

soundspeachytome · 1 year ago

Text

our future lives - shohei ohtani soft au

trope: childhood best friends to strangers

word count: 5.9k words

author notes: (this will be a bit long so if you want to jump straight to the fic, go right ahead!)

I wrote this in retrospect to the days i spent with my high school newspaper publication team. Recently, an old friend and org mate from the school newspaper (who i have not spoken to in years) followed me on instagram and it took me down memory lane.

This was a time when a boy who (coincidentally enough, also played for a sports team) used to read drafts of my silly stories and poems of fictional heartbreak and would compliment my writing all the time. He was my best friend until he wasn’t.

This was when everything was awkward, confusing and unsettling; when I didn’t believe love could blossom beyond friendship. And when it was already right in front of me, I chose to run away.

With Shohei Ohtani as my current muse, I write this to close the what ifs our high school memories have left us. And when love finally visits us once again, instead of running away, maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to look at it straight in the face and say, "welcome, I hope you enjoy your stay."

Songs i listened to while writing: (repeatedly, repulsively, and obsessively)

Right where you left me - taylor swift (evermore)

Shouldn’t be - luke chiang

You are in love - taylor swift (1989)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

==============================

I didn’t feel anything at first but when realization sank, I almost doubled over. A familiar feeling punctured somewhere on the middle of my chest, like a pounding, beating of a drum. While an economics faculty was waiting for me to check out her library card, she chatted animatedly with her colleague and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. When the words “homecoming”, and “shohei ohtani” were mentioned in one sentence, I almost dropped the books on the professor’s feet.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation… Did you say Shohei Ohtani is coming back…?” I croaked.

“Yes! It’s on the news everywhere. He’s attending his former school’s foundation anniversary as a baseball alum.” She hushed excitedly. She almost looked like she was blushing.

“Professor, didn’t you graduate from Rosewood High School, too?”

She and her friend looked at me expectantly, like I’m some sort of Bingo announcer about to shout their magic winning number. I nodded slowly, a small smile formed my lips.

“Wow! You and Shohei Ohtani were schoolmates, then! Were you in the same year?”

“Has he always been so tall?”

“Did he have any girlfriends back then?”

The pair of them launched their questions like an automatic rifle, I swung albeit defensively, and yet I couldn’t duck myself for cover in time.

I shrugged and quietly said, “I didn’t really know him that much, he was always just playing baseball, I guess.”

Before they could respond, I pushed my thick-rimmed glasses back to the bridge of my nose and went back to my Excel spreadsheets. They said their thank yous and skipped their way out of the library.

Finally, quiet again.

Like every typical librarian, one glare from me could snap chatty visitors’ mouths at an instant. I reveled in the silence of my humble workplace, with shelves taller than any average person, filled with books old and new. I could spend hours in the silence, tapping on my computer archives, or shelving books from the returned pile. This is the job of my dreams. Customary, routine, familiar, comfort zone.

I realized that I have been tapping the letter Y key from the keyboard, lost in thought. I couldn’t believe the words I heard earlier could ever be strung in one sentence, not even in my wildest dreams. I tapped my legs restlessly. It couldn’t be true, could it?

How many popular Shohei Ohtanis could make girls this flustered?

There’s a one-hundred one percent chance that the result is, well, one.

To preserve my peace of mind, I decided to google him, and when the results showed the rumor to be true, I almost spiraled in my seat.

Did you know Shohei Ohtani in high school? The words from the two professors rang in my head.

I knew damn well who Shohei Ohtani is.

Shohei and I have been friends since the day we learned how to talk. We lived on the same block, sat together in class, shared snacks during recess, we’d bicker loudly and fight like the worst of all enemies. According to our mothers, when he pulled my hair after I had claimed his Spiderman lego toy, I screamed so loud it could be heard two houses down the block. He felt so guilty about it and rushed to peck me on the cheeks so I’d stop bawling. Not sure how accurate our mothers’ anecdotes are, if they had been exaggerated or not, but they said, after that fight, little Shohei had treated the little me sweeter after that.

On good days, we played swings in the playground. We walked home together and would visit each other’s houses to play board games and Bomberman until it was no longer comfortable to stay in each other’s bedrooms without getting weird ideas.

Upon reaching puberty, I had grown in breast size, started getting my periods and hormonal mood swings while Shohei had grown a foot taller and his shoulders stretched widely. He lost his baby fat and developed muscle definition after playing sports. It was a time in our lives when it was officially awkward to hold hands while crossing the street, or for him to playfully grab me by the neck. If we did, we would get notes from the schoolmaster for indecency.

It wasn’t only the skinship that changed. Shohei grew to be more popular with the girls when he performed well in high school baseball. He was tall, fit, respectful and most importantly, he had a kind smile that would make your heart do a tap dance. And so my heart wore dancing shoes everyday.

While Shohei was busy playing his ball games, I joined the school paper as a news writer. The club meetings took up most of my afternoons then when i used to spend it by waiting for Shohei. By the time he finished practice, I would still be in the school library, either my face buried in a stack of books, or fingers furiously tapping an article on my laptop.

“You can go first. I don’t think I can go home yet, not unless this article writes itself.” I said one afternoon, not looking up. I was preparing an article for the school sports festival, where Shohei was the third-year representative and captain. I heard him walk up to me and braced myself. Tap tap tap.

He set his gym bag and batting equipment on the table and sat on the chair beside me.

“I’ll wait.” He said calmly. He crossed his arms over the table and closed his eyes, as if to sleep. He sat there in silence, baking in the sounds of my keyboard smashing my unnerving thoughts and emotions.

Suffice to say, I didn’t get anything done after that. The smell of soap and cologne crept up to my nose and his broad shoulders lightly touched mine. Him sitting so innocently with his head on the table was enough of a distraction. It also didn’t help that on my periphery, I knew that he was facing my direction. In the next three minutes or so, I allowed myself to stare at his face: bags under his eyes were slowly showing, his well-defined nose, his mouth slightly agape, with evidence of picking and biting the lower lip skin.

When he startled awake, I scrambled to close the laptop monitor so loudly I thought I had cracked the screen. Embarrassed and face probably beet red, I stood up to leave. He carried all of my bags that day. When I offered to carry his gym bag, he refused.

In the last few weeks of that semester, I had become interim editor-in-chief. Shohei’s games had ended and our deadline for the year-end publication drew nearer. That meant I had made the library my second home like a bridge troll, only allowing brief, important conversations. My entire table was covered with mock newspaper clippings, sample layouts, glue, stacks and stacks of drafts that went through multiple, desperate, bloody revisions. This and the rest of my academic subjects I balanced gingerly on a thin line. Shohei would continue to visit and wait by the other corner of the library, pretending to read mystery thriller books he picked from the shelves. Most of the time, he slept. I never saw him study, even in the library. He didn’t need to as he aces all his subjects while hitting home runs on the field. I always suspected that he astral projects in his sleep and studies inside the realm of dreams. That’s probably why no matter how much he slept, he was still constantly tired.

In other words, Shohei always seemed like he never had to try. He was good at everything. And I always had to work hard just to be able to stand on the same playing field as he is, at least once or twice.

One particular day, when afternoon classes were canceled to give way to the club meetings, I was in my usual spot in the library with Zumi, our layout artist and a third-year from class B. We were finalizing the layout design before submitting it to the publishing house. Shohei was in baseball practice and had been MIA from the library all week.

A group of girls suddenly filled the library.

“He’s not here!” I heard one of them say. They noticed Zumi and I chatting quietly in the corner.

“Hey, you’re Y/N right?” A girl with jet black hair siad. Her skin was white as porcelain. She had retainers on, the ones that looked unfairly pretty on lucky pretty girls.

I nodded.

“Are you Ohtani’s girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?” I blurted out, eyes almost popping out of my eye sockets.

She chuckled. “Right? I couldn’t believe it myself too. I know Ohtani only sees you as his best friend.”

I couldn’t respond right away. It was true but why did it sting so much?

“But they’re always together, I saw her give him a lunchbox during breaks.” A petite girl with a wolf haircut emerged from the sides. She had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

The rest of the group murmured in unison.

“Our mothers are close friends, so it was natural for us to grow up being friends, too.” I said irritably. Not only was this irrelevant but it was so annoying that a bunch of girls would question her decade-long friendship.

“I don’t have to spell out the dynamics of our friendship to you.”

“If that bothers you so much, why don’t you personally tell Ohtani’s mother to stop asking me to bring his lunch boxes for him.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. I was afraid that it would escalate into a screaming match or a brawl that could result in us being kicked out–or worse, banned–from the library. The herd of girls glared at me and I glared right back.

“Um, a-as you can see, he is not here.” Zumi breaks the silence, clearly intimidated but she soldiers on. “And you’re disrupting our meeting.”

The first girl gives me a pointed look and spins on her heel and the rest follows.

Zumi sighed in relief. “Oh my god, Y/N, I thought I would experience my first visit to the schoolmaster’s office before graduation.” She rubbed her sweaty palms together.

I stifled a giggle, anger fading. Zumi’s gentle personality softened me right away. I couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Don’t worry, Zumi, we don’t start fights but we sure as hell can end them.”

Shohei and I met less and less after that. I had purposely avoided him as much as I could because I still felt upset and he didn’t even have a vague idea about other girls spreading rumors about us. Another reason was I didn’t want to be referred to as “Shohei’s female best friend” anymore. His growing popularity in school made me only slink back down to the pits of the social hierarchy.

I also wanted to take some time away and contemplate my feelings about our friendship. He’s only a friend I grew up with. We shared meals together and walked home together. He would hug me when I’m upset and I would console him when his anger skyrocketed. These are common best friend behaviors, right? So why else would it suddenly change? Why don’t we ever stay like this forever?

Weeks after my so-called Shohei blackout, I was left alone to clear the table I had claimed in the far corner of the library when Shohei popped in to visit.

The school year had finally come to a close, exams and ball games concluded, and the year-end paper was now distributed to everyone on campus: Shohei’s team pictured on the front page headline, declared as the year’s champions in inter-high school level.

He had a copy of the newspaper in his hand, grinning.

“Nice article, Y/N.”

“Is it nice because it had your winning face covering the entire spread?”

“I mean, you finally got an article on the front page!” He was waving the paper to you, pointing at the byline, as if you’ve never seen the layout more than a hundred times already. “Written by– your name! How cool is that!”

“My name is in a tiny font under your 32 font-size on the headline. I promise you, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is for me, though. I read it word for word. I loved it. You’re so good at words, Y/N” his eyes crinkled at the sides and I waved him off, blushing.

“I’ve seen enough of this newspaper, I think I’m going to be nauseous.” you faked a retching sound.

“I’ve started seeing that damn thing in my dreams, Sho.” You grimaced. “Please hide that from me. Or I will rip it into shreds.”

Shohei giggled boisterously. You immediately swiped your hands over his mouth.

“Sshh! The librarian will hear you!” You looked around nervously, relaxing after realizing the librarian was nowhere in sight. “I don’t want to get kicked out on our last day of school.”

He held your arms away and uncovered his mouth from your hands. “Seriously, though, I’m proud of you. You worked so hard for this all semester.”

“Well, the subject was interesting to write about.”

“Is that right?” he smiled, mischief glinted in his eyes.

“”Rosewood’s revival after years of being dormant in high school baseball” was a pretty cool angle to write.” I said. And it truly was. The moment I saw the efforts and hardwork of Shohei and his inspiring leadership setting a momentum into the games, I knew right away that I had to call dibs on the story.

“Uh-huh.” He was just looking at me, hands still wrapped around my arms, locking me in place.

“It was a story worthy to tell and I just happened to tell the story. It all just–” I tried to mash my hands together, demonstrating the words synonymous to merging, fusing, blending.

He pulls me close and rests his hand at the back of my neck. I could feel the snug of his embrace melting me into a puddle. He hesitates but leans in. It was soft, abrupt and merely testing the waters. He pulled back slightly to look at my reaction. I didn’t know what I looked like, but what I did know at that moment, my heart bounced uncontrollably like a basketball. I swear I thought it would burst my chest open.

When I didn’t react or push him back, he leaned in for another try, this time, with more intent, meaning, and weight on my lips. When we parted, he looked away sheepishly that all I had to do in response to the kiss was to pull him in a tight hug. We stayed like that for a few more minutes because neither of us knew when to let go, or even wanted to. We just stood there relishing our newfound warmth while concealed in between the quiet and that precious corner space that held us. I don’t know how to define this feeling yet… but I could get used to this.

Nothing further ever happened after that sweet library moment because the next day, we received news that Shohei Ohtani was granted a full scholarship overseas. Thanks to his impressive performance during the last game. Ohtani joked that it was mainly because my frontpage piece was so well-written, it moved the university scouts’ ice-cold hearts to tears.

“You’d be an idiot not to go.” I was at the kitchen counter of our home, setting the newly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven to cool down. It was a Saturday morning and Shohei visited, like any other day.

“I’d be alone, though.” he was wistfully eyeing the cookies on the wire rack. “I’m scared I might fail and be a disappointment to my dad.”

His arm slowly reached for the cookies but I immediately swatted him away.

“It’s still hot, dumbass.” I gave him the bowl where the cookie dough was originally mixed. He dutifully scooped the remains and popped a finger in his mouth, he grinned, satisfied.

“You won’t be alone because everybody likes you. And you won’t be a disappointment because you work twice as hard than everyone else. You’re Shohei Ohtani, for god’s sake.”

He doubted but I knew what he was thinking because I was trying not to think about it, too. If this was about the kiss, we can let it go. We can forget about it. It was just a kiss, this was our future and it shined brightly in front of him. It would make me a selfish person to try and block that from him.

“There won’t be a Y/N there, though.” he said, eyes trained to the cookie dough he held. “My best friend won’t be there.”

“I’ll be right here when you come back. Besides, we can always email each other, like we always did in computer class.”

I didn’t tell him this but it also broke my heart to say those words. I will definitely miss him, sure. He’s been a constant presence in my life that once he leaves, it would definitely leave a big hole in my life.

I wanted to tell him that whatever happened in the library that day will always be etched in my memory as long as I lived, that I wanted it as much as he did, and it hurt to say goodbye to a possibility, to something that had barely even started. If I had told him that, he would’ve turned down the offer right away.

So I didn’t, and so he left.

Ohtani and I would email constantly during our very first year in uni. He would send me pictures of the new places he visited, food he tasted, with little descriptions every now and then. You knew he was trying to include me in his new life as much as he could. In return, I showed him how I continued my simple, quiet life, how I met new friends at uni, how I ate at new hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the promise that we’d try them out when he returned back home.

Of course that didn’t last very long as life apparently came in between us. Long training hours for Shohei, and newer opportunities showed up in my doorstep as I got a partial scholarship and part-time job as a student assistant.

It went on like that for a very long time as we kept missing each other’s emails. I would already be asleep when he sends his messages and he’d be out in the field by the time I could reply. Sometimes I don’t receive anything at all at weeks’ a time.

One day, after two weeks of radio silence, I heard a girl in the washroom gush about Ohtani’s popularity overseas and how he has gotten a girlfriend. They were pretty serious, she would go on to say. She had long black hair with a pretty slender body, something like his type.

I stood there, hands dripping wet, listening to something I normally wouldn’t believe unless he confirmed it himself. The thing is, I haven’t heard from him in weeks, so I didn’t have a choice but to believe in the words from the grapevine.

I stopped waiting for his emails to come. If he sent me new ones, I didn’t check. I busied myself in the halls of the library studying, reading and writing, writing and writing my feelings away.

I wrote until my hands got tired, until I spilled everything I needed to forget into paper. Until I welcomed a new love into my life. He was also tall, kind, and cheerful. He respected my time and he loved going to new coffee shops with me. At that point, I was overfilled with joy and contentment that I barely thought about Shohei anymore. In the back of my mind, the chapter of Shohei Ohtani is now closed and my rosy high school life became a beloved, worn out book that I no longer revisited.

Later I learned in life that some things, despite making you undoubtedly happy, could still end horribly.

My relationships turned sour, some of my friendships fell out, but the worst part of it all was when my dad had a heart attack.

He died six months later.

It was pretty much autopilot after that. I could only ever handle so much, I don’t think I am as brave as Joan D’arc to handle ten, twenty more scars. Not when two of the best people I loved have left my life. Not when the person I want to run the most to is… no longer there to meet me.

I was a student intern at the archives section when the post for head librarian was vacated. I’ve already applied to multiple companies in the private and public sectors and kept getting waitlisted but the university hired me on the spot. A week after graduation, I had started my full-time job at the library, and it felt like I was somehow glued back together.

XXX

The cans of beer clinked together as I swayed the black plastic on my way home from the convenience store. Nothing beats a cold can of beer after a full meal. Also because “Shohei Ohtani” is a name I never thought I’d hear again in this lifetime. So much so, that a homecoming sounded so ridiculous that if someone ever suggested that idea to me before today, I would have laughed at their faces. It was an appropriate time to wallow in my drunken thoughts.

Four years was a long time for anyone to change. It was long enough to switch jobs, get promoted, to save up money and travel, to save up money and get married and have kids, or none at all, to study for a new degree, to meet new people and develop romantic feelings for them, to lose such romantic feelings, to forgive and move on, to develop new habits, and it is also long enough for character development if you think your personality needed an overhaul. Four years was a long time apart, a long time to forget each other to even be considered taboo. And yet.

And yet.

XXX

My phone buzzed against my jeans pocket. It was a text from Zumi. She now works freelance and designs her own stationery and stickers sold at mega discount stores all over the country.

“You wouldn’t believe what I just heard.” Zumi texted. Even before she could conjure a follow-up text, I responded right away.

Y/N: “Someone’s coming back to town?...”

Zumi: “WUT.”

Zumi: “U KNEW? AND DIDN'T TELL ME #betrayal”

Y/N: “I heard about it a couple of days ago and blacked out after 3 cans of beer. Sorry, Joomi-chan.”

Y/N: “I didn’t drink only because of the news, though. I ate almost 2 KGs of wagyu, too. It was the perfect drink to end the day.”

Y/N: “I ate ice cream, too."

Y/N: “I’m rambling. I”ve been restless since I heard about it.”

Y/N: “I’ll be okay, though. I always have been.”

I was about to put my phone down after the text blasts I sent to assure her when text bubbles appeared. Typing. I waited.

Zumi: “It’s alright to admit you’re not okay about this, Y/N”

Zumi: “He was a big part of your life, who ghosted you, asshole move btw, and his head’s probably gotten too big for his own good. I wonder how he walks around with that swollen head without toppling over.

Zumi: “Also, I’m only saying all of this because my role as Y/N’s only best friend is currently being threatened. I forgive you though!”

I had to laugh. Zumi was always fond of Ohtani and I even back in high school. Whenever she had time, she would join us on our katsu curry runs and hated matcha, while Ohtani and I loved it. She always preferred strawberry. She was the perfect balance in our little trio. And now, she is my voice of reason.

I paused to reread the text. Am I really okay about this? It’s a fairly small town, the chances of running into him are slim, but never zero. And what if I do meet him by chance, what should I do?

Zumi: “Text me when you feel like drinking again. I’ll sneak out and join you in solidarity!”

Before I could send the cutest peach butt sticker to Zumi, a message from an unregistered number popped up on my notifications.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Shohei Ohtani. I got your number from your mom. I’m sorry for being abrupt like this but I just flew back from the States and will be spending a few days at home.

Do you want to meet up for some curry katsu for old time's sake?”

Holy hell, I stared at the messages in disbelief. Am I being punked right now? Where is the hidden camera? If the universe is listening right now, please, swallow me whole into the earth right now.

I clenched the phone hard, against my chest. You are better now. Don’t fumble.

Tap tap tap.

XXX

I don’t know what had gotten into my head that when I responded a few hours later, had agreed to meet up after work for curry and drinks. Future me would like to smack past me of five hours ago for making a decision like this.

But here I am now, just a few stores away from the curry place I had suggested for dinner.

Suddenly feeling conscious, I stopped by a convenience store that had a convex mirror on top of the corner shelves. I swiped lipstick on my lips and powdered my nose. I also bought mints just to play for time. I worked up the courage to text Zumi.

Y/N: So, please tell me I’m doing the wrong thing and I will turn back.

Zumi: What happened?

Y/N: After we texted earlier, Shohei texted me out of the blue and that he’s already in the town.

Zumi: He WHAT???

Zumi: Are you telling me he asked to meet up and you said yes?

Y/N: You should switch careers and be a fortune teller instead.

Zumi: You WHAT???

Y/N: Pls, pls, pls tell me I’m wrong for doing this.

She didn’t respond right away. Her text bubbles went up and down infrequently. I stood outside of the restaurant, in the cold of the night waiting for her response.

Zumi: How do YOU feel about it?

Zumi: If I were you, I, who have witnessed all the carnage all these years, I would do it. I know if you turn your back now, you’d spend another four, five years wondering what would’ve happened if you chose differently.

Zumi: Don’t try to rationalize it, Y/N. You’re panicking now. But I know in your heart, you want answers. You want this. So suck it up and be a big gworl!

She resonated exactly how I felt about this. So why was I hesitating?

I walked up to the restaurant and scanned the room. It was almost empty after dinner hours, except for a few white collar workers catching up on late night meals.

And then I saw him. He sat at the back of the room, his back facing the front of the shop. I could recognize those wide shoulders anywhere in a heartbeat. I made a beeline towards him.

He wore a blue polo buttoned up to his chest, creasing at the shoulders as he slouched forward. He looked absolutely different from the memory of the boy who used to carry my bags. His hair grew into thick waves and his cheeks and jawline was chiseled and defined to the bone, revealing more of his handsome face.

He stood up, smiling widely and threw his hands around me, a whiff of his sandalwood perfume and the feel of his hair pressed to my cheek brought everything back: spending lazy days in the library, the night strolls on the way home from school, sharing twin popsicle ice creams, the warmth of his hands intertwined with mine, that last first kiss. I pulled away and he gestured to me to sit down. As we both sat down, I thought, You are always finding ways to get my hopes up.

We stared at each as I settled down on my seat. For a few moments, I felt the room was charged with cold air. His eyes traced my face making me more and more self-conscious, I had to break the ice.

“The chicken curry katsu is good here, you know.” I said, as a waiter approached and served us water. “But if you prefer pork, it’s heaven too.”

I sipped the cold water nervously and fidgeted the hem of my plaid skirt.

“It’s been a while.” I started.

“I’ve been busy.” He started to explain. I hate how he thinks this was his decision, how he didn’t even consider the fact that I’ve been busy, too. “How about you? I’ve stopped hearing about you since…”

“Things happened.” I simplified, but really, I wanted to give him a rundown of how things have more or less worked out okay for me–how I am doing well at my job, taking my Masters, thinking about traveling to Southeast Asia with Zumi, spending time with family on weekends, trying to do pilates at least thrice a month, and catching up with some old friends whenever we got to clear our schedules. How I am, despite his absence, was not entirely miserable. But I don’t want him to think that I am just doing this to prove a point, so I coated a response with the standard, “But I’ve been fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Same old, I’m here for business and something else. I finally got the courage to tell you this now.” He said, finishing up the last of his meal and downing his glass of water before speaking again.

I honestly don’t want to know, I want to order another glass of beer and fall asleep drunk. I want to crawl into my bed and waddle in self-pity at how I’ve spiraled back to square one, of how after all these years, I am still hopelessly in love with this unattainable man, who thinks we are still each other’s best friends after years of no contact. Instead I responded cautiously, “What is it?”

He inched forward and leaned his face on his right hand. “There’s this girl.”

I held my breath and braced myself for impact.

“There’s this girl. We almost always never stood on the same foot. She hated sports and hated standing in the sun to see me play, but watched regardless because she had to write an article about it.

“When we finally started realizing we liked each other, I received my scholarship grant and moved overseas. If she got mad about me going MIA, I could've explained better to her that I had an accident during Spring training and was in a hospital bed for almost a month. Had she checked her emails, she would know. But she never replied. Ever.

“After a few months, I heard from our friends that she finally got a boyfriend and was in a happy, healthy relationship. I thought, ‘Oh. Good for her! I'm happy for her. Someone near to take care of her.’ but was I really, though? I got myself a girlfriend, too and forgot about this girl for a while.

“But I heard about her dad’s passing and I tried to reach her but I couldn’t. Her home phone number was disconnected, my mom said they moved out of the block and she still won’t respond to my emails.

“I couldn’t be there for her but I thought, “she'd be with her boyfriend. She’ll have someone to lean on. But then her friends said they had broken up long before the incident. She carried all those baggage all by herself? Who did she have to lean on? Was she eating okay? Was she sleeping well? Does she still smile when she watches puppies run around bumping into things?

“It seemed like the timing was never on our side. She was available when I wasn’t, I was free on the days that she was occupied.

“I’ve always wondered if the universe played some practical joke on the two of us. If somehow, they'd ever allow me the chance to meet her again. I’ve been waiting for her for a long time now.

“Y/N, do you think if I ask her now, she’d finally be as ready as I am to meet her?”

I exhaled and felt my heart pounding. There is the thrum in my chest that felt all too familiar. Have we been missing each other’s chances all this time? Have I been getting on and off the wrong platform, just as much as he did, because we didn’t know what we wanted when we were barely twenty?

“I think you should ask her before it’s too late.” I said, catching myself, still staying on that third person narration. I mulled over the times we constantly missed each other like he had pointed out. He had been there for me when I was searching for myself and what I wanted to do, and I had watched him from afar when he was trying to meet his dreams, to the point of pushing him far away.

“I’m asking you now. I was always late, wasn’t I?”

His brown eyes bored into mine, expectant, hopeful. “Yes. You were...but you’re here now..." I trailed off, thinking how much shock I was to hear Shohei's speech. I wondered if responding to my real feelings was the right thing to do. He had his accident, my dad's funeral, the miscommunication between us. The sudden falling out. I wondered, if after all this time, someone like me would still be worth restarting over with.

"...and I think, you’re just in time, Sho.”

He smiled widely, showing the crinkles on the sides of his eyes, he exhaled as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"Thank god. I was almost certain you'd say no and disappear on me again." he laughed.

Freckles that I've never seen before popped over his nose and cheeks. So much has changed in his appearance but it was the same smile of the boy I love since eighteen.

“I’m home,” he whispers.

“Welcome back,” I said, finally smiling at him, too.

Shohei stands up and offers his hand as we exit the restaurant; I take it and interlace our fingers. For the first time in a long time, the tap dancing of my calloused heart has returned ever so exhilarating, like a lost pulse bringing me back to life. We are catching up on lost time, and for whatever fragment of memory that may have escaped through the cracks, we’ll slowly string them together. It doesn’t matter how many possibilities we’ve missed in the last four years of being apart. The important thing is this possibility, the right here and right now.

#shohei ohtani #shohei ohtani au #shohei ohtani imagines #shohei ohtani pov #shohei ohtani soft hours #soft spot for #high school shohei #i'm not so confident about this one #but i hope everyone likes how it ended #thank you for reading! <3

153 notes · View notes

sjsmith56 · 9 months ago

Text

Short Fiction Masterlist - multi-part stories

A Better Man - 10 parts AU. Bucky Barnes, a general contractor who also provides services for criminals, falls in love with the single mother of a baby girl. The baby’s father is connected to one of his rivals. Can he be the better man for her?

Away Mission - 4 part story. Bucky cuts all ties with the Avengers and his OFC girlfriend, deliberately keeping them in the dark when he is asked by Nick Fury to undertake a dangerous undercover mission. Each part has alternate POV between gf and Bucky.

Chance Encounter - 4 part story (plus a small Drabble) of an act of courtesy leading to a major revelation for Bucky that will change his life.

Complicated - Three part story of Bucky giving a ride to a runaway bride that becomes complicated by who she was supposed to marry.

Customer Service - 2 part story. Bucky shows up at the store where his ex-girlfriend works to return something. When Sam asks for help in buying Bucky a suit she helps him out. Angst and fluff.

Dates - Three part story - A visit to his old apartment brings Bucky in contact with the new tenant. With Sam’s help, he asks her out for a first date, a double date with Steve, then ghosts her for the third date until Sam intervenes.

The Fae Elements - Six Seven part story. Bucky Barnes as a fae king in the modern world courting an environmental lawyer. The dark fae want her as well. Teaser link.

The Flame Burns From Within - Six part story set in medieval times. Lord Barnes comes to claim the hand of the woman he has been betrothed to since her birth 21 years before. Others object to his claim.

The Gilded Age - Seven part Avengers / Bucky Barnes AU set in 1899. Slightly steampunk story of Bucky falling for the new librarian at the Society of Heroic Individuals and Estimable Lofty Deeds (SHIELD).

Two Steps to the Left - This is an AU four part "what if Bucky didn’t fall from the train story” with a final touch of the cap to a Disney + Marvel series.

We Danced - Three part story of Bucky meeting a lawyer in Washington, then reconnecting with her in Paris and then New York, where they both realize they have something very special.

You Get What You Need - Two part story in Avengers AU where Bucky learns his former girlfriend had his baby, and is now dying of cancer. Her only hope is a medical treatment developed by Bruce Banner using Steve Rogers’ blood.

Tumblr Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #Bucky Barnes short fiction #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes au #bucky barnes au

53 notes · View notes

shewolfofvilnius · 2 months ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Gale

Gale x Lia - short little ficlet set approx. six months after my fic Wild Magic.

PG rated. Just fluff for days. Warning: This fic spoils several plot points of Act 3 of the Fic (their relationship status, a sub-plot involving the orphans Halsin didn't/couldn't take, and the fate of Sorcerous Sundries, Ramazith's Tower, and fate of Lia's magic, which hasn't actually been published yet. But I had this story in my head and I wanted it told.

The mid-afternoon early summer light poured in through the large stained-glass window of Sorcerous Sundries. The clangs and whirrs of several automatons echoed through the stone and brass atrium. Several illusions were stationed about the room, each based on the default form for shapeshifting that the store’s proprietor had learned.

In an office on the upper level overlooking the space, the human man at the desk, Gale Dekarios, had sat aside several books to clear space. As he pushed a few strands of hair - dark brown broken up by the occasional gray – away from his eyes, his attention refocused on the tiefling in front of him. The proprietor of Sorcerous Sundries, his protégé in the study of magic, and most importantly – his fiancée.

Lia wore a mischievous grin on her face as she clutched a small bag of holding tightly. “C’mon Gale, it’s an old family tradition of ours. You get your birthday presents once you guess what they are. Gods, Cal and I used to torture Rolan with this for hours.”

The slight glistening of her eyes at the mention of her brothers was an obvious ploy for pity upon her, and he was a willing patsy. It had been months since her elder brother Rolan had handed over the title of Archmage for Gale and Lia to share and gone to become Archmage and Senior Librarian in the rebuilt Reithwin; months since her twin brother Cal had gone to the Astral Plane with Lae’zel in order to help with the latter’s ‘New Paradigm’; if Cal could broker peace between Rolan and Lia, then helping bring peace between Githyanki, Githzerai, and istik like himself should be child’s play.

Gale knew that Lia missed them, and much as his love for the unfettered acquisition of knowledge caused him to have a distaste for guessing games, his love for Lia was far stronger and far more resolute. They were getting married, after all.

A smile crept across his face as Lia looked at him hopefully. “Is there a book?”

Lia’s eyes shot open with joy. He’d bought in. “Of course there’s a book, you dummy. I’m getting married to a wizard; I’ve lived with one since I was a kid, I know how this goes. WHAT book, Gale?”

He was incredulous, if playful. “What book? Lia there are thousands of titles in circulation. Fiction, nonfiction, research, adventure, comedy, romance.” Lia teased him with a smile. “Guess you’d better get to guessing, then.”

What book was Gale most excited for. The former archer turned sorceress was incredibly perceptive, this would be a book with significance and meaning. Perhaps something with a personal connection. She also had a distaste for nonfiction that had frustrated him to no end. “Wait…they’re putting out a sequel to…Lia do not tell me it’s Sanudrel and the Lapis Lazuli of Beyond.”

Lia screamed on the inside, though the shouting only manifested physically as a twitch of the eye. “You looked! Cheat!” Lia playfully and lightly hit Gale on the shoulder, causing the wizard to play act a grievous injury.

“Excuse you, I most certainly am not. However, I recalled having told you of the import that the first book had upon my desire to ensure you knew how I felt, and my dissatisfaction with the original ending. Both us and the book, to be clear. I’ve heard that the hero in this second edition gets a chance to revisit that inn. Hopefully our titular hero makes a better choice this time.”

“I just want to know what the ‘Lapis Lazuli of Beyond’ Lia noted with curiosity as she handed the book to Gale. The book was wrapped with a purple satin ribbon with gold trim that came to ends in a somewhat hastily tied bow. Gale noticed the slightly…irregular…bow almost immediately.

A sudden bashfulness crept across Lia’s face. “You try tying a bow with claws sometime, Gale.”

Gale looked at the bow with admiration, then pulled Lia’s right hand into his own. In a single gesture, Gale bent down and kissed her upon the hands. “I find your touch quite delightful I’ll have you recall. The book itself is exactly what I’d been hoping to read. The gift, the bow, and yourself are all lovely. Just to assuage my curiosity, are there other gifts as well?”

“Oh, most definitely.” For almost an hour, the two went back and forth as Gale managed to identify gifts. A new robe – perfectly tailored, thanks to measurements Lia had snuck. A set of cookware, as she knew it was his other passion and that he had found their existing implements – largely inherited after the death of Lorroakan – insufficient. A set of scented oils and soaps. A handwritten set of recipe cards that Lia had obtained from Bex; Gale had wanted to experiment more with baking. That left just three gifts, according to Lia, yet Gale struggled to see where any others might be stored.

“Alright, time for the grand prize. The last three presents go together.”

Gale tried to discern how three presents could ‘go together’. Three components to a spell or charm? A staff that needed to be assembled? Perhaps they were thematically united? Gale began nervously eyeing the clock, eyes darting back and forth with each pendulum swing. Mattis, Mirkon, and Silfy would arrive storming into the store in minutes.

“I see you there. Trying to beat the clock before the kids get back?”

Gale’s quiet laugh set Lia’s heart slightly aflutter. Their lives had been utterly reshaped, both during the Absolute Crisis and now a year removed from it. The two had had custody of the three orphaned refugee kids that Lia had once traveled from Elturel with for several months now. “Proudest thing I’ve ever been involved in, helping bring up those three kids with you. Gods know we could use the occasional bit of privacy, though.” Lia’s eyes opened with a confirmatory look. “Wait…privacy? Lia, what have you done?”

“Nothing dramatic, but I know that having the three of them around’s been a lot, even for me. Figured maybe you and me could use some alone time. Soooo….”

“Lia, what have you done?” Gale asked, the accusatory words giving way to the playful and flirtatious tone in which he said them.

“Oooh you ARE close. I got Alfira and Lakrissa to agree to watch them for a few days. Set up a little trip to Waterdeep, since we’re both attuned to the portals thanks to that mess with Shar. I knew you were missing home, and it’ll be good for me to get away a bit too. You can finally show me the ‘City of Splendours’ you keep talking about. Besides, you still have your tower there as far as I know, won’t even have to pay for lodging.”

“Lia, that’s incredible. My, there’s a small breakfast place near Blackstaff Academy we absolutely must try. Nevermind the sunset from my balcony.

But wait…you said three presents. Childcare is one, sharing my longtime home city is the second, but what’s the third?”

Lia gave him a supremely flirtatious look, enough to make Gale’s heart beat like a thunderwave. Enough to make the trousers underneath his tunic suddenly uncomfortable. Lia noticed the slight shift in Gale’s posture and material of his outfit. “Correct again, Gale. Looks like you just figured out what the last present will be.”

As the sound of three young voices suddenly began to fill the air from the shop’s atrium, Lia pulled in Gale for a kiss. The young voices grew closer as the lovers held the kiss. Finally, they pulled apart. “Just a little preview of your other present. Happy birthday."

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x lia #bg3 lia #lia bg3 #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #sorcerous sundries #sorceress lia #wild magic fic #lia #gale

12 notes · View notes

transingthoseformers · 6 months ago

Note

I had some cast ideas for my other fan continuity idea, Transformers: Resistance, which is about Elita leading the last Autobots on Cybertron against Shockwave while Optimus and Megatron are missing.

(This is just a concept)

Autobots

Aerial/Elita One — Former general, jet alt

Chromia — Ex-Wrecker(?), van alt

Greenlight — Scientist, Lancer's conjunx, ? alt

Lancer — Scientist, Greenlight's conjunx, ? alt

Firestormer — Former civil defense, firetruck alt (Firestar; I changed her name because there's seversl other fictional characters, including a Marvel one, named Firestar).

Moonracer — Kid sniper, car alt

Alpha Trion — Old librarian, ? alt

Scrounge — Some guy they found, monowheel alt

Steelwall — An ex-Decepticon, he defected to the Autobots when the war was still an actual war. T-rex alt (RID15 Grimlock; the guy's actual name was canonically Steelwall)

Decepticons

Shockwave — Scientist and everybody's boss in Megatrln's absence who's in denial about Megatron's "death", siege howitzer alt

Acid Storm — Jet alt

Ion Storm — Jet alt

Nova Storm — Jet alt

Drift — Car alt

Flamewar — Baby-faced fanatic soldier who could be an actual child, motorcycle alt

Tarn — Political commissar, tank alt

Predaking — Shockwave's abnormally created technically-son, dragon alt

Airachnid — Former poacher and a serial killer, spider alt

I had some other possible Decepticon ideas; Bitstream? Hotlink? Nacelle? Sunstorm? Dreadwing? Skyquake? Howlback? Glit?

There should propably be more Decepticons than Autobots, even if they also have drones or something. And they do need at least one doctor. I'm really unsure about the amount of Decepticon jets and beastformers, because if those are all Decepticons it could make the Autobots seem racist or something. Steelwall is also an ex-Decepticon after all...

Also all or most of the jet alts are all different from each other.

I'm trying to have all kinds of people on the Decepticon side, not just all evil.

So far it makes sense considering who we know was on Cybertron plus additions

I don't have many ideas other than it might be a good idea to pick at the maximals for characters, mayyybe? Especially considering how rid15 totally modeled some of the decepticons off of previous beast wars iterations

#iicr glit is a medic and generally a good person #so #Glit's a definite option #though I'm sure there's other medics somewhere #woukd scalpel be with megatron or somewhere else?#there's a decepticon medic named Riggorus #medicroids are also apparently a thing #maccadam #transformers #original continuity #lots of characters #transformers: resistance #riggorus has tge same altmode as Trailbreaker #okay apparently the toy was released on the 30th of march_ 2024_ which was not too long ago

9 notes · View notes

marzbix-crystal · 1 year ago

Text

[Image ID: A page of Land of the Lustrous themed drawings, in the top left is a doodle of my OC Labradorite with their hair down and a tired expression on her face with a label that reads "woke up too early" and a squiggly ball above it, below that are two full colour drawings of the characters Lapis Lazuli and Euclase in their alternate universe designs, in the top centre is a stylized doodle of my OC Onyx flying through the air with wind and leaves following behind him, below that are head doodles of my OCs Scorodite and Rhodochrosite with the former kissing the latter on the forehead with a little heart above them both, on the left is a sketch of my OC Dioptase stretching upwards with a label that reads "spent 12 hours writing", and finally in the bottom corner is a stylized doodle of my OCs Blue Diamond and Citrine- Blue is drawn far away with a wide grin while holding Citrine up to the viewer with one hand while Citrine has an uncomfortable, cat-like expression on his face. /End ID] Apologies for repetition within the description!

YEAH YEAH YEAH This is pretty much me drawing Blue Diamond and Citrine first (reference) then filling the page around them :]

Wanted to draw more Dioptase bc I love them, they're so silly Also had the urge to design Lapis and Euc, Head Librarian and Head Administrator, guess who wanted who's job (I like making fictional drama between characters <3) Now that I've drawn Lab with her hair down I need to draw the other updo-havers with their hair down- I've doodled Citrine without his headband but I'm not sure that counts, and the drawing of Black Opal was a different design thing- anywho,

I started redoing ALL my OCs' Toyhouse profiles, so that's fun, theyve got playlists and relationship tabs and everything (or they will have when im done ^^;;) ENOUGH CHATTER i hope you like this week's doodles :]

#marzbixcrystalau #marzbixocs #hnk fan ocs #hnk ocs #hnk fanart #land of the lustrous #doodle #sketches #sketch #my art #my ocs #my oc art #hnk lapis lazuli #hnk lapis #hnk euclase #hnk spoilers

31 notes · View notes

no-where-new-hero · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome to my blog!

Since I recently passed a follower milestone, I figured it was time to give this unwieldy space a table of contents.

My name is Blake, 20s, librarian in training, fiction writer, and hopeful novelist. This is a side blog (because I was a bad planner a year and a half ago), so I’ll follow back from @ichariancarrion.

My major author fandoms here are LM Montgomery and Diana Wynne Jones. For the former, I use the tag #lmm lockdown, though also post frequently with #emily of new moon and #blue castle book club. For the latter, my posts will be under #diana wynne jones or #fire and hemlock. I also recently hosted a Fire and Hemlock readalong during spooky season, and you can catch up on that at #fh readalong.

I post fanfictions on Ao3 under the name ASellerofDreams—I started there due to the Blue Castle Fanworks Challenge, which inspired a Barney Snaith POV fic, but I’ve since branched off to another fandom that gave me brainworms. Stuff related to my fics can be found under #writing life or my general diary tag, #blake’s last braincell.

Other content you’ll find on here:

#immortal poets society has hot takes, analysis and reviews, mostly of literature or stories writ large.

#kinema holds gifs and reviews of movies and shows. Lately I’ve been on a k-drama bender, so a lot of stuff will be about that!

#some are born to endless night features quotes.

Check out #sing a song of sixpence for music recommendations.

For some academia commentary, medieval jokes, and vintage aesthetics, try #the abbess will speak to you now, #the archivist will speak to you now, and #big brain moment.

A mostly defunct tag for moodboards and dark academia visuals and vibes is #I dream for a life in sepia.

Finally, visit #the ganymede club and #illuminates the room like the edge shine of a knife for a look into my mental centerfolds.

Enjoy your time here! My ask box is always open :)

#blake's last braincell

22 notes · View notes

thegreatestjournalistofalltime · 6 months ago

Text

Trust & Conflict (closed to @corxner )

(please note that the victims' names in this post—or future posts in this thread—were all totally made up and used to add some depth to the story. any similarities to a person, or the name of a person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. this applies to any further names made up for the fictional victims in this story. also, please be aware that this thread contains dark themes, which will be tagged for anyone who may need it.)

A librarian by the name of Janice Berr had been brutally murdered going home from work one night. Someone had punctured a hole in her fuel tank, it seemed, and followed her. She was found in the woods, near where her car was left with the front, driver's side door and trunk wide open. Judging by how many times she had been stabbed, and the state the wounds left her in, it was determined to be a crime of passion.

Maybe a former lover? Maybe someone had an axe to grind? However, there were no leads. Everyone seemed to like her, and any potential suspects had airtight alibies.

Freddie had heard about the case, of course, but these sorts of things happen all the time, unfortunately. It didn't quite fall into her purview.

When Faye Riche, a counselor, turned up in much the same way (except in her own home), that was when Freddie looked into it a little deeper. There were similar markings left by the murder weapon in each case. Both victims were women. Both murdered at night, seemingly in a rage. It had seemed a pattern was emerging.

That was until a new body was discovered in an abandoned parking lot. All Freddie knows is the address, where she is driving to now, and that the victim is a man with the same markings left by what seems to be the same knife. She has the heat on. The night is cold and her drive is a silent one.

When she arrives, she can see that the usual lot are there already. Jack Crawford stands a short distance away from the body, speaking to a local detective. Will Graham stands, seemingly in a trance, putting himself in the shoes of the killer. On the ground, she can barely see the body with the CSI team blocking her view as they carry out their work. She recognizes almost all of them—Beverly Katz, Jimmy Price, and, of course, Brian Zeller—but the fourth… She's never seen him before. He seems younger than the others, and she takes note that Will walks directly over to him after speaking with Crawford about whatever he just imagined.

Meanwhile, over at the crime scene…

Crawford walks over to his team at the body. "What do we know?" he asks.

Price is the only one of the four standing. He holds the victim's wallet in his hands, looking through its contents.

"Carl Getty," he answers, looking at the man's driver's license, "forty years old, and judging by the ID card I found, he works at one of the local high schools in the area."

"He's got some scraping on his hands, and there are little pieces of gravel in the cuts," Zeller says, holding Getty's palms up for Crawford to see.

"The gravel seems consistent with the paving in this lot," Katz adds, "and he has a laceration on the back of his head. He was struck from behind."

Will had been taking it all in, but when they finish, it's he that turns to the only one that hasn't spoken yet.

"What did you find, Faust?" he asks softly, encouragingly.

However, before an answer could be given, Zeller interrupts, saying, "Shit… Freddie Lounds is here. How did she find out so fast?"

Will looks up towards the direction of the barricades and sees her. He begins walking over to her and, sensing that there might be an issue, Beverly follows after him.

With someone looking after Will, Crawford turns his attention back to Faust.

"Yes, what did you find?"

#TattleCrime Directory #corxner: Faust Elias Maxwell #mentions of death #mentions of violence #mentions of blood #cw murder #tw murder #cw blood #cw death #cw violence #cw violent crime

7 notes · View notes

healerelowen · 10 months ago

Text

another one because one just wasn’t enough

Meet Blackberri! A former librarian from Snowdin who is now a full-time author! He mostly writes historical fiction novels and biographies. He is a more mouse-like creature. His ear got torn when he was in his teens by a freak accident. He has trouble hearing in that ear because of it. If you’re wondering why both characters so far have been injured in some way it’s the ‘I love giving my ocs trauma’ in a character development/lore building way. Really, really likes Sage. And Sage likes him back. The two spend a lot of time together! The only problem is that Snowdin is too cold for Sage, the Wild East is too hot for Blackberri. So the two try and meet up in more average places in terms of temperature like Waterfall. I’m very much leaning on making the two gay. And I may as well go for it.

#context for the orange teeth(veterinary science nerd alert)#Orange teeth in small rodents like mice and hamsters are perfectly normal and mean the animal’s teeth are healthy.#But if they were white that means something is wrong.#But anyway new character yippee #uty #undertale yellow #uty oc #my art #healer elowen

10 notes · View notes

ls-daydreams · 2 years ago

Text

~Writeblr Intro~

Photo © Cate Brodersen on Unsplash

Hello, everyone! I'm a tumblr ancient who's been lurking around writeblr for a while now, but never actually made an intro post or interacted with peeps within the community, so here I am!

☆ ABOUT ME ☆

name: Laura | birthday: 26.09.1997 | pronouns: she/her

languages: Romanian (native), English (fluent), Korean (conversational; been casually learning on and off for about 6 years), can somewhat understand Spanish and Italian

studies: BA in Scriptwriting, MA in Film Production Management

interests & hobbies: sudoku, crosswords, cooking & baking, tennis, collecting things, losing myself in canva edits & spotify playlists

what i’m doing now: working as a newbie librarian, trying to write my first novel, losing my mind over my characters

☆ ABOUT MY WRITING ☆

what i like: everything. i love me some nice variety in my genres, themes, and mediums. being absorbed into new worlds and learning from my peers is why i enjoy reading and why i’m a writer

what i write: in two words, murder gays. in more words, i usually write psychological thrillers intertwined with romance and mystery. after i’m done with my massive old-ass WIP (Metanoia, my beloved), i’ll dabble into taking the idiots-in-love into other genres (i already have some ideas for dark fantasy, sci fi & dystopian stories)

recurring things: characters who are demisexual/on the ace spectrum, deep connections between two people who can truly understand only each other, obsession, the concept of beauty in ugliness, death (as rebirth, as a companion to life, as a cause for grief), generational trauma, nature vs. nurture, loneliness vs. solitude

mediums: my current WIP is a novel, but i also write film and TV scripts and like to come up with transmedia experiences too - check out Forget-Me-Not for glimpses of those.

Below the cut are more details about some of my works~ I hope to make loads of friends, read all of your wonderful stories, and meet all of your OCs, so please interact with this post and I’ll check you out! I follow from my main, @sarcasticjuiceboxes ! Bless you for reading this~

METANOIA - novel & eventual TV series

themes - nature vs. nurture, familial relationships, the illusion of choice

summary: Set in the tiny fictional town of Plain River, the story follows 25-year-old Malachi Azevedo as he tries to regain his memories after an "accident" erases the first 18 years of his life. Stuck caring for his ever-ailing mother, plagued by intrusive thoughts of self-harm, and constantly feeling like an impostor living in the wrong skin, Malachi latches onto The Void - a familiar voice in his head - to cope. He’s convinced The Void was someone important to his former self and tries to find him despite everyone around him denying such a person ever existed. It's this desperate search, along with his fight for independence, which lead Mal down a rabbit hole of love, violence, and hidden truths and force him to finally reconcile with the person he used to be.

warnings - blood, gore, depression, amnesia, abuse, kidnapping, gaslighting, attempted suicide, murder, death

word count - x

status - currently writing

FORGET-ME-NOT - feature film

summary: Haunted by never-ending tragedies, reporter Seo Joon decides to end his life in an almost derelict bath house. It's there he runs into a pair of odd strangers who force him to pick a side when they get into a violent fight, Seo Joon accidentally ending up killing one to save the other. A connection immediately forms between Seo Joon and the rescued stranger, Yul, who convinces the former to put off his initial plans.

It's only the next morning that Seo Joon learns two things: Yul is a photographer working for the police, and the man they killed was completely certain Yul was a serial killer trying to claim him as the next victim.

themes - grief, peculiar love, beauty in ugliness

warnings - murder, suicide, death, blood, panic attacks

word count - ~26k words

status - complete

story & more details (character profiles, inspo, etc) here | mobile friendly here

FLAT 27 - short film

summary: Detached from society and impaired by his deteriorating mental state, writer Ryan latches onto one of the last things that can still keep him going - his novel. He fixates on trying to finally finish it, but the incessant noises in his head prevent him from concentrating as he hasn't slept for days on end.

His inspiration is finally awakened when he overhears a tormented cello playing from the neighbouring apartment. Ryan grows dependent on the music to write, believing his neighbour, Damien, is playing specifically for him, and they're bonded through their art despite never exchanging a single word. When Damien starts to show a disconnect by refusing to play as usual and inviting a third person into their "bubble", Ryan is tempted into a depraved act that finally brings him face to face with his delusions.

themes - obsession, solitute vs. loneliness, real vs. manufactured self

warnings - insomnia, stalking, unreality, death

word count - ~3k words

status - completed (script), in production (film)

story & more details (character profiles, inspo, etc) here | mobile friendly here

More works available to check out - web here | mobile here

Thanks so much for reading! Hit me up and let’s get a-friending ♥

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #putting myself out there is scary as hell but oh well #it's about time i do this #maybe this will stop me from talking to the void (heh) whenever i write #and actually share stuff

94 notes · View notes

lboogie1906 · 2 months ago

Text

Ta-Nehisi Paul Coates (September 30, 1975) is an author and journalist. He gained a wide readership during his time as a national correspondent at The Atlantic, where he wrote about cultural, social, and political issues, particularly regarding African Americans and white supremacy.

He has worked for The Village Voice, Washington City Paper, and Time. He has contributed to The New York Times Magazine, The Washington Post, The Washington Monthly, O, and other publications.

He has published three non-fiction books: The Beautiful Struggle, Between the World and Me, and We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy. Between the World and Me won the 2015 National Book Award for Nonfiction. He has written a Black Panther series and a Captain America series for Marvel Comics. His first novel, The Water Dancer, was published in 2019. He received a Genius Grant from the MacArthur Foundation.

He was born in Baltimore. His father, William Paul Coates was a Vietnam War veteran, former Black Panther, publisher, and librarian. His mother, Cheryl Lynn Coates was a teacher.

His interest in literature was instilled at an early age when his mother, in response to bad behavior, would require him to write essays. His father’s work with the Black Classic Press was a huge influence. He has said that he read many of the books his father published.

He attended Howard University, leaving after five years to start a career in journalism. He attended an intensive program in French at Middlebury College to prepare for a writing fellowship in Paris.

He lives with his wife, Kenyatta Matthews, and son. He is an atheist and a feminist. In 2016, he was made a member of Phi Beta Kappa at Oregon State University. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #phibetakappa

2 notes · View notes

the-monkey-ruler · 11 months ago

Text

The Librarians (2014) 图书馆员

Starring: Bob Newhart / Christian Kane / Jane Curtin / John King / John Larquette / Lindy Booth / Matt Frewer / Noah Wyle / Rebecca Romijn / Lesley-Ann Blade Genre: Drama / Comedy / Action / Fantasy / Adventure Country/Region of Production: United States Language: English Date: 2014-12-07 (USA) Number of seasons: 4 Number of episodes: 42 Single episode length: 42 minutes Also known as: Librarian IMDb: tt3663490 Type: Crossover

Summary:

The series follows four people newly recruited by The Library: Colonel Eve Baird (Rebecca Romijn), of the NATO Anti-Terrorist Unit, destined to be the new Guardian; Ezekiel Jones (John Harlan Kim), a consummate thief who can hack an NSA computer as easily as he can steal a Fabergé egg; Cassandra Cillian (Lindy Booth), a brilliant scientist and mathematician who possesses a trace of magic; and Jacob Stone (Christian Kane), polymath, linguist, expert in architecture, art, art history, archaeology and world cultures of the past and present, including Native American cultures, and other fields too numerous to mention, including bar fighting. The latter three received invitations from the Library at the same time as the current Librarian, Flynn Carsen (Noah Wyle), but for various reasons didn't show up for their interviews.

In a break with the concept established in the films that there can be only one Librarian at a time, the first episodes reveal that the state of the world is so dire that it needs a team of Librarians, with Baird serving as Guardian of all four. With the help of Jenkins/Galahad (John Larroquette), immortal manager of the Library’s Annex, they solve impossible mysteries, rewrite and fix key moments in history, recover powerful magical artifacts, fight against supernatural threats, and learn important things about themselves and each other. In the first season, they battle the forces of the Serpent Brotherhood, led by the mysterious immortal Dulaque (Matt Frewer). Carsen, who spends the first season searching for the main Library (removed from time and space at the beginning of the series) appears in some episodes.

The second season offers up a pair of new villains, both from fiction: Prospero (Richard Cox), from Shakespeare's The Tempest, and Moriarty (David S. Lee), Sherlock Holmes' chief nemesis. The former is positioned as the greater evil, attempting to use magic to destroy the world in order to remake it more to his liking. Moriarty is more of a gray villain—generally aligned with Prospero but willing to side with the Librarians when it suits his own interests.

The third season introduces a new adversary, Apep, the Egyptian God of Chaos. Defeated centuries before by the first Librarian, Judson (Bob Newhart), and his Guardian, Charlene (Jane Curtin), he is resurrected when his sarcophagus is opened and embarks on a mission to release pure evil into the world, possessing many different people along the way. While they are trying to stop Apep, the Librarians' actions are closely monitored by General Cynthia Rockwell (Vanessa Williams) from a new secret government agency, called DOSA (Department of Statistical Anomalies).

The fourth season does away with season-long story arcs in favor of stand-alone episodes, with three ongoing issues: Before the vernal equinox, Flynn and Eve must undertake a ceremony that will bind them to each other and to the Library, as Charlene and Judson did before them. They will become immortal and bind the Library to Earth, giving it a human connection and a human heart rather than the cold, implacable and dangerously self-centered attitude that would characterize it without that bond. (We learn in season three that the Library is a conscious entity.) The return of Nicole Noone, Flynn's first Guardian, believed dead and now immortal, raises many questions. And conflict arises between the Librarians over former Librarian Darrington Dare's assertion that there can only be one Librarian at a time, or the result will be disastrous. These three stories are not resolved until the last episode.

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Librarians_(2014_TV_series)

Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/video/detail/amzn1.dv.gti.68b0b42a-ee97-a6b1-d1f2-cfa3c2b2ef7a?autoplay=0&ref_=atv_cf_strg_wb

#The Librarians #图书馆员 #jttw media #jttw television #television #live action #crossover #sun wukong cameo #sun wukong #monkey king

10 notes · View notes

autisticsupervillain · 1 year ago

Text

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday: Movie Night!

A side version of FTF that's hosted and presented much like Death Battle, where two characters I like give an overview of the combatants and I provide you with a fully written fight scene.

This Week's Fighters...

The Distortion vs SCP-106

As Presented By:

Wiz and Boomstick!

Rules and Conditions:

No Restrictions

Introduction:

Boomstick: Michael Shelley, the archival assistant of The Magnus Archives who turned into the monsterous Avatar of the Spiral known as the Distortion.

Wiz: And Dr. Robert Scranton, the once brilliant scientist of the SCP Foundation who became one of the very same monsters he helped to contain, SCP-106.

Wiz: There are countless organizations in fiction dedicated to studying, containing, and archiving the supernatural. But in this profession, one must always be careful to not become the very thing you research.

Boomstick: Like these two former humans. Once dorky researchers who, after a quick trip to a hellish pocket reality, became some of the nastiest nightmares their institutes would have encounter.

Boomstick: He's Wiz and I'm Boomstick!

Wiz: And we'll be analyzing their weapons, powers, and skills to find out who would win... A Death Battle!

Analysis: "Michael"

Wiz: Fear. One of the main motivators of the human mind. It's the emotion that keeps us safe, contextualizes the dangerous world around us-

Boomstick: And, sometimes helps us to feed the Eldritch fear gods that govern our reality!

Wiz: Such is the case in the world of The Magnus Archives. In a world where all our fears literally come to life and the supernatural is provably real and dangerous, it would make sense for there to be an institute dedicated to cataloging and studying it. Such is the goal of the Magnus Institute, which Archives people's encounters with the supernatural in order to better understand the phenomenon. You go to the Institute, let the Head Archivist record your statement... and then that's it. You go home.

Boomstick: Boring. For one Head Archivist in particular, studying the supernatural and listening to people's problems all day wasn't enough. She had to make these bastards pay for every broken sob story that came to her. The myth, the legend, the Archivist, Gertrude Robinson.

Wiz: That might sound like the name of someone's eighty year old grandmother, but in the supernatural community, Gertrude Robinson was a bogeyman's nightmare. She's saved the world countless times, personally killed all manner of superhuman monsters, and has resisted the pull of several gods of fear trying to claim her soul.

Boomstick: She's like if John Wick and Doomguy fused into an angry librarian. The god of fire and pain killed her cat and she's never stopped making the supernatural community pay for it. This is the woman who, when confronted by a man made of candle wax, fire, and human misery that wanted to burn her alive, did something so indescribably awful to him that it terrified all of his cultist buddies. No wonder the entire supernatural community was terrified of her. No one who touches Mr. Whiskers shall live.

Wiz: And then there was her assistant, Michael Shelley. Joining up with the Magnus Institute to investigate the disappearance of his childhood friend Ryan, Michael was deliberately kept in the dark about the Institute's inner workings by both his fellow assistants and Gertrude herself. This resulted in a naive, timid assistant whom Gertrude could freely use as a disposable pawn.

Boomstick: Case in point, when Gertrude caught wind of yet another ritual to end the world, she took Michael with her to Sannikov Land for "protection". Sannikov Land, for reference, does not exist. They were there. They walked around on the island. But it doesn't exist. Don't.... don't question it. Things are gonna get real mindfucky real quick.

Wiz: At the place that doesn't exist, they found the ritual being conducted by The Distortion. An eldritch being as old as time itself that is both a massive pocket reality and the physical embodiment of delusion. The Throat of Delusion Incarnate, as its called, was attempting to summon its master, The Spiral, into reality, to conquer the world and condemn mankind to an eternity of madness. So, Gertrude interrupted the ritual... by tricking Michael into feeding himself to The Distortion.

Boomstick: That's cold, Wiz. Now with a bad case on indigestion, the ritual fell apart and the Distortion fell in on itself. Once Michael found the center of The Distortion, everything fell apart, and the thing that emerged from the remains wasn't like either of them. It wasn't Michael Shelley or The Distortion. Not really. It was just... Michael.

Wiz: Michael emerged as an Avatar of The Spiral. Let me explain. Avatars are physical beings, be they animal or human, who have been touched and permanently altered by one of the Fourteen Fears that rule over reality. Basically, there's Fourteen different Fear gods who each embodie a specific school of fear. These fears manifest in all sentient things, both humans and animals, and new Fears can manifest as more things become feared. The End is the Fear of Death, for example, and the Eye is the Fear of being watched.

Boomstick: Me personally, I've always leaned towards The Slaughter. It appreciates my directness with guns and explosives.

Wiz: The fear of war and random violence? Please. An intelligent man like myself much prefers the patronage of The Web. The fear of manipulation, loss of control, and centuries old plans. The ideal ally for any aspiring supervillain out for world domination.

Boomstick: Ugh. Spiders? Really? I would've at least assumed the Eye given your browser history.

Wiz: Hey, I'm a scientist, not a voyeur!

*The screen behind them crackles and Jocelyn appears on it.*

Jocelyn: Desolation all the way!

Boomstick: Ugh. Should've guessed she'd go for the arsonist edgelords....

Wiz: Anyways! The Spiral in particular is the Fear of madness, delusion, gaslighting, and paranoia. In order to survive, the thing now calling itself Michael had to spread and feed on this fear in its victims. This the curse of being an Avatar.

Boomstick: "Thing" is the right description for it. He's freakishly tall now at over six feet. All the bones in his body got relocated into his hands! And that laughter gives me a headache...

Wiz: Yeah, the Michael "body" isn't so much a physical thing as it is a.... concept. That's why it can reach right through a person's shoulder and pull out a worm an inch thick with surgical precision, without even breaking the skin. Michael doesn't even think of itself as a person, it's just a.... "hand" to something much, much bigger.

Boomstick: That "something bigger" would be its stomach, if you would. The pocket reality that used to be the Distortion's only body can be accessed with a door that Michael manifests. The door is the mouth and the corridors behind it are the stomach.

Wiz: And you're not getting out of there once you're in there. The corridors are a literally endless, illogical maze of twisting hallways and rooms. Corridors that spiral in on right turns forever and mirrors the break to reveal more hallways. It's a giant intestinal track that drives you further into madness the longer you're in it that the Distortion itself can reshape and manipulate freely. And if you're in there for too long.

Boomstick: Poof! All gone! Completely digested like you never even existed. The only way you're leaving alive is if Michael lets you out.

Wiz: And if you thought you were safe just by avoiding the door, think again.

Boomstick: Those freaky fingers of his can turn into razor sharp claws in an instant and Michael can fuck with your sense of reality. Causing hallucinations, inducing insomnia, and making you think that you don't even exist! If you don't go through the door yourself in all the chaos, Michael will drag you in kicking and screaming!

Wiz: Even with his penchant for gaslighting and manipulation, Michael is one of the most powerful Avatars out there. The Distortion is capable of easily killing Jonathan Sims even as late as Season 4, at which point he's capable of completely erasing people from existence.

Boomstick: Feats performed by Helen-Distortion and Michael-Distortion should carry over to each other. They have the exact same powers and... are, kinda, the same thing. But we'll get to that.

Wiz: The Distortion is capable of entraping, and likely digesting, Manuela Dominguez, a powerful Avatar of the Dark. Dark Avatars of a similar caliber, such as the Still and Lightless Beast and Maxwell Rayner, are shown to be capable of killing Avatars of the Hunt.

Boomstick: And those guys hunt their fellow Avatars for fun all the time. So killing one of them, nevermind ripping one apart like these guys can, is a big deal.

Wiz: We've got a bit of a scaling chain here, so buckle in. Avatars of the Hunt are described as being one of the few beings capable of threatening and killing an Avatar of the End. This would make them stronger than Avatars of the Desolation, who csn completely reduce human beings to nothing but charred skeletons.

Boomstick: That takes exactly 60,187 grams of TNT to do! That's why I carry exactly 60,187 grams of TNT on my person at all times. Just. In. Case.

Source:

Wiz: And The Distortion is several times more powerful than than that. Basically, Desolation Avatars can output that much energy, Hunt Avatars are stronger than them, Maxwell Rayner's group can rip them apart with ease, and The Distortion can digest them with ease. That's a hell of a scaling chain back him.

Boomstick: And that's with the superhuman speed Avatars already have. Like Oliver Banks, who can react to a satellite falling at 200 mph. That's 89.408 meters per second! And that's before Oliver was even a full Avatar yet. Imagine what the Distortion could do!

Wiz: Yet, for all the Distortion's incomprehensible power, it was still shackled to the identity of Michael, whose human emotions conflicted with his status as an eldritch horror.

Boomstick: Michael really wanted revenge on Gertrude for killing him, but she was a bit too... dead, for that. So he went after the current Head Archivist instead, Jonathan Sims.

Wiz: But, Michael also wanted Jon to know exactly why he was being killed, which conflicted with his new nature as a creature of madness and fear. So the Distortion rectified the contradiction by deleting Michael abd replacing him with one of its victims, Helen Richardson, as the human part of its personality. Making Michael completely disposable to both the people he's "worked" for.

Boomstick: And the worst part is that Michael didn't even have to in the first place. The Distortion's ritual wouldn't have worked even without feeding Michael to it, because the Fears are all interconnected to the point that they can't enter reality without bringing the rest with them. Making both of Michael's deaths utterly pointless.

Wiz: Poor disposable Michael. Both his lives and both his deaths were cruel jokes told by a god of fear, madness, and lies.

End clip:

youtube

Analysis: The Old Man

Wiz: Cryptids living among us. Ghosts and monsters haunting our dreams from just out of sight. Eldritch terrors that the wider world does not and should not know about. It's common in fiction for there to be a hidden world of magic and monsters coexisting with our own, just out of sight, and every story has its own explanation for why the general public is completely unaware.

Boomstick: That's where these guys come in. The SCP Foundation! Secure. Contain. Protect. Tasked with hiding the supernatural and preserving normality by containing the anomalous, this secret organization employees scientific geniuses from all over the world to protect humanity in secret.

Wiz: Such is the case with the one of the Foundation's brightest researchers, Dr. Robert Scranton. Robert made his name at the Foundation with a miraculous device that could nullify the powers of gods. The Scranton Reality Anchor allowed the Foundation to contain otherwise unstoppable reality warpers by forcibly maintaining, or "anchoring" baseline reality. It's honestly a fascinating piece of technology that I've been meaning to disect for awhile now. You see, it works by-

Boomstick: Magic generator thing stops reality warping from happening. Got it.

Wiz: Awww....

Boomstick: But building a machine that could contain Gods wasn't enough for this ambitious researcher. The Reality Anchor was really just a prototype for what Scranton really wanted to build. So, he and his wife, Anna Lang got to work building an even better contraption. The Lang-Scranton Stabilizer was intended to be a follow up piece that made his original design obsolete. Buuuuuuut, then an Earthquake happened while he was fiddling with it and Scranton was.... broken across time and space by his contraption.

Wiz: More accurately, the LSS malfunctioned and teleported both itself and Dr. Scranton into a completely different reality. This "Red Reality", better known as SCP-3001, was nothing but an endless void, with not a speck of stimuli to be found within it.

Boomstick: For those of you unfamiliar with mad science experiments, this is what we in the industry call a "bad result".

Wiz: "We in the industry"?

Boomstick: Hey, being a guinea pig counts!

Wiz: Anyways, the reason for this reality's bizarre and unusual properties is because it technically didn't.... exist. It had an incredibly weak Hume Field. Let me explain. Hume Theory dictates that a Hume is a unit of measurement that dictates the amount of reality in any given being or object. The more Humes you have, the more real you are, and the more Humes in your environment, the more that environment matches baseline reality.

Boomstick: But that pocket reality had basically no Humes at all. Meaning it and, by extension, he, didn't really exist at all. He couldn't age, couldn't die, couldn't even really move because there was just... nowhere to move to. It was an endless empty nightmare, until the nothingness just couldn't sustain itself anymore and collapsed on top of him, completely obliterating the man.

Wiz: What should've been the end of a slow, brutal, gruesome end for poor Dr. Scranton was instead the beginning of something much worse. 3001's collapse did not just kill him, it mutilated him. Mutilated his existence. And transformed him into something that could no longer be considered human. SCP-106 aka The Old Man.

Boomstick: Gone was the once kindhearted Doctor and loving husband that the Foundation had come to know. In his place was a sadistic melting corpse that just.... drips all over everything.... oh god that's disgusting.

Wiz: Disgusting and highly dangerous. That gross black mucus that 106 secretes is sticky and dangerously corrosive, quickly melting through steel doors and human flesh within seconds. Leaving his victims looking just a mutilated as he is.

Boomstick: Oh, god stop talking about it.

Wiz: SCP-106 uses this material to mutilate targeted areas of his victims in order to incapacitate them, so that he may drag them into his pocket dimension and torment them for weeks on end.

Boomstick: Oh, yeah, and once he has his sights on you, he's not letting you get away. He can stick to any flat surface he touches, to the point of even standing upside down on the ceiling, and he can walk right through any wall or door in his way.

Wiz: While thicker materials can slow down his ability to walk through walls, he will get through them eventually. He can even turn his corrosive substance into a portal directly to his pocket reality should he need to.

Boomstick: And once you're in there, you're not getting out. 106 has completely control over his little pocket reality. From its physical appearance to the laws of space and time. You're not dying in there until he wants you dead.

Wiz: While all of this applies to every canon's version of SCP-106, some variations have specific powers and abilities that would contradict the backstory we've established thus far.

Boomstick: See, SCP continuity is kinda.... nonexistent. The only continuity is what you personally consider canon. In some stories, 106 is Dr. Scranton and in some others he's, like, a World War 1 soldier or a humsn subspecies or whatever. For the sake of argument, we'll be letting 106 use stuff he gets even from versions that contradict the Dr. Scranton story.

Wiz: Like the time he killed another member of his species despite their own Intangibility. Or the time he regenerated from SCP-173 snapping his neck over and over again.

Boomstick: Oh, yeah. 106 can go toe to toe with its fellow SCPs, like SCP-076. Or Able for short. And he's strong enough to punch through titanium doors with an energy equivalent to 158,454 grams of tnt.

Source:

Wiz: Able is also fast enough to effortlessly dodge automatic fire from assault rifles, easily evading projectiles that move at 715 meters per second. As Able and the Old Man are consistently depicted as comparable, to the point of frequently keeping up with the exact same enemies, 106 should scale to this.

Boomstick: As you might've guessed, the guy who went from being one the Foundation's best scientists to one of its most dangerous contained anomalies isn't exactly all there anymore. No version of him is.

Wiz: Yes indeed, 106 is at best an incredibly intelligent predator capable of setting elaborate traps to catch its prey offguard, only to get done in by its own sadism. At his worse, however, he's Dr. Robert Scranton. A desperate, broken shell of a man stuck lookina for a wife he doesn't realize he's already murdered.

Boomstick: Like a cruel joke, with no one left to laugh.

End clip:

youtube

Introduction:

Wiz: Alright, the combatants are set. We've run the data through all possibilities.

Boomstick: It's time for a DEATH BATTLEEEEEEEE!

Fight Music:

youtube

Fight:

Anna Lang huffed and puffed as she ran down the sterile corridors of the Foundation, the containment breach alarm blaring in her ears threatened to deafen her with each step. She needed to get out of here. Before he found her again.

Anna flicked her key card through the vip emergency exit access panel, but got a rejection bleep in response. She furrowed her brows and swiped her card again. She knew she had the right clearance. The red light flashed again. Rejected.

Even over the alarms, she could hear the sound of gunfire and screams not far from here. Anna swiped her card through the scanner three more times in quick succession. The light flashed red three times to match. An ear piercing, headache enducing, all encompassing laugh split through the noise around her, echoing off the walls of the narrow corridor.

"Having trouble, Doctor?" An unfamiliar voice asked. Anna spun around with a pistol she'd grabbed off a dead guard and craned her aim up to reach the face of the man who had suprised her. The anomaly that grinned back at her wasn't one she recognized. An inhumanly tall, distorted man with long, curly blonde hair and massive boney hands. He towered over her like a statue, his proportions making him look like some kind of funhouse mirror reflection.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Who is a question for people, Doctor. That is something that I am not. As for what, I believe I'll be helping myself to a family meal. Or perhaps not. Either way it is amusing!"

"Wh... what?"

"I believe you humans would call it a 'sport'."

Anna couldn't afford to try the door again. Not when this creature could so easily lunge at her. Her shaking aim stilled and her blood ran cold as another scream rang out not far from them. The thing's smile widened as the cries turned to desperate gurgles for air.

"You need...."

A yellow wooden door with chipping paint appeared beside the entity. The door opened by itself and the figure gestured her in

"....A door."

Anna glanced between the unknown entity and the end of the long hallway the screaming had come from. Her eyes widened as she saw the shambling monster causing the carnage she'd overheard. A limping corpse who gasped at her through cut open, rotting lungs. "...An...na...."

Without a second thought, the researcher burst through the yellow door at a full sprint. Better to risk it than face a guaranteed death at the hands of SCP-106. The door slammed shut and disappeared behind her, before Michael turned to face this new anomaly.

The two looked each other over, prominent sadistic smiles still spread across the faces even as curiosity shined in their eyes. "You do not belong to any Power that I recognize...." Michael began, shifting his long fingers into sharp claws. "....but your delusions smell delicious all the same~"

106 marched forward with an outstretched hand, before being stopped dead by Michael's claws piercing its chest. Their matching smiles curled into winces, with 106 clearly taken aback by Michael's strength. Michael pulled his hand free and watched with a mixture of curiosity and concern as the tar like substance are away at its fingers. "...Fascinating."

While Michael was distracted, a tar puddle appeared beneath his feet. Its legs quickly sinking into it like quicksand. Michael slashed 106 back in a quick stroke before dashing back into his corridors. The yellow door disappeared where Michael had once stood and again his laughter echoed throughout the building.

The Old Man glanced around in irritation. So this is how it felt. No matter. He had played both sides of this game before. Both predator and prey. It would find this interloper and reclaim his Anna from its jaws. There was nowhere in this building he could not reach.

"Does your rotting form suggest that you serve the Corruption? Or has the Stranger found away to disguise itself even from me?" Michael's voice echoed. Perhaps from the ceiling, the Old Man thought, or somewhere inside a vent. "Or do you serve a Fear that is much more... overt?"

106 heard a creaking door open behind him and disappeared into a puddle of rot on the floor before those claws could pierce his skin again. Michael tracked the Old Man downwards, only to get pulled upwards by the length of his hair. 106's liquid had pooled on the ceiling, giving him the perfect vantage from which to ambush its prey. The corpse slammed the twisted man into the ceiling by his roots, before tossing him to the ground. 106 could've dragged Michael into his home reality immediately, but he wanted to toy with the intruder first. Teach it how a real monster hunts.

106 lunged to the floor where Michael's crumpled body lay, looking to have his hand melt into its ribs before he could recover.

For a split second, 106 wasn't lunging at Michael. For a split second before he landed, could swear he was puncing at a terrified, screaming Anna.

The suprise caused it to tumble the landing, crashing through the floor as a result of its attempted course correction. 106 fell deeper into the site, into the sub basements that held up the building's foundation, but Michael did not. As 106 pulled itself free of the rubble, it was as if Michael had never been there at all.

Teleportation? Or use of that blasted door again?

"No, you don't seem to be of the Corruption at all. That wretched hive would give you too many friends to ever fall for that trick."

Trick. An illusionist then? A reality bender What did the twisted man mean by "friends"? What was he?

Perhaps an escalation was in order. The Old Man dragged his hands along the walls of the corridor, melting them as he went. If he couldn't find this creature, he'd simply bring the site down on top of it. The mocking laughter the echoed around him all this time disappeared in a shocked yelp and the blaring alarm fizzed off. The entire floor above collapsed in an avalanche of rubble and concrete, with 106 disappearing at the last possible chance to avoid being entombed.

As the dust settled, a cracked door with an adjar handle lay in a pile or rocks, with a familiar boney hand stick out of the mound beneath it. The Old Man emerged from its home with a look of smug satisfaction on its face, watching Michael's body sink into a portal of muck he created beneath him. With that wretched creature now his to torment, 106 could now reclaim his Anna.

"Robert... Roooooooobeeeeeeeert~"

Dr. Scranton's voice hitched in his gnarled up throat. It had been so long since his wife had called his name. He turned the door's hanging knob carefully. He failed to notice how the door's frame seemed to sprout hungry teeth.

What waited behind the door was not his Anna. Towering over him with the same stretched out features Michael wore was a distorted creature in the approximate shape of Robert's dear wife. It reached out with massive, boney hands and pulled Dr. Scranton inside.

Robert screamed for the first time in years, his mangled body finding life and energy that simply beyond it in its mutilated state. No one would hear it. The door slammed shut behind him too quick. Anna's laughter echoed through the Site's ruins with the same inflection as Michael's spiraling, distorted laugh.

And then the door disappeared.

KO!

Explanation:

Boomstick: ...Wiz, I'm gonna be honest, that wet old man cannot taste good. "Throat of Delusion Incarnate" or not.

Wiz: This was a fairly interesting matchup with a few complex factors involved. While Michael did have a significant, if incalculable, strength advantage thanks to his Desolation scaling chain, 106 was a whooping seven times faster than him. That, when taken in conjunction with 106's ability to hurt intangible enemies, as well as his corrosive liquids to melt him on contact, made the Old Man a significant threat to Michael.

Boomstick: That's about where it all starts swinging the other way though. For starters, The Distortion has been around since the very dawn of time, making it much older and more experienced than even the oldest versions of 106 and it's ability to fuck with the mind. If it can potentially make 106 believe that he doesn't even exist, then a lot of 106's clever planning and smarts goes out the window.

Wiz: Dr. Scranton's mental health took a massive toll from his time in the Red Reality, to the point where he actually fell in love with the LSS due to it being his only company, making him particularly vulnerable to Michael's games. And even non-Scranton versions of 106 have a sadistic streak as their consistently exploitable weakness, giving Michael a character flaw he could leverage.

Boomstick: And then there's Rob's biggest oppstical. He has no way of actually destroying the Distortion. Could he kill Michael or destroy the door if he gets either inside his pocket reality? Absolutely, but both of those things can be replaced. "Michael" is just the hand to a much larger Distortion entity. And there's no way the Old Man can squeeze all of those corridors into his little world.

Wiz: Neither is it possible he could destroy the corridors from within. They're consistently described as endless. Even Jared Hopworth, an Avatar of the Flesh that was so mutated and inhuman that the Distortion found him completely indigestible, had no way of escaping or hurting the corridors from within until he was let out. No matter how many mirrors or walls were broken.

Boomstick: The only thing that could destroy the corridors from within was The Archivist by the time of Season 5, and at that point, he was basically the Anti-Christ. Most 106 could do with his little puddles at that point in give Michael indigestion.

Wiz: SCP-106 may be one of the most nightmarish monsters in the Foundation's library, but he couldn't stand up to the Distortion's madness, size, and sheer eldritch power.

Boomstick: Unfortunately for Scranton, this one just Spiraled out of his control.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

The Distortion!

#fictional throwdown fridays #movie night #the magnus archives #michael shelley #michael distortion #scp foundation #scp 106 #robert scranton #death battle #wiz #boomstick

11 notes · View notes