#and he would go on a story telling adventure it was so enthusiastic and genuine

[moeblob]

Lil warm up doodle because I'd been playing some Thropes and then watched some dubbed DunMeshi and am a Damien Haas enjoyer so. Enjoy a Shez.

[myuroll]

one album, countless memories — gojo x fem!reader summary: your kids find an album of photos of you and satoru from highscool till now, you decide to explain all the silly lil stories you have fluff, crack, established relationship (married), you have two kids, dad!gojo, reader is called mommy/seen as a mother figure, a lil angst, maybe weird pacing..?

i liked the idea i had until i executed it..this isn't my best work (っ◞‸◟ c) CHOSO MAYBE NEXT (dont trust me)

wc: 1.3k

when the kids began to learn to crawl, they were already exploring every nook and cranny of the house. if a cabinet was open, you could bet they'd squeeze inside and drool over every item they found.

at one point you and satoru found yourselves panicking around the house because the baby had mysteriously vanished. as it turned out, they had sought refuge in a laundry basket and slept soundly.

now, at the ages of two and three, nothing has changed. their adventure-loving mindset has only grown stronger. so, when you felt a gentle tug on your clothes and looked down, you saw none other than your kids attempting to hold up a thick, hard-covered book—the album.

“mommy mommy! wook what we found!” exclaimed aoi, your three-year-old.

“ooo, let mommy see,” you responded, crouching down to their height and picking up the album from them.

“picthuresh!” added haru, your two-year-old, with excitement, raising his chubby little hands.

you couldn't help but chuckle at his adorable enthusiasm as you skimmed through the first few pages of the album. nostalgia washed over you as you relived your high school memories.

"do you want me to tell you stories about these pictures?" you asked gently, a warm smile on your face.

your kid gasped excitedly, you could practically see the stars in their eyes at your suggestion.

"yesh! yesh!" haru exclaimed, eagerly nodding his head. then he asked, "daddy too?"

"of course! let's go get daddy then, okay?"

they nodded enthusiastically, and you took aoi's hand while haru sprinted as fast as his short, stubby legs would carry him to satoru's office.

before you knew it, you found yourself on the cozy couch in satoru's office, sitting next to him with the kids happily nestled in your lap, and the album held in front of you.

"which one do you want to know about, kiddo?" satoru asked, helping the kids flip through the album.

their giggles grew louder as they stumbled upon a peculiar picture of a familiar white-haired man. you couldn't help but join in on the laughter as you laid eyes on the photo.

"thish one! thish one!" the kids exclaimed in unison, their little fingers eagerly pointing at the picture.

"oh my god, i totally forgot about this!" you exclaimed, scanning the two pages filled with pictures from your day at the beach, which happened to be near a waterpark.

in the picture, water gushed and flowed through the waterslides with thousands of twists and turns. however, the main focus of the photo was a pink waterslide, and there, stiff as a board, sat satoru. the caption underneath, written in fine handwriting, read: "when satoru got stuck in the waterslide… 2006/06/11."

"do we really have to talk about… that one?" satoru sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

“daddy, back then was very annoying, you know! he wanted to go on that slide no matter how many times we warned him that he would be too big, and then he got stuck!” you recounted, giggling.

"hey!" satoru quickly turned his head towards you, feeling insulted. "i was just…ambitious! i didn't realize the slides would be that tiny!" he defended himself.

"daddy wash fat?!?!"

aoi's innocent and genuine words caused you to burst into uncontrollable laughter. your eyes crinkled at the corners, and a wide, amused smile adorned your face. meanwhile haru gasped as if aoi had just solved all the mysteries of the universe.

"nononono! daddy was strong!" satoru protested, shaking his hands and head frantically. "daddy is strong!"

you couldn't help but let out a hearty chuckle at satoru's attempts to salvage his image in front of the kids. however, haru stared at him with a blank expression, still shocked by the revelation, while aoi looked at him suspiciously, unsure whether to believe him or not.

"let's just move on…" satoru grumbled reluctantly, flipping the pages until something caught their attention.

“wooow! mommy wooks pwetty in thish one,” aoi exclaimed, awestruck by the wedding pictures, with haru nodding eagerly in agreement.

"she does, doesn't she?" satoru replied dreamily, his gaze fixed on the photographs.

blushing, you couldn't help but giggle shyly in response to the compliment. you leaned in and planted kisses on their cheeks, while whispering a quiet 'thank you.'

"whath are you doing...there?" haru asked curiously, tilting his head cutely.

you looked at the two pictures, one capturing you reading your vows and the other showing satoru reading his own. this caption read: ‘they did! 2014/05/21’

"we were our reading vows. it's like making a promise to each other," you explained to them.

"and i remember mommy's vows quite well! hmmm...what was it?" satoru teased, 'i love you with my whole heart, with a passion that can't be expressed in words. with you, i have found my home–'"

"stoppp!!! that's so corny…" you interrupted, placing one hand over satoru's mouth and the other partially covering your face. "i never said that! daddy is a liar!!"

you could feel satoru's smile growing beneath your hand as your face flushed with embarrassment. in response, he playfully nibbled the palm of your hand, causing you to squeal and retract it from his mouth.

"satoru!" you squealed, wiping your hand on the couch. haru and aoi burst into giggles, thoroughly entertained by their parents' antics.

with a playful side-eye directed at satoru, you continued to flip through the pages of the album as your kids oooo'd and aahh's at various photos before pointing to one they wanted to know more detail about.

"oooo, hamshther!" haru exclaimed excitedly.

"sweetie, that's a rat," you gently corrected, and haru's face twisted into a look of disgust.

in the picture, you and satoru appeared as blurry figures, running around in fear and disgust, while suguru held the rat up to the camera by its tail (you could see a glimpse of shoko's pinky in the right corner of the photo). this time, the caption read: "we found the rat. 2006/07/02."

"ewwww!" aoi expressed her disdain, scrunching her face adorably.

"a rat had somehow snuck into mommy's dorm, and shoko and her lost where it went! so, of course, mommy asked her knight in shining armor to find it!" satoru boasted, pointing to himself with his thumbs, "i had no choice but to save my princess!"

you playfully rolled your eyes and lightly hit him on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper into aoi's and haru's ears as satoru continued to gloat. "it really wasn't that cool, trust me."

the kids giggled at the information but acted oblivious to satoru's boasts, staring at him with starry eyes and admiration. however, a shiver ran down your spine as you remembered you and satoru on the couch, getting up to grab snacks, and shoko spotting the dead rat right where you had been sitting moments before.

"who ish thath?" haru innocently and curiously asked, pointing at the jet-black-haired man with a bun tied up, one strand in front and a calm yet cheeky smile— suguru geto.

satoru's features softened into a sweet but bittersweet smile as he gazed at the man his daughter had pointed out.

"he's my best friend."

"can we meeth him one day?" aoi asked excitedly.

"maybe, he lives far away now," satoru responded, and you discreetly reached behind the kids to hold his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

"awww… okay…" aoi replied with a hint of sadness and a small pout.

before you knew it, the rest of the day had slipped away in a flurry of giggles, snickers, and nostalgic conversations with your kids. satoru had just finished recalling another story with suguru (as per aoi's request and haru's encouragement), and you couldn't help but notice how they leaned on each other, peacefully asleep. soft, gentle snores filled the air, adding to the adorable scene.

smiling tenderly, you and satoru exchanged a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the moment. satoru discreetly took his phone from his pocket and captured a picture of the heartwarming sight.

just another picture for the album.

[cleolinda]

Creepypasta: Ted the Caver (2001)

There was a season of Are You Scared? that presented some actual famous creepypasta (pasta? pastas?), and I was so giddy about it. I love creepypasta and Weird Internet Fiction, and I recognized all the famous ones right off the bat; the moment there was a season preview and a cave was mentioned, I KNEW. So the episode with "Ted the Caver" instantly became one of my favorites ("GET IN THE FUCKING CAVE, TEDDY!!"). But it also kills me that the show presents the final installment as if it's the whole story: just one spooked, caveless guy wandering around meebling about his spelunking obsession. Buddy, there is SO MUCH caving in the full version, you don't even know. There is NONE MORE CAVING:

[Note: The original Angelfire site still works, but while I was researching this, I started running into malware. As such, I'm going to also link you to an unofficial mirror of the site at a creepypasta wiki.]

But I get it: there's no way to read the entire story aloud for a half-hour show. It was originally published as an unassuming hobbyist blog in 2001, and "Ted the Caver" is partly so effective because it is genuinely just an amateur caving blog for about 10,000 words. My understanding is that the author really is a caving enthusiast—I mean, he'd have to be, because the story is filled with actual photos of him and a friend chipping their way through a hole the size of a baseball into a cave they dub "Floyd's Tomb." So this was a real expedition... that the author wrote a delightful little spoop around.

Honestly, the real horror for me isn't even the Descent-style Something that seems to be living down there; it's the genuine terror of these fools squeezing themselves through eight-inch openings into the bowels of the earth, God bless. You can tell the mundane aspects are absolutely true to life, because the squeezing and the scraping and the panic—I'll just stop there, in case anyone has any phobias, claustro or otherwise. If I didn't before, I do now.

But it also has to be noted, "real horror" is what "Ted the Caver" is all about: the horror of a story backed up by reams of accurate detail and told through a really, really basic-ass Angelfire website. (I say this lovingly, as someone who had a shitty Geocities site herself.) It truly looks like it's just someone's blog—because that's mostly what it really is. Who wrote it? Well, an actual guy named Ted:

Well, I guess it’s time I add my two cents to the topic. My name is Ted and I am the author of the story you have been discussing. I am the original author. I created the story on my own and copied no one

...he wrote, in response to a plagiarism accusation (turns out the other guy copied him, and closely at that).

Between December 30, 1999 and February 24, 2000 Brad and I worked on a passage in Freeway cave. We made numerous trips, and spent many hours of hard work, before we were finally able to get through the opening and into the new section of cave. During the course of our adventure I kept a caving journal and documented our activities surrounding our attempts to be the first people to enter the new passage. Since we were giving friends and family members updates as we worked, I thought it would be a good idea to put my entire journal on a web page, along with our pictures, then we could simply refer people to the site. The thought then occurred to me: It sure would be fun to embellish the story a little!

Ted hasn't given his full name, but he is an actual Ted, it seems. And honestly, as much as I would like him to be credited as openly as Eric Heisserer is for "The Dionaea House," it really works in the story's favor that it's so difficult to figure out who wrote it. Not to spoil you, but the story told by the blog, much to Shane and Ryan's frustration in the video above, ends in a single puff of irony:

See all of you soon, with a lot of answers! Love, Ted

Magnificent. Because, let's face it: if a cave monster really did eat trap and eat your friend, isn't this what it would look like? No silly explanation for how a video camera somehow made it back to his friends and family from, like, the center of the fucking earth through a hole the size of a cantaloupe. No, your man there is just gone. And he's given enough detail in previous entries for you to imagine that what he finally came face to face with down there is Not Good. That's enough.

[alhaithamcore]

i really hope we get more events where characters get to visit different regions, especially sumeru and liyue cuz they’re my faves

like imagine alhaitham going on vacation to liyue specifically to learn about its culture and traditions, cue him running into zhongli who knows literally everything about everything and internally haitham’s just like !!!! omg!! and then they chat for hours about the most obscure things. and haitham is just completely enthralled and zhongli finds himself smiling and enjoying himself because it’s been such a long time since he’s been able to just chat with someone like this

or ningguang showing kaveh around the jade chamber because he is absolutely beside himself with fascination (and excitement) about the architectural design of the place, she even lets him examine the blueprints and answers any questions he has about the construction process, fondly observing the way his eyes light up when she tells him different facts about its design and functionality

or yunjin showing nilou around the teahouse and introducing her to the yun-han opera troupe, and nilou is just completely amazed because she’s never really had a chance to explore other nations’ performing arts traditions before and she thinks yunjin has the prettiest voice ever!!!! and then they teach each other their favorite dance techniques and nilou is just so happy to find someone who loves performing as much as she does!!

or tighnari volunteering at bubu pharmacy and eagerly watching baizhu prepare different prescriptions and medicines, fascinated by his various explanations and techniques, and he’s so excited to see plants from different nations that are hard to acquire in sumeru, enthusiastically scribbling in his notebook and making sure to read up on native liyue plants when he returns home!! he even accompanies qiqi when she goes to collect herbs and is there to help her when she forgets things and baizhu lets him keep some of the herbs as a gift

or dehya spending a day on board the crux while beidou tells stories of her various adventures, admiring her bravery and carefree spirit, particularly enjoying the tale of haishan’s defeat. beidou eagerly listens to dehya recount the daily life of an mercenary in sumeru city, enthralled by the events of the sabzeruz festival samsara, lesser lord kusanali and the treachery of the akademiya sages. they exchange battle tactics and spar with each other, and dehya smiles and laughs because she is genuinely enjoying herself, making a mental note to tell candace everything about her experiences as soon as she returns to aaru village

i could go on and on but this post is already kinda long and i don’t wanna bore y’all fjskdksks-

anyways tldr i love sumeru and liyue very much and i think their respective characters would be best friends. thank you for coming to my ted talk

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Nintendo-vember Level 2: Howard and Nester: How you are not supposed to pay tribute to a comic

Ahhhh, Nintendo Power. Published by Nintendo of America from 1988 till August of 2012, this magazine was part of the childhood of many Nintendo fans. A magazine that functioned as a gaming guide, advertisement for new games and just fun overall for people enthusiastic for Nintendo.

While we did not have Nintendo Power like that where I am from, we had a similar magazine called “Club Nintendo”, which ran from the 90s up till the early 2000s (2002 to be precise), after which it unfortunately got unceremoniously canceled. I had access to these issues thanks to relatives who enjoyed them a lot and honestly, I enjoyed them too. Very informative, highlighting many games and filled with some really fun comic stories here and there.

Now, Club Nintendo wasn’t entirely like Nintendo Power though. For example, among our comics in the magazine we did not have the subject of today’s post: Howard and Nester.

Now for those unaware who they are, a short explanation: Howard and Nester were the characters of a short series of comic strips from the very early days of Nintendo Power. Howard was an adult business man with a bow tie that Matt Smith may like, while Nester was a ten to eleven year old redhead NES player. In other words, he was a little shit.

Howard himself btw was based on Howard Phillips, initially a warehouse manager for Nintendo of America, who at a very young age (he was only in his 20s when he started working for Nintendo) joined the company and would play a major role in the marketing of the NES launch in America. He was also an avid videogamer of the “olden times” so to speak and was Nintendo of America’s spokesperson number uno. Liked by many within the industry, he did however eventually leave Nintendo in 1991 (at only 32 years old), to pursue careers in other companies. Which did not work out quite as well, according to Wikipedia. Though he is still hanging around, kicking, playing and working in the industry, for some german firm no one really knows about.

Man, he even looks kinda like the eleventh Doctor.

Anyway, back to the comic itself: The comic strips were essentially just meant as short, two page fillers ad would feature the caricature of Howard Phillips and Nester, the later supposed to represent Nintendo fanboys, finding themselves in environments related to a current videogame and dealing with whatever situation. Most of the time just ending in some comedic pratfall for a rather impatient Nester to suffer.

Then, after 25 strips, Howard, in relation to Howard Phillips leaving Nintendo, also left the comic, resulting in the thing ending and Nester going on some mini adventures on his own.

Now honestly, reading those strips I don’t think they are really bad. Howard as a character is rather supportive, there are small hints to games they thematically integrate in the comics here and there and some of the scenarios are kinda fun. Plus even the linework is okay for this sort of comic.

However, I genuinely think that Nester is a little bit of a shit. Especially in his first two strips.

He just comes off as smug and a bit of a know it all. Believing he is better than Howard, not grateful for any advice and trying to come off like he is an expert in the eyes of younger, impressionable kids.

Oh god, he is Dobson!

Though that may be what adds to the pratfalls he suffers then. In addition, I am a bit baffled by what games they supposedly star in or how some of the games they talk about are executed in comic.

I mean, the Ducktales comic for example has nothing to do with Ducktales really aside of the moon duck enemy thing kinda being in it (though that may have been related to Disney telling them not to use Scrooge)…

And then there is the fact, that a comic based on the Golgo 13 game was made.

You know, THE Golgo 13? The game based on the famous manga about an assassin for hire?

I mean, what next? A comic based on them in the setting of Home Sweet Home? Though that may have been cool.

It is just, I can see how the duo left some impression on early readers, but I can’t see how they could get quite the appeal, that back in 2008 Nintendo Power would release THIS comic, featuring a now adult Nester talking to his son about the good old days. A little manga-esque like tribute, some people enjoyed.

Not so much You know who though, who decided to draw instead THIS comic in order to “honor” the two and the style of the comic. And in doing so just ended up showing that he kinda never understood the character of Nester, nor the concept behind the original tribute in the first place.

So, why does the comic suck? Because it is just an excuse for Dobson to project his own shitty opinion about how Nintendo “dishonored” the origins of the characters he claims to love onto Nester. All while making also both characters accidentally come off as losers and creepy. Particularly Howard comes off as horrible in the comic. After all, based on the set up established via the first two panels, I can only assume that the guy kidnapped a ten year old boy against his will and put him into cryostasis. Separating him from his family and friends, only to thaw him up again twenty years later. And for what? To show him how far games have come since then?

I get that the comic is supposed to be a joke (though I see nothing in it that makes me laugh), but… well..

For that set up is rather unfortunate and feels more like it should be part of some existential horror story about someone finding themselves completely displaced in time and seeing, how their disappearance tore apart their loved ones. I for one rather ask myself, what happened to Nester’s parents? Were they accused of killing their son and send to prison? Did they commit suicide? Did Howard just kill them to get to Nester in the first place?

And the “motivation” to freeze him -I want to show you how games are played in the future- is just… that doesn’t even feel like a plan. I am genuinely at loss for words to explain the “logic” that Howard must have had and how none of that helps “the joke”.

Like look, the idea that Howard would e.g. pull out some magic item or machine to show Nester how in the future games are played and giving him a bit of a cultural shock only to return back to the present, feels like a set up that could have worked. But this is not the set up of this comic. This comic has Howard use an extreme measurement to achieve his goal, that comes just off as psychotic.

But hey, why bother elaborating on the ramifications of Howard having tortured a child like that (which feels like a great disservice to the real Howard Phillips), when there are games to play.

Or rather, complain about, because that is the only thing Nester does, starting from his shock at seeing Link now having blond hair.

Which is stupid as shit. I am sorry, but considering the kid had been on ice since the late 80s according to this comic, I think his first reaction to seeing game graphics from around 2008 would be “holy shit” as a result of a cultural shock. Not the fact that Link now has blond hair.

Also, way to prove how Nester is only a phony Nintendo fanboy, because he calls Pit by the name of Kid Icarus

See, little trivia bit here: The tendency of calling little Pit (btw, one of my favorite characters in the Nintendo canon ever since I played Uprising. I love that little shota) Kid Icarus, came mostly because of the awful Captain N: The Game Master cartoon from 1989, which named him by his game title. All while the game was a stable of the NES library since 1987 and Pit’s name was a stable in its freaking manual

Look for yourself: Page 7.

Also, getting riled up over Mario not being from Brooklyn when that was NEVER a point in the actual games anyway or Link’s hair color?

Hm, doesn’t that sound familiar…

Look, I am not much a fan of Nester based on the strips I saw, but it would be obvious even to Helen Keller, that Nester here is not himself. He is a stand in for Dobson and his shitty opinions on how Nintendo “betrayed” the old NES fans by making Mario and Co more marketable and ignore their “true and honest” origins. The “real” Nester based on the strips comes off to me more like someone who would freaking geek out at seeing his favorite game characters being these detailed, cartoony badasses fighting equally great villains.

After all, playing as Link who can ride on a horse and fights a giant sized pig demon? Mario throwing planets at Bowser? Mario and Link duking it out with other heroes? Seeing Pit and Palutena in Smash Bros Brawl? Which btw came out in January of 2008, so Nester complaining about not seeing Pit- oh I am sorry “Kid Icarus” would be inaccurate too.

The point I am trying to make is, that if you grew up with the bare minimum presentation some NES games had, you would be gushing over anything “modern”

Heck, considering the sort of stuff Nester played or was into in the comics, he would likely drop the Wii once he learnt about stuff like God of War, Ratchet and Clank and other “badass” and “cool” games other consoles can offer.

But no. Nester is simply overwhelmed with the concept of 3D and “realism”. Though lets be real here, I think realism in videogames is an oxymoron, independent of what console we talk about. I mean, what is e.g. “realistic” about Mario, Sonic, God of War, Final Fantasy, Resident Evil etc? I know at least half a class of biologists who cry each time a new Resident Evil scientist comes off with a new variant of the virus.

Anyway, he is so overwhelmed, he simply just wants to go back to the old days and the game he used (or rather “use”. Btw, great job at even failing at simple past tense) to play.

Only loving the Nintendo Wii once Nester tells him about the online shop and that he can play on it the same shlock he already likely has memorized before Howard put him into cryostasis and as such deprived him of a proper childhood.

Meaning that Howards “plan” to show Nester the future of gaming failed, because instead of embracing the new while also loving the old, he simply rejects the former and embraces the later even more tightly, putting it on a pedestal the same way Dobson does.

Which frankly, is one of the aspects I find the most annoying about Dobson in general when it comes to Nintendo. I get it. He grew up with the NES and I admit, the console had some really great games that build the corner stones of many franchises and the Nintendo empire.

But, and you can crucify me for saying that, by modern day standards (or heck, even standards set up by the follow up console, the SNES) the NES era was kinda bad and many games, even a lot of the classics, can’t stand the test of time as much anymore than they once did.

Before you burn me on the stake, let me explain: I myself grew up with the SNES and GameBoy as my first consoles, so I never played the NES games, even though I was aware of them through Club Nintendo. Only in recent years, thanks to the NES mini and some game collections I downloaded on the PS4, I got to play some of the classic games. And frankly, I think a lot of them suck in some regard. Like the technical limitations of the time, the at times unfair programming to make certain games extra hard and how quick you can actually get through the game once you know what to do, make some games a bit of an underwhelming experience.

Granted, unlike Dobson I will admit, that my opinion is very biased. Coming from my own love of the SNES, as well as decades of playing other games too, including sequels to many of these starter games that managed to polish up things in term of gameplay and presentation. And there is no denying, that there have still been many great games on the console by Nintendo itself, but also third party publishers such as Capcom, Squaresoft, Enix or Konami.

Kirby, Mario Bros 3, Megaman 3 up to 6, Ducktales, Castlevania 3, Contra, Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest and Earthbound are at least some titles that come to my mind.

But it was also the console that gave us stuff like the LJN published videogames, got a shit ton of unnecessary equipment like the Power Glove, established the term “Nintendo Hard” and frankly, I find myself unable to genuinely play the NES Zelda games or Kid Icarus without feeling them quite underwhelming and a bit flawed. So bottom line, I think it was important, I think good stuff came out of it, but it was only the first steps into the right direction. The NES learnt how to walk, so the Switch could run.

Dobson meanwhile worships the era like it was the greatest thing ever, never topped and shoves his opinion into Nester’s mouth. Resulting in the strip’s entire message boiling down essentially to the following:

The past was greater than what we have now and is the only thing I love. Oh, and fuck you for making me try new things.

Which is ironic, coming from the person who among other things would claim that such a behavior is toxic years later. Going onto rants how Kylo Ren is such a nostalgic nerd and criticism of “toxic fans” when he ranted about Star Wars – The Last Jedi and that critics of it are all Nazis. Even though Kylo is the one saying “let the past die”.

There is also just the fact, that the comic obviously misses the idea behind the original Howard and Nester tribute comic from Nintendo Power.

Like sure, the comic in the magazine was flawed. The manga inspired art work wasn’t that great and Nester felt like he grew up into the sort of young adult who made videos on youtube in the late 2008s, trying to emulate the AVGN by reviewing old NES games and acting like he is hardcore for enjoying “The Wizard”. All while being in reality more of a dork, especially in the eyes of a son that actually comes off as way older than he likely should be if Nester is only in his late twenties or early thirties.

But I think that was kind of the point. Making Nester more a caricature of the “gaming nerd” of the time period, while also indirectly playing a decent tribute to the old days and showing Nester having gotten older, though not necessarily wiser. But considering his kid seems to be doing okay, I doubt he is that terrible of a dad.

Which begs the question though, what is it about the comic that pissed Dobson off that much? The “manga” style? Granted, I think they could have gone more with a style akin to what the original comics had, which is the only thing Dobson has going for his page, that I can actually appreciate. But it could have been worse.

Is it the idea of Nester actually changing as a person, growing up? I mean, considering how allergic Dobson was often times to the idea of change (except when it was related to dumb reboots that may piss off republican strawmen in his head), I could actually believe that.

But if that was what pissed him off and his idea was to make a comic doing a tribute to these two the “right way”, Dobson failed miserably. Because all he did was make Howard come off like a psychopath for freezing up a kid to show him some games and Nester like a moron who can’t appreciate positive change in the media he consumes. All because Dobson was rather focused to vent his own frustration about Nintendo through their mouths, rather than respectfully draw a story with them. Something he even admitted

The artwork may be decent here, but the writing is a failed assignment.

The most ridiculous thing about that being, that either some time later or before, Dobson made a way better comic starring NEster, that actually gets the vibe of the original

And before someone claims I can only complain and not bring some alternative to the table how to execute the comic, here is what I may have done:

Start the comic as Howard and Nester in the Back to The Future NES game, supposedly having just finished it. Only for Nester to end up playing with the controls of the DeLorean and in doing so transporting him and Howard into the future. Materializing in 2008, they then learn about the actual positive things happening to videogames ever since , though Howard may also learn to some degree about the bad stuff whe he reads up an article titled “Rise and Fall of videogames” or something related to Jack Thompson). Have Nester for example geek out about Smash Bros, question what a Pikachu is, hitting himself in the head accidentally with a Wii Remote, but overall try to also give a positive message to it all.

Like Nester befriending  bunch of kids via Wii playing. The comic then ending with the two travelling back to 1988, Nester all pumped up about the prospect how great videogames will turn out in the future -perhaps also being a bit impatient at the prospect to wait 20 years to play Smash Bros Brawl again- while Howard muses about the things yet to come. The final panel perhaps being set in 2008 with an older Nester looking over a little brother who befriended by accident his younger self, challenging the younger one to a rematch he had “lost” in the past.

I know, sounds corny as fuck, but it at least would nullify the entire “I kidnapped you and froze you up” implications of the original comic by Dobson.

Now, unlike Dobson, I do not intend to leave a bitter taste in the mouth of the readers, so I want to end this post on a sweeter note by informing you about the following:

When Nintendo Power eventually ended on issue 285 in December of 2012, someone at the editorial team must have remembered Howard and Nester, because they decided to have this little two page comic in it.

Nester, drawn in the classic style, as a way more well adjusted adult than in the 2008 comic, reminiscing about the magazine that he owes his existence and had brought him many hours of joy. His son helping him accept that it may be over for the magazine, but that the enjoyment will never 100% go away. Even adding a little framed bow tie in the background of the last panel, symbolizing that in hindsight Nester likely came to appreciate Howard as more than just an annoying mentor sort of figure. All before heading out to play a new Mario game with his son. Leaving the past behind but close, while embracing the future.

A comic, that in my opinion hits on the sweet “bittersweet” spot of such things as Fullmetal Alchemist or Amphibia. Giving the “story” a proper wrap up and assuring people that it is over, but that the characters themselves in a way are -unlike Dobbear- never gone.

And if you want to read all the strips of Howard and NEster, here is a link to the archive I found for this post.

Level 2 is done. Time for some bonus round and then the next level soon. Cause now we are really going deep into his whinning over the superiority of the old Nintendo canon

[whoovesnassistant]

Skit Contest Entry 10

“Ogres and Oubliettes” - By MagnaFae

INT. - TARDIS LOUNGE The TARDIS door creaks open and then shuts. Hoofsteps sound at a trotting pace on a metal floor. DOCTOR (enthusiastic) Welcome back, Derpy! Are you prepared for a game night of unrelenting fun?

DERPY

I sure am! And since it's my week to pick the game, I have something new!

TICK TOCK

Did you procure a new expansion pack for Seekers of the Lunchbox?

DERPY

Good guess, but no. Let me show you!

A saddlebag is opened, followed by the clacking of dice, the rustling of paper, and the gentle thump of a hardback book.

DOCTOR

Dice? Character sheets? And a handbook...this couldn't be - ?

DERPY (interjecting) Ogres and Oubliettes! DOCTOR (to himself) Huh. No pony pun? I don't know whether to find this refreshing or disappointing.

TICK TOCK What manner of game is this?

DERPY

It's a tabletop role-playing game! We tell a fantasy story together and roll these dice to decide the results of the characters' actions. It'll be like an adventure with the Doctor, but with none of the danger!

DOCTOR (indignant) Oi! Can you really call it a proper adventure without a little danger?

DERPY

Sure, for a real adventure, but this is for game night! And there's no room for real stress at game night.

Sound of multiple dice bouncing on the table during TICK TOCK's following line of dialogue. TICK TOCK (fascination) Your collection of dice for this game greatly intrigues me, Derpy. You have cubes, tetrahedrons, octahedrons, dodecahedrons, icosahedrons, and even pentagonal trapezohedrons.

DERPY (hopeful) So you...wanna play? TICK TOCK

Affirmative. I simply must know how these various polyhedrons are implemented into the game.

DERPY (drawn out, pleading) Will you play too, Doctor? Please?

DOCTOR

Oh, alright! I'm not about to pass on game night with my companions.

DERPY (enthusiastic) Yay! Ogres & Oubliettes night is on!

INT. - TARDIS LOUNGE

DERPY

Alright! Let’s go around the table and introduce our characters. Starting with...Tick Tock! TICK TOCK (caught off-guard) Oh, um, okay. My character is a... unicorn stallion. DOCTOR

You're playing as yourself?

(Printed with the demonstration version of Fade In)

TICK TOCK

Not necessarily. His class is soldier, subclass artillerist.

DOCTOR (friendly teasing) Still sounds like you, Tick Tock!

TICK TOCK

And he's blue. DOCTOR

Blue?

TICK TOCK (sheepish at the end) Yes. A blue unicorn artillerist soldier named Blueprint. Apologies for my unoriginality. DERPY (encouraging) Actually, I think the name Blueprint is very clever! I'm excited to see how you use the mana cannons!

TICK TOCK (flattered) Thank you, Derpy. I am eager to roll all these dice for said mana cannons.

DERPY giggles in anticipation. DERPY Now you, Doctor! DOCTOR

Alright! I’m playing a griffon detective rogue. No one knows his real name, but he's a drifter, so everyone calls him "The Drifter". And he wears a Stetson! DERPY (friendly teasing) Are you going through another hat phase? Typical Doctor. TICK TOCK

On the contrary, I find these choices to be rather atypical of the Doctor.

DOCTOR

Really now? Care to elaborate?

TICK TOCK

Gladly. I hypothesized that you would create a red-haired unicorn character, in order to attain some form of personal wish fulfillment.

DOCTOR (incredulous) Wish fulfillment?! What for? No fictional gingercorn of mine could ever compare to the genuine article!

TICK TOCK (flattered, confused) You mean...me? Um, thank you?

DOCTOR

You're welcome. Moving along - Derpy!

DERPY

I'm playing Sugarplum the reindeer. She's an oracle mage who has visions of the future in her dreams.

DOCTOR (stifling laughter) And would you say these visions of Sugarplum's...dance in her head? The DOCTOR laughs at his own joke. DERPY sighs in exasperation.

DERPY (awkward, apologetic) Doctor, we can't understand your jokes if they're only funny in another universe. DOCTOR (grumbling, pouty) I swear, this whole blasted pony universe wants to make me the joke...

TICK TOCK

Incidentally, Derpy, that character concept is reminiscent of your historical alias from Neighers, Bright Eyes. Was that intentional?

DERPY (surprised) Oh wow, I didn't even make that connection! I guess we're all playing characters based on ourselves, huh?

TICK TOCK (amused) We have established that Blueprint is not me. He is blue. And fictional.

DOCTOR

Alright! Are we all ready to begin?

DERPY

Yep! Give me just a moment to find the right page, and I'll set the scene for our adventure. Ahem...

Sound of pages turning, which transitions to the sound of a winter wind blowing through dry leaves. INT. - TARDIS LOUNGE/IMAGINARY NEVERFREEZE JUNGLE

DERPY (dramatic) Blueprint, the Drifter, and Sugarplum are walking along a hoofpath, deep in the Neverfreeze Jungle. A sudden cold snap settles over the land, which is not normal for this tropical region. Night is falling, and so is the temperature. What do you do?

A short segment of copyright-free Wild West instrumental whistle music plays over the DOCTOR's next line of dialogue.

DOCTOR (Western accent) Rest easy, pardners. My torches will keep ya'll warm and shed light on the path ahead of us. The music abruptly ends.

TICK TOCK (confused) Doctor, why are you speaking like that?

DOCTOR

Oh! That's how my character talks!

TICK TOCK (discouraged) I wasn't aware that we had to change our voices to distinguish the characters from ourselves.

DERPY (reassuring) Oh! You don't have to do any of that, Tick Tock! You can just describe what Blueprint says and does without talking "in character". TICK TOCK

In that case, Blueprint accepts the Drifter's offer of a torch and examines his surroundings.

The sound of one die bouncing on a wooden table. TICK TOCK (cont'd) Seventeen on the Perception check. I think that is relatively high.

DERPY

It is! In the torchlight, you spot a nearby cottage. The windows are dark. Hmm...I wonder if Sugarplum has seen this cottage in a dream before.

The sound of bouncing thuds of two dice on a wooden table, followed by the sound of pages turning. DERPY (cont'd) That's a seventy-two out of one hundred on my Premonition percentage, which means...Yes! Sugarplum says, "We should knock on the door! I have a good feeling about this place and the zebra who lives here."

DOCTOR (eager, giddy) A zebra?! Oh, fantastic! I'm going to walk up and knock on the door!

DERPY

Drifter, you knock on the door and an old zebra in a nightcap opens it. She looks grumpy because you woke her up.

DOCTOR (confident) No worries, I can smooth this over.

A short segment of copyright-free Wild West instrumental whistle music plays over the DOCTOR's next line of dialogue.

DOCTOR (cont'd) (Western accent) Evenin', ma'am. We're a trio of humble travelers lookin' fer a place to bunk down. Can ya spare us a room?

The sound of bouncing thuds of one die on a wooden table.

DOCTOR (cont'd) That is...twelve total for the Negotiation check. DERPY

With a twelve...the zebra says she isn't accepting any tenants.

DOCTOR

Blast!

DERPY

But she'll answer our questions if we have any.

TICK TOCK

Blueprint asks the zebra what she knows about the sudden cold snap.

DERPY

Okay! The old zebra says...

Sound of turning pages as DERPY checks her session notes.

DERPY (cont'd)

...that last night, she heard some howling winds and then snow started falling early this morning! TICK TOCK

Does this account remind Blueprint of any local legends? DERPY

Hmm...you can roll a Lore check to jog your memory. All of us can, actually. Throw those dice!

DOCTOR (excited) Brilliant! I put seven skill points into Lore! C'mon, Detective!

The sound of three dice bouncing on the wooden table.

DERPY

Ten.

TICK TOCK

Seven.

DOCTOR (victorious) Twenty-three!

TICK TOCK (incredulous) How did you-? DOCTOR (interjecting) Detective!

DERPY

Sweet Celestia, that's a high roll! The Drifter recognizes this as the work of one or more windigos.

DOCTOR

You know, I've encountered the wingidos before. Does that mean my character knows their weakness?

DERPY (flatly) No, Doctor. That's metagaming.

DOCTOR

Meta-what?

TICK TOCK It means cheating. DOCTOR

Blast!

DERPY

But the Drifter does know that following the cold air upwind should lead to the windigos' lair.

DOCTOR

Fantastic! Let's be off then, fantasy companions! Avante!

DERPY & TICK TOCK

Avante!

INT. TARDIS LOUNGE/IMAGINARY WINDIGO LAIR Tense, copyright-free instrumental battle music plays over the following exchange of dialogue. DOCTOR

Alright, nobody panic, but the Drifter is out of HP. DERPY

Again?! Doctor, Sugarplum's gonna run out of spells at this rate.

DOCTOR

Well, you don't have to heal him! At least, not immediately. DERPY

I guess, but every turn he's unconscious with frostbite, the windigos get free healing.

DOCTOR

Oh...probably should've considered that before flying in with my daggers.

DERPY

Yeah Doctor, why do you keep running into melee? Just shoot your bow and arrows from the back, up in the air!

DOCTOR

Because all Sugarplum has are ranged spell attacks and Tick Tock -

TICK TOCK (interjecting) Blueprint.

DOCTOR (exasperated) Blueprint has spent the past three rounds not doing his job as the front-liner!

TICK TOCK (flatly) I already explained that I'm setting up my artillery.

DOCTOR (exasperated) We don't need three mana cannons! There's only two windigos! TICK TOCK (insistent) These are scattershot mana cannons. Based on the average damage output of each cannon, three will defeat both windigos in one round. Efficiently.

DOCTOR (shouting) Well, we could have beaten them without the cannons if you just - !

DERPY (shouting, interjecting) Everypony, time out!

The tense, copyright-free instrumental battle music stops.

DERPY (cont'd) (impassioned) We're supposed to be having fun - as a team - and we're not even listening to each other. Please, can we all just take a deep breath and...

DERPY, TICK TOCK, and the DOCTOR inhale and exhale slowly.

DERPY (cont'd) (calmly) Relax? Good. It's just...a game. I'm sorry for complaining so much.

DOCTOR

I'm sorry as well, Ditzy, Tick Tock. I suppose I got a bit heated there.

TICK TOCK

Apologies accepted, and likewise, I apologize for neglecting my duties as the designated melee combatant.

DOCTOR

No no, Tick Tock, I completely understand. You just wanted to use the cannons because you get to roll a lot of ten-sided dice if they hit.

TICK TOCK

That is...a correct assessment. But now that we're in this predicament, how do we claim victory?

DERPY (hopeful) Well, there are three cannons now, and three of us. Maybe we can...?

The tense, copyright-free instrumental battle music returns.

TICK TOCK

That's...yes, that can work. But first, Blueprint administers a healing potion to the Drifter.

DOCTOR (relieved) Thank you!

TICK TOCK

Then he will aim a scattershot mana cannon at the windigos and urge the Drifter and Sugarplum to do the same.

DERPY

Yep!

DOCTOR Done! Now what?

TICK TOCK chuckles in anticipation. The music fades out.

TICK TOCK We fire. Roll to hit.

A heartbeat sound quickens and grows in volume during the next two lines of dialogue. DERPY

I'm gonna shake my dice for luck...

DOCTOR (under his breath) C'mon, roll high, roll high...

The sound of three dice bouncing on the wooden table. TICK TOCK gasps, and then DERPY and the DOCTOR cheer.

DERPY (enthusiastic) All three of us rolled a natural twenty?! W-what?! That's amazing!

TICK TOCK (dumbfounded) That's...amazing is an understatement. There was only a one in eight-thousand probability of that outcome occurring. DERPY

Doctor, did you rig our dice with your Sonic Screwdriver? DOCTOR

And tarnish the sanctity of game night? Perish the thought, Derpy!

DERPY giggles.

DOCTOR (cont'd)

Tick Tock? Would you like to do the honors of rolling our total damage?

Sound of TICK TOCK's magic flaring. TICK TOCK (borderline euphoric) Three critical successes. Applied to three scattershot mana cannons. I get to roll...fifteen pentagonal trapezohedrons.

Sound of fifteen dice clattering noisily onto the table. DERPY and the DOCTOR cheer. TICK TOCK chuckles. TICK TOCK (cont'd) That was immensely satisfying.

DERPY

Guess we have to count it all up now.

DOCTOR

Or we can use a teensy-weensy sonic shortcut.

The Sonic Screwdriver buzzes.

DOCTOR (cont'd) Ninety-nine damage total. That's surely enough.

Sound of turning pages, followed by DERPY's excited gasp. Royalty-free victory music plays.

DERPY

It is! We beat the windigos! Victory hug!

Sound of movement as DERPY pulls the DOCTOR and TICK TOCK into a group hug. DERPY giggles. TICK TOCK sighs contently.

TICK TOCK (happy, mellow) I love game night.

[epersonae]

Fic asks: 25-29

What do you look for in a beta?

I want someone who can see both big picture (is there a whopping great plot hole? does it land the ending?) and little picture (what is UP with my verb tenses? does this moment need more detail?). I love getting another perspective on what I'm doing, to have someone who sees what it is I'm trying to do and helps me be better at that.

(I also appreciate getting comments in my docs about what does work, it's a huge confidence-builder!)

Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I do! And I enjoy it! I hope to be the kind of beta that I want; I know that there are specific detail things that I'm good at, both technical writing things (hi I have been doing some kind of editing as part of my work for more than 20 years now) and attention to canon details. I like to think about what the story wants, and try to be gentle as far as people's particular writing style, rather than trying to push it into something that's closer to my style.

(also: you tell me, what kind of beta am I?)

How do you feel about collaborations?

[stares into space]

The only person I've ever actually collaborated with was Ryn.

It's not even that I'm not open to other collaborations, or haven't been [hooboy there's a whole other story there that is NOT for public consumption], so much as it's just never happened, and honestly at this point I wouldn't know how to start.

It's also that the writing collaboration we had was so intimate, and I don't mean that in a sex way (it's INTERESTING, she notes in retrospect, that all of the writing we did where we were picking POV characters, none of those pairs were ones we shipped. I mean none of them.), I mean that in a very emotional way, where we lived in each other's heads about it. To look back at the previous ask: we were both writing about our deep emotional vulnerabilities through the characters of Lucretia and Taako, working out things that both of us were still kind of in the middle of in our lives at the time. (Goddamn 2018 was a fuckin time)

And so maybe in the way that I am apparently unable to casually date, can I casually collaborate as a writer? I honestly don't know.

Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

I'm going to pick OFMD folks for this one, since that's what I've been reading lately.

I will read almost anything Fyre/@amuseoffyre writes for OFMD; it's ranged all over, and all of it is just goddamn good writing. (the vampire/werewolf AU? remarkably moving and also funny as hell; I love selkie!Buttons with my whole heart.)

not only am I FUCKING OBSESSED with gangnamstiles/@sassygwaine's modern/mob AU, I loved the ttrpg podcast AU, and not just because it was my idea lol

finally, I'm going to go out on a limb, and recommend some just plain old smut, actually: alsaurus/@ofmd-alsaurus writes stuff that is weird, like genuinely quirky stuff, but always makes it so fun and enthusiastic and joyful that I'm always game for it.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I will admit that isn't something I think about very often? but I'm extremely tempted to write something in the same universe as @sassygwaine's a small adventure; I even started writing a bit of Lucius POV, and how it is he decides to join Stede's game. we'll see if I ever get back to that!

[kodzukyan]

talking to the moon

notes: yoshiwara au featuring samurai!baji x courtesan!(fem)reader! some fluff? angst. tw death! song recommendation accompaniments: yoshiwara lament - teto kasane & talking to the moon - kream!

wc: 2.3k

summary: yoshiwara is not meant for love, but you think it's far too late for you when you meet baji keisuke.

For as long as you can remember, your world has been seen through the bars of the harimise. A display, a product, for hours you would merely sit there and hope someone buys you.

The endlessly same scenery: the temple up north, the colorful vibrancy of kimonos, the bridge that leads southwards. Yoshiwara is always the same hustle and bustle of the lively streets. A day of ethereal beauty and strategic deceit; a night of lust and hushed promises, a so-called love that dispels with the first rays of dawn.

Once upon a time, you wanted to be someone who blooms for one person only, to love unreservedly. A childish dream to be free, to love fiercely. But fate steals your freedom and leaves you in the embrace of men who look at you as just another woman who warms their beds. Each bleak night as you look wistfully beyond the faceless man above you, the moon and stars sparkle, despite your torment, almost as if it’s mocking you for being unable to shine as they do.

With each passing day as you stare at your dull reflection in the polished mirror, bitterness seeps into your hardened heart. As your lips become redder and redder with used paint, the light in your eyes becomes dimmer and dimmer with dull indifference.

As if Yoshiwara bears your profound grief, it’s raining tonight. On such a day, you encounter him under the deep veil of darkness. His navy kimono contrasts vividly against your crimson lips, and the rosy pink that dusts his blushing cheeks gently warms your heart. He’s adorable, you think, as he grumbles and his friend nudges him towards the birdcage. Your eyes meet his, and his friend laughs and jostles him again towards you.

“Sir, won’t you please purchase me?” you smile sweetly, softly.

“I -” he starts.

“He would love to!” a new voice injects. His enthusiastic friend with blonde highlights smiles wolfishly.

“Welcome, please come in.”

You escort him to a room upstairs as the rain pours outside. When he cautiously enters your room, it is nothing like you are used to. He stands there awkwardly and runs a hand through his long locks.

“Would you like to sit? Perhaps a drink first?” you politely ask as you pat to the spot next to you.

It catches you by surprise when you can see the grays in his eyes as he looks at you instead of past you. He sits gruffly beside you and starts promptly, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You tilt your head, not really sure how to naturally proceed from here. But you've merely learned to comply, to satisfy, so you nod affirmatively and agree politely.

“In that case, what would you like to do?” you ask softly.

In a night meant for lovers between the sheets, he tells you stories of his adventures under the moonlight. You learn his name is Baji Keisuke, and he’s a samurai serving his childhood friend and the young lord of the Sano family. The one who ushered him here is one of his dearest friends named Kazutora, and they’ve been together since they were little. He loves feeling the adrenaline in his blood when he fights and often feeds stray cats because he thinks they’re cute. He unintentionally made his mom cry once when he was younger, so he swears he will never make her cry again.

He has dazzling eyes that tell no lies and an enigmatical smile that illuminates your heart, especially when he flashes his sharp canines that strikingly resemble fangs in his boisterous mirth. Outside, the continuous rain slows to a drizzle before it promptly stops. In your heart, he ignites a small spark of attainable hope.

A free spirit that contrasts very deeply against your very being. Unlike a trapped bird, he flies through the unclouded skies and undoubtedly makes life his own. His hearty laugh and vibrant eyes gently remind you what it's like to have hope beyond these four walls, to dream of a life of consuming love. You smile softly as he makes wild gestures with his hands, and you feel every insistent beat of your heart fluttering, thundering as he smiles affectionately at you.

Over and over again, he returns and buys your time instead of your used body. Time and time again, he talks naturally to you like you are someone in this world and listens to you like you are still good enough to be heard. Like the sun that melts away the darkness in your heart, your days spark a little brighter when he’s nearby. Instead of staring bitterly at your reflection as you paint your lips, the girlish dream you abandoned returns back to you.

Love whispers in your ears and knocks on your heart.

"Will you return?" you ask softly into the luminous night when he visits again. Once, twice, countless times to where you think you know him enough to remember what it’s like to love again.

As soon as the night ends, he has to leave. He will soar into the skies beyond the scope of your vision, beyond realms of the world you can only dream of because he's meant for something grander.

Still, you yearn.

"Where else would I go?" he answers as his eyes meet yours.

He clasps his rough hand around yours, eyes earnest and heart genuine, as he brushes against your knuckles tenderly. A hand full of calluses and blood, a hand used to wield swords and destructive weapons, but he cradles your hand so gently, tenderly, fondly.

"I will always come back to you."

You breathe out a quivering breath. You’ve heard these careless words countless times before from many other men, but his affectionate eyes are constantly full of genuine promises and unmistakable sincerity. You know Yoshiwara is the land of foolish dreams and lies, that Yoshiwara is unmeant for lovers.

Yoshiwara is not meant for the undeniable truth that you are irrevocably in love with him.

Still, you hope. You want to believe him, so you trust. You trust him with your vulnerability; you trust him with your heart. Under the veil of the night with the moon as your sole witness, you cut off a strand of your hair.

"For safe-keeping," you tell him as you tie your hair around his pinky, "Until you safely return."

He blinks once, twice before he smiles radiantly, fangs glinting in the light. He tugs a strand of his hair out before he clumsily wraps it around your pinky.

“There is something important I have to take care of,” he starts hesitantly. His eyes are looking into the darkness of the night, and for a moment, you can see weariness cloud his eyes. You reach to cradle his cheek, and at your touch, he looks at you. He holds your hand and presses a soft kiss on your fingertips. Newly found resolve beams through the clouds of doubt in his eyes. “But after that… Will you come with me?”

You stare incredulity at him, wide eyes carefully looking into his promising ones. He squeezes your hand as he stares anxiously back at you. The world is silent, and all you see is his gray eyes that have been your silver lining since the very first day.

He can’t afford to buy you, you know, and the fear of the consequences of running away burrows into your heart. But he looks at you, clear and open, and Heaven is in his eyes. You squeeze his hand back and bring it towards your lips to place a tender kiss on his palm. You think you’re far too ruined to be this optimistic about it, to dream of happiness like this, but you grin and nod anyway.

“I would go anywhere if it’s with you,” you smile, eyes and words honest.

He instantly breaks into an infectious grin, and he hugs you in eager excitement. “Thank you. I’ll be back by the next full moon. Wait for me,” he whispers fiercely into your hair.

You nod again as you melt into his comforting embrace. The flutters of your heart bloom into warmth in your chest, and it feeds into your heating cheeks as you hold on to him. The moon that invariably seems to look down on you, the stars that always seem to twinkle in critical disappointment softens as the lights of dawn overtake the sky.

A new day, a new hope.

He holds his pinky up, your hair tied on and your heart in the palm of his hands, as he looks at you. When you meet his eyes, the first rays of light glows behind him. He looks beautiful, angelic, and he seems so ephemeral. You hook your pinky, with his hair tied around it, with his in hopes that these fleeting moments will last just a moment longer, that this will be more than just a dream when you wake up.

A lie, a promise, you’re not quite sure which it is.

(You hope it’s a promise. You want it to be a promise.)

So, you wait. Day after day, night after night, and all the moments in between. You miss him like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky, but he fuels a fire in your heart that keeps you warm on the nights he isn’t here. It hasn’t rained for a long time now, you think, as you glance at your pinky and sunshine fill your soul. During nights, you keep your promise close to your heart as you stare at the phases of the moon. Waxing and waning, but your heart holds steady as you dream of boisterous laughter and lively eyes.

On the day of the full moon, you wait anxiously as people pass by. You’re on high alert as your eyes eagerly scan the crowd for any signs of him - his navy blue kimono, his long hair, his hearty laughter. As the blue sky turns to brilliant orange before it fades into the darkness of the night, the crushing weight in your heart grows heavier and heavier before the numbing realization that he won’t come hits you.

When the full moon peaks in the unclouded sky, only silence surrounds you. You sit lifelessly in front of your mirror at the end of the night with the full moon as your sole company. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting here as you mindlessly keep brushing your hair.

The overbearing heaviness finally breaks your heart and breaches the dam that restrains your tears. You muffle your cries in your kimono because you should have known better, should have known that dreams are unmeant for someone like you. You glance wistfully at your pinky before you clutch it close to your shattered heart, and all the energy in your body just comes out as silent sobs. As you bury your face in your knees and hug yourself, each fond memory comes back and replays in your head.

A mistake. This is a terrible mistake because you know Yoshiwara is built of lies like these. But when you think of his sincere eyes, your heart breaks again. Baji Keisuke is many things, but he is rarely a liar. You want to believe in him, want to believe in the dream of a life with him beyond these walls.

Maybe it’s not this full moon, you tell yourself, but he will return one day. The next full moon, the one after that, and all these other ones after, you’ll keep waiting. You believe in him, believe in love, so you will hold on steadfastly, stubbornly, desperately because you don’t think your heart can handle it otherwise. 

In just another day of waiting in the similar scenery, you catch glimpses of a spark from the temple northwards. A new sight, but among the lively streets of just another busy day, it’s not a sight you focus on. The sparks are nice, though, you think as you suppress a giggle, because it reminds you of the fire in his eyes.

When it reaches dusk, the scorching winds blow from the northeast. The direction you watch him go from the confines of your birdcage, and when you still see the sparks, a foreboding feeling, a bad omen sinks into your heart as the sun falls.

The initial flare grows bigger and bigger until it bursts into a firestorm and begins swallowing the town. You run frantically alongside the chaotic crowd as the screams fill the air and fear fills your blood. You run, run, run until your legs are burning - from the fire? From fatigue? You’re not sure.

Your heart breaks with every step you take because death comes knocking. You keep holding on stubbornly because you still believe in your promise. But soon, your legs only carry you so far amongst the fleeting crowd and falling buildings and smoke fills your lungs and chokes you.

As fire devours you, you glance at the waxing moon. It ruthlessly tears through your skin and burns, burns, burns, but the pain of breaking your promise rips through your heart.

All you can think about are the moonlit nights under the same skies within the four walls you call home and the man you know as love. You think of his starry gray eyes and the promise you couldn’t keep, and you clutch your hand over your heart. Close, so, so close, but not quite another full moon yet. With sorry repeated on your cracked lips and lament in your anguished heart, your uncontrollable tears fall hopelessly.

(The news of the tragic death of a singular samurai, holding his bleeding hand to his heart, in the Battle of Valhalla never reaches you.

After all, fire travels faster than words.)

The deafening sound of crackling fire plays your requiem and ends the unfulfilled dream of love.

end notes: harimise is a viewing cage where courtesans were placed in, like products on display at shops. they sit there the whole day until someone buys them.

the act of cutting off your hair and tying it around someone's pinky is a lover's pact. basically, it's a vow of love between a courtesan and their customers, where they offer their hair, nails, and blood to seal the deal. it could be used to extort more money from the customer, but it could also just be a promise of love.

also fun fact: historically, yoshiwara did end up burning in a huge fire that originated in a temple! :")

[jqupohtia]

Edit in 2023: This post is now out of date, I have reworked some stuff with timelines, things I forgot would affect things, etc. Will be making a fresh post for this soon.

And now it’s time for my thoughts on J’qupoh/G’raha. Mostly under a cut because it ended up LONGER than the rest of the Scions combined.

J’qupoh’s first thought on actually meeting G’raha Tia was “what a try-hard little brat.” He was not impressed with the run around he was given with the aethersand, nor the dramatic entrance. But he pranked the little shit later and called it even.

For a week G’raha dealt with little things like quills or his aetherometer going missing only for people to insist they were right in front of him. No matter how many times he would reach for the spot they pointed to nothing would be there. Or his gear would be temporarily dyed eye searing colors that apparently only he could see. (Conjury may be what J’qupoh is most known for, but illusions were the first magic he learned and excelled at.)

Nothing was permanent or would interfere with something's function of course, because J’qupoh’s not a complete asshole.

After that they started to get along, between J’qupoh genuinely finding G’raha’s knowledge and ramblings about the Allagans interesting and G’raha being an enthusiastic audience for J’qupoh’s stories of his adventures and the things he’d witnessed with the Echo, especially when punctuated by little illusory images when J’qupoh had a hard time describing something and preferred to just try to show it. They spent a lot of the downtime during the expedition together, at least what J’qupoh could spare. Square’s timeline is kind of funky (you really want me to believe Alphinaud only had the Crystal Braves active for a couple weeks at most?????), but it feels like the expedition would have occurred over a few months? So time enough to become fairly good friends, and leave J’qupoh checking in with the Sons frequently in case of any changes with the tower after it’s sealed.

Attraction started with the Exarch though he had suspicions it was actually G’raha under the hood. At least once he got over being mad about the Scion Snatching. The calm confidence and air of authority got to him, but also the little moments of care: ensuring J’qupoh had a meal waiting for him in his room, personally checking in with him to see how he was. Always making a point that he was asking and not ordering an

The sandwiches and tea being the start of him realizing it. Then he began using his downtime to check in with the Exarch, especially on learning that the man went huge stretches of time without rest. He’d return the favor and bring him meals, taking advantage of the guard being instructed to always let the Exarch’s most recent guest pass. He needled Lyna for her grandfather’s favorites so he could find something he can actually make or obtain. He asked the Exarch for stories about establishing the Crystarium, and fell for the love and pride he could hear when the Exarch spoke about his people and how far they’d come. And there was the occasional bit of flirting, wherein J’qupoh would come in confident and then completely lose his shit anytime it was reciprocated.

And of course came the reveal, and he was...a little conflicted. He suspected the whole time it was G’raha, but getting the confirmation and then the details of just how far this man went to save not only their future but him specifically as well? G’raha referring to him as his inspiration? He wasn’t sure he could possibly measure up to whatever G’raha saw him as, especially every time he made a comment along the lines of wondering if he’ll be worth mentioning in the Warrior’s story. J’qupoh wanted to shake him and tell him that he’d feel lucky to be included in G’raha’s story. Fighting some light wardens and almost dying didn’t feel comparable to the literal centuries G’raha sacrificed and the planned suicidal sacrifice after so they’d all live.

Though J’qupoh did make a point of spending as much time as possible with him, trying to catch up with him as G’raha rather than the Exarch and to try to keep him from working himself to death.. At least up until G’raha once again awoke within the Tower, but this time to an incredibly relieved Warrior who was just waiting for the excuse to sweep him off his feet and carry him back to the Rising Stones. Or at least down to the chocobo waiting at the base of tower, sorry Raha but even you will seem heavy after a while and he might have been getting a little carried away back there. Yes his arms are killing him, no you’re not allowed to make fun of him.

By the end of Endwalker I think they’ve worked through that (at least with G’raha seeming to get out of that hero worship/ “I just want to be part of your story” mindset) but they were still dancing around actually being in a relationship. At least until the incredibly cheesy Valentione’s Day confession

[yslkook]

sonder

pairing: taehyung x reader (exes au) summary: sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. or

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

word count: 3459 warnings: alcohol, smut (penetrative sex, oral f receiving, tae is possessive for like half a second, some tears) a/n: inspired by these pictures of taehyung. also if this feels rushed, that was on purpose- i wanted to make them kinda messy 

Your second whiskey of the evening burns something bitter in the back of your throat, but you welcome it. It’s a welcome respite from the shitty week you’ve had, but that’s besides the point.

One of your favorite things to do to unwind after a tough week is to people watch, and one of your favorite places to do so was at the bars near your apartment. You liked to create vivid stories for these people that walked through the bar- who they were, what their backstories were. It was an amusing game to you, and even if both Yoongi and Hobi told you that you needed a better hobby, you’d only scoff at them.

Speaking of, Yoongi was supposed to be joining you soon. But apparently he’s running late. About fifteen minutes late, according to his cryptic text from earlier:

yoongi: running late, im bringing a friend

You think nothing of it, not really. And you just sip on your whiskey, watching a pair of new faces walk through the door from your stealthy booth in the corner of the bar.

You should’ve known that when Yoongi had said he was bringing a friend, it meant Taehyung. You briefly remember Yoongi telling you that Taehyung had moved back to the city a few weeks ago.

Taehyung, who had moved away halfway across the world years ago as a novice in the art history world. Taehyung, who had broken your delicate heart and taken pieces of it with him more than five years ago.

But even so, you harbor no ill feelings towards the man. He did what he had to do, and you did as well. It’s been so long now, that he should almost be a stranger to you. 

Yoongi watches the way your lips part in surprise at the sight of Taehyung- he knows there are still lingering feelings, maybe a lack of closure. Maybe something else that you don’t feel like discussing or diving into. You send him a hearty death glare his way but Yoongi ignores it.

You and Taehyung are nothing if not stubborn. Taehyung hasn’t stopped asking about you since he moved back to the city.

After all, you’ve hardly dated since Taehyung broke up with you. You had sincerely, genuinely believed that he was your one and only, your forever. It just hadn’t felt right, not with anyone else. So you just stopped, not wanting to force love with people if your heart really wasn’t in it.

And now, Taehyung is standing in front of you, dressed in expensive black from head to toe, looking as if he had just walked off of the runway before meeting up with Yoongi. His hair is longer than you ever remembered it being, two small silver hoops in his ears.

Handsome. He looks healthy and warm. He looks good.

You clear your throat and wave at both of them, opening your arms for a hug. Yoongi’s hug is brief, you see the man at least once or twice a week, but you pinch his waist for ambushing you like this. You gasp softly when Taehyung wraps his arms around you. You’d apparently forgotten how his body just fits into yours. Even after all this time.

It truly hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes into your hair. You should pull away, you really should. You can’t even meet Yoongi’s eyes, too bewitched by the hold that Taehyung somehow still has on you. 

You feel as though your heart is running a mile a minute, and yet it feels like you’re greeting an old friend after a long time. 

“Taehyung,” You say softly, his name sounding like a ghost of a memory, “It’s been a long time.”

You sit in your booth and Taehyung sits next to Yoongi. It feels like three old friends catching up after a while, not like if two exes are sitting with their mutual best friend trying not to catch glimpses of the other.

You take a sip of your drink with shaky hands. It’s going to be a long night.

At some point during the evening, Yoongi claims that Hoseok has an emergency and that he has to go. You think he planned this (both him and Hobi), because there’s a meddling glint in his eye that you haven’t seen recently.

You panic, scrambling to somehow get Yoongi to stay, so that you’re not alone with Taehyung. You’re afraid of what you might do or say. Or for what you might not do or say.

And yet, talking to him comes like second nature. Maybe it’s because you have years of history between the both of you, even if you haven’t spoken in the last five.

It hurt so much. When he broke up with you, you mourned the loss of your best friend. He had said you could try to be friends, but you couldn’t handle it at the time. And then more time went by… and suddenly, he was barely a thought in your passing mind. Yet, he still lingered, in your mannerisms. Maybe some part of you was still waiting on him. Which wasn’t healthy… But it wasn’t hurting anyone. And besides, you were okay. But you had never really believed in soulmates until Taehyung. Perhaps it was the lack of closure. 

At least that’s what you convinced yourself, because seeing Taehyung like this, laughing and talking to you as if no time has past throws you for a loop.

Mainly because… it’s so easy to fall into conversation with him. It’s so easy to laugh with him and make him laugh. You enjoy learning about everything he’s been up to over the last few years, all of his adventures, the sights he’s seen. How enthusiastic he is, how he finds beauty in everything.

You both had always been such good friends. Maybe that’s what you miss more than anything. Somehow, hours go by and you both are left to be the only ones in the bar-

“Hey what brought you here to begin with?” Taehyung asks, holding the door open for you, “Had a bad day? You still like people watching?”

“Yeah,” You say wistfully, “Something like that.”

He squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. You catch his eyes in the streetlights and feel your heart swell.

Even if it’s been more than five years since you saw Taehyung last, since you felt his fingers thread in between yours… it still feels so familiar. It’s funny, isn’t it? How so much time can go by, how you can be strangers on paper but feel like you’ve known his soul for this entire time.

His smile glows in the moonlight. A light breeze cradles him, carding through his dark strands of hair gently. You can vividly recall a time when it was you- your fingers running through his hair through soft laughs and unkept promises.

You wonder if your heart is still his, after all this time. It’s not as if you’ve had many people to compare your all-consuming five year relationship to in the last few years. Every person you met, you found yourself comparing to your ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t healthy.

And you had known that he had moved on from your own mutual friends. You don’t even know if he’s single right now, but you knew he was in a relationship a year ago… Or maybe two? Maybe you should care a little more, but you’ll blame it on the whiskey for causing you to squeeze his hand a little harder and lean into him.

Taehyung looks exactly the same, he feels exactly the same as he did when you were twenty-two and stupid enough to believe that you would make it. He’s always felt like he fit the messy edges of your soul perfectly, and even now, you feel that familiar warmth of his soul rubbing up against yours.

Even as he’s chatting away, eyes crinkling in genuine happiness, you’re hardly listening. You’re only thinking about how nice he feels next to you. 

Serendipity. It must be serendipity, for him to show up in your life again when you had been teetering on the edge of misery and self-deprecation. Your head is jumbled, brain filled with nothing but sweet memories of him and your heart is aching for something you might never have again.

But all you have is now. So when Taehyung twirls you easily and sways with you under the dimmed light of a street lamp, pulling a surprised laugh out of you, you make your decision.

“Where’s your new big girl apartment?” Taehyung asks, a hint of longing in his tone.

“It’s not new,” You scoff, “But I live, like, five blocks away.”

Taehyung takes your hand in his again, asking you questions about your apartment. How you found it, do you like it, do you have roommates. To which you shrug and tell him that you like being alone. Something shifts in his eyes, something sad. He recalls your thirst for life when you both had been together- always ready to try something new, always wanting to be around people, always dreaming with your head in the sky.

He wonders what changed. You’re so quiet, eyes a little dark, shoulders tense. Maybe that’s what growing up is. Maybe that’s what tumbling out of your early twenties and into your late twenties is.

Or maybe you’ve just changed in general. It’s been a long time, after all. Since you both mutually broke up, since he moved halfway across the globe. 

But still, he catches sparks, flutters of embers in your gaze. He catches the tender, playful excitement that you’ve always held near and dear to your heart- it’s what made you and him such a good team years ago.

Talking to him is so easy, not that you thought it would be difficult to begin with. It’s always been easy with him, easy to laugh with him, easy to love him. 

The front door of your apartment building comes into view. Your hand is still in his. Taehyung hesitates on letting you go, but he does.

“It was nice to see you,” Taehyung murmurs, allowing himself the brush of the back of his hand on your cheekbone, “I mean it.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I ran into you, too. Even if I was stuffing my face with whiskeys,” You grin and lean into his touch, “Even if Yoongi probably played both of us.”

“Don’t know when you became such a whiskey girl.”

“It’s been years, Taehyung. I’m sure I’ve got a few more surprises for you,” You say, smile falling into something more intense, “Wanna come find out what they are?”

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

Taehyung’s lips are on yours the minute you close the door to your apartment. His hands are molded to your hips over your clothes and you instantly moan into his mouth loudly, slipping your tongue past his lips eagerly. Drinking him up as if he’s been yours to drink up this entire time.

You fumble with the buttons of his peacoat, nearly ready to yank the buttons off. Patience has never been your strong suit, but you just want to feel him. 

But the minute you pull away for air, you re-center yourself. No matter how enticing his bitten lips are…

“Are you single?” You ask bluntly.

“Why?” Taehyung says with an arch of his stupidly perfect eyebrow, “You falling in love with me again?”

“Shut up, you wish. I thought you had a girlfriend,” You say pointedly, toeing out of your heels and hanging your jackets up in the coat closet.

“You keeping tabs on me? I knew it,” Taehyung says, looking a little too smug about it.

“Shut the fuck up,” You swat his chest, “Yoongi may have mentioned it to me once or twice.”

More like he told you multiple times when you were drunk, wasted and crying over Taehyung because you never truly got over him. In some corner of the deepest part of your heart, you never got over him.

“I’m not dating anyone. Or talking, seeing anyone,” Taehyung shrugs, “That didn’t work out. Nothing’s really worked out, not since…”

“Don’t say it,” You mutter, “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

You need another drink. So you pour yourself another hefty glass of whiskey and pour one out for him, too.

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

“And if it’s true?”

“Then I’m definitely kicking you out. Might need another five years to see you again,” You whisper. He moves closer to you, tentatively holding your hips in his. You don’t push him away, only looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes into your hair, wrapping you in a hug, “You have no idea. And you? Are you single?”

“No, you missed the idea of me. Of us,” You mumble, but you’re unable to pull out of his hold, “We were young, we had dreams… And yeah, I’m single.”

“We could’ve made it work-”

“Taehyung, stop it,” You mutter, throat going dry with barely concealed yearning for him, “We both made the choices we made for a reason. You’re here and I’m here for a reason. Don’t wanna talk about what if’s with you anymore. Just kiss me, Taehyung-”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, cupping your face in his big hands and pressing his soft lips to yours instantly. Time feels like nothing between you both, but it feels like he’s trying to learn this new version of you through your kiss. 

You’re undecided on whether this is a one time thing, but all you know is that you want him. And you want him now. His hands are warm over your thighs as he lifts you up in his arms, your chest plastered to his. His hair has gotten longer, dark strands effortlessly falling into his forehead.

He’s so handsome and you swoon when his lips press against your neck. Taehyung still remembers what you like, what your favorite spots are.

It’s almost as if no time has passed. You both ignore it, ignore the nostalgia creeping into the crevices of your kisses.

“Mmm, my bedroom’s that way,” You mumble hoarsely, pulling away with hooded eyes. 

“You’ll have to give me a proper tour later,” Taehyung says, his voice somehow even deeper.

“Yeah, you’d be so lucky,” You snort and Taehyung shuts you up with another searing kiss. He doesn’t miss the meticulous way you’ve decorated your cozy home, pops of color and decorations that are so very you in every corner. He sees a small photo collage in the corner of your bedroom. 

Once upon a time, a photo of you and him would’ve been the crown jewel.

“Tae,” You mumble, “Stop, focus on me. I want you-”

So he does.

Your legs close around Taehyung’s head, his tongue slipping into your glossy folds for the third time that evening. He can’t get enough of your soft noises, even when you’re telling him it’s too much, you widen your legs for him to slot in between them easily. Taehyung hikes your legs over his shoulder, nearly rutting into the bed at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and the way your tits bounce.

He palms you lewdly, squeezing and pinching.  “You’re so wet,” Taehyung moans into your pussy, “Fuck, baby-”

“Taehyung,” You breathe, voice sounding broken even to your own ears, “I want you, I want your cock…”

“You sure you want this?” Taehyung asks, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Do you?” 

With a nod, “Do you have condoms?” He rasps, nose nudging your clit.

“Y-yeah,” You moan, “The nightstand, first drawer. Brand new box, never before used-”

“Really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “When was the last time, baby?”

“The last time what,” You whine, tugging on his forearm.

“Last time you had sex,” Taehyung says, pulling the box out from your nightstand. 

“Uhhh… when you broke up with me?” You shrug sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Shit,” He groans, “Seriously?”

You don’t miss how he palms himself over his pants at your words. He’s always had a hint of possessiveness in him, and you already know that he’s trying to process that the last person, the only person to have ever seen you like this was him.

“Yeah, I didn’t have luck the way you did, I guess,” You say lightly, “Not that I was trying very hard, though.”

“Damn, baby, nobody’s been loving you right, huh?” Taehyung says, pulling out a condom from the box with shaky hands.

“Yeah. Not even you,” You say. Maybe that was mean, but his eyes flash at you in warning.

“Come here,” He says, a soft demand, “Did you miss me?”

You shrug playfully and unbutton his pants for him. He swats your roaming hands away and they land on his belly, your nails scratching lazily. Taehyung has always looked like a vision, but seeing him like this, hovering above you with golden, tanned skin and his jaw locked, looking every bit like the man of your dreams...

He commands, demands respect. Your pussy throbs just from the sight of him shucking off his pants and his boxers in one go, tugging his hard and heavy cock roughly with one hand.

You swear you drool. Your head is empty, only thoughts of him, his big hands, broad shoulders-

“Did you miss me, baby,” Taehyung asks again, voice a little rougher, a little harsher.

“Does it matter,” You challenge him, “You only want my pussy-”

“And you only want my cock-”

“So give it to me then. Since you know me so well,” You sneer. You gasp in surprise when he swats your thigh and then moan his name when he pushes the head of his cock into you without much warning.

“You talk so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes, cupping your cheeks with one hand.

“Shit,” You gasp, “You’re so fucking big-”

You squeeze your eyes shut and Taehyung stills inside of you, giving you time to adjust to him. He peppers sweet kisses over your forehead, a contrast to his previous words. You cannot believe that somehow, Taehyung is back in your bed, his cock buried deep within you. 

The thought makes your eyes water. You’re a little overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong,” Taehyung asks when he sees your wet eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nothing, you’re just so big,” You mumble, avoiding his eyes. Taehyung looks at you suspiciously but says nothing.

He’s the only one who’s ever had you like this. The thought makes something in his belly flare, the urge to leave bruises on your welcoming hips and pound into your wet pussy growing and growing with each second.

But he doesn’t move, not until you give him the okay. Taehyung’s fingers are tight around your hips, loose around your neck, his lips plastered to any inch of skin he can reach. With the first rock of his hips into you, you wrap your legs around his waist and shudder in his arms.

He nuzzles your neck, chest plastered against yours. Your nails are tightly pressed into his biceps, surely leaving marks for tomorrow morning. Your soft cries of his name sound like sweet rapture, something he’s been searching for for years. Or something that he had and something he let go of.

And then he wonders how he ever spent the last few years not buried in your pussy, when you feel something like home to him.

“You know, I moved back here a few weeks ago,” Taehyung says, turning on his side to face you, hands gentle over your chest.

“Oh, I know. Yoongi and Hobi wouldn’t shut up about it. They really missed you,” You reply, not meeting his eyes.

“And you? Did you?” Taehyung asks again. You hesitate.

“Does it matter, Taehyung?” You mumble, brushing his hair away from his eyes, “Does it change anything?”

“It could. If you wanted it to,” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest. His fingers are light over your spine, but you scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that,” You sigh, pressing your hand to his face. 

He only laughs with his big, bright smile and pulls you in closer, kissing your forehead. “I can leave you know. If you want me to. If this is... weird.”

“I think we’re way past weird, Taehyung. If I wanted you to leave, I would’ve kicked you out by now,” You say easily and ignore the way his smile sends unfamiliar butterflies through your belly, “Go to sleep. I’ll decide if I wanna kick you out in the morning.”

[troublesometrollhunters]

Being Adopted by the Order

~ Growing up in the Order was interesting. You were a new Polymorph Changeling discovered later in life after an accident happened with the paperwork and placement. You slipped through the cracks and sadly you had no idea what you were until recently.

~ Joining the Order as a teen, Strickler was your designated mentor since you lived in Arcadia and went to his highschool. He was to catch you up on everything you'd missed and help with any of your issues. Nomura and Otto part of Stricklers teams were higher ups you were to report too if Stricklander was busy. You weren't supposed too work yet and they were just there to answer your questions and prepare you for life later on.

~ Changelings by nature are protective of their young and you being younger than them it took a lot of self control not to baby you. That self control was gone by your first week in the Order. It seemed you'd been adopted by the group.

~ Father or Dad Strickler, Papa/Uncle Otto, and Wine Aunt Nomura. It was strange at first but it quickly became normal and you enjoyed being spoiled by the three.

~ When you began "working" at the Order your jobs were kept small and controlled. The Changelings want to keep your information filtered and protected. It's mostly just mild paperwork and learning how all the machines work.

~ They were quiet about the darker parts of the Order doing their best to slowly ease you into it. You may be older but you aren't old enough to know the full truth yet or anything about Gunmars coming. As much as Otto wants to tell you hoping you'll become a Gunmar enthusiast like him Nomura and Strickler persuade him to keep it a secret a little longer.

~ Strickler is in charge of your indoctrination into the Order and adjusting you to living a double life. He also handles a lot of your emotional needs and is a therapist as well as a mentor. Nomura is responsible for your more physical needs. She handles training and controlling your troll side. As a changeling you must know how to fight, people out there will try and hurt you, she wants you prepared for when they can't help you. Otto handles a lot of the paperwork and contacts for the Order but he helps you with your polymorph abilities as they're rare and he's one of the most successful ploymorphs. He teaches you to shift and how much you can shift before it hurts you.

~ The museum, the school, and the Orders office become like second homes. Your parents are informed you have an internship for school, a small job at a travel agency, and volunteer work at the museum. Slowly your distanced from your human family but you dont even notice as you feel so comfortable with your changeling one.

~ Otto is the most affectionate with you. He gives you hugs whenever he sees you and praises you. He brags about you whenever he can and keeps a picture of you in his wallet. Him and Strickler are constantly fighting over the best dad slot in your life. Strickler is the second most affectionate, giving you small displays of affection to show he cares. A shoulder squeeze, saying he's proud. Small but meaningful actions. Meanwhile Nomura really only touches you when your fighting. She cares deeply about you but being a changeling she's dealt with a lot of loss. Her affection is through advice and actions. She doenst often speak her emotions but when she does it's very genuine and you are assured she loves you.

~ Strickler spends a lot of time with you in his office. He rearranged your schedule so you have a free peroid and he uses this time to tell you about your heritage. He takes artifacts off his shelves and tells you ancient stories about changelings and trolls. You learn changeling and trollish from him and he enjoys telling you about your history.

~ He's traveled the world and seen a little of everything. There's always a little more to learn but he chooses to teach what he knows instead. Strickler informs you about everything involving history and cultures and tribes. He tells you stories of his adventures and he hopes someday he'll be able to take you on one. Missions aren't always fun but he must admit traveling was always a plus.

~ Otto isn't allowed to talk about Gunmar but there are other things to discuss. You mostly bond over being polymorphs and get closer as you work together. He helps with paperwork and shows you the less dangerous side of the Order. He hopes one day you can join him and be a spy but for now your doing fine at work and he couldn't be more proud.

~ Ottos constantly buying you sweets and cakes. Feeding you and making sure you know your cared for. In Germany everyone offers food to their loved ones and your not aloud to say no, so for Otto you not eating the food he brings is the greatest offense. You learn very quickly not to fight him and just let him love you.

~ You spend long hours at the museum with Nomura or by yourself. Your either learning about your Changeling side or Changeling culture or wandering around looking at the exhibits. Nomura explains many artifacts show that changelings have existed forever simply hiding in plain sight. She enjoys giving you the tour and telling you all about the secret side of history. Often her and Strickler will bicker about it but she swears she knows better than him.

~ She's very strict about her job but every now and then she'll let you touch something that your not supposed too. She's also let you design exhibits to showcase work and has shared her love of pottery with you. She has a little studio so if you ever feel stressed or upset it's there for you. Sometimes when your angry Nomura will sit and pound clay with you helping you get your emotions out. She warns you while sculpting you are safe but there are others who would take your moments of weakness and use them against you. She doesn't elaborate but the Order is starting to show it's true colors the longer your there.

~ They each have something they like doing with you. Nomura does pottery or art projects, occasionally taking you to new art galleries or shows. Strickler enjoys reading with you or going on short trips. He shows you secret places or overlooked stores that have hidden treasures. And Otto loves taking you to restaurants or the movies. They all spoil you with affection and enjoy doing activities with you.

~ Bular becomes a problem a couple months into your shift to changeling life. With you spending time in the museum and Killahead being formed it is not a surprise when you finally meet him. He's going to eat you but you get so scared you change into your troll form and attack him. Bular has never seen you before and is so surprised you get a couple hits in like Nomura taught you.

~ Strickler and Nomura thankfully come to your defense before too much damage can be done. However, with Bular now knowing of your existence things get more compliacted. More of the Order is revealed to you and continuing to hide what they've lied about is hard.

~ The group does whatever it takes to keep you away from Bular but it seems the troll has gained a crush. Otto sees this as amazing. Imagine their baby courting and marrying the Prince of Darkness. A changeling as consort of the GumGums. You'd be a ruler. Strickler considers it but Nomura does not like the idea.

~ As Bular begins to try and court you, you begin to discover more about the Order. The Changelings begin giving you space and more freedoms allowing you too see what the Order truly is. It's up to you to decide on what to do next. But the changelings do assure you they love you and whatever you decide they'll support.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars) Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader: Here to Stay a Little Longer

Author’s Note: In this fic, reader is a jedi who volunteers to care for an educate younglings in the order. Just wanted to say I know a few teachers and caretakers, and I just wanted to say the amount of respect I have for people who dedicate their time to little ones whether it be for a job or because their your own little ones!

    “Good work today.” 

    There was no stopping the affectionate smile that bloomed on your face as the youngling chirped in response to your affirmation.  You could sense his happiness at the lesson being over for the day.  He wanted to take a nap.

   “Me too, Grogu,” you sighed.  “Me too.”  He waddled over to you, and you lifted him into your arms.  Another jedi would be coming to take him back to the nursery for rest. 

   “___________?” a voice asked.

   “Hm?” you turned to see an elderly female jedi at the doorway to the training room.  “Oh, jedi Lilanou.  You are here to take Grogu back to his quarters?”

   “Yes, indeed,” she said with a smile, outstretching her hands.  They were weathered but ever so gentle as you transferred the tired baby to them.  He waved at you, and you laughed and waved back.  “Grogu will see you later this week for another training session.”

   “I will be expecting him.”  You nodded.  Grogu wasn’t quite like the other younglings.  He was more developed mentally for one so small, and he was much older than the others.  This meant he started training, but only a little since he was still a baby.  As Lilanou carried him away, you felt sadness creep its way into your feelings.  No doubt your attachment to the young one went beyond what it should.  You felt that way about most of the younglings you volunteered to look after and train before they became padawans and were assigned to mentors.  It was hard to let go when that time came, but the need for jedi to step up and help the next generation of younglings drew you in again and again.

   With the absence of Grogu, your afternoon was free.  The rumble in your stomach told you it was time for a meal.  You released a sigh and stepped out of the empty room into the vast halls.  Jedi walked to and fro, some in pairs while others had their noses in datapads.

   The sound of children’s laughter weighed your steps until you stopped altogether.  It was a collective laugh as if it was one shared by an entire class.  You started back on your way again before it rang out once more.  It was indeed a class that occupied one of the nearest training rooms, and from where you stood outside the doorway, you could hear Yoda’s voice instructing.

   “I’ll just stop in for a minute,” you said, grinning.  “Lunch can wait.”  As you approached, Yoda paused the lesson to meet your gaze.  As he greeted you, the younglings that were all seated in a semi-circle turned their heads to look in your direction.  Their faces lit up in recognition.

   “Ah, _________, how nice it is to see you,” Yoda said.  “Younglings, say ‘hello.’”

   “Hello!” they chorused.

   “Hello everyone!” you gave a nod of greeting before turning your gaze back to Yoda.  “I was just wondering if I could sit in on class today?  And maybe help if you need any assistance?”  It felt like a silly question to ask.  He was Yoda.  He’d been training many generations of younglings since long before you were born.  Nonetheless, his features softened as he motioned with his hand for you to enter.

   “Needing a lesson to refresh your memory, are you?” he joked in a good-natured way.  You chuckled as you took a seat on the far right of the semi-circle.

   “Something like that.”

   “Good, your timing is.”  He nodded.  “Discussing the process of constructing lightsabers, we are.  Perhaps, share with the class your experience, you could.”

   “That’s right,” you mused.  “Many of you are nearing that time.  Oh, yes Ganodi?”

   The Rodian girl lowered her hand, galaxy eyes averted shyly for a moment.  “Was it hard to build your lightsaber?”

   “It was a challenge,” you admitted.  “But it wasn’t meant to be easy.”  When you noticed her nervous expression, you added, “I’m sure you will do well.”

   “I’m excited to build mine!”  Petro exclaimed.  “I can’t wait!”

   “All in good time,” Yoda told the enthusiastic youngling.  “Anyway, back to our lesson, we should get....”

- - - - - - 

   After the class had been dismissed by Yoda, some of the younglings stuck around to talk.  Yoda walked over to you.  “Thank you for your help today.  Warms my heart, it does, to see your compassion and willingness to nurture the next generation of jedi.”

   You smiled.  “It warms my heart to see them so eager to learn.”

   After he left, you found yourself in the middle of a game of tag with the younglings in the classroom.  Katooni was “it”, and the rest of the group scattered.  She was fast for a youngling!  You raced past Byph, and he got tagged instead.

   “Sorry, Byph!”

   You were so captivated by the game that you hadn’t noticed a new presence.  “I thought I’d find you here.”  You skidded to a stop, looking over to see Obi-Wan Kenobi standing at the doorway.  Your heart did flips at the sight of that smirk of his while he stood there with his arms folded across his chest.  He had left on a campaign weeks before, and his return to Coruscant was a surprise to you.

   You turned to the group, who didn’t seem to notice him.  “Give me one second, guys.”  They continued to run around, and you walked over to the jedi, out of breath.  “It’s good to see you.  How are things on the front?”

   “Well, we were successful,” he replied.  That smooth voice was like music to your ears.  As you listened to him describe the gist of the mission, your mind wandered to silly little things like his velvety hair that shone in the light or his soft blue eyes or the way his lip quirked when he spoke.  It was just so nice to see him, to be able to take it in that he was there.

   “Sounds like an interesting time.”

   “Oh, no.  Not interesting in the least,” he said sarcastically, the shine of amusement in his eyes.  “How have things been here?”

   “Same as ever.”  You smiled and nodded in the direction of the younglings playing their game.  “These ones keep me occupied.  It’s not fighting Separatist battle droids, but…”

   “It’s an important duty.  I can hardly think of a more noble endeavor,” he told you, eyes looking distant and warm as the younglings’ laughter carried.  “I myself hope to dedicate more time to the cause.  I haven’t been as involved as I’d like to be.”

   “Well, we could always use the help.  Besides, you have become a sort of legend around here.”

   Obi-Wan’s brow lifted curiously.  “Is that so?”

   “It is, and you have Anakin to thank for that.  He stops by every now and then and shares a story or two about his and your adventures on the battlefield.”

   “That sounds like Anakin,” he sighed.

   “He’s an inspiration to the younglings, as are you,” you paused.  “To me as well.”

   “Obi-Wan!”

  “Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan!”

   The group began to gather around the two of you, their eyes wide with admiration and curiosity.

   “Well hello there,” he said.  “I was beginning to think I’d gone unnoticed.”

   “Where’d you go? Did you fight Grievous?” Petro’s questions poured out quickly.

   “Was Anakin there?” Zatt asked, tipping his head to one side.  “He said he was going on a mission too.”

   “Alright, alright,” you laughed.  “Let’s not overwhelm him.”

   “I’ll tell you all about the mission another time,” Obi-Wan assured them.  “For now, you might want to run.”

   “What?  Why?”

   “Because it looks like Byph is still ‘it,’ and he’s sneaking up behind you.”

   “Ahhh!”  They burst into laughter and screams as they scattered once more, leaving you and Obi-Wan chuckling.  One of the smaller younglings fell down in front of him.  He simply took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet.

   “Careful, little one.”  His warning was tender, and you watched the scene with heart thumping.  Obi-Wan was always good with younglings.  His kindly nature and humility made him quite popular. 

   He’d make a good parent, you thought.  Realizing where your mind was taking you, you shook your head.  That was hardly appropriate for one to think about a fellow jedi.  Romantic feelings were normal, but these were driving you to imagine a life with him outside the order.  You imagined a loving man with whom you could have your own children with.  The way he was gazing at you made you feel embarrassed, as if he sensed your thoughts.

   “___________?”

   “Yeah?”

   “Are you hungry?”

   You glanced down at your stomach as it gave another rumble.  Ah, right.  You skipped out on lunch to join the youngling class.  How embarrassing he heard that!  “Uh yeah, I missed lunch.”

   “I’m rather hungry myself,” he said.  “Shall we go get something together?”

   You nodded, smiling.  “We shall.”  You looked at the younglings.  “I’ll see you all soon.”

   “Okay, bye ___________!”

   “Bye Obi-Wan!”

   They headed out the door, their chatter echoing down the hall.  You walked alongside Obi-Wan on your way to get something to eat.  He was always pleasant company.  He walked with his hands folded behind his back and his gaze occasionally resting on you.  You had longed to see him again, but when the moment was finally there, you weren’t quite sure what to say.  Finally, you thought of something.

   “Did you need me for something?”

   “Pardon?”

   “You said you might find me there with the younglings,” you said.  “Does that mean you were looking for me?” 

   He opened his mouth as if he had a clever response, but his voice came out in a subtle stutter before he found the words. “I thought I’d pay you a visit since I arrived back on Coruscant.  I merely...wanted to see you.”

   “Oh, I see.”

   “Is that a problem?” The question wasn’t irritated.  His eyes searched you with genuine concern.  He had made it known that he sought you out for no reason in particular other than his enjoyment of your company, and he didn’t want this knowledge to make you uncomfortable.

   “No, no, not at all.”  You shook your head.  “I’m glad you did.  I’m pleased to see you.  It was only a few weeks, but it felt like so long.”  You went silent after that statement, unsure if you crossed a line either.  You were supposed to be a jedi free from attachment, and the last thing you wanted was Obi-Wan Kenobi to think you were needy.

   “I know exactly what you mean,” he muttered in agreement.  His eyes went to the floor in a way that suggested he had something on his mind.  The implication that he may have missed you too made you want to hide your face shyly, but you remained nonchalant.

   “When do you leave Coruscant again?”

   “Not for some time, I hope.  Like I said, I’d like to be more involved with training the next generation for a while.”  He glanced your way, eyes crinkling as he smiled.  “But my apologies, that means you’ll have to see more of me.  I know how much of a burden I am.”

   “Indeed.”  You returned the smile.  “How terrible.”

   The warmth between you two was unmistakable during the playful banter.  Part of you was thrilled that he would be around, that you wouldn’t have to say “goodbye” for a while.  The other part was worried what it might bring upon both of you.  If the two of you spent more time together with the younglings, it would do you no good as far as dismissing the attachment you had to him.  And what of the Council?  Would they take notice?

   Obi-Wan sat across from you at one of the long dining tables, and those doubts one-by-one went out the viewport.  He spoke about his mission away and then listened as you told him about some of your adventures on Coruscant.  Some involved your travels outside the jedi walls while others were about your daily struggles and victories with the little ones.  You told him of a youngling still in the nursery that ran off without their robes that you had to chase down and dress.  Fortunately the nursing droids had proper security so the youngling didn’t leave the nursery.  Obi-Wan’ laughter rang out clear as a bell as he tipped his head back at the outrageous tale.  Something fluttered in your chest as he lost himself in the humor for a moment before taking a breath and sighing.

   “Well it seems I have much to look forward to,” he chuckled.  “I recall once you said you wished you had some war stories to share, but it seems you do now.”

   “Some days it is a battle,” you agreed.

   “Believe me, I know.”  He gazed at you then, that glint in his eyes as he smiled tenderly.  You found yourself unable to look away.  It was like a magnet pulling you to him, and if there weren’t a table separating you, you might have even leaned in for a kiss.  It was like electricity crackling between you, and you had to force yourself to glance down at your now-empty tray.  The time working with Obi-Wan again would be interesting.  Even after only a few hours together, you felt that same pull that you fought for years.  You wondered how long you could go without giving in.  You wondered if he felt it as strongly as you did.  By the look flashing in his eyes as you leaned in ever so slightly to scoot out of your seat, you figured he might.

   An interesting time indeed. 

[sakura-83]

Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 2 Episode 1: Youth Is The Season of Hope

1. Anne looking over her collection of treasures

2. Her walk through the forests and fields, talking to trees and watching butterflies and being free from worldly concerns such as dirtying her clothes or going home before dark

3. The general way that Anne loves nature

4. Anne falling into a creek. I’ve done that so many times

5. Anne coming hone covered in twigs and mud and Matthew just smiling

6. It does make me sad how Mr. Dunlop is genuinely happy at Green Gables but the plan still crumbles. He was a bad person but I still wish he could’ve had his house, a calm life, maybe then he could’ve changed forever.

7. The fact that when school isn’t in session, there’s no paper to be had for students

8. Anne critiquing the way Nate prays

9. “And bless those who are here, and those who are in our hearts” CUTTING INTO A SHOT OF THE BOAT GILBERT IS ON

10. Gilbert singing while he works

11. Bash being exasperated with Gilbert

12. Gilbert could’ve had a comfortable steady life but willingly chose to work in the name of adventure and experience

13. Nate trying to convince Anne of all people that geology is boring

14. Nate frequently says things that will trigger a flashback in Anne and yet she still continues to spring back up enthusiastically

15. The whole flirting thing between Nate and Marilla never fails to make me very uncomfortable

16. Yknow. It’s probably the money they stole from Jerry that’s paying the rent

17. Jerry having a mini heart attack when Anne is in the barn

18. Jerry knowing there’s something off about Nate but being unable to place it

19. Anne’s fond talk of reading seeking very surface level while the scene is interrupted by flashbacks of how it was the only hope, the only shred of happiness she was able to keep in her youth

20. “Reading can save your life.”

21. Anne finding Jane eyre when she had to hold the books as punishment

22. “Look at this sentence, isn’t it glorious!” “Sometimes you’re not very nice.” “What do you mean? Why are you- Jerry!” “No school for me, remember?” “I can teach you to read!”

23. Jerry telling her not to bother and her proceeding to relay the entire alphabet anyways

24. They don’t have any paper so Anne has to teach him by writing in the hay and dirt on the ground

25. Nate just starting to scream and throw things so people thing he’s having a breakdown

26. Stupid mr Barry falling for it

27. The cuthberts singing the same song as Gilbert while they work

28. Bash explaining to Gilbert that he’s a young white boy and he can do whatever he wants in life, but bash is stuck with his lot in life and needs to keep his job

29. Bash telling him he’s also bad at singing

30. “I’m so glad I get to live in a world where there are Octobers, aren’t you?”

31. Anne being baffled that they haven’t been to the beach since they were children

32. Anne going to the beach for the first time

33. The way she absolutely has to stand on the cliff edge over the ocean

34. Matthew waving back to her

35. Anne impulsively stripping down and jumping into the ocean during a Canadian October

36. Matthew doing the same

37. Anne can’t swim

38. Anne laughing at her near death experience

39. Matthew teaching her to swim

40. Anne asking to buy back Birdie with the harvest money

41. Even Marilla coming to enjoy the beach

42. Anne looking off into the sea from land and Gilbert looking out to the horizon from the ship deck

43. Only Anne would realize how well loved the gold chapter is

44. Anne’s impulsive and nosy nature is what ultimately revealed Nate’s lie

45. Nate manipulating a child and taking advantage of their trust

46. “How about a dashing hero, named Albert, Herbert, Rupert, Pilbert-“ “Pilbert!? That’s ridiculous! I would never write a story about a boy named Pilbert!” “It’s not like we can’t tell-“ “Well YOU always murder everyone because you can’t figure out what to do with your characters-“

47. Aunt Josephine wanting to read their stories

48. Anne using an entire framed embroidery piece to teach Jerry to read

49. Jerry trying to refuse learning to read but being convinced by the way Anne talks about it so fondly

50. “Reading can save your life.” “Alright, I’ll try it.” “YES!”

51. “Let’s kill the cat.” The cat being Anne. I wouldn’t put actually killing her past Nate

52. Them decorating a pie

53. Jerry carving the alphabet into the barn wall

54. Poor Jerry, not only did Nate beat him terrible but the comments about “a little French pig” are also. Ouch.

55. Anne coming out of a flashback and still acting brave, plus her starting to catch on to Nate based on his outbursts and Jerry’s behavior

56. Not Nate half stripping in front of Marilla >:(

57. Yayyyyy more marriage drama from the Barry household

58. “I just want to do something that matters for once.”

59. Mr Dunlop really isn’t so bad to me? A crook, sure, but one with basic empathy and way less full of malice towards children

60. Anne making him an apron

61. One specific tell of the lie being the specific repeated use of the phrase “moral quandary”. Most people in a genuinely situation wouldnt repeatedly use that phrase and Nate’s liberal use of it makes him feel scripted which is perfect because he’s a liar using a script

62. Marilla giving Jerry an entire BASKET of pastries for his family

63. Never tell Rachel Lynde a secret

64. $150 PER GOLD TEST????

65. Fun facts from Matthew, most folks in Avonlea make about $300-$400 a year

66. Nate isn’t a great actor but mr Dunlop certainly is, mostly because he’s half genuinely

67. “You are a moral man.” :/ well

68. Anne immediately thinking of writing to Gilbert and being determined to find where he is

69. Anne almost cracking the code with the stamp and then getting distracted

70. “Does that sound romantical?” The- the manifest, not the letter to Gilbert-“

71. “Please let there be gold in Avonlea, so that there’s no more hardship for anyone. And please, please help me get my letter to Gilbert. And please be sure I don’t misspell any words! Amen.”

[inkandpen22]

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (1/?)

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader / Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader  

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6k 

Part Summary: Y/N and Peter have been best friends since they were little. She knows all about their ‘supposed’ adventure to Narnia last year. She’s not quite convinced... that is until she sees it with her own eyes. 

Masterlist

“No Ed, I won’t do your English paper!" I nudge the boy on the side as we hurry to the train station.

“Oh come on, I’ll help you with your chemistry!” He rushes out.

“You’re haven’t even taken chemistry yet," I remind him. He's younger than me, what could his help possibly do for me?

Commotion in the stairwell of the train station interrupts our chatter. Edmund and I push through the crowd, afraid of the worst. Sure enough, I was right with my prediction as I watch Peter being tossed around like a rag doll. Edmund shoves me as he leaps past to join in the fight.

“Ed, no!” I yelp, reaching for his wrist.

He slips out of my grip with a yank. Susan and Lucy appear at my side, visibly as frustrated as me. Why must they always be getting into fights? After last year, when the four of them came back from the country, they were different. Peter was different. My life-long friend that was always levelheaded and determined had become impatient and spoke of fairytale lands. His ego has never faltered in over the decade that I’ve known him, but to believe himself a king is a bit much.

The familiar sound of the Military Polices’ whistles causes everyone to scatter. I, however, linger to wait for Peter.

“Y/N, come on!” Lucy tugs at my shirt.

“No, you go on,” I tell her and Susan.

“You’re going to get in trouble!” The eldest warns.

“What else is new? Your brother is always getting me in trouble,” I laugh.

Susan and Lucy run off to avoid getting written up for instigating. I'm always waiting for Peter after these things. Leaning against the wall, I watch as the MP grabs Peter by the collar and yank him up. He tells him off and shouts at Peter to grow up. Lord knows he needs to hear it from time to time. Solemnly, he goes and picks up his satchel. His eyes finally find me, having not realized I was even here until now. His eyes are wide at first like he’s been caught. Then, his features fall as guilt replaces surprise.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. I know he genuinely means it, but this attitude is getting old.

I try to knock some sense into him. “Be sorry to yourself. You’re better than this Peter!” I'm sure I sound nagy, but someone has to do it.

“I know, but he bumped me." Peter drapes his arm over my shoulder and begins to escort me to the train platform.

“So you punched him?” I grumble, having heard this story a million times.

“No," he remarks In a sassy tone. "He bumped me, was going to make me apologize, so then I hit him!”

I halt, making Peter stop a few steps ahead. He sighs dramatically, already knowing what's coming as he scans the station. His brother and sister sit on the bench just yards away. Lucy and Ed can't help but look, despite Susan's pestering.

“This isn’t a boxing ring! We’re just kids!” I shout to my best friend.

His head snaps in my direction. Oh great, here we go.

“I wasn’t always a kid, Y/N! You try growing up to be thirty and a full-fledged king only to be sent back as a kid and useless!” He yells in return.

Solemnly, I interlock our hands. He avoids my gaze until I place a hand on his cheek and make him look at me.

"You’re not useless," I tell him simply, calmer than before.

“I sure feel like it,” he grumbles.

“If you were I wouldn’t be so fond of you,” I smile.

His sea-blue eyes aren't as bright as they could be, but they're not gloomy at least. I need to remind myself to bring a comb with me to school for when Peter decides to get all raggedy. I brush some of his now disheveled hair back from his face. He reacts with a weak smile and brings his hand up to mine to interlock them. Calmly, he guides me over to the bench with the other Pevensies.

“Must you always be fighting?” Susan nags.

“Must you always be a know-it-all,” Peter fires back as we sit down beside each other.

“Takes one to know one,” Edmund adds to the mix.

“Enough you three,” I declare as Peter rests our hands on his lap. I turn my attention to the eldest sister beside me. “Who was that boy I saw you were speaking with?”

“Someone from school. I don’t want to talk about it,” She shifts uncomfortably.

“Ow!” Lucy suddenly yelps, flying up from the bench.

“Quiet Lu,” Susan grumbles.

“Something pinched me!” Lu points to the bench.

“Stop pulling!” Peter yells at Ed next to him.

“I'm not touching you!” His brother shouts defensively.

A sudden pinch to my bum makes me leap up from the bench like Lucy. “Honestly Peter!” I scold, brushing down my skirt.

He hurries to stand, wide-eyed. “It wasn’t me!”

"It feels like magic!" Lucy expresses enthusiastically.

“Everyone stop!” Susan barks, appearing at my side. “Quick hold hands.”

Peter immediately takes my hand. I do as Susan asked and slip mine into her's as well. Soon, we're all holding hands in a line facing the platform. I train zooms through the station at such a fast rate that it creates a gust of wind. People around us don't react to tiles flying off the walls or the metal beams being ripped from the ceiling. Panicked, I move my arm back to let go of Peter's hand. When he notices, his head snaps in my direction and he grips my hand tighter.

"Never let go!" He instructs sternly, almost sounding like a warning.  

“Peter, what’s happening?! What is this?!”

A glimmer of light flashing into my eyes from across the station captures our attention. I watch as what appears to be a sea coast begins to appear through the windows of the train. What was once the subway tiled wall is now stone. I glance down at our feet and there's no longer cement, but sand. Eventually, all remnants of the station are gone and we're standing in a cave beside a crystal blue sea. I turn my attention to the bright light of the sun pouring in from the entrance of the cave and the train disappears into it.

Susan lets go of my hand, but Peter remains squeezing mine. Anxiously, I slip my free hand around his arm. The Pevensies don't appear quite as awestruck as me, merely in a daze in fact. I follow their lead, walking toward the entrance of the cave. Lucy steps ahead, turning back to us with a bright smile. Then, she and Susan run off ahead giggling. Peter lets go of my hand and shoves Ed in the chest playfully before running off after the girls. Soon, the four of them are playing in the ocean, as glad as can be.

Still, in a bit of shock, I walk along to join them. Where are we?! How did that happen?! How are they so bloody calm?!

"We did it!" Lucy squeals as she splashes Peter.

“We’re back!” Ed gleams.

“I can’t believe we’re here!” Susan adds.

I kick off my shoes as they've done, but remain just ankle-deep in the water. “Where is here exactly?” I ask softly, internally debating whether I'm just dreaming.

“Narnia!” Peter laughs, visibly overjoyed.

My head shifts forward as I stare at my friend in disbelief. “Narnia?! The place you kept telling me about last year?! It’s real?!”

“You didn’t believe us?” Lucy questions.

“Didn't believe me?” Peter adds, peering at me with a hurt expression.

"Oh don't give me that. If I came up to you and told you I was a mermaid, would you believe me?" I ask as he approaches me.

The rest of the Pevensies continue their celebrating as Peter and I are evidently going to have it out again. Forgive me for not being quick to believe in fairytales. The blonde boy towers over me by nearly a foot and appears rather pleased about it at this moment.

"Perhaps... should we test and see if you really are one?" He snickers mischievously, his hard face fading away.

"What?"

He ignores my question, instead, Peter picks me up over his shoulder and carries me out into deep water. I squeal playfully swatting at his back to be let down.

"Peter! Peter no!" I laugh nervously which only encourages him.

In a second, he flings me into the deep water with a splash. The crystal blue waves encompass my body as the cold temperature electrified my skin. I push off the sandy clay-like floor and rise above the surface. The water comes up to just above my waist. Hands appear on my face and start to wipe the water away from my eyes. I recognize the laughter to be Peter's. My eyes flicker open and sure enough, my best friend stands in front of me soaking wet. I smirk and flick my hand across the water to splash him in the face.

I laugh, "paybacks!"

"Oh, you're going to get it!" He grins, already wrapping his arms around my waist.

It's true, all of it is true! I remember everything Peter told me, even if I didn't necessarily believe it, I listened.  I've known them practically my whole life, how could they possibly be existing in two worlds? I look at Peter and his siblings right now and all I see are kids. I can't envision them as monarchs! If all of it's true, Peter was once a man, a grown man! He's lived through so much and has far more life experience than I could ever imagine. I have so many questions!

___________________________

Tags:  @blackbirddaredevil23​ @rangergranger11​ @hyperactiveravenclaw 

Masterlist

[gardenofkore]

The Theory of the Sicilian Origin of the Odyssey refers to a particular trend (particularly fashionable during the 19th century) according to which the true author of the Odyssey was a young woman from Trapani, who took inspiration from people and places familiar to her to write this famous epic poem. The postulation was made especially renowned after Victorian novelist Samuel Butler published his work The Authoress of the Odyssey in 1897 and is still debated nowadays. The main reasonings who could support the theory of a female writer are the fact that, in the Odyssey, women are depicted as more reasonable and positive than men, who act almost mechanically and aren’t as exalted as their female counterparts. While Iliad’s women are creatures who need to be protected, Odyssey’s women rule, counsel and protect. When Ulysses reaches Scheria, Nausicaa advises him to plead for help from Queen Arete rather than King Alcinous. No woman in the Odyssey is made fun of, and almost everyone of them is treated with respect, except if they committed a serious crime (like Penelope’s unfaithful handmaidens, who are showed no mercy) while men aren’t considered trustworthy and able. Also, the text is peppered with small errors (about navigation, the structure of a ship, the shape of a weapon etc) which no male author could have made.

Who, then, was she?

I cannot answer this question with the confidence that I have felt hitherto. So far I have been able to demonstrate the main points of my argument; on this, the most interesting question of all, I can offer nothing stronger than presumption.

We have to find a woman of Trapani, young, fearless, self-willed, and exceedingly jealous of the honour of her sex. She seems to have moved in the best society of her age and country, for we can imagine none more polished on the West coast of Sicily in Odyssean times than the one with which the writer shews herself familiar. She must have had leisure, or she could not have carried through so great a work. She puts up with men when they are necessary or illustrious, but she is never enthusiastic about them, and likes them best when she is laughing at them; but she is cordially interested in fair and famous women.

I think she should be looked for in the household of the person whom she is travestying under the name of King Alcinous. The care with which his pedigree and that of his wife Arēte is explained (vii. 54-77), and the warmth of affectionate admiration with which Arēte is always treated, have the same genuine flavour that has led scholars to see true history and personal interest in the pedigree of Æneas given in "Il." XX. 200-241. Moreover, she must be a sufficiently intimate member of the household to be able to laugh at its head as much as she chose. [...]

Lastly, she must be looked for in one to whom the girl described as Nausicaa was all in all. No one else is drawn with like livingness and enthusiasm, and no other episode is written with the same, or nearly the same, buoyancy of spirits and resiliency of pulse and movement, or brings the scene before us with anything approaching the same freshness, as that in which Nausicaa takes the family linen to, the washing cisterns. The whole of Book vi. can only have been written by one who was throwing herself into it heart and soul.

All the three last paragraphs are based on the supposition that the writer was drawing real people. That she was drawing a real place, lived at that place, and knew no other, does not admit of further question; we can pin the writer down here by reason of the closeness with which she has kept to natural features that remain much as they were when she portrayed them; but no traces of Alcinous’s house and garden, nor of the inmates of his household will be even looked for by any sane person; it is open, therefore, to an objector to contend that though the writer does indeed appear to have drawn permanent features from life, we have no evidence that she drew houses and gardens and men and women from anything but her own imagination.

[...]

Richly endowed with that highest kind of imagination which consists in wise selection and judicious application of materials derived from life, she fails, as she was sure to do, when cut off from a base of operation in her own surroundings. This appears most plainly in the three books which tell of the adventures of Ulysses after he has left Mt. Eryx and the Cyclopes. There is no local detail in the places described; nothing, in fact, but a general itinerary such as she could easily get from the mariners of her native town. With this she manages to rub along, helping herself out with fragments taken from nearer home, but there is no approach to such plausible invention as we find in Gulliver's Travels, Robinson Crusoe, or Pilgrim's Progress; and when she puts a description of the land of Hades into the mouth of Circe (x. 508–515)—which she is aware must be something unlike anything she had ever witnessed—she breaks down and gives as a scene which carries no conviction. Fortunately not much detail is necessary here; in Ithaca, however, a great deal is wanted, and feeling invention beyond her strength she does not even attempt it, but has recourse with the utmost frankness to places with which she is familiar.

Not only does she shirk invention as much as possible in respect of natural features, but she does so also as regards incident. She can vilipend her neighbours on Mt. Eryx as the people at Trapani continue doing to this day, for there is no love lost between the men of Trapani and those of Mte. S. Giuliano, as Eryx is now called. She knows Ustica: the wind comes thence, and she can make something out of that; then there is the other great Sican city of Cefalù—a point can be made here; but with the Lipari islands her material is running short. She has ten years to kill, for which, however, eight or eight-and-a-half may be made to pass. She cannot have killed more than three months before she lands her hero on Circe's island; here, then, in pity's name let him stay for at any rate twelve months—which he accordingly does.

She soon runs through her resources for the Sirens’ island, and Scylla and Charybdis; she knows that there is nothing to interest her on the East coast of Sicily below Taormina—for Syracuse (to which I will return) was still a small pre-Corinthian settlement, while on the South coast we have no reason to believe that there was any pre-Hellenic city. What, she asked herself, could she do but shut Ulysses up in the most lonely island she could think of—the one from which he would have the least chance of escaping—for the remainder of his term? She chose, therefore, the island which the modern Italian Government has chosen, for exactly the same reasons, as the one in which to confine those who cannot be left at large—the island of Pantellaria; but she was not going to burden Calypso for seven long years with all Ulysses’ men, so his ship had better be wrecked.

This way out of the difficulty does not indicate a writer of fecund or mature invention. She knew the existence of Sardinia, for Ulysses smiles a grim Sardinian smile (xx. 302). Why not send him there, and describe it with details taken not from the North side of Trapani but from the South? Or she need not have given details at all—she might have sent him very long journeys extending over ever so many years in half a page. If she had been of an inventive turn there were abundant means of keeping him occupied without having recourse to the cheap and undignified expedient of shutting him up first for a year in one island, and then for seven in another. Having made herself so noble a peg on which to hang more travel and adventure, she would have hung more upon it, had either strength or inclination pointed in that direction. It is one of the commonplaces of Homeric scholars to speak of the voyages of Ulysses as "a story of adventurous travel." So in a way they are, but one can see all through that the writer is trying to reduce the adventurous travel to a minimum.

See how hard put to it she is when she is away from her own actual surroundings. She does not repeat her incidents so long as she is at home, for she has plenty of material to draw from; when she is away from home, do what she may, she cannot realise things so easily, and has a tendency to fall back on something she has already done. Thus, at Pylos, she repeats the miraculous flight of Minerva (iii. 372) which she had used i. 320. On reaching the land of the Læstrygonians Ulysses climbs a high rock to reconnoitre, and sees no sign of inhabitants save only smoke rising from the ground—at the very next place he comes to he again climbs a high rock to reconnoitre, and apparently sees no sign of inhabitants but only the smoke of Circe's house rising from the middle of a wood. He is conducted to the house of Alcinous by a girl who had come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water (vii. 20); this is repeated (x. 105) when Ulysses’ men are conducted to the house of the Læstrygonian Antiphates, by a girl who had come out of the town to fetch a pitcher of water. The writer has invented a sleep to ruin Ulysses just as he was well in sight of Ithaca (x. 31, &c.). This is not good invention, for such a moment is the very last in which Ulysses would be likely to feel sleepy—but the effort of inventing something else to ruin him when his men are hankering after the cattle of the Sun is quite too much for her, and she repeats (xii. 338) the sleep which had proved so effectual already. So, as I have said above, she repeats the darkness on each occasion when Ulysses seems likely to stumble upon Trapani. Calypso, having been invented once, must do duty again as Circe—or vice versâ, for Book x. was probably written before Book v.

Such frequent examples of what I can only call consecutive octaves indicate a writer to whom invention does not come easily, and who is not likely to have recourse to it more than she can help. Having shown this as regards both places and incidents, it only remains to point out that the writer's dislike of invention extends to the invention of people as well as places. The principal characters in the "Odyssey" are all of them Scherian. Nestor, Ulysses, Menelaus and Alcinous are every one of them the same person playing other parts, and the greater zest with which Alcinous is drawn suggests, as I have said in an earlier Chapter, that the original from whom they are all taken was better known to the writer in the part of Alcinous than in that of any of the other three. Penelope, Helen, and Arēte are only one person, and I always suspect Penelope to be truer to the original than either of the other two. Idothea and Ino are both of them Nausicaa; so also are Circe and Calypso, only made up a little older, and doing as the writer thinks Nausicaa would do if she were a goddess and had an establishment of her own. I am more doubtful about these last two, for they both seem somewhat more free from that man-hatred which Nausicaa hardly attempts to conceal. Still, Nausicaa contemplates marrying as soon as she can find the right person, and, as we have seen, neither Circe nor Calypso had a single man-servant of their own, while Circe was in the habit of turning all men who came near her into pigs or wild beasts. Calypso, moreover, is only made a little angry by being compelled to send Ulysses away. She does not seem to have been broken-hearted about it. Neither of them, therefore, must be held to be more fond of men than the convenience of the poem dictated. Even the common people of Ithaca are Scherians, and make exactly the same fault-finding ill-natured remarks about Penelope (xxiii. 149-151) as the Phæacians did about Nausicaa in Book vi. 273-288.

If, then, we observe that where the writer's invention is more laboured she is describing places foreign to her own neighbourhood, while when she carries conviction she is at or near her own home, the presumption becomes very strong that the more spontaneous scenes are not so much invention as a rendering of the writer's environment, to which it is plain that she is passionately attached, however much she may sometimes gird at it. I, therefore, dismiss the supposition of my supposed objector that the writer was not drawing Alcinous’ household and garden from life, and am confirmed in this opinion by remembering that the house of Ulysses corresponds perfectly with that of Alcinous—even to the number of the women servants kept in each establishment.

Being limited to a young woman who was an intimate member of Alcinous’ household, we have only to choose between some dependant who idolised Nausicaa and wished to celebrate her with all her surroundings, or Nausicaa (whatever her real name may have been) herself. 

[...]

 The fact that in the washing day episode, so far as possible, we find Nausicaa, all Nausicaa, and nothing but Nausicaa, among the female dramatis person, indicates that she was herself the young woman of Trapani, a member of the household of King Alcinous, whom we have got to find, and that she was giving herself the little niche in her work which a girl who was writing such a work was sure to give herself.

[...]

At the same time I think it highly probable that the writer of the "Odyssey" was both short and plain, and was laughing at herself, and intending to make her audience laugh also, by describing herself as tall and beautiful. She may have been either plain or beautiful without its affecting the argument.

I wish I could find some one who would give me any serious reason why Nausicaa should not have written the "Odyssey." For the last five years I have pestered every scholar with whom I have been able to scrape acquaintance, by asking him to explain why the "Odyssey" should not have been written by a young woman. 

Samuel Butler, The Authoress of the Odyssey

[chickenmcstucky]

FIRST OFF YOUR REVAMP OF YOUR BLOG?!?! *chef’s kiss* 😭😭😭 second... 👉👈 if you’re able to do requests 👉👈 can I request 40s!bucky advancing with reader on a date? Maybe before he gets shipped out? 👉👈 you can do whatever you want with it! Thank you for reading this AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR WHATS TO COME FROM YOU

ROSEEEEEEE you are my heart omg <3 seriously none of this would be happening without you. I did a little headcanon-style thing for this, I hope that’s okay and that you like it!! Also this got really long, its basically a full length fic in bullet point form lol

So because I love a soft, sweet Bucky, it starts like this -

You were on a first date with some guy your mother had set you up with, seeing as his mother and your mother were friendly

At first you were excited, you’d never really talked to him much but he was handsome and you thought maybe it could go somewhere

All your girlfriends were always going on dates and having a good time, while you usually preferred to stay in with a good book, and to be honest you’d never gotten as much interest from fellas as them but that was alright, you were happy as you were

So there you were, out on the first date with Freddie Jameson, and from the start it was...less than great

He picked you up late, didn’t even compliment your dress, did none of the things your girlfriends were always gushing over guys for doing

On your way to the cinema, he was absolutely talking your ear off about some stupid argument he had with some guys down at the docks where he did the books

You couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but honestly you didn’t wanna talk anyways because this guy was just not who you expected or wanted...some big macho guy obsessed with his reputation and single-minded to the point of barely paying attention to you? No thanks. You knew your worth

You were determined to push through the date, hopeful to a fault, so when you arrived to the cinema and he let you pick the film, you were surprised, but picked the new sci-fi film The Invisible Woman

From the way Freddie scoffed at this, and grudgingly bought the tickets, acting like it was an inconvenience, you should’ve known things would only get worse, but on into the theater you went

When Freddie realized the story revolved around a woman - one getting comedic revenge on her boss, no less - he gave you some choice words about how you were forcing this new-age mess on him, how he didn’t really wanna take you out anyways but had been “kind” enough to give you a chance, this that and the other thing until you were in tears and your face was so hot you were sure the temperature in the theater had raised a few degrees

When someone in the theater finally spoke up, it wasn’t even to defend you, but to tell you two to take it the heck outside and stop interrupting

Freddie stomped right out, and with your only other option being to cower in the theater, alone, for the rest of the film, you left too

By the time you made it outside, Freddie was long gone, and you barely managed to slink around the corner to the back alley before the tears started falling in earnest

Just your luck to finally go on a date, and get left in the lurch and embarrassed in front of a whole theater of strangers

As you stood against the brick wall in the darkness of the warm night, you tried to calm yourself down enough to catch the streetcar back home so you could sulk in the privacy of your own room

Suddenly you heard two male voices and your head jerked up because you really didn’t need more humiliation - or worse, danger - right now

But when you saw the two men come around the corner, you relaxed seeing it was none other than Bucky Barnes and little Steve Rogers, and you knew they wouldn’t cause you trouble, Bucky was an Army man after all, just back from basic training

You’d never really interacted with them except as children, knowing Steve could be a real spitfire and Bucky a sweet flirt, but they were good men without poor reputations relating to ladies

Still, you rather hoped they’d just pass on by you without noticing, because really, you’d had enough for the night

Just your luck, though, Steve noticed - he must’ve known how it felt to be sulking, defeated, in an alleyway and sensed your struggle

As you made eye contact with him, you saw him nudge Bucky, who had yet to notice, and gesture towards you, the two of them still a fair distance from you

They immediately turned course and walked right towards you, as you just stood there blinking like a deer in headlights, unsure how to act and stuck between embarrassment for your state and hope that maybe you could at least ask them to accompany you to the streetcar stop so you didn’t have to go alone in the dark

“Uh, you alright there?” Steve spoke first as they came to a stop in front of you, scuffing his foot against the dusty pavement as Bucky took in your appearance, you feeling his eyes run over you from head to toe

You sniffled, unsure what to say and not wanting to reveal to them the humiliation you’d suffered - though you knew Freddie had been a real jerk, it was your pride that would suffer the more people knew what had happened

Then a smooth, sweet voice broke the silence, “did something happen, doll? What’s a nice dame like you doing alone in some back alley at night, huh?”

Something about the softness in his voice enveloped you in safety, and you couldn’t help but blurt the truth, “oh, it’s just awful, I was meant to be on a date with Freddie Jameson and he was so coarse and he just humiliated me in front of everyone and then just left,” your voice broke on the last word as the tears threatened again

When you raised your head back up, you saw a cold look of anger come over both mens’ faces, “that Freddie ain’t nothing but a jerk,” Bucky harrumphed, and Steve nodded ferociously, a look of determination coming over his face

“Somebody oughta teach him a lesson, that ain’t no way to treat a dame,” Steve growled, and before you or Bucky could protest, he stalked off, presumably in search of Freddie; you never forgot how once in grade school he’d punched a boy for pulling your hair, he hadn’t changed at all of course

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he’d show up tomorrow with a split lip and a black eye, but endeared by his passion in defending you

At your own giggle, Bucky’s handsome face broke out in a soft smile, as you shared a moment of reprieve from your upset

“I’m real sorry, doll, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that - Freddie don’t know what he’s missin, alright?” he spoke gently, and you couldn’t help but believe he meant it, seeing something in his eyes that gave you sweet pause

“I guess I know that, it’s just - I never - finally a date and it goes like this,” you scoffed, shrugging

“You never had a date before, doll?” you were surprised to see some genuine shock on his face

“Well, not never, I mean, just nothin serious now that I’m out of school and all, I guess…” you trailed off - here you were admitting to one of the handsomest GIs around that you didn’t have dates every Friday night like the other girls

“Well, we’re gonna have to fix that,” Bucky’s head tilted up, as if daring you to protest, a confident expression on his young face

“Oh, can’t I just go home, Bucky? I don’t wanna see Freddie again,” you kept the whine out of your voice, but just barely, thinking he was gonna find Steve and Freddie and force Freddie to finish your date

“I, uh, I meant - well, how bout I accompany you home, pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to walk around alone,” he insisted, but the slight pinkness on his face confused you, soon realizing perhaps you’d misunderstood his statement

Relief washed over you, though the sting of Freddie’s actions was still fresh, you were glad to not have to journey home alone; explaining to your mother why you were home so early was going to be bad enough as it was

“Gee, Bucky, that’s so kind of you,” you smiled, and he offered you the crook of his arm

“You’re over at Sycamore, right?” he inquired, and you realized perhaps he had paid you more attention over the years than you’d noticed, as you nodded yes

Gently, you wrapped your arm around his elbow, the soft fabric of his handsome uniform rubbing against your bare skin, and with your manicured fingers pressed against his forearm, something so right seemed to click into place, an unfamiliar yet not unwelcome feeling

As he walked you down the avenue, you were at first quiet, still unsure how to start a conversation with someone who had found you in such a state and who was being so kind

But Bucky, ever the ladies’ man, kept the conversation going, and as he talked about the upcoming Stark expo after he saw your eyes draw to the colorful advertisement for it on the front of the ice cream parlor

you were struck by the fact that you and Bucky really shared similar interests - innovation, sci-fi, adventure...soon you found yourself enthusiastically talking to him about all your favorite adventure books and how you hoped to see Stark himself present at the expo when it opened next month

Before you knew it, you were in front of your family’s apartment building; you hadn’t even realized Bucky had skipped the streetcar and walked you all the way home

You were struck by how much you wished the walk was longer, or that you could linger outside, but you already felt like Bucky had done enough for you and you knew you should go inside and face the music, get it over with

You slowly pulled your arm from its perch on Bucky’s, but before you could pull away fully, he caught your soft hand in his larger one as he gazed into your eyes

“Well, guess you’re home safe now, doll, it was real nice talking to ya,” he laughed a little, but he didn’t release his grasp on your hand

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a long while,” you laughed at yourself, “tonight wasn’t so bad after all,” you smiled at him and squeezed his hand, his reticence to leave giving you courage as you flirted

“Thank you again, Bucky, you really didn’t have to do this but I’m so grateful,” the earnestness in your voice shocked even you; he had really saved you from taking the streetcar alone, and had chased your upset mood right away with his boyish passion in your conversation

“My pleasure, honey. Listen, I know you might not wanna after such a bad experience, but hows about I take you on a proper date sometime? I’d really like to get to know you more, and besides, someone oughta show you what Freddie failed at,” your heart thumped at the offer and the prospect of someone like him wanting you

You were still scared though, what if it was just pity that had led him to talk you home and ask you out? What if the date went just as badly, and it turned out you were the problem, and not Freddie?

You realized your silence after his question had stretched out an uncomfortable amount as you saw his sheepish look, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously

Before he got the wrong idea, you finally found your voice, “I’d like that,” you said simply, shyness overcoming you once again

“Next Friday then, is it alright if I come pick you up? Say, around 7? We’ll have a real nice time, I’ll make sure, you deserve it doll,” Bucky was speaking so fast you couldn’t get a word in, but his charming nervousness was too cute

“Friday at seven,” you nodded, as he gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go of it

The whole week you were on edge, teetering between nerves and excitement at the prospect of your date, you were still so surprised at your luck that such a bad night could turn out so well, and that the handsome Bucky Barnes was so similar to you

Of course, in the back of your mind you knew he’d surely be shipping out soon, but all your girlfriends were dealing with that too, and you pushed the thought away, wanting to just enjoy the time you had

True to his word, Bucky knocked on your door right at 7, your father answering the door as you were still in your room finishing getting ready with your mother

You heard their voices down the hallway as Bucky introduced himself respectfully to your father; he really did seem like such a gentleman

Your mother put the finishing touches on your updo and sent you out to the living room to face your date

As you came into the room, your eyes went straight to Bucky, looking so dapper in his uniform - you loved that all the boys yet to ship out were required to wear their dress uniform while they were out, it was just so romantic

You saw a small bouquet of flowers in his hand and smiled shyly as you crossed over to him, taking the bouquet from his offering hands and thanking him kindly for the gesture

You went to hand the bouquet to your mother to put in a vase, but Bucky reached out and grabbed a single bloom first, tucking it into your pinned hair

“You look beautiful tonight,” he complimented you; you thought your mother might faint from excitement but you just looked down at your feet, a small smile gracing your face

“Thank you, Bucky, you’re very kind. Shall we?” you gestured towards the door and he led you towards it, his hand at the small of your back as your parents looked on

In contrast to his talkativeness from the previous week, Bucky was quiet at first as he walked you towards the main avenue, but it was a comfortable silence

“Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly, as though just then realizing where he was and what he was doing, “Jeez, look at me, said I’d take you on a proper date and I ain’t even held your hand,” he shook his head at himself and offered you his calloused hand, which you took gratefully

You found his sudden nervousness endearing, but it was soon gone as comfortable conversation began to flow; he asked about your week and didn’t seem to mind when you talked about your trip to the hair salon and the new dress your mother was having made for you, instead he was hanging on your every word like you were a new adventure book

To him, you truly were a new adventure, he’d talk about anything you wanted as long as he got to be with you

You talked with him about anything and everything as you made your way to your destination, him even joking to you about Steve’s rather unsuccessful attempt to defend your honor to Freddie, but you realized he never actually told you where you were going

“So,” you lilted at him, “where does a fella like you take a girl like me on a ‘proper date’ then?” you queried him, laughter in your voice because this was truly so fun, you’d be happy to just walk around talking all night

“Oh, I can’t tell ya just yet, sweetheart, it’s a surprise,” he winked at you and your knees went weak

Soon, though, you arrived at a cinema, not the same one as your disastrous date with Freddie thankfully

As Bucky walked you up to the ticket booth, you were excited to see what he’d choose

“Two tickets for the special showing, please,” he said to the boy in the booth as he handed over the dollar

Of course, he was expected to pay, but the way he was so confident in asking for the tickets and had the money ready made you feel like he was so glad to do it, honored, even

Bucky took the two tickets and steered you into the theater, but not before you saw the sign for the special event posted just at the door, they were projecting a special film about space onto the ceiling of the cinema - one of those planetarium experiences!

You couldn’t contain yourself, “Oh Bucky, wow! “A Journey through the Stars,” you read from the poster, “oh wow,” you repeated

“I hoped you’d like it,” Bucky said shyly, “let’s go on in, I want to get you a good seat”

The whole film, you were just enraptured by the narrator talking about cosmos and black holes, whole new solar systems

But Bucky was barely paying attention, his gaze drifting to your awed face

Sometimes you felt his eyes on you and you’d glance over, shy, but he’d look away just quick enough that you couldn’t be sure he was looking at you

As you walked out of the theater, he gently put his arm around you, and you reached up and grabbed his hand to keep it there; you felt so at home with him

“Bucky that was amazing, thank you!” you gushed as he led you down the street

“I’m real glad you liked it, doll,” he answered, “how about an ice cream?”

You were happy for the chance to extend the evening, not ready to leave his company

He took you to the same parlor you’d passed the previous week, even holding the door for you and helping you up onto a stool at the counter

“Oh, there are so many choices, I’m not even sure what I want,” you laughed, your eyes scanning the flavors on the blackboard on the wall

“Well, pick your top two, and I’ll get one and you get the other, and we can share!” he babbled, “I mean, if you want, that is…” he trailed off, but you just smiled

You picked classic vanilla, and cookies and cream to be adventurous, and he ordered for the both of you

You laughed and talked the rest of the evening, until finally the old man who ran the shop had to shoo you out so he could close

A little embarrassed at how you’d let the time get away from you, you hesitated on the sidewalk before Bucky offered you his arm again, and you took it, confidently this time

It being fairly late, he took you home via the streetcar this time, wanting to get you home at an appropriate hour so as to stay in your father’s good graces

It was still friday, though, no matter how late, so the car was rather crowded; he led you to the side of the car and grasped the bar running the length of the ceiling with one hand, wrapping your arms around his waist with his other hand so you didn’t have to reach up; once you were secured, he gently wrapped his free arm around your shoulders

Taking his lead, you rested your head in the crook of his neck as the car took you to your stop

The two of you were quiet, basking in the sweet comfort of each other; you kept thinking how right this all felt, and it seemed like something like hope had taken hold in your heart

The car lurched to a halt at your stop and Bucky’s arm tightened around you, keeping you steady, before he guided you onto the street and up the block to your building

You stood in the same place as a week ago, yet so much had changed; it was just one date, but there was a spark between you glowing bright

Slowly, Bucky took your hand, and you stepped closer to him as his thumb rubbed against your hand

“I guess it’s time to say goodnight then,” he spoke, regret coloring his tone

“I had a wonderful time, Bucky, thank you. First dates don’t seem so scary now,” you laughed, “thanks for doing this for me.”

“Happy to, but doll, I didn’t just take you out because of what happened. I just wanted to be with you, get to know you. I sure am glad we found you in that alley, I barely know you but...you’re changing my life, honey”

The adoration and conviction in his voice choked you up, no one had ever made you feel so seen, so wanted

“Oh Bucky, I feel it too, it’s so -” you shook your head, unsure how to vocalize the soaring feeling in your heart

“It feels like...coming home,” he whispered to you, his forehead leaning against yours in a lover’s confession

Instead of replying, you coasted on the wave of feeling that took over you, and kissed him softly, the taste of the ice cream still on his lips

Both your eyes fluttered shut as the simple kiss drove all other thought from your heads

He pulled away first, raising his hand to caress your cheek as he smiled softly, his eyes tearing away from your lips to meet your own sweet gaze

“So,” his kind cockiness returning, “next Friday?” he asked, his head tilting jauntily as he winked at you

“Next Friday,” you returned, your heart swelling

With a final kiss to your knuckles, he opened the door into your building for you, tipping his hat

You finally had a reason to be happy for Friday nights, a handsome fella to offer you his arm

And Bucky had a home to return to; no matter where the Army took him, he had the home you made for him in your heart