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loosingmoreletters · 4 months

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for the ask game? your current favorite ship, and meeting on a train ride au

this couldn’t ever be anything but an ORV fic

Kim Dokja didn’t want to feel uncharitable, but the last thing he needed right now was his train getting delayed because someone had decided to end their life in such an inconvenient way. There were neater solutions to it, though he supposed jumping in front of a train was at least more effective than jumping out of a window.

But honestly, Kim Dokja couldn’t care less. He just wanted to go home and, well, figure out what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life. Maybe he should just read Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse again? Even if the novel had disappeared from the website, Kim Dokja had copied and saved a version on it on his laptop at home. He had left the author many comments, been its only true commenter. It was a story written just for him, he could allow himself this indulgence, especially if he would pay for the novel in the future.

And then, finally, an announcement rang out.

Telling all passengers on the train. Telling all passengers on the train. E-Everyone run away… Run…!

What?

The moment the announcement was finished, the inside of the carriage became a mess, people standing up and screaming. Kim Dokja checked his phone, wondering if there was some other news appearing, yet he saw nothing but the usual weather forecast, the random game apps he had downloaded. And then the time switched from 6:59 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.

At once, the darkness grew heavier, oppressing, the weight of the world bearing down on him as slowly a figure emerged.

[The free service of planetary system 8612 has been terminated.]

[The main scenario has started.]

Familiar words rang out and Kim Dokja held his breath as a scene he’d only ever pictured in his head and drawn clumsily in school notebooks blurred into reality. A small fluffy creature floated above their heads and it proclaimed horrors Kim Dokja had seen as his salvation for over a decade. As people needlessly pestered the dokkaebi, Kim Dokja sat still. This was just like his novel. A train, a monster—

Kim Dokja raised his head, searching for the number of the train carriage. Which one had he boarded?

[3707]

Oh.

This story could only have one ending, could it? And it wasn’t one he was meant to see.

The subway became a bloodbath before the main scenario even started. Had Kim Dokja not read this story before, would he have reacted the same way? Would he be smeared against the glass windows now, dead before the story even really began?

Kim Dokja calmly put his phone in his pocket. Only he knew the future and if he was lucky enough, had proven himself faithful enough to his reason for living, then maybe he’d be allowed to live past the prologue.

A small window emerged in front of everyone’s blank eyes.

[The main scenario has arrived!]

The dokkaebi smiled bloodthirstily before it bowed. [I look forward to an interesting story.]

The next moment, the screaming started again. Kim Dokja turned to the left, the very end of the carriage, from where the people were starting to drop like flies. No question then where the protagonist was. Kim Dokja turned to his right. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the person next to him, they hadn’t moved at all either, had they?

There sat a boy, probably not even middle school aged, holding a box of grasshoppers. Wirely, Kim Dokja thought that he’d need the power boost to face the protagonist.

“Let me,” he told the boy and took the box from him. He opened it just so to get a single one out and pressed it into the boy’s hand. “Now squeeze.”

The boy did as told on reflex, his widening a moment later. With that, Kim Dokja had done his part, repaid the debt he owed the kid. Another particularly gruesome scream and a glance towards the left told him he didn’t have much time. Quickly he reached within the box, squishing all the insects and eggs inside.

[You have killed a living thing.]

[100 coins have been earned as additional compensation.]

Rapidly, the notifications rang out, and just as quickly, Kim Dokja invested them, and that not a moment too late as the last person standing between him and the protagonist was easily tossed aside.

Kim Dokja grimaced and pushed the kid behind him.

Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him with cold narrow eyes, as if searching for something. “Unusual.”

Somehow, Kim Dokja couldn’t keep from grinning. “Did that not happen in your last regression?”

It was only thanks to his added speed that Kim Dokja evaded Yoo Joonghyuk reaching for him. Yoo Joonghyuk might have killed more people than anyone else on this train, but it was Kim Dokja who’d win the trophy for mass murder, having killed the most living beings.

“What do you know?”

“More than you,” Kim Dokja replied. “I can definitely lead you to the end of scenarios. Make me your companion, Yoo Joonghyuk. You won’t regret it.”

The protagonist’s eyes widened.

Yes, Kim Dokja thought. This is what I stayed alive for.

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #lee gilyoung #fanfic #orv fanfic #anyway we still get the canon kicked off the bridge #but now yjh also has to deal with sole custody of the child until kdj returns #the child is NOT happy his new dad's shitty bf immediately killed his dad #the gang in the other compartment is more traumatized #yoo mia so disappointed when she meets her brother and lgy #and the first thing lgy does is tell her how shitty her brother treated kdj #letters is the point of this AU just canon but kdj got the kids in the divorce first?#yes #yes it is #ask #anon #prompts

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whydon-twego · 11 months

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It's really a stupid thing to do, Merlin knows that. It's stupid and pathetic, but he just feels so alone that he simply can't take it anymore. He's in bed, alone, lying between cheap IKEA-bought blankets and the hubbub of the bar downstairs. He used to like quiet. He liked it when he didn't want to see anyone when he wanted to isolate himself when Arthur died and most of his friends died and he simply didn't want to get attached to anyone anymore.

But being alone did not help him. Not knowing anyone after Arthur did not help him. There was a century, he can't quite remember when, where he stood still in the same position, staring into space, for about twenty years. He did not die of thirst, he did not die of hunger. He did not sleep, he did not speak. He remembers nothing of that time except that he felt absolutely nothing and perhaps that was the lowest point of his entire earthly existence. Perhaps. Or perhaps the lowest point he reached was when he thought he would burn the whole world, so maybe he would burn himself and finally stop waiting, waiting, waiting.

Waiting for someone who will never return. Waiting for someone he has been told will return one day when the world needs him. But the world has already needed him, over and over again. And he has never returned. He will never return. Merlin put his heart at rest in this regard. Now he wants to hear people chatting around him. He wants to hear life passing by and remember, to know, that every life is worthwhile, that every life is entitled to a chance, and that he is no one to take that chance away. Just because his heart is broken. Just because he will be alone forever because people die, but he does not. And so he's in bed, alone, lying between cheap IKEA-bought blankets and the hubbub of the bar downstairs. "Close your eyes, the hand clasped around yours is not your own hand. It's the hand of someone you care about" Merlin hears the words of the man with whom he shared a sad sandwich one September night long ago. And Merlin does. He closes his eyes in his dark room and tries not to think of anything but Arthur, certain he is not thinking of anything but his hand reaching up and bringing it to the other, touching his fingertips as if he were touching them for the first time, the inside in his wrist, his fingers.

It's a strange feeling and maybe Merlin is dissociating, but the hand that is caressing his other does not feel like his own, the feeling of someone touching him because they care about him, because they are friends, because they want to and because they do not want Merlin to feel alone is there. And Merlin, despite the fact that he is now always surrounded by voices, despite the fact that he is surrounded by colleagues, tenants, and patrons of the bar downstairs, is just as alone as he was those twenty years standing motionless in the forest.

The hand caressing his wrist is always there. Merlin can pretend it's Arthur at least for a few minutes. Merlin can pretend that in that world where he is alone and will remain alone, someone actually cares about him. Merlin allows it today. He cries as he strokes his hand, he will feel pathetic in the morning, he will feel like the worst living thing on the face of the earth when he realizes what he is doing, but for now, it's OK, for now, someone cares about him.

#merthur #merthur prompt #merlin prompt #merlin #merthur fanfic #melin fanfic #Merlin post finale #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #bbc merlin #Arthur will return because Merlin at some point really can't take it anymore #And Arthur will call him an idiot #and will never let him go again #my writing

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year

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Taking Root

A/N: This was supposed to be a micro-fic based off of a prompt sent to me when I was trying to kickstart the creative juices again, and it just... didn’t want to stay short. Which is just fine with me. This takes place roughly two years after Point of No Return (and the still upcoming epilogue/sequel Petrichor- I dropped a few hints about what to expect in that series here). It could probably be read as a standalone story, but it really should be read along with the main story for that universe. Huge thank you to @valkblue who sent the prompt that sparked this one shot!! Thanks, Angie!! <3

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none at all. this is very very soft.

Prompt: One character ruffling the other’s hair

Summary: After everything that Clara has done for Ezra and Cee, the two of them team up to make sure that her birthday is a special one.

“Are you sure she won’t be back before we’re done?”

Cee asked the question as she dropped a stack of wooden slats next to the porch steps. They landed with a soft clanking thud in the spongy grass near the toolbox Ezra had just set down. Up on the porch, Number Four jumped at the sudden sound, her stubby legs splayed in different directions as she toppled to her side. Abe, on the other hand, remained curled up on the doormat in the shape of a plump honey loaf, one orange ear twitching towards the source of the noise and deeming it nothing worth waking over. The smaller gray and white cat scrambled to her feet, letting out a tiny mewling yell as she tottered over to Abe’s side and tucked herself under his tail.

Brushing her palms together, Cee glanced over her shoulder at the long gravel driveway, as though expecting to see puffs of pinkish dust kicking up under the crunch of tires. Finding it empty, she turned back to face him, her lopsided frown almost comical to Ezra. No reason to fret, we have plenty of time.

“Of course I’m sure, Birdie.” He shifted his weight and tilted his head, left hip jutting out for his hand to rest on. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

With a roll of her eyes, the girl snorted. “How about last week? When you told me to turn right on Plox Street instead of left, and then we ended up on the other side of town, three zones from where we were supposed to-”

“I did not intend for you to take that question so literally,” he responded through a smirk, eyes narrowed in faux irritation. “Besides, we did eventually end up in the correct location, and in doing so we discovered a new route to the Med Center.” Arching one eyebrow, he held up his pointer finger. “One that is much more scenic, I might add.”

Cee tilted her head to one side and then the other. “Yeah, yeah.” Her frown finally faded into a smile that brightened her whole face. Though he wouldn’t know it for months after they came to be one another’s family, the girl’s smile - when it was genuine, when she was actually happy and it wasn’t forced or unsure - was infectious in the best way. As soon as he saw it, Ezra’s own cheeks pulled up in a grin. Because I am not immune to its shine. “It was a nicer ride.”

Beginning as soon as her second rainy season at the farm came to an end, Ezra had been teaching Cee to drive Clara’s truck. And she is taking to it like a lakefowl to water. Not that I am the least bit shocked there. Their lessons had started small, not leaving the property until she was comfortable with the pedals and controls. Once she was, Ezra let her drive short distances into town, always in the passenger seat giving calm encouragement, directing her on when to use signals, and reminding her to keep an eye on the power gauge. When trips to the butcher and the farm supply became simple enough for her, Clara suggested that Cee be the one to drive Ezra to his appointments at the Med Center, where he was being fitted for his prosthetic.

Finally.

After just over two years of fighting, frustration, failed muscle matter scans, grueling physical therapy exercises and an endless regimen of pharmaceuticals, he had been approved to receive a fully integrated mechanical arm to replace the one he’d lost on the Green.

Finally. I… I miss it.

He was still a few weeks away from the surgical procedure to attach it, but he had already been fitted with the brace mechanism that his new right arm would connect to - a series of metal fasteners that had been surgically fused to the bones of his shoulder and humerus. Shrugging his right shoulder, he rolled it backwards and felt as the material of his t-shirt skated over the fasteners. It was an odd sensation, and an even odder thing to think about how the six knob-like devices were embedded into his skeletal structure. Soon they would be covered not by his clothing, but by his arm.

And then I will be able to do things that I have not done in far too long.

A flood of ideas crashed through his mind then. Holding Clara closer and more tightly than he had in seven years was, of course, at the forefront. But it was followed by much simpler things. Like regaining his penmanship, lacing his boots without the use of a hook, peeling potatoes or chopping leeks in the kitchen, helping in the Thulian fields, having a catch with Siggi - and now Cee - at the end of harvest feast. They were things he was so ready for that the excitement kept him up at night, the phantom nerves of his lost limb itching with how close they were to feeling again.

But first there was a project to finish.

On Kamrea, and in the farmlands specifically, it was tradition to give handmade gifts to celebrate birthdays, and Clara’s was fast approaching. The previous year had been consumed by Ezra’s return and recovery, getting Cee settled into her new life, and planning and hosting Sig and Runa’s wedding. With so many moving parts and all at once, birthday gifting had taken a backseat.

Clara still made sure to have something for Cee, though.

He recalled the gobsmacked look of surprise on the newly turned 15 year old’s face as Clara handed her a small, brightly wrapped package after dinner, the look transforming into one of pure delight as she slid one finger between the paper to open it, revealing a hand painted photo frame. In it was a picture Siggi had snapped of Cee with Ezra and Clara at the Harvest feast a few months prior. There had been tears then, the girl flinging her scrawny arms around Clara’s neck in thanks.

That memory warmed his chest as much as the midday starshine warmed his skin.

Oh, Huckleberry, Birdie and I are both so lucky to have you. And I’m the luckiest of us three, for I have you both.

Now that things had more or less calmed down for the three of them, Ezra had been eager to get back to the tradition. He had always put thought and effort into the things he chose to make for Clara, often using his time away on the Green to brainstorm ideas. It helped keep him from feeling too homesick, thinking of ways to make the woman he loved smile. Because that smile is still the most glorious sight these eyes have ever seen. It always will be. Past gifts had included the swing hanging from the crater-oak beside the creek as well as the windchimes that graced the front porch of the house. The fact that both of those objects remained in place even through his absence from the farm was not lost on him, and he looked forward to giving her something else that would become a part of their home.

And this time he had an accomplice in Cee, the girl just as excited to have the chance to give Clara a gift as Ezra was. In fact, what they were currently in the process of building had been Cee’s idea.

And it was a perfect one.

In addition to learning how to drive and finding her feet within the Kamrean school system, Cee had also spent much of the last year and a half learning about Thulian - and plants in general - from Siggi. She’d seen the harvest right away, and after that, the preparations for the rains. But it was what she learned when the planting season came around again that seemed to strike a chord with her, the care and tending that went into helping things grow. Coming in from the fields one day while Clara was in town, her light hair stained pink with pollen powder and an enthusiastic shine in her eyes, she had informed Ezra that she knew what she wanted to make as a gift.

“But I’ll need your help,” she’d told him, biting her lower lip. “I’ve never built anything before. I’ve fixed things, like my headphones but- ” Her forehead creased as she shrugged. “But that’s electrical stuff. Wiring. I… I wouldn’t know where to start when I comes to wood and-“

Ezra chuckled. “Well, you can start by telling me what it is that you would like to construct, Birdie.” Reaching forward, he brought his hand up to the top of her head, brushing the Thulian powder from her hair and tousling the strands. Cee clicked her tongue in what Ezra knew to be false annoyance, the girl only half able to pull off a very unconvincing frown. The look only made Ezra’s smile lift higher. “If it is something I can assist you with then I promise that I will.” He arched one eyebrow, tilting his head towards his right shoulder. “Do, however, keep in mind that my carpentry abilities have been somewhat limited since the last time I took up a hammer.”

Cee shook her head, her now powderless hair swaying around her shoulders with the motion. “I just need you to tell me what to do and… make sure I don’t muck it up.”

“Well then I’ll have an easy job, Cee. I have yet to witness you do a single task poorly.” Ezra brought his hand to his hip, shifting his weight to one leg. “Now, will you tell me what it is you want to build? Or should I venture a guess?”

It was her turn to let a small amused huff slip through a smirk. “I could make you guess, but the idea is to have it finished before Clara’s birthday.”

That made him laugh, this one more full. “Alright then, Little Bird.” He dipped his chin, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. “Let’s hear it.”

She told him that she wanted to design and build a trellis for the front porch. Siggi had shown her how they were used in last season’s fallow field to help the newly planted Thulian stalks grow while they were still establishing roots. “It’s, well the porch is where we all spend a lot of time and-” She paused, taking a breath and not at all trying to hide the slight shake in it. “And a trellis is like… it’s like what Clara - and you - have done for me. Are doing for me. And I-”

Ezra reached for her then, not to ruffle her hair this time, but to pull her into a hug. Her arms - still thin but now noticeably stronger as a result of farmwork and full meals - wound immediately around his torso. She gave a small squeeze that he returned, along with a quick peck to the top of her head. “It’s perfect, Cee.” He released her, pulling back to look at the girl who had become such an important part of his life. “Clara is going to love it.” Just like she loves you. Just like I do.

“Okay, but seriously.” Cee bent down to pick up one of the wooden pieces, using it to gesticulate at the porch steps and snapping Ezra out of his daydream. He followed where she had indicated, his eyes landing on the framework for an arched trellis that was partially in place. “We’ve been working on this for two days already. Are you sure we’re going to finish in time?”

Ezra stooped down with a grunt to open the tool box. “I am, Little Bird.” He handed her a hammer, her fingers wrapping surely around the grip. “The Kamrean Agricultural Authority’s annual convention is a seven cycle affair. Clara and Sig will not be back for another few days, which gives us plenty of time to finish constructing the trellis and to plant the seedlings.” Pulling a handful of nails from the box, he jumbled them around in his palm before selecting one to pass to her, pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger while the rest curled inward to keep the other nails from spilling into the grass. “You worry too much, you know that, right? We are making good time. In fact I would dare to say that we’ll have this finished by supper.”

She lined the piece in her hand up to the framework, matching the pre-drilled holes to the markings that Ezra had shown her how to measure out. Letting out a sigh, she waited for him to replace her hand on the slat with his own, holding it still so she could drive the nail to attach it. “If you say so.” She set the nail, pinching it carefully as she readied the hammer. “Did you decide what we were planting in it?”

Waiting until after she’d finished with that slat, Ezra nodded, handing her another piece of wood from the pile. “That I did, and I think you’ll be happy with my choice, too.” In fact I know you will. I have heard you talk about wanting to see these blossoms extensively.

Cee scrunched her nose, taking the piece from him and repeating the process. “Me? This is a gift for Clara.”

Again he waited until she’d whacked the nail, all the while watching to be sure that she wasn’t about to smash her own hand. But she didn’t. See? Like a lakefowl to water. Anything she sets her mind to, this one. “It is a gift for Clara, but it was you who pointed out that we all spend time together on the porch, was it not”

“Yeah, but…” She trailed off, taking the next board that was handed to her. “Well, are you going to tell me, Ezra? Or am I going to have to guess?”

He laughed, the sound carrying up onto the porch and again startling Number Four but going unnoticed by Abe. “Actually I am quite confident that you would be able to guess. I’ll even give you a hint.”

Cee narrowed her eyes and pushed her lips to one side. “Fine. What’s my hint?” She continued on with her task of securing the slats that would act as a ladder for the vines of the climbing flowers Ezra had selected.

“They can be found in your favorite bo-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the hint, though, Cee’s eyes widening with wonder. “Novalilies?! Ezra? Are… Did you… Are we planting Novalilies?”

“We are indeed, Birdie.” He grinned. “I knew you’d guess it.”

Novalilies were the flowering vines that grew over the great archway leading to the Bowsum Conservatory - a place that Ezra had taken Clara so many years ago, and one that Cee had read about so many times that he knew that she could see it in her mind without ever having set foot there. They grew quickly and blossomed into soft white flowers that hung down like trumpets. But the real splendor came at night, when the petals, having soaked up the daylight, twinkled like stars against the dark.

“I…” She blinked, a smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t know they could grow anywhere but in the Ephrate.”

“All kinds of things can grow on Kamrea,” he told her. “Thulian, Crater-apples, Novalilies.” With a wink, he passed her the last slat for the side that they were currently working on, lifting his hand up to tousle her hair. “Even skinny little birds.”

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @shoopidly @fific7 @valkblue @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @disgruntledspacedad @novemberrain221 @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @thescarletfangirl @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

#ezra (prospect)#ezra (prospect) x oc #ezra (prospect) x oc clara #cee (prospect)#ezra (prospect) fic #ezra x clara #point of no return #PoNR #writing prompt #ezra prospect fanfiction #prospect fic #pedro pascal character #pedrostories

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glitterxfemme · 9 months

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Fuck off and stop interacting with my blog you fuckin terf

gotta be one of the more confusing asks i’ve gotten for 2 reasons, the first being if you don’t want me to interact with you block me then lol, the second being calling me a terf which is literally laughable

#i think both my trans roomates (trans man and trans woman)#and all my friends who are trans women who love me and i love in return #and not to mention my COUSIN who is a trans woman who i love so much #woukd think this is very funny #im not gonna go and make a whole post explaining why i’m not a terf bc at the end of the day i know i’m not and the people in my life know i #im not and someone on the internet who’s never had a conversation with me yet thinks they know me isn’t gonna change that #anyway i love trans women and their presence in our community #trans women belong in the lesbian community and their presence makes it better #also? when have i ever posted or expressed having radical feminist ideologies #weird #if ur gonna accuse me of being a terf which i am not then at least know what terf means #also not a single clue what prompted this #also i feel like this was sent to the wrong blog LMAO bc i also haven’t interacted with many posts the past few days at least not on this #blog #so perhaps they’re just confused bc that’s really the only explanation at this point #AND ANOTHER THING #im sure there’s afab non-binary ppl that are terfs but to me that sounds literally idiotic being non-binary myself and trans exclusive

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shitimkinky · 1 year

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i feel like we as snziety have neglected talking about stifled coughs. while stifling a sneeze is irritating and annoying, stifling a cough can be downright painful. the whumpability is through the fuckin roof

#like a sick hero on a stealth mission #but instead of just muffling sneezes #they also need to worry abt their coughs #and theyre just so exhausted and the wrong move with prompt their irritation through the point no return #idk its just so *mwah*#sicknario

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rosehathaways-sidepiece · 2 years

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I know a lot of people think season 2 is the weakest season of Daredevil because it's messy (and it is), but I deeply love the mess of that season because that chaotic disaster whirlwind perfectly explains the character metamorphoses everyone is going through. These three primary characters--Matt, Karen, and Foggy--were united at the end of season 1 and now we get to see where time ends up taking them, and it's away from each other.

Matt spends the season increasingly caught up in his own drama, his Daredevil persona (which he thinks can entirely separate from his life as Matt Murdock), to the point where he becomes completely self-isolating and self-involved, both detached from his real friends and grimly selfish in bringing the Punisher case to them and then never carrying his own weight through the trial (not to mention cheating on Karen). Elektra brings out these chaotic, dangerous impulses in him, but she doesn't cause them. it's not her fault, wholesale. It's an aspect of who Matt is as a person and it's rearing it's head mighty high.

Karen meets her literal nightmare made flesh in the form of the Punisher. The second she hears that moniker, you can see in her face that she feels like devil has come to take his due, to punish her for what she did to Weasley, and, moreover, for what she did her to family back in Vermont. But then she finds out that Frank isn't her nightmare and he certainly isn't the devil--he's a dangerously sympathetic man, one she feels a lot of connection to and empathy for. His pain reminds her of hers and it causes her to question her ideology and how she chooses to look at villains in general. At the start of the season, Frank represented her greatest fear and by the end of it, arguably, she fell a little bit in love with the thing she was most afraid of, even as he turned his back on her.

Foggy has always played second fiddle to Matt. He's comfortable playing that position because--he's Foggy. That's what he does. He's always the best friend, never the hero. Matt's the hero. Until Matt doesn't show up to do his job and Foggy has to take over and suddenly he becomes the protagonist of his own life for the first time. It deeply, indelibly shakes his relationship with Matt because Foggy realizes simultaneously that he can't rely on Matt like he used to (wants to) but also that he doesn't need Matt. It feels like Foggy has never been able to imagine himself having a voice or a presence as loud as Matt's until suddenly, in Matt's absence, Foggy realizes just how loud and important his voice can be.

And that's some good character development right there. Season 2 is a season where a lot of characters make important decisions, often bad ones, that cause strife and drama with each other, but it all feels in service to their personal growth and drives the story by authentically digging into the flaws that make these people who they are.

#I was looking at a gifset from season 2 and I was just like 'god. I LOVE that season'#it's the season of bad decisions and that is SUCH an important part of any story #the characters HAVE to make bad decisions at some point--how else will they grow!#there are other reasons people dislike this season the most out of the three I get that #I'm just talking about what I personally love about it #the return of my nmcu metas. prompted by absolutely nothing 😂#daredevil #matt murdock #karen page #foggy nelson

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elsanna-shenanigans · 2 years

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June 2022 Voting

After an extension and a tumultuous behind-the-scenes-technical-issues that almost pushed all of us past the point of no return, we are finally ready to open the voting period with 11 PoNR-themed June submissions.

No, it said PoNR, not whatever you read. Get your mind out of the gutter.

For this month we had two mandatory restrictions (no crack and no non-Frozen character inserts) and three extra restrictions (include the full phrase ‘point of no return’ in narration; extra limited word count; include a picture relating to setting description) for up to 3 bonus points.

You will have until Sunday the 24th at midnight (Baker Island time, GMT-12) to vote for your favorite of the 10 stories (one of the 11 is not going in the voting). Keep reading for the voting link and story list!

Don’t forget to fill in the additional feedback for your favorite stories! This month we are voting for ONE favorite and ONE kudos.

Vote here. See how to vote here or here.

Lineup for this month: 1. Landslide 2. White Asphodel 3. If I Could Turn Back Time 4. Up on the roof. 5. Everything to Everyone 6. Break Free 7. Just Another Tuesday Evening 8. Roe me down river 9. Amongst the Stars 10. The Way You're Falling in Love 11. Alone and Free (story disqualified from the voting)

Vote for your favorite story and give kudos to one other story as well. Don’t give kudos to your favorite story - this will make the kudos vote not count!

Please reblog this post when you see it to make sure it reaches the fans that might want to read the stories but don’t follow our blog yet - due to tumblr’s linking policy, it’s almost sure not to show up in the tag!

Visit us on discord if you have any questions, or want to discuss the stories/participate in our detailed review/feedback club for the submissions!

#elsanna #june 2022 contest #prompt: point of no return #voting

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valorums · 3 months

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i finally caved to the urge to do one of those bingo card things for Shi’al 👀

#⠇ ooc ⠇ ━━━ dave filoni stole my last braincell.#⠇ askbox prompts ⠇ ━━━ the point of no return

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moregraceful · 9 months

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For the ask meme: #13, Cole Caufield/Nick Suzuki

this came to me in a fugue state after i was shown a picture of them in their matching hats in Nassau, thank you so much for this (prompt meme: #13: 'discreetly')

Skip a beat, take a beat | Men's Hockey RPF | rated T | 1.9k | Cole Caufield/Nick Suzuki

“Like if I’m Cole, you’re Captain Nick," says Cole. “I mean, you are also Cole Caufield, that’s not nothing,” says Nick. He is compelled to defend his best friend on the team, even if he is defending his best friend on the team to his best friend on the team. “Maybe I’m captain, but you’re Cole Caufield.” “Captain Nick Suzuki,” says Cole. “Like, for real, for real. Captain. Bro!” He looks up at the sky. “I watched this live Billie Eilish video one time and—” “Why?” Nick asks. “Why would you do that? Why would anyone do that?”

aka bro what if we kissed in the bahamas while contemplating our oneness with the world

on AO3

#habs fans are going to hate me for how dumb i made nick in this but habs fans have you considered:#sometimes we are not our most intelligent selves on vacation while drunk and hanging with our best friend on the beach #truly this fic is proof that at any point in time i am capable of returning to a prompt meme given the right circumstances #bodes well for the other 300+ asks in my inbox lol #unfortunate birdcage fanfictions #cage replies

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crispyjenkins · 2 years

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anon prompt fill

alright so! lost the ask this prompt was for because tumblr fecked up, so i’m incredibly sorry if this was yours 😭 veered from the prompt somewhat, but when don’t i. i hope you like the changes!!! (ღ˘◡ ˘ღ)

Ahsoka doesn’t recognise him, when they first find him; his signature is unmistakable, Ahsoka would know it in a coma and half Force-blind, yet the young face that stares back at her and Cody is one she hasn’t seen even in holos of her grandmaster from before the War.

But that light in the Force is unmistakably Obi-Wan Kenobi.

With Master Anakin on probation in the Temple for killing Raako Hardeen and Cad Bane (she refuses to think it was in cold blood, but was... was revenge actually better?), Cody had been the one to accompany her and the 501st to investigate a tiny cloaked complex near Naboo that was rumored to belong to Count Dooku. And maybe Cody knows something she doesn’t about her Grandmaster’s past, because that same pained recognition is on his own face — or maybe he really is Force sensitive the way Anakin always jokes.

Force, Obi-Wan isn’t even wearing robes, instead dressed in a grey tunic and soft pants that look an exact copy of the red ones worn by the clones on Kamino, and Ahsoka almost drops her gaze, feeling as if she’s caught him in his undergarments.

“... General?” Cody asks softly at her side, voice raw and betrayed, but this... Not–Obi-Wan just blinks at him.

“Oh, no, not me,” the thing wearing her Grandmaster’s face says with a Serennian accent, smiling apologetically. “I’m afraid he hasn’t been by in quite some time.”

Ahsoka exchanges a quick look with Cody before stepping through the doorway properly, Not–Obi-Wan sitting on an assortment of vermilion cushions that are the only splash of colour in the entire room of washed-out greys and stark whites. He simply watches her approach, an actual flimsi book laid across his lap in a language that Ahsoka doesn’t know, but it isn’t until she’s halfway across the room that she starts to see little differences between this boy and her grandmaster. A mole a little too far to the left, brown eyes a little darker than they should be, lower lip a little too full.

When she doesn’t say anything, he frowns suspiciously. “You are here to see General Grievous, yes?”

Ahsoka feels her heart freeze in her chest, as Cody makes a strangled sound she’s never heard from him before.

It draws Not–Obi-Wan’s gaze back to the commander, and he raises one dark brow. “I was not aware my grandfather kept any of Fett’s clones for himself.”

Cody sputters, hand twitching towards one of the blasters at his hip, but Ahsoka knows he would never actually shoot Master Obi-Wan — if this even is Master Obi-Wan. Just to be safe, she sidesteps to put herself between the two of them, and holds up one hand placatingly. “Your grandfather?” she asks carefully, but the Force assures her she already knows the answer. “I didn’t realise Count Dooku had any living family still.”

Surprisingly, he snorts, and jerks a hand around the barren room. “If you call this living.”

She blinks. “You’re trapped here?”

“I honestly don’t even know what planet I’m on.” He says it like it means nothing, like it’s a given fact that he has no control over, and Ahsoka has to stop herself from punching the nearest wall.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, Ahsoka glances back at Cody, whose expression has shifted to forcibly-blank. “What’s your name?” she asks, desperately wishing Master Anakin were here, that Master Obi-Wan were here. The Force does not lie to her, but she had also held her grandmaster as he died, in her arms, and the impossibility of this... man, barely older than she is, having the same signature that she had felt as it snuffed out is...

“I’m not entirely sure,” that man says, with a tiny, forced smile. “General Grievous calls me Kenobi, and Lady Ventress calls me Little Jedi, but my grandfather calls me Yan.”

After the briefest of pauses, the air positively suffocating with confusion and horror and disgust, Cody slams his helmet back on and whirls out of the room, and the bulkhead-style door clangs shut behind him.

Yan doesn’t seem surprised by his outburst, lips pressed together in a thin line as he stares after him for a moment before dragging his eyes back to Ahsoka. “I am quite sure I have never met either of you, yet you both still seem to know me,” he remarks softly, one thumb fidgeting with the edge of the pages of his book.

“I...” Ahsoka starts, but doesn’t know what she had planned to say. “I, um, how old are you, Yan?”

If he is surprised by this either, he doesn’t show it. “I believe I am 19 Serenno years old, but as I have not seen a Galactic calendar since I was a child, I cannot be sure.”

Deeply disturbed, she goes on, “What did you mean by your grandfather ‘keeping’ one of Fett’s clones?”

“I was under the impression he only picked the template because his master wanted Fett,” Yan offers, deceptively-clever eyes watching her reaction closely, “So it would surprise me if he chose to keep one around.”

If Yan is telling the truth, if it was Dooku that commissioned the clones, that means... that means Count Dooku and Darth Tyranus are one in the same. Force, Ahsoka doesn’t even know where to start on all the implications of that, and a small part of her is relieved that this is important enough that she will be handing it off to someone much older and wiser than her as soon as possible.

Not that she would remove herself from the case completely, not when Yan is observing her with eyes Ahsoka had watched go dim.

Tipping his head to the side, Yan’s gaze intensifies, hand twitching over his book. “You are not allies of my grandfather.”

Ahsoka inhales slowly. There’s no way she can lie to him — hopefully Cody is still just outside in case she needs backup. “No.”

“He didn’t keep a Fett clone around, your companion is part of the GAR.”

“He is.”

Yan contemplates that for another minute, and he doesn’t seem angry, but Ahsoka isn’t sure if she would be able to tell even if he did. When the silence stretches into a tension Ahsoka wouldn’t be able to cut even with her ’saber, Yan nods to himself.

Then his face splits into a smile, a grin she’d seen dozens of times right before her grandmaster would throw himself into an especially-reckless plan that he shouldn’t survive but somehow still did. Yan locks his eyes with hers with a ferocity that holds her firmer than gravity.

His smile widens. “You wanna help me break the kriff out of here?”

#ask #prompt fill #anon #crispy writes #prequel trilogy #clone wars #was this just an excuse to write padawan obi wan again #*insert ''maybe so'' meme*#obi wan kenobi #ish #ahsoka tano #commander cody #help i used to have so many tags why can't i think of anything #slightly angsty but it gets better?#and yes #this was very confusing to write when i always name dooku ''yan'' in my other works #now that i've finished living icarus hunger should be next but absolutely no guarantee when that'll be #i love you all thank you for sticking with me so long #prompts will return at some point

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