a far shore

its 3:30am and I just woke up in a cold sweat because I realized noragami’s plot is literally a joke.

hiyori’s name is one syllable away from hiyoko, the japanese word for chick, i.e. a baby chicken. she becomes a half ayakashi and is then able to see beings from both the normal world and the far shore, as well as astral project herself and travel to places of the far shore that normal humans can’t. she gains the latter ability after running across the street to push yato out of the way of oncoming traffic.

noragami’s plot is literally: why did the chicken cross the road? to get to the other side.

note: spoilers for crooked kingdom!

do you ever think about what happened after matthias died? crooked kingdom might end on what is, essentially, a hopeful note, but i don’t think these kids recover that cleanly or that easily. kaz brekker and his court nurse their grudges. they don’t forgive and forget. matthias helvar haunts them for the rest of their lives. 

they don’t wage a war. they don’t hunt the young fjerdan drüskelle and cut out his heart. but nina, on her voyages in ravka, looks into the eyes of the fjerdan boys she wants to spare—the same as matthias’, but with none of the warmth—and remembers what his blood looked like on her hands. imagines that the blood of these boys would look the same against the snow. listens to the strange new power churning murkily at her fingertips and thinks, it would be so easy. in the darkest parts of the night she wraps herself in furs and imagines he breathes next to her. smiles through her tears and vows revenge not in the form of flesh and bone but in forgiveness —it’s painful, but she tries for him. there has been enough. 

wherever she is, she pretends the lights are for him.

inej remembers the boy who had been taught hate and remembers the kindness he learnt instead. the boy who treated her with respect from the beginning, who found she was a storm and admired her for it. inej thinks of his strength; his unwavering presence and calm in the face of peril. remembers him whenever the ocean breeze brings the scent of snow and ice to her, and when she nestles in the roots of the tree in the garden of the van eck mansion, wondering if he found his god. sees cherry blossoms and thinks of him. 

when the sun rises, and she is the only one on deck, she whispers a prayer. keep him safe. 

the sight of matthias’ corpse is burned into jesper’s memory, awkward and ungainly, lying too still in the barge. he holds wylan a little tighter at night. brushes hair away from inej’s face, tucks his arm against nina’s shoulders, teases kaz. tells his father he loves him with more seriousness than the situation probably deserves. is left feeling hollow and slightly off-balance. jesper thinks of the conversation that seems an age away. ‘my ghost won’t associate with your ghost,’ matthias whispers. first he laughs, but this time, he’s not surprised by the fierce, sudden ache of tears. jesper doesn’t sleep that night. finds solace in a gambling den.

later, he pushes away the cards and storms out. let’s the rain fall on his face. strangely, it tastes like salt. 

wylan finds his hands tremble at strange times. he sees a flash of blond hair and a long stride and whips around, blindly hoping that he defied everything just one more time—but every time it’s a member of the stadwatch, or the appleseller’s son. he knows how many times matthias saved his life, saved jesper’s. saved everyone. he holds it in to the point of breaking, before it rushes out in a flood—i wish i knew him better, he didn’t deserve to die, we were all supposed to make it jes, we were all supposed to make it— 

of everyone, wylan thinks matthias deserved to be happy a little longer. 

and kaz sits alone in his old office at the slat when everyone else is asleep or face-first in their cups. pours himself some whiskey and lets it burn down his throat. drinks a silent toast. an apology. because it’s his fault, isn’t it? they had believed they had won. he had believed. more fool you, he thinks bitterly. watches the birds veer and turn in the sky. knocks ink bottles over another forgery and finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of a broken room. thinks he should have fought a little harder. thinks he shouldn’t have let go so fast.

 no one dares to comment he looks too tired for someone so young. 


far away, on the shores on fjerda, the snow begins to fall heavier and thicker. the wind picks up. 

the wolves howl.

the black brothers: one too soft, the other too hardened.

regulus is nine when he first hears sirius fighting with their parents, railing against their tyranny and prejudice and cruelty. the shouting and smashing frighten him, chase him deep under his covers where he cries silent steady tears until sirius slips into his room hours later and coaxes regulus out of his cocoon, whispering soothing loving words of comfort and fierce apology.

regulus is eleven when he enters hogwarts, excited and wide-eyed at the enthusiastic crush of fellow students laughing and reuniting. after his mother warns him of mudbloods and father reminds him, toujours pur, sirius wrestles him into a headlock, dragging him into a compartment where there are three joking boys–gryffindors–who embrace and welcome regulus into their midst. when regulus sorts slytherin, he glances over at the sea of red and gold, but sirius looks away disappointed, mouth grim, eyes closed, to the beat of regulus’s sinking heart.

regulus is sixteen when he joins the death eaters, swears allegiance to a charismatic lord and band of idealistic brothers. they speak of purity, of justice, of oppression–all familiar cadences to pureblood son regulus–eliminating blood traitors and rewarding the worthy. he is swept up in visions of glory and familial pride, approving mothers and fathers and brothers.

regulus is eighteen when he stands on the edge of a precipice, hands shaking as he drinks and drinks and drinks, kreacher trembling by his side. there are regrets, so many regrets, and as he takes his last gasp, the horcrux safely stowed away, he can almost glimpse sirius smiling tenderly at him from a distant far-off shore, arms wide open and pride shining in his glance.

the black brothers: one too soft, the other too hardened. regulus and sirius, death eater and marauder, slytherin and gryffindor, blood faithful and blood traitor, weak and strong, strong and weak, soft and hard, hard and soft.

Steven Sanders drowned in the ocean a couple of summers ago, not too far from the shore. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he found out shortly thereafter that his spirit was stuck in some kind of a limbo, leaving him completely unable to venture any further than the very beach he had expired on. Luckily, he’d found a hauntingly fun way to keep himself from getting too bored in his afterlife.

He would float around the beach for hours each day looking for the perfect body to hop into. What he was looking for tended to change from day to day, and he’d tried out all kinds of different bodies by now. But today he knew exactly what he was looking for, and he knew that he had found it when this six foot tall muscular stud in a tiny black speedo sauntered onto the sand.

He waited for the stud to sink back into his beach chair and doze off for a little bit under the hot Florida sun. When he was sure that the hunk was relaxed enough, Steven materialized into his slimy ectoplasm form and slithered up into those tight black speedos. He entered through the hunk’s piss slit, comically engorging his cock in the speedos as he forced his way in. He worked his way into the stud’s balls and then deeper and deeper into each one of his smooth, pumped-up muscles until he had completely saturated and fused with them all.

He sat up in the chair, now completely in control of the hunk’s body. He gave his football-sized biceps a flex

“Ohhh yeah!” he exclaimed. His high pitched teenage voice sounded funny coming out of the hunk’s mouth. He cleared his throat and tried speaking again, this time with the hunk’s own bro-like voice, “Nice body, dude!”

聞こえます。。。

Noragami is an anime/manga I’ve gotten in to after much recommendation from others. Such a fun show involving Japanese deities! And of course, I ship Yatori (Yato/Hiyori).

Totally add this show to your “to-watch-list” if you haven’t already. <3

anonymous asked:

Uhm... I-I have a plot bunny for you. Kakashi and Obito where Obito is a water creature of some sort, like a selkie or a siren, and he meets Kakashi when they're both really young. Kakashi has a new best friend, but Sakumo (who knows all about fairies and their tricks, after the naga prince Orochimaru disappeared and broke his heart) is concerned. So, he asks to meet Obito, and is surprised that instead of a tricky fae he's just been tackled into the sand by a hyper child of the sea.

I TOTALLY MEANT THIS TO BE LIKE 600 WORDS WTF. OOPS??


Sakumo is just a little worried, that’s all.

He stands on the porch overlooking the crooked path down to the sea, twisting the chain of the pendant he normally wears around his fingers. It’s a bad habit, and he always thinks he might be loosening the setting, twisting the metal out of shape. Thinks of one day reaching down to touch it and finding the ruby gone, lost forever along the paths he walks. His heart clenches just imagining it, this last gift gone and never to return, just like the sly, beautiful, cunning prince who once pressed it into his hands.

That’s the reason he’s fretting over Kakashi, really. He’s seen the signs—bits of coral, sea glass from far shores, shells that can only be found in the deepest places, pearls larger and brighter than any that land-dwellers can reach without dying in the process. He’s found bits of seaweed in Kakashi’s hair, swept the sand from his room in the mornings when he knows it had been clean the night before. Watched the way he eyes the ocean as it breaks, with something very much like longing.

Sakumo’s sword rests on the chair behind him, cleaned and polished to a mirror shine. He hasn’t carried it with any regularity since Kakashi was born, but he keeps it in repair. There are too many dangers not to, and sometimes he can earn a few coins guarding a traveler on their way. It’s not something he wants to use now, in any way, but if Kakashi’s safety is on the line, he won’t allow himself to do anything less.

He thinks of Orochimaru, of waking one morning to an empty bed and an empty home. It’s impossible to regret any choices that gave him Kakashi, no matter how he still mourns both his wife, a dear friend if nothing else, and the naga prince who stole his heart, but—

But he wants to save Kakashi the grief that he’s felt all these years, of adoring a fey creature with a mind half-full of magic and too many dreams that leave no room for more human kinds of love.

Kakashi is stubborn, smart. He won’t listen to Sakumo, not at first, but Sakumo has to try.

He hears footsteps in the dirt of the path and drags his eyes up from the ruby in his fist. Kakashi a coming, steps light, a smile on his face and a string of fish dangling over one shoulder. They’re not fish that swim anywhere near these shores, but Sakumo smiles regardless, waves to his son, and allows himself to enjoy the way Kakashi lights up a little when he sees him.

“Kakashi,” he says warmly, leaning down to offer a hand up onto the porch, since Kakashi rarely deigns to approach from the front and use the stairs. “Did you have a good day?”

“It was decent,” Kakashi says decisively. There’s a flower tucked behind his ear, one the grows near the mouth of the river that empties into the sea. It’s a fair distance from the house, and worry twinges at Sakumo’s chest again. Too far for him to hear a call for help, should it come.

When he manages to wrestle the feeling under control, Kakashi is watching, dark eyes faintly narrowed. “Are you okay, Dad?” he asks, tipping his head. “You look like a constipated frog.”

There’s nothing in the world better for the ego, Sakumo thinks wryly, than having children. “I’m fine, cub. Just—wondering if you’ll ever introduce my to your new friend.”

Kakashi blinks, but doesn’t bother asking how he knows. For a brief second, he glances down at the ruby pendant Sakumo is holding, then away, and says with perfect disinterest, “If I’d known you wanted to meet an idiot like him, I would have introduced you weeks ago.”

An idiot? Sakumo raises a brow, but doesn’t try to argue; this is already more of a concession than he expected, honestly. “Well, maybe I was waiting for you to bring him up,” he says mildly, tries to inject it with the crushing parental disapproval via sigh that his own mother always used to devastating effect, and apparently doesn’t do too badly given the way Kakashi winces.

“It wasn’t a secret,” his son tells him witheringly. “And besides, I don’t have to tell you everything.”

Sometimes, Sakumo is absolutely, entirely certain that he won’t survive Kakashi’s teenage years. If he’s already like this at seven, there’s no hope left at all.

“No,” he agrees, and keeps his tone light. “Of course you don’t. But I like knowing about what makes you happy, Kakashi.”

There’s a long pause as Kakashi stares at him, evaluating his sincerity. Then he nods once, decisively, and says, “He should still be near the beach, because he’s a loser who never gets anywhere on time. You can meet him now.” He hurries inside, leaving the door swinging, to lay the fish on the counter, and Sakumo takes the opportunity to belt his sword around his waist and clasp his pendant back around his neck. Kakashi will notice it—Kakashi notices everything, much to his chagrin—but he probably won’t say anything.

Then the rapid footsteps are back, and Kakashi takes a flying leap off the porch to land in the sun-gold grass. “Come on, Dad,” he says impatiently, looking like he’s going to dart back and start tugging at Sakumo’s belt the way he did when he was younger. “Before he leaves!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sakumo protests, stepping down and following Kakashi’s path as he hurries back down the hill. Ignoring the track, Kakashi takes the shortcut across the stream, then down the steepest part of the incline, and hits the dune well ahead of Sakumo, who isn’t quite reduced to running just yet. He watches his son disappear around the edges of the dune, and when he rounds it Kakashi is already halfway to the water, though he’s finally walking again.

“Idiot!” Kakashi calls, pitched to annoy, impatient as anything, and Sakumo strangles a groan. The very least Kakashi could do not to get killed by a magical creature would be refraining from insulting it, so of course throwing around insults is the very first thing Kakashi does. It’s probably how he introduced himself, knowing him.

“I’m not an idiot, you jerk!” a voice shouts back. Young, Sakumo thinks with some surprise as he scans the water. There’s a flash of iridescent scales among the waves, and the next time one breaks it leaves a shape behind. A long, looping tail, dark blue with a sheen of orange-gold scattered throughout, flared, feathery fins streaked with the same colors, pale skin, dark hair chopped short. A siren boy, just pulling himself up on the sand, and the soldier in Sakumo is assessing, calculating, weighing the risk of a child who clearly hasn’t even managed to change forms yet.

The rest of Sakumo wonders what a siren boy, so young and without mastery of his own power, is doing alone on the surface, far, far away from any siren chorales.

Then he turns, pushing himself up to sit as he twists to face Kakashi, and Sakumo’s eyes track over the deep scars all up and down his right side. Cold certainty sets into his bones, and he releases the hilt of his sword as if it’s burned him. Sirens are vain to a fault, and scarred chorale members are usually driven out.

Gods, but how long has this boy been alone, cast out and thinking himself unwanted?

Kakashi and the siren are still bickering when Sakumo makes his way over to them, and it sounds angry and cutting and irritated, but Sakumo knows his son better than that. Kakashi looks fond, and even if Sakumo doesn’t know the other boy, he’s fairly sure that light in his eyes is the very furthest thing from hate.

“—wouldn’t have bothered,” Kakashi is just huffing when Sakumo nears. “But my dad wanted to meet you, and he’s the only reason I—”

“Your dad?” the siren interrupts, and his dark eyes are wide with excitement, clearly not taking any of Kakashi’s bluster to heart. “He wanted to meet me?”

“Of course I did,” Sakumo says lightly, and smiles as both boys jerk around to look at him.

“So slow,” Kakashi complains, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dad this is Obito. He’s an idiot, so don’t listen to anything he says.”

Sakumo rolls his eyes, just a little, but crouches down so that Obito won’t have to crane his neck looking up at him. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says warmly, watching those black eyes widen, and gods, the boy is adorable. Especially for a flesh-eating, sailor-drowning monster of the depths, but, well. No one’s perfect, and if Obito hasn’t drowned Kakashi yet the world at large is probably safe. On instinct, he reaches out, ruffling wet hair a little, and offers, “Would you like me to carry you up the hill so you can eat dinner with us? Those fish—you must be the one who caught them, right?”

Without warning, Sakumo’s arms are suddenly full of wet skin and slick scales as a baby siren wraps his arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. Sakumo overbalances, too startled to make a sound, but Obito doesn’t let go; if anything he clings tighter, and says in a tone that’s close to desperate, “Thank you! Yes! Yes, I really, really want to!”

Sakumo chuckles, picking himself up out of the sand. “Of course. The least I could do for someone who caught us such a fine dinner,” he says lightly. He gets an arm around Obito’s back, the other underneath the glittering tail, and hefts him up.

The fin still curls on the ground, and he hesitates, not wanting to drag it through the prickly grass, but before he can say anything Kakashi heaves a disgusted sigh and stalks over, hefting the feathery end up in his arms. “Can we just get this over with?” he demands, though Sakumo can see his cheeks are a little flushed.

“Bakashi,” Obito complains, flicking his tail slightly, and Kakashi makes a deeply offended noise as it slaps him in the face.

Sakumo hides a grin. That’s certainly not how he and Orochimaru interacted. And…maybe it’s selfish of him, but he’s a little glad Obito doesn’t have a chorale to go back to, that he’s alone. Maybe he won’t disappear on Kakashi just when he thinks their happiness is assured.

Before he can ask how in the world they met, small fingers are at his throat, touching the ruby there lightly. There’s a soft sound of wonder, and Obito looks up at him, expression startled. “This is the same necklace the trapped prince is wearing,” he says. “How does a human have it?”

Sakumo would swear his heart entirely stops beating.

Trapped?” he croaks when he can finally manage to draw even a partial breath again.

Obito tips his head, like the question confuses him. “Yeah. He’s been sleeping at the bottom of the forest river since before I was born. My selkie friend says her mom told her there was a battle with the sea witch Danzō, and an earth goddess and holy monk helped the prince but even though they defeated Danzō he trapped them in the forest.”

Nine years. Nine years Orochimaru has been trapped and sleeping and waiting to be rescued, so close at hand, but—Sakumo hadn’t known.

He looks towards the forest, a dark shadow on the horizon, and takes a breath.

Well. It looks like his sword is going to see a bit of use after all.

Experiences I Share and Remember with Each Sign

Aries: Going to the mall just to eat in the food court, fighting monthly but making up quickly, talking on the phone for hours, Riding the subway from one end of the city to the other just for fun.

Taurus: Laughing so hard in restaurants and having the waiter overhear, buying matching friendship rings, walking in the empty mall after hours, watching a horror movie and getting paranoid on the subway home. 

Gemini: Listening to our favourite songs together. Walking them home after they got sick. Gossiping about anything and everything, missioning across the city for greek food.

Cancer: Getting breakfast before school, walking our dogs, playing soccer one on one, taking the bus late at night and walking each other home

Leo: Working the late shifts, helping them to spring clean their house, going for Saturday runs, swimming in the ocean far from the beach shore line and having to go back because I got scared.   

Virgo: Going horse back riding, singing our songs, going to the soccer stadium, practicing piano together.  

Libra: Talking all throughout class time and having to get separated, having roast wars, going to the gym to workout separately , fighting and then crying to each other after. 

Scorpio Trying fast food and getting sick after, convincing them that astrology is real, calling each other after one of us has a bad day, throwing them a surprise party. 

Sagittarius: Going to the pool just for them to swim for 5 minutes, Hitting up the cottage every summer. Going to my first concert with them. Binge watching our newest show in a weekend.

Capricorn: Walking 8 km just talking, getting coffee and catching up, having them show me their neighbourhood and the best restaurants in it. Reading tarot cards for them and vice versa. 

Aquarius: LISTENING TO MUSIC 24/7, roasting our law teacher in quiet, Having battles of who is the most stubborn, facetiming to work on projects we procrastinated until the last minute for.

Pisces: DRINKING COFFEE and staying up until 4am, sending each other new songs we discover that we liked. sitting in the park all day long, Going for walks late at night.

frankenstein poem

-playlist on shuffle

-make a free-verse poem using the first line of the first song, the second line of the second song, etc. etc. until you reach song five or six, that seems about long enough.

-alternately just take the first line of each song, whatever’s easier for you my dude

ex: “take me for a ride, I’m the one you pushed aside
it’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on
she loves the sea and her people
at the same time, at the same time
the sun is down and we’re bound to get exhausted and so far from the shore”

-profit???

-actually these could be interesting writing/art prompts

Saltwater: Bucky x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: You have a secret while being able to control water, every time you touch salt water, you transform into a mermaid. You’ve done a good job keeping it a secret from Bucky, but will a new mission jeopardize your secret? 

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I watched Splash and this is what happened…

Requests are open!

Originally posted by makoislandgifs

It was a normal day in the Avengers tower, everyone was preparing for their next missions. They got Intel that Crossbones was building underwater bombs. So Steve decided to have Y/N and Bucky find where they were.  Bucky was sitting in the lab with Tony, trying to waterproof his new prototype arm. He glanced at the glass lab in front of him, he saw Banner and Y/N arguing over beakers of water. She had the ability to control water, why would they argue over it?

Y/N caught the super soldier staring at her, while normally she did like the attention from the man, today was a different story. She marched to the window and pulled the curtain shut so no one could see. “What’s her deal?” Bucky asked. 

“Some water stuff, I don’t know…I let banner deal with the water magic,” Tony shrugged, taking the screwdriver out of his arm. 

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