sixteen hundreds

Day One Hundred and Sixteen

-At the start of my shift, we had a team huddle to discuss store business matters. The first matter, and most important, was us all sampling the new Unicorn Frappuccino. A quality meeting, if I have ever been to one.

-An elderly woman remarked to me that it smelled like something was burning and asked if someone had burned popcorn. As a result, she spent the remainder of the transaction cackling to herself. If she thought that her joke was a funny one, I believe I may have finally found a good audience for my comedy.

-A Chubby Puppy wind-up toy was left at my register. I have named her Juniper and I love her, inability to walk in anything but a circle and all.

-In regards to the card reader before him, an older gentleman noted, “This seems like a pretty nice keyboard. I think I can solve it.” He inspires a great deal of faith in me. I think he can solve it, too.

-An older woman asked me if anything that she had purchased was on Cartwheel. I told her that I did not know off the top of my head, at which point she responded by glaring at me threateningly and telling me that I looked smart, so I had better be sure and I had better be right. Luckily, I know very few things in life, so it is more than likely that Cartwheel offers fall into this category.

-A couple bantered over how much they had each spent. The woman, having bought the most, said, “It makes sense, you are cheaper than me.” After a moment, the man replied, “I’m trying to think of something to say, but you drove and you’re paying.” Not since Machiavelli has one held all of the cards so masterfully.

-A sweet grandfatherly man, sporting a pinstripe shirt that seemed to have been with him as long as his timeless smile, came through holding a purple and yellow rubber ball. He asked me if I thought it would be good for four square before pausing for a moment and asking me if I knew what four square is. Overjoyed when I said yes, he told me of his plans to teach the neighborhood kids and help them be more active. He then said that he was going to go let his friends know that the ball would work. I later saw him with a pair of women, each as happy and smiling as himself. This man knows all that one needs in life, and I hope to one day learn from him.

-A young girl noted Juniper by my register and asked if she could pet her. I naturally said yes, as long as she was careful. Gently cupping the pup in her hands, she complimented me on how soft my plastic friend was.

surprise

I like to think Matthew Brown’s primary kills are always originated with ‘sneak attacks’. 

Like a hawk out of sight, looming around his prey to watch them until he’s ready to strike and take. Dead in the water {or other means of environment}. He never really faces them initially. Because he doesn’t just want to see the shock of not being alone, but also see their waking realization that they’re about to die. To gauge their reaction. Whatever it is, he’s digging for and finding his entertainment in it. 

He’s like a predator that prefers waiting for his kill to bleed out slower rather than quicker. A leech to the flesh.  

‘I didn’t fall in love, I was thrown into it’ - prompt from the lovely @sfjessii!

i’ve never really written the alec + maryse dynamic so i apologize if this came out totally shit 💜

“I should be home in a few hours. I’m sorry; it seems like it’s becoming a common trend to miss dinner.”

“Don’t worry, Alexander; I understand. You’ve got an entire Institute resting on those lovely, broad shoulders of yours.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“I’ll be here.” Magnus’ tone was bright and cheerful, and though it was undeniably an exaggeration purely for his benefit, Alec appreciated it.

“I miss you,” he murmured, his tone warm and dripping sincerity like honey from his lips.

“I’ve been counting down the minutes since you called,” Magnus mused. “We’re down to one hundred and sixteen by my calculations.”

Leaning against the stained glass window, tracing the ridges in the glass with his thumb, Alec smiled to himself. “I think we can manage that.”  He paused, wanting just a moment to indulge in relishing the warm feeling blooming in his chest. With a soft sigh of disdain, he said with displeasure, “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Until then, Mr. Lightwood,” Magnus teased, his tone lowered an octave in faux solemnity.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Just as Alec pulled the phone away from his ear, there was a soft knock on the door of his office. Maryse peeked her head in, one hand on the door. “Is now a bad time?”

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A Hundred Lesser Faces: Sixteen
  • Section One {A Hundred Lesser Faces} what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh? :  [(One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six) (Seven)
  • Section Two {A Hundred More}, the aftermath of Claire and Jamie’s reunion, following their journey as they work to build a new life together [(Eight) (Nine) (Ten) (Eleven) (Twelve) (Thirteen) (Fourteen) ]
  • Section Three {Begin and Tell}, Now with EVEN MOAR AFTERMATH! [(Fifteen) ]

Sixteen 


“Oh Jesus, Claire, I’ve been—I thought ye were—I canna believe—”

I yelped as Jenny, oblivious to my injured arm (Jesus, maybe I had fractured something), flung both her own around me, kneeling before me in the road and clinging like she would never, ever let go, gasping. “He isna—The marriage isna happy—The bairns are no’ his—He’s—Oh, God—Claire! Ye came back!”

I didn’t push her away. I didn’t even move, come to that. I was too bloody stunned to do anything except sit like a stone, arms pinned to my sides, absolutely dumbfounded as the words poured out of my tiny sister-in-law in frantic sobs. 

“Jamie, he—he read your letter and went straight after ye—Ran out wi’ his soul afire but it was —Each day that’s passed, I kent deeper and deeper in my heart that he’d lost ye for good and that it was all my FAULT and—Oh my God….” 

This last was a whimper as she held me tighter and fell completely to pieces against my shoulder. “I’m—so—sorry—Claire,” I heard faintly as she shook. “So—verra—Even before I told Jamie, all the day before he arrived, it was eatin’ me alive wi’ SHAME, and

I managed to pry her loose and hold her back by the wrists to look her in the eye. A creature more different than the cold, vicious woman who had sent me away from Lallybroch three weeks ago could scarcely be imagined. There were deep, dark circles under her eyes, and she looked as though she’d lost a frightening amount of weight in a short time. She looked pale, thin, and utterly defeated. There was no steel of biting judgement in those Fraser eyes, now, no seething poisonous anger—just an open wound of regret and relief, from which her jumble of half-coherent thoughts kept running out in bursts. 

“I tried to tell him—tell Jamie—how truly sorry I—but he wouldna—He was so angry wi’ me, Claire—blazin’ and—ANIMAL wi’ rage and—” She shuddered, violently, the panic written in every line and twitching muscle. “ — and he had every right, but—And then he was gone, so sudden-like, burstin’ out the door after ye — Ridin’ like he’d race to hell to get ye back—But he kent ye might already be lost, forever, ag — again, and—” She sobbed harder. “And I didna have the chance to make him hear how sorry—How much I hated mys — HATE myself for—” 

“Jenny?” 

She flinched at the word as violently as if I’d slapped her, though I’d spoken it with painstaking gentleness, scarcely more than a whisper. In fact, I felt almost beatifically calm. Between Jamie’s recent fury and Jenny’s obvious devastation over what she’d done, my own rage and need for revenge seemed very distant in my heart, at present. It was shocking, honestly, how steady I felt in asking it, as though I were only mildly curious: “Just tell me why.” 

“I was angry,” Jenny said at once, the words tumbling out in a choked, breathy rush. “Angry that ye’d left us wi’out a word—left Jamie alone.

That much I’d known already, but I couldn’t ignore the need to be justified. “Jenny, I didn’t lea

“I know.” She took my face in both her hands, and for the first time in all the years I’d known her, I felt like the smaller of us. Her eyes were soft with sorrow, wide with the need to be heard. “I do ken it, Claire. Or…rather….I believe ye— that there must be more to things than they seem. I trust your word.” 

There was such sincerity in her eyes, such tenderness and love in her touch, that I felt my throat tighten—at the sheer childlike relief of having this woman’s warm light stretched out to cover me at last, after such a devastating first reunion. Still….I couldn’t simply forget. 

“Why couldn’t you believe it then?” Still calm, my voice, but it trembled as I struggled to suppress my own tears. “When I was telling you so to your face—why couldn’t you trust in me, then?”  

She had withdrawn her hands and closed her eyes at the first question, lips pursed, head bowed, like a convicted offender, submitting to the axe.  I didn’t think she was going to answer at all, but then a small voice—

“Maybe I was jealous.” 

 “….Of me?” 

“Aye.” 

For one blazing moment of disgust, all thought of tears vanished, and I wondered if I could take back every single word to Jamie about the necessity of reconciliation. If this woman was honestly mad enough to begrudge a brother’s love toward his wife—

But I saw her expression as she struggled to catch her breath to speak, and my heart quieted at once.

“Not only do ye appear out of the clear blue sky, Claire—after so many long years, but ye show up lookin’ all— so — ” She gestured helplessly to my person. “So damned beautiful and young and healthy and—And life has clearly been far kinder to ye than it had been for us, and….When I saw ye in the dooryard— I could feel it in my body, ken? As though it were a fire, set off at the edges of my mind, burnin’ up my decency and compassion and—Christ, all my good sense, and — I kent it was wicked …. heartless….. but I couldna help meself.”

“And that—that jealousy,” I said carefully, still levelly, with no scorn, “was enough to make you want to take Jamie away from me? Me away from him?” 

“Yes — NO! — No, it wasna—I canna—It was EVERYTHIN’, Claire! All of it together! And perhaps most of all, there was the fact that — ” She looked up at the sky as though for help, a little moan of despair escaping her lips. “I’d been the one to push Jamie into the damned marriage in the first place, see? ME. And I’d kent even then that it wasna blessed. I saw your own fetch at the weddin’, for Bride’s sake, and I was fool enough to ignore it, and—And if ye’d come back, now, it would mean I’d been wrong to have him go through wi’ it, when I’d been given plain warning from above, and the GUILT of it—” She heaved a breath to choke down the rising panic, and I had to give her credit for looking me dead in the eye as she said it. “I made up my mind that it was better to act as though ye’d never been there. I‘d bury the the letter and no one would be any the wiser….It was reckless, shortsighted….cruel….I was lookin’ after my own selfish heart….I did ye both so much wrong, unforgivably…I’ll never stop tryin’ to make it right…if ye’ll let me.” 

The shame of admission hung heavy on her shoulders. I could see it, weighing her down like a cross, all those wrongs. Anger. Indignant rage. Petty resentment run amok. Crippling guilt. Didn’t I know the power of those things, too? To wound and damage?

I reached out and took her hand, squeezing. 

She looked up at me at once, eyes still brimming, clinging to the tentative hope my touch promised. “Everything can be well again, Claire, I swear it. Ye came back, and once he kens it, Jamie will put aside Laoghaire at once, I know he—OH!” 

Before I could interrupt and tell her that I knew, she was standing and trying to pull me to my feet, too. “We’ll go after him, together, at once! I’ll leave a message for the family in town and we’ll ride until we find him. Ye’ve no idea—NONE—how overjoyed he’ll be to see—” 

“Jenny—Jenny, stop!” I gasped. She was so alight with the fire of promised action, redemption, that she didn’t notice I was resisting, nor that she was hurting me. Yes, I must have had a hairline fracture or some sort of damage beyond bruising, for my vision was going black around the edges as I tried to get free of her grip. “Jenny, there’s no need! Jamie and I—”

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

Jenny jumped, and though Jamie’s shout had startled me as much as her, I was also deeply touched to see that her immediate reflex was to shield me, flinging her arms out wide to face the attacker. 

When she realized who it was, though, saw him leaping down from the horse, she started sobbing harder and was running toward him, flying on a wind of breathtaking joy. “JAMIE! Oh, Ja—”

But he brushed past her as though she weren’t even there, leaving her standing in the road. 

“What has she done to ye, mo chridhe?” he demanded as he dropped to his knees next to me, hands jarring more than gentling in his haste to check me over. His voice was urgent but cold in his alarm. “She hurt ye?” 

“I’m fine,” I panted, “just landed on my shoulder, but I’m fine. An accident” 

“I heard the screams—and you’re bleeding,” he said, voice still frighteningly alien, and sure enough, the fingers he brushed over my hairline had blood on them. “What did she do?” he demanded again. 

“She didn’t do it on purpose,” I said at once, “the horse got spooked and threw me and—It was a complete accident, Jamie, truly, Jenny didn’t—”

“Ye’d—already—found him?”

Both our heads swiveled to watch the hoarse, broken voice. Jenny was surveying the pair of us with such a symphony of emotion and realization moving over her face and body, it was both beautiful and painful to witness. “Oh, God be praised,” she whispered, crossing herself, beaming beneath her sobs. “Jamie, mo chridhe—Ye found her in time!” 

Her barely-contained joy drained ounce by ounce as Jamie stood.

“Tell me what it is you’re doing here, Janet.” His voice was deathly quiet. Dangerous. “Why it is ye came to encounter my wife today and cause her harm.” 

She was pale, but determined. “I was on my way to visit Maggie, and just happened to come across her on the path and—Jamie, I tried to tell ye at the house,” she blurted suddenly, stepping toward him as though she couldn’t control her own body. “How sorry I was. I meant it, trul— Jamie? JAMIE, stop this moment, where are ye going?”

For the moment she’d confirmed that our meeting had been pure coincidence, Jamie had turned to help me to my feet, ushering me firmly toward the horses. 

“Jamie, ye canna go!” Jenny was begging. “Wait!”

“Jamie, wait,” I echoed, panting, head spinning in more ways than one as Jamie helped me get my foot into the stirrup. “W—” 

“Ye must stay and hear me out!” Jenny was hovering at Jamie’s elbow as he lifted me bodily up into the saddle. She was getting more desperate with every word. “Ye canna turn your back on me like this, brother! Ye must—”

He whirled and she leapt backward. “Tell me what it is, precisely, that I MUST do for your sake, Janet.” 

From my forced vantage point in the saddle, I had a clear view of the heartbreaking scene on the roadway. Jamie, enraged, drawn up to his full height, like a bear about to attack; Jenny, ten feet away but all but cowering before him, eyes tight-shut, lips pursed and shaking, waiting for the slicing of claws. He would never physically harm her, I would have sworn to that; but there were sharp edges in his voice, and no mistaking them, deadly enough to slice and maim, leaving permanent scars. 

“Would I EVER have kept Ian from ye so?” His teeth were clenched tight, as were his shaking fists. “Would I EVER have turned him away? Your very heart, the breath of your body? Shunned him at the door, as though he were worthy of less hospitality than a stranger? Wi’out a thought for your heart or happiness, let alone his?”

“No…ye wouldna….Never could ye have done such a terrible thing……No decent person…” She was sobbing again; it was a wonder she was able to speak at all. “But Jamie, mo chridhe, listen to me, let me apol—”

“Ye LIED to her!” Jamie bellowed, lunging a step forward before he could stop himself. “Deliberately deceived her into believing me happy with Laoghaire—” this he spat with the utmost contempt, “then let hour upon HOUR pass upon my arrival before telling me a GODDAMNED word about her having been there! That there was still a chance I could catch her!” 

“I’m so—” 

“It came down to a matter of MOMENTS, woman—the difference between reaching Claire in time and losing her forever. Had ye waited two minutes longer to tell me, it would have been as though you’d slit her throat before my eyes. And I dinna think I shall ever be able to look upon ye and see aught but that very knife in your hand. The fact that I caught her in the end doesna change what ye meant to do—what ye did—to me.” He leaned forward and snarled, contempt and hatred in every syllable. “So tell me what it is I MUST do, this day. What I owe you.”

“What I did—was—wrong—Evil,” Jenny gasped out, coughing and struggling to get enough breath, “I kent it then, and I ken it now. I’ve scarcely eaten nor slept since ye left to go after her, nor been able to leave my bed for the shame of it—But ye found one another,” she gasped out again, trying to smile and move slowly toward him. “God restored your true heart to ye at last, despite my terrible actions.” She was nearly close enough to touch him, and she reached up to lay a hand on his cheek. “I’ll do anythin’, whatever ye demand for the rest of my life—to make it right wi’ ye both, mo chr—”

He turned his back before she could touch him, and was mounted on his horse the next moment, turning us in the direction Broch Morda. 

“Jamie,” she moaned, both arms clutching round herself, as if they didn’t know what else to do. “Please.” 

“Jamie, wait,” I said quietly, but then stopped. I knew that now was not the time for forcing rapprochement, but my heart was absolutely breaking for both brother and sister. But I had to say something, to give him one more chance to stay. “Aren’t you going to Balriggan? To settle with L—?”

“Not today.” He kicked up and galloped off toward town without a backward glance.

I did look back, though, and the look on Jenny’s face as she crumpled haunted me long past the time she disappeared from view over my shoulder. 


Seven rooms in an infinite library

1. The room that has slowly grown back into trees and skin. The trees have not yet shed their ink so you can enter into their crumbly trunks and read most of their secrets still, although you will need a torch and some patience and to know the right song to open the tree back up should it slam shut on you. The skin is mostly confused; it has formed back into limp, meatless cows which flap in the breeze from the air conditioning unit.
2. The toilet. Legend has it that there is only one toilet in the library; it is merely very busy in space and time. This is why there is always the same dog-eared book of cartoons on the shelf. Enterprising explorers have been known to stash energy bars in the cistern for emergency retrieval once lost in the booky depths.
3. The room you get into by opening that very small book on the bottom shelf and reaching your hand into the hole on page twelve to flip up the latch in the room beyond, after which you can open up the large book on the stand and enter through any of the doors on pages six, twenty-eight or one hundred and sixteen at your leisure. I do not know what is in that room, because my hand is too big for the hole in the small book. But yours may be smaller.
4. The large large print romances section. No, larger than that. Larger than that, too. It is not so much an area for the partially-sighted as a lobby for massive letters to hang around in, posing and slouching and occasionally making words, but mostly making out with each other. At least one of them is probably a colossal squid and not a letter at all, but every time it faces suspicion it covers itself in ink and that will do, for this place at least.
5. A room of propaganda. It has a number of entrances; based on certain aspects of your appearance and personality, the librarian will recommend an entrance for you if you want to first be exposed to propaganda only against them and not you. But the room is so designed that you can always look up and see them as they sit and read texts about you. Given the vast asymmetry in the amounts of propaganda available, its geometry is a marvel to behold.
6. The room where they keep the books that you write in your dreams (not the ones you would like to write; the ones that you write in your dreams). You may not remember the dreams, but there they are. It is a round room with one great spiral shelf, starting with the tiny books you wrote in infancy and progressing onwards and upwards through taller and thicker tomes. There is a ladder, should you need one. You are not sure if they stop at now or not.
7. A room of infinities and of their puzzles and paradoxes. Perhaps surprisingly, this is right at the entrance of the library. Of course, the way back out from there is infinitely long. There is a sign stating this at the entrance of the room and for some reason, perhaps some slavish devotion to conventional notions of space and time that we in the library have quite transcended, nobody takes it seriously enough. Anyhow, there is a mirror in there where you can find your other sibling, the one who always when you never and vice versa and so on.

Thanks for three thousand five hundred (and sixteen!) followers! You people asked for bishie yaoi-hands Kraglin and delicate uke Yondu, and you damn well got them. I hope you’re pleased with yourselves.

Special mentions to @fournostril for bribing me with sugar, and to @part-time-ravager for reacting to the drafts I sent him with appropriate horror.

The Braves - Chapter 1.

Today is a very special day.

It’s @titaniasfics birthday.

Everybody knows what she did for the fandom, how she helped, beta-ed, encouraged so many of us, how she believed in us, every single day.

So today, please, let’s join into celebrating her.

My dear C, here is for you … the WW2 story I told you about.

@akai-echo just surpassed herself with the banner (it’s so perfect !!!) and @dandelion-sunset did the beta-ing part :)


Un très joyeux anniversaire !!!

With love!

THE BRAVES

Chapter 1.

“God not only plays dice, he also sometimes throws the dice where they cannot be seen.” Stephen Hawkings.

April 1942, Panem, France.

Rain was falling heavily on the trees, clicking on the roofs, echoing in the streets of the town, soaking the man’s shirt.

But he couldn’t move.

One single move, and the sentinel standing closeby would undoubtedly see him.

He just couldn’t get caught.

There were barely two hundred meters left to reach Peeta’s house, to get to the safety of his home. Two hundred meters, but they were always the longest and most dangerous.

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Powder Keg - Ch 4

Welcome back, everlarkers! Last week’s gripping installment of Powder Keg found our heroine, Katniss, reluctantly sharing ski school duties with Peeta, her nemesis. And though she might have found a loophole to get out of spending the entire day with him you, everlarkers, kiboshed that idea and voted for them to work together.

What happens next? Does Katniss shove our cinnamon bun off the chairlift? Are the slopes not the only thing frozen at Mt. Mockingjay? Let’s find out! This week’s chapter was written by the lovely and talented @thegirlfromoverthepond

As always, you have 48 hours to vote, until noon, Wednesday, November the 29th. Remember, vote in the comments or reblogs, not in the tags! And as always, share with your friends, more voices = more fun! Ready? Here we go…



I should have called Gale. I would have made up for ruining his day off by giving him half of my days off. I would even have taken over teaching the old lady from the Capitol, the one he desperately wants to get rid of. I should have. But it’s too late now.

We’ve been on the bunny hill for two hours, and it’s obvious I can’t teach to save my life. I’ve always known that I don’t have much patience for little kids. I just didn’t need Peeta to be the one shoving it down my throat.

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School Days Pt. 5 (Losers Club/Reader)

Originally posted by to-obsessed

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

(A/N: Also very Stan/Reader leaning in this part. It be like that sometimes. If this sucks it’s because I suck, actually. I’d rather die than proofread this so come eat the hell)

Summary: The Losers Club meets the reader and Stan at his house for an emergency meeting.

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Someone tell me about all the ridiculous things that have happened behind the scenes at a Viktor Nikiforov photoshoot

I’ll start:

There’s a spread in Teen Vogue from when Viktor was eighteen and he looks very chic and youthful in a cashmere cardigan over a loose linen top and his hair is all carefully combed over one shoulder and he’s looking out a window onto a view of St. Petersburg

Just out of frame, he’s wearing spongebob pajama pants and the window is actually a giant poster that someone bought at a novelty giftshop for sixteen hundred rubles.

anonymous asked:

Hey have you got any good kbtbb or her love in the force fan fictions to recommend that you like?

BOI do I have recs for you, anon!

Sadly though, I don’t really play HLITF, but I do have a bunch of recs for KBTBB! I had to dig through my archives from way back lmao. Eisuke’s my bias, so most of my recs are for him lmao this might as well be an Eisuke fic rec. I hope you don’t mind lol:

  • Ota reencountering MC years after she broke up with him while pregnant  (A N G S T) by @oasisofmyheart - A N G S T fucking g a l o r e . I used to dislike Ota a lot, but this fic convinced me otherwise. I love all of her works, but this one has a special place in my heart because it shows a different facet of Ota that the game never really explores. God, after I read this fic (and the succeeding parts), I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks, man. The writing, plot, characterization, hell, everything is A+. This is my favorite Ota fic of all time. Legit, I want to frame this fic above my bed, and Ota’s not even my main bias lmao
  • You’re Late (Fluff) by @zaizenakiyoshi - This is written in Eisuke’s perspective and I love it because the author shows just how in love Eisuke is with MC. God, like she even includes snippets into Eisuke’s insecurities and fears (which I love to see). I’m a sucker for his internal monologue, and this fic gives it justice.
  • The Shivers Down His Spine (Smut. And the good kind, too) by @unofficialvoltagestories - I don’t think it’s a stretch of me to say that a good number of fics in the KBTBB fandom are smut. Also, 90% of the time, Eisuke smut fics feature him as the dominant one in bed. This fic, however, shows Eisuke letting MC take control and it is g l o r i o u s (legit, there was a part where MC made him moan in pleasure, and I had to scream into my pillow because holy fuck). The fic is sexy, but not too raunchy. Romantic, but not too cheesy. In other words, the perfect balance of sexiness and sweetness in a smut fic. This is probably my favorite KBTBB smut fic to date. 
  • Prompt #32 “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified. (Angst) by @voltage-alternatives - Good god, this fic, man. Another thing I’m a sucker for: vulnerable Eisuke. I don’t know if it’s just me, but I think it’s rare to see fics that explore his vulnerability. This one got to me because it shows how Eisuke tries to keep his walls up around MC because he’s too afraid to love, but they ultimately fall when MC reassures him she won’t leave him my weakness
  • His Best Friend’s Sister  (Fluff) by @elletxt - Finally, a Soryu fic lmao. So aside from being the best Soryu fic I’ve ever read, this fic explores Soryu and Eisuke’s friendship (which, I think, is rarely touched upon in fics). It’s also refreshing to see how dedicated Eisuke is to his family (despite being hilariously childish about it). I mean, where else can you see Eisuke making Soryu dick-shaped omelets out of spite???
  • The Five Times Eisuke’s Daughter Broke His Heart  (ANGST, PAIN, SUFFERING) by @retrogradeus - This one just fucking killed me and burned my corpse to ashes. Eisuke being a father is a topic I love seeing in fics, and this portrayal is just heartbreaking because it shows Eisuke, despite not being the best parent, still trying his best for his daughter. The last line of the fic utterly destroyed me. I legit almost cried, and I’d like to think I have Balls of Steel lmao I guess not
  • You (Angst) by @valogirl - The angstiest group fic I’ve read to date. She perfectly captures each of the bidders’ emotions and feelings for MC. The fact that they all loved her in their own ways, even after her death, will always get to me. Plus the flower meanings she included made it 100x more painful :’)))
  • Hello, Daddy pt.1 | 2 (Fluff) by @chemistrythings - I read this one a long, long time ago, but I’ll never forget this one because Eisuke’s such a big dork here. Kudos to the author because she perfectly captures the childishly dorky side of his character without going OOC at all (which I think is really difficult to pull off). Also, props to her for making one of my favorite portrayals of MC.
  • Don’t Run Away (Horror- Warning: dark themes, gore, yandere) by @logiebo - THIS FIC MAN OH BOY. From time to time, I enjoy a good darkfic. I think I’ve said this before, but Eisuke’s character is so deliciously complex that it wouldn’t be completely far-fetched to see him as a yandere (if I’m being honest, I’ve considered writing a yandere fic for a while lmao). I mean, wow. This fic is intense, but intriguing.  
  • I Am Afraid of the Light (ANGST AND ETERNAL PAIN) by @2bedroom-baddestbidderlove - Shit, man. Like, the way she set up the whole fic, with Eisuke silently pining for MC, only for the plot twist to kill me in the end—ouch. It’s a songfic, and the lyrics just twist the knife in my heart… god, man. Also, her writing style blows me away because it’s so wistful, yet so on point. I’m in love with her characterization of Eisuke.
  • Voice (F L U F F ) by @maidofstars - Ah, another thing I’m an absolute sucker for—sweet Eisuke. The fic is short and simple, but it perfectly captures the depth of his love for MC. Like, the whole idea of using voice as a metaphor for his feelings just shot me in the heart, man. God, I love this one so much.
  • Letter two hundred and sixteen (ANGST :’)))) by @bolt8826 - Since I’m an unapologetic sadist who likes seeing (and making) Eisuke suffer, this fic is up there with all my other favorites. I mentioned this a million times, but I love seeing fics from his perspective because they make him seem more real, you know? Also, seeing Eisuke regret his actions to MC is a fucking A+++ for me.

And there you have it! These fics are all A+++ in every department (writing, grammar, characterization, plot, tone), and that’s something considering how nitpicky I am when I read fics (legit, I have way too much pet peeves omg).

katsadako  asked:

How big is Songbird? Like, in terms of height and/or wingspan? I had a look around the bioshock wikis but couldn't see specifics anywhere :/

Well, lets’ start by breaking down the available references: i.e, how he compares to the human he’s around- namely, Elizabeth. On the wiki, she’s listed as being 5′6. Ignoring the fact that she spends almost the entire game and DLC in heels, albeit modest ones, we’ll take 5′6 as her base height. 

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“<All I’m saying is think of how cool it would be,> Marco pleaded. <We morph racehorses ->

<I don’t think so, Marco,> Jake said.

<- then, using our human abilities we figure out if we think we can win, and the others put money down.>

<Not happening, Marco,> Rachel said.

<We start out betting whatever we have saved. Like I have about twenty dollar. But if we bet that at say, three-to-one odds, before you know it ->

<Marco, forget it, okay?> I said. <It wouldn’t be right.>

<- we’d have sixty dollars. Bet that at three-to-one odds you have a hundred and eighty. Then bet that and you have five forty! Then sixteen hundred twenty! Then four thousand eight hundred and sixty!>

<How is it you can multiply in your head like that?> Rachel asked. <You barely scrape by in your math classes.>

<It’s a whole different thing when you’re multiplying money,> Marco said. <A whole different thing.>”

- Book #14: The Unknown, pg. 102 (by K.A. Applegate)

The rarest possible instance in pokemon (via EnixLeDerp on reddit)

The rarest thing is probably encountering a horde of 5 shiny Spinda with identical spot patterns with perfect IV’s, same gender, a hidden ability, the same nature, and all with Pokerus, which is a 1 in 1.166516e+120 chance of happening.

To see that as a full number, that’s a 1 in 1,166,516,000,000,000,512,216,872,712,104,384,496,808,632,888,240,896,
408,176,648,456,104,152,960,072,944,640,808,264,456,544,600,392,064,
040,352,200,480,240,248 chance of happening.

In words, thats a one in one novemtrigintillion, one hundred and sixty-six octotrigintillion, five hundred and sixteen septentrigintillion, five hundred and twelve tretrigintillion, two hundred and sixteen duotrigintillion, eight hundred and seventy-two untrigintillion, seven hundred and twelve trigintillion, one hundred and four novemvigintillion, three hundred and eighty-four octovigintillion, four hundred and ninety-six septenvigintillion, eight hundred and eight sexvigintillion, six hundred and thirty-two quinvigintillion, eight hundred and eighty-eight quattuorvigintillion, two hundred and forty trevigintillion, eight hundred and ninety-six duovigintillion, four hundred and eight unvigintillion, one hundred and seventy-six vigintillion, six hundred and forty-eight novemdecillion, four hundred and fifty-six octodecillion, one hundred and four septendecillion, one hundred and fifty-two sexdecillion, nine hundred and sixty quindecillion, seventy-two quattuordecillion, nine hundred and forty-four tredecillion, six hundred and forty duodecillion, eight hundred and eight undecillion, two hundred and sixty-four decillion, four hundred and fifty-six nonillion, five hundred and forty-four octillion, six hundred septillion, three hundred and ninety-two sextillion, sixty-four quintillion, forty quadrillion, three hundred and fifty-two trillion, two hundred billion, four hundred and eighty million, two hundred and forty thousand, two hundred and forty-eight chance of happening. You’re more likely to win the lottery one milion billion trillion quadrillion quintillion sextillion septillion times.

You’re more likely to guess what atom someone has chosen throughout all of the entire universe than this happening.