Rewatching The Pilot For Comfort Reasons, And The Way Coulson Approaches May In The Office About Wanting

Something I wish we got a little more of was Coulson comforting/encouraging Fitz??? That dynamic was played out a little bit, yes, but I feel like there's something there.

The way how Coulson would clasp Fitz shoulder as he was on the verge of tears, and in s4 when Coulson laid his forehead on Fitz' head telling him it was gonna be alright, and how he held Fitz' forearms as he was spiralling after coming out of the Framework....

Do you think Coulson was imitating what his father did for him when he was little? Comfort through physicality? I'd like to think so...

But also, Coulson has to know about Fitz' dad and how he left. He's gotta know there's a sort of hurt there. Maybe he feels the need to step in a little bit and show him what a real father is like? That it's okay to not only break, but to also be gentle.

Driving lessons with the SHIELD family.

a comic about fix-it fanfics

The difference between Howl and Gen is that Gen won't try and weasel his way out of the things he really really doesn't want to do.

i love you im glad you exist im so happy you’re alive

Thinking about a howling commandos show that takes place during the war so we get to see more of the commandos’ missions and stuff, and also more development of Steve and Bucky’s relationship. There would be a couple episodes where trains are mentioned or they have missions involving trains to scare the audience, so that it catches everyone off guard when the last ep ends with the scene right before Bucky “dies” in first avenger.

Headcanon: Bilbo eventually evolves into something of a Santa Claus figure to Hobbits.

“It became a fireside-story for young hobbits; and eventually Mad Baggins, who used to vanish with a bang and a flash and reappear with bags of jewels and gold, became a favourite character of legend and lived on long after all the true events were forgotten.”

Mad Baggins was remembered for randomly appearing with money, but Bilbo Baggins was well known for being extremely generous with his, especially to people who weren’t too well off. Frodo, of course, is just as free with his fortune as Bilbo was, as is Sam when he comes into it, and even Lobelia with what she has left after Saruman’s occupation, and as “Baggins” begins to decline as a name, it becomes somewhat synonymous with charity, and this gets mixed up in the legends about Bilbo’s funny adventures and ridiculous stories until everything’s too tied together to separate.

Bilbo would give out lots of gifts in the winter, to ensure everyone had warm clothes and a roof that didn’t leak, which is how he eventually became tied to Yuletide, and the legends start out as, “Mad Baggins will share his fortune with those who truly need it,” and eventually evolves into, “Good little Hobbitlings might get gifts from Mad Baggins,” and there are all sorts of pageantry and games, like someone will dress up as Mad Baggins and use Hobbit stealth magic and sleight of hand to “appear” in various places, set off a firecracker, and then run for it, and anyone who can catch him can have some candy out of his bag.

Long after Hobbits stop having dealings with Dwarves, and perhaps even after they stop believing in them altogether, they become mystical figures attached to the Mad Baggins legend, coming and going as they please and answering to nobody; anybody who catches a Dwarf may get cursed, but they also may win a treasure off of them like nothing else (and the curses, of course, are the sorts of dreadful things Hobbits can think of; thin foot-hair for a season, or never finding something until you’re looking for something else).

You know those creepy ornate woodland Santas, or like, the horrible Victorian illustrations? They have those too: Mad Baggins (a bright red nose and curly golden hair around his ears, bald on the top of his head and wearing boots of all things) accompanied by thirteen dwarves and a troop of ponies, passing out gifts and then disappearing with more than Hobbit skill. But the classic image of Mad Baggins, the one that springs to mind when children think of him, and appears in whatever their version of The Night Before Christmas is, garbs himself in green and silver and carries a sword (quite an outlandish thing among Hobbits!), and laughs often, being a great lover of song and good food and drink and practical jokes.

And if sometimes the perfect gift does appear out of thin air with no reasonable expectation, well. They say he learned from wizards too, and even though all things are diminished in the latter days, nobody ever said they were going to dwindle to nothing, did they? And it sits well with certain entities that at the end of the day, this is what’s left of a certain Dark Lord’s legacy; a legend borrowing the incidental property of his magic talisman to grant invisibility to bring gifts to children.

MicroFlashFic on Twitter did a lovely series for Holy Week and I wanted them preserved in one place.

All tweets described/text copied into the alt text for each screenshot.

Back to Middle Earth Month - "Shoot"

@spring-into-arda

Amrod and Amras had been the acknowledged experts with the longbow among his brothers. They had offered to teach Maglor more than once, but his interest had been minimal. He had learned enough to be proficient in hunting, but he had never been a lauded marksman. War had not changed that; he had always preferred other weapons.

Proficiency did not seem enough now.

“Come on,” the orc captain jeered. “Let’s have our game! No backin’ out now.”

One bow, warped from ill keeping. 

One arrow.

Not enough to fight his way out of the horde circling around him, baying for blood.

One target, farther than he liked from where he stood, foot chained to a stake thrust in the ground.

One target.

One small form chained to it, a withered fruit ever so slightly trembling on his head.

Help was -

Not here. Not coming in the next few seconds.

He did not deserve for it to come. It would be pure justice to leave him to this. But Elrond -

The blood calls were growing impatient.

He raised the bow.

He had been warned, very clearly, the cost for not playing this game.

They had muzzled him like a rabid dog. He wished they hadn’t; wished he could call to Elrond some last desperate word, wished he could sing the arrow straight, wished he could sing his way clear -

Elrond stood as still as he could. Almost perfectly steady.

It had to hit the rotting fruit. To miss entirely would bring down the orcs’ torment; to hit him -

The night was dark; the Enemy’s smoke was thick on the air.

Only the light of a single star broke through. 

He drew back the string.

And let the arrow fly.

Different Stories Resonate with Different People