#arda writes
Text
Fowl Language
Rating: G
Characters: Kazuma Asogi, Gina Lestrade, Barok van Zieks
Words: 1,293
For @tgaa-gen-week Day 7 - Free Day (just a little something silly to finish off the week!)
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When the work day had come to an end at last, Kazuma tried to shake off his irritations. Van Zieks had been especially petty lately, at least it seemed to him, and his patience with the man was wearing thin.
Kazuma paid for the fish and chips and sat down next to Gina on a bench where she was winding her watch.
“Ta,” she mumbled, slipping the watch in her pocket and taking the cone he handed her.
Taking a bite of his piping hot chips, Kazuma watched her through the corner of his eye. She was idly munching on her food while watching people pass with a wistful look in her eye. It didn’t take a great detective to guess she was thinking about the watch’s previous owner.
“Lestrade,” Kazuma said, deciding to cheer her up. “I want you to help me with something.”
“Wot,” she said disinterestedly.
“I want to know how to swear in English.”
Gina glanced at him sidelong. “Come on. You must know. Ya learned English in that fancy university o’ yours, didn’t ya?”
“They don’t teach crude language in the classroom,” Kazuma said, crossing his arms.
“Sure, but weren’t you a sailor and all? You must’ve ‘eard ‘em all then.”
Technically deck hand, a much less impressive job, but he wasn’t about to correct her. “The crew communicated in English, but no one spoke it as their native language. I learned to swear in Russian, Chinese, and Dutch, but not English.”
“Then wot ‘bout while you’ve been livin’ ‘ere? Just go down t’ the pub or somethin’.”
Maybe if he had someone to go with, or had any energy left after a day of keeping up with his mentor’s unrelenting pace. “Look, I know a few words, but you have the most colorful language of anyone I know. I just want a handful of expressions I can use when Lord van Zieks is being a pain. Rattle him a little.”
“Oh. Oh, I get it. It’ll be a prank, then?” Gina got a little gleam in her eye. “I’ll help ya, ‘Sogi.”
Kazuma was pleased to see her perk up. “Great. So what’s a decent insult I could use?”
Humming, Gina considered a moment, then said something in his ear.
“Why are you whispering?” Kazuma said, drawing back.
“It’s impolite t’ say these in public, ya know,” Gina said. “There’s kiddies around.”
There weren’t any within earshot of their bench, but then again she understood British culture better than he did. “I guess so. But that doesn’t sound very rude.”
“Oi, you’re askin’ my advice. I’m the expert ‘ere.”
“Right, right.” Kazuma put up his hands. “How about an exclamation of surprise?”
“Surprise, eh? Ooh, I got one for ya!” She whispered something else to him.
“Hm. I suppose that does sound a bit off-color. Any others I should know?”
“One ya say when you’re proper angry. The worst o’ the lot.” Gina lowered her voice. “The F word.”
Kazuma was intrigued. “What is it?”
Gina glanced around, then pulled him close and whispered a word in his ear.
“Is it really that bad?” Kazuma pulled back with a raised eyebrow. “That sounds like two ordinary words.”
Nodding seriously, Gina said, “Oh yeah. That’ll scandalize ‘im for sure.”
“Good. Well, thanks. He’s going to be shocked when I throw these at him.”
“Oh, ‘e’ll be surprised, all right.”
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
“Ha! I’d like to see that.” Gina went back to her food, munching with more vigor, and Kazuma was satisfied that he had accomplished his mission. At least the first part.
He didn’t have to wait long for the second part, as van Zieks was in a mood again the next day.
“Mr. Asogi, go pick up the autopsy report.”
“Yes, I’ll do that as soon as I’ve—”
“No, do it now.”
Every word of his since he arrived had felt short and prickly, and his instructions were more like demands. Kazuma had enough.
“Fine,” he said. Then just loud enough for van Zieks to hear, he added, “Son of a motherless goat.”
Van Zieks glanced up from his desk with a brief look of bafflement, but his ever present scowl slid back into place. “Why are you still standing there?”
Kazuma sighed and grabbed his coat. It wasn’t as satisfying a reaction as he hoped for, but it was a start.
On another occasion, they were at a crime scene where they learned of evidence that changed their entire understanding of the case.
Kazuma shook his head. “Gee willikers.”
Van Zieks narrowed his eyes as he took in the scene. “That’s certainly one way of putting it.”
Kazuma was a bit surprised van Zieks didn’t chide him for his rude language. It seemed like the sort of thing he would take issue with in his apprentice. But maybe he was so distracted by rethinking the case that he didn’t fully take in what Kazuma said.
Another day, Kazuma had spent hours working out an approach to their prosecution, writing a lengthy report explaining it and double checking his work. When he finished, he explained his theory to van Zieks, going point by point through his argument. Van Zieks listened without interruption, sitting back in his chair with his face as impassive as usual.
“Mr. Asogi,” he said at last. “The argument you have laid out is impressive, and you’ve improved in your presentation.”
Kazuma would have been pleased by the praise, had he not been able to hear the “but” coming from a mile away. He sighed. “What is it?”
“I wonder if you’ve forgotten the first witness we spoke to.”
It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. He had completely forgotten. It dismantled his entire case, and he would have to start over from the beginning.
He was so upset with himself that without thinking he swore terribly.
“Fiddlesticks.”
Van Zieks’ eyes were on him immediately and Kazuma realized what he said. He had been hoping to save that one for when van Zieks really deserved it, and this had been Kazuma’s fault entirely. He would just have to make the most of it.
But van Zieks’ expression changed from neutrality to mirth, and to Kazuma’s great astonishment, he laughed.
It was brief and quickly hidden behind the grim set of his mouth, but Kazuma knew he didn’t imagine it.
Once he had recovered from the shock, he remembered what had made him laugh in the first place and grew indignant.
“W-What’s so funny about all this? I spent all day on that report!”
“It’s not that, it’s—” Van Zieks’ lip quirked upward again. “Where did you learn that word?”
Trying to reign in his embarrassment, Kazuma said, “Wh— does that matter? It’s an expletive, everyone knows that. I might have picked it up in a pub or something.”
Van Zieks shook his head. “Someone has been pulling your chain. I had wondered where the sudden use of innocent exclamations came from.”
“Innocent?!” Kazuma tightened his fists. “You mean fiddlesticks isn’t a dirty word?!”
“I can’t say I know the meaning, but it is regarded as harmless.”
“You teach me something, then. Tell me the worst word you know!”
“No. Now I believe, Mr. Asogi, that you have a great deal of work to catch up on. You better get started.”
“Argh…” I have a certain Inspector I need to pay a visit.
When Kazuma stormed up to Gina’s desk at Scotland Yard, she took one look at his furious face and lit up in glee.
“Did you say ‘em?”
“Darn you, Gina Lestrade,” Kazuma growled, slamming her desk. “Darn you to hell!”
She laughed her face off.
-
Bonus incorrect quote:
Kazuma: Oh, spare me the sanctimonious lecture. You never cared about me. In the words of one of my actual friends: ya basic. It's a cockney insult. It's devastating. You're devastated right now.
Van Zieks: …?
#the great ace attorney#dai gyakuten saiban#kazuma asogi#gina lestrade#barok van zieks#tgaa spoilers#dgs spoilers#tgaa gen week#ace attorney#fanfiction#arda writes#*#I ran out of time for the more feelsy one I was working on#but that was a longshot to finish anyway#so here is silliness instead!#this week was really fun!!#I enjoyed seeing everyone's works and having a chance to share gen works :D
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I've written close to 4000 words of my Boromir lives AU fic today WHO WANTS TO CRY WITH ME ABOUT HIM MOURNING THÉODRED?
Boromir found himself in a corridor which ran behind the main hall, leading eventually to the apartments of the king. Halfway down, he paused before a relief carving in the wall, a stunning depiction of Éorl the Young as he drove a hoard of orcs across the river Limlight.
Often when visiting in his younger days, he would meet Théodred and Éomer in this very place so that they could sneak from the hall and go riding after everyone else had gone to bed. Leaning closer, Boromir could smell the heavy warm scent of the wood, and it was this that made his chest ache, grief for the prince rising swift and unrelenting once again.
He slid his hand over the carving, following the smoothly arching neck of Éorl's steed as he turned his gaze upwards to the face of the long-dead sire of Rohan.
"If he is with you now," Boromir whispered to him. "Let him ride at the front of your éored, for he died as you did, defending his people to the last breath."
#The Lord of the Rings#Arda#i am in boromir brainrot hell and i'm making it everyone's problem#Nanowrimo 2023#Boromir#my writing#Fic: The Edge of Night
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"Harad" in the Third Age having insanely complex politics and factions... People willingly fighting on Sauron's side. People forcibly conscripted to fight on Sauron's side. People fighting against Sauron (and their own neighbours in the process). Legitimate armies resisting him, and rebel cells consisting of twenty youths with ten swords between them.
Some of the people allied with Sauron are simply evil, and others have longstanding beef with Gondor, and sometimes it's being colonized by Gondor proper, and other times it's the memory of Númenor -- who in fact acquired most of that enemity in its years of being in practice led by Sauron. Some knowing who they're ultimately allied with, others having been recruited by less scary intermediaries. And it's just such a mess.
#I write Harad in quote marks as part of my#there's no way that's the actual name#agenda -- because it feels a bit ridiculous to group such a huge number of peoples simply into the 'South'#my post#tolkien#Harad#lotr#peoples of arda#haradrim
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Fëanor and Fingolfin Reunited in Arda Healed
'Remember no grievance,' you spoke, your words the first droplets of a rainstorm piercing the waters of a clear lake.
Remember no grievance, as if we were not made to grieve one another, to wound each other as no one else could. For I knew you as deeply as I knew my own self. And could anyone else hurt us better than we hurt ourselves?
for @ettelene
art by @runawaymun | fic by @melestasflight
#feanor#fingolfin#finweans#arda healed#silm#the silmarillion#lotr#tolkien#art#ranawaymun art#my writing#gifts
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The Tally at the Hornburg
I tried to write a drinking song about Legolas and Gimli's competitions inspired by some person's post I saw on Pinterest. I don’t know who the author is, though. Here's the post:
I also tried to apply Tolkien’s style of merry songs. Also, this is the very first song I've ever written, so pls don't be harsh. Well... here it is:
1. Lift all your pints and ales,
And harken to my tale, dear friends!
A tale of a friendship unlikely,
Of rivalry that hasn't hindered it, not even slightly!
One, two, three, there flies another!
Over the wall, and up he goes!
And down he goes!
Down, down on the heads of his comrades,
Ha ha!
2. Come and listen closely:
Laughter, oddly seeming phony,
A laughter laughed by a one dwarf tall,
As he swings his axe, and another orc falls, down, down the wall!
One, two, three, there flies another!
Over the wall, and up he goes!
And down he goes!
Down, down on the heads of his comrades,
Ha ha!
3. Near the dawn, after night,
A call is heard through the sky bright.
"Thirty two!", cries the dwarf to his friend,
And the elf throws a sheild on the stairs, slides down, and - oh! - he fares!
One, two, three, there flies another!
Over the wall, and up he goes!
And down he goes!
Down, down on the heads of his comrades,
Ha ha!
4. Post-fight, the dwarf sits down,
And sitting on the ruins, lown,
He pulls out a pipe from b'hind his belt,
And waits for the elf to share the count of blows that he had dealt.
One, two, three, and the elf comes by!
Pulls out a bow, and shares his count!
The final count!
The count, that goes up to forty two,
Ha ha!
5. "Forty two, you say, eh?
Not bad, for a pointy-eared prince.
If not as good as it could have been!
For I, myself, am higher on a count that is forty three!”
One, two, three, the elf is distressed.
Not so easily bested, no!
"My dear mister!
I'm sure to win in a drinking game,
Ha ha!"
6. Later that day, that night,
The elf and dwarf sit down to fight!
To fight for the deciding ending!
And soon they are ready, with hands gripping pints, faces pending.
One, two, three, there's downed another!
Onto the table, and refilled!
And downed again!
Downed, downed to the glory of either,
Ha ha!
7. Into the night, or dawn,
The friends will not so much as yawn!
The fight is still on, neither will lose,
While the bottoms of the barrels deep will soon be split in twos!
One, two, three, there's downed another!
Onto the table, and refilled!
And downed again!
Downed, downed to the glory of either,
Ha ha!
8. Attention! The dwarf sways,
The merry elf glances his way.
"Not too long until he collapses,
I am sure - I dearly hope - to last just a few more lapses".
One, two, three, there's downed another!
Onto the table, and refilled!
And downed again!
Downed, downed to the glory of either,
Ha ha!
9. The dwarf, as foretold, falls.
The elf, overjoyed, stands and calls:
"'Tis was a jubilant endeavor,
But now I must announce, to my rebuilded joy and viguor:
Game over!”
One, two, three, there's downed the last one!
Onto the table, and away!
Away, away!
Away, to the joy of the victor,
Ha ha!
10. This is the tale, dear folks,
Of an elf prince, that could not boast,
And his dwarf friend who, by just one pint,
Was bested in a drinking game, collapsed, and drowned was his mind,
With alcohol!
One, two, three, there flies another!
Over the wall, and up he goes!
And down he goes!
Down, down on the heads of his comrades,
Ha ha!
One, two, three, there's downed another!
Onto the table, and refilled!
And downed again!
Downed, downed to the glory of either,
Ha ha!
#lotr#song#humor#legolas#gimli#legolas greenleaf#gimli son of gloin#drinking games#drinking song#lord of the rings#the fellowship of the ring#the two towers#the return of the king#poetry#song writing#song of the day#tolkien#middle earth#Arda#tolkien elves#elves#lotr elves#lotr elf#tolkien elf#dwarves#orcs#dwarf#elf
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“There remained, of course, the ancient tradition concerning the high king at Fornost, or Norbury as they called it, away north of the Shire. But there had been no king for nearly a thousand years, and even the ruins of Kings’ Norbury were covered with grass.” ~ Prologue, Of the Ordering of the Shire, The Fellowship of the Ring (Art: “The Lands without a King” by tuuliky on DeviantArt)
Art by Tuuliky
https://www.deviantart.com/tuuliky
#the shire#lord of the rings#i love how tolkien writes such an atmosphere of ancientness going back so long#arda remade facebook#bilbo
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arda worldbuilding fic prompt list
send me a number and a character, dynamic, or ship, and i'll write a fic that features...
1: weaving or fabric craft
2: native species of birds
3: weapons manufacturing
4: herbs
5: burial rites
6: jewelry
7: an anniversary celebration
8: baking
9: cross-cultural misunderstandings
10: a body of water (lake, river, etc)
11: record-keeping
12: medicine
13: a superstition
14: religious sacrifice
15: a cultural taboo
16: hunting or fishing
17: myths
18: foreign trade
19: schooling or education
20: songs of power
21: theatre
22: pets or companion animals
23: an heirloom
24: native species of insects
25: traditional family relationships: family hierarchies and structures
#please reblog this if u want btw i wanna share the prompts#more worldbuilding for all#lena speaks#writing prompts#the silmarillion#arda#for some reason none of my projects are sparking anything for me so i'm gonna try and see if this does anything#also this is my very very sneaky way of tricking my beloved mutuals into writing worldbuilding heavy fic :)
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Day 7 of All of Arda is Autistic:
Prompt: loud noises/holding hands
Rating: Gen
Legolas & Gimli (can read as platonic or pre-romantic relationship)
CW: description of a dissociative episode. Canon typical description of battle
The battle was won. Against all odds, they had won. Yet, this fact couldn’t register in Legolas’ frantic mind as he tried to breathe deeply, to shut down the clamour of the battle still ringing in his ears. It had been his first true battle, he realised with detachment. This terrible fight for life, the gruesome sight of dead men trampled by orcs. Legolas shivered and let out a sound like a choked sob.
He could still hear the screams of his foes, their foul language screeching insults and challenges. It had been so loud. Everything was still loud now, as the men were cleaning and putting weapons and armours away with echoing clangs of metal on stone, as women and children reunited with their families in joyful laughter or mourned their lost relatives with ear-splitting cries. Yet, everything sounded distant and deformed, as if Legolas was deep under water, barely able to see the sun on the surface. His whole body felt numb. A detached part of his mind was telling him to move, to go out of the main hall of the Hornburg, clean himself. But he couldn’t move. Even his usually sharp eyesight was blurred.
Someone took his hand and led him away from the chaos. Legolas followed sluggishly, barely registering what was happening. A door opened and shut closed in a rusty creak, and the first thing he noticed was the silence. It was almost deafening after the hours and hours of constant noise, but Legolas’ mind cleared enough for him to register the large, calloused hand still holding his. Gimli. “You beat me by one foe defeated, Master Dwarf,” he said automatically, his voice sounding hollow even to him.
“Ach, laddie, you gave me a right fright back in the great hall.” Gimli replied gruffly. But he squeezed Legolas’ hand just a bit tighter. Legolas clung to the large fingers like an anchor to the reality. “You looked ready to drop dead on the spot or flee like a spooked deer.” Gimli continued, more quietly this time, concern clear in his voice.
“It was… I… too much noise. Too loud.” Legolas forced out of his lips. “It makes me…” he frowned, searching for the right words. “Like when you see yourself from outside your body, in a dream. I can watch, but not do anything.” Gimli grumbled something in his beard that sounded a bit like Elvish metaphors! But he didn’t dismiss his distress and, still keeping hold of Legolas’ hand, led him to a bench against the wall.
“I’ll go fetch water and towels. Will you be alright alone here?” Legolas took a moment to try focus on his own body, on the twirling mass of thoughts in his mind, and the warm Dwarven hand in his. He shook his head.
“I… could you stay a moment please?” he asked quietly, glancing quickly at his friend. Gimli only nodded.
“Let’s take our armours off, first. We can’t let this nice metal rust on us,” he said, immediately acting on his words and shucking his chainmail away. Legolas felt keenly the loss of Gimli’s hand in his but tried to hide his dismay, focusing instead on removing his armours. At last, he was left only in his usual tunic and leggings, with his cloak of Lórien wrapped around him like a blanket.
Legolas closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool stone wall, slowly regaining awareness of his own body and surroundings. He felt Gimli sit heavily next to him and, to Legolas’ surprise and joy, a large, calloused hand rested on top of his where it lay on the bench. Instinctively, he turned his palm up and squeezed the Dwarf’s hand. Gilmi squeezed back and didn’t let go. They sat silent for a long time, and Legolas was finally back in the present.
#all of arda is autistic 2023#legolas#gimli son of gloin#legolas x gimli#cw dissociation#autistic Legolas#autistic character#autistic author#ficlet#writing prompt#autism acceptance month
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Tagged by @dalliansss for the WIP game
Elf was too busy to notice his coming tonight. In doubt he stood in front of the armour. Near lied two clothes for the choosing, both red and embroider with eight-rayed stars: one was the robe and other was light gambeson to be worn under the armour. The sword he had held in his hands. A beautiful that reflected the light. He raised it in front of his face and in it Melkor saw his eyes burning like brightest stars of the sky. Fëanáro in turn noticed the shadow of purest black and turned to face it, sword still in hand. His body was tense and ready for battle, but the Vala just laughed.
“A sword would not help you if I came not in peace,” he said with a smile, “Although, you should not have one, aren’t you?”
“And you shouldn’t have talked with any of the Eldar before your second trial and yet you have,” Fëanáro reminded with bitter annoyance, less on him and more on himself for not noticing it back then, “So stop with pretending. You knew I made swords.”
Tagging @my-last-brain-cell-is-socrates @ylieke @ everyone else who wants to share a bit of their work.
#feanor#melkor#silmarillion#writing#fanfic writing#wip#play with fire#I love writing these two interact#they are the worst™#by that I mean if left locked together for some time#they might invent a nuclear weapon#they bring the worst in each other#mostly melkor#he really works on this stubborn cat#I mean elf#or maybe feanor can keep melkor busy enough so there wouldn't be any problems for the rest of arda#fun either way#my fic
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Vote Arien for King of Arda☀️
#thats right its Varda and Arien ruling time#you heard me#shes her Maia#you know who else rule with his Maia? thats right the 2 losers in the north. time for equality !!!! TIME FOR REVENGE#vote Arien!#arien#YOU CANT WRITE ARDA WITHOUT STARTING TO WRITE AR-IEN#(im doing fine yes thank you 😊)
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A Study in Shuffling
Characters: Genshin Asogi, Yujin Mikotoba, Herlock Sholmes
Words: 1,743
For TGAA Gen Week Day 1 - Dancing
@tgaa-gen-week
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Genshin stepped back outside and took a moment to glance up at the stars. He wasn’t exactly pleased to get called to a crime scene tonight, but such was detective work. He wandered to the gate of 3 Lauriston Gardens, waiting for Inspector Gregson to return from an errand. A man with a similar silhouette approached in the dark, but to Genshin’s surprise, the man who stepped into the street light was Yujin Mikotoba.
“Ah! Good evening, Genshin,” he said politely.
Genshin raised an eyebrow. They were on the other side of London from the hospital where Mikotoba worked, and farther still from the flat he just moved into on Baker Street. “Good evening. I should inform you that this is a crime scene, so whatever business you have here will have to wait.”
“Oh, it—it’s nothing like that,” Mikotoba said, oddly nervous. “Actually, I was wondering if perhaps…”
Genshin cut him off. “One moment.” He stalked along the fence to the shadow attempting to creep in between the rails. “Mr. Sholmes.”
Sholmes snapped up his head and hit it on a rail, wincing. “Why, Mr. Asogi! Fancy meeting you here of all places!”
“I could say the same,” Genshin said dryly. “All right, on your way.”
“Of course.” Sholmes’ grin shone in the lamp light. “Just as soon as I’ve had a look at the crime scene.”
“No,” Genshin said firmly. He saw Mikotoba hovering nearby and put up a hand. “One moment, Yujin.”
“Oh, er, you see…” Mikotoba began.
“He’s with me,” Sholmes said.
“Ha!” Genshin barked. “I’m sure.”
“Tell him, Doctor.”
“Lying will get you nowhere. Now quit bothering this man and—“
“Er, Genshin,” Mikotoba interrupted. “I am here with Mr. Sholmes.”
Genshin whipped around to stare at him. “What?” he said dumbly.
“This is my flatmate, Herlock Sholmes. Mr. Sholmes, this is my friend, Genshin Asogi.”
Sholmes extended his hand and Genshin automatically went to shake it. “Pleased to—no, I know who you are!” He snatched his hand away. “What do you mean, your flatmate?”
“I told you about that flatshare on Baker Street, right?” Mikotoba said.
Horror filled him. “You didn’t tell me he lived there!”
“I didn’t know you were acquainted.”
“This is all fascinating stuff,” Sholmes said, making it clear that he thought it was anything but. “However, we are on a rather tight schedule, so if we could just…”
“I thought I made it clear on several occasions that civilians, even amateur detectives such as yourself, are not allowed at any crime scene,” Genshin said.
Sholmes drew himself up to his full height, which was still a good few inches shorter than Genshin. “And just how is Scotland Yard coming along on this case?”
Narrowing his eyes, Genshin glared at him. They were going nowhere, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Sholmes.
“That’s what I thought,” Sholmes said, his smug look doubling Genshin’s irritation. “Anyway, I was invited by Inspector Gregson.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Just ask the good doctor.”
Genshin raised an eyebrow at Mikotoba, who rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well…he was doing a lot of grumbling…and he did mention the address, so…could we take a quick look?”
Genshin couldn’t believe he was actually considering this. He gave an exasperated sigh. “Five minutes.”
“Splendid!” Sholmes said, climbing up over the fence and pumping Genshin’s hand. “You won’t be disappointed, my dear fellow!”
He went ahead into the house and up the stairs, while Mikotoba followed behind with Genshin.
“I’m used to Mr. Sholmes wheedling his way onto my crime scenes,” Genshin said, “But I still don’t understand why you are here.”
Mikotoba shrugged. “I’m not sure myself. But he invited me along, and I had nothing else to do.”
“I really must warn you against him,” Genshin said, lowering his voice. “Especially as a flatmate. The man is a nuisance, and possibly insane.”
“He seems a decent enough fellow,” Mikotoba said. “Eccentric perhaps, but from what I’ve seen, a brilliant man.”
“Listen, Yujin.” Genshin stopped on a landing. “You see the best in people, which is admirable, but can get you into trouble. I don’t want to see you get in over your head. You tend to get swept along in whatever someone asks of you.”
“Yes,” Mikotoba said with a faint smile. “Like how you and Seishiro bullied me into coming to Britain in the first place.” He took the last few steps ahead of Genshin.
Genshin sighed through his nose and stepped up to the door, nodding to the bobby guarding it, and went inside.
Sholmes took a quick look at the body in the middle of the room, before turning his attention to the walls. After he had scoured them, he gestured to the body. “Doctor, if you would.”
“What—me?” Mikotoba said.
“What is your professional opinion, as a medical examiner? It would be very useful to me,” Sholmes said.
“W-Well, I…I’ve only just begun studying post-mortem examinations, but…I’ll do what I can.” He crouched beside the body, carefully turning the head to get a better look at it. “He’s dead, that’s for certain…no signs of head trauma…” He picked up a hand. “No blood, no defensive wounds…erm…heart attack, perhaps?”
“Would it be a crime scene if it was a heart attack?”
“Oh, right, then…poison?”
“Excellent!” Sholmes snapped his fingers. “Now take a look at this marking on the wall and tell me what you make of it.”
Mikotoba jumped when Sholmes pointed it out. “Oh! There is blood! It looks like writing.”
“Rachel,” Genshin said dryly. It had been the most glaringly obvious clue in the room.
“Is that indeed what it says?” Sholmes turned his grin on him, and Genshin got a sinking feeling. “Scotland Yard is falling down on the job these days. This crime is completely transparent to me!”
Mikotoba gaped, and it needled Genshin to see him so impressed. “You—you’ve worked it all out?”
“All the clues are here, we need only put them together.” Sholmes pointed aloft. “It is time for Herlock Sholmes’s Logic and Reasoning Spectacular!”
Genshin groaned as the spotlight fell on Sholmes, who twirled around the room as if it were a stage and pointed to the red writing.
“Here we have a word written on the wall. What does it say?”
“That’s obvious,” Genshin said, his arms folded as he watched from the doorway. “Rachel, though he was interrupted before he could write the ‘L.’ I believe it to be the victim writing the name of his killer.”
“Rachel, is it?” Sholmes said. “Mikotoba, is there any other meaning it might have?”
“Well, this is a bit far-fetched,” Mikotoba said. “But I know a little German. It struck me that it might be ‘rache,’ the word for revenge.”
“Precisely!” Sholmes spun around again. “Don’t lose your time looking for Miss Rachel. The word is revenge, the motive for the murder, written…in tomato paste.”
“Er, Mr. Sholmes…” Mikotoba ventured. “Don’t you think that might be blood?”
“Indeed, it is blood!” Sholmes disappeared from the wall and reappeared near the body. “And just what is this revenge all about? Strange that it was written by the victim, don’t you think?”
Mikotoba said nothing, looking intently at the victim, thinking hard. Then something seemed to light up his face. “Hold it, Mr. Sholmes. That’s not it at all.”
He tapped out a few dance steps before tipping his hat stylishly. “The victim’s fingernails are perfectly clean and smooth. Since the word was scratched onto the wall with blood, it couldn’t possibly be the victim who wrote it.”
“And thus it concludes…” Sholmes spun so that he and Mikotoba could point out the solution together.
“Rache was written by the killer!”
They began work on another clue in the same manner while Genshin watched in astonishment. From time to time, Sholmes turned over the spotlight to Mikotoba, who danced as he explained his own deductions. He was light on his feet, suggesting a certain lightness of heart that had been absent in him for a long time.
Softening at the sight, Genshin almost missed Sholmes appearing behind him.
“Brilliant, isn’t he?”
Genshin chafed at the detective so close over his shoulder. “He is. You on the other hand…”
Sholmes laughed loudly and went off to twirl around the stage again.
Once their deductions were complete, Genshin, to his chagrin, had a much better understanding of the case.
“All right, your five minutes are more than up,” he growled.
“Not a problem at all, my dear fellow,” Sholmes said. “Our work here is finished. Do excuse me, I must fetch the victim’s missing suitcase in the back alley.”
He dashed down the stairs. Genshin and Mikotoba went back outside at a slower pace, waiting by the house while Sholmes conducted his search. Genshin sighed.
“Why don’t you like him?” Mikotoba asked.
“Why don’t I—why do you like him?”
“Well, it’s hard to explain, really.” Mikotoba looked out at the dark street where Sholmes had disappeared. “He fascinates me. Yes, he has some bothersome habits, but he’s the cleverest man I’ve ever met. It’s never a dull moment with him around.”
“Yes but, not being rude Yujin, you’re more of a dull man yourself.”
Mikotoba laughed, filling Genshin with warmth to hear the sound again. “Yes, well, good to keep the mind occupied, you know? I think I’ve had rather enough dreary days all to myself. You were the one telling me to get out more—”
“Not like this!”
“—And to make new friends—”
“Not like him!”
“Genshin…” Mikotoba faced him directly. “I know you’re trying to protect me. And I know you’re older and wiser and know better. But if I am making a mistake, I’m confident I can handle myself.”
If he was honest, Genshin would agree. It was possible Sholmes did have a good side to him, and if he could make Mikotoba laugh again… Well. It’s not like Genshin had much choice in what the detective made up his mind to do, and maybe if Sholmes had Mikotoba to civilize him, he would be less of a pest at his crime scenes.
“Tell me that when I bail the pair of you out of prison,” Genshin muttered.
Sholmes appeared out of the darkness holding a packing case. “Come, Doctor, the game is afoot!” he called.
Mikotoba chuckled. “I’m sure I will.” He wished him goodnight and followed along after Sholmes.
#the great ace attorney#dai gyakuten saiban#genshin asogi#yujin mikotoba#herlock sholmes#tgaa gen week#tgaa spoilers#dgs spoilers#a bit last minute but I wanted to have something for day one!#may edit more later and put it on ao3 but for now here's something :)#arda writes#*
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Boromir Lives!AU ch 1 is now up!!
Rating: M (violence, language, some spice later maybe)
Chapters: 1 out of ??
Characters/pairings: Boromir/Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Eowyn, Merry, Pippin...p much everyone
Current Word Count: 4,744
Summary: Badly wounded after the encounter with orcs at Amon Hen and the breaking of the Fellowship, Boromir must find his way amidst conflicting forces as the War of the Ring reaches its height.
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Numenorean and Gondorian/Arnorian folklore
Part 1
My headcanons. Not in any particular order.
The Singer by the Sea/The Shore-Singer/etc - a mysterious figure who sings mournful tunes on the beach, usually after dark - is a motif present in the folklore of the coastal regions from Forochel to the Far South and East.
There are many versions of what his backstory could have been, even among one people. Some said he mourns all the sorrow he has seen. As others tell it, he has committed some terrible crime. There is a story that he once killed his true love's father by accident and she would never have him afterwards. It is often said that he is a ghost or there is a spell on him. Various combinations of the above and other tales are found. He appears in several fairy-tales as a helper-figure
Rumors of his being in a given region surface from time to time leading to instances of people attempting to come upon him. Children who sneak out of their homes at night sometimes report speaking to him.
Stories about sailors encountering ëarni (maiar of Ulmo) were very abundant in Numenor and continue to be abundant in Middle-Earth.
[A few of the Numenorean tales were actually true (probably not the ones of Gondor though)]
This is sort of taken out of BoLT but. There is a superstition in Gondor (and Arnor? but Arnor was never particularly coastal so maybe less) that if the light of Eärendil shines on a newborn child, that child will grow up to be a sailor/wanderer/connected with the sea somehow. Sources disagree on when this has to happen - "in the hour of its birth", in its first day/week of life, or whatever, and whether it's a good or bad thing for the child.
Another superstition says that children born while the West wind blows will be particularly happy, or lucky, or achieve something great. There is the slightest grain of truth in this - in that the West wind does tend to blow on feast days or days of particular importance more often than on others, but it certainly doesn't say anything about the fate of newborns.
#Should I write some in-universe meta about this?#peoples of Arda#my post#arda folklore#middle earth#tolkien#tolkien headcanons#gondor#Silmarillion#maglor
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Written for the @fellowshipofthefics's Luck of the Draw. I rolled: "Please, put that down", Drunk, First Meeting.
Slayers and Watchers are from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but you don't need to be familiar with it to understand what's going on!
TITLE: She (Alone) Shall Stand
RATING: T
WARNINGS: Graphic violence (vampire slaying), mentions of slavery, past canon Silmarillion events.
RELATIONSHIPS: Laergliriel & Lindaeareth (OFC & OFC, mother-daughter relationship), eventual Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife, misc. past/mentioned relationships
SERIES: Slayers and Watchers of Arda
SUMMARY: When Sauron performed his vile experiments in Angband, even he could not predict what he would one day unleash upon the world…
Or: the tale of Arda’s first Slayer, the one she loves most, and her journey to finding her Watcher.
READ ON AO3
#fotfics#luck of the draw#eden writes#eden's moodboards#thranduil#oropher#oc: laergliriel#oc: lindaeareth#series: slayers and watchers of arda
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Glorestor & ice pls!
this is one of my oldest prompts, and i havent done this (Tolkien) in too long, but this one resonated and brain is Like That sometimes. i hope you like this, and i love you ❤️
Erestor knew not to wake his beloved when he froze in their bed in Imladris in the middle of the night.
Glorfindel slept very little overall. He blamed it on his coming back and the strength he was imbued with upon his return. Everyone accepted the explanation, delivered with a wide smile and in a cheery voice; everyone but Erestor, for Erestor was the one who shared Glorfindel's bed, and knew him as much as Glorfindel would allow anyone to know him.
Erestor was the one who saw Glorfindel pace the length of their rooms night and night again when he was not out on patrol, unable to calm himself enough to rest, no matter the vigorousness of their previous activities. He was the one who saw the exhaustion in his lover's eyes which Glorfindel obscured with his cheerfulness and boisterous attitude, enough to fool anyone who did not see him pale and shaking in the light of dawn before he put on his armours, the iron one and the metaphorical one both. He was the one who woke up when the warm body next to his turned cold enough to snap him put of his sleep and when the shadows seemed to lengthen as his lover turned on his back, eyes wide open and somewhere far away, somewhere Erestor could never follow, somewhere that was before Erestor's time; one tragedy in the myriad ones from the Eldar's past.
Erestor was the one who learned never to wake up his lover when he lay still and unmoving in their bed during the night; for when Glorfindel dreamed then, he dreamed of the ice of Helcaraxë, and there was naught to do, or say in the wake of so much death and pain in his beloved's memories.
But Erestor was also the one who learned that sometimes, if he covered Glorfindel with his warm body; sometimes, he would wake from the nightmare before the dawn came and forcefully dragged him out of it.
That, Erestor knew, would have to be enough.
#idk if this makes sense tbh but also theres absolutely no pressure to read!! ♡#this fits into my worldbuilsing for them where erestor is ecthelions half brother and born in arda#anyways i hope you like this#tolkien fic#silm fic#glorestor#effervescentdragonwrites#my writing#i wrote a tolkien ficlet again im so freaking happy my godsssss#:D#insomnia
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Envy and jealousy
It’s a tragic aspect of Fëanor’s character that jealousy is one of his weaknesses, because it’s one of Melkor’s defining traits. I searched for the words envy and jealousy in the Silmarillion, and they were most often used in relation to Melkor:
‘But he desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men, envying the gifts with which Ilúvatar promised to endow them...’
‘Then Melkor saw what was done, and that the Valar walked on Earth as powers visible, clad in the raiment of the World, and were lovely and glorious to see, and blissful, and that the Earth was becoming as a garden for their delight, for its turmoils were subdued. His envy grew then the greater within him...’
‘...he was filled with hatred, being jealous of the work of his peers, whom he desired to make subject to himself.’
‘The Noldor learned most of [Aulë], and he was ever their friend. Melkor was jealous of him...’
‘Whereas Melkor spent his spirit in envy and hate...’
‘...thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery of the Elves...’
‘...when Melkor first looked down in envy upon the Kingdom of Manwë...’
‘Then he looked upon their glory and their bliss, and envy was in his heart; he looked upon the Children of Ilúvatar that sat at the feet of the Mighty, and hatred filled him; he looked upon the wealth of bright gems, and he lusted for them; but he hid his thoughts, and postponed his vengeance.’ (What a quote!!!!!!!)
Meanwhile, it says of Fëanor that he ‘grudged the happiness of Finwë and Indis, and was unfriendly to their children, even before they were born’ (The Shibboleth of Fëanor), which is almost identical to the quote about Melkor above. And: ‘High princes were Fëanor and Fingolfin, the elder sons of Finwë, honoured by all in Aman; but now they grew proud and jealous each of his rights and his possessions.’ I just find it really interesting that envy and jealousy were the cause behind both Melkor’s hatred of the Valar and also the fall of the Noldor.
#my writing#Feanor#Melkor#it's just interesting!#and Melkor envies Manwe's right to rule Arda#while Feanor becomes afraid that Fingolfin will try to usurp him
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