Fazbear Entertainment did not program him to deal with that

winter moon/ch.3

Okay this took a little bit longer than I thought it would cause I had to figure out a few stuff in the story and its pacing. Good news is I have the next 2 chapters almost ready so the wait between this one and the next shouldn’t be too long! Comments are always appreciated! 

I also post this on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999362/chapters/71169963

Chapter 3

“So, ojou-chan, where are we off to next?” Childe asked you. You were still around the fire, everyone was still too wound up to really sleep - and that meant Childe, seeing as he was the only human in a company of non-mortals that needed little to no sleep.

  “We’re looking for leads as to where she might’ve gone. My stars- I followed her until Liyue and lost track of her. We need to find clues on whether she’s still in Liyue or if she left it.”

  “And she’s a yaksha, she wouldn't dare mingle with the mortals of Liyue Harbour. Most likely she’s as far from them as possible. Not many mortals can withstand a yaksha’s energy.” Xiao continued for you. The teacup Zhongli had handed him remained untouched.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, shortie.” Childe mocked from his place beside you. You could almost immediately see Xiao lose his temper, weapon conjuring in his hand. 

“Hey, hey, there’s no need for that. We should rest and continue on our way once the moon sets.” You tried to reason but Childe had already conjured his own dual water blades. 

  “Come, have some tea with me.” Zhongli patted the seat beside him. You sighed in exasperation as you sat beside him. He handed you a new, hot cup of tea that you gladly accepted as your eyes followed Childe and Xiao out of the cavern.

  “This is going to be a long journey.” You said, listening in on the sounds of blades clashing.

  “Are you sure Yin really is here?” The sudden change of topic startled you and you looked at Zhongli quizzically.

  “What do you mean?” Why would he suddenly bring up your yaksha?

  “My loss of gnosis is very recent. I don't believe I would’ve missed it if someone as powerful as a yaksha stepped onto my territory. Perhaps she is no longer here or she never was in the first place.” He stated as he calmly sipped his tea. “Or perhaps have you come here seeking something else?” He knew something wasn't right with you. He noticed it the moment he saw you, saw it in the way you talked and the moment you had first laid your eyes upon Xiao.

“I-...” He was as perceptive as always, that or because he’d known you since you were a newborn god, had trained you and watched you grow into the feared yet respected Celestial Goddess you once were. “There is something else, that’s true,” you replied. 

 You didn't know how to continue though. How do you explain the sudden desire you’d felt to come back to Liyue, the weird nostalgic feeling you had once you finally stepped in its borders, the constricting of your lungs when you’d first seen Xiao or the mysterious agony that had overwhelmed you when you’d seen the half-frozen tree. 

  Was Zhongli’s trust in you wavering? So soon? On another hand, perhaps he was right. He couldn't have missed the fact that a yaksha had stepped into his domain. He would’ve definitely felt it. Or was it something else? It seemed that since you’d arrived in Liyue there always was something else.

  “Nonetheless, my priority is Yin. I’ve never been this close to finding her. I can’t give up now, Zhongli.” You said, turning to him with pleading eyes. 

“You know I’d never refuse to help you, you don't need to look at me like that. No matter what you say, you are still the current God of the Moon and I would never disobey you.” He stated as a matter of fact, continuing to sip on his tea ever so calmly.

  A silent rage swirled in your chest as you turned your whole body towards him. “I want you to help me because you’re you and I’m me, not because of your duties as an Archon to obey the Celestials. I want you to help me because Yin fought for you in the Archon war when she swore she’d never fight again just because of what you meant to me. Because I know how much she hates herself that she wasn't there when I-” You cut yourself off, you didn't want to finish the sentence. 

 Zhongli’s eyes closed in phantom pain as memories he didn't want to remember resurfaced. Images of your lifeless body, covered in blood flashed before his eyes. He knew that if Yin was with you instead of with him, perhaps what happened to you on the night of your descent from Celestia wouldn't have happened.

 “I’m sorry, Zhongli.” You were just guilt-tripping him at this point with how you were phrasing things. You were never too good at expressing yourself with words.

 “You need not apologise. You are indeed correct. My duties to you as an Archon may be over, but I am still your life long friend and I am willing to help you find Yin no matter what.” If you didn't know him like the back of your hand, you’d say he was emotionless when he said that. But you could hear the underlying determination coming from his words. 

  You smiled at yourself as you drank your tea, “Thank you, Zhongli. I promise you she is here in Liyue. I can feel it. Her constellation has never shone brighter.” Zhongli hummed as he poured himself another cup.

      Something shook you awake from your slumber. You opened your eyes and was met with the golden ones of Xiao and the restless figure of Zhongli. You hadn’t even noticed you had fallen asleep the night before. 

  “Wake up. Childe is missing.” What? 

  “What? How? I thought someone was keeping watch?” You looked around - the fire had long been extinguished, the tea was cold and the moon still hadn’t set. By the looks of it, it was close to early morning.

  Xiao ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. “I was keeping watch outside and Rex Lapis came over to discuss… something. By the time he went back in, the annoying harbinger was gone.” 

  “I see… Then we have no choice but to look for him.” You pulled yourself up. What was Childe up to? “Since you were both outside when he vanished… then there’s only one direction he could’ve gone.” 

   The deeper you walked into the cave the darker it got. You couldn't hear any sounds, even Zhongli couldn't feel any vibration in the stone floor. It was as if Childe had disappeared into thin air. 

  “How much deeper does this cave go? We’re losing light. We should've brought torches.” Xiao pondered. 

 Well, you could help with that couldn't you? You took off one of your gloves and concentrated on the pyro vision within you and brought it forth to your palm, lighting the cave around you. The small crescent moon sigil at the back of your hand glowed gently in response. 

  “You shouldn't do that.” Xiao said, grabbing onto your wrist, looking at the fire, or more likely into the slowly reddening flesh around the flame. 

 Your body had the ability to wield all seven elements but the downsides to that were the fact that it couldn't adapt to just one. Cryo was too cold, Pyro burned you and Electro electrocuted more often than not. But how did Xiao know that? Sure, it wasn't hidden knowledge that the Celestial Gods possessed all elements but it was a strictly kept secret that your bodies couldn't withstand them for long periods of time, so that no one could use that weakness against Celestia itself.

  You looked at Zhongli in question, perhaps he was the one that told him. Out of all the seven Archons, only Zhongli knew of your predicament. But Zhongli wore the same confused expression you did. So how did Xiao know? You decided not to comment on it right now. You had a harbinger to find.

  “Don't worry, I’m okay. This is nothing.” You smiled softly at Xiao. It felt nice to have the normally stone cold yaksha care for something as small as a slight burn on your hand. If you had a heart perhaps it’d skip a beat.

  The deeper you went into the cave the more lost you got in your own thoughts about the previous peculiar events. Of Xiao’s knowledge and his familiarity with you. It felt so out of place.

  “I feel something.” Zhongli spoke up, his deep voice echoed inside the cave. 

  “What is it?” You tried to listen in but you couldn't hear anything. 

  “I can’t tell which way it's coming from.” In front of you were two long, dark corridors.

  “Do we split up?” The moment the words left your mouth, the ground shook beneath your feet. Xiao immediately held you steady by the arm while his free hand found purchase on the nearby wall. “I guess we don't need to split up after all.” 

  The rumbling of earth was coming from the right corridor. When the earthquake stopped, you walked forward following the loud noises. You could see an exit at the end of the constricting tunnel, dim light that wasn't there before, shining through it.

  Out of nowhere, Xiao gently grabbed your wrist again. “You should extinguish that before we go any further.” Ah, yes, Childe wasn't supposed to know. You quickly extinguished the flame in your palm and was about to put on your glove when you noticed Xiao wasn’t letting go of your wrist.

  “I know some herbs that help with burns. We should look for some later.” He said, looking intently at your reddened palm before finally letting go of your wrist and walking forward. Instead of the wound itself burning, it was the skin that he had touched along with your reddening cheeks. 

  Before you could dwell on the action even more there was another earthquake and this time you could hear the sounds of fighting and… a roar? What exactly was at the end of the tunnel? You hurried til the end of it just in time to watch Childe being thrown high into the air by what seemed to be a moving assortment of… boulders? It looked like big rocks being held together by pure elemental energy. It stood in the middle of a giant cave opening with light shining through a hole in the ceiling.

  “I haven't seen one of these in a long time.” Zhongli seemed all to calm as he mused with a hand on his chin. 

  “Comrades! Took you long enough to join me!” Childe had noticed you from across the field and waved enthusiastically before he was thrown into the air once more. 

“We should help!” You ran without even thinking, the instincts beaten into you kicking in. Xiao told Childe you had an electro vision, so you had to be mindful not to impulsively use any other element. That seemed easy enough. You could do it.

  “Don't run into danger out of the blue!” Xiao growled from behind you as he ran after you and toward the stone creature.

  “I wonder if they can take down a geovishap by themselves and her… being able to use only one of her elements, she’s not used to that.” Zhongli stood silently at the sidelines to observe you fight. He wondered if you still used the techniques he taught you. 

  “I am not going to believe you if you say you only heard of the commotion until now.” Childe landed beside you and wiped the blood at the side of his mouth.

  “Where did you even go?” You asked him, paying half attention to the stone monster’s position. It seemed to have backed up a little, wary of the newcomers. 

  “My hands were itching for a fight after the disappointing one I had with this little adeptus,” Childe replied, panting. 

 He looked a little beaten up which surprised you a little. When you'd watched him fight Xiao last night, he looked like a very talented fighter.

“You were really this disappointed over losing? Don't fret it, not many can beat me.” Xiao said from beside you. 

 He looked just a little bit smug, which put an annoyed expression on Childe’s face.

“I didn't lose! I was just -” 

  “Can you stop fighting for just a moment? We need to find a way to stop this thing.” You interrupted him. 

 You didn't need them fighting each other and the giant boulder that looked as if it made up its mind that you were the enemy and was getting ready to charge at you. 

 “We can't attack it head first without thinking of some strategy. Not many elements work against geo creatu-” You stopped. 

 Childe was already charging at it, a water bow in his hand and trying to shoot the tiny shiny thing on its forehead. Something you guessed was a potential weak point. You sighed in annoyance and looked at Xiao, trying to silently communicate to him. He gave you a small nod. You both charged at the monster, following Childe. All the while you manifested a white sword in your hand, infusing it with as much electro as you could muster.

 Childe’s water attacks didn't even phase the monster, you tried to stupify it with your electro charges but it wasn't’ working. Xiao was trying to immobilise its feet but it proved futile. It’s geo skin seemed harder than any other geo enemy’s. You knew if you and Childe weren't there to get in the way of his attacks he would’ve been done with the monster already.

 You noticed that last night, too. How swift and fast his movements were, with every swing from his spear precise and thought out. The way he moved felt like art to you.

 “Nothing seems to work against it.” You said after you put some distance between it.

 “We just need to take out that silver sigil from its forehead.” Childe jumped next to you, having been flung yet again in the air. “I accidentally awoke it by placing that thing into some engraved stone. Never thought it’d awake a giant angry boulder monster like that,” he chuckled. 

 He was enjoying this, this fight and the fact that he couldn't beat the creature as easily. The masochist.

 “I need to take a closer look. If the right strategy would be to try and take out the sigil then why do you have us trying to beat it into submission.” You looked pointedly at Childe and he only laughed at you in response. 

 “I’ll watch your back while you try to get close to its forehead. Be careful of its arms - they may look like they are not even going for you but when they hit the ground, it’ll send you flying.” Xiao spoke. He didn't have one scratch on him, his fast movements evaded every attack of the monster.

 “As much as I’d like to continue this exciting fight, I guess we do need to head out soon. Be careful, ojou-chan.” Childe winked at you and then he was off.

The harbinger distracted the creature while Xiao leapt around you, watching its every movement, deflecting some of the strikes coming towards you. After jumping around, circling around the creature you managed to land on its back. The moment it felt you it tried to fling you off, shaking uncontrollably. Yelping, you tried to hold onto some of its stone scales and slowly climbed up to its head. 

 Its head was even more unsteady than the rest of its body, swinging it around wildly. You were just about to grab the sigil before you lost your footing and nearly slipped off save for one hand trying to desperately hold on. You struggled to pull yourself up as you were swung around. You barely managed to grab onto the sigil, eyes widening at the symbol on it before you were completely thrown off from the creature. 

  Your thoughts were still fogged with the surprise you felt to even try to land a clean landing. You closed your eyes and braced for impact, but it never came. Instead you felt warm arms catch you and swiftly jump from stone to stone. You opened your eyes to see Xiao, eyes concentrated on not getting hit by one of the many crumbling stones.

 Looking back you watched the creature continuously hit the ground with its crumbling arms, creating one shock wave after another. This couldn't be good and Xiao knew that as well.

 “Hold tight.” He muttered into your ear as he held you closer. 

 You weaved your arms around him and hid your head in his neck as you watched the creature wail pitifully as it crumbled away into nothing. However, the ground still continued to shake as it split in two as the ceiling caved in on itself. It was complete chaos from that moment on.  You watched Childe stumble before he was steadied by a stone pillar made by Zhongli who you guessed was nearby, after that you lost sight of them both.

 The last thing you heard was Xiao’s curse as more heavy stones fell and everything went black.

A Story’s Analyzation Chapter 2 : A New Morning, for Old Evenings...

It seems I completely forgot to add notes (and one more tag) to the last chapter.... *slowly runs away embarrassed* Please excuse me of my mistakes, this is my very first work..... And yes, I don’t have an editor. All the typing and editing is done by me..... so expect some (maybe a lot of mistakes) in my works. As it is, I am posting all the other chapters from ao3 and finally post the new chapter by tomorrow..... I hope you enjoy this chapter! Have a great day ahead! (P.s. I would really like some fic writing advices/suggestions!)

*****************************************

“What is this a set for a horror film?” Mc says looking at the mansion in front of them. It was a big mansion but it felt cold, creepy and too much eerie. “Mc, this the House of Lamentation.” Satan says while looking at them with curiosity. Mc lets out a small “oh”.  Mc looks at Lucifer and asks him, “Hey, what about my stuff? You know like clothes, etc. etc.?”

“They are already transported in your room.” He replies as he unlocks the door.

“Eh? Really?”

“Yes.”

After entering all the other brothers except Lucifer and Mammon retreat back to their rooms. “We’ll meet each other tomorrow, sweetie!” Asmodeus looks at them with the same sparkling eyes from before. “Yes, we will if you stop trying to get in my pants for a damn second.” They say uninterested not even looking at him. “My how cold!” he continues with very concerning face as if saying ‘Challenge Accepted’. He gives them a flying kiss before finally going back in his room.

“Be very careful with that one, human.” Mammon says while looking at them seriously. Mc looks at with shock, “Aww, it seems u care for me!”

“Wha- I don’t!”

“You do!”

“Shut up, you crazy human!”

Lucifer coughs loudly to get our attention, “We shall now show your room, come follow me.”

“Alright!” They say with a cute face. Lucifer looks at Mammon who is blushing and mumbling how cute were right now.

********

“This is your room.” Lucifer looks at them with a smile who is ignored by the said human who is excited as a child on Christmas. “Woah! This is so cool!”

Lucifer doesn’t know if to feel offended or to smile at their cute excitement. While being lost at his current confusion, Mc’s voice draws him back to reality, “Hey, is there anything else I need to know?”

“A-ah yes, your RAD uniform and other clothes are kept in the closet.” ‘Di-did I just stuttered?!’ Lucifer thinks to himself. “Tch” he looks at the wall of vines as if to will them on fire for this embarrassment. He then looks at Mammon who was behind him was trying his best not to laugh at his brother. Lucifer glares at him which makes Mammon feel as if he lost 100 years of his life. All while this is happening the human looks around the room. They finally look at the RAD uniform in the closet. “What in the hell is this, monstrosity of a cloth?”

“That is the uniform, stupid human.” Mammon looks at them snickering.

“If this is a uniform, why is it so……” Mc drifts off as they don’t have words to describe the uniform. “Seriously, whose design is this? Most importantly, who approved of it?”

“Stop complaining about the uniform. You will wear it even if you don’t like it.” Lucifer says with ‘oh scary and commanding voice’. Mc sighs, putting the uniform back in the closet. The look at them.

….

“Uh, guys?”

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you going back in your rooms? Because I am gonna change out these clothes.”

Both of them look at them with shock as if they remembered something very important, they forgot. Lucifer says nothing but a small goodnight. Mammon stutters out how it’s the human’s fault he forgot.

“They are quite cute!” Mc thinks aloud after finally searching for their clothes and changing into them. ‘Well let’s see what happens tomorrow……’ they think as finally slumber takes over them.

******

“Good morning…” Mc says finally coming down in the dinning room from their room and also from finally wearing the disaster of an outfit that is called as the uniform in this place.

“Good morning Mc, Darling!” Asmodeus calls them across the table. “Good morning and please leave me alone if you are still trying to get me on your bed, cause I’m not in the mood.” They say as they take their seat. “Well, good morning to you too, Mc” Satan speaks as he enters the room, they nod at him with a smile. “Good morning, Beel.” they say as the said man in eating his breakfast with a lot of speed. Beel too, nods at them as if say ‘yeah good morning’.

“Good morning, Mc.” Lucifer greets them across the table sitting on the chair like a king drinking his coffee, “the one thing I forgot to mention was that we take turns in the kitchen to cook for our daily meals. Now that you are also a resident of this house it’s only fair for you to take a turn as well.”

“Ah, yes I will.” They say with a tired smile.

“Hm? Did you not have a good sleep?” he looks at them.

“Do you want to hear me complain about the uniform, again?” Mc dead pans at him. Some small snickers and laughs could be heard from the residents sitting the room.

“…..No”

“Alright.”

Lucifer looks around the table as if something is missing, “brothers, where is Levi-”

Just then the door opened with a loud bang. ‘Seriously, they should stop entering dramatically with a bang. Does this family have drama in their veins instead of blood?’

“MAMMON!” the new male with indigo coloured-hair is angrily walking towards Mammon who is flustered. “Ah, here comes the tax collector” he says while trying to run. But before he could he the man is already at Mammon’s throat; he goes on about saying how he wanted his money back from Mammon so he could buy a figurine.

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed, what have you done now?” Lucifer asks pinching his nose bridge.

“Avatar of Greed?” Mc asks.

“Yes, Mammon’s the Avatar of Greed and the second eldest.” Satan fills the blank in Mc’s question.

“Second eldest?”

“Yes, we are seven brothers in total. Lucifer the eldest of us, Mammon the second eldest, the guy who is trying get his money from Mammon is Leviathan third eldest Avatar of Envy, me the fourth brother, Asmodeus the fifth brother and Beelzebub the sixth brother……” Satan says with a hushed voice while looking at them with a serious face.

“Wait, but you just said there are seven of you-”

“GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SCUM!” Leviathan….?..... screams at the top of his lungs. This makes Lucifer angry and lash at them “BOTH OF YOU BE QUIET! I’VE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES NOT TO FIGHT DURING MEALS. IF YOU CONTINUE THIS BEHAVIOUR, I’LL HANG BOTH OF YOU FROM THE CHANDELIER FOR REST OF THE WEEK!”  this seems to quieten down both of them and they sit down.

After a moment of silence……

“Aaaah! Lucifer a stranger! Why is a stranger here?!” Leviathan screams yet once again while pointing a finger at Mc. Lucifer holds his head in his hands as if contemplating his life decisions.

This time, Asmodeus decides to fill in Leviathan with the information and explain it to Leviathan in a very excitable tone even talking about how they did not got seduced by him and how ‘he will change that’. Leviathan looks at Mc as if looking at a tiger in a zoo for the first time and trying to ask ‘this one doesn’t bite right?’

After eating his breakfast, he goes back to his room it seems, while the others gather near the front door. Mc asks Mammon if Leviathan doesn’t go to RAD. “……He doesn’t like crowds.” Mammon answers as he looks at Leviathan’s room door with a frown.

********

“So, how was your rest of the first day here?” Diavolo asks with an excited tone and a giant smile. Currently Lucifer, Mc, Diavolo and his green-haired butler Barbatos who Diavolo finally introduced to Mc are sitting in the gazebo- like place in a garden between the RAD building and the Royal Palace.

“It was good. I am excited for the days to come.” They say as they sip the tea that Barbatos made. ‘I should probably ask him the name of the tea. It’s really nice.’ Regardless, of the first impression that Barbatos had it seemed that he was polite if not a little friendly with Mc.

“Great! Anyways, what do you in Human World Mc?” you can literally see the stars of excitement in his eyes, “Pardon my excitement, its just this is my first time talking to a human!”

Mc chuckles at this, “I don’t do much, I am scientist, I create some magical implements for the officers at the place I work at.”

“Oh? What is this place you work at?” Lucifer asks curious at the mention of magic.

“Was it not mentioned in my file? The student file, I mean.” they look at him with a question mark on their face.

“Ah, no. It wasn't there for some reason.”

“Lucifer that is dangerous you know. I mean what would happen if it wasn’t me but a mob boss or someone dangerous?” Mc tells Lucifer in a slight teasing tone.

“…..”

“But anyways, what place do you work in?” Diavolo with a bright voice trying to change the subject.

“Hmm….. Let’s say a police force or the Organization but instead of arresting those without magic they arrest the ones that misuse magic for their own good by destroying people’s life in the process. I help them by creating new useful implements and providing with said implements.” They finish as the bring the cup to their lips to drink their tea.

Diavolo looked like he was over the moon after hearing the new information. While Barbatos’s expression was unreadable. Lucifer was between curious and doubtful.

“I do write Novels under an alias as well.”

“Really?! What type of novel? What is your alias?”

Mc smiles at this, “That’s a secret!”

“Aww….”

“At what position do you stand in the Organization?” Barbatos asks with a knowing smile.

“Ah, one of the Founders.”

“Founder? You created the Organization?” Diavolo asked excitedly.

“Yes, with my friends to be exact. After graduation my friends and I used to work for another police force until we revolted and things went a little out of control. When things became normal, we created said police force or rather the Organization.”

“Why did you revolt?” Lucifer asks them with an unreadable expression.

“….. Many people died even some my family-like friends too………. that place….. abandoned us to die…..not only that the killed a lot their own officers……we didn’t want more people to die that’s why………” they answer with sad and longing voice.

“Mc…. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, no don’t be you just asked it out of curiosity.” They give him a small smile. He continues to look at them, at their eyes to find an answer if they were really alright. They too look at him with concern in their eyes.

“Ahem.”  Diavolo’s voice removes both of them from their trance. “I truly apologize if we resurfaced some not so good memories.” He gives them an apologetic smile.

After that, they talk about everything else to change the topic from the past.

Mc happily talks about their favourite cuisine form the human world, and promises The Fantastic Three, that they will make it for everyone to taste. They also talk about their favourite cake and pastries all while Lucifer looks at them with softness in his eyes. Diavolo of course notices this and smirks at Barbatos.

….

Barbatos can feel the literal excitement of his Young Master. He sighs internally knowing of what’s to come…

Just then a pair of new people enter in the room. One them speaks “Greetings Lord Diavolo, Barbatos and Lucifer.” While the other one is hiding behind him  

“Yes, Good Afternoon Simeon. Mc, this is Simeon one of the exchange students from the Celestial Realm.” Mc extends their hand, “I am Mc, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Simeon.”

“Likewise.” Simeon shakes hands with them and smiles.

“Ah, it has been while, Chihuahua.” Lucifer’s smug voice is heard

‘Chihuahua?’ they think themselves.

“I TOLD YOU SO MANY TIMES I’M NOT A CHIHUAHUA YOU DAMN DEMON!” a childlike voice screams at him as a new person comes in Mc’s view. ‘Wait, a child?’

“Ah, this is Luke the Chihuahua, Mc. He’s the other exchange student from the Celestial Realm.” Lucifer says with a smug expression.

Mc looks at Luke. Luke looks at Mc. Mc walks over to Lucifer-

“Do Not Insult My Child.”

…………

………

…….

…..

….

…

..

.

‘Seriously, did they lost all sense by bringing a cute harmless child in such a dangerous game?

….

*Sigh*

Well, this story is quite chaotic….. it seems none them even realize that the Organization’s name wasn’t even mentioned. Well, I shouldn’t complain after all it does gives me an advantage for cutting some slack……

…

Huh? Who are you?

…

Oh, I see its you.

Tell me of your day, how was it?

…. Hm? Confused, are we?

It’s alright, I know who you are……….

…………….

………….

………

…..

…

..

.

Reader~. hehehe’    

karasuno’s mixtapes (pt. i)

✎ ameris’ notes. i wanted to create some playlists that the karasuno team might listen to. each one is specialized for each character!! along with my thoughts owo and these are all japanese songs that i’ve listened to!

YouTube + Spotify links included; not all songs are on Youtube and not all songs are on Spotify ):

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it!! Also,,, the spotify QR code kinda look ugly on these headers so i took them off,,, but if it’s easier for anyone i’ll put them back on and replace the current ones 

i am also personally going to fight tumblr for not letting this show up in the tags. i’ll keep this one up for now. 

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ⇾ Tsukishima Kei, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Nishinoya Yuu, Sugawara Koushi, Hinata Shouyou, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Part 2 (includes the rest of Karasuno) 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯

【 artist || title (romaji/translation of title) 】  ⇽ track organization ☆ ⇽ personal favorites

link to post w/ all separate playlists

I feel like with how much he always has those headphones on, he probably has a range of music. From pop, indie, alternative, etc. He probably doesn’t really care much about lyrics and the meaning, though I don’t think he’d really vibe with songs that are explicit, as in sex lol, unless it’s something that’s more abstract yknow. He’s also not opposed to them either though. Just not preferred? I think if they just have a good beat or the melody fits with his current vibes at the time it’ll work. It’s funny that I don’t really write for Tsukki that much but I wanted to make his playlist first.

I think he has different playlists for what he’s doing at the time. If he’s on his way to school, and Yamaguchi isn’t with him, he’s probably listening to something upbeat to wake himself up. After practice on his way home, he’s probably listening to something chill to just relax after grueling practice.

Definitely has music based on his moods. I also feel like he has a preference towards indie music?? I have no clue why but I just feel like he does. He also probably has a few artists he keeps an eye on for when they have new releases but he isn’t obsessed with just one artist (Indigo la End is one of the artists I think he’d like). There are definitely songs on here he’d rather die than have his team know he listens to, Yuwakuno Party being one of them.

Out of the entire team, I think you’d be better off asking Tsukki (or Suga) for song recs. But it’s only a matter of whether or not he’ll give you them.

Track No. 01: 【 Indigo la End || 楽園 (Rakuen) 】 Track No. 02: 【 Indigo la End || チューリップ (Tulip) 】 ☆ Track No. 03: 【 Official髭男dism (Official HIGE DANdism) || Clap Clap 】 Track No. 04: 【 Shiggy Jr. || Yuwakuno Party 】 Track No. 05: 【 Shin Rizumu || Kanojo No Camera 】 Track No. 06: 【 KEYTALK || Sympathy 】 Track No. 07: 【 DADARAY || 誰かがキスをした (Dareka ga Kiss woshita) 】   Track No. 08: 【 frederic || Oddloop 】 Track No. 09: 【 Lucie,Too || Lucky 】 Track No. 10: 【 Aimer || Katamoi 】☆

He probably listens to either hip hop, pop, rock, or the cute love songs (sad/angst or the good one’s he likes both). LOL Not that love is it’s own genre it’s just, they’re good. He likes it, any type of genre. Of course, whenever he’s the DJ for the day, he makes sure he doesn’t play cute love songs, cus he’s got an image to uphold, ya know?

I ALSO feel like he likes rap music? My friend and I were talking about that so like owo I think he and Noya have the same music tastes as well but I’ll probably only put one or two songs that are the same for either.

He doesn’t organize his playlists very well. I’m sorry. I just feel like he doesn’t?? But he knows which playlists are for what. They definitely range from playlists he listens to when he thinks about Kiyoko (or you heheh) to whichever he wants to listen to and that one playlist somehow has the songs, and the only songs he wants to listen to at that moment. Actually, there should be a correction, it’s not organized well to people who look at his playlists but it’s organized to himself.

I also think he’s a big fan of JPOP groups. I think he’d probably be a fan of Nogizaka46, and this is where he and Noya will probably have a disagreement (but they still listen to the other’s favorite jpop group because its still good music ya know). Sad uwu

Track No. 01: 【 RHYMESTER || After 6 】 ☆ Track No. 02: 【 TENDOUJI || Killing Heads 】 Track No. 03: 【 BREIMEN || IWBYL 】 Track No. 04: 【 神山羊 (or Yoh Kamiyama) || YELLOW 】 ☆ Track No. 05: 【 Nogizaka46 || Influencer 】 Track No. 06: 【 AKB48 || 失恋、ありがとう(Shitsuren, Arigatou) 】* Track No. 07: 【 ぼくのりりっくのぼうよみ (Boku no Lyric no Bōyomi) || 輪廻転生 (Rinne tensei or aka Reincarnation) 】 Track No. 08: 【 YonYon, SIRUP || 選択 (Mirror) 】 Track No. 09: 【 鈴木麻美子 (Suzuki Mamiko) || Blue 】 ☆ Track No. 10: 【 SEEDA || Daydreaming (ft. 16FLIP) 】

*(not on Spotify, added a cover instead)

I feel like Noya listens to pop, rock, indie, and like Tanaka the cute love songs and rap songs :3c. I want to say that Noya’s the one that finds the various love songs and gives Tanaka the recommendations. The song genre I think that was playing during that one episode where Ukai had videos of everyone and it was Nishinoya’s video, I think that was rock?? So that’s where the whole rock genre comes from anyway so lol.

In terms of a JPOP group I think he’s a fan of, it’d be AKB48 who are rivals with Nogizaka46 lul. And look, I want to say when I was researching into the music culture in Japan, it’s usually the girls that are fans of JPOP groups? But, I feel like Tanaka and Noya would be fans of them ;-;

I think Noya either organizes his playlists like in a keyboard smash all caps, and only he knows, or there’s just a bunch of playlists that are like “new Playlist” or whatever the defaults are loool.

Track No. 01: 【 BREIMEN || IWBYL 】 Track No. 02: 【 E ve || あの娘シークレット (The Secret About That Girl or aka Anoko Secret) 】  ☆ Track No. 03: 【 E ve || 心予報 (Heart Forecast or aka Kokoroyohou) 】 Track No. 04: 【 Saucy Dog || いつか  (Itsuka) 】 ☆ Track No. 05: 【 AKB48 || 恋するフォーチュンクッキー (Fortune Cookie in Love) 】* Track No. 06: 【 KID FRESINO  || Cats & Dogs (feat. カネコアヤノ) 】 Track No. 07: 【 THE BACK HORN || ハナレバナレ (hanarebanare) 】 Track No. 08: 【 Friday Night Plans || Plastic Love (cover) 】 Track No. 09: 【 eill || HUSH -MONJOE REMIX- feat. Kick a Show 】 Track No. 10: 【 Monkey Majik + m-flo || Picture Perfect 】**

*(not on Spotify, no track on there, if someone found a cover or anything lmk) **(collab between the two artists)

Suga doesn’t really care which kind of songs he listens to. He likes them all. I feel like he leans towards “softer” songs, whatever that means, though I tried putting in a range of songs for this mixtape. Maybe I’m projecting here because I love Suga and I see a lot of myself in him, but he just likes the chill music. Which is funny because of how feral he could be. He definitely has songs he listens to that are more upbeat though. I also think he likes rap. But like I said, I don’t think he really has a preference of what genre of songs he listens to.

He has multiple playlists, from what he’s feeling mood, what activity he’s doing (working out, homework, cooking, etc.), to just what he wants to listen to at the time. Which means that playlists changes a lot because of how much he deletes and adds so he can have “atm vibes”. I think he also gives them funny names, maybe throwing in emoticons so some people don’t know what playlist is for what but he does!

I think Suga would give great music recs too. He has range so he can give anything for any genre. I think out of everyone here, Suga has to be the best DJ. He just knows what songs to play that fits best with the group and the vibe that’s going on.

Track No. 01: 【 mabanua || Blurred 】 Track No. 02: 【 Saucy Dog || いつか  (Itsuka) 】 ☆ Track No. 03: 【 I Don’t Like Mondays. || LEMONADE 】 Track No. 04: 【 Indigo la End || 小粋なバイバイ (Koikinabyebye) 】 Track No. 05: 【 DADARAY || イキツクシ (Ikitsukushi) 】 Track No. 06: 【 ビッケブランカ (Vickeblanka) || WALK (long ver.) 】 Track No. 07: 【 ゲスの極み乙女。(Gesu no Kiwami Otome) || シアワセ林檎 (shiawaseringo) 】 Track No. 08: 【 Lucky Tapes || レイディ・ブルース (Lady Blues) 】 Track No. 09: 【 Polkadot Stingray || Ichidaiji 】 Track No. 10: 【 DAOKO || Tokyo-Kick-Ass 】 ☆*

*Spotify ONLY

OKAY so it’s already been confirmed that Hinata reads manga. I dunno how into it he is but I feel like it’s more lowkey than Tendo and also because I feel like he does spend more time with volleyball. But I also think he still does watch anime every now and then and his little sister probably watches a lot of Sailor Moon so he’s bound to have watched that too. Like that’s so cute I love sailor moon. If you don’t know what I’m trying to get at, I want to say that his playlist does consist of anime openings and endings. BECAUSE THEY’RE GOOD OKAY.

I also think maybe Vocaloid?? Like maybe he finds a few vocaloid songs because he found it through youtube recommend when he listened to anime openings and stuff. But otherwise, I think as he and his sister gets older he probably listens to what his sister does because sometimes he’s just too busy to find music (which is valid because I know my brother’s music that he plays and whenever I play something new all of a sudden it’s on his playlist, i’m also the younger one)? Or he listens to whatever is in passing (like what his friends listen to) or, again, anime openings and endings.

He probably kinda attempts to organize his playlists at first but eventually he gave up? So he probably just listens to whatever is on his library of songs and skips whatever songs he’s not feeling. If he does organize anything, it’s by songs from who recommended it or where he heard it from. Like anime songs, or songs heard from natsu, or suga, etc.

Track No. 01: 【 yama || Cream 】 Track No. 02: 【 uki3 || cutlery (self cover) 】 Track No. 03: 【 WhaleDontSleep || Osmanthus (feat. Ado) 】 Track No. 04: 【 KANA-BOON || スターマーカー (Starmaker) 】 Track No. 05: 【 KANA-BOON || Silhouette 】 Track No. 06: 【 RADWIMPS || Sparkle 】 Track No. 07: 【 DAOKO×米津玄師 || 打上花火 (Fireworks) 】 ☆ Track No. 08: 【 YOASOBI || Racing into the Night 】* Track No. 09: 【 D-51 || Brand New World 】 Track No. 10: 【 WhaleDontSleep || ねむるまち feat.yama (Sleeping Town) 】 ☆

*(not on Spotify, added a cover (?) instead)

IS IT BAD THAT I THINK YAMAGUCHI WOULD LISTEN TO SAD MUSIC??? LIKE Okay he probably has a few things he likes but some that stick out would be rock, indie, or indie rock. Like, he grew up with Tsukki they probably listen to the same music together ya know? So with that in mind, they have similar artists and genres in general I think. Yamaguchi listens to songs with good beats he can vibe to or those soft songs he can listen to when he’s like taking the train and going through the day wanting to chill or whatnot. He also probably names his playlists like “chill dayz,” “just want to vibe,” “!!!! kinda day,” etc. lol it’s pretty cute but also I felt that.

Track No. 01: 【 R Sound Design || flos 】 ☆ Track No. 02: 【 KEYTALK || Passion 】 Track No. 03: 【 Vaundy || 東京フラッシュ (Tokyo Flash) 】 ☆ Track No. 04: 【 the shes gone || 想いあい (omoiai) 】 Track No. 05: 【 SPiCYSOL || Mellow Yellow 】 Track No. 06: 【 Brian the Sun || 神曲 (Kamikyoku) 】 Track No. 07: 【 indigo la End || 緑の少女 (Midori No Shoujo) 】 Track No. 08: 【 Luck Life (ラックライフ)  || 名前を呼ぶよ 】 Track No. 09: 【 Official髭男dism (Official HIGE DANdism) || ノーダウト 】 Track No. 10: 【 Kiro Akiyama || Caffeine 】 ☆

✎ ameris’ notes. Not all of these are mainstream in Japan but some of them are! I’m not too sure about a few cultural aspects (specifically for the popularity of Vocaloid or any other synthetic vocals within Japan) so this is my disclaimer that these are just songs I’ve found for this purpose or listen to that I think would suit these characters; either through what I see them listening to or if the song reminded me of them.

Also i didn’t know some of these songs/artists did anime openings/endings and etc. but at the same time i’m not surprised.

I mostly made these because I’ve been getting back into Japanese music, mostly indie, or alt. Or like indie rock or indie pop... We can tell where my taste in music is lol.

Grey Canyon 14/?

Rating: Current Chapter: PG, Series: up to Mature Categories: Western AU / MSR / WIP WC: 2546 / Total WC: 23,827 Updated on Mondays and Fridays.

Thank you to @ceruleanmilieu for the beta! ❤️ Tagging: @impulsive-astrophile @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @sculderfan​ @today-in-fic (let me know if you want to be tagged when I post!)

all chapters in order: ao3 / tumblr

CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6 / CH 7 / CH 8 / CH 9 / CH 10 / CH 11 / CH 12 / CH 13

CHAPTER 14: “Sunrise/sunset”

Grey Canyon, Colorado 1885

Nothing frustrated Mulder more than inaction. It was his biggest strength, and yet also his weakness. He would not shy away from doing what was needed, except when it came to waiting. And yet, waiting has been imposed on him in two ways. First, by the circumstances involving Dana’s brothers. He did not know if they were close, or if they had no idea where she was. He would not take the chance to investigate, to expose her, or to leave her alone for longer than an hour or two. Second, the impasse he’d placed upon himself regarding his relationship with Dana, upon furthering their intimacy. He would do what was right, it was important. But what did that look like? He didn’t know, it was only a feeling he had, deep in his gut.

His mind kept turning back to yesterday morning’s pathetic proposal. Then, to awakening next to her, the smell and feel of her body next to his as she clung to him in sleep. The way her hair shone against the backdrop of the sunrise through her window, a cloud of golden-red. When she awoke, the smile she gave him, secret and special. And the gentle kiss she’d pressed to the hand that rested on her shoulder. He would have that future: living through every sunrise with her next to him. He didn’t know why he could not let himself stay, to enjoy her entirely. To avoid her disappointed gaze when he left, over and over.

So, he brooded. Sat at the bar, chin on his fist, staring at the wall but not seeing it. He felt some solution was within his reach, just out of his grasp. The idea floated just underneath his consciousness, fuzzy and unclear.

Suddenly, a vague shape coalesced.

“Melvin!”

The barkeep sauntered over to him after pouring Walt a drink, frowning and silent.

“What was that story you told me a while back about your aunt?”

***

Early evening descended upon the Gilded Hall. The sun was well on its way to setting, the sky turning from bright blue to a more muted tone, hints of gold in the west along the ridges of the Rocky Mountains. Mulder shielded his eyes and watched from his vantage up on the roof of the hall. He paced, wiping his sweaty palms on his best trousers, checking to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything in his preparations.

After speaking with Melvin, he made quick work of his plans, invigorated by his idea. Madam had supplied him with the scarf, blue silk embroidered prettily with yellow daisies along the edges. Melvin, who was waiting inside, had washed his face and looked quite out of place in his suit, hair stuffed underneath his somewhat-cleaner black bowler hat.

The blanket he’d retrieved from Nellie, as she watched their preparations curiously. It was something she kept in her chest, a present from a former life, and she wanted Dana to have it. She handed it over, shyly remarking “Make sure to treat her right, Fox.”

He’d hoped this would do it. That she’d finally be treated right, as she deserved.

The tapping of the ladder summoned him from his reverie. He removed his hat, placing it on the blanket and cushions spread over the freshly swept roof. A couple chairs, an oil lamp for when the sun fell from the sky, and a covered dish with their dinner completed the picture.

The top of Dana’s hair poked out from the hole in the roof. Not meant to be commonly accessed, the open hatch, which Mulder discovered earlier in the afternoon, was the perfect final touch. The sunset, some stargazing, and something else that would finally allow him to explore the rest of his future with her.

“Some help, please!”

He rushed over and bent downwards, grabbing her arms and lifting her up onto the roof. She looked back down through the hatch and waved at Melvin.

“I think he got quite the show,” she said, quirking her eyebrow.

“I’m sure he’ll never forget it.”

She chucked and dusted off her blue gown where some dirt had clung to it in her climb. Then her eyes took in the view, her expression turning from amusement and curiosity to wonderment. It really was spectacular up here. Distant enough from the street to avoid the offensive smells and sounds. The plains rising up into mountains in the west, far enough away that the sun hadn’t yet disappeared behind them.

“What’s all this, then?” She turned to face him.

“A surprise. Something nice,” he said, guiding her to the blanket and chairs with a hand on her lower back.

“Well, all right then,” she said, her face flushing with pleasure and a smile peeking onto her lips.

They sat and ate, feeding each other bits of fruit and cheese and tearing off pieces of fresh bread. A few birds landed near them, and they shared their crumbs. He was happy to see her enjoyment, but as the backdrop of their dinner transformed into the painted hues of purple and red and orange, he felt his heart flutter, his hands start to sweat.

“Do you know why I prefer the sunset?” she asked, after their conversation went silent.

He shook his head, wiping his hands on his knees before taking the nearly-empty plate from her and placing it away from them.

“The stars,” she said. Her face tilted upwards at the sky, a few sparkling dots appearing in the canvas of deep blue above them. “My father would take me sailing, sometimes. Tell me stories about the constellations, the myths surrounding them. I feel as though he is here when I look upwards at night.” She lowered her gaze to him. “I don’t get much opportunity nowadays.”

“I know.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand, then got up from her chair and pulled him down next to her on the blanket. Sitting along her side and facing him, she leaned against the cushions on an elbow and looked skyward once more. Once he’d settled near her, his thumb brushing along her wrist, she began to speak again.

“You have heard the story of Andromeda?”

He nodded. “But I would hear it from you.”

“Let me show you, first,” she said, leaning close to him and pointing out a particularly bright set of stars. “You see those stars there, that form a square?”

He followed her finger, tearing his gaze from her face. “Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s Pegasus. Follow it there, upwards slightly…” She directed his gaze, and at first he could not see anything except a chaotic mess of white lights against an inky backdrop. But then it came together, and he could see the pattern as she spoke, the rest of the stars fading to insignificance.

“I see it!” he exclaimed.

She smiled, and continued, telling him of the story of how an innocent daughter was abandoned by her family, chained to a rock and left for a beast, until a stranger came along and changed her fate. As she spoke, a wistful expression on her face, he could not help but make the comparison. He wouldn’t claim to have saved her, not yet at least, but he would certainly do whatever he could against the monster that was coming.

He no longer looked skyward. Her expression softened as she told the story, eyes shining as she not only remembered the tale, but the memory of the person who told it to her. He wanted to give her that, again, give her something from which she could look back and think only of warmth, instead of regret.

Trailing his hand along her arm, folded between them, he grasped her hand.

“You’re not looking at the stars,” she said, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“I am looking at what is most important,” he said, making her blush. “And I am listening.”

She touched his face, her thumb dragging along his bottom lip, eyes turned serious. “I wish you could have met him.”

“Your father.”

“He would have liked you.”

“A military man liking someone with outlandish ideas and designs for his daughter? I am doubtful.”

She laughed. “He would have seen you, as I do.”

“And what do you see?”

“A good man,” she said, leaning forwards and kissing him softly on his lips. She was very convincing.

She moved closer, leaning her head on his shoulder and continuing her search of the night sky, and within her own mind for happier times, he thought. His heart sped up, not only due to her proximity but of the question he still needed to ask her.

“Would I be Medusa, in that story, or perhaps the flying horse?” he joked.

She smiled widely at him, laughing freely. He slipped out from beside her and lit the oil lamp, the moon and stars their only illumination; they were draped in shadows and he wanted to see her. When he returned to her side, she grasped his hand within hers, pulling it to her mouth and kissing his palm.

“This… whole thing is lovely. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly very warm despite the chill of the night air. He twisted his collar, loosening it slightly and fidgeting next to her.

“What has gotten you so nervous, Mulder? You do know that these stories are only myths, right? Or do you also believe in sea monsters?” she teased.

He bowed his head. “I admit, I, uh, have an ulterior motive to all of this…” he said, waving his hands at the setting he’d created for them.

“Well, if it’s to get into this dress, you already know where I stand, so it must be something else,” she said playfully, her head tilting at him. “Out with it.”

“So, I’ve been thinking about our situation...” he started.

“‘Situation’?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

He flushed, laughed nervously. “I have another story to tell, and you can thank Melvin for it, although perhaps he’d already been paid with a good view.”

Dana smiled and nodded, patting his hand.

“He’s part Irish, like yourself, also part Scot. A mix of many things I suppose. Cherokee, too, he claims, though he lacks the height for me to believe that,” he said. He clasped her hand within his, squeezing it. “His aunt Katie told him the story about how she met her husband. There’s a tradition, over there, where they choose their mates through a wall, only having seen the woman’s hand. They are bonded then, for a year and a day…”

He stared at their hands, having no doubt he would know hers.

“It started a long time ago, when a priest was not available.”

When he looked back at her, her head was bowed as she waited, quiet and still.

“Once chosen, they would fasten a scarf around their hands, and they would live together as if married, for the year and a day, or until a child came, or a priest came by.”

He brought the scarf the Madam gave him from inside his pocket and placed it next to their hands.

“It only requires a witness, and Melvin agreed--”

“Stop,” Dana interrupted, withdrawing her hand. She stood up quickly and backed away a few steps.

“If he is too offensive, perhaps the Madam would agree…?” He stood as well, taking the scarf in one hand, reaching out to her with the other.

She shook her head, and he saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. “All of it, Mulder.”

“But--”

“The answer to your question is no, and I should have been clear before,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

Mulder’s shoulders slumped. “Of course… I shouldn’t have assumed that you wanted this, that I was… the marrying type.”

“Look at me,” she said, her voice sharp.

He did, massaging the back of his neck. This wasn’t turning out how he’d envisioned, the exact opposite, in fact. Instead of a happy Dana, kissing, and… perhaps more, she stood in front of him, upset and perhaps a little angry, for a reason he could not fathom. He waited, feeling the weight of guilt already settling on his shoulders.

“I do not need a fancy ring, or a scarf, or anything else to know how I feel about you. How you feel about me,” she started. Her eyes softened slightly, but she did not approach. “If my circumstances had been any different, if I’d ended up like one of the girls here, would I be any less worthy of your love, of your commitment?”

“Of course not,” he said.

From the look on her face, he guessed she did not believe him. “I am so tired of other people thinking they know what is best for me, or, as you say it, what I deserve.”

“Dana, I… do not mean it that way." He bowed his head, unable to look at her. Not wanting to fight, to turn this into something ugly, but the right words escaped him. He found his anger starting to build as well. How could she think such a thing? Then the doubt. Have I really made her feel that way?

“Maybe so. But that is not my only reason for my refusal,” she said. “I have seen what happens, when a woman gets married. My mother, my sister, my friends at college. A wife is treated as even less of an individual. Even if she fights against it, as my sister did, it changes her."

She stepped closer, pointing her finger at his chest but not quite touching it. Her cheeks were red and her eyes blazed.

"When I marry, I will no longer be myself. I become your wife, your property, not my own person. If you cannot understand that, then we are finished speaking."

"Dana I do not want a wife, I want you." He clenched his hands into fists, twisting the delicate scarf in his grasp.

"Even if you did not mean to change me, it would happen. And I do not mean to lose myself," she said, pursing her lips, and turning away from him.

He grabbed her arm to prevent her from moving away, his anger rising. "You say I am ridiculous, that I have crazy ideas, well yours is the most absurd idea I have ever heard. Just because we are together in some official capacity does not mean that anything changes!"

Dana stared at his arm, then looked up at his face, her eyes cold and furious. She spoke harshly. "No offense, sir, but you are not a woman. You do not know what it is like--”

“Dana--”

“I am not finished. If whatever object you conjure to bind us together does not change anything then why is it so important to you? Why do you insist on it before we take things further. It means something, to you at least... and I cannot give that to you."

Wrenching her arm away from his grasp, she stalked towards the hatch in the roof and climbed down as fast as her dress would allow. She did not look back.

Mulder stood there, shocked, the delicate scarf falling from his hand onto the dusty rooftop.

Radio Romance (Doyoung x reader, Jaehyun)

This was on my wattpad too! Do check them out, I am working on my SuperM fanfiction.

Warning : Fluff, Doyoung and Jaehyun are radio DJs! Sweet ones obviously 

fluff and safe for work ;)

enjoy !!!

A great hit by Adele fades out as the familiar prelude to my beloved radio segment chimes in. The catchy yet simple jingle makes me perks my ears.

"Good evening citizens! This is DJ Doyoung"

"And this is DJ Jaehyun. You are now listening to Night Paradise of One Two Seven Regular Radio"

"Where you can relax and sleep with sweet dreams." Said Doyoung.

"The time now is nine o'clock. It is Wednesday May 8 and tonight we will receive your song requests and of course the favorite Radio Romance program is still available." Jaehyunexplains their rundown.

I go to turn up the music louder, well the channel I am tuning in right now is our Campus' radio station and since freshman days, this radio station really helps me during the stress nights before finals until the lonely nights when I miss mother's home cook meal. I really love the program, listening to music, witnessing a guy confess to a girl he likes, sometimes I just like to listen to the bickering of the DJs, and mostly I just like having sounds in my silent room. I share an apartment with a foreigner from the same country but he is currently busy. And during these nights, the radio really entertains me.

"As we collect your messages and requests, first composition tonight will be from the latest hit by NCT. As the night is still early, we think a lot of our listeners are still sticking their nose to books and papers. To energize you, we present you Highway to Heaven." Jaehyun's deep voice echoes.

I smiled; this song is currently my mood booster. Picking up my pen, I can return to read my textbook and try my best to study more; Though it is challenging for me to keep on reading, instead of singing on top of my lungs while dancing wildly. As much as I want to do those two badly, I know that my parents sent me here to the United States from the Country of Ginseng and Kimchi to learn something and be someone. Halfway through the song, I can't hold back my feelings and grab my phone.

I quickly text a private message to someone,

"Seriously.. I can't focus. Finals are around the corner. Mum will kill me if A is not present."

I Hit the send button and locked my phone. I must not get carried away into chatting. That will end my life.

After calming my excited nerves with water, the radio DJs return with different love confessions and questions.

Ranging from

"What should I do to get this girl's attention? I'm super shy while she's the total opposite." The two each suggested dating advices. Which I believe were not from their experiences. It's definitely a google answer.

"I just broke up with my boy friend, and I need more comfort songs. Can you two please fulfil my request. Thanks, and DJ Jaehyun you're the best." To which Doyoung replies jokingly "Noted. More love songs. DJ Doyoung is in charge of songs tonight. You pick the wrong guy."

"I can't sleep tonight. I need to finish 3 works by 7 a.m. tomorrow. Please tune up the bpm." Jaehyun's cheeky remarks was "I think coffee will help you better than us. Our program ended at 10.. anyways, we hope you for the best! Fighting!"

Those are messages coming into their homepage

"Now moving on to the tweets, I have.." Doyoung laughs a bit

"To @osaka_prince I really miss you, let's meet for Takoyaki this week. Call me asap. From @nct_is_life"

"You heard that @osaka_prince, someone misses you! And next we have.."

tHis time Jaehyun's soothing voice exits the stereo

"To @ice_yongie how are you doing? I heard you tune into this channel regularly. Wish you all the best for your finals. From @fire_jung"

"Right... to every students, please stay healthy, have enough sleep, and prepare for your finals." Jaehyun said and continue with two more mentions.

After that they play another hit song, this time as the atmosphere starts to go bittersweet. Their choice was Because of You by Taeil.

The sweet voice and words I understands, made a good company for me. I finish reading my books as the last beat of the song drops and Doyoung'strademark voice comes in.

"We have one more hour to accompanyyour night. Now for the news, we have one from the school's Baseball team, one from the hospital and another from the cafeteria. After the news we'll head on to the Call Me Maybe segment. Please wait for it."

Jaehyun reads the news about the upcoming grand Baseball match this Thursday, it's Trojans vs Eagles. Don't forget to come with all your Trojans attire and merchandises we all know how the season will end. Winning is our middle name.

The next news was only about reminding students to take care of their health during finals and a new boba stall will open this Monday. Discount 50% for first 100 cups.

No matter how cheap that will be, I know I can't skip class just to queue for a boba. Not if I want to have my ass bloody red.

The Call Me Baby segment comes after 2 other compositions and oddly I love this segment. Though it may be weird to some people, listening someone making a voice note on air to their special ones and getting no reply.. still there is something in my heart that likes hearing those.

Apparently a lot of calls were desperate. From 5 voice message, 2 are clearly in a phase of knowing someone and trying to win their heart, the other 3 are asking how someone has been.. clearly they broke up one misses the other one, but have no choice other than to use the radio to ask his or her condition. Ego always wins right?

I feel bad for those three who cannot directly ask how the people who used to be special to them is feeling right now. Lucky I'm not in that condition.

Then they take a break with several advertisements and music.

I leave my room to wash my face and clean my books. Well I am sleepy, but I am waiting for someone to return home.

The radio DJs are currently online with the twitter. Since it is impossible to read every tweet on air, they take time answering some lucky listener's tweets. I scroll my twitter and smiles a little when my tweet got replied.

"Have strength! You can do it~" – DJ Doyoung

I retweeted it and afterwards continue scrolling and reading a lot of replies and stories. Apparently there's much more than love and broken heart problems. Some are posting questions of which food to eat, some are just saying hi, several others requested songs; others even post thank-you letters for the two DJ who work hard to make their nights enjoyable and fun.

I glance at the clock. It is 30 minutes to their closing. Turns out two hours is not a long time. Hufht if only every two hours lectures can be this quick and enjoyable.

The last segment was the story sharing time. Basically everyone can submit their inspiring stories to the channel's email and then the team will choose which one is good to share. Tonight the speaker was none other the school's favorite baseball captain. Lee Taeyong... he shares his baseball career path. He shares his hard works, his passion, and what keeps him moving forward. His 10 minutes talk is inspiring. I wiped a tear that falls from my eye, his story is really touching.

Jaehyun and Doyoung also seem to honor the man talking on air right now. They salute his never ending passion and hard work. Taeyong gets to greet some of his fans and cheer them up. The segment ends after 15 minutes and Both DJ wraps his visit by telling all listeners to support Taeyong and his team on field this Thursday.

More tweets are read and replied directly on air, soothing songs for sleeping also fills the room.

"We did not realize time is running. It was fun listening to your feeling. The stars are starting to shine on the clear sky. You might want to take a peek out of your window for a moment.And as the night deepens,our segment must end after this." Doyoung shares his regret.

"Right, we are sad Paradise Night is over, but worry not for we will see you again this Friday. Please keep on tuning into One Two Seven Regular Radio. I am DJ Jaehyun"

"and I am DJ Doyoung"

"We present you the last composition, UN Village by Baekhyun. Sweet Dreams and Good night." The two host harmonize and the calm upbeat prelude from UN Village takes over their voice.

My phone lights up as the song almost reach its chorus.

"I'm done. Going home now.. wait for me!"

I typed a reply and turn the volume louder.

I know that, I know that, I know Yes we are now

Hannam-dong UN Village hill Looking up at the moon from the hill

I walk from my room to the small balcony. The radio song fluently escapes my opened room. Isomehow remembered that Jaehyun or Doyoung earlier said the sky is bright. Turns out I can see sea of stars tonight. It's relaxing and pretty.

The front door of my apartment opens and closes. I turn around and see someone returning home with a tired face but a smile is still there.

"Thank you for waiting me... the stars are dancing tonight and the moon is big!" His attention distracted by the picturesque sky in front of our eyes. He stands beside me, one hand over my waist to bring me close to his warm body.

You and me, umm yeah

UN Village hill, eh

Side by side we look at the moon

We sway to the rhythm and the song ends not long after it. It was a nice closing song!

"I should be the one to say thank you!" I turn my head to face him.

He looks puzzled but a hint of smugness can't escape his lips which form a smile.

"Me? Why?"

"Because you did a great job hosting Paradise Night! I don't feel lonely and I can study better. Thanks to you and Jaehyun." I hug him and bury my face on his chest.

Doyoung softens at my words and returns my hug "Anything for my girl! Now, let me shower from the sweat of walking home.. and maybe I need some ramen tonight. I'm always hungry after hosting the radio." He walks to his room and after collecting his clothes and towel, he enters the toilet.

I make my way to the kitchen. Taking a pot to boil water and choosing our favorite night snack. While he clean himself under the shower, I prepare the dish and the side dishes.

"Hmmm it smells amazing! Thanks for cooking it for me." Doyoung greets me with a fresh smell of mint shampoo and he takes the sit across of me.

"Saranghae~" he sincerely gives me a heart with his fingers and digs into the food.

After a stifled laugh, I also begin eating mine.

Once again a beautiful night spent with the best radio DJ, who is luckily mine. Doyoung... na do saranghae💛

Prologue: The Well

A Post-Canon Inuyasha Romance/Adventure Epic

Also find it on: Fanfiction.net / AO3 / Wattpad

Words: 2,961

Full Chapter List & Description is here.

Prologue  •  Chapter 1  •  Chapter 2  •  Chapter 3  •  Chapter 4  •  Chapter 5  •  Chapter 6  •  Chapter 7  •  Chapter 8  •  Chapter 9  •  Chapter 10  •  Chapter 11 •  Chapter 12  •  Chapter 13

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It was late. He should've been at his castle, in his bed, if not sleeping then at the very least meditating to prepare for what was to come tomorrow.

But he could not. He was simply too restless.

And what better way for an Inu-daiyoukai to relieve his restlessness than to let his demon loose to hunt and relish in a kill?

Decision made, Tōga had flown for hours seeking a suitably powerful opponent to vent his frustrations upon. Until finally, he'd been drawn here to the meadow he now found himself in. He could sense that whatever power it was that had drawn him here was close...

Yet even as he moved towards it, his thoughts turned back to the source of his restlessness.

He did not really want to take that female as his mate tomorrow. But if he did not, he could not guarantee the security of his position in the West. The Inu-daiyoukai Kingdom of the Sky was too powerful. Their armies too unreachable, fortified from above as they were. It was their undeniable advantage, which meant that if he wanted his new Kingdom in the West to remain on good term with the Sky Pack he now called allies, then he had to cement their treaty by taking the female as his mate.

He thought again about her prideful eyes and the derisive way she'd looked down her nose at him all those years ago when they'd first been presented to one another during the public announcement of their betrothal. The memory of it made his eyes flash with fury once again.

Who did that woman think she was?! Did she not know who he was?! He was Tōga! The great Inu no Taishō! He had carved a bloody swath through Japan in a mere few centuries, claiming a vast territory in the West for himself and his Pack. He would NOT be looked down upon by some crescent-moon bitch!

And yet still he had to take the Sky hime to mate.

Hence his current restlessness. The situation was unpleasant, to say the least, but by all the Kami, he was determined to beget an heir upon her as soon as possible, cementing his undisputed position of power.

These were the thoughts that plagued him as he made his way across the meadow. Whatever this strange power was, it was even closer now, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint its source.

He stopped. Silver-white hair blew gently in the midnight breeze as the landscape glowed under the light of an almost-full moon. Tōga closed his eyes, allowing his demonic senses to reach out. It did not feel like the youki of a demon and yet…

He lifted off the ground, floating up into the air to better survey his surroundings. In the distance, across the nearby river, he could see a small human settlement. It was nothing more than a few scattered huts. He took no notice. It was beneath one such as he to take notice of things like anthills, or beehives, or human settlements.

Instead, he focused his senses on the hum of power that he could feel emanating from somewhere nearby.

And then he spotted it. A faint glow coming from further across the meadow, closer to the river. He swooped lower, hovering above the glow for a moment, before landing in the grass beside what appeared to be a well of some kind.

He could hear the faint trickling sound of water coming from within. Stepping forward, he looked down inside. The water at the bottom of the well was glowing a curiously phosphorescent blue-green.

He blinked a few times. The well appeared to be empty, and yet he could not deny the thrumming power that emanated from its depths. Curiosity piqued, he jumped lithely over the edge, seeking out the source of this strange power that called to him.

But Tōga's body hadn't even entered the well before a flash of light blinded him and a pulse of power sent him flying out of the square wooden frame and into the sky.

He hovered there for a moment, growling low to himself, allowing his eyes to readjust to the darkness after the light subsided.

Still, Tōga was not prepared for what he saw next.

Rising up out of the well, standing on a sparkling column of blue-green water, was a woman.

She was dressed in an iridescent shift-like gown, the fabric clinging to her as though it dripped with water. Her hair was a soft silver-blue colour that cascaded down her back and over her shoulders like waves on the ocean. Pointed ears were decorated with gems of different colours and thin strands of silver and gold chain adorned her neck and chest.

The woman looked up from her perch upon the column of water, locking eyes with Tōga. He unsheathed his sword, So'unga, and hovered, prepared to strike but waiting to see what would happen next.

He did not have to wait long.

"Come, come now, Tōga, Lord of the Western Lands. There is no need for that."

Tōga's eyes widened a fraction at her use of his name. "Who are you?" He asked.

"Me? In many lands I have many names… Amphitrite, Nephthys, some simply call me the Lady of the Lake… But you, Tōga, may call me Lady Nimue. I am the Kami of this well."

Tōga's eyes widened further still. "Kami?"

As powerful as he was, Tōga knew not to challenge a Kami in her own domain. To trifle in such matters was to court the unknown, and no ruler worth his steel would jump into a fray without first assessing his opponent.

Nimue did not answer his question. Instead, she said, "Come down here, Tōga. I would give you a gift on the eve of your mating."

Unwilling just yet to discount her claims of godhood, Tōga slowly lowered himself to the grass of the meadow, settling a few feet away from the well. He didn't yet sheath his sword, though. Instead, his stance remained predatory.

"Come now, puppy," Nimue said. "Put that thing away! What I have come to give you is too important for such nonsense."

Tōga felt the growl forming in his chest. How dare this woman call him a puppy! He didn't get the chance to voice his displeasure, however, because suddenly there was another blinding flash of light.

Blinking away the momentary blindness, he found himself seated on a plush stack of furs and cushions, So'unga sheathed and laying in the grass beside him.

Nearby, Nimue sat on her own plush pile, and a small fire now crackled just to his left, illuminating the slight greenish cast of her skin.

Tōga could not understand what had just happened. "How—?"

She cut him off. "For one such as I, time has no meaning. And yet, we haven't the time to waste."

From the corner of his eye, Tōga looked the Kami over with a wariness akin to respect. "What do you want of me?"

"Tōga, Tōga. Always so direct. Your question is not a difficult one, though you may not like my answer." She paused. "What I ask from you is no less than your life."

Tōga stiffened at her words, instinctively reaching out his hand toward So'unga.

"Stop, Inu no Taishō. I mean you no harm. Moreover, the war to come is not one that you can win by blade alone."

"A war? What mean you by these words? Is the Kingdom of the West under threat?" His voice rose with the repercussions of her words, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits at the idea.

Nimue laughed then. A lilting sound, like water trickling over the pebbles of a creek.

"No, no, my darling pup. The West is quite safe... For now at least."

Tōga was quickly losing patience. He felt the restless ire that had brought him to this meadow returning in full force.

"For now? What does that mean? You speak in riddles!"

Nimue did not answer. Instead, she cocked her head to the side, peering at him. "You dislike the path you are set to embark upon tomorrow."

It was a statement, not a question. Tōga said nothing, but his silence was confirmation enough.

She continued, "Would it soothe your soul then? To know that, for the safety of your kingdom, what will be MUST come to pass?"

Again, Tōga did not like the hidden meaning he felt hung in her words. The idea that his kingdom was under threat while he lounged beside a fire did not sit well with him.

"If you know of a threat to my power you must tell me!" It was a steely command, spoken in a tone that brooked no dissent.

She laughed again. "But of course, my Lord. Did I not tell you that I had a gift to give you?"

He merely glared at this woman who claimed to be a Kami. Kami or not, he did not like being toyed with.

Seeing the fire in his eyes, Nimue's face turned subtly contrite. She sighed. "Tōga, the gift I would give you bares a heavy burden, but for the sake of your kingdom… of your Pack… of so much more… I would see it given to you. It is not a gift I can force upon you, though. You must accept it of your own free will, knowing that from this day until your last, nothing will be the same for you again."

If Tōga had been anyone other than the Inu no Taishō, he may have squirmed uncomfortably at those words. Instead, he turned to look her fully in the face before asking, "And if I refuse your gift?"

"Then your sons, and the sons of your sons, and all youkai from now until the end of all days will perish."

Tōga inhaled sharply, his eyes widening in shock. After a moment he exhaled slowly, disbelief warring in his mind with the magnitude of the words this woman had spoken.

"How do you know this?"

"Puppy…" Nimue's eyes meet his. In a sad but firm tone, she continued. "Have I not just shown you that for one such as I, time has no meaning?"

Tōga's gold eyes shifted between the liquid blue of each of hers. Staring into them, he tried to assess the truthfulness of her words. Finally, as if in acceptance, he spoke again. "And this gift you wish to give me, it will protect my heirs from destruction?"

Nimue clarified, "It will set them upon the path. There are limits to even my power. What you do with the gift I give you – what they then do after that – will determine the inevitability of their fate."

Tōga turned his head back towards the fire, staring into the flames for a long moment. Calmly, he finally spoke. "I care NOT for lesser youkai, nor anyone else for that matter, but if your gift will ensure that my line will continue on… then I accept."

This time her laugh was a rueful one. "Very well, my Lord. Regardless of your reasons, you have accepted and so I will give you what it is I have come here to bestow."

Tōga glanced back at her then, looking from her hands to the furs and cushions around her. "I see nothing. Where is this gift you speak of?"

A soft smile pulled at the corners of Nimue's mouth. "The gift I would give you is two-fold. Come, sit closer by me. I will need to place my fingers upon your brow."

Reluctantly, Tōga shifted himself closer to the Kami. He watched her hand as it rose toward his forehead, stiffening slightly as her fingers crept closer.

Nimue paused just before touching him. In a voice barely above a whisper, she spoke again. "Remember, Tōga, you have accepted this two-fold gift of your own free will. And, as I said before, naught will be the same for you after this."

Tōga blinked once, then gave a slight nod. "I still accept."

Her cool fingers touched his brow and his body was instantly paralyzed. Unable to process what was happening, Nimue's blinding light enveloped him again as his mind tumbled over the edge of itself.

Everything that Tōga was and everything that he would be – his very soul – was suddenly filled with flashing images of things to come.

Memories he had yet to experience. Faces he had yet to know. He saw his life… and his death.

Yet still, the flashes continued as he witnessed the battles that would be fought long after he was nothing more than a towering pile of bones.

Amongst it all… He saw his sons.

In waves, emotions rose up and crashed over the daiyoukai's unused heart. They stole his breath as the visions unfolded further and further into the future, showing him the utter destruction and devastation that would come should his gift not be heeded.

It felt like a lifetime – ten lifetimes – had passed while he watched the flashing images play across his mind… And yet, he knew it was over in an instant.

When the Kami's fingers left his forehead, Tōga fell forward on his knees, hands in the grass, bracing his panting body.

Somewhere in the back of his awareness, he registered that the furs and cushions, even the small fire, were all gone. And from his position on the ground, he could see Nimue's bare feet walking away towards the well.

"Wait…" He whispered on a jagged breath.

Her small feet stopped their forward motion. He looked up at her then and saw that she was looking back at him from over her shoulder.

Tōga tried to find words to make sense of what he had just seen. The horrible gift he had been given. "If I… Can they... Can we be saved?" He found his breath again, composing himself enough to sit back on his heels and look up at her.

She was quiet for a moment as if pondering his question. Finally, she spoke. "As I said before, I can merely set you on the path. What happens next…" She let her words trail off before whispering "I will do what I can to be of aid, as I know there will be… others… who would wish to see our efforts fail."

It was all she was willing to offer him, he knew, and she turned away once more, continuing her slow pace back to the well.

Tōga felt weak and lightheaded. The emotions that had erupted within him during his powerful vision had not subsided. It was as though his chest had been cleaved in two… and yet what she'd originally promised him bubbled back up to the top of his mind then.

"Lady Nimue," he called her out by name for the first time. She paused as she reached the edge of the well, waiting for him to continue.

"You said this gift was two-fold. Yet, beyond these visions, I know not what else you have given me."

Nimue stepped up onto the wooden edge of the well and then up again onto her luminescent column of water. Only then did she turn around, the same blue-green glow of the water now emanating from around her, as well.

Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, and the reverberating tone of her words made Tōga feel weak all over again. He finally comprehended the full power of the being whose presence he was in.

"Great Inu no Taishō, strongest of all daiyoukai, Lord of the West. To you I have granted that which you will need most, to ensure that your steps do not falter on this path that you will walk."

"What...?" He could not finish his words.

She spoke again, softer then, yet still full of power.

"I have granted you the gift of compassion."

And with a final flash of blinding light, she was gone.

Tōga knelt in the grass for a long time. He wondered if it had all been a dream, but the visions in his mind did not fade, and the well too remained where it was in the meadow near him.

Finally, he rose from his knees and walked carefully over to the edge of the well. Peering in, he saw that it was now empty. No trickling noise. No glow. No water at all, in fact. Nothing but a bare patch of dirt remained at the bottom.

Dawn was beginning to lighten the eastern horizon. He scrubbed his hands over his face and went to retrieve So'unga from where it still lay in the grass.

The Kami had been correct. Nothing after this night would ever be the same. The mighty Inu no Taishō allowed himself a rueful smile then. He had accepted this fate and walk this path he would.

Knowing that his mating ceremony was scheduled to begin with the rise of the full moon this coming evening, Tōga lifted himself into the air.

But he did not head west.

Instead, he raced towards the barren wasteland that the weapons-master, Tōtōsai, called home. He needed to commission the creation of two new swords first.

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A/N: I do not own Inuyasha nor any of the characters created by Rumiko Takahashi.

This is my first ever fiction – let alone fan-fiction – and it's going to be long and epic. So strap in, enjoy, and leave me a comment to let me know what you think!

Poly Wanna? Ch.3

A/N: Anonymous Guest - If you’d like to have a chat about these things, say it with your chest, and I’ll say my part. We’ll have an exchange. If you want to use the space set aside for reviews without identification or giving me the opportunity to reply to you personally, then I have to give you the two cents here and everyone has to be subjected to it. It’s an M rating story, so I’ll presume you have your big girl panties on and can take a reply and for anyone else around, in case they have some confusion about my stand on these things, this applies to all.

I just want to remind everybody that this is free labor and if you want somebody to do anything on your timetable, you oughtta go ahead and fund them. You don’t? Cool. Take wtf they’re willing to give you. Or leave it. None of us have to be here. If you’re here because you would love to read a story that I am currently writing, I’d love for you to stick around and will give you the best story that my skills have to offer, free of charge and therefore not obliged to demands. If you’re here to be an executive producer with a production schedule, you made a wrong turn at the intersection of Fuck You and Pay Me. Thanks for your time. I understand if ours together has come to an end. Read what brings you what you want to see and feel, and I’ll write what brings me that WHEN I write it! 

I will abandon this and delete it before turning over authority on what happens here to anybody, or subjecting myself to being treated like a content mule. Juneteenth happened, Sis. You don’t have no slaves here. In the immortal words of my mama, and many-a-Black-mamas, “I’m not one of your lil’ friends.” You better approach me like you got some sense if you trying to ASK ME to do something for my consideration. Peace and many blessings. And now, my update…

@adorkable-blackgirl  @chenoahchantel @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion  @itsyaapollochild@oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille

A Very Henry Morning

Henry generally woke up in just enough time to blend some juice and watch the sunrise over Swellview, the city that he fought everyday to protect. It was a lasting ritual, from whenever he was with Charlotte. She would always get up super early for yoga and meditation, blend them some juice, then, he’d get up and watch the sun rise with her. The first time, she tapped him to wake him and said, “Sorry to wake you, but you’ve gotta see this.” He quickly rushed out of bed, wondering if a Swellview emergency was underway. This was more important! She went to the balcony of their apartment, cute body clad in her yoga gear and just stared at the rising sun, in awe. “It’s like whenever the day starts anew, not only is it another chance to get things a little more right, but she really brings the day in, in style.” Charlotte was smiling as the morning got gradually brighter and staring at the lifebringing star until it became too bright to behold. Henry was looking at her.

He wanted to ask her if she really thought that was worth waking him up this early, knowing that he went to sleep late at night after crime fighting, but just the way she drank it all in and the way it became a little brighter and a little warmer as he drank her in… Instead, he’d said, “Tomorrow, wake me up earlier! We almost missed it,” and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Presently, he had been doing this without her now for 6 years. “She really brings the day in, in style,” he would say out loud to himself, every time. For years, he did it hoping that Charlotte was somewhere out there, doing the same and that for that moment in time, they were connected again. He would imagine her in whatever her current form had been from (cyberstalking her) and he would recall the way that she looked whenever they first did this.

When he was with Jasper, he didn’t share that moment with him. It seemed unfair to Charlotte, even though even being involved with Jasper was another betrayal of sorts, the sunrise was holy. It was set apart. It was a part of he and Char that was too big, too bright for anybody, even her to ever be able to take away from him… and he was too selfish to share it with anybody else, even Jasper.

Now, his internal clock was set to make the juice and go to the terrace. He watched the sunrise and then, and only then was he willing to begin his day. Henry usually finished off his juice before the sun rose fully and put the glass into the wash when he came back in. He grabbed his watering pot and went to water all of his plants that needed it and simply check in with the ones that didn’t. “The sunrise was beautiful today. Forecast is that she might scorch you if I let you outside, but I’ll definitely let her in, so she can kiss you all on your little faces,” he said. He himself kissed flowers. He himself touched them lovingly, talked to them, asked nothing more of them than for them to be healthy and flourish, but sometimes shared his life with them. Henry had a therapist, but he knew whenever he spoke to his therapist that he was speaking to a therapist and he, as a therapist sometimes worried about whether he was handling his own therapy properly, or if his fears got into the way of his needs. Speaking with his plants helped him to figure out when he was being unreasonable, irrational, or counterproductive. Because, the way that he spoke with them was like one would a child that they love with their whole heart, explaining things for them to understand, and being honest and realistic, but protecting them from one’s own problems. Accountability mattered when you spoke with someone you loved. You would honestly do whatever you could to make sure that they don’t see you differently and make the declarations to better yourself to them. He did that with his plants, then shared the genuine portions that he walked away with for therapy. They kept him honest.

He kept a 3 foot garden statue of Blodeuwedd in his home and had various depictions of her flowers form in artwork all over the place, along with other deities, myths, legends associated with flowers. He’d keep statues nearby the plants to “protect them,” in that way that a dad looks underneath the bed and in the closet for monsters. He’d collected Flora, Khloris, Hegemone, among others but, Blodeuwedd was his favorite, for some reason. Unless you counted Dionysus! Now, one thing about that guy was that he was known mostly for his partying, yeah? Wine, fertility, ritual madness… People generally thought orgies and drunkenness… which… make no mistake, Henry was not opposed to and would even call himself a fan, but Dionysus was also, among these other fun things, god of the grape harvest… He was a god of fruitfulness and vegetation! Henry felt like it was unfair to simply see him as a wild hedonist when he was to thank for fertility and cultivation. Henry was pro-fair… And maybe, just maybe identified with the demigod, just a little bit. 

Folk rarely saw the portion of Henry that loved as hard as he did when he experienced the sun saying good morning to all of nature and made his first moves of her arrival an offering to those who could not live without her. Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Henry Hart is no mystic. He doesn’t worship the sun, the plants, or any of the gods and goddess spread around his home for the aesthetics. But, whenever he spent time with these plants, whenever he gave love to his flowers, he believed in something greater than himself, and that was all of the faith that he needed to go out and protect this world everyday.

People were fine, or whatever… but also they were human. They were the threats to nature, to the earth, the environment, and all that the sun shone on everyday. Mister Feelgood never had to fight an animal. It was always people that did the evil that required his life’s work to exist. Many moons ago, he had fought a bear, but since then wondered if other steps might have been taken. Captain Man was not one to really do the sensible thing in a fight scenario. 

As he got older, Henry tried to figure out ways to best avoid a fight. He was fast approaching 30, probably would reach it before he knew it, and he was in great shape - the best shape of his life, but he also knew that this vessel expiration date. He wasn’t Captain Man. He wasn’t indestructible, and some of his peers were already discussing that the warranties on their knees had lapsed. A few years ago, he might have replied, “RIP to them, but I’m different.” But, he was showing signs of power failure, himself. He became sore more easily than he did as Kid Danger, well, since the early days, at least. He was sore all of the time from ages 13-15. He thought it would never stop. That his body would ache for the rest of his life. 

By 16, he was accustomed to his hypermotility, trained to perfection in its usage and skilled beyond his wildest thoughts in fighting technique. He didn’t have a single pain for almost 2 years. Then, Rick Twitler stripped him of that. The soreness increased, as he spent more energy to get used to things, but he adjusted pretty quickly and became just as trained and skilled with his normal Henry body. It worked out for him for years, in and out of that outfit. But, by 25, he started getting a little more tired than usual. 

He worked on his diet and regulated his energy levels better. Within another year, he started feeling like he needed more sleep at night. He began a vitamin regimen and looked into some natural remedies for fatigue and sleep deprivation. Now, even his libido was changing. Pre-Charlotte Henry kissed strangers, made out with hot villains, hooked up with any cute flavor that would give him the time of day. That seemed to be normal teenage behavior, in his mind. Post-Charlotte Henry was a little more reserved for a while. He’d had this life changing relationship, failed at it, and wanted to proceed with either extreme self destruction, or instant carnal gratification. There was no in between. He either was a hermit, or a hoe, for months after they broke up, and only tried to moderate that whenever he began seeing Jasper.

Unfortunately for Jasper, Post-Charlotte Henry was still suffering when he picked up what they had, so… while he was truly trying, he still had the tendency to accelerate from hubby to harlot goals in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for Jasper, Henry had not yet gotten to the point where he could honestly and objectively take a look at his own fuckery and see where he messed up and he certainly wasn’t about tackling sorting through his own heartbreak so that he wouldn’t become one of those hurt people who hurt people. Unfortunately for Henry, Jasper was a keeper, and he was still so heartbroken that he lost the one keeper that he could acknowledge back then, that he lost ANOTHER. How the fuck did you throw away two keepers, you egotistical, emotionally stunted, self-centered, sex crazed… He stopped himself. Speak about your mistakes in the same way that you would speak to a friend about theirs. When you have no friends that you can think of, though… Speak to yourself like you would speak to the lost ones. To Charlotte. To Jasper…

He grabbed his hygiene bag - it was like a tactical control bag, but full of his facial and skin care, dental products, and his cleansing and fragrance supplies. The bag was full of things that he used on a daily basis, and also his weekly and monthly care. Henry took care of himself. His hair, skin, and teeth were always a priority that he was sure rubbed off from Char, too. Hell, they were together the first 4 years after graduation. Those were formative years for him. He used to wash his face and body with the same damn soap, his face with his hands and his body with a loofah that he always kept until it fell apart. He used to brush his teeth within 40 seconds. His hair took the most time of everything he did and all he ever did was wash it with a shampoo and conditioner 2 in 1… and if he ran out, the same damn soap he washed his face and body with!

Charlotte got him into separate cleaners and applicators. Like, whenever he washed his face, he didn’t even do so in the shower, because he had an entire process to make sure his face was well cared for and the shower wash wouldn’t be timed right for it. Usually, he did wipe his face in the shower, because of washing his hair and the water and steam, but he didn’t really wash it until he did his face after the shower. The shower itself, he would  wash his hair, let conditioner set in it and then wash his body, some of his parts had different cloths, ALL of the cloths went into the laundry when he finished washing up. He always moisturized his damp skin, and put on his deodorant before his facial routine, which was kind of extensive, but had him looking better at 27 than he had at 17, meanwhile… not to say that Jasper looked bad, but… He definitely hadn’t aged as well as Henry and Char had and perhaps she’d help him, like she helped Henry. 

Her influence had helped him become the casanova that he dreamed himself to be when he was younger. Though lately, his desire had been limited. He didn’t even get off on the thrill of the chase anymore. He was super focused on this television project, so he thought maybe that might be affecting things. He wondered and worried if throughout recording that he might have to play up his sexual conquests so that his life would look more like it had looked for the past few years, or if the show would simply redefine him, or worse, make him look like he was faking for TV, since he didn’t seem to want to go on any dates at the moment. He always went on dates. People knew that. If he wasn’t on a date, he was at a party and he was coming home with somebody’s date.

He had family game night at his parents’ neighbors’ house a couple of weeks before and whenever they were playing word association games. Someone said Henry, and every member of his family said one of the following list: Slut, sex, and STD. He didn’t want to say who said what but at the same time that he told Piper, “I have never once had an STD. I’m a sex therapist for crying out loud!” his mother was asking his father, “Why would you say SEX?” And his “I’m a sex therapist for crying out loud!” Conveniently replied to both Piper and his mom. But… he was still a little embarrassed. Nobody said gardening or flowers. Nobody said therapist. Nobody said even the word that he had been to them for 27 years, 21 for Piper - son, brother, dude who lived with us? He sighed. That was worse than that time that one of Piper’s friends referred to him, not even as Piper’s promiscuous brother… “What was the point of the adjective?” he’d asked.

He wasn’t embarrassed so much as hurt, a little bit. Because all throughout his adolescence, nobody knew him outside of being a friend to hometown faves. Charlotte Page, the smartest girl in town. Jasper Dunlop, a hero and an activist against unjust laws. Ray Manchester, the longest running most handsome man in Swellview. Piper “the Queen of Harts,” child commercial actress and self made public figure/influencer. And someone actually told him, “Honestly, I don’t think anybody would care how many chicks you banged if you weren’t Piper Hart’s brother. You’re a sex therapist and probably a sex addict and you have a sister who began the Holdin’ Out for a Hero chastity challenge.”

Little did that person know, that challenge got Mister Feelgood as much ass as Henry Hart. But, now, for some reason, he couldn’t even think about doing that. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him until today’s shower. Up until then, he just presumed he was getting old and tired of it. Like, dating was exhausting sometimes and parties seemed louder than they used to. Sex? Still awesome. That could never change, but… whenever he had the chance for any, he would prefer to pass. 

He had a date the night that he asked Jasper to speak with him about the venture. “I wanna ask Charlotte, as well, but I still have no access to her,” Henry said, casually. There wasn’t a hint of sadness in his voice or even in his heart at that moment, because it had been nearly seven years and Charlotte being out of the loop and out of his life was commonplace, now.

“Does it pay, because I can probably get her to entertain the thought, if it does?” Jasper asked.

“Who are you talking about?” Henry heard a voice ask in the close background… Like real close… like.. Either hovering right over Jasper’s shoulder, or sitting in his lap close.

“Shhh. You,” Jasper said. Like… their voices seemed to be coming from the same place.

“Don’t you SHHH me!” She snapped and it was right in Henry’s ear! Like she was holding the phone. Even with her being loud and angry in his ear, this was one of the sweetest sounds Henry had heard in years. Her actual voice. She sounded different, older, but pretty much the same. Her language and tone definitely brought back memories. All he had was old footage of her at different times. This was more than he bargained for whenever he called Jasper’s phone. He didn’t even know that they were in communication with each other and they sounded… so close…

She and Jasper were fussing and sounded like tussling, probably Jasper trying to move the phone away as he softly said, “Henry’s asking me about meeting up with him at the old spot about some business.”

“Oh,” she said, and then her voice faded into the background saying, “Well, yeah, I’d talk to Henry for money, I guess.”

Jasper whispered something to her that Henry couldn’t hear, then it sounded like he kissed her? Then it sounded like she giggled. Henry… felt… so odd in that moment. Jasper returned to the call and said, “Sorry. Charlotte knocked me off of the bed,” he laughed.

“The bed?” Henry repeated, halfway in a daze, halfway like he didn’t understand the word or phrase the bed was what you said about your bed. Was he and Charlotte in this bed together?

“Yeah,” Jasper seemed to read his mind. “You.. haven’t seen any of my posts tagging her?”

“No, she has me blocked on everything.”

“Yeah, but I don’t.”

“She actually went into the programs and made them to where Schwoz can’t hack her, so I’m sure she’s got a way for me to not even be able to see her through someone else’s feed.”

“Oh… well…” Jasper laughed a little bit uncomfortably. He had thought that Henry knew, but he could tell that he was just putting it together, “We’re a couple now!” He cheered. “It’s still new, but… yeah..”

Henry wasn’t quite sure which of the multitude of emotions would wind up taking over for the night, but in that moment while he let a silent tear fall, he cleared his throat, put on his happiest voice and said, “That’s awesome for both of you! You two deserve people like each other. Bring her along to the brownstone for the meeting, then. That’ll be good..” After he hung up, he cancelled his date. He didn’t want to put his mixture of emotions on anyone else tonight. That night, he opened a bottle of wine that he was saving for some special occasion or another… He never really had special occasions, so mostly wine that he saved for special occasions either remained right where they were, or rarely, there were nights like that night, where the occasion was that he found out the love of his life and the person he regretted hurting the most were together… and he didn’t know which one of them was which, even as he contemplated that fact. Both of them were, in their own ways, the love of his life. Charlotte had been his first love. Jasper had been his second chance. He didn’t fully grasp either of their importance until their presences were snatched away. Neither of them are that foolish. They’ll recognize what they have in each other and it will last forever. His lost ones. The ones that got away. They’ll have a great love. A beautiful love. A strong love. And… he might not ever be able to witness it, if he can’t charm Charlotte into putting up with him, but maybe worse, he’ll be able to and have access to her, then he’ll see it take place and mourn from the outside that they had (what they deserved) without him. He drank the entire bottle and fell asleep on the daybed on the terrace. He hadn’t felt sexual since then.

But, after he met up with Charlotte and Jasper, something happened. He grabbed his hygiene bag, like we covered before, he went to prep and recalled how Charlotte helped him step his game up, then he was thinking about when they used to share showers. She liked that. Sharing showers and stories in the steam, washing each other’s backs and each other’s hair, kissing, touching, oiling each other up to nourish the skin… everything else. 

He wondered as he was washing off if she was doing that with Jasper now… Making him hotter, cleaner, flawless, while engaging in conversations that bring them closer together and just being sexy AF in the process. If they were in the shower, kissing, touching… everything else and before he knew it, he definitely was feeling sexual again. His libido had not failed him after all. It was the shower, so he made quick work of handling his business and moving along. However, when he got out of the shower, and prepared to do his face, he saw that he looked refreshed. He looked happy again. He at least looked like he was himself, again. So… Maybe he wouldn’t be on any dates any time soon, but fantasizing about Charlotte and Jasper wasn’t harming anyone and seemed to help him a lot this morning. So, that was what he would do, if he needed that. 

Steve Rogers x Witch!Reader : Love is a Curse (Inspired by Practical Magic) - Chapter 1 - The Meet Cute

(YN) : your name (LN) : last name (HC) : hair colour (EC) : eye colour   

Chapter 2 - https://protectthelesbians.tumblr.com/post/185063448398/steve-rogers-x-witchreader-love-is-a-curse

Flashback

Narrator POV

The old-withered hand of your grandmother held yours tightly as you watched them lower the coffins into

the ground.

The coffins of your father and mother.

They died only a week apart from each other. The mutterings of the funeral attendees surround you, this is so overwhelming for only an 8 year old child. Your aunts had styled your (HL) (HC) hair to make you look a lot older than you did, you wanted to be strong for your family but the longing for your parents would always linger and eat away at you. Family friends approached you left-right and centre, patronising you about how your parents were in heaven with the angels.

This is why children traditionally  don’t attend the funerals.

But your family isn’t necessarily ‘traditional’.

Amongst all the mutters of sorrow and grieving, there was whispers of the curse which haunts the family and has once again taken two lives. The curse was cast centuries ago, by an ancestor of yours by the name Maria (L/N). She was tried for witchcraft by those who saw her gifts to be wicked and sinful. But somehow, she escaped her capture and escaped with only the clothes on her back and her ever-growing child in her belly, a child of a man who seemed enchanted by the young witch at the time. The love-struck enchantress truly  thought her lover, a wealthy lord would take her hand and wed her, making sure that their child would not be out of wedlock and would not forever be called a ‘bastard’.

But witches never get happily ever afters in these stories.

He never came to her, he promised her he would. But he never did.

She waited in a desolate piece of land, waiting. But as her child grew inside her, the sorrow and anger she felt towards her once lover grew and grew. This sorrow grew into a spell before becoming a curse. A curse that would put endanger any man who fell in love with a (L/N) woman. This curse would prevail for generations and generations, though many tried to break the curse, none succeeded.

You were the next generation, you would eventually see the same fate as your mother. For you see, your mother heard the sound of the death-watch beetle, a harbinger of death. She knew that the man she loved was doomed to die. It was easier to tell a child that her mother died of a ‘broken heart’ but secretly you  knew the truth. You saw the pain in your mother’s eyes after your father died and then, only a week later. You were orphaned.

You now lived with your aunts in their home outside of New York, the old house was much more comforting than the home where both of your parents had perished. One night, when the aunts were sleeping in their rooms, you sneaked into the greenhouse which you and the aunts tended to. From the earth grew tall foxglove plants, their deep purple petals lured anyone who did not see the hidden danger to their beauty or the belladonna, the herb which would help anyone drift away with a little bit of it slipped into their drink. You wandered around the greenhouse, collecting herbs and plants from high and low, you filled a small wooden bowl with petals, leaves and berries. You started the incantation that you had written in your small spell book, which had flowers pasted over the cover.

He will hear my call a mile away.

He’ll whistle my favourite song.

You picked the petals from a few of the roses, letting them gently fall into the bowl, the floral smell tickled your nose as you continued the spell.

He will be a gentleman, like a prince charming

He can flip pancakes in the air

He’ll be marvelously kind

And his favourite shape will be a star

You picked a flower which resembles the shape of a star, twiddling it in your fingers before placing it into the bowl gently, admiring the little flowers

And he’ll have two blue eyes, the colour of the sky.’

You picked a pair of bluebells, placing them into the bowl and turned around and tried to head upstairs when you came face to face with your Aunt Francis and Jet, wearing their dressing-gowns and their hair wild and untameable. Aunt Francis rose her dark eyebrow at your small figure at the end of the staircase “What are you doing out of bed?” She clicked her nails against the bannister. You immediately hid the bowl behind your back and your tiny spell-book, they looked at you in disbelief as you stuttered out a “N-Nothing!” The aunts slowly approached you warily “You sure?” Aunt Jet asked, you nodded insistently. The aunts looked at you before in their heads giving you the benefit of the doubt, you had just lost your parents and would be grieving in a way the aunts just may not understand.

The aunts made their way back up the stairs and smiled “Don’t be cursin’ any neighbourhood boys at midnight.” they joked and walked back up to their rooms, you let out a sigh of relief “I won’t!” you held the bowl and spell book close to your chest and scuttled up the stairs to the balcony which was attached to your room.You kept reminding yourself as you muttered “The guy I will dream up doesn’t exist.. And if he doesn’t exist then i’ll never die of a broken heart..” you held the bowl close as the cold, brisk wind hit your face, stepping barefoot onto the creaky balcony. You held out the bowl over the edge of the balcony, you focused on the petals which began to levitate, flying up into the night sky and towards the moon. Soon, the petals were gone and the spell was complete.

You stood alone on the balcony, holding the empty bowl as you out loud repeated “I’ll never die of a broken heart..” you wandered back into your room, the spell started to slowly take form but in a way that your younger self did not intend.

Flash forward 13 years ~~~

With the spell long forgotten, you were currently rustling through your backpack, searching for a pen to use as you were in the middle of signing contracts with Fury concerning joining SHIELD. This was a major deal for you considering the gifts you had inherited from your family.

‘Finally I’ll get to help people..’ you smiled faintly as you told yourself that, you looked over the contract and signed the dotted lines with an elaborate swish and flick of your pen. You clicked your pen as you had signed everything, handing the contract back over to Fury. He nodded and slipped them back into his jacket’s inside pocket. “You ready?” He asked, this made your stomach feel slightly off but hey you were about to meet the world’s mightiest heroes, who wouldn’t be a little nervous. However, there was a lingering feeling, something niggling at you. It was a new sensation that couldn’t be exactly named. You ignored it briefly and just nodded to Fury’s question and spoke “I’m ready.” He opened the glass-doors “Well what are you waiting for, Agent?” You stepped out and turned back to ask Fury for the location of the others but he had already closed his office doors behind him

“Damn..” You muttered to yourself as you stepped into the hallway properly, searching for any other signs of life in this building. Your shoes clicked against the ground as you followed your intuition, stepping blindly down the hall in an attempt to find the others who were a part of your team. With each step, you let your eyes scan the rooms, still finding no signs of life. Letting out a sigh, your feet scuffed against the ground as you walked through the labyrinth like halls of the 'New Avengers Facility', this was starting to annoy you.

"Oh come on where is everyo-!?" You were muttering until you practically body slammed into something as you tightly turned a corner, you had partially winded yourself in the process, leaving you gasping. From the feeling of that collision, it felt as if you had face first slammed into a wall but no, you glanced up to see a pair of large sapphire eyes staring down at you.

It was Captain America.

Only you would have met America's sweetheart in this manner... By body-slamming yourself into him.

You usually would not be such as mess but your mind and body just melted in his presence, you cursed yourself at this wondering why your body had just decided not to work properly. Your mouth just fell open "U-Uhm.. I-I'm so sorry Sir!  I mean Captain America! Sir!" Your words seemed to just fall out of your mouth without your brain actually processing any of what you just said. Steve seemed taken aback by this, taking in your appearance and what you just spluttered out "Uhm Hello Ma'am." giving out his signature smile. You let out a smile "I'm the n-new recruit yeah yeah."

You wanted to kick yourself at how you were talking to him.

Why were you acting so flustered around him?

This whole situation was making your head spin, you came back to your senses when Steve asked if you wanted a companion on your way to the main lounge, you simply nodded and followed after the tall, blonde Avenger. You kept your bag close to you as you wandered through the halls with him, looking out of the large bay-windows. Steve glanced down at you “So, what’s your story ma’am?” You looked up at him “What do you mean?” You quirked an eyebrow at him as he chuckled “I mean. Where are you from? Who are you?” He asked, you giggled gently “Well isn’t that a deep question. Who am I?” You joked before truthfully answering “I’m (Y/N) (L/N) and I’ve lived in Scarsdale, New York since I was 8.” Steve grinned “Well nice to meet you (YN) from Scarsdale.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve, your cheeks were tinted pink “Well its been nice meeting you. Captain.” She expressed as they reached the lounge, many of the avengers were lounging around and waiting for updates on any missions instead of lounging around in their rooms. Natasha glanced over as well as Clint “You must be the new girl Fury mentioned.” She crossed one leg over the other and looked at you closely. As soon as Natasha spoke, the others turned their heads to look at you, inspecting you closely. You simply nodded “Yeah that's me.” the others just nodded and waved over and welcomed you warmly except Tony who seemed to have something on his mind, as if he was waiting to say something. When everyone had introduced themselves, Tony looked at Steve, who was still standing beside you, and then back to you and burst out “I’m Tony and I can already see that Steve’s called dibs.” Steve who had taken a sip of his water bottle had spat it out when Tony told that to (Y/N). You couldn’t help but let out a snort at that, though your cheeks matched Steve’s perfectly.

Steve, with his cheeks blazoned red “I’m only being polite Tony. I’ve not called ‘dibs’.” He put in air-quotes, you snickered at that as you wondered how this ‘old man’ learned to use air-quotes like that in such a sarcastic yet kind way. You nodded “He was being a gentleman, you may want to learn a few things from him, Stark.”

Tony POV

Tony looked shocked at the two of you, you two ganging up on him together made him realise that Steve had somehow, in the five minutes he knew you, had got attached to the new girl. ‘Well Well Well..’ He said in his head and watched the two exchange looks with each other, he thought back to old-Hollywood movies as he watched the two, he couldn’t help it considering this was involved with Steve after all! But he could help but think that this maybe just maybe was Steve and (Y/N) ‘Meet Cute’. The beginning of something to form between them.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the entrance of a tall, dark and mysterious shadow which entered the lounge.

It was Fury.

Fury walked into the middle of the room, everyone watched him even (Y/N). He knew that Fury’s entrance into the lounge meant this would be the formal announcement of (Y/N)’s position in the team. The avengers knew that things were only official when Fury told them himself.

(Y/N) POV

You watched Fury closely as he straightened out his jacket and looked around at the Avengers, he stood amongst them but still he wasn’t exactly one of them. He was still a superior.  Fury let out a cough before speaking “I see you have met the new recruit, welcoming (Y/N) into your ranks. Her gift will surely be needed in any missions which arise.” That is when you felt the eyes land on you once more, like they did when you first entered the lounge. You sighed ‘They probably weren’t expecting that.’ You simply rubbed your arm nervously and nodded, not disagreeing with Fury’s statement.

Steve was the first to pipe up “Wait.. So you have powers?” He questioned, looking at you intently and in some sort of disbelief. You pondered how you were going to phrase this for a moment, every sort of description you used sounded stupid inside your head. You were going to go with the one which sounded the least stupid. Well at least you think its the least stupid. ‘Here I go..’ You bigged yourself up inside your head, looking at all their faces but especially Steve’s. For some reason his eyes on you made you the most nervous as you gulped and prepared to tell your new colleagues of the dark mark on your family name, the reason you were bullied as a child, the reason you were considered for the job here with them. 

It was time.

End of Chapter 1 ~~~

vacaychimchim

series vacation bts (also lowkey a part of bts @ night)

summary it’s a kinda angsty late night beach trip w ya boy(friend) jimin

paring pjm x reader

genre angst, some fluff, idol!jimin, childhood!acquaintances (uh this isn’t super relevant, just some small background, like they knew each other as kids but weren’t super close, but can bond over niche things)

word count almost 1k! (drabble status)

author’s note i actually wrote 2 vers of jimin’s @ night because he’s my everything and deserves more of everything. i liked the plot sm that i decided to make the bullet points into a whole one-shot. :)) also belated BDay to my ult, my sun, my world. vacation bts is a new series, and i will post a series masterlist soon !!

You told him it would be nice to have a break at home in the town where you grew up together. Both of you are usually out of town for work. Him more often due to his constant travelling that comes with being an idol. Despite living so close together, you are usually separated. It hasn’t been a super long relationship, but common pasts stemming from your younger days in your hometown draw you two together. During this break, both of you returned to the place you grew up, mostly to spend time with family. The thing about your town is that it spans many miles, and you happen to live on one end, and he on the other. Because of this unfortunate distance, you’re not super pleased when he asks you to drive all the way to his house in the late, late hours of the night. Hopefully your parents don’t mind seeing your car (actually it’s more like teenager!you’s car because you have now been blessed with enough bonuses and overtimes to have bought your own car, which is sitting in a garage in your current city) missing in the morning. After leaving your house as quietly as possible, you grant your boyfriend’s request and stealthily snatch him from his home. Feeling an itch to get outside, you park your car near his home and then end up walking to the nearby beach.

“F-for Christ’s sake, it’s spring. How is it this cold?” Jimin’s stuttering. The bench you two have settled down on is hard and cold, but Jimin still keeps his arms wrapped around you, a warm cocoon mostly formed by his oversized hoodie that’s covering the two of you like a blanket. You turn your head to face his, and you’re looking in his eyes squinted closed because sand threatens to blow into his eyes, and yours as well.

“It’s the wind. It’s windy.” You’re squinting too now. He opens his eyes a little wider braving the risk of sand-in-eye to seek your lips with his eyes. Jimin tries to bend down for a kiss, but you turn your head away. “No way, Jimin. Your breath stinks, worse than your morning breath.”

“I mean, it’s technically morning.” And you feel a hand at your side, trying to pry open the small purse you brought along. Jimin knows its contents almost as well as you because that purse is with you more often than Jimin is, and the boy can be forgetful and clumsy, and you always have what he needs right in that bag. He finds what he wants and pulls it up holding the gum pack between both of your faces.

“You wake me up at 3:46 am to drive all the way over here to comfort you and now you’re stealing my gum.” You roll your eyes, and take the pack from him to reveal the one stick left inside.

“To be fair, your breath stinks too.” He takes out the stick, and you two split it. By the time, you get the empty pack stuffed back into your purse, he’s got you so close you’re practically in his lap. This time he manages to steal a kiss on your cheek. It’s consensual though. You low key wanted it now that his breath is all half-minty.

And of course now you two are kissing, taking a breathing break every few seconds using the waves crashing onto the beach as a timer. The full moon reflects beautifully over the water. Neither of you notice. You’re too stuck in your head trying to concentrate on Jimin’s plush lips and chaste touches, but you’re also doing double time trying to think about why he called you over. He wouldn’t wake you up at 3:46 am for no reason, though you don’t want to prod right away. Perhaps it’s the stress of visiting home. His family loves him, and he them, but there’s always the lingering sadness knowing the joyful reunion will only be temporary.  Another factor of stress could be the fact he has to hide himself day and night, basically any time he goes out because the popularity BTS has collected.

Howls, and scurrying noises cause you two to peel away from each other.

“How about we take a walk instead?” Jimin suggests, and then he takes your hand as both of you move farther inland, grateful to be getting away from the irritant sand. Walking in silence, hand in hand you hear more scurries and giggles. Though under the streetlights you can tell the sounds are just coming from teenagers sneaking out past curfew. Others occasionally appear around corners, but you two are the stars of the night, silently walking hand in hand, sometimes arm and arm when the wind starts blowing again.

Still, you’re walking in a residential area, a nice one because it’s close to the beach. You don’t feel your safety threatened, but you two still stay quiet, the loudest sound being muffled giggles that escape your mouths. You’re trying to make him open up because you want to support him, and cheer him up. You do so through close hugs and smiles hidden by the night. When you two make it back to your car parked almost in front of his house, close enough to the beach though, he’s shedding a few tears admitting his premature grief for leaving his family and you soon.

“This sucks.” You sigh, and then praise him for his admittance knowing that will also help him cheer up. Jimin lets out more words bleeding out of his emotional state, and you try to respond properly. Eventually, you move him inside the car. You at the driver’s seat, him at shotgun. The car’s off, but still provides more warmth and shelter than his sweatshirt did outside. And it’s nearly 4:30 am your smartphone says, but there’s no time to sleep when you’re so alive in this tragic conversation.

my masterlist

☆Forbiden Fantasy☆

Part 4

Namjoon x Reader

WereWolf x CEO'sDaughter

Genre: Angst->Smut->Fluff

Word Count: Alot of Words

Warning: there is angst present in this story so prepare your heartue. The smut in this is kinda extreme rated 21+ and the fluff part is well.... fluff.. lol im sorry i'm not good with the warnings

A/N: this part turned out to be longer than expected so i had to make it in to part 4 and 5.. since i'm using my phone to post, i cant insert any links.. im so sorry but the internet line here is shit..but make sure you read both... i hope you enjoy it anyways! Thank you for continuesly following my series!! I love you guys! 💕💜💞 😊

----☆----☆----☆----☆----

The smell of wet earth hits my nose,the feeling of fingers scratching my head in a relaxing motion and the sound of a steady heart beat clear in my ear as i shift slightly to lift my head up.

"Good morning" he speaks in his raspy morning voice and pecks me on the nose.

"Mmmm good morning~" i reply back with a light grunt.

"Still tired baby?"

"Nooooo~ just feels nice being cuddled up in your arms~~"

"Well we have to get up and leave now, i need to take you to your father" he giggles slightly.

"Okaayyy~ but can we please stay like this for a liiitttllee longerrr~~" i mumble into his chest and wrigle up closer, burrying my face into his neck.

"No baby we can't, not now at least.. once all this is over we can cuddle all you want okay? Right now we are in a war with the HellVamps remember?" He asks, moving my messed up hair out of my face.

"Ouh yea...mmmmm" i growl and sit up straddling him as i strecth myself, completly forgeting that i was still naked and so was he.I notice him bite his lip when i open one eye while stretching.

"What?"

"You trying to turn me on right now baby?, cause it's totally working" he speaks in a low seductive voice causing me to look down at my body finally realising.

I scramble off of him and grab his shirt of the ground and cover myself up.

"S-stop staring at me~" i say softly, filled with embarasement, hugging my body tight and my back turned to him.

"Haha don't worry baby, i was only joking.. we currently don't have time for that again, last night was satisfying enough.. well for now at least" his deep voice in my ear as he kisses my shoulder and goes to pick up his pants from off the ground where he had discarded them the night before.

He gets half dresses and reaches his hand out gesturing for me to give him back his shirt. I pick my own clothes of the ground before taking his off and handing it to him. We both get dressed and he leads me through the forest and out finally reaching headquarters aka my home. I get inside my father's office to see my dad seated at his desk, head rested on the table, and his face seemed as though he wasn't able to sleep at all till a few moments ago. I walked slowly towards his desk and shook him slightly to wake him.

"Dad.. dad wake up.."

"Huh y/n?" He lifted his head up and rubed his eyes.

"Y/N!! Oh thank god you're safe!" He jumped up from his chair and hugged me tight.

"I thought i lost you too.." he started wheeping on my shoulder, holding me close.

"H-hey dad... don't worry.. i'm safe, i'm here now okay?" I said rubbing his back to reassure him, trying to hold back my tears as i felt his on my shoulder.

"I'll never let those discusting monsters take you again okay?" He said gripping onto my shoulders thightly as he pulled away from thw hug to look at me straight in the eyes.

I flashed a smile at him and we both sat down.

"Are you hungry? Do want anything? I can get you something?" My father blurts out.

"No no dad, im fine... its just..."

"What it is y/n?" My father asks a little concern.

"The Count HellVamp....he told me everything.. about me, who i am...what i am" i spoke softly, my gaze fixed on my father's expression as it changes slightly.

"S-so you know... everything?"

"Yes..."

"Then you also know why me and mother raised you that way... keeping your identity a secret from you"

"Yes i know dad, don't worry.. in not upset... i just wished you told me more about mum instead of changing thw topic everytime i ask about her.."

"Haha... your mother.. she was really something else.." he starts as a smile errupts on his face.

He walks towards the huge potrait of her that he had hung in his office. Stopping right infront of it and stares up at her picture with a sad yet sweet smile on his face as his mind flashes back to the times when they were together.

"She was my everything, my world. I loved her so much.. i still do.." he chuckles sadly.

"And i couldn't do anything to save her... i tried..but..." tears start forming at the corners of his eyes again and i walk over to him and place my hand on his shoulder.

"But i won't let that happen to you. I'll protect you.. i promised your mother i will.." he smiles at me.

I simply return his smile with mine and he looks over my shoulder to see Namjoon who was standing quietly by my father's desk, respecting our father daughter moment.

"Namjoon how long till the Blood Moon?" He asks him with a serious tone.

"6 days sir"

"Then we don't have much time.. we have to gather all our Wolves and attack the nest within 6 days or less", my fathers orders as he walks towards Namjoon.

"Yes sir", Namjoon answers.

"Dad let me come along.. i want to help.. eventhough i wasn't in that place for too long i still now somethings about it.. let me come!" I requested with a glint of hope in my voice.

"Y/N are you crazy? We won't let you back in there, it's too dangerous!-"

"Then train me! I mean i am a half WereWolf which means i do posses some WereWolf traits if not all right?? Train me! I'm a fast learner! Pleaseee let me come along!" I cut Namjoon off and added on suggestions to get them to let me help them on this war of freedom.

Namjoon and my father looked at each other for a  moment before my father looked back at me. He places a stray strand of hair behind my ear and looks at me with loving eyes and smiles slightly at me.

"Just like your mother... brave amd strong.." he finishes and turn towards Namjoon.

"I'm giving you full responsibility to train her. We don't have much time so give her all the nessesary training, self defense and all that. You know what to do. Proceed as ordered".

"Yes sir" Namjoon answers trying to contain a smile on his face when my father asks him to train me.

I stood behind my father and secretly gave Namjoon a cute yet sexy wink and all he could do was smile and lower his head.

"Then we start training right away. Y/N, downstairs training hall, 5 minutes." He orders sternly and walks out of the room.

I giggle excitedly at my father and run out to get in to proper training gear and walk down to the training hall in the basement. I walk into the training hall to find a sweaty, sexy hot Namjoon doing sit ups. When he notices me walk in he smirks at me and sits up catching his breath slightly, catching his breath.

"Ready for training Y/N?"

"Ready if you are Joonie~" i say with a smile.

He gets up and walks towards me and stop right infront of me, scanning by body from top to bottom, my body clothed in a pair of black workout tights, black tank top and black knuckle protection gloves.

"Lesson one, defence. Punch me."

"Well isn't that fun" i joke with a smirk and swing my left arm to punch his face, only to be blocked and put in a reverse arm hold, my back against his chest as he holds my arm in a reverse lock.

"Be quick, and look directly in your opponents eyes to read their next move." He growls in my ear and lets me go.

I shake my arm slightly from the tight hold and put my hands back up to continue. The lesson goes on with stamina training, punching and kicking lessons and more defense lessons till i was all worked out.

"Well done baby, you did extremely well for your fisrt training. At this rate, you could be a full trained HellVamp hunter in 2 days", he comments as he wipes his swest of his forehead, eyeing my sweaty figure across the room with a smirk.

"Well i have an amazing trainer so i'm not suprised" i reply back with a smirk.

He turns away shaking his head with a chuckle as an idea brews in my head. I slowly move in to position from where im standing to run towards him in order to tackle him to the ground into a hold. I set my gaze as Namjoon is still unaware with what i was about to do. I run towards him with a loud war cry only to be tackled, flipped on my back and pinned down on the floor by him.

"Ouch damnit. I almost had you." I said looking up at him, my hands pin down beside my head by his large hands.

"Haha well i'm not the head hunter here without a reason you know, you need to do a better job than that if you want me to be in the position you're in right now" he answers with pride, a dirty smirk slightly present as he looks down at my body pinned down beneath him.

"Soooo~ you planning to let me go or?~" i ask teasingly at him.

"Mmm i don't know.. i kind of really like this veiw of you trapped in my hold under me like this" he speaks softly and seductively, adding a smirk and a wink.

My body immediately starts to burn with desire at his words, squirming slightly to get free from his strong grasp.

"I-i thought you asked to wait after all this is over?"

"Maybe i'm a little.... impatient" he whispers the last word in my ear sending shivers down my back.

"W-what are you going to do?" I asks slightly intrigued.

"I'm... going... to... TICKLE YOU!!" he shouts like a kid and begins tickling me.

"Ahahahahhaa Joonieeee!! Hahahaha Joonie ahahh!!" I laughed and squirmed around trying to get away from him only to be pulled back.

"Nu-uh you're not going anywhere!!" He plays and continues to tickle me till i'm almost at the verge of crying of laughing so much.

He then rolls down laying beside me as we both laugh at each other. He turn to me with that gorgeous dimpled smile of his and winks cutely.

"I love you" he says softly

"I know you do, you'd be crazy if you didn't" i teasing joked to which i earned a loud laughed.

We both sat there laughing with each other for a little while after before getting back up to continue my training. Throught out the three day training i managed to harness my WereWolf strength and speed, becoming and equally strong hunter just like Namjoon. The only thing i couldn't do was morf into a WereWolf like him since i'm just a half. Still being strong and ready as ever, i gathered along side Namjoon and the other WereWolf hunters for the planed meeting that night to destroy all the HellVapms so that the city could be at peace at last. The meeting was dispersed with the final words from my father.

"Tonight, our city shall be free! Tonight we destroy those monsters!!" My father exclaimed, followed by cheers and battle cries from everyone.

Walking into my fathers office to look at my mother and gain some strength and motivation, my father walks in. He smiles at me before speaking.

"So how long have you and Namjoon been together?" I almost chocked at his question.

"W-what.. h-how?.."

"Haha don't be afraid Y/N, i noticed how you two were behaving around each other when you were training.."

"S-so... you're not.. mad?"

"Why would i be? I mean to be honest with you..  WereWolves are irresistable", he whispers and we both laugh at his statement.

"Don't worry my daughter, i will see to it that you two are together after all this is over", he says in a reassuring voice, kissing my forehead and smiles sweetly at me.

"Sir, we're ready" Namjoon states standing in the door frame.

----☆----☆----☆----☆----

To be continued

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6

March Favorites

First post right here!

Its been 3 months since 2021 has started and so far all I’ve done is sleep, eat, watch, game, attend class repeat (I mean of course that’s the general idea). There are things that I have been doing this month unique from last months.. And this post is the list as to what I have been into lately. Specifically things that keep me sane despite being house arrest! (Not literally, just taking measures since the pandemic is still on going and please think 10x before going outside because health is more important)

Keep on reading to know more!

Since I just did a little intro, here are the things that I consider my ‘March Favorites’ and I may continue to do this monthly (if time and requirements permit) 

Also a warning, this is a long entry so brace yourself :>

p.s. pics are not mine except for the hutao picture (the animated ones) credits to the lovely owners!

The Return of the Superman: Wilbengers and Gunnavely

I know that a lot of people have been obsessed with this series already, maybe years before because I did watch some, like little clips and short videos from the one hour long episode but boy I just fell in love with these kids when I was able to watch Wilbengers trying to be convinced to speak English especially Bentley since he doesn’t know how to or in the process of learning. They are so cute and entertaining. I don’t really have a thing for kids tbh, I hate kids and I am actually hesitant on whether I should have children of my own but William and Bentley are so adorable and smart! As for Gunhoo and Naeun, I have been watching them for a long time now, I do watch the previews of their episodes and I just adore how Gunhoo is now speaking little by little and how Jinwoo is a little cutie. These kids are just so adorable that I can’t stop watching now that KBS did actually upload their one hour long episodes. 

Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares

Another show that I have been hooked up all day and night! I may not be obsessed with watching anime or series or kdramas as of the moment but Kitchen Nightmares is just pure entertainment!

The two pictures... these are actually not my favorite but I guess one of the unique out of all the episodes, the first one is a very entertaining and infuriating one to watch since I bet you know why xD. They became famous in the internet because of their idk personality I guess. They did standout because of their entertaining factor, and Amy please this is not a hate post just stating facts lady. The second one is probably one of my favorites, it’s so soothing and relaxing to watch, it is realistic and inspiring. I really do hope that Momma Cherri is living the dream because of her humility and the ability to take criticism and most importantly, the willingness to learn and to adapt. These two episodes are by far the most contrasting out of all the episodes and they are special in a negative and positive way respectively. I may continue to watch KN because it does not only entertain me but it reminds me of the dream that I always wanted to chase despite of choosing a program not related to it. 

Genshin Impact: Moment of Bloom

I really saved the best for Last! This will be really long tho... So this is about Genshin Impact, the game that I didn’t knew that will change my life and change my routine (really, it became a daily routine to check this game out). I do hope that I still control myself because of this game but anyway, I started playing this game almost 6 months ago (I believe its October, 2020) and ever since I have been playing non stop. So this post is not really about how I became a GI player or what is the story as to why I play it rn but it is focused more on the character above, Hu Tao. During 1.2, leakers did release information about her and even if that time I just got Zhong li (it was during Albedo’s banner when I found out that she is one of the characters that will be released in 1.3) and I got hyped and I said I am going to pull of this girl (even if I really like husbandos but still these girls /waifus if you may/ are cute and their playstyle are interesting so why not get them). So I did give myself a goal that I would be saving for her, (this is during 1.2 so we don’t really have a clear idea as to what comes in the future), then Ganyu’s banner came up and I get to test her and I love her playstyle I was like she would be a good support to any character, mostly for Elemental Reactions so I did pull for Ganyu and got her on the 81st pull. Usually I get characters one banner apart so it was Zhongli then Albedo’s banner passed (then I didn’t get him cuz I didn’t pull for the guy) then Ganyu. So my dilemma was what if after Xiao (because it was confirmed that Xiao was coming on 1.3), then it’s Hu Tao then I’ll have no primos left and her banner will past and I don’t have her. One more thing, the Promotional Banner has its rules, there is 50/50 where you have to beat it to get the Promotional Character, and if you don’t then you’ll get an off banner 5 star which are not promotional and can appear to the permanent banner anytime. So when 1.3 was announced, there is no signs of Hu Tao, however, the banner duration of the two announced banner are only 2 weeks, and they did predicted that there will be a 3rd banner which appears to be correct. There are some reason as to why there were 3 banners in this update, maybe because Mihoyo avoided Hu Tao during the whole month of February because of the Taboo or whatever Cultural Reason as to why they cannot talk about death or words related to that. So after February, which is March, that is when they did release Hu tao and boy I was excited but nervous and scared because what if she won’t come home and things like that lingered in my head. Thoughts like what if I get an off banner or I won’t be able to reach the pity etc.. So I had doubts on getting her. During the release day, my friends went to my world so that they can support me and then we went to Venti’s statue and offered Zhong Li (yes, I do believe in that ritual because it sometimes work) and then I do have 12 Intertwined fates and 3k Primogems. I did sat on the statue and do a single wish and blue appeared and I was really nervous that time because I don’t know what to expect then I pulled once more and finally the gold glow appeared, my hear was racing because an off banner might appear and I closed my eyes expecting an off banner 5 star... then the picture above appeared and I was shaking and the adrenaline is so high and I told my friends I GOT HER AHHH and we are all panicking and happy and excited. This is probably one of the luckiest moments of my life (I do hope in real life to I am lucky...) and so the current main got backseated and up until this day I am using Hu tao as my main DPS. She is worth it and even if her weapon is not the signature one (the one made for her), she still does big damage and I am just amazed as to how lucky I am... One of the most memorable moments after that event last December where I pulled for Zhongli but got jean instead then tried to pull for more because I have spare primos and finally another gold glow appeared and I was shaking at that time as well... Good times. I do hope that in the future, I will still be as lucky as this. (Also I am F2PBTW, I did plan on buying some affordable stuff like the Welkin Moon but I just trusted my fate and whatever comes, I should accept is with my whole heart)

Well... That was long, if you have made this far Congratulations! You just witness a piece of my boring life xD

March Playlist~

1. 𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 - 𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘕𝘈 𝘖𝘌𝘊 2. 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘺 - 𝘚𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘌𝘕 3. 𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘵 - 𝘎𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 4. 𝘕𝘦𝘸𝘵𝘰𝘯 - 𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘚𝘛𝘈 𝘟 5. 𝘕𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 1 - 𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘕𝘈

Thats All! Stay Safe and see you on the next post~

- ella

Boku no Hero Academia Fiction Recommendation Master Post

I have decided my new favorite anime and its fandom deserves some appreciation. Every work I recommend are - in my personal opinion - beautiful and I want everyone to read them. If you see your work up here that’s cause I loved it to the moon and back! I welcome suggestions too!  

♥ - ultimate fav

★ - they do the do

(★) - implied sexual activities

ロ - unfinished

■ - finished

✿ - multi chapters

TodoDeku (Todoroki x Midoriya)

count your blessings, not your flaws by PitViperOfDoom  ♥ ■  

Sumary:  Midoriya Izuku has never been asked out, confessed to, or flirted with, except as a joke.

drink my thoughts by celestialfics  ■

Summary:  [02:13 AM] todoroki: Are you awake?

Gradations by Haurvatat  ★■ ✿

Summary:  U.A.'s Heroics Division's Class A was graduating. Moving on. Never coming back. And Izuku is going to be left behind, solidly trapped in a prison of his own making. There might be a few things that could make it more bearable, though.

it could be worse by bigspoonnoya  ♥ ■

Summary:  Todoroki is bad at presents, and worse at confessions.

It must be the heat by Sleeves  ■

Summary:  I wrote some silly fluff for Izuku's birthday. Happy bday, little hero egg!

Nerves of Ice by furihatachlookie  ♥ ■

Summary: Todoroki felt his own breath drop in temperature as the nerves settled in, steam rising with each steady exhale. He continued to stare, as if expecting the same to happen to Midoriya when he caught a whiff of cool mint as the boy spoke, face inches from his. In which Midoriya has a better grasp on the changes happening in Todoroki than Todoroki himself.

one string, fit for a bow by furihatachlookie  ♥ ■

Summary: There was no magical moment that played a part in Midoriya's realization that he liked Todoroki. The thin red string that greeted him every time he looked down at his hand was an obvious factor, yes, but it wasn't love at first sight either. It sorta just... happened over time.

project cupid by amoxicillings  ロ ✿

Summary:  In which Todoroki Shouto is trying to ask Midoriya out and the whole class is in on it.

Riddles in the Heart by PitViperOfDoom  ♥ ■ ✿

Summary: The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye. Of course, there's only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.

Summer Starts by PitViperOfDoom  ■ ✿

Summary:  It's been judged safe to send the students of UA home to their families for the first three weeks of summer, much to the relief of everyone whose name isn't Todoroki Shouto. Luckily, Midoriya has a solution for him, and Midoriya Inko has a lot of love to give.

Note: Part 6 of Send Endeavor to the Shadow Realm series. First part: Spring Cleaning

waterlogged (red blue, green) by lein  ■

Summary: Izuku has never been one to curse but the only way to describe himself as his mother hugs him goodbye that morning, is royally fucked.He’s really, truly glad no one in their class has a mind-reading quirk because from the minute his feet touched warm sand, his mind has been screaming in tune to the same famous classical overtures Tenya listens to when they study together. Occasionally, the music pauses just long enough for his brain to point out observations about Shouto that make Izuku want to stick his head under the waves and just breathe in.

prince & prince by Authorless  ♥ ★ ロ ✿

Summary:  Note to self: don't accidentally fall in love with a prince who's in an arranged marriage keeping your kingdoms from declaring war against each other. Especially when you're spying on him as his manservant.

Note: Part 1 of the kings & queens of promise series.

saltwater room by reapers  ■ ✿

Summary: It starts —like all ideas that inevitably lead to one’s downfall do— with something akin to this: Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya Izuku and a five-story house by the beach, completely devoid of any entry-fee --save for the one where Todoroki has to pretend to be Deku’s boyfriend. All-in-all though, not an awful price to pay for the vacation of their dreams, right? Right?

how would you feel by celestialfics  ♥ ■ ✿

Summary:  It’s Wednesday morning when Izuku’s mother texts him to remind him about his cousin’s wedding coming up the following weekend, and it’s Wednesday evening, when Izuku’s back in his room after classes and has time to call her, that she tells him she can’t go to the wedding with him.

One of “Those” by Ultimatum  ■

Summary: Todoroki and Midoriya are pro heroes. They're also dating.These two aspects clash when they're outed to the entire world as Japan's first officially gay heroes.

a burger and extra salty fries by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)  ■ 

Summary: In his third year at UA, Todoroki Shouto works in a burger place, catches on fire and falls in love. Only two of those things are on purpose. Or...Todoroki Shouto's exciting adventures in customer service.

Note: First part of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series! The next TodoDeku part of the series: get in loser, we’re going heroing

How to Be a Hero by Hummus King  ♥ ロ ✿

Summary:  Shouto Todoroki is a cold Pro Hero who never uses his fire side. He refuses to be like his father, Endeavor, but every day it seems like he's becoming more like him. Shouto meets up with Izuku Midoriya, a quirkless Pro Hero counselor and discovers that his power is his own. Also... he might be falling in love with his counselor. // AU where Deku never received One for All and became a quirk counselor instead!

that is just the way by celestialfics  ■

Summary: Shouto has his first sleepover.

the end of the world as you know it (and what comes after) by jambell  ■

Summary:  In the wake of All Might’s death, Izuku grieves. (Post-Graduation/Future Fic)

demolition lovers: beginnings by TMOTC  ロ ✿

Summary: It was a mistake, Shouto thinks, to fall in love with a hero. (Or the one where Todoroki is a Quirkless school nurse and Hero Deku’s longsuffering boyfriend.)

Note: Part 1 of the demolition lovers series.

KiriBaku (Kirishima x Bakugou) 

2am Knows All Secrets by Sarahhaley  ♥ (★) ロ ✿

Summary: … It wasn’t that he was annoyed. Okay, maybe he was a little annoyed, but that was just the lack of sleep talking. Because a certain explosive punk thought it was a good idea to test the flammability of his sheets at 2 in the morning. Every single morning. (In which Bakugou's quirk wakes Kirishima up, and Kirishima gets way too invested in his bro's well-being.)

a heart swelled to bursting by eggstasy  ★ ■ ✿

Summary:  The summer training camp of Bakugou's second year at UA descends upon him with all the untamed fury of- well, himself, honestly.

Communicate With Your Body by xX_KUUHAKU_Xx  ♥ ★ ロ ✿

Summary: "Hey! Wake up you piece of shit! Are you alive?!" The man winces and scrunches his face in pain but Bakugou continued to hold him in place. Good, he's alive- Piercing red eyes flutter open and gaze lazily straight at Bakugou's face and Bakugou feels his heart skip a beat. Oh, Fuck- AKA merman! Kirishima au

downhill by eggstasy  ■

Summary: Bakugou sleeping in the common areas like it’s no big deal seems to give everyone else permission to be just as bizarre, and little by little Kirishima starts learning things about his classmates he never knew.  

Love, Buried in the Ice by Tukson  ロ ✿

Summary:  Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eijirou are paired together for a winter survival assignment! It's inevitable that the two clash, but neither of them could have predicted an accident at the height of their tension. Trapped in the wilderness at the mercy of the environment, how will the two cope with finding help and mending what was broken?

parted, and never parted by Authorless  ■

Summary:  Before going into battle, it’s only proper to make an offering to the god of war. But Kirishima’s run out of things to give. AKA God of War! Bakugou au

yes, you say you’d like to by Authorless  ♥ (★) ■

Summary: “You’re a popsicle biter, you fucking animal,” Bakugou says. “You’re not?” Kirishima says around a mouthful of ice cream. “No,” Bakugou says. “I prefer my teeth unfrozen, thanks.” He wraps his mouth around the popsicle and Kirishima realizes his mistake very, very quickly.

don’t count on me to let you know when by newamsterdam  ★■

Summary:  Kirishima has always made things easy for Bakugou. But that doesn't mean that Bakugou's gotten any better at these things, even after all of these years.

come @ me bro by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)  ■

Summary: Bakugou works at a convenience store, flirts like a loser, blows up nineteen aprons, gets a hashtag trending for all the wrong reasons and maybe manages to make a friend. Or...being Bakugou Katsuki is suffering.

Note: Part two of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series

it’s pouring out here by shizuumi151  ■

Summary: With phone, money, and keys in his pocket, Kirishima wandered around the city for an age. With his legs on auto-pilot his mind wandered too. To the new movie that peppered the streets in posters and trailers, a new move he wanted to practise for another basketball play, wondering about how the current arcs for his favourite manga would turn out in the next issue of Jump. And, of course, he thought about how many of those things he could see and do with Bakugou.

The Beauty of a Beast by starofjems   ロ ✿

Summary: Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse... When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast. Or the beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

Congratulations, TARYN! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE MOON with the faceclaim of FRIDA GUSTAVSSON. In spite of a few understandable bumps in the road, you really blew me away with Maiden! The Moon is a very understated character, to me, in that their subtleties and smaller notes are what really make them interesting. You took them in a direction I wasn’t expecting, but I enjoyed the ride nevertheless -- I also enjoyed the ups-and-downs of the plots quite a lot, and how you tied everything together with a nice little bow in regards to her interest in botany and the past which she is still trying to uncover. Altogether, this was a delight to read, and I can’t wait for Maiden to grace the dash!

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OOC NAME: Taryn PRONOUNS: She/her AGE: 21+ TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST & currently I’m stuck at home and rarely allowed to leave the house because I’m immunocompromised… bleh. In a week or so I’ll be considered okay to rejoin people, and then I’ll be on the job hunt - which I only mention because it may change my activity ability once that’s happening! I also do help out behind the scenes at another roleplay, so some creative juice goes there. Overall, ideally I’m at least online everyday to chat, plot, or post a reply. Some days the ole mental health needs me to stay off screens for a bit or just says You Aren’t Writing Today, but I’d say it’s been a while since I’ve gone more than 3 days without posting on an rp account, so whatever that translates to -- 7/10, maybe? ANYTHING ELSE?: Other than what I already messaged you about (and thank you again for your understanding!!), I just want to say I interpreted things a little differently than the recent skeleton edit/your anon answers imply -- I thought her magic manifested at thirteen with the instance of Moon freezing her mother’s arm, meaning her mother knew from that early age that Moon had powers, and only told Moon to leave when the rumours spread. I think that switches up the dynamic you might have imagined, but hopefully you still like it! I was also a little confused as to whether or not the Moon’s mother ever instructed her in the work she does -- because there is the “All she ever does in return is chuckle and pat you on the head, but you figure that she’ll tell you one day.” line, but it seems that’s when she’s younger, and I figured if she’s working as a botanist at the castle she must have been lessoned in the stuff to some degree. So there is mention of her mother teaching her botany in her history, but it’s not an ~important detail at all and could literally just straight up be removed from the bio without issue. Can you tell I’m anxious and need to over-clarify everything? Lmao. Anyway, thanks again Julie!! IN CHARACTER SKELETON: The Moon NAME: Maiden Mallorian / “Triss” I don’t largely go into naming conventions but I think there’s some worth in discussing it here! The use of Maiden as a given name is meant to embody an Otherness by using a commonly-used noun in place of a traditional name (... though I guess all names are nouns too… anyway), as well as a mystique. EG: If every young, unmarried woman is a maiden, then who is the girl we call Maiden? Is she all of those young women, or none of them - is she a person, or a concept? Can a woman even have an identity with a moniker shared by so many -- a similar question to can a girl have a sense of self if she is raised in isolation, if her teachers are not people but the meadows, the crows and the heaths and the moors? There’s also certainly the archetype of The Maiden in literature, particularly in relation to the trio of Maiden / Mother / Crone. Beyond her mother embracing this triumvirate of feminine archetypes and deliberately naming her after as much, there’s just that very literal interpretation - I’ve named her after the maiden archetype, pure and simple. Her mother is, clearly, the mother, and I see the High Priestess rounding out that divine feminine trio as the crone -- the most aged of all, the closest to death, and the bearer of the most knowledge. Furthermore you have the scrubbing of this name and the replacement of it with Triss -- a simple, short nickname that bares no importance or meaning, and instead effectively erases the things that made her unique. Maiden tends to forget or, at least, forgo introducing herself with the alias both because she dislikes and genuinely forgets to use it -- so you may have a smattering of people who know her in-character as Triss, but to those that she knows better and/or takes a liking to immediately, they’ll know her as Maiden. Which, if I’m continuing to be a little extra with the name analysis, is also a good representation of her duality/contradiction -- two names, two selves, two parts to the moon (glowing at night; invisible by day-hours), the illusion/deception part of the moon tarot, and all that jazz.   FACECLAIM: (1) Frida Gustavsson (2) Ashley Moore AGE: Twenty-five DETAILS: So, full disclosure, I’ve said it a dozen times to a dozen different people but I had the hardest time deciding on a character -- I was literally stuck between five or six skeletons until like 48 hours before the submit closed. They were as varied as The Moon to Temperance to even the dark horse of The Hermit plowing its way through my heart, and what attracted me to that array of characters on the whole was just the ability to see a story in them. I could find in each of them a distinct past and complex future, but the Moon ended up pulling ahead as I started to collect inspiration and jot down notes -- it was Maiden’s story that wouldn’t leave me alone. And I will go into an attempt to tell you why below, but realistically that’s almost the best reason I could give you -- because they won’t unstick from your shoulder or let you reach for someone else. They demand to be spoken for. Truthfully, I love tales of daughters and their mothers. I love the narrative passed between them, how one can be an extension of the other -- I love a retelling of an immaculate conception where the magic is found in the mother, not an absent-holy father (even if said immaculate conception is just myth, because who says a story isn’t as important as a truth). I love women and their stories, and how no girl is ever so far from being a witch -- basically, I adore that Girl Magic, so it was her background that appealed to me first. Because while we’re talking about Girl Magic, there’s such a potential for that with The Moon. I saw her at the crux of an eccentric mage and a clumsy apprentice, possibly hovering in the middle because she has no instructor, only herself -- so she is forced to experiment and create and learn all at once. I also love archetypes of wild women, though that doesn’t have to mean the ones that run with wolves -- sometimes it means the ones who sleep next to them. I’m very drawn to stories of the Others, the ones a half-step from society, who hold something unusual and distinctly enchanted about them -- and Maiden, whose magic has manifested in a way that may prove unique to all humanity, certainly has that Otherness going for her. Women in real life (and in fiction) are so often grouped into homogenous categories or expectations that being able to write one who not only defies societal conventions, but exists outside them entirely, and with contradictions inside her -- phew. That’s some shit I can fall in love with. I do find it difficult to dissect and lay out who Maiden is so plainly -- to me, that’s like writing an analysis on a novel I haven’t finished yet. I can’t separate her bones for you yet on the table because I’m still unrolling them from the skin myself, measuring out the angles of her joints, sizing up her feet, etc. But I like that I know this muse is going to unravel for me with time, despite how much I already have done -- that’s actually a very important note to me in a character, feeling that there is still progress to be made as both myself and the muse go through the roleplay together. Though, that being said, I also don’t remember the last time I’ve been able to create such a long-term character arc from the get-go -- which is super exciting, tbh, and yet another reason I got drawn into the Moon’s lunar pull over the others. Got me out here feeling like I could write a novel 😭 BACKGROUND: let us begin, as all stories do - and as they must - at the beginning. to be fair and honest, as stories never are, we must admit that this is not quite the true beginning. that beginning, in this case and all others, would mean the black-star start of the world (or in the very least, if we are to cheat just slightly, the origins of magic - but i digress), when everything came from nothing and nothing meant everything. but for both your time and mine, we will skip past the first red, slashed dawn of the world, and even beyond the fantastic sky-breaking initiation that brought magic, though they did not come all that far apart, as you may think. i also feel that it is my duty to you, dear reader, to state my bias. that is all. i state it. i type it in bold letters, black like stones from the bottom of a cold ocean and just as cold. it has been relayed, and i have done what is necessary. i have no obligation to further explain to you what it may be, or to who i am favored or embittered - indeed, i staunchly oppose such action, as you yourself must have an active part in this tale, a responsibility to seek out what is truth and what is exaggeration - and there is no point in asking. but don’t read too much into this. all this facetious, drawn-out text is only a disclosure. this is a story, real as your whale-blubber bones, and i am not lying about any of it. all i mean to say is this: it is a sign both of humanity and of narration that we should always, must always, pick a side. it is simply necessary, just as it is necessary to remember this when one is the listener. never believe a narrator who does not disclose themselves upon the opening of a story, and never trust one that calls themselves impartial. they are lying. it is only natural to crave loveliness, or wickedness, or both, and it can only be expected that a tongue slants and bends to accommodate such reactions of the heart. there is no story that is all truth. there is only love and the words we create to try and express it; never quite accurate, never quite enough, like a burr soaked in honey and left on your tongue. stinging and sweet, but no matter how you try, you cannot spit it out. (remember, look closely, but not too hard). this is our story. i leave it in your mouth. there are three things in succession: a bargain, a girl, and magic. the order of these both matters and does not. it does not matter because all these things are one and the same in the end. it does matter for reasons that will become apparent shortly. there is, as many tales go, an unhappy woman (why it is never a man that is so morose and dissatisfied with life in these stories, we shall leave for the scholars to explain). she lives in a stretch of land where few who are not seeking her come, and spends her days shucking the cures and harms out of flowers and counting the wolves that pass by her road. the first bargain, by all accounts, happens some time ago, before we begin the meat of our tale: the woman lives simply but she lives alone, and for that fact alone she is considered both strange and in necessary want of a companion, for it is a truth universally acknowledged that even a peculiar woman is in want of a husband. yet no sojourner or knight come to her door seeking remedy is invited to stay longer, no boots left at her doorstep despite the impressive if not daunting presence of her beauty, and in the absence of romance the people in the farmlands grow restless, then talkative. what does a woman want beside a mate, they wonder? particularly when she is young, and beautiful, and alone, they add, because in these stories and every one that will be told thereafter until my throat is split in a great red grin, that is all that matters to an active audience. a child, they murmur finally. it must be a child. there are varying accounts of what happens next, but let me give you the gristle: a swell comes to the solitary woman’s belly, and in more moons, so comes a daughter. no one remembers when she is born, and it is something of a wonderment that she exists at all; far and wide she is eyed thrice-over by all those who see her babe form swaddled in her mother’s arms, wondering over which crib she has been snatched from. the farm-folk in the nearby flatlands believe that she was not stolen or bred but placed, a changeling offered to her mother in exchange for a bargain made with the undying god, or conjured up by spell and pure maternal desire alone (for you were a fool if you believed these simple folk saw a woman, young and beautiful and alone and with her fingers in the dirt, and never called her witch). others still swear the child came from the unfolded petals of a white flower, her minute form bundled up where the pollen was meant to be. whether this gossip speaks to the audacity of the men in the telling of the lie or the stupidity of the listener for believing something so unnatural, i will let you decide. or perhaps you believe in magic. do you? i digress. so as you are learning, the first bargain is both unimportant and not. completely individual and irrevocably part of a far larger, grander whole, indistinguishable from the rest. but next comes the girl, as i promised. and she is very, very important. she is our story. she is her mother’s in full, because blood and magick are one and the same, and the farmers are right in this alone: her mother loves her as meat loves salt, as lions love flesh and blood and not cabbages, and there is no unnatural thing in this world she would not do to make her borne. she loves her from dusk to dawn and dirt to moon, and so she gives her a name stitched with irony so that the fates will not sew it into her bones: maiden. a thing from every story, a girl on every street. she names her after a concept so that she will always be real, made of life. so that the tales whose paths she walks will not decide for her. mother and maiden live in the little cottage in the wide grasslands between wicked wood and dry cropland, and in the nothingness they have everything they need. mother hunts for their supper and teaches maiden to carry a bow when it is time, and more importantly how to give thanks to the beasts they carve up on the wooden table. they collect logs for fires and till the gardens by hand, taking from the earth all that they need and never - as mother instructs - a drop more. they play games of knots and crosses in the dirt and maiden makes dramas with the figures mother whittles, and to give you the very best truth of all, they want for very little that they do not have. she learns how to be a raven (observing), a fox (clever), a rabbit (swift), a riddle (everything all at once, and only sometimes a girl) from mother and the animals both, and she walks about the meadows barefoot and learns from the trees and birds, loves them the way she never loves people only because she has not had the chance. mothers and fauna are all well and good to take lessons from, but they do make a strange girl. she tells her secrets to the bees and watches the far-off puffs of smoke from the farmlands, pretending they are streams from a dragon’s nostrils and not the warmth of a hearth with children her age sitting next to it so that she does not feel sorry for herself. to her, there are but two people: her mother, and the people she trades with. it is not so bad; they are both very good at being alone, and the people of the nearest town are even better at reminding them to stay that way. when they blow into the hamlet on the western breeze maiden makes games of hanging off porches and climbing things that should never be touched, and she laughs so freely all the other children cannot help but come out from their hiding places and join her until their fathers call them back in. not with her, they say. not that one. — but o, how sweet and precocious a child she is when the visitors come, wrists knotted behind her back and eyes tied forward as she questions their intentions and demands, as if in secondary payment, life stories as recompense for mother’s skills. how you would have loved her, i tell you, that girl with her flaxen hair and moon-eyes, tugging on sleeves and walking the verbal-stride of a child who never learned how to shrink herself — how i love her even now! and if i must tell you something else: magic is rarely courteous, and almost never consolatory. when it arrives, no matter how many pieces of furniture i have shifted in my heart to make way for a girl called maiden, it comes with no such open space in its pit. where i have crafted an open sitting parlour it has bedroom sets and wicker fruit baskets and even a few grand lamps (never mind the fact that lamps do not yet exist; in the cavity of magic, there are always lamps), and so when it arrives she feels the weight of all these things dropped upon her head. and mother, who does so well at holding her silence it resembles a newborn babe swathed in cloth, still grips the quiet as carefully as church glass - even with one arm in disuse. you know by now, of course, what has happened. it is no secret to you or i what occurred that day, as some pieces of stories swell until they brush up against the audience independent of the narrative altogether. the effect was grand even if the moment was not, for unfortunately sometimes even the greatest plot devices happen when the writer is sleeping and cannot pause to fancy it all up. one moment a hand is merely a hand passing twine and foxglove, the next it has frozen in place. it might have been a lovely image under any other circumstance: the look of a pale, slim arm grasping a hanging purple head of flowers beneath thick, glittering ice like a delicately painted carving in a snowglobe. But indeed, how the image shook them instead of the other way around. in an effort to distract her, mother peels open the earth’s secrets at the seam and lets her peek into the sticky, moist centers and slurp the knowledge for herself. she shows her how to unfold plant-magic on the large wood table and lessons her on how to use it kindly in poultices and elixirs and bunches of dried ravensmaw. she learns what is used for fresh wounds and the herbs best combined to stave off heartbreak, and they are more similar than you think. but things are, distinctly, never the same: in a house that has only ever had two voices, there arrives a great sweeping of silence. mother is far-away in a place of wondering, the spot where mothers are ought to go when considering how best to protect their child. maiden too spends time in that same seat questioning who it is that has made her and why they stole from two separate bowls of clay, though the pair never seem to sit down and share a table in that place in peace. life goes on this way, i am loathe to report, until it gets worse. there is an awful quiet that does not leave that house, suspended between the unasked questions of what to do and what am i? maiden is kept from leaving the cabin or its surrounding pasture in ever-climbing extents until she is nought but bound to them, and mother makes the trips to the farmlands for supplies alone and ushers her out of the room when clients arrive. so, here she is in full, with flaxen hair and a moon hidden underneath her tongue: clever and strange, curious and lovely, tall and just a little too spindly-boned. a raven, a fox, a rabbit, a riddle, and sometimes a girl. magic bound in bones. a shut-in who never had reason to grow a heart, but did anyway, and now she is left to the lonesome. truly, can we blame her for what she did next, for answering the door all those moons later simply because someone knocked, and letting them in without checking if their teeth were bicuspids or fangs? can we fault that lonely creature for believing she could help, and fixing the tonic herself rather than waiting for mother, as instructed? can we accuse her for what came next, the slimmest moment of ice crystals skittering across a workbench, cold little diamonds that another less-shrewd eye might have ignored, but this one picked out? and what of the day the child got lost with a thorn in its foot, how she snuck from the cabin and cooed for them till it was yanked free, the simple smoothing of her thumb over the sole leaving it smooth as milk — i ask you that, in true: what crimes would you charge her with? do you blame the tiger for its hunting? it is only following nature, after all. or do you cast your stones on the people who threw nets through the trees and called it protection, expecting not to bleed. one cannot take in a wolf and expect it to never look back at the forest, no matter how well fed it is kept. like a flower cannot choose its colour, we cannot help what we become. she could not help what she did. it was only in her nature. so like rain, like a black cloud, like bad omens, the rumours come for the maiden, the one in the meadow, the one in the little wooden hut with the strange-beautiful-alone mother. daughter is even worse than the mother, they say. i heard it was ice — no, wind — nay, she is vitalus too — they build and rise until mother-maiden can hear the gossip in the air, having travelled by raven-feather and west-wind. of course none of it is the truth, for she bares a reality that no one yet knows — something hidden away like an egg inside an egg at the deepest part of the world — but it does not matter. audiences do not look for fact, they clutch only to wickedness or sweetness, as i have already told you. mother grows panicked with hydrangeas of fear spouting out of her ears, demanding a flight to be taken, and daughter lies awake at night wondering how to do so without wings — questioning how it has come to pass that she knows the roots and berries and grass, but not the woods or how to survive in them. you know, still, what happens next. there is another knock at the door, and despite lessons learned, the maiden answers the call: and this time it is death standing there waiting. they come to an agreement. sometimes death, too, is kind. history peeks its lazy, pinned-down eyes around the corner when the maiden of this story leaves her little hovel, fingers made of revolutions and religions clinging tightly to the doorframe to watch her go. the journey is perilous and full of dark places and occasional humour, if you are interested in that kind of adventure. i will tell it another time, when the back of my tongue has been given rest. i wish i could tell you, dear reader, which sort of story this will be: drama or comedy, mask one or mask two. but i don’t know yet. we will find out together, which makes us accomplices, you and i - like colleagues. two thieves after the same jewel. i have told her story because i love her, this much you know to be true by now, because we do not let the ones we love tell war stories. which is, in essence, what every story we can ever tell is: a battle of wits, or a conflict of hearts, or the combat of self against self. there is always a fight against something. it’s the nature of humanity, to push and poke and burn. —- – and now you see what i meant at the beginning of this tale: bargain. girl. magic. all of it comes in that necessary order and none at all. bargain. it arrives first, before her birth, a rumour; at the same time, it is the last twist, the thing that brings her to this castle. girl. she is born; she exists. magic. her blood, her marrow; a complexity of sparks and hope. a beginning, a middle, an end. a circle. a moon. PLOT IDEAS: These are laid out in a potential arc/chronological order of when I see them happening, but with the exception of a few, almost any combination could work! I. SHUCKED FROM PETALS. I’d like to grow Maiden’s role as a botanist -- both in terms of having her interest in botany itself swell, and also expand this into something of an inventor or potioner function. While she’s currently making strange concoctions at the King’s request, as an inherently curious woman I see these demands as something that will spark interest in her to create on her own. While in her youth she quizzed her mother on the applications of leaves and stems, now that she has no mentor for the process, she can only question and find answers by working through the hypotheses and methods herself. II. ON THE BASIS OF MORALITY. I see very strongly Maiden descending further into the plot to assassinate Septimus and joining the group of revolters in a more tangible way. Her ability to fight and knowledge of courtly life are both lacking, but she offers a unique vantage point of visiting all manner of individuals with the perfect excuse -- their health. As she becomes more decidedly entangled in the rebellion efforts and subsequently offers up her services to them, she begins to craft salves and potions with hidden effects, used in application against those they stand against (a poultice made with an herb that lends to truth when tending to someone with information / a drought with added pollen so that a guard may sleep through their shift that night, etc). Less fleshed out, but still worth noting: if the laced salves and elixirs are a no-go, she could slide into something of a spy/informant role fairly easy. Again, she has easy access to any array of people as the castle, and can come and go from different bedsides silently -- listening in on conversations all the while. III. FASTER THAN MINE ARROW. At the behest of the revolution -- where intentions ring with righteousness yet impact may be less virtuous -- I see Maiden encouraged to embrace her Inferni powers by rebel cohorts. While it’s not a path I see her arriving at and walking on her own, as she entrenches herself in the ideals and plots of the revolution, it would still be a willingly-made choice -- albeit perhaps still a reluctant one. She far prefers to heal than harm, but as the plot to kill Septimus ripens, she would accept the notion that an offensive skill gained by her becomes a shield and sword to the cause. I interpret this as less of an embrace of violence and more an eventual acceptance of her magic in all its parts; Maiden removing her gloves and making attempts at practicing Inferni magic brings with it an acknowledgement that not only are these powers part of her but they are hers alone to control. If she can develop some mastery over them, she can use them as she sees morally right, rather than their use dictated to her by others (so she believes). I want to see her not think of her magic as an intrusion and a mystery, but rather some native at the pit of her -- like stone in a fruit. As long as it is there, one could not bite straight through her. Sub-bullet because it’s not a huge thing, but I’d love a moment where she’s practicing with the ice in the greenhouse and loses control, subsequently destroying much of the flora in there beyond salvation -- cue a sobbing Maiden. Also! Would love to use this as an excuse for the Hierophant to become a sort-of mentor for her -- a dynamic she would undoubtedly seek out and beg for if the time came. IV. WHERE TRUTHS CONFLICT. As clearly as I envision Maiden’s loyalties knotting tighter to the revolutionaries, I don’t believe her resolution is iron in every aspect. While she may agree that King Septimus needs to be removed, deciding which successor she wishes to support would be far harder. This plot could be as simple as indecision and uncertainty on Maiden’s part, or could be as complex as a more nefarious individual taking advantage of her courtly ignorance and indecisiveness by manipulating her into backing their pick for future ruler. V. THE CURE & THE RUIN. Working intimately with anything lends to cross-contamination -- including poisonous plants. My thoughts on this fork a few different ways here, albeit my personal fave is the first bullet: Through her own misinformation or inexperience, Maiden accidentally begins to poison herself through prolonged exposure to toxic flora and their materials. Seeing as she’s in the greenhouse for hours at a time nearly every day, this would lend to a good, steady incline of symptoms -- paranoia, delusion, hallucinations, etc until they potentially culminate in a kind of temporary “madness.” An individual or party on the loyalist side discovers what she is doing for the revolters, and applies the same concept -- a slow poisoning, made to look accidental by exposure to the wrong flower. This may be less likely as it might be implausible for another character to have a knowledge of botany that surpasses her own and plant something toxic in the Greenhouse without Maiden realizing, but I’m totally open to it! Similar to the last, rather than a loyalist poisoning Maiden, they find a way to access her stash of concoctions and alter them so that they harm rather than heal those she is working with. Could be particularly dramatic if she is working long-term on a member of royalty or influential revolution member -- ie. something like visiting them daily to apply salve on a new wound that needs consistent tending. VI. WHAT ARE YOU, SWEET CREATURE? Maiden’s dual powers are bound to come into public knowledge eventually, and I think there’s the opportunity for some terror and delight there. I’ve been ruminating a lot on what the hybrid of her Inferni and Vitalus powers mean -- An Inferni rarely lives past thirty, and Maiden is already twenty-five. I’ve been imagining that she has not seen or felt the costs of her power like other Inferni due to the innate nature to heal, which is undoubtedly something other Inferni would desire. Whether Maiden willingly lays herself down to experimentation in the name of aiding the Hierophant or she’s literally captured by Septimus and crew for a less careful kind of research -- I’d love to see her secret blown up and her safety compromised as a result. VII. IT HURTS TO BECOME. I have little octopus tentacles coming out of this plot because I can see multiple variations on the same idea, so -- As inspired by the “Vitalis magic often manifests itself in nobility” line from the magic page, Maiden is discovered as the descendent of a noble bloodline. This could mean her father was the bearer of a title, or that even in a Mother Gothel-esque fashion her mother took her from a family in the desire to have her own child (though I favour the former). This is less about an advancement in her social standing/hierarchy and more about playing further with the themes of birth and identity. Particularly as an individual that isn’t well-matched to courtly manner and expectations, what would it be to disturb her peculiar existence further and force her into a lifestyle she has no interest in? How does it detract from her purpose and goals? Her mother is found out as someone who previously stayed at the Temple of the Undying and departed in some form of scandal known to the High Priestess. I think this would be particularly impactful if her mother’s time there overlapped directly with the High Priestess, and their relationship marked by some form of betrayal on her mother’s end. This would make her mother a necromancer, a fact that if going from this route was certainly kept from Maiden, or we could work with the concept that perhaps she was merely an emissary there. This bullet is less formed as it would require plotting with at least one other player, but essentially it boils down to braiding the High Priestess into her backstory (or, at least, the Temple of the Undying) -- a completion of the maiden/mother/crone build, if you will. Realistically, the above could be combined -- her mother has a past tied to both the Temple of the Undying, and her father is of noble descent. Lastly, this idea could also be twisted into a falsehood/manipulation of someone from Septimus/the Loyalist side -- she does not have noble blood and/or her mother’s past is made up, but they have fed her this story(s)  in an attempt to distract/derail her from her purpose, or otherwise sway her onto the side of the Crown. VIII. THE MAIDEN IN THE TOWER. I see very clearly what Maiden could be in years time -- in the same way the King has the Tower, or perhaps even The High Priestess, I envision the capacity for Maiden to become an advisor in the arcane arts to the future ruler. This is very epilogue-esque content, the resolution to a tale long told, something far-off and subject to change depending on how the roleplay unfolds -- but if I was planning her arc from where I stand now, that would be the resolution. A femme!Merlin now in tune with her magicks, a strange figure forever working away in her greenhouse-laboratory in the highest room in the tallest tower, descending to the court only to offer counsel and smile at a few bugs… art. And maybe, just maybe, there’s even a bard out there singing about a strange moon-touched woman and her magic, who came from the Farmlands and ended up in a castle. That, I think, would make an awfully good story. CHARACTER DEATH: I’m definitely not opposed to it! If you see a plotline where her death makes sense I’m open to at least having the discussion -- it would probably depend how I’m feeling about her character development, as I do see quite clearly how far Maiden could develop with extensive, long-term rping (the Merlin-esque shit) and it’d be super cool to get there. WRITING SAMPLE SAMPLE #01. TWENTY-FIVE. CASTLE TYRHOLM, THE GREENHOUSE. Based on headcanons found in the extra section! it is the damnable wine she calls to blame for her recession from the great hall. yet still unused to its potency, it turns her stomach and her mind with it, until she is unbalanced and sure a marble placed upon the centre of her would roll only to one side, lolling comically behind her left ear. maiden swears she can hears it as she takes her leave from the night’s feast, a hideous clacking circling around her skull as she takes the steps to the greenhouse. the sound was a well accompaniment to the noise of heart against rib, that lub lub that reminisced so closely to collection of stones in a velvet satchel. how is that for an appraisal, she thinks. an inferni and a vitalus yet, and yet you cannot even hold your liquor. down below, music begins. septimus is performing one of his many wonders, conjuring up new entertainments like a foreigner’s god and his labours – things meant to fell mortal men in their spectacle. the sound, though muffled by stone, is light and deceptive with a beat kept by tambourine and wound through with panpipes. it crashes and crawls as a serpent through brush, dragging its body across the span of men’s shoulders and up the marble spires until it reaches the slender ankles of maiden high above, who slips from the darling (albeit pinching) satin slippers borrowed from the magician. o, that that song had teeth. it would sink them pit-deep into that lovely, exposed ankle. the footfalls that emerge from the far entrance are remote in distance, yet the cadence of it -- quick and spry, in the pattern of a courtly dance -- are close and recognized by ear in an instant. “your skill is in the making of noise, bard. so i would suggest --” she calls to armel with a bland hum, bent over a troop of growing windflowers as she cuts the largest at the stalk, her sharp fingernail used in place of scissors. “leaving behind these foolhardy attempts to remove sound from your being altogether.” maiden looks up then to the musician’s hiding place, half-covered as he is by bushes camellias and hanging vines. the look given beneath her brows is chiding, but it is a reproach with a single candle lit within, a glance perhaps warmed by liquor despite its meaning. “how do you always do that?” he asks, and maiden decides there is something rather feline about him as he emerges from the brush, shoulders rolling with that mandolin hoisted over one. “i didn’t say a word.” “you do not need to. your stroll speaks for you.” the air is moon-hot and the music swells below them, rising like tide to their knees, now their hips. her voice is cut-rope, one end loose in the water, and maiden lets the tide of the pull her, only one end remaining on shore. “asides…” she sighs, “you limp on the left.” “i do not.” “indeed you do. like a horse with a lame leg.” it is a full-force lie, dropped into a casket of wine and pulled out stinking, and armel catches her half-crescent smile at the same moment he spots her bare feet. “i suppose you won’t be returning to the ball, then.” maiden turns and takes to walking the length of the greenery. her back turns to him, but not unkindly; instead her slow, graceful gait seems an invitation to join, though he does not follow. she listens to armel as she winds through the tall grass, eyes upon the stalks, searching for anything that might catch her eye. in the moonlight she is all silhouette and odd-shapes, ever and always a little too-tall, a little too sharp-boned at the joints. but when she moves like this, slow and easily-flooded as moonlight itself, one could forget all that. “dancing slippers are quite unsuitably named,” she says by way of answer as the bard begins an absent strum on his instrument. “they give me no motivation at all to partake in such merriment.” armel does not answer, instead quite pensively continuing to pluck at notes while looking at the near distance -- assumedly undergoing great internal debate as to whether or not he was, truly, a lame horse. “a peace —” she slides the long stem of a gore-red windflower behind his ear when next she passes, as natural a move as though it were but tucking a strand of her own hair behind her ear. maiden smiles. “you actually limp on the right.” //

SAMPLE #02. AGE FIFTEEN. A MOMENT OF WEAKNESS & A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. Fire, it would seem, had ceased to be a friend to her. As a girl she had delighted in it, waving her hands above it, warming herself on it, staring at every passing wooden cart laden with people in the chance that one of them could be a fire-eater. Ice, that thing that ate and yawned across lakes and thatched roofs as if it remembered it had once devoured the world, was far more cruel in Maiden’s opinion. Could I not, at least, have had that which heats and provides sustenance? And more than even these sweet instances from childhood, she knew of fire intimately as an adult. It was a different kind of flame that brewed in her than what ran free in the wild; it was less violent and more warm, meant for thawing out the cold hands of children or creating delightful ever-shifting silhouettes on walls. She walked alone because she liked it, and spoke to strangers for great lengths of time because it excited her. That was her kind of fire, and so Maiden - it could be said - was as much flame as anyone, even as she chilled the air around her with her very presence. That was why, as she sat on her knees before the great outstretching flames of the parlour’s hearth, she had no caution as she threw paper into its guts. “Enough of this!” The girl was alone, but spoke aloud: it was part of her charm. Like a girl in a folktale who was subjected to life in a tower, she existed brightly when on her own because she knew no other way. The Mallorian girl did not need the accompaniment of another to prove her own worth. The fire sputtered charmingly in response, engorging itself as it swallowed paper and turned it into little pieces of nothingness. “No more curses, no more ice or damned magic!” Her hand shakes, but her heart holds its breath and remains steady. Stained at the tips with ash and melted ink, Maiden sits back on her thighs with a great tremble and stares into the flames before she falls to the pose of prayer. “Undying God, harbinger of all things, if this is your doing, let it be undone. I have wronged you not at all, nor my mother; I am not your child. Please.” Her ears burned pink with fear for addressing a deity with the same volume she would have a man standing before her, but it was too early to stop now. She pauses momentarily, straining to listen for a rumbling voice come from within the fire or swung in on the wind and branches. There is nothing but the crackle of pop of breaking wood. “Then -- then if it is the household spirits come for me, unhappy gnomes with rumbling tummies ‘for we have not been feeding them, emerge now! Or call it all off! Call it off, I say, spirits - take this magic from me so I may live in peace!” Again, she waits. And perhaps, if you would hold your hands over the ears of your heart and allow this young woman to admit it, she might have told you that she truly expected a troll-like little fellow with a green cap and scowling mug to emerge from beneath the ottoman. But there still is nothing, not even the tap of impatient little feet from behind the curtains, and her brows furrow as she stares into the hot gold and rose colours of the fire. Maiden sighs, a heavy breath that drops out of her mouth and rolls into the soot of the hearth. She suddenly feels much too old for these follies. Looking over at the pile of hastily-written spells and official decrees of intent (from Maiden to the Undying God, officially) to rid herself of this curse, the wheat-and-snow coloured girl pauses (and it pains me to say it, dearest reader, but the truth of the matter is that in the light of this blaze, she very much resembles the beautiful women you read about who either have very tragic ends or very wonderful ones in tales you all know). She had burned not even half yet, each one a representation of a day that had been ruined by questions or cold or mother’s worry, and there were still more to go. But no sign of the Undying in her great black steed, or impish house elves crawling out from the cracks beneath the woods. For a moment, she considers stopping. She considers picking up the remainder of the letters, tying them up with some of mother’s twine, and returning them to their proper drawer in the study. But as her hand hovers of the papyrus, her heart protests and causes her to pause. She is, after all, no girl in the tower. She will not sit in anybody’s stomach and wait for the woodsman. And if, in the odd and unusual chance that this circumstance of odd and unusual proportions is caused by something otherworldly, Maiden Mallorian shall not bow to it. No, no bowing indeed. “Now listen here --” Her voice raises, grows taller and older. It might be imagination, but the fire seems to as well. “Whether you be Undying God or lowly household gnome, I shall have no more of this. Do you understand? Are you listening, creatures?” There is nothing so impressive as unafraid, youthful folly. “I shall not be carried away to a cold temple to be a child of misery, and will not let this magic ruin me if you shall not bring me answers. If one of you are indeed responsible for this, it ends now. I am Maiden Mallorian, daughter of Yareli; and a right all in my own!” The sweet curves of her breasts rise and fall like toppling empires as she throws the remainder of the pages into the fire, staring fiercely into the contents as if to decipher an answer in their ash. There is a sudden seizure in her instead, a tight and pressing thing foreign to her soft-spun body. It demands something of her, as intent as fingers pressing into her ribs. She picks up the letter opener at her side, brought from the study to slide open old envelopes, but now she raises it to her chin and cuts in one fell swoop. It does not happen with ease, but off comes a handful of her hair. The edges of her locks are jagged, but the pieces in her palm look like fine oat straw that glitter in the light. She throws that, too, into the pile, and does not realize it has chilled. “There.” She speaks. It is solid and sure and sane. “There is my tribute.” Magic cannot be made by offering someone else’s liver. You must tear out your own and never expect to get it back. “Please... take it away.” Her voice, once grand and ringing of dynasties past, now calms. She begins to sound once more like only a girl of this century. “I am… Maiden Mallorian… and I do not wish to live a life of unhappiness.” The strength that once held her shoulders aloft departs in a gentle breath, leaving her soft to touch -- quivering. “If you shall not take this from me... I will make my own way, no matter who has done this -- be it God or beast or some creature in between --” She stands, in possession of some quiet power. “One day I will find my truth. And then I will know a free heart at last.” She leaves before the paper and hair have all disappeared, trusting the fire -- that once-longtime friend, that formerly beloved and willingly indentured servant -- to do as it is meant to. As the cold evening wages on the flame starts to die, and, left unattended, everything turns to ash. All that is left in the hearth of the Mallorian home is the same colour: black. But it is not a frightening colour if you look closely. It seems, perhaps, the ink in this story is drying. It is time for a new chapter.

EXTRAS A NOTE ON ~MAGICK: I just wanted to state that while I loved imbuing her story/personality with themes of oddity and enchantment, I don’t expect any of these things to be real. Her biography was supposed to be an exaggerated verbal retelling, and in example: the rumour that Maiden’s birth was the result of not a normal conception but pure willpower and magic is just that -- hearsay crafted by unnerved townsfolk trying to justify a strange, unmarried woman in the woods and her peculiar daughter. I’m also not sure what balance you’re looking to strike between realism and fantasy, so if things like her pet owl are too much the former -- no problem!! I could definitely tone down anything you think is too out there! PINTEREST: here. MUSE TAG: here. CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS BIG AND SMALL!: Kayley (Quest for Camelot), Garrett (Quest for Camelot), Phoebe Buffay (Friends), Amalthea (The Last Unicorn), Rapunzel (Tangled), Merlin (The Sword in the Stone), Arthur (The Sword in the Stone), Taran (The Black Cauldron), Eilonwy (The Black Cauldron), Katrina van Tassel (Sleepy Hollow (1999)), Nimue/Lady of the Lake (Arthurian mythology), Honey Lemon (Big Hero 6), Vasya Petrovna (The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden), Kida (Atlantis: The Lost Empire), The Mage (King Arthur: Legend of the Sword), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Thumbelina (fairytale), Circe (Circe by Madeline Miller), Yvaine (Stardust) HEADCANONS: She has a mild form of associative prosopagnosia, a type of facial blindness. While Maiden can distinguish faces from one another, it’s essentially difficult for her to recognize those she’s newly met or has not known (and subsequently seen) for a certain amount of time. As her youth in the woods meant infrequent visits from varying strangers and acquaintances, Maiden learned from a very young age to identify those she met with other signifiers -- the pitch of their voice, their cadence, the pattern of their boots on her mother’s shop’s creaky wood floor -- and she has become exceptional at it. While she may struggle to associate new faces with names, if she has heard your voice or the template of your gait, it is likely she can recognize you from the sound of these alone in the next room. Contingent on the above, I like to picture a longstanding game between Armel and Maiden with him attempting to sneak up on her, trying to outdo her hearing abilities only to be smoothly called out each time -- like the first twenty seconds of this scene from Tarzan. -- And obviously this was inspo for one of my writing samples! Major sweet tooth, and most likely has a standing relationship with The Hanged Man who provides her with desserts in exchange for tonics or pouches of seasoning curated from Maiden’s personal collection up in the greenhouse. Alternatively, she’s The Hanged Man’s personal Garfield, constantly being chased out of the kitchen before she can stick a finger in icing or steal a hot bun. Another Armel headcanon because I’m a sucker for a Found Sibling dynamic: Maiden has been teasing him for ages with the concept of knowing (and withholding) an Epic Folksong that her mother taught her and that would be just perfect for him to perform. There’s every likelihood that there is no song and she’s made it up to amuse herself, but every once and a while she hums a foreign tune or drops a few words from the “lyrics” to keep him interested. If it is a real song, bonus points if she’s making Armel do little chores etc to earn another piece of the song. Subject to plotting with Death’s player, I imagine her nickname/alias Triss was borne from a singular moment where they introduced her to someone within the castle upon arrival -- only to bluster that she used that strange name, Maiden, which confused the third party. Death makes a quick save by adding that “she means only that she is a maiden from the Farmlands,” and creating the assumed name on the spot, forcing Maiden to adopt it. Both due to falling asleep atop a text after extensive nights reading and researching and the comfort of being around plants, Maiden often sleeps in the greenhouse -- in fact, she prefers it to the cramped quarters she’s been given, and keeps a spare blanket there at all times. In the greenhouse has also come into residence a fat, one-eyed grey cat who she has named Augrunn, known affectionately (or otherwise) Auggie. Grumpy and demanding, Maiden found him taking shelter in the greenhouse on a particularly rainy day, and though he comes and goes as he pleases, it’s now effectively his home. Auggie is known to both yowl for personal space if you’re too close and swipe if you stop petting him too early. Similarly, Maiden has an owl-friend whose name I haven’t decided on, but the front-runner is currently Archimedes. Unbothered by Augrunn’s attempts to snatch him out of the air, he’s a chill little feather-loaf that watches the comings and goings of the greenhouse from the carved wood perch she has made him. He is aware of the location of Maiden’s sleeping quarters, and can occasionally be found sitting on her windowsill when she’s there. She bruises very easily, even in circumstances unrelated to use of her Inferni magic -- just as likely to get a mark from walking into a corner as she is to scar from the use of her ice powers. Insects don’t bother her in the slightest. Growing up in a small home filled with plants, there were always bugs crawling around the flora, and Maiden appreciates them all. She will 100% pick up the scary spider you’re flinching from and make sure they get back to their web. Prefers to be barefoot, and likely does not share the same feelings of taboo around exposed skin as most others -- to her, flesh is only flesh, and a very natural thing at that. Temperature is a funny thing for her -- given that she seems to emanate a kind of cold, I think it stands to reason that she doesn’t easily chill, but that it is also hard to heat her up. I picture it like a normal hand held above a flame, then one stuck in the snow -- it’s going to take longer for her to melt before she feels any pain from the fire. CONNECTIONS: *Obligatory these are just ideas and I’m totally open when it comes time to plotting with these players! THE HIEROPHANT: Chihiro and Haku vibes (that sort-of-romance entirely unnecessary, though I would be down for Maiden to have a little crush), basically. Give me a Maiden as impressed by their showy nature as their inner fire to overthrow Septimus -- an Inferni mentor, even, or just an individual that helps guide her through the dangers of Tyrholm’s court. Also… ice and fire... I meant to do more but ran out of time rip

#155 — Saturday, March 26th, 2019 — Ryan Ellis Photography - Detroit Street Photography Session #155 — Nikon Nikkor Ai-S 35mm f/2 (ca. 1982-3)

Photograph or Flight Response Tested - Roy R. Rowlands - Flags Hart Plaza - Brush Street Study - Homeless Goat - Two Tents Equal A Fifth - Homeless Man Pitches At Tigers Stadium - Spring Loaded - Selfie By Hudson Site - Lines Looking Up And Lines Looking Down - Greektown Worm Moon Rising - Greektown After Morning Twilight - Greektown Homeless Man - Knowledge Is Power - Library Vs. School - David Bosco Willis - The Man With Three First Names - Happy Lass In Downtown - Self-Professed G.O.A.T. Meets Goat - Diptych - Triptych 

Arrived @ 7:15 AM

Departed @ 3:30 PM

1,036 photos (and also 18 videos) taken in 8¼ hours with 56 “keepers” among them, rendering a pauper’s percentage with just a 5.4% “success” rate at a king-size pace of 121.88 shots per hour (I desire the most at least to achieve a 10% “success” rate and 100 shots per hour).

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PREFACE:  A few years ago, I saw a CL listing for a camera gear lot that appeared to be from the non-Ai-era of Nikon’s camera line history. Included in this lot was a “Saligar” 35mm f/2.8 (ca. 1964) lens. The owner of it told me that if super glue had been invented in the early sixties, when he accidentally dropped the lens, he would have fastened it back together with that, but, instead, it was held together by masking tape. This same man in a past life headed the crash test dummy department at GM in the 1980′s, making his living by developing the safest cars possible (quite honorable). The lens makes issues with the shutter. It puts odd shadows across images. I would use it artistically if I could predict and/or control the obscurations better. This lens has taken some fantastic shots, but the mechanical pain of having to disconnect and reconnect it all the time keep it low on my roster.  :—:— A couple years ago, I bought a Nikkor-S 35mm f/2.8 (ca. 1964) lens from a mysterious French woman in Royal Oak. I had the price readjusted when I examined it, finding hundreds of scratches on the front element glass. The lens blew out brighter parts and seemed a bit dull in the focus. I thought the thing might be useful for artistic, niche things, but it is only good for video some of the time and for photography hardly any of the time. :—:— This week, I found a Nikkor Ai-S 35mm f/2 (ca. 1982/3) lens used on CL and sprung for it. I wish the story of this second lens purchase were more interesting, but believer’s bias is no better than bias because of reality. :—:— I read on Ken Rockwell’s website that this particular lens was a trouble regarding lens flare and barrel distortion. I never shot a good 35mm lens, so this was my chance to shoot a good one yet be disappointed somewhat unavoidably by its persistent flaws in spite of all other circumstances being the veriest operative. :—:— I wanted to see how today might go with this newest (to me) 35mm lens.     

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PATH TAKEN:

Greektown - It was 26° F with low winds outside when I arrived in Detroit. “Tergiversate” is a word that many times aptly describes me. I do it often. I did it often upon my arrival in Greektown. Saturdays (my habitual Detroit street photography day), I frequently get street side only to return to my vehicle for something I forgot. This happened about three (or [sadly] more) times when I arrived. I love the old pastor’s explanation as to why David brought with him five smooth stones from the river when there was just one Goliath of Gath to vanquish—in case Goliath had four brothers with him when David arrived to defeat Israel’s anthropic Apollyon. Likewise, when I go out shooting, I take only what I need—as well as more in case I need it as well (my incurable optimism and hopeless hoping binds me to such measures). All that said, I unhappily admit I felt a bit dazed in my focus; I felt early on the weight of the world upon me. I thought, “what am I doing here?” I was sad that I have had these three years (all my time doing photography seriously) of famine in my photographic pursuits, profits-wise. I hoped to crush the proverbial skull at Golgotha with the cross I bore upon its placement atop the mount of sorrow I climbed today (to slightly borrow another preacher’s extra-biblical tale). :—:— I am awful at posing folks. That is something I wish to learn by observing folks far, far better than myself at posing others doing just that. When I take a people shot, I take the shot. Haha. I have no instructions for the subject(s), though I tell groups to gather nearer to one another for my final shot. A homeless man approached me asking me to take his picture. He was insistent that I would do that, so I did. I did not know he was homeless until a few shots in, because he told me as much as most do, which is to say that he talked of his need to find a job and some money. He even said that he wanted me to photograph his struggle as a homeless man. With that, he laid on the ground and closed his eyes as if to sleep. I warily proceeded photographing him in this and other poses. Finally, I gave him my card with instructions on how to get the best shots, should he find himself with a phone or online, and I told him all that I knew regarding getting help and getting employment. I really need to learn what proper local resources there are for the homeless. I meet and converse with maybe a half-dozen or more every week.

Brush Street - Trying to do something novel in order to write off my woes, I turned left on Monroe Street before it exited Greektown (instead of following it up to Campus Martius Park). I thought the light made the scene I saw look nice, so I took a three-shot burst of it (I shot bracketed with a third of a stop between shots to minimize the need to edit out bad lighting in post-processing). Thinking of my study of the RenCen video from a couple months back ( https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq51gEvn25a/ ), I continued this three-shot burst of the same scene of Brush Street until I ended up inside of the RenCen itself! Mayhaps, I might make this into a mini-movie with music underneath on my ‘gram!  

East Larned Street - I admit I have not the keenest eye for distortion. This lens I shot with today (Nikkor 35mm f/2 [ca 1982-3]) was put down by Ken Rockwell for having pretty bad distortion (it makes straight lines look curved as the image moves from the center to the edges). This annoyance was pronounced when I shot the brand new Plum Market’s dining room from outside. I could not satisfactorily get straight lines on the edges of my very boxy composition.

Spirit of Detroit Plaza - I struck up a conversation with a man carrying a large backpack with Iraq-War-style U.S. camouflage patterned throughout its sections. I jokingly asked if he had brought everything he needed, and he laughed and replied, “No, I do not have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!” I replied, “Some folks are deathly allergic to nuts, so maybe that was a good thing!” He said, “Well, I am not, so I would still take the sandwich!” :—:— From here, we went back and forth in conversation. I asked if he had served in the military, and he said that he came from a family with several sisters, and because he was the only man amongst his siblings, he was told and also decided to not serve in the military in order to carry on his family name. He added that he had several family members that had served. His father was a marine. His uncle served too (and others). He said that he was a firearms instructor and taught many current and former military folks over the years. He was an older gentleman, in his middle years by my estimation, so I asked if he was from Detroit. He said he was born and raised here and only spent a little while elsewhere. With that answer given, I asked if he remembered the 1967 Race Riots in Detroit. He said yes and gave a bird’s eye view recollection of it but confessed he was quite young when it happened. I asked him about Dan Gilbert and Mile Ilitch. He had broadly favorable thoughts on the former and selected favorable thoughts on the latter. I gave him my card, and he told me something I have heard hundreds tell me: “I will contact you!” He caught his bus, and I went on my own merry way as well.  

Hart Plaza - A couple weeks ago, I emailed the office of the mayor of Detroit to file a formal (as much as I could find online at least) complaint that the American flags in the plaza were shredded at the ends or worse (and in dire need of respectful retirement and replacement). Upon sending the request, I received an automated response that I would get a reply within forty-eight hours. Remember, this is the city of Detroit—I never received a response. That said, the flags were all removed today (that is one step closer to a proper replacement). With or without my cue (perhaps, the flags are on a schedule [at least this is what Roy suggested when we later met up]), the government-perpetuated blight was partially fixed. I noticed that the Canadian flag across the Detroit River still flies (and is in immaculate condition as ever). Next, the city needs to raise up brand new American flags. That is not something I will file another formal complaint about, unless Memorial Day comes and goes with no U.S. flags in the plaza. :—:— Ken Rockwell’s review of the Nikkor 35mm f/2 lens (ais) was that it had bad lens flare, so, with the sun still rising and quite visible in the sky, I tested this assertion myself. There was a good bit of flare. I will hopefully make a lens review video with the shots and footage from today. It was pretty bad flare, but I could also see the artistic merits of using it at times. I guess if one was doing a paid gig that required a perfect representation of the world through the lens, the flare would be a huge issue. Fortunately (perhaps) for me, I am doing street photography in this context, and the flare is just wabi-sabi. :—:— In coursing through the different apertures in video mode on my camera (in order to see if the lens flare was helped or hurt depending on the aperture’s given width), I found that the sunstars that the lens made were just exquisite. Hahaha. I found it so funny that this lens that Mr. Rockwell said was not ever (if one wanted good results photographically) to be pointed at the sun was pretty bang-up precisely when it was pointed at the sun when stopped down. True, the flare was bad, but if you could get past that aesthetically, the sun looked marvelous! :—:— I filmed and did a time-lapse of the sun rising over the Detroit River. I was too impatient to wait for the sun to leave the frame, so I got it halving itself on the top of the composition by the end of the time-lapse that I took. It is a good thing I ducked out early, because I had my usual eleven AM meetup to make with Roy, and it was already nearly nine AM when I finally exited the plaza. 

Campus Martius Park 

Woodward Avenue (northeast side of the street) - Inspired by the change in my habitual path earlier (when I took Brush Street all the way to the RenCen), I decided to walk on the less-interesting side of Woodward Avenue all the way up to the Fisher Building (well, that was my ultimate plan at least). 

The Hudson Site - Here I will admit it:  I include self-portraits in my “top ten” shots often even if there may be an eleventh or twelfth shot in my own rankings that is better, because I want to not be forgotten as the person behind the work you experience here and elsewhere. Maybe the victors write the history. Well, the author certainly writes the history either way (though sometimes at the edge of a sword). I take my prerogative as the author, editor, and publisher of my own work to refer back to myself when it is not plain horrible-looking. :—:— The irony about this is that I strive to have a journalistic cleanness and honesty to my shots and write-ups (editorial opinions here and there notwithstanding). I do not edit my photos, except to straighten horizons and maybe crop slightly into the meat of the composition. This might be an excuse from one without photoshop or the like on his computer, but I also like the challenge of getting a photo right the first time. It keeps me striving for perfection (I hope in a healthy way). 

Comerica Park - Keeping with my otherly path today, I turned right onto Adams Street from Woodward Avenue, headed in the direction of Comerica Park. I thought the angle of the sun at that time of the day made the park look lovely, and like a parched, lone vagabond traversing a desert and seeing an oasis (or at least the supposed image of one), I walked toward the park in search of my next picture. The light looked not as good up close as it did from further away (it was but a mirage of a good shot after all). I might have gotten the shot after all had I a longer lens on me or if I was willing to crop the shot taken with my Nikkor 35mm f/2 (ca. 1982/3) lens, but I decided to get super low to the ground (one of my favorite perspectives of all) and make the park look epic. The shots I got were not as inspiring as hoped, so I turned left onto Witherell Street (which runs directly along the side of the Detroit MLB stadium). :—:— Earlier in the day, I photographed a homeless man that I did not initially know was homeless. He asked to be pictured, and that is what I did. As I walked in the direction of Woodward Avenue (heading through the double parking lot for handicap folks), I spied a pair of tents illegally set up in the road that split the two handicap parking lots. The tents were placed atop manholes that leaked excess hot steam that was meant to heat buildings. There were other manholes leaking steam near the tents, and the sun lit the plumes a golden-whitish hue that was marvelous to behold alongside the bright colors of the tents. As I passed by the first tent, I saw a homeless man peak his head out from its entrance, and I jokingly asked if he was camping out already for Black Friday’s deals. He glared at me and said something hateful under his breath. :—:— It is my rule to not photograph someone when they are in an underhanded position, because I would not want the same done to me. It is the Golden Rule put to action, and I commend all photographers to follow it. Having had the rude awakening last week to seeing a homeless woman counting a wad of cash in big bills that amounted by its size to probably more than I make in a week at my day job, I was a bit wary of empathizing with the excuses the homeless made for their oftentimes (anecdotally-speaking) blatant disregard for the rule of law and basic decency and courtesy besides. I decided to break my own rule and photograph the tents at Tiger’s Stadium. My DSLR (Nikon D800) is not a quiet shooter, and so the clicks in three-shot bursts did not maintain a scene deprived of a person for long, as the homeless man rushed out of one of his tents and started shouting at me invectives for daring to photograph his broad-daylight, lawbreaking campsite. I did not say a word but kept shooting, thinking of the three-thousand-year-old proverb that a soft word turns away wrath. The man was clearly on something, because he worked himself (albeit with a clumsy gait) into a froth of anger and made physical threats against me. I was twenty-feet away crouched low to the ground taking pictures of this scene. I figured that if he rushed me, I could get out in a snap. :—:— The man went into his tent and came out with something in his hand. Before I knew it, he threw it at me, trying to hit me. It was a half-eaten orange. I retorted, “that was perfectly good food, man! Why are you wasting food?” I thought about leaving or staying (the classic fight or flight, or in my case, photograph or flight). I decided in a split second to stay. The man went back into his tent and ramped up his verbal threats as well as his threatening posture. Then, he wound up and threw a sandwich in a sandwich bag at me. It loudly thudded when it hit the ground right next to me. He was drunk, and so he missed. I had already made my point that he had wasted food. I saw the sandwich bag next to me, and I considered that it was probably a direct gift from a kind stranger to him. He did not care about that. He only cared about privacy in the middle of a major city (a contradiction in terms). I talk to homeless folks every week. One question I often ask is, “where are you staying?” Many answer, “Under a bridge” or “under a [public structure].” If this man wanted peace and quiet, camping in the middle of a parking lot in a busy side of town (and with two tents just for his single self!) was not a fitting decision. I thought later of this drunken vagrant: “Two tents equal a fifth,” because only the drunks among the homeless that I see are so ambitiously stupid. I said no grievous words to this homeless man, but I had grievous thoughts (borrowing from last week’s hypocritical spectacle). My presence was to him grievous, so, in keeping with the second half of the aforementioned three-thousand-year-old proverb, I fear I stirred up his anger and brought upon myself what befell me (and it could have been worse [I could have been hurt, and/or my gear could have been damaged]). :—:— One way or the other, I adore the triptych that resulted from this experience. It is a homeless man “pitching” in front of the major league baseball stadium in Detroit! I would love to hear from a baseball expert if his form was proper. 

Woodward Avenue (northeast side of the street) - Forcing myself to stay on a different path than usual, I walked on the less-interesting side of Woodward Avenue. 

Detroit Institute of Art - I clearly do not visit this art museum enough. I have not walked through it since last fall, when I went with my good pal, miss S.C. :—:— As proof of my lack of familiarity with this spot, I accidentally mistook the fountain in the front for a staircase, since it went up by steps. Hahahaha. I did not realize the error of my ways until I want almost to the top. I saw that there was a huge gap, and it only then struck me that it was a turned-off (for the cold season) fountain! No one said you had to have common sense to be a photographer. I just point and shoot what looks interesting to me, and sometimes I even think about what I am shooting! Haha. Photography is a little more than seeing and snapping, but only a little. Once all the distractions of knowing why you are doing what you are doing are assuaged, all you are left with is the meeting of preparation and opportunity (should you will to make something of your abundance [and hopefully with humility, grace, and thankfulness]).  

Detroit Public Library 

WSU Department of Mortuary Science - It did not smell like anything outside of this building, but the winds were low, and the temperature was no higher than 32° F outside. 

The Fisher Building - I made it to the Fisher! I admit that (to me) the Nikkor 35mm f/2 (ca. 1982/3) lens is not the best for architectural photography. I had more pleasure shooting with my Nikkor 24mm f/2.8 (ca. 1971) lens that I did with the 35mm lens. It was just too zoom-y for me. Haha. That reminds me of a story I heard about Monty Python alum and thereafter director extraordinaire (on his own), Terry Gilliam. Mr. Gilliam is admittedly an odd fellow (see his body of work for proof). There is one area, where he and I may have pretty close similarities. The man prefers ultra-wide lenses for everything, and he considers a normal lens to be a “zoom” for him. I have to say that I like to get super close to my subjects, and so an ultra-wide is my friend. My 24mm lens is my go-to most weeks in the city (along with my Nikkor 55mm f/1.2 [ca. 1971] [these are my standard camera body companions on my outings]). :—:— Though I desired to use a 24mm or wider outside and inside the Fisher Building, I persisted with the 35mm (even though I brought along [and never used] my 55mm lens in a small camera bag on my side), because today was a day to review this lens, and I was going to use it even when it was not the best choice (as much as I could muster). Once inside the building, I found the folks at the front desk much more hospitable than the ones that occupied it a couple weeks prior   

Woodward Avenue (southwest to northeast side of street) 

East Warren Avenue - Instead of taking Mack Avenue from Woodward Avenue, I took a lesser-known path to Milano Bakery that ushered me past the DMC (Detroit Medical Center), which is the great hospital in Detroit (in my opinion). One day, I will find a neat angle with which to photograph it. Until then, I put my path near its perimeter and gaze at it with a discriminating eye. 

St Antoine Street - A couple weeks back, I joked about the “Knowledge Is Power” phrase engraved into the Vermont marble on the edifice of the Detroit Public Library on Woodward Avenue (in light of the names on either side of the engraving). Well, I took a picture of that phrase at the library, and I saw it again at a school’s marquee, so I photographed it as well. I wonder if they put the phrase there for its own sake or as a nod to the Detroit Public Library (the library would not be a very long bus trip from the school, so perhaps the kids had just visited that same library [who knows?]). The diptych is on my “top ten” shots of the day. 

Mack Avenue 

Milano Bakery - Somehow, I arrived several minutes before Roy did. I used that edge in temporalness to walk up the long (on foot) parking lot to the end, where my security guard pal was parked and on patrol. I used the length of that walk to go back through my camera to find the three shots of the homeless man pitching at Comerica Park (the baseball stadium). We talked about this and that for a couple minutes, and then, I showed my friend the shots. At about that time, Roy pulled up and parked his red Mercedes convertible in the lot, and he walked up to the car to begin talking to the man as well, butting out my part of the conversation. The man is my elder, so I kept quiet and let him get out his complaints about life. He stopped a hair’s length from saying he wanted to off himself; he was in a mood. The security guard tried to paint a picture of rainbows and butterflies, stressing the good in life to instead focus on, but Roy brushed off his tenderness, doubling down on his assurance of his own awful life (and doing so in a dismissive, yet rattled, way). This should have portended a red flag in my mind, but I ignored the signal, focusing on the Roy I was used to dealing with (slightly less-acerbic than that [haha]). :—:— I showed Roy the future triptych of the homeless man chucking the sandwich at me, and he blew up at me in intense fury. We parted with the security guard and started walking in to the bakery. A few steps into our departure, a woman called out to us in the parking lot. She walked up to us and asked if we knew how to get to the pawn shop. Roy, wanting to be the know-it-all said he knew how to get there, but it was clear he was bloviating. Sensing the confusion, the security guard left this vehicle and walked up. “Do you mean Zimmerman’s?” the guard asked. “Yes! That’s the one!” the lady said. Roy butted in again, interrupting the security guard now that he had a place of reference. The guard was endlessly patient with this action, and he let Roy interrupt him again and again. Roy was determined to make himself useful as a power play. Haha. I just stood and watched in bemusement, hoping for a chance to give the guard some backup, should he get uncomfortable with the disrespect. The woman thanked the three of us (I just stood there and contributed nothing, but she was set in her heart to be universally generous), and we once more set out to span the lot to enter the bakery. :—:— Once inside, I plugged in my camera battery charger and my phone charger (in one outlet! [I use an Aluratech USB charger {sadly now discontinued} that leeches power from a plug to charge a device]). Set up and ready to go for a nice, long shoot-the-breeze conversation, I found myself dodging verbal volleys of invectives from a viper I thought was my “dear friend.” :—:— Roy used up the entire time at the bakery to hurl insults and accusations at me (all on account of the picture). He called the photo degrading. He called me disgraceful. And that is about the end of the non-explicit section of his tirade. I should have walked away, but Roy is my friend, and I wanted to get to the bottom of why he was so angry at me. I defended myself, yes, which likely sustained his wrath by giving him an opponent, but I did so in astonished pity for the man. His walls are tall and broad and thick and barbed at the edges—there was no getting through to the guy. I think of the pair of three-thousand-year-old proverbs “reprove a fool, and he will remit from his ways” and “do not reprove a fool, lest he attack you.” I think the contradictory advice from the same author is meant to say that you do not know how correction of another will result. You may be decimated by them, or you may, thankfully, get through to them. I took the chance that my friend was having a bad day (as he had begun the day exclaiming), and I went ahead in reproving him, as a friend. :—:— Maybe the biggest thing that kept me glued to my seat was the fact that I figured no one else would have stayed there through all the insults. To be a difference-maker, maybe one has to be different himself, so I set out to be the exception to his expected end (hoping all the while that I was not feeding abusive tendencies in his heart). :—:— Instead of walking away (I made the excuse in my mind that I wanted to let my camera battery charge yet longer), I finally told Roy, “You have made your point. There is nothing more that I need to hear from you,” and we both sat in profound silence for a long time. I checked the international headlines, reading several news articles as Roy stared through the window to the outside business in the city in his own outworking of quietude. :—:— I have been quoting proverbs from Proverbs in this write-up. The Bible is the greatest book of all time; I know that, because I went to a splendiferous school. It was small (including myself, there were fourteen kids in my graduating class), and it was strict (I joke it was like the movie “Footloose” [which I have never seen but loosely understand] for thirteen years), but it was very good. I credit it with any sort of brain function that goes on behind my babbling. Well, as Providence would have it, after many minutes of this silence, I heard, “Ryan?” Hahaha. Last week, I heard that from my pal, Devin. This week, I heard it from an alumna from my high school. I looked, and it was her and her mother, who was also our third-grade teacher. What a coincidence, and what timing! We got up and hugged and chatted for a hot second. It was a glorious reuniting, but I was uncomfortable because of what just happened with Roy. I kept wondering if they had heard our back and forth. I was embarrassed either way, because I did not go on to conquer the world, as many of my classmates have from our tiny but ambitious school. The two were doing well, and my schoolmate had had a son. I wish them the best. :—:— When we parted to return to our respective tables, I explained to Roy who the folks were, and I added, “Shall we make peace?” Roy stared at me, and I said, “You have said your peace, and there is nothing more to say.” He took this as a completionist’s challenge, and he proceeded to say racist things between curse words lobbed at me. Again, I thought about walking away, but this time it would have been in front of two people that knew me half of my present time on earth. Those folks knew me well. They knew me as a child. I grew up with them, and here I was, carousing (by the looks of it) with a thoroughly vulgar character. I probably do not respect myself enough (I do not respect myself enough). I stayed and faced the onslaught of evil from Roy’s lips. In retrospect, I should have left, but I made excuses and sat through the persecution needlessly. There should be a line in the sand in my heart. I should name my price in the beginning, dignity-wise. I had not considered my own honor enough when I let him continue without my exiting. I regret that. :—:— Roy was not interested in going to the oriental supermarket, suggesting the middle eastern one instead. I agreed, and I said goodbye to my old friends as I left. 

Dearborn Fresh Supermarket - We rode in Roy’s red Mercedes convertible to the grocery store in Dearborn. On the way, I thought about exiting the vehicle at every stop. I thought about never talking to the dude again. I have a huge heart, but that should (if being healthy with oneself) be balanced by a huge sense of self-worth, which I need to work on developing in these areas of personal intrusion (I had too many bad characters reinforce the weakness I still feel). We walked around a bit before sitting in the dining area in the back. Roy’s acid tongue was in full force. I will stop here in my description of the events with Roy. There was a lot said by the man that is far beyond publication for reasons not even hinted at thusfar. 

Greektown - Freedom! I was dropped off here, and I was on my own! I could breathe the polluted Detroit air in peace! 

Donald “Sunn” Anderson’s Street Art Stand 

David Bosco Willis’ Street Sax Spot - I asked my sax pal (with “three first names”) if he had gotten a rental saxophone to replace his broken one. He said no. He told me he had fixed the thing himself! :—:— In asking how he was able to repair the instrument, he decided to educate me in the origin of the saxophone. As he was explaining how Adolphe Sax invented it (hence the name) and how the mechanics of the instrument worked, a passerby finished his sentence! I laughed and exclaimed, “How many times does an expert walk by as you are having a conversation?” Continuing the lesson on the history of the saxophone, my pal David explained the history of the saxophone coming into its own and started being used as a more standout element in music. This was ten-seconds after the interruption, and a second man finished David’s sentence! I exclaimed once more, “This is amazing! Where are these people coming from? Band practice from their orchestra?” David and I laughed. The lesson continued. David was talking about his way of playing the saxophone, and then, a lady interrupted us, saying, “Why are you not playing your saxophone?” Then she turned to me and said, “It’s you! You are distracting him!” Hahaha. I laughed and apologized and said, “He will play his saxophone very soon!” Before parting, as David picked up and played his sax, I stayed a while longer, taking photos from many angles of Mr. Willis. One of those shots made this week’s “top ten.”

The Broadway (and Shoes) - That this place is closed is a sad thing. 

The Belt 

David Klein Gallery - Today was a three-o’clock final-day-of-the-exhibition gathering that including Andrew Kreiger, one of the three featured artists. I gave Mr. Kreiger my card and said hello to everyone. I thanked the nice folks that worked there for telling me about the street photography contest that they emailed me about over a week ago, and I added that I was having trouble picking my “top ten” (I always do ten, don’t I? Haha) for the contest. The gallery director told me I should go with my gut over what my friends suggested. I agreed. :—:— I am not the biggest schmoozer, so I left before the gathering kicked up. I would have sat in a corner otherwise the whole time awkwardly. I do not want to be a bump on a log nor a bother, but perhaps that can be remedied one day. I just need a better angle from which to approach these gatherings. 

Woodward Avenue (southwest side of street) 

The Hudson Site - I saw my hip-hop pal, “Shadow Klan” plying his trade to passersby. I exclaimed his name loudly, and we hugged. We chatted a bit, and I started photographing the man. I showed him the portrait and animated GIF that I took and made from seeing him last week. I said that I needed to get him in front of a more interesting backdrop to make an even better animated GIF. With that explanation received, he and I started looking for an interesting spot very near by to do this next GIF. We landed on being just in front of my favorite cafe in Detroit.  

Urban Bean Co. - This is my favorite cafe in Detroit. Mr. “Shadow Klan” and I worked off one another as we found a rhythm between the camera and the character. I got him in front of the park, and I stood still and low, letting him go in and out of camera and go in and out of focus. It was magical. I look forward to making more of these every time I see him. We could have enough content for a sweet music video one day! 

Campus Martius Park - Automatically interesting: a man with a goat in the middle of a major city. I have photographed this man before at DEMF 2018. I told him to send me a message to see his shots I took of him. I found it challenging to get the goat up close in focus manually focusing at f/2, and I was too stubborn to try for a narrower aperture. Haha. I failed to get an up-close shot of just the goat’s face, but I got a neat shot of a security guard (who explained that because he and his friends deemed him the Greatest Of All Time [G.O.A.T.], he had to stop and get a photo with the goat [”the G.O.A.T. with the goat”]). That shot is in my “top ten” as well. This serendipity made for a beautiful end to the day. It is good to end on a high note, and this seemed like mine!

Greektown 

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WHAT WENT ON ON THIS DAY OUT IN DETROIT?

I shot with a new (to me) lens, the Nikkor Ai-S 35mm f/2 (ca. 1982/3). This was a pleasure (mostly) to use. The sun flare is apparent, as is the barrel distortion. This lens is not absolutely perfect, but it is still lots of fun to use. I love the f/2 maximum aperture for its low-light chops and bokeh fall-off. It magnifies my photographic modus. :—:— I photographed a triptych of a homeless man throwing a sandwich in a sandwich bag at me. I did not get hurt. I left right after. The man was deranged. I think this triptych can live on, though. I see some power in the triple-image I took. We will see over time, I suppose. :—:— I had a bad time with my friend, Roy. He was a grumpy oaf. The move is just a stressful time for Roy, and I wanted to be the light I hope I am in his life. His life has lots of darkness, and there is more oxygen in the air for the guy when I am around I think. :—:— It is always noteworthy to bump into a noteworthy (diligently, quite-successfully-working) artist. Andrew Kreiger was making an appearance at the David Klein Gallery for the last day of an exhibit there that among two other internationally-recognized artists, had his own work on display there. I always ponder if there is anything different about them or everything different about them (or something in between) from the rest of folks. I take pictures; I do not make images or shapes from scratch. I cannot understand (at this point) the mindset to create like these folks do. Going to the gallery to think on this (I hope) helps. :—:— I saw a goat in the heart of Downtown Detroit. I have seen this goat before. Its owner went to DEMF in 2018, and I photographed him and his goat (I called the shot, “Millennial Bohemian,” because that is just what the man appears to be going for [probably without conscious effort]).     

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⋰B⋰U⋰Z⋰Z⋰W⋰O⋰R⋰D⋰S⋰

“Inside baseball” locations and concepts talked about in this Detroit Street Photography Session  —

●  Cotton Ball - This is my secret weapon on a cold day. A little piece torn off a cotton ball in each ear seems to keep my ears warmer and pain-free (provided I am also wearing a winter hat over the ears as well. I cannot recommend this enough. Yeah, it reduces my hearing, but I talk louder with them, so maybe I am heard better? Hahaha. I hope it is not obnoxious.  

●  RenCen - This is a nickname for the Renaissance Center (I would wager most Detroiters that know the presently-tallest building in Detroit’s name as this are also unable to spell the word “renaissance” without spellcheck or autocorrect aiding them). Then again, I just as much think most Millennials that know the current popular name of their own generation cannot spell the word “Millennial” without spellcheck or autocorrect aiding them. Is this more akin to a fish not knowing it is wet or to a bakeshop owner not knowing that the numbers on his toaster at home correspond to time (minutes) and not temperature?

●  Plum Market - I heard years ago that of all of America’s major cities, Detroit had the least rats and mice in it (New York had the most at the time). The explanation for this aside from how barren the city is of people (compared to most major cities) was that there were no, or only a couple, grocery stores in the city, thus greatly reducing the ready, year-round food supply for the rodents.   The Plum Market is an upscale grocer that just opened up on Woodward Avenue and East Larned Street in the heart of downtown across from the Spirit of Detroit Plaza (not far from Hart Plaza, which is where the city of Detroit itself was founded about three-hundred-and-eighteen years ago. I welcome the fresh produce. I shun the presumed coming influx of rats.

●  Ken Rockwell - This man is the paterfamilias of online lens (and camera) reviews. He is detailed and fair and personally experienced and knowledgable in the industry as well as the art of photography. For one such as myself that uses and seeks “new” (to me) old glass, his website is a constant companion to my journey with photography. Should he not outlive me, I will be sad the day his site ends its updates. No one else does what he does as well and honorably as he does it. Maybe right-brained folks (which are many of the creatives that do photography) are given to more drama than most, but I have never heard a bad word about this man. He is trustworthy. His body of work will be sought and sourced by amateurs (on up to professionals) for as long as the internet (and whatever else down the line arrives) exists, I predict. 

●  Wabi-sabi  - I despise woo-woo concepts. Taking the eastern mysticism angle out (which is there for those gullible-enough to even entertain it), this is the concept of finding beauty amidst (in fact on account of) imperfection.  

●  Sunstar - Imagine an adolescent’s crayon drawing of a diurnal outdoor scene in the summer with a clear sky. The sun would look (perhaps) like a yellow circle with an orange, jagged (saw blade-shaped) outline around its end. Minus the color, this is what a sunstar loosely resembles. So, yes, that was a pretty accurate drawing many kids (including yourself, possibly) produced after all (if you are looking at the sun through many stopped down lenses [not all produce this effect]). 

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✦ If you ever have any questions, feel free to email me. I am here for you. Email:  [email protected]

            .—.

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_.==.__.“”“”“.______n__

d __ _____.-’ ’-.  ________b

| [__]       /.”“”“.\ _  D800 |

|            // /” “\  \_)           |

|             \ \__/  //             |

| Nikon     `.__.’/               |

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`—————————’  

Experimental Chapter 3

Summary: Star and Marco are spending a peaceful afternoon resting until a certain blue somebody interrupts.

Link to prologue:  https://marleymaely1234.tumblr.com/post/163000561787/experimental-au-chapter-2

Begin Chapter:

Star rolled onto her side, tongue lolling lazily as she soaked in the sunlight. She and Marco had stumbled across a flat, rocky over hang, and it was a prime basking spot. Even Marco agreed that the sun felt divine here.

She watched a stray butterfly glide past her nose with half lidded eyes. She didn't even bother to playfully snap at it, too content in her current position. Marco was sprawled out besides her, paws twitching in his sleep.

Star shut her own eyes, fully intending to sleep herself. It wasn't often they found such a place and she intended to enjoy it as long as she could.

"Fascinating. He really managed to fuse the wand with a living being." A nasally voice cut through the air, jarring Star out of her near sleep. "The beastial forms are a different story though. Possibly a blood mixing, but then again, that only ever results in half-monster forms."

Star gave a low growl as she sat up, searching for the intruder. She paused in confusion when her eyes saw him though; he was tiny, and floating, and clearly not human. He had a gem in his forehead, kind of like her stone, except it was shaped different, and pink compared to her stone's golden color. His white beard stood out against his blue skin, as did the yellow robe he wore.

"Hello Star." The Being eyed her with indifferent curiosity. "Do you remember me?"

"Should I?" Star huffed, lowering her head so she could be eye to eye with him.

"Depends. Although it's been a long time since I've met someone able to create their own telepathic wavelength. It might be from the wand." The Being floated down and poked her stone before she could react. Star snapped at him and leapt away, growling. However, her eyes widened as she felt her stone give a low pulse.

"The wand still recognized me, that's a good sign." The Being said, unfazed as he floated closer again.

"Telepathy?" Star asked.

"Telepathy, communicating through the mental spectrum. Almost everyone simply piggybacks of a frequency that I made but you actually managed to create a unique frequency. It looks like you couldn't tell the difference though, which is interesting enough on its own." Star narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher any difference between what the Being had just said and how he had been talking before. Other than a change in pitch though, it sounded the same as before. So instead she chose to move past his words, turning her snout down towards her stone.

"Wand? You mean my stone?"

"Really? Is that what you call it? Not like it matters much to me." The Being shrugged.

"Wand." Star couldn't help but throw the word around more, happiness bubbling up in her stomach. Wand. She could see it, a star completely whole and shining with light. She had a wand. Somewhere, sometime, she had a wand. "Wand. I had a wand. I had a wand! A Wand! A Wand!"

A low growl stopped her, Marco had drawn himself up on his feet and was staring at the blue being with open hostility.

"Ah, Marco, nice of you to join us." The Being greeted, nonchalant even as the smoke began to wisp its way out of Marco's mouth

"What do you want with us? And how do you know my name?" Marco growled again, a puff of smoke following the sound.

"Take it down, would you? I just want to talk." The Being floated closer to Marco, although Star noticed it did stay out of Marco's reach.

"You didn't answer the second question. How do you know my name?" Marco prowled over to stand between Star and the Being.

"Fine kid, I was sent here to see you two, okay? I knew you two for a while, before whatever happened to you." The smoke abruptly stopped, Marco staring at the Being with open shock.

"You knew us?" Star rushed past Marco, pushing her nose as close as she could to the Being. "How? What were we like? Who are you? Were we friends? Marco, can you believe it? We finally found someone!"

"Slow down. I-" The Being sighed, a loose sort of sadness settled over his features. "-I didn't know you that well. Except that you were a girl, and he was a boy."

"That's easy." Star snorted, shifting to hold her hands out for the being to see. "See?"

"Would you look at that." The Being paused, looking surprised.

"It's not that surprising, we're human too." Marco said, walking to stand next to Star. Star was staring in him in utter disbelief. "What? He doesn't seem that bad. If he wanted to do something he would have already done it."

"But still. This is good!" Star flashed Marco a blinding smile before turning back to the Being. "Anything else you remember?"

"Not much." The Being said, his voice short and clipped.

"How helpful." Marco snapped, eyebrows raised.

"Marco." Star hissed, giving him a reprimanding shove. "He doesn't mean that. You've been plenty helpful. Now I know I had a wand."

"You had a wand?" Marco asked.

"Oh! I didn't tell you, but yeah, I had a wand!" Star's hands were a blur of motion, only slowing as she turned Marco towards her to point to his stone. "Our stones, they were parts of the wand! I remember that now. Can you believe it?"

"I can-" Marco paused, a smile slowly blossoming on his face. "I can see it Star. I know what you're talking about. I can see it! I can remember it!" Breathless, he whispered. "This is incredible."

"I know! And its all thanks to-" Star pointed to where the Being had been floating a few moments before, except, there was nothing there. "Where'd he go?"

Shifting back, Marco sniffed the air, rumbling, "I can't smell him, but it looks like he used magic."

"Dangit, I wanted to talk to him more." Star sighed, shifting back to lay her head in her paws.

"So did I." Marco laid beside her. "Even if he was keeping things from us."

"You actually want to talk to someone who isn't me?" Star teased, as Marco rolled his eyes. "You're all grown up."

"He didn't seem untrustworthy, even if he was annoying."

"He wasn't that bad." Star retorted before guiltily mumbling. "But his voice was kinda getting on my nerves."

Marco snorted, a guttural, but heartfelt laugh emerging from his chest. Star tried to keep her face straight, and lasted all of five seconds before she broke down into her own throaty laughter.

"My queen." Glossaryck greeted as he appeared beside her. Sitting in her chambers, Moon had been staring out at the afternoon sun, trying in vain to keep her gaze away from the green of the outer forest that she could clearly see.

"Glossaryck! How many times have I asked you to please not do that." Moon snapped back, willing her racing heart to slow.

"Ever since you were Star's age." Glossaryck responded, noting how Moon's expression turned dark.

"What did you find?" Moon asked, standing up stand in front of Glossaryck, who floated at eye height.

"They didn't attack me for one. Although that might have been enjoyable, it's been a few centuries since someone dared attack me. They don't seem to remember much though; Star didn't even know what the wand was until I told her." Glossaryck shrugged, eyeing Moon carefully.

"Did you tell her? About who she was, and how they got be whatever they are." Moon asked her voice dangerously close to sounding desperate. If only her subjects could see her now. The part of her that was still positive gave a laugh at that, but was drowned out by the panic that was building as Glossaryck paused. "You did, right?"

"Listen," Glossaryck sighed. "Telling her won't bring back her memories, not in full. It would probably just scare both of them off."

"You didn't tell her!" Moon shouted, puling her face into her hands. "You didn't tell her."

"They won't trust it, especially not Marco." Glossaryck shot back. "My Queen, do you really think it's going to be that easy? We only have the faintest clue what he did to them."

"Can't I hope!? Is that not allowed?" Moon screamed, taking a step towards Glossaryck.

"I'm sorry my Queen, I really am, but you must let them come back on their own." Glossaryck, put one of his hands on Moon's hand, offering a small smile.

"I just, every time I think that she's out there, fighting every day, and that- that monster is still out there looking for her. I can't stand it." Moon walked past Glossaryck, shoving the chamber doors open as she stormed down the hall.

"Still though, its quite incredible what he's accomplished. They're both strong enough to create their own telepathic wavelength, not to mention most their magic is done unconsciously, without a spell. Even the fact that they can shift like that is something I've never seen. Frankly, its incredible. But of course, that's getting rid of the emotional side of things." Glossaryck trailed behind Moon, thoroughly enjoying how any castle staff they ran across swiftly got out of the Queen's way.

"What more do you want Glossaryck?" Moon rounded on him, stopping her furious march.

"To ask if you want me to visit them again." Glossaryck replied calmly. "And to tell you that both of them are perfectly healthy and safe. Not much can conquer them."

"He can." Moon growled, but then her stance dropped, and she sighed. "Thank you, Glossaryck. Don't bother to visit them again. You are free to return to the book. I have an important meeting to attend to."

When Moon started to walk away, Glossaryck stayed where he was, calling out. "It wouldn't happen to be with the high commission, would it?"

Moon didn't answer, disappearing around the nearest corner. Glossaryck thought about chasing after her, but decided it would be a waste of time. He learned long ago that humans rarely listened to good advice the first time it was given to them. This was something his Queen was going to have to learn on her own.