#always reminded of this during events like that story later with the gold and silver horn brothers where they keep desperately throwing

[cave-monkey]

Favorite thing from the books that I bring up anytime I get the opportunity:

The mountain the Buddha dropped on Sun Wukong wasn't enough to actually contain him. The seal had to be added later because Sun Wukong was clawing his way out.

[sparkbeast20]

Info about my MC (Tia) for What in "Hell" is Bad?

Reminder: This for a game (WHB) that is rated 18+

Minors DNI

Name: Tia Simbulan

Age: 25

Sex: Female

Birthday: August 16

Height: 150cm/4'11

Color: Light Blue and Yellow

Philia: Teratophilia

Item/Artifact: A black feather

Note: Tia is fine sleeping with other devils, with this list she has a closest too.

Lover(s): Glasyalabolas, Ronove, Mammon, Satan, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belial, Dantalian, Buer, and (Michael and Raphael)

Gifts/Accessories from them: Noose that she turn it to her belt (From Glasya), Chest harness (From Ronove), Her Phone (From Satan), Tartaros Ai bot keychain (From Mammon), Choker (From Buer), Pen (From Dantalian), Notepad (From Belial) and Gold and Silver bracelet (From Michael and Raphael)

A bit about her:

Before the incident, Tia was a happy go lucky girl who was tomboyish but loves cute things like plush and animals.

But all that change when the incident happened her parents was killed. That's when she became more timid and shy. She only feels conformable talking to Minhyeok and hide behind him when she gets overwhelmed by things.

It took Minhyeok to use his charm to help her get a job with their local vet.

Tia does watch porn, but after she does. She feels awful cause she feels like she should be this sexual. She always hates that she like danger, or more so, like the idea of thrill. (This may due to that fact she saw her parents that day.)

Current now:

Now, in hell after adjusting she is more open though with the devils she is close to.

Tia often is bubbly and cheerful with Satan, Mammon, Buer and Ronove. And she plays cute and innocent with Glasyalabolas, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Michael, and Dantalian often a way to tease them. She loves the thrill and get all excited with rush of her life threaten. She does know to show it when need it.

Before: This was when she lost her parents, and she wasn't responsive at the police station.

After: This is during her time in hell when walking about the main town of Hades.

WHB lines based on the game: Common lines and Lobby lines

Dark desire:

Tia's dark desire stem from feeling that she isn't her own person, and that she let people tell what to say and when she does have a opinion, she get's shut down immediately. And this gravely affected her self-confidence and self-esteem.

Some people call her useless and a waste of space... She might not show it. But she believes them. Hence she feels that it's only right for her is to be useful to others... In anyway possible.

Thus, she feels trap by chains and let people… touch her. It got better due time, but she has this desire to let her lovers do what whatever they want to her… even if they break her, physically and mentally.

However, her lovers knows this and doesn't let her push herself to the edge or what they called it. "Her point of no return"

How her Dynamic is with her lover(s)

Glasyalabolas: She wasn't expecting to like him with how his personality is, let alone fell hard for him. Trouble seem to follow Tia which caught Glasya's eye and the two start to develop their feelings towards each other.

Ronove: [Save for later, since he hasn't appear in any story aside from Dantalian's Comic]

Mammon: After the event of Chapter 2, Mammon finds Tia getting flustered whenever he refers to her as his master. Mammon was devil she needed, and that he'll praise her and make her believe that she is loved... He'll make sure of that.

Satan: He does love it when Tia is being open and freely of her wants and desire, however he does know at times. He has to pull her back when she starts to lose herself.

Leviathan: He always feels jealous of Tia's love towards other devils, but when these two are alone, even if he doesn't voice it. He does enjoy they're time together. And he was a bit proud that he was the one who awake Tia's choke kink.

Beelzebub: He loves to tease her, he loves to push her to the edge that she'll ruin him in ways that he wants. But in the end of the day, they're quiet moments in bed after sex are one of his favorite. Cause he can hold her in his arms even for those moments. He wish it can be like this as always... But he knows that he always have to leave.

The rest will be added when I meet them in game. And with Belial, I have to figure out Tia's dynamic with him for now.

Sexual desire:

Tia likes it rough, and dangerous. Which Ronove, Satan, Dantalian, Beelzebub, and Glasyalabolas can prove.

She also loves soft, slow, and gentle sex. Which Mammon, Belial, Buer and Ronove can prove.

Her favorite rare activity is Primal play.

She also likes roleplaying.

Art of my MC (Both are drawn by my friend Toki ^3^) And by @/hanbanart from twt, @/yuuka29 from tumblr

[kataang-week]

Special thanks to Mod Atarah ( @penguinsledder​ ) and @coyotelemon from the Kataang Awards for the banner!

This year we would like to announce a special event that will be happening during Kataang Week 2022. Kataang Week is collaborating with Kataang Awards ( @kataang-writers-awards )!

As a reminder, Kataang Week 2022 is from Monday, July 25th to Monday, August 1st. For prompts, rules, and information, please see our main Kataang Week 2022 post here.

What are the Kataang Awards?

Kataang Awards (or Kataang Writer's Awards) is an annual event where the best Kataang stories from the previous year are nominated and voted upon to win awards in a number of categories.

Who can participate?

Everyone with complete entries by the end of the last day of Kataang Week 2022 (Monday, August 1st) is automatically entered. Though the Kataang Writer's Awards usually are geared to just authors, for Kataang Week 2022, the awards will also include participants who have created fanart and/or edits like gif sets, photosets, music, and AMVs.

The Kataang Awards blog ( @kataang-writers-awards ) will keep track of participants on their page.

If you would not like to participate in the awards, please send an ask to @kataang-writers-awards and we will pull you from the running.

How will this work?

Voting for the Kataang Week 2022 Awards will open starting on the last day of Kataang Week 2022 and end 2 weeks later. Those dates are from Tuesday, August 2nd to Tuesday, August 16th.

Voters will choose the top 3 entries they like for each category. Votes will be tallied at the end and announced separately.

Winners will be announced on August 17th on Tumblr and on Kataang Discords. No live ceremony will take place.

What if I didn't complete anything before August 2nd?

Unfortunately, if one or more of your entries are not completed by then, they will not be entered. However, if you have multiple entries completed or at least one completed, they will be entered.

Kataang Week will still be accepting late entries for Kataang Week 2022 until the next event as we always have, but those will simply not be entered into the Kataang Week 2022 Awards running. So, feel free to keep creating!

What are the categories?

There are 2 categories: fanfiction and fanart/edits. Edits include gif sets, photosets, music, AMVs, and anything related.

Categories will not be split by genre.

What can I win?

For each category, there will be 3 "medals" to win including bronze, silver, and gold. Three entries will win in the fanfiction category and three entries will win in the fanart/edits category.

Winners will each receive a custom icon via DM created by @coyotelemon.

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, don’t hesitate to send an ask. Don’t forget to reblog this as well to help spread the word!

Happy creating, Kataangers!

- The Mods

[lastwagontrainhopper]

A guiding hand

Royai week day 2 - Serene (let’s collectively ignore how late I am posting this ok thaaaanks)

Summary:   “She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke again, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ” ”

---

The Colonel and his Lieutenant share a late-night conversation. (Blind!Roy)

Words: 2489 

Tags: Blind Roy Mustang, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant

read on aot

“They had left their windows wide open, letting in a soft breeze to relieve them from the heavy summer heat. The curtains were rising and falling without a sound, fluttering in the air like ghosts. Even the streets around the house were quiet at that hour; the only thing that broke the stillness of the night was Riza's voice.

"As for Senator Harn's wife, she was wearing a very elegant apricot-colored dress. With her signature high hairdo, of course.”

Their blankets had long been kicked away to the bottom of the bed in a messy pile. Roy was lying on his back, facing to the ceiling, one hand playing idly with a lock of Riza's hair.

"Apricot?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's the yellow with a touch of pink, right?”

"That was pretty much it, yes." Riza was lying on her side, her head against her hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. The room was covered in shadows, but the flickering lights from the window on the street allowed her to see the outline of Roy's face.

"And you said Harn had a royal blue jacket...That must have made for an odd contrast.”

Riza smirked. "Yes, that's what several people seemed to think. It looked as if the General and his wife had not consulted with one another before coming to the gala.”

A sly smile spread across Roy’s face. "Ha! And you just know the rumors about their marriage are already flying high. It's sort of ironic, considering how Harn is constantly babbling to the Parliament about the “traditional family” and the “sanctity of marriage” and whatnot." His hand came to lightly circle Riza's wrist, his thumb tapping the back of her hand. "I’m sure you now understand how crucial fashion is in Central. It's not just a matter of taste: it's inherently political.”

"Sure," she answered, unconvinced. "Anyway. The Harns didn't capture the guests' attention that long, since the buffet was brought shortly after.”

Roy hummed appreciated. "And that was a good one. I've rarely tasted crab this delicious.”

"Yes, and they must have put as much effort into the presentation as in the cooking, because the set-up was magnificent. Everything was served on glittering silver plates, which reflected the glow of the chandeliers. On each table, the dishes were arranged in a sort of pyramid, culminating with the piece of meat or seafood. It looked extremely fragile, like...like some sort of house of cards, or crystal architecture, defying gravity - but they all stood the evening without crashing down. It was breathtaking.”

This had become the most constant part of their day. Almost every night, as they lay in bed before going to sleep, Riza would describe to Roy a long list of the things he hadn’t been able to see during the day. When they had first started this habit, as they were working on the the reconstruction of Ishval, Riza's descriptions had been much more pragmatic, like a mission report: which building seemed in need of repair? Which tribal leader looked unsatisfied during their morning meeting? She did her best to give him this information as the day went by, but there were always important details that she missed.

As the years had passed and the two had distanced themselves from the military, Riza's description had slowly become more lyrical. She began to tell him about beautiful sights that he was missing – a particularly colorful sunset, or the way the city lights looked at night. As time went by, she started to enjoy these conversations and more more, and they became increasingly long. It got to the point where, as Riza saw something pretty during the day, she found herself immediately thinking of the way she would describe it to Roy later at night.

"You should try to write a book," he had told her once. "You're so good at this - I can picture in my mind everything that you're telling me about like I was seeing it."

"It wouldn't be the same," she had answered, shaking her head. "I like hearing your reactions."

He had arched his eyebrows, smirking. "And yet you scold me every time I interrupt you.”

"Stop being overdramatic,” she had retorted. “Now let me continue." They had left it at that.

Sometimes Riza would rest her head on his chest as she went on with her stories. This was what Roy preferred.  Ever since losing his eyesight, he had grown much fonder of physical contact, even casual, with her - after all, it was the surest way he could know that she was by his side. But Riza liked to remain slightly further, just next to him, so that she would be able to observe him during their late-night conversation. His face would take on such a special expression at those times, almost peaceful, or...serene.

Serene. That would have been the last word anyone would have chosen to describe Roy under normal circumstances. Despite his reputation as a slacker, he was a man that was constantly busy thinking about one thing or another, pondering, planning his next ploy – or his next date with a certain Lieutenant. His eyes in particular had always betrayed the constant working of his mind: they were restless, always darting around the room to study the people they were talking to, noticing details in their postures, noting suspicious movements out of the corner of his eye.

And, Riza knew it well, even the moments of rest didn’t bring Roy much serenity. More often than not, his sleep was plagued by violent nightmares that would wake him screaming in the middle of the night - or at least, that tensed and distorted his expression as he slept.

This had not changed since the Promised Day. But since Roy’s fight in the underground of Central, his blind eyes had lost their piercing look and had taken on a milky appearance. In the first few weeks, Riza had hated meeting that blank stare - it reminded her too much of what his eyes used to look like, as well as symbolizing her failure as a bodyguard.

But eventually, she had come to see a certain beauty in them, and in the calmness they brought to Roy's expression. He was still as expressive as ever, with his trademark crooked smile and taunting eyebrows. But in the evening, when they were alone together, his face truly relaxed. As Riza described the day's events to him, he would focus entirely on her voice, letting his mind recreate the image she was painting. His eyebrows would loosen and his forehead became smooth, free of its usual furrow; his mouth would fall half-open. At this particular moment, Roy took on a serene expression that Riza had never seen on him before, and she never got tired of looking at it.

"I need to tell you, unfortunately," Riza broke the silence that had settled, "that you were not the best-dressed man at the reception.”

Roy propped himself up on his elbows, frowning with surprise. So much for serenity.

"What? Who was?”

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Riza said, trying to hide the small smile in her voice. "But Colonel Birks made quite an impression. He wore a rather daring suit, made of a black  fabric from which red velvet patterns stood out.”

Roy huffed with indignation. "Velvet! Nonsense. He obviously can’t stop pushing the boundaries of extravagance – and of bad taste.”

"I don't know," Riza said evasively. “I thought it was pretty elegant…and I wasn't the only one.”

Roy ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Outdressing the president should be considered insubordination," he muttered under his breath. "I'll call Ms. Zhao tomorrow. I need something more avant-garde for the next gala. Maybe with some silk mixed in with a cotton suit?”

He lay down again on the bed and raised his arm, inviting her to come closer. Riza moved to nestle up against him, putting her head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest. Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Whenever he did that, his breaths would tickle Riza's neck, making her giggle; she would always pretend to be annoyed but it, but they both knew better.

After a moment, Roy tucked some of her hair away from her face. He brought his lips close to her ear. "Tell me again what you were wearing."

Riza felt a shiver go down her spine. That deep voice that Roy used when he whispered always got a reaction out of her, no matter what cliché or silly thing he would say.

A wry smile crossed her lips. "At this point, you know my wardrobe better than I do, Roy. ”

"I know," he answered, unabashed. "But I like hearing you describe it."

Riza chuckled. “Well,” she began, “I was wearing the flowy emerald green skirt that Rebecca got me for Christmas, a brown leather belt, and my white blouse. The one with the embroidery on the collar. ”

He hummed in appreciation. "With your golden high heels, I'm guessing."

"With my golden high heels," she nodded, "because even though my feet are killing by the end of the night when I wear them, they do really go well with that skirt." Her hand started to play with the ring that Roy wore as a necklace. "I didn't put much makeup on because of how humid the weather was. But I did wear my bright red lipstick."

She felt his cheeky smile even before he spoke. "I can recognize it by taste, now."

If they weren’t pressed so close together, she would have dug her elbow into his ribs. She rolled her eyes instead. "I also had my gold bracelet to go with the shoes, and the earrings you bought me to complete it all. What else...my hair was in a bun, and, of course, I had my necklace."

She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or a joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ”

Riza felt her smile drop. A lump appeared in her throat. Roy rarely complained about his blindness; even in the months following the Promised Day, he had adapted to his new lifestyle with impressive resilience. At first, it seemed as if his disability had affected his Lieutenant, plagued by guilt, more than himself. Still, Riza knew that he must have carried a lot of silent regrets through the years. There was so much Roy had had to give up, so many compromises he had had to reluctantly accept on his plan to reform Amestris – and on his personal life.

Riza disentangled herself gently from his grasp and straighten up, half sitting, to observe him. One of his arms was folded under his head, and he still seemed to be looking at the ceiling - but of course, that was just an impression. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing them away from his face. He smiled slightly at her touch, but she didn't need to see the pupils of his eyes to know that his heart wasn't in it.

She didn't like seeing him like this. With thoses cloudy eyes, melancholy turned his serene expression into a confused one - like he was a child that got lost and couldn't look for his way home.

Riza laid down again and rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward Roy. She started to gently stroke his arm. "At least, you can keep in your mind the image of what I – and you – looked like in the prime of our youth," she said after a moment in a playful tone, trying to comfort him. "You won't need to see us get all old and wrinkled.”

To her surprise, Roy's face saddened further.

"Don't say that. Beautiful women are like fine wine, they only get better with age - that's what Chris used to say. I always wanted to see how you would look as you grew old.”

Riza raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" she answered in spite of herself.

He nodded. "Not everyone ages gracefully, of course. But I know that wrinkles would look flattering on you; you have such elegant features. And silvery hair never fails to give this distinguished look - at least on women," he added, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do I already have grey hair?"

Riza felt her shoulders relax. "You're almost completely bald by now, Roy."

He winced. "Please don't joke with that. I don't know what I would do if this were to happen.

Riza simply smiled, and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She watched Roy’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, lulled by the calm rhythm.

"You know, I always wished I could see you grow old, also because it would have meant that we made it."

Riza felt her breath catch in her throat.

She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, hoping her touch could tell him what her words couldn’t.

“We did make it, Roy.” Now of all time, she wished he could see her face.

"I know," he said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. "I know."

Riza propped herself up on her elbow. She close her fingers around his, and squeezed firmly.

"Listen. We'll just do like with everything else. When my hair turns grey, I'll describe it to you. And as for the wrinkles," she placed his hand on her face, "you can see that for yourself."

Roy made a small smile. For the first time, he turned to face her, placing the tip of his fingers on both sides of her face. That was something he never tired of doing. Before he had lost his sight, he had always been able to read her like a book, understanding the meaning behind even the most subtle of her facial expressions. Now, he could do it in a much more literal sense, by tracing the surface of her body, reading the lines on her skin as if they were words written in braille.

"And when my face is so wrinkled it's unrecognizable,” she continued, "you will know the story behind each one of them.” She injected a smile into her voice. “The ones I already have on my forehead, for example, come from the stress of having spent so many years asking you to do your paperwork.”

His fingers brushed her forehead, and he smiled, abashed. "And you're all the more beautiful for it, my dear." He reached toward her and, guided by his hands, placed a light kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to see the rest.” ”

[well-lets-go-write]

A grand ol’ time

Part 1 

Rated: SFW - language 

Word count:  4061 

Hope ya enjoy. 

(Y/N) an SOA for the BSAA has recently returned home from a grueling extensive mission in the jungles of South America. The mission was routine and went smoothly with no casualties, something rare for the BSAA. Her partner and long time friend Joseph were stuck in the office going over each individual report from the mission and compiling them for the derector, the night dragged on late into the early hours of the morning. Both Y/n and Joseph had called it a night when the motion sensitive lights flickered off for the umpteenth time, reminding them of the late hours and lack of people. Joseph left first after some convincing, tiredly trudging out to the elevator. Y/n let a long almost roaring yawn roll out with a large stretch before standing from her desk. Grabbing up the loose paperwork and scattered files, neatly stacking them together and tucking them under her arm Y/n turns on her heel and swiftly grabs up her overly large ‘purse’ before heading for the elevator at the end of the corridor. 

       Y/n had decided to head not to her apartment downtown, almost an hour drive away, but to the small spare apartment at the top floor of the BASS headquarters. There only to remind Y/n that she, like many others, is permanently married to her work. During the slow elevator ride up Y/n pondered giving up her apartment for living here, it would make things easier on her when she does get off time, but she quickly reminded herself of why she stopped using the spare apartment, her mind wandering back to him. Violently she shook her head of the thoughts, forcing them back for another time. Luckily the elevator came to a stop snapping Y/n of her self induced trance. The hall was dimly lit with small light fixtures mounted in between the other apartment doors. Y/n sighed again, the sight an all too familiar one, a reminder of better times from years past, but now a reminder of her endless loneliness. 

Huffing in tired frustration Y/n made her way down the hall to the welcoming red door to her apartment. Rifling through her purse Y/n found her large obnoxious key ring, noting the amount had become ridiculous. It took her a good minute to locate the correct key for the door and deadbolt, a small gold key with the number 86 engraved into the grip, she examined it for a moment, running her calloused thumb over the number a few times, fondly remembering the day she got it, her eyes drifting to the matching key still hanging on the ring, a slightly larger key, silver with the letters C.R engraved into the metal. Another sigh forces its way out at the sight of it in her hand, knowing it shouldn’t be with her. A low growl leaves Y/n lips as she roughly jams the key into the locks and throws the door open, the force sending it into the wall with a slam. Y/n didn’t flinch as the sound echoed through the small apartment and out into the hall, instead welcoming the intrusive noise, welcoming anything really. With her foot she clumsily kicks her leg to close the door with another loud slam, almost falling to the floor in the same instant. Catching herself at the last moment on her brown leather recliner, doubling over the back into the seat of the cushion face first, her legs swinging over from the momentum flipping her out of the chair onto the floor. 

“Yep.” Y/n commented aloud to herself with an extra popping of the ‘p’ before standing back up in front of her recliner. Y/n threw her purse onto the small loveseat across from her and the files down on the oak coffee table. The small sounds of her moving about her apartment filled the area with almost obnoxious echoes, the silence that clung to her was deafening, irritating her to her core. Y/n shook her head of the thought and moved to her bedroom, pulling out years old pajamas she’d forgotten she owned and headed for the adjoining bathroom.

The hot steaming water washed away her worries and frustrations, Y/n was finally able to let her muscles relax and sink into the water. She didn’t linger in the bath however, opting to get into bed as fast as she could. Lying there for hours staring up at the cracking popcorn ceiling, the desire to sleep gripped her mind, but the pent up energy was reaching its peak, now forcing her to stay awake. There in the dark of her bedroom, in the middle of the night she hears the smallest kock on her front door, a peculiar time for visitors was her first thought. If it had been any kind of adversary they wouldn’t have been so kind as to knock first. 

Tired and sluggish Y/n stumble to the door, nearly tripping over the corner of the coffee table on her way. But outside the door was no one and nothing, nothing except a small green envelope with fancy raised gold letter reading her name. Stranger yet there was no evidence other than the envelope that anyone had been in the hall. Peaking out of the door she saw that there were no other envelopes left and the elevator was shut, along with the single door to the stairway. Locking every lock on the door Y/n flops down onto the obnoxiously large loveseat and examines the letter thoroughly before reading it. But there was nothing too strange about it. The letter read simply, 

Dear Y/n,

You have been invited to the masquerade ball of the century. Please do join us for a night of anonymous celebration. 

Rules. You must wear the colors given. No taking your mask off. Attendance is required. 

We do hope you have fun. Please be prepared the night of June 25th.  

Y/n initially paid no mind to the letter, believing it was nothing more than another prank. But her suspicions were quickly swayed by Joseph the next afternoon. 

-------

Outside the cafeteria Y/n walked alongside Joseph down the many halls to their shared office. Y/n explaining the previous night's events, but her partner was quiet the whole way, this fact confused and frustrated her. “Why aren't you saying anything?” Frustrated, she roughly pulls the envelope and letter from her bag, the small parchment becoming even more folded and scrunched up in Y/n fist. “I have proof see.” Y/n barely got the sentence out before Joseph grabbed her wrists and the letter and pulled them into their office, Joseph gesturing to be quiet the whole time. 

Nearly slamming the door shut Joseph throws his things onto his desk before retrieving an identical envelope and letter from inside his briefcase. The only difference was the name and color of the envelope, Joseph’s was an off navy blue with silver lettering. Y/n examined the letter the same as she did hers, and it was identical. 

“What the fuck dose it mean ‘attendance is required’? Under the authority of who?” Y/n questioned. Her annoyance at the situation was growing. Joseph sat beside Y/n on the small office couch, a look of contemplation and pleading overtook him. 

“Look it’s a weird thing the financial backers like to put on every few years, it’s mandatory that the invited SOA’s, Captines, and their lieutenants attend.” Joseph paused to survey the room a moment then whisper, “Technically we’re not supposed to be sharing this information.” The severity of the situation finally dawned on Y/n. She could only nod in response. 

“What’s with the whole color thing?” She whispered out, her face contorted in confusion. Joseph looked over Y/n’s envelope. 

“Easy, green and gold. Go with a green dress, the mask they provide will probably be gold.” Joseph explained while gesturing to his own envelope, "I'll be in some kind of blue and silver." Y/n though frustrated understood, but was more annoyed that from this point on they couldn't talk about it, the 25th nearing in only two days. 

----------

Y/n during the evening had slipped out of the BSAA's perimeter and into the city. At first she was shocked by the changes the metropolis had undergone. Y/n was lost in the world of light. But eventually she found a small clothing store with beautiful red, black,and pink dresses on display that pulled her in. Y/n found a simple yet elegant emerald green dress with an evenest green lace wrapped deletitly around the bodice, the skirt was long loose and wavy. A simple guarantee she'd be able to move freely. Y/n stored the dress in a long black clothing bag before rushing back to the BSAA. She tried it on only once, and in spite of how she felt about this event, she felt pretty. 

---------

When the night arrived Y/n felt nervous. Of what, she wasn’t sure, she knew she could always find Joseph, but it was something else, in her youth Y/n had never really participated in the norms of teens, so this is new territory. As she sat on the loveseat in her small apartment waiting for some mysterious weirdos to escort her to the ‘fundraiser’ she all but wished to be suddenly thrown into the middle of a war zone. But here she sat, dolled up to the best of her abilities and dressed to the nines waiting. Another surprise were the men who picked her up, dressed in well tailored tuxedos and full face covering white mouthless masks. Before she took a signal step out the door they handed her a beautiful white mask with gold trim and white gold jewels. Y/n got the hint and secured the mask before they left for the secret hall. The windows of the van they rode in were blacked out, and she was the only other in the vehicle with them. If she had not been reassured this was the norm, things would have gone very differently. 

25 minutes later they had arrived at an underground parking garage, from there she was led to an elevator, a short ride later and Y/n was standing before a grand ballroom suited for royalty. The hall itself was at least four stories high, pillars supporting the ceiling were lined with lavish gold, chandeliers hanging to match the beauty of polished white marble and glittering gold. It was stunning. The hall was filled with attendees, beautiful dresses swaying together on the dance floor, groups of men huddling together in the far corners while the younger agents enjoyed the event with glasses in hand. The festivities were in full swing and Y/n had never felt more out of place, everything about this atmosphere was forigne to her. Hesitantly Y/n moved over to one of the pillars and watched on in awe at the pure, anonymous joy the countless others were partaking in. Many paired off couples were dancing rymithly to the somewhat dated music. Y/n was in a way envyus of their uncaring amusement. Finally able to gather her thoughts Y/n began to search the clumps of groups for Joseph.

But so far there was no sign of him, blue or silver were the only two words running through Y/n mind. When out of the corner of her eye the smallest reflection, a glint of chrome shining in the light caught her eye. To her left stood a broad shouldered man, tall weaning a navy blue suit, a dark metallic gray tie and an almost mirroring shining silver mask with a deep velvet blue trim. Y/n wasn’t positive if he was in fact Joseph, but all the identifiers they had discussed lined up with the man before her. Who was now eyeing Y/n with a matching smirk. 

“Something wrong with my suit?” He asked Y/n while also successfully gaining her attention. Y/n couldn’t pinpoint his voice, but she was oddly calmed by it. 

A bit flustered Y/n rushed out, “No. Not at all, y-you look good is what I mean.” If it wasn’t obvious before that Y/n was out of practice in social gatherings, it was now. The gentleman laughed a warm low laugh, his covered face lighting up, a smile growing over his lips. 

“Thank you.” The man in blue stated first. “You look pretty good too.” He commented seconds after, sliding the flirtatious compliment in smoothly. Y/n thought her knees were going to buckle at the man's pleasant remark. She was able to stable herself on a small champagne table, but she overestimated her own weight and fell forward into the man's arms. Who gladly caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist and the other stabilizing her by the shoulder. "Fallin` for me already?" The man in blue asked coolie. Y/n was now a flustered mess, all the while still held securely in the looming man's arms. 

She all but jumped from the man's hold, wiggling away, but not far. "Sorry about that, lost my footing there." She rushed out in a signal breath. Y/n was now searching for another distraction from this situation, but for some unknown reason she didn't want to leave this man in blue's side, she enjoyed talking to him. In spite of herself  she commented, "Ya know this sorta thing ain't really my scene but I do see why some people would enjoy it." Y/n admitted, almost immediately regretting it.

But the man’s welcoming warm smile never faltered. “I’m right there with ya, especially with dancing.” He then admitted. The man scrunched up his nose causing the mask to shift up ever so slightly before awkwardly chuckling out, “But- uh, what is your scene then?” The question was innocent, but now it was his turn to be tongue tied. Y/n was at a loss for words, forgetting what she even did during her rare off time.

"Oh nothing special, I enjoy astronomy, especially violet stars and exoplanets. Actually they've made a recent discovery of an extraordinary exoplanet, it's very angelic in appearance." Y/n was now on a rumbling spree, space and the stars captured her soul years ago, and something about this man in blue caused her to feel so carefree, able to speak her mind, to imagine. "I sometimes dream of seeing them for myself." She commented finally. 

The man in blue couldn't and didn't take his eyes off of her, even with her face hidden behind the doll-like mask he could see the passion and joy light up her whole being. In that small moment he could see her, smiling staring up into space, seeing things he could never imagine. But for him her eyes held the universe. Turning abruptly the man grabbed up two glasses of champagne, handing one to Y/n and sipping off the other. Y/n was apprehensive but gladly drank the single glass of champagne. Feeling the tension slowly dissipate, Y/n loosened up enough to keep her anxieties at bay. But the silver masked man interjected  "I know someone else who also loves space. She used to tell me all about the celestial bodies." The man spoke fondly of this person, his eyes lighting up with a far off passionate memory.

"What happened to her?" Y/n asked assuming this woman was or had been lost during a past mission. But the man dispelled the thought with a wave of his hand.

"Nothing tragic." He paused, becoming lost in another memory, "I fucked up any relationship I might’ve had with her." He explained simply. 

Y/n understood. simple mistakes imploding years old relationships. Hesitantly she placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "People are far more forgiving then you're letting yourself believe." He smiled at the thought.

"Sounds like something she would have said, but the thing is, I agree with her." The man paused and a far off lock overcame him, "I don't deserve to be forgiven" His demeanor changed, becoming curt about the topic. Suddenly becoming solum and detached. But Y/n wasn't accepting that. Grabbing his hand with her own, pulling him down to eye level.

"I won't accept that, everyone deserves another chance." Y/n spoke proudly, but her confidence was swayed when the man suddenly pulled back, but a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

Another strange look overcame him, a look of sudden realization and understanding. "You sound a lot like her. But you wouldn't be saying this if you knew what I did." He explained in a sudden but painad manner.

"What did you do?" Y/n asked, her body language and tone now matching his. The man turned away for a moment contemplating what to say.

"I left them when they needed me most, I ran to the arms of another woman in the guise of being in love, when in reality I was scared to fall for her and in the end I hurt her and a once close friend of mine. She hasn't spoken to me since." The man in blue explained woefully, his mind and heart burdened by this. Y/n clearly saw this, but she stood firm in her opinion.

Returning her hand to his shoulder a gesture of reassurance, "If it makes you feel any better I'm sorta in the same boat." Y/n was hesitant to share, but she wanted clouser all the same.

"How do ya mean?" He questioned in return. Y/n cupped both of her hands together over her chest, a clear sign that she was apprehensive, but following a long sigh she explained.

"Well I sorta have this odd rivalry with another agent, and at some point we became friends," Y/n paused to inhale a shaky breath, "Then I fell in love with him." To Y/n the sentence couldn't be voiced fast enough, the shaky breath coming out rushed, a heavy weight resting on Y/n's heart. “When I finally worked up the courage to tell him, he fell in love with someone else." Now it felt as if it was taking all of her strength not to cry. The man in blue could feel this and in the softest voice he could muster reassured her.

“He’ll come around, they always do.” Pausing the man pulled away to blatantly look Y/n over, “And if not, I’d say there's lots of people who want you.” The smallest bit of pink was dusting the man’s cheeks, but his confidence roars more than his words, the thought causing Y/n to blush furiously. But before Y/n could mutter a replay of objection he cut in another surprise. “Would you like to dance?” 

This nearly floored Y/n, “Didn’t you say, ‘you don’t dance’?” She then questioned immediately after. With another wavy of his hand he dispelled the idea. 

“Yes, but I want to dance with you, isn’t that worth the exception?” He remarked cooly. Flustered Y/n accepted his hand as he began to lead them to the dance floor. 

But Y/n interjected, “Do you even know how to dance?” The question came off with far more nervous energy then she would have preferred. But as if on cue when the man in blue pulled Y/n flush to his chest a personal favorite song came on. 

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met   

It had been well over a year since she heard this song last, and it was with him. Just the two of them lost in the colors of the setting sun atop the roof of the BSAA headquarters, then and there when they held each other close and swayed to the music encaptivating them. The last night she spoke to him, the last time she lingered in the feelings of love and happiness. 

Now she stands here with another, slowly swaying to the same music, her mind losing itself to the once pleasant memory. But the man in blue pulled her back to the here and now by twirling her out around then back in, now with her back flush against his front. 

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

The hot breath kissing the back of her neck, the man in blue was quietly singing along, singing just for Y/n. At first she believed she was imagining his voice, imagining she was back in that moment again. The silver masked man spun her back out, but then pulled her close, now mask to mask he was singing to her all the while staring into her deep e/c eyes. 

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

Tears threatened to fall from Y/n eyes, this just couldn’t be real. And yet there she was dancing with the man in blue, spinning and swaying to a rhythm only her and another soul could know. 

When the night was full of terrors

Gently, as they moved with the music, becoming lost to the world around them, the man in blue raised his hand to softly cup Y/n cheek. 

And your eyes were filled with tears

Without lifting the mask he swiped his thumb over her teary cheek before gently gliding down her face and neck, resting atop her shoulder. Still the two move as one, dancing in a round all over the ballroom, earning gawking expressions and looks of awe from other women. 

  When you had not touched me yet

 Oh, take me back to the night we met

Softly he grabbed her hand and moved it to rest above his heart, his voice growing louder as he sang on to her. 

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met  

  Y/n couldn’t form words, she couldn’t only follow his lead and time, but when the song came to an end she was dipped briefly and suddenly before being pulled eye to eye again. Deep chocolate eyes stared into her, eyes she’d never forget. 

“Chris.”

(End of part 1)

[pooktales]

Greymane’s Garters

I made up a fake history because ‘Greymane’s Garters’ is so fun to say and imagine. Enjoy!

The Order of the Grey Garter, more popularly known as "Greymane's Garters", has origins comingled in Human myth and legend. It is now considered somewhat ridiculous, as it instantly conjures a mental image of the noble King Greymane of Gilneas, him covered head to toe in white fur as he is in Worgen form, but for some reason wearing a pink-and-gray frilly woman's garter strapped to his leg.

Image: from ebay (only 1 left!)

This, I assure you, Greymane's Garters are not! They are hardly a male Worgen lingerie trend, but an order of noble knights and also so much more. Firstly, female Worgen find themselves members of this ancient order as well. Secondly, the garter is only a symbol--today it is often worn around the arm at ceremony or as a badge, a flat pink-and-gray belt coiled in a hoop and showing its buckle, that it was once considered part of suit of armor to help keep plate buckled over the legs. Only attend a Greymane's Garters initiation and see for yourself and you can be assured of this. The members proudly wear very little but their fur, to show they have at least embraced their Worgen side (this is a subject of contention even within this royal order, but they at least agree fur is alright). So the wearing of yes, admittedly, skimpy clothing to show off fur and the traditional garter around the leg is a thing. But if it is not buckled around the leg, then it goes proudly on the arm above the bicep, or on a cape--it may look strange indeed to the unschooled, but it is an honorable form of dress. Greymane’s Garters are not 'furries in SM gear' whatever the modern youth mean by that. A Greymane's Garter would maw you and strap you to a pole or a bedframe or some other handy torture device if they ever heard you calling their order a low-key furry headcanon, never that.

Military History

The order was first formed in the Second War. Under pressure to conform to the standards and military norms of the Alliance of Lordaeron, Gilnean leadership made a pledge that they would stay a distinct force as far as they could, focused solely on the political advantage of their own kingdom. As such, they felt a need to distinguish their military leaders on the battlefield with a brand that could not be overtaken by the blue and gold Alliance regalia. Their other goal was to remind their soldiers that their home kingdom, Gilneas, should always be the priority. Of course, this manifested itself in only a token support force sent to aid the Alliance at that time, all of them good-looking men in excellent polished plate, saying things like 'What ho!' and also 'Get gabbin' or get goin!' which were practiced phrases to deflect accountability. They made it subtly clear that they were only interested in doing those tasks for the Alliance that would further Gilnean interests. And they defiantly wore their pink, gray and white garters high up their thighs. The grey garter became an emblem of their stalwart resistance to Alliance assimilation. The effort was a great success from the Gilnean perspective. Not long after the first Greymane's Garters arrived in Lordaeron, the Alliance despaired at them, actually, and didn't prod the Gilnean King for any more his "help". And then the Greymane’s Garters went back home after the conflict and eventually the Gilnean wall went up too, which certain Alliance leaders were pretty relieved for, even if they couldn’t say it. The wall also had the effect of ‘keeping it over on their side’.

Mythical Origins

The more mythical origins of the Greymane’s Garters involve a magical Grey Lady who walked out of the Emerald Dream one evening in the forests of Gilneas, accompanied by gray feydragons. Everything she touched turned into a gray mist. A knight set out to slay her, believing she was a witch, but instead, she mesmerized him and inspired him to gather his fellow knights to return to her and perform a great task that would, she said 'Make little sense now, but will mean everything to saving your kin' in the far future. They Great Grey Knight then returned to the mists as the Grey Lady bade him, with three axemen, five lancers, and twenty-six cavalry men. And then, standing in a circle, she gave them all the garters of their order to wear, attaching them to their legs and buckling each to cinch proud and tight. And then she showed them a traditional dance. It was the gray dance of death that much empahsized squats and lunges with the legs, later used to train King Greymane's personal guard for ages, who one day kept him alive during the conflict with Sylvanas.

Competing accounts say the first Greymane’s Garters never learned a fighting technique, but they did serve her special gray ritual wine made from special silver grapes. And she made them grill her delicious capon and venison for supper. In exchange for that, what she taught the knights was how to create a 'Grey Garter', a special kind of powdered sugar dough dessert that is made in loops of pastry. This sparkling gray dough dessert was passed down in the Gilnean court and would still be cooked today if not for the disruption, again, of Sylvanas laying waste to Gilneas.

Modern Findings

Today, historians cannot find any real evidence connecting the myth of the Grey Lady to the military dance of Greymane's personal guard. (If it can even be considered a dance.) Nor can they say with confidence that a legend of that era really would be an elaborate way to convey a few cooking recipes involving gray food. Most recent research makes a more practical suggestion as to the actual events concerning the Grey Lady. That is, the knights soon discovered the Grey Lady was in fact a witch, or at least a very strange woman with the skill of a pressure salesman and a lot of mist handy where she happened to live in the forest. She clearly had a thing for knights wearing garters so halfway through their weird dinner-date, the men who weren't drunk and drugged off their feet got together and slayed her. They vowed, there and then, to come up with a better story for what happened and be 'reborn in blood'. From there on, the 'grey garter' story became a joke among the Gilnean nobility descended from these surviving knights, and when an opportunity eventually came up during the Second War to give the Alliance of Lordaeron the proverbial middle finger for making them provide aid against the Orcs, the Gilnean nobility reached back for the 'grey garters' story, layered some more meaning in it, and then made it a part official military dress. As an in-joke among the Gilnean crusty uppercrust. The rest, as they say, is history.

Motto

The motto "reborn from blood" has passed into common parlance of course, though many Gilneans may not even realize it. One often meets a Gilnean or a Worgen who, thinking of the turmoil their people have endured, make the remark that Gilneas will be reborn from the blood of their enemies. This derives from none other than the Greymane’s Garters.

Source: wish.com

The Ribbon

As you can see, the ribbon itself has changed over time. First, in the era of the Grey Lady myth, it was a very tribal-looking chevron in white, pink and gray colors. Later, it was a bold pink-and-gray plaid. Even later, due to lack of resources and the loss of the kingdom to Sylvanas' forces, it was mainly the sort of spider's silk, large swaths of pink ribbon were easier to come by in Darnassus where most Gilnean refugees settled.

The pink color of the Darnassian iteration (also referred to as the Gilnean diaspora, so show some respect) isn't "girly" as some consider it. First of all, pink is a color, it doesn't “belong” to anyone. Second of all, the whole thing was going to be abandoned when the order was re-formed after the fall of Gilneas recently, but many of the prouder Worgen members insisted it was also the color of roses, or raw meat or flesh, which connects back to that side of the Gilnean experience. Gray connects back with Greymane and white is the color of a new moon, of hope, of Greymane's own fur hide. So they keep all the colors, pink, gray and white, intermingled whether in the traditional plaid pattern or the primal, very bold chevron that can be easily seen strapped to a Gilnean's leg across the battlefield. Or, yes. In frilly Darnassian pink if that's what's available.

Notable Members of Greymane's Garters

King Archibald Greymane

King Genn Greymane (current sovereign)

Princess Tess Greymane

Queen Mia Greymane

Lord Darius Crowley

Lorna Crowley

Lord Vincent Godfrey (posthumously stripped of rank due to treason)

Speculation

It is rumored that King Anduin Wrynn has been offered a place in the Greymane’s Garters (with a special exception made for his devotion to Stormwind of course). However, Greymane is most likely still awaiting confirmation that Anduin will accept. Undoubtedly he will, of course! Anduin’s biggest reservation is said to be ‘Wait, aren’t those guys a furry group that wears underwear on the outside? This is for real?’ Though SI: 7 refuses to comment on whether the the young king actually said this. It may be that Genn is waiting for Anduin to mature some more before offering Greymane’s Garter again. Or, it may be that other rumors are true, that Anduin is prepared to make his own royal order of garter-wearing knights if he has to, to get out of wearing fancy underwear given to him by Greymane.

Because, of course, two garters on both of Anduin’s legs, ontop of his armor? One leg pink and the other blue? That would look completely ridiculous and anyone would obviously agree.

Unless you are a proud member of Greymane’s Garters that is!!

-fin-

[velvetinewitch]

wips list

this functions as a key to all of my wips, including ones i don’t actively write but still work on occasionally. in case you didn’t know, all of my wips include: poc, LGBT+ characters, disabled and non-neurotypical characters, found families, usually fantasy elements because i love magic, and often a little romance (which is usually accompanied by found families or tragedy, but for my romance-repulsed friends, there are still stories with no romance!)

key: *: heavily connected stories >: stories taking place after the events of Faye and Fate (a very distant future)

Closest to Complete (in order... ish)

Painted Cards: a group of teenagers end up criminals after a magical goddess chooses them for greatness. instead of embarking on some epic adventure, they decide to save the world another way: through kindness and coffee. a story about a found family made up of unintentional criminals with trauma that they’ll learn to cope with. mostly written for myself, but also written for the people in my life who needed to see characters like them have a happy ending. a very hopeful, fantasy slice-of-life story.

*Faye and Fate: almost everything i write is exposition or a result of this 5 book series. Aralion Faye resets the timeline so often it all just blurs together. with each new on she creates, she watches the ones she loves die over and over again, as if it’s all a video game culminating up to that game over screen. things always start out so innocently, too; her memories never return until later, so for a while, she enjoys attending a magic school, falling in love, playing pranks, befriending her peers. by the end of the year, the world comes back to remind her that her happy ending is unachievable. between traitors, corruption, fires, and cliffs... this time has to be different. this time she’ll save everyone she loves. is overall a story about heroes of all types. love this series so much abhddvk. magic is based on skills/interests: art, writing, engineering, astronomy, directing, zoology, architecture, makeup art, etc

*Mortals Versus Morals: (this isn’t actually the title but it makes me laugh so it’s being used as the placeholder) Glen is 17, rich, sheltered, and possibly the most lawful good person ever. plot twist- there’s a prophecy predicting his (as well as 6 others’) involvement in the end of the world, and they aren’t on the good side. Glen struggles to balance saving the world from villains while trying not to become a villain himself. includes: road trips and bonding, scenes like the one where the aro-ace friend gets seduced by a nine-tailed fox who runs a Burger King, everyone educating Glen on cultures and respecting pronouns :) as well as the occasional choking angst that comes with a bunch of almost adults getting dragged into the business of gods. did i mention there are gods? there are gods. i do kill a love interest of a protag but then give them TWO romantic partners because i’m not a coward (i feel like the characters who lose a love interest end up in a poly relationship most often in my stories... as a sort of apology to them lmao). also Utah? basically stops existing at some point. magic is based off a deity someone worships, with worship comes borrowed magic. the characters themselves are basically just omnists? 

Beneath Our Skin: Sam and Ana don’t know each other. it’s by chance that they’re separated from their class during a field trip, and end of wandering straight into a portal to another world, one with magic. while searching for a way home, they accidentally make their own- in the meantime, they’re gonna find a magician who can give Sam a shapeshifting spell because Sam would really like to transition, even if it’s through magical means, please. written for me and my fake-brother, so lots of being platonically domestic and also sarcastic... this is in a really poetic writing style too.

House of Crabs: this is not the name it just makes me giggle so placeholder time! contemporary, no romance or fantasy or anything (although like one crime is committed but life is life that). here’s the old summary: Siera lives in the mansion of thirty year old Janelle, a woman who has the tendency to take in stray children, granting them shelter despite their tragic backstories or strange personalities. When one of the outcasts, Roy, is confronted by his biological brother, Roy is absolutely horrified by the concept of being dragged back to his transphobic family. The outcasts are dead set on protecting him, even if it requires breaking laws. But Roy's brother doesn't seem that content on harming Roy or bringing him home against his will. Instead, the boy seems more interested in coming out of the closet, hoping that his little brother and his new family can help him learn how to be his true flamboyant self. 

>Obligatory Superhero Stories (3 stories):  ----Lei is supposedly a civilian, until she arrests the man who ruined her life and accidentally ends up adopting his daughter, Hera. Hera coerces her into adopting her classmate Jason. the two get kidnapped. Lei gets annoyed by how useless she is in saving them, and becomes the first non-mutant superhero. in the meanwhile, the US Secretary of Powers, Victoria, is forced to monitor her progress for a court case deciding whether this is legal, and accidentally falls in love. Hera fucks with journalists and enjoys being politically smarter, Jason attempts to create a ground-breaking technology and blows up hundreds of phones, and Victoria never sleeps. literally. her superpower is just,,, no sleeping. ----Vessa becomes a superhero by accident. it involves art galleries, snow, and unlicensed doctors. now, she operates under an alias, the hero Froze (very creative, yes), alongside her trusted sidekicks. unbeknownst to Vessa, she has a history with the villain she’s fighting, and their teams may be more entangled outside of their aliases than first believed. basically, an enemies to family (and some lovers) story, involving a lot of morally grey shenanigans thanks to a corrupt society. ----there’s a villain on the lose, know as Heart-twist, with the ability to take someone’s darker emotions and intensify them. in reality, Sora is just a teenage girl, with four dear and near friends. it’s been a year since her sister’s boyfriend, a hero, prioritized glorious battle over rescue, and her sister died alone and afraid. Sora is just waiting to make him fall in love with her, so she can repay the favor.

>Paint Me a Picture: dystopian future! roughly 78% of the population is monochromatic, and can only see in shades of grey. it seems petty in plain sight, but jealousy has left the other 22% segregated, separated by a boundary and sinking in poverty. Pristaline is apart of the majority, privileged without even realizing it- her biggest concern is making herself a future in law. a car accident leaves her in a recover home near the boundary, where she accidentally meets Jackson, a color-seeing boy, who calls her eyes ‘blue.’ the encounter sparks a revolution. this is a sadder story- it ends with a girl, watercolor swatches, and a grave.

*Run From Wolves: Elayna is unfortunate enough to be a magic-born in the one kingdom that still prosecutes female magic-borns (to which she says, fuck their religion for saying women shouldn’t have magic). when she and her half-brother Shage are discovered, instead of being executed, Elayna is offered a position beside her brother in the kingdoms prestigious Goddess Guard. the offer comes with a price: they must swear allegiance to the king, and can do him no harm. luckily, a pretty spy from a neighboring kingdom offers Elayna a loophole. includes spirit animals, political intrigue, lesbians, murdering an asshole king, and a secret mystery involving immortality and wolves.

*Twin Kingdoms: there’s an island floating in the sky- two, now, split in half down the center. Melony and Serena have known about the conflict between their kingdoms, but they never really realized it’s intensity until Melony’s older brother close friend betrayed her and seized the throne for himself, pitting her kingdom against Serena’s and searching for war. Melony and Serena are able to escape together, living in disguise and biding their time before they can retake what belongs to them. has a really fun character who’s a villain (she’s the traitor brother’s little sister), gets stuck with an injury, is healed by a girl in an enemy village, and struggles to reaffirm her beliefs while vaguely falling in love. sighhhhhh i miss this series

*Where Shadows Bloom: written during the time of my life where i loved badass assassins becoming queens or princess... despite the trope being looked down upon, i hold this dear to my heart. basically, there’s a period of turmoil throughout the entire planet. on one end of the world, the queen is assassinated by a girl aiming to use her throne to destroy her noble parents, an underground group seeks to end slavery through magical battles and underhanded deals, and an orphan boy is made king. on the other side of the world, a second world war rages, pitting the Gold Alliance (good guys) against the Silver Alliance (bad guys). a princess goes undercover, venturing into a captured kingdom to spy on opposing forces. she’s taken in by an engineer/pilot who helps her stay in disguise as she uncovers the nefarious plot that involves the prosecution of an entire people. it all ties in together.

*Fateless: i really can’t get enough of magic and princesses, huh. ever wonder what Arthurian mythology would be like if it was in my world? Raine’s family has known tragedy after tragedy, from the death of her uncle, then aunt, her brother, and finally, her parents. fate has left her alive to inherit their throne when she comes of age. still, even she is cursed, wearing a ring that burns her with the pain of her people. she doesn’t wince anymore, not even when she watches another witch burn at the stake, and feels the flames crawl up her body, phantom but so, so real. when her kingdom falls, Raine and her most trusted knights are forced to flee into the woods. there, they find a tavern alongside a their road, run by a mysterious woman named Lancelin. there’s something familiar about the woman, something from Raine’s past, and something strange about the way that each of her customers leaves with healed minds and bodies. secretly-enemies to secretly-lovers! as common with me...

[greekbros]

"The Seven Ronin and the Seven Pearls" by Kiri Suikessho

(this is a Fairy Tale style story staring the Seven Swordsmen, the names have been changed for the purpose of creative writing choices. But if you know the characters, you should be able to tell who's who. There is no romantic subplot, not shipping, just a story)

Once in the land hidden in the mist, there was seven ronin. The ronin would roam the countryside in the search for bounty and opportunities of earning their profit. Each ronin had abandoned their own names in favor of titles that would strike fear into their enemies. The ronin would go on many quests to achieve personal tributes of of money and pleasure. These were not simply samurai, for they were ronin for a reason, these men were a vicious, barbarous lot who were deemed “too monstrous to be proper samurai” by the shogun. So they were banished from the court to roam wildly like the beasts they so boastfully behaved like.

There names were Spider, Rat, Fox, Tigar, Boar, and Dog. Their however, leader kept his name, his name was Samebito. A man who’s towering height would call attention first, then his beastly appearance of that which would be comparable to a sea monster with his sharp teeth and pale bluish skin. Unfortunately, because of his inhuman appearance his chivalrous, gallant nature would be rarely appreciated, only to his fellow ronin could see this side of Samebito. As for his fellow ronin, their appearances were less fortunate with their sharp, filed teeth and their roughed vagabond complexions. Spider, an equally tall yet gangly, lanky fellow with long but fluffy hair that could be used as garrote wire yet somehow is able to be just charismatic enough to find a fawndulf but misguided girl for him. Rat, a one eyed, salty drunk whos thirst for sake can be as ravenous as his blood lust. Fox, the son of a nobleman who seems to be fueled by sibling rivalry with his equally if not more conniving brother than noble ambition. Tigar, a handsome but dubious man who was trained by an onna-bugeisha who mysteriously vanished one season ago. Boar, once a lowly lumber man drafted into a civil war now retired ronin, who only serves to make sure these band of beasts still retain some shred of decency. Lastly was Dog, he was born into a cruel and unforgiving world of thieves and criminals, whom later learned the ways of the warrior to exact his revenge on cruel tyrant but failed to defeat him. In the worst of times these men would fight each other with effortless force, but in the best of times they are mindful allies in their foggy world of life and death. They would gather during the late winter to spend their three seasons hunting for profit and return to their homes in the late fall.

One of their occasional traditions before they head out to their nearly year long journey was to have the seasonal feast of oysters in late January, when it was the peak season to eat oysters. The ronin would gather at a special beach that Samebito knew about in his early youth. One this particular time, after a rather frustrating year of personal service, Samebito had become wary of his fellow ronin. He did not feel distrusting of them, he merely felt that a test was imperative. He knew only too well that from experience as a leader, nothing is as undesirable as unfaithful comrades. As the other ronin gather around in their usual formation after each of them contributed in collecting the oysters, Samebito ancoused a new part of his tradition.

“My comrades and brothers at arms, I have known you all for many years and yet I'm curious as to what the future holds for each of us. May I propose a game?," he casually declared. “It’s a silly little bit my own father did with his own fellow ronin…” Samebito concluded.

The others became curious to this unusual proposal on the account that Samebito was not one to play games...but nevertheless all the other ronin became intrigued.

“Tsk, what kind of game are we talking about? Are we playing ohajiki with pearls?”, Spider cynically asked. He liked playing tricks but he was not in the mood to dine and play.

“Will it be a drinking game?”, Rat yarped with mild zeel in hopes to a quick drink of sake to pair with the oysters.

Samebito nodded his head to both questions. Samebito took a deep breath of the salty air of the beach they’ve gather at. He knew what he was about to purpose was likely going to change the course of the ronin’s lives.

“The game will include pearls...but only the ones you all find. The first pearl you find, you have to keep at all costs, any pearls after that will be placed in this old bento box”, Sambito placed an old wooden bento box in the center of their group, “however, you will keep your first found pearl….or else” Sambito clarified with assertion.

    The other ronin could sense a grave tone in his voice, the tone of a man who was suggesting something with a level of risk….or reward.

    “Samebito, we have come to this beach for years….why have you decided on this game now….and just before we are about to enjoy our meal?”, Dog asked with a feather of suspension. He has never questioned Samebito before, but something told him heed his words.

Samebito simply tried to sincerely smile but it evolved into an awkward and toothy grimace. “It is simply to satisfy my curiosity….that's all.”, he answered. Samebito picked up the first oyster and said, “Now then, let’s eat”.

    As the others were eating, each other them found a pearl. Spider was the first to find a pearl, but it was a misshapen pearl with a subtle green undertone. “What an ugly little thing”, he thought to himself. He looked to see if Samebito was paying attention to the others, but he was enjoying his meal like everyone else. Spider had a brilliant idea and formulated, “I’ll find a nicer pearl to my liking and I’ll toss the ugly one into the box”. He quickly hid the first pearl, found a bright white pearl and tossed it in the bento box. Samebito did not notice the switch. Yet after this, Spider tossed every pearl like he was instructed to.

    Rat had eaten several oysters before he remembered Samebito’s rules of his strange new game and he had already gathered a few pearls in his hand. He did not remember which was his first pearl and thought, “damn it all, I don’t know which is which….I guess I’ll just have to pick the first one I touch, maybe that will count?”. He closed his eye and picked a randomly selected pearl from his hand to keep and tossed the rest into the box. He would have never known that he had chosen poorly and tossed his first pearl into the box with the rest.

    Boar had kept his first pearl, but he believed in humility and modesty. “If I place all the nicer pearls into the box and keep the least appealing, maybe the prize for this game will be better” he reluctantly bargained to himself. So he collected his pearls and found a small, shriveled, hideous little nugget that less remember a pearl and more resemed a small pebble. He kept it and tossed the rest.

    Fox was surprisingly fortunate to find two pearls in his oyster, but the rules were one must keep only one and it must be the first no matter what. He decides to keep both pearls because he concerned both pearls the first pearl he found. Little did he know, he may have never had a choice.

    Tiger's pearl was a deathly reminder of his previously murdered sensei, his pearl was a deep blood red, just like his sensei’s hair. He could not bare to look at his guilt in spherical form as if even the gods were mocking him. He hid the pearl until he found the next pearl to replace it, then tossed his blood pearl into the box.

    As this was going on, Dog had no luck finding any pearls until his last oyster. His pearl was as small as a mustard seed but as glimmered with silver and gold it was as if there was star in the palm of his hand. He was frankly surprised to have even found a pearl, he looked at the collected pile of pearls in the bento box and felt disconcerted about his find….as the others would put two or four at a time, he only found one….and it was his first. So he kept his as he was instructed by Samebito.

    When the bounty of oysters finished, Samebito then went on to purpose the second part of his game. “In spite of our traditional schedule, I purpose we have a year of indepence. We should see how all of us fair divided...”, he declared, “...again it for my own curiosity..so may I see you all next late winter for oysters”. Samebito then gathered his things as he was about to leave he heard Boar confront him.

    “What is this all about, Samebito? What is the purpose of this nonsense game of yours? You’ve always been a man of tradition...why change now?”, Boar harped.

    Sambito could not simply tell his fellow swordsmen that this was a test of trust, but he did have to do it. “Well Boar, it is simply that...a nonsense game for which you all must abide to the rules….I bid you all farewell until next late winter.”, Sambito than walk away into the thicket and disappeared into the shadowy green.

    The rest of the ronin were baffled, did their own leader disown them? Has their time as band of vagabonds end? They all stood looking at each other, pondering as to what events had lead up to this moment.

    Dog stood up and boldly stated, “I believe, we should trust Samebito, maybe this is just a change we have to accept….maybe its a test...but if you all want any of my useless input….I think we should still trust in Samebito’s words and meet up again next time….maybe there is a purpose to this nonsense.”. The other ronin stood disgruntled and frustrated, they did so well as group but now they must fend for themselves until next late winter...but they had no other choice but to heed Samebito’s instructions. They all nodded in agreement, and went their separate ways.

    As the months went…..so did mysterious tribulations. In the month of late January when the oysters were at their peak, Sambito sat on the sandy beach...waiting for his fellow ronin. A rustling from the forest broke the silence, revealing Dog, who was now draped in a fine silk kamishimo that embodied the mist and dreary shores. Samebito’s eyes lit up with seeing at the very least one of his closest comrades. He stood up, presenting a greeting bow in respects to Dog.

    “Ah my friend, looks like time was more than charitable to you.”, he chuckled with surprise.”Tell me, are the others coming?”

    Dog’s greeting smile shifted into a look of sorrow and grievance. “I have some….terrible news. They others have fallen over the course of the year….they sadly won’t be joining us…”, he sighed with burdening mournfulness.

    Sambito however, was not surprised to hear this. He was apprehensive to accept the fate of his comrades, but he knew this was expected.  “Then, weave me their stories...so that I may satisfy my unfortunate curiosity after such a long year.”, Samebito mournfully requested.

    Dog began to tell what he had gathered throughout the year after their separation. “Well, Spider was the first to go, a little bird told me that he was spirited away, his corpse was found near a river..some say they saw him get attacked by a beastly looking creature. The villagers believe a vengeful spirit took him. Then again, he wasn’t very fair with the women he would meet...one in particular was extra fawned of him...but she couldn’t bare to be rejected”.

    Samebito rubbed his stubbled chin thinking, “..did he not have a girl who died of a broken heart two years before?” asked Dog.

    Dog nodded yes to Samebito’s observation. “Rat died shortly after, but he drowned in a sake barrel...it's a shameful way to die in my opinion”.

    Samebito chuckled and encouragingly commented, “Well that is probably how he would have wanted it knowing him, he did have a hearty thirst for fine sake”.

    Dog chuckled but still felt that the gallows humor was not that best way to remember Rat. “Fox that foolish boy, he and his brother were at it again when he perished…both of those brats decided to duel to see who was the best with a set of nunchucks…his brother got away with bruises and Fox’s prize was a cracked skull….died in seconds.”

    Samebito scoffed at this, “well well, that’s what he gets for playing with a dangerous weapon”.

    Dog shuffled his legs for a more comfortable position. He continued, “Tiger's death was rather strange...he was killed by a pack of wolves, specifically a blood red she-wolf. The villagers in his village went to his badin to gather his things...and found a skull with red hair still attached...who would have known?”

    Samebito nodded in disapproval….to samuri, nothing was more shameful than killing your own sensei. He took a deep breath and told the last story, “Boar was the last one to go….a villager from his village told me that he invited a wandering traveler into his home, it seems the visitor...was a bounty hunter looking for his head, he was the most honorable of all.”

Samebito then raised his hand for Dog to stop, “You’ve done well...so tell me, how are you here?” he asked.

Dog looked to the sea and gave a smile. “The day we parted ways, I wondered the land for days until I came across a damsel in need. She was kidnapped by a gang of thieves, I slayed the thieves and rescued her. She later told me she was the apprentice of a powerful medicine woman. Her master told me that if I was allowed to take her hand in marriage if I presented a star...then I remembered my pearl...a tiny little thing at first but when I took it out to present it, it was the size of a peach and brighter than before….I not only gain love but I have become fortunate...how...could this have been possible?”, Dog turned to Samebito to find the Samebito surrounded by a divine aura. “What the? What are you?!” he exclaimed.

“My name is Samebito Futsushi, god of storms and the ocean, I have been looking for some worthy mortal to bless the gifts my nindo, my warrior’s way...and you my dear friend...have passed my test. Thank you, comrade”. As he finished, the wind blew and Sambito became mist, leaving Dog to be the new holder of his nindo.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Making snack boxes!

We’re here with Amanda, Laura, Quentin, Vincent, and Roselle at the campsite putting together snack boxes for a charity event with Falling Star!

Thanks to Gulliver and his travels, we have plenty of snacks to go around! We’re giving them out as prizes - gold for first place, silver for second, and bronze for third. The event’s basically a carnival with loads of games and snacks!

While making the snack boxes, I got to learn a lot about the Falling Star fam - most who are cancer survivors since all the proceeds will go towards various charities for cancer research.

There’s Amanda Bonfiglio, who’s the leader of Falling Star. The foundation was created according to the wishes of her best friend Lacey Travino, who lost her life to cancer. They met in the oncology ward where Amanda was undergoing treatment for leukemia. With help from Lacey’s mother, Falling Star was created to help kids and teens with chronic and/or terminal illness. For the past decade, the foundation has grown and helped many lives.

And there’s Laura Skylar, whose older sister Cassie was a recipient of Falling Star. At seventeen, Cassie was diagnosed with a brain tumor with a poor prognosis despite aggressive treatment. Using the money provided by Falling Star, Laura and her best friend Joanna decided to fulfill Cassie’s wish of seeing the ocean, even if it meant sneaking her out of the hospital. After spending a few days at the beach, Cassie passed away alongside her family and friends.

Months after Cassie’s death, Laura’s mother accepted a job at Seashore Path College, which happens to be about half an hour away from Camp Constellation. Since then Laura has been involved with Falling Star as a counselor and assistant coach. She also just started her sophomore year at Seashore Path and is studying to become a physical therapist. Not a single day passes by when she doesn’t think about her sister.

Quentin Toledo and Vincent Yang are both survivors of bone cancer. Quentin was a recipient of the foundation after experiencing a relapse at sixteen, resulting in the loss of left arm. He was first diagnosed at thirteen and it was caught early enough that amputation wasn’t necessary. After his relapse, Quentin was in and out of the hospital. It was a rough time for him and for a while he didn’t think he had a future. But by some miracle, things took a turn for the better thanks to experimental treatments and he achieved remission after two years. Since then he has been cancer-free for three years.

While undergoing treatment and dealing with the loss of his arm, Quentin was invited to attend Camp Constellation as a junior counselor. He almost turned down the invitation - which would have been on top of his list of regrets if he had - and that summer changed his life. Being around other kids going through similar struggles like him helped made him feel less lonely and scared. Plus the activities got him interested in sports again as he was a star athlete and was encouraged by Mira to pursue that. So he became a personal fitness trainer, working with various clients with all kinds of disabilities.

Thanks to Quentin, Vincent became involved with the foundation. Vincent had led an interesting life - from traveling on inter dimensional adventures with Celinda and Owl to masquerading as a vigilante nicknamed the Karate Killer - people thought he was invincible. And so did he - at least until a broken leg led to a diagnosis of cancer. As a result, his right leg had to be amputated - which resulted in an infection that complicated things. After a year of aggressive treatments, Vincent achieved remission and has been cancer-free for almost a year and a half.   

While undergoing treatment, Vincent worked with Quentin to stay active as best he could. Later he began working at the dojo with Coen and started teaching beginner karate classes at the camp during the summer. Vincent and Quentin also participate in some of the group therapy sessions, which are helpful to them too, not to mention many of the kids - especially amputees - look up to them. 

Finally there’s Roselle Viola, a former teen pop sensation turned director. Back in the day she was known as the quirky pop star Amanda Savannah in the sitcom of the same name. After the show ended, Roselle took a break from acting to attend college. What was supposed to be a short break turned into an eight year long one.   

While trying to restart her career and move away from her Amanda Savannah image, Roselle encountered several obstacles along the way. The biggest one was cancer, specifically stage three lymphoma, the same cancer that took her mother’s life nearly twenty years ago. After two years of uncertainty, she was in remission. Along with kicking off her new career as a director, Roselle has also been spending a lot of time working with various charities and foundation dedicated to cancer research, including Falling Star. She’s also working with Amanda and Mira on a documentary about Falling Star, which just started production last year. 

Hearing their stories and how they came together is a good reminder that no matter how bad things get, there’s always a small glimmer of hope. Five people with different lives brought together by hardships and loss, working together to make a difference.   

At first, putting together all these snack boxes seemed like a daunting task. But then we started talking and before we knew it, we were done! Now let the fun and games begin!

[allstarsstorymode867]

All-Stars Hero Files: Sir Daniel Fortesque (MediEvil Series)

From Wiki page.

“ I'll show you! ” – Sir Daniel Fortesque, MediEvil

Sir Daniel Fortesque (ダニエル・フォーテスク Danieru Fōtesuku?) is the main protagonist of MediEvil, appearing as the main protagonist in all the games in the series up to date. He was voiced by Jason Wilson in MediEvil and MediEvil: Resurrection, by Marc Silk in MediEvil 2, and most recently by Stéphane Cornicard in PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale.

Belongs to: SCE Cambridge Studio, Other Ocean Interactive and Guerrilla Cambridge

Name: Sir Daniel Fortesque of Gallowmere

Nicknames: Dan, Sir Fortesque, Dannikins (By Zarok), Forty-Daring (By Zarok), Target Face (by the other heroes), Jawless Arrow Magnet (By Wooden the Mighty), Fortisskay/Forteskwee (By Bloodmonath Skull Cleaver) and The Zero of Gallowmere (By the Gargoyles).

Titles: Captain of the Militia, Hero of Gallowmere and Minister of Defense

Gender: Male

Age: Mid-thirties (36 years old when he died after the first stray arrow had claimed him), 136 (In MediEvil Resurrection) and 636 (In MediEvil 2)

Born: 1259 (725 originally)

Died: 1286 (747 originally)

Resurrected: 1386 (847 originally), April 21, 1886

Voiced by: Jason Wilson in MediEvil, Resurrection, (Soon) 2019 Remake, Marc Silk in MediEvil 2 and Stéphane Cornicard in PSASBR.

Appears in: MediEvil series, Everybody's Golf 2 and PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale

Background/Story:

For years, Dan had regaled the nobles of Gallowmere with tales of slain dragons and vanquished legions. The King was so impressed that he made Dan a knight and appointed him head of the Royal Battalion. Of course, it was just an honorary post - Gallowmere had not seen any war in many centuries - but the King liked stories, and Daniel was an excellent storyteller.

But then, in 1286 the evil sorcerer Zarok returned from years in exile. Embittered and filled with wrath, he threatened to unleash an army of demons that he built using the "darkest of magic". The King was in desperate need of a hero and he knew exactly who he wanted.

Daniel was dragged from his bed and thrust at the front of King's army to face the undead horde. The battle commenced and within seconds Dan fell to the ground, struck in the eye with the very first arrow fired. His wound was fatal and the army was left to continue the fight without him.

Embarrassed by Dan's poor show, and realising the people needed to feel safe, King Peregrin declared that Sir Daniel Fortesque had died in mortal combat, seconds after slaying the sinister wizard. A hero's tomb was erected to Dan, the history books inscribed with tales of his valour. However, because Dan was not truly a hero, he could never go to the Hall of Heroes, becoming a laughing stock among them.

MediEvil / MediEvil: Resurrection In 1386, Zarok returns again. Using a spell within an ancient book of black magic, he makes the dead rise from their graves to form a legion of unholy warriors.

Unfortunately for him, he also unwittingly awakens Sir Dan. Daniel is able to retain his free will, which makes him the only one who can stop Zarok.

Awakened from his "eternal rest", Daniel reluctantly embarks on a quest to destroy Zarok once and for all. He travels through Gallowmere, aided by the heroes of the past and inhabitants of the land, collecting chalices and fighting Zarok's minions, until he eventually reaches Zarok's Lair. After a great battle, from which Dan emerges victorious, Zarok releases a powerful spell that causes the lair to collapse. Zarok is killed in the process, but Dan manages to escape. Daniel then returns to his crypt and later joins the heroes in the Hall of Heroes. (if all the Chalices are collected in MediEvil.)

MediEvil 2 In 1886, 500 years after the events of MediEvil, a man seeking world domination finds the spellbook and raises the dead as Zarok did many centuries ago.

Dan is awakened again, this time in an old museum located in Kensington, London. Winston, a helpful ghost, explains the situation to Dan and leads him to his summoner, Professor Hamilton Kift. The professor tasks Daniel with finding out who's behind the spell and collecting magical energy to help in fighting the crisis. While looking for clues, Dan manages to free an Egyptian princess by the name of Kiya from her tomb, who he falls in love with.

They manage to identify the villain as Lord Palethorn, an ambitious industrialist. After realizing that he needs the final pages of the spellbook to obtain full control over his monsters, they decide to find them before Palethorn does.

Dan journeys through London, fighting monsters, collecting chalices and even traveling through time. He eventually corners Palethorn in Cathedral Spires, where the fiend manages to obtain all of the spellbook pages and summons a demon to kill Dan. Thankfully, Daniel manages to defeat the demon. In his last attempt to defeat Dan, Palethorn activates a time bomb which causes the entire area to explode. Dan manages to survive, however. His fate depends on the amount of chalices the player collected throughout the game:

If the player doesn't collect all the chalices, Dan and Kiya return to Kiya's tomb along with the Professor. After saying goodbye to the Professor, they enter her grave and die together. If the player collects all the chalices, the Time Machine appears before Dan, Kiya and the professor. Dan and Kiya hop onto the time machine and use it to travel through time. They end up in Zarok's Lair. They are soon confronted by Palethorn in a monstrous form similar to the one Zarok took in the final battle of MediEvil.

Rivals/Allies:

Colonel Mael Radec (Killzone) (Rival)

Frisk (An Ally but worried on how they defend themself)

Edward Richtofen (An Ally) (Primis but is scared of his Ultimis self)

Ultimis Takeo (Frienemy due to the legend of Skeletons are considered bad spirits but respects him for being a hero)

Cuphead and Mugman (Allies, they often get him back on his feet when he was being a coward)

Meg the Chronicler (An ally and best friend alongside with Canny Tim. He also hoped that Meg will carry the legend in his honor to people of never-to-be-seen-before future.)

Pyro and Demoman (Allies) (They could relate much to Dan except the Pyromanic and Demolitions expert are alive while he is Undead Skeletal Knight. For Pyro, they talk without a jaw and with a Demoman lost his eye to the Bombicon as he had lost his by an arrow)

Abilities:

Being undead, Daniel has a few unique abilities, some of which are gained over time.

He can remove his left arm and use it as a weapon, although it is not very effective. In MediEvil, he gains the Daring Dash ability by defeating the Guardians of the Graveyard. He has it at the beginning of the second game and the remake. During MediEvil 2, he gains the ability to remove his skull after a bird pulls it off from his neck. After defeating the Iron Slugger, he can even put it on top of hands that wander around to form a Dan-hand. Aside from these abilities, Daniel exhibits great agility during the ending of MediEvil, where he performs four backflips in succession. He also has a lot of stamina, as evidenced by him carrying a hammer and various large swords. He is skilled at sword fighting and seems to pick up using weapons quickly, and thanks to his skeletal body he can use maneuvers most sword fighters cannot use (such as spinning his torso around) He seems to be fairly intelligent as shown in MediEvil: Resurrection, where he gets a seagull to fill in as his parrot by luring it with a fish, when he attempted to replace a piece of the Anubis Stone with a pumpkin, and in a removed FMV for MediEvil, he uses Morten to get inside the Asylum.

Appearance:

Daniel is a skeleton without a left eye and lower jaw, with his upper jaw having misshapen and crooked teeth. His eye color varies from game, ranging from gray, to black, to gold/green, to (as seen in the MediEvil PS4 trailer) blue. He is rarely shown alive, with a helmet always obscuring his face (aside from his eyes), but the history books describe him having a square jaw, steely gaze and a thick shock of hair, as black as ravens' wings. In MediEvil: Resurrection's stained glass opening, he is shown with blond/brown hair instead, and with pale skin and crooked teeth not unlike the ones his skull has. He is usually wearing silver/grey armour with gold hints, a red and gold doublet and brown leather gloves (only in the second game). In the Medievil PS4 Story Trailer, due to the higher quality, Daniel's face is still obscured but his teeth and nose can be seen slightly. Throughout the games, Daniel sports multiple outfits and armors.

Personalty:

Daniel is a very cowardly knight, but despite this, he is a very loyal fighter. He seems to have a sarcastic sense of humour and holds very little patience to some, but he is rather respectful as per the knight's code. Though he is often reluctant to be a hero, he usually finds a bit of courage and ends up saving the day, and will willingly help those in need. He is annoyed by Al-Zalam and Zarok, though in the former they end up becoming close friends. Daniel is also shown to be chivalrous, as he is a knight, and caring towards those he loves, especially towards Kiya and is especially saddened by her death, to the point he can't go on to defeat Palethorn and has to travel back in time to rescue her from Jack the Ripper. He also can be rather cocky sometimes and dislikes being told he is a coward and a faker, as shown when the gargoyles, the Heroes (particularly Woden the Mighty) or Al-Zalam berate him. He is quick to spot sarcasm and dislikes being reminded of his failure.

Non-MediEvil appearances:

Everybody's Golf 2

Sir Dan appears as one of the three unlockable "guest characters" in Hot Shots Golf 2. In order to unlock him, the player must beat him in versus mode.

PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale Sir Daniel appears as a playable character in PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale.

CHARACTER INFO: A coward whose celebration as a hero was unearned, Sir Dan has been given a chance to redeem himself, proving in combat he is worthy of his knighthood. He fights on behalf of his beloved homeland, Gallowmere, his oath to protect her intact despite her citizens’ somewhat waning interest in gallantry.

MediEvil

Imanzi: "Dan, Dan, Dan. Tell me, what's a warrior queen got to do to meet someone like you?"

Sir Dan: "Huh.. what..me?"

Imanzi: "Don't be shy, baby - I've seen you giving me the eye. You may be weak and feeble like all men, but I like you, Daniel."

Sir Dan: "Oh no..."

Imanzi: "Oh, I love a man who doesn't talk back! I think if you return I may take you for my husband."

Sir Dan: "Gulp!"

───────

Dirk: "Aalreet Dan man, how ya doing?"

Sir Dan: "Not too good!"

Dirk: "Now then, have ya got yourself a magic sword?"

Sir Dan: "No I do not!"

Dirk: "What? Daniel, man, y'cannat go into battle against an army of undead without a magic sword... Here take mine, you'll never have to sharpen another blade or my name's not Dirk Steadfast. It's not enough just to have a magic shield, you know, no matter what that soft, thickie Sturnguard says."

Sir Dan: "Great!"

MediEvil 2

Professor: "Ah, well done, Winston, I see you managed to find him after all. Fortesque, pleased to meet you, I should imagine that you are a little nonplussed, as to what exactly is going on, eh??"

Sir Dan: "Uh... Uh..."

Professor: "Well, allow me to introduce myself. Professor Hamilton-Kift, Magician, Inventor, and Master of the Occult at your service. If you're wondering what you're doing once again walking the earth, it appears that someone has got their hands on the legendary Zarok spell book."

Sir Dan: "Zarok... Ugh... No..."

───────

Professor: "Well, we won that round, quite literally, didn't we? But we're not out of the woods just yet. In fact, at this very moment, I'm picking up two areas of extreme psychic disturbance. One in Whitechapel, the other... It's like nothing I've ever seen... It's a pity you can't be in two places at once Dan."

Kiya: "Professor, let me go."

Sir Dan: "No, no, it's too dangerous."

Trivia:

He has a grandmother, but he has only mentioned her in his journal.

Dan wears a helmet in the Japanese version, the reason being that skeletons are considered bad spirits in Japan.

He is the only undead hero in the Hall of Heroes.

Despite not being able to drink, he can somehow eat the Roast Chicken.

His speech sounds less muffled in MediEvil 2.

It is revealed in MediEvil: Resurrection that Dan has ophidiophobia (fear of snakes), which Zarok takes advantage of before turning into a large serpent.

His muffled speech was achieved by having Jason Wilson reading lines through his teeth and with his head in a bucket.

According to the same journal, his family also suffers from seasickness/aquaphobia, he gets sinusitis very easily (though this might be a joke), he used to skip school, his grandmother made pumpkin pie (and took hip baths), and his favorite food is pumpkins.

Strangely, however, his screams are audible as seen on some of the FMVs.

He is also heard going "ahh" when he replenishes his health in a health fountain.

[angelguk]

royal au!bangtan

i gave this idea away a while ago but the account never did anything with it nor did they post it so imma just leave this here for anyone who wants to use it as prompt/idea starter

this has nothing to do w/ the fae!au btw

endgame was meant to be either jungkook or taehyung but do what you want! :)

it was roughly based off moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo minus the time travel and ten times the betrayal 

prompt includes: brief plot outline, character outline and first potential chapter (but everything can change pretty easily)

leavin it under here

potential title: affinity meaning a binding by mutual attraction

BANGTAN – TAEHYUNG (Duke), JUNGKOOK (General) NAMJOON (Philosopher/Astronomer) YOONGI (Advisor to King) JIMIN (Duke) HOSEOK (Duke) JIN (Stable Boy)

BRIEF PLOT OUTLINE – Reader is part of a country which is been invaded by the Emperor of the boys Kingdom. (Places need names). During an attack of a village that the reader lives in she is captured. Jungkook was leading that attack and found her hiding in the stables. Reader is the daughter of the leader of that region. Reader is known to have helped her father in many excursions. They capture her and bring her for questioning in the castle. Reader is tortured hoping that information could be taken from her. Reader knows nothing. King orders her execution but Namjoon defies it saying the stars have something in plan for her and they may use her as bait to draw in her father (who fled before the attack or wasn’t there). Yoongi is completely against this. But reader is now sentenced to do stable work / slavery where she meets Jin. They befriend each other quickly – Jin does not know where reader comes from. One day Jungkook needs service on his horse and Reader has to do it. Jungkook causes trouble and his friend, Taehyung (the Duke of some Court/place) is there with him as well as Jimin and Hoseok. Jimin takes the reader’s side while Jungkook and Taehyung are assholes (Only Jungkook knows where she is from).  Later that day a maid is dismissed from work (reason unknown yet) and there’s a bit of chaos as they need servers since the main dukes and general are here celebrating a holiday with the King. Reader is randomly chosen by the Chef and is forced to serve. At dinner Jungkook, Yoongi and Namjoon are shocked. King pays little attention to her. Crown Prince keeps on staring at Reader. That dinner is more of a conference meeting event and the Reader hears everything. Start’s to think on how to destroy the King so she can revive her Kingdom. Leads to Yoongi finding her in the Accords (place where important documents about the King and his kingdom are kept) but Namjoon comes to her rescue. Jungkook is also suspicious of her but Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin take her side. She begins to build a relationship with those three but she finds one of the King’s men (along with the Second Queen) planning an assassination of the Crown Prince. Reader happens to help prevent the death of the crown prince. Jungkook and Yoongi even more suspicious of her. Reader builds relationship with Namjoon and relationship with Taehyung turns romantic. (Now she is a permanent server no longer a stable girl).  Not sure where it goes from there.

End Game: Unknown (Either Taehyung or Jungkook – so either the boy who’s been by her side forever or the asshole who became her lover after they stopped being enemies)

Relationships

-         Deep friendship w/ Jin

-         One way w/ Jimin (Jimin loves her)

-         Mutual love/hate Jungkook

-         Mutual love Taehyung

-         Friendship w/ Namjoon

-         Friendship turned romantic/ sexual w/Yoongi (MAYBE?)

-         Deep Friendship w/ Hoseok

Names/Places:

·         Ennia READERS Kingdom

·         Ardeland  BANTANS Kingdom

Characters:

-         Reader

-         Bangtan Members

-         Queen Min Soonja (1st Queen)

-         Queen Hae Jisoo (2nd Queen)

-         Consort Ro Soo Ah (1st Consort)

-         Consort Mo Suelgi (3rd Consort)

-         Crown Prince Ryo Minho

-         King Ryo Gyeong Su

-         Prince Young Jae (Son of 2nd Queen)

-         Princess Yoona (Daughter of 2nd Queen)

-         Princess Hyo Rin (Daughter 1st Queen)

 Note: Gardenia is where the Reader was placed for safe keeping while her Father vanished + Jungkook became a General after his father died. 

CHAPTER ONE – NO MAN UNDER THE SKY LIVES TWICE

The air carries the pungent stench of death, within it lies the tired breathe of horses, the echoes of metal meeting metal in furious clashs and the faint glimmer of metallic blood. Dust dances in the air he breathes, coating his lungs in a thick layer of earth and smoke. Catani sits beside him, glistening sliver in the harsh sunlight of the Ennia lands. Her sliver body is caked in scarlet blood, slipping slowly off the sharp tip that’d been driven into the bodies of thousands. Her owner glances down, dark hair soaked in sweat clinging onto his forehead. His face is young but time and fighting has begun to show themselves in the deep chocolate eyes he possesses. His gaze stayed on the sword, ignoring the moving world around. The voices of his men chattering and bickering away as they assembled sticks and logs to create a fire fell on his deaf ears. He didn’t hear the crunch of dry grass as a man cloaked in midnight blue dashed towards his huddled figure. Until the man stood before him, panting heavily as sweat dripped from his sliver beard.

“General Jeon, there has been a message for you. From the capital.” The man says the word capital in a hushed whisper, as if the word alone could get him killed.

“What is it.” The boy doesn’t ask, his tone is a clear and solid command. His gaze doesn’t shift from the bloodied weapon either. Instead fingers painted in blue bruises and ivory scars find themselves twisting idly around a tall piece of grass.

The man tuts, lifting his hands to rip the head wrap from his sweltering skull. Hair the colour of moonlight tumbles from the intricate wrap design, falling like a waterfall down his back. “You’re not even going to look at me huh. Little rapscallion.”

The boy laughs. It’s short and brief and it comes out his throat like a cough instead.

“I didn’t need to look at you,” His fingers rise and point idly to the shoes the man was wearing. Curved pointed tips which reach for the skies. Capital shoes – not army boots. “Nobody else wears those bothersome things, Mordecai.”

The man huffs in reply, flopping down beside the boy. His heavy navy cloak hits the ground with a thud, spreading itself around the man’s frail body.

“Alright then Jungkook. But I wasn’t lying when I said there was a message from the capital.”

“What is it.” There’s a slight twinge of impatience in his voice. Reasonable because his arms and legs ached with pain. Tearing through bodies with a sword as heavy as Catani was wasn’t not as easy as he made it seem.

“His Majesty wants you to go forward into Gardenia tomorrow. It’s one of the last few villages we haven’t conquered yet. His Majesty is certain that the princess is there.”

Jungkook sighs, ripping the leaf of grass from its roots and tossing it into the heavy air, now tainted with smoke and fiery orange hue of the setting sun.

“My men haven’t rested for three days. Last night we had to deal with a rabid Kroni attacking our horses. We’re not at all ready for a new advancement. We need at least a day’s rest Mordecai.”

His eyes are on the elderly man, laced with lassitude and dispiritedness. His whole body sagged underneath the heavy armour, almost like he was caving in. Mordecai looked at the boy, yes he was a boy; more the half the men he controlled were his seniors. But he was a boy nonetheless. A boy who’d seen blood and fire. A boy who’d narrowly escaped death and swiftly handed out ones. He may have had the body of an adolescent man but his mind was as old as his father’s once before he’d passed away.

Jungkook always reminded Mordecai of his father.

The older man turned away, fixing his gaze on the blazing fire that’d been erected before them. The heat from the flames combined with Ennia’s natural furnace the sun (which refused to stop giving heat even after it went down) the world was an incinerator.

“You speak to me as if I was the King. I cannot change orders Jungkook. I can only deliver them.”

“I wish you hadn’t delivered this one then.” He’s up, black boots crunching leaves into dust beneath them. His strides are lengthy. His lean tall stature is covered in a black coat, the golden intricate insignia of a King’s General engraved on the back. Dry wind rips at his clothing, ruffling the brown mane his possess. He looks exactly like his father in Mordecai’s eyes.

“Jungkook-ah,” Mordecai says to no one. “There are many messages I wish I hadn’t delivered.” His sigh is carried by the wind to the ears of the young General. “So many.”

+

You can’t sleep. The night air surrounding you is abuzz with the sounds of glowing dragonflies skittering over the slumbering river beneath your feet. The water is cold to touch, slipping over your nimble fingertips like velveteen. The world is silver and gold; cool moonlight meeting the warmth of the lanterns scattered carelessly around the pathway.

The calm breeze whispers stories in your ears, ruffling the flimsy white nightgown you’d adorned when you’d slipped into the warmth of the blanket back in your room. It hadn’t occurred to you that a jacket would be necessary when the night had called you awake.

The fabric is rough beneath your fingertips, completely unlike the smooth satin dresses that’d your wear in the palace. Here, satin was a thing of treasure. Not one person wore it.

You’re kicking the ground beneath absently, the familiar knot of resent and anger towards your father forming in the pit of your stomach. Why did he have to leave you here? Of all places this tiny village couldn’t have been the best choice. He could have sent his men to collect you when that bastard Ryo attacked. He could have – but he didn’t.

A sigh slips out of your mouth and you spin around, trying in vain to get rid of that feeling that’s been building up in your bones and blood since the attack. The world was a kaleidoscope of grey and black and silver and gold. Glistening rocks surrounded you, shimmering under the glow of the moon. Your shoes skidded across the wet surface beneath, but because of the insane training you’d received from Myrna your balance didn’t falter.

Despite this attempt, the questions that drew you from sleep tumble in your head.

Why did he leave you?

Why didn’t he attack back?

Where did he go?

Is he even alive?

Why Gardenia?

Why?

“Y/N!”

The world is shook from you grasp and you come to a halt, frantically searching the dark trees for the voice which called your name.

“Y/N,  why aren’t you in bed?” The voice come from behind you.

*prompt ends here*

[thestargirllll]

Always our Little Star (Eggsy X Reader)

((This is my first Eggsy one shot. I debated on putting it up but I thought “why not?” The story takes place shortly after the events of The Golden Circle and the reader is Whiskey’s younger sibling as well as a Statesman agent. Before becoming an agent, they were highly involved in dancing, possibly wanting to make it their career but their parents are killed, leaving the reader and Whiskey alone which leads them to becoming Statesman later on. Eggsy tries to comfort the reader after the loss of Whiskey and a special necklace during the last mission.))

Enjoy!

You often found yourself reaching for the invisible chain around your neck multiple times throughout the day, only to find a growing pain of disappointment in your chest. The once existing necklace your parents had given you was lost forever. You missed the gentle weight of it as it brought comfort to you throughout your day to day. You would fiddle with the delicate rose gold star that hung at the end of it between your fingertips, feeling every corner leaving indents on your skin…How exactly did this treasured object get lost forever? Well, you could blame your job but really you wanted to put blame on the asshole you fought against on your last mission. You would have much rather had him pull your hair to get you within his grasp than him snagging you from the chain of your necklace and breaking it apart in the process. As much as it shattered your heart to see it fall apart before your eyes, your priority at the moment was to disarm the guy and carry on with the mission. Which is exactly what you did. And of course there is no time to dawdle looking around for a broken necklace when the fate of the world is resting in your hands.

You remember the moment your parents had given you this gift very vividly and often played it over and over in your head…

  It was the night of the last dance recital you ever did before your parents were…well…taken from this world. Your mother was cupping your face, praising you for your performance and your father gently put his hand on her shoulder, initiating her to pull away. “You never disappoint, Honey. We could watch you dance for hours.” His deep southern drawl always comforted you and your mom nodded in agreement to his words. “You’re gonna make it in this business, baby girl, I just know it. That’s why…” She looked over her shoulder at your father and he dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. “We got you this.” You took the box from your father’s hand and slowly opened it and you awed at the star inside. “You’re our little star. Always.” You looked up to their beaming faces and your heart was so full in that moment.

  It was a Sunday afternoon and you found yourself doing a bit of “spring cleaning” around your place. This was your way of dealing with stress sometimes, even when there was nothing to really clean. Losing your necklace sucked, yes. However, losing your older brother in the same day quadrupled your heartbreak. And learning about the shocking fact that he was against the mission all along really tore you up inside. You were always a team. Side by side. More than ever after your parents passed. So to see the hero in your life become the villain in 0.5 seconds flat was the biggest plot twist of your life…And you definitely didn’t blame anyone for his death but himself. However, your new work partner couldn’t help but give you sympathy glances every time he saw you. That partner was Eggsy. Even though you knew damn well the only option in that moment for him and Harry was to kill him. Jack was so damn stubborn and heartbroken from the death of his woman, there would be no changing his mind. They were doing their jobs. And you assured Eggsy of this after the debriefing of the mission when he kept apologizing profusely.

While lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized the burning smell traveling from your kitchen to your room. You rushed over to your oven and was greeted by a cloud of smoke as you angrily snatched the baking tray full of cookies out and plopped them on the stove top. Maybe baking today mixed with cleaning wasn’t your brightest idea. You also hadn’t realized the several missed phone calls on your phone since you were blasting your stereo, filling your place with your favorite Motown and 80’s hits. Out of habit, you expected to see your brother’s name flashed across your screen but instead you saw Eggsy’s…

 He never really calls you that often…

Suddenly your doorbell rang, making you jump. Dammit, Y/N. It’s just the damn doorbell. You went over to the door peephole and caught a glimpse of Eggsy, hands in pockets, swaying softly back and forth awaiting you to open the door. Shit. You walked over to the nearest mirror, studying yourself, fixing the mess that was your hair quickly and exhaled before opening the door. “Hey, Sorry I missed your calls…I was a bit tied up…is everything ok?” You asked as you greeted him. He presented you with a nervous smile, slightly throwing you off guard. “Yeah! Yeah, Just thought I’d check up on ya…I haven’t seen you since…you know…” His eyes began to travel to the floor. “We saved the world?” You finished, even though you know that wasn’t going to be the end of his sentence. “Erm…yeah. That. Are you having a party for one in there?” A small smirk was present on his lips as your music was still on full blast and you felt your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. “Depends on what you describe a ‘party for one’ as.” You joked. He chuckled and you moved to the side. “Did you want to come in…or?”

 Being around Eggsy was something you discovered you enjoyed more of lately. He seemed to pop up more and more in your life after the mission. It was nice how naturally you two had seemed to work together. It was as if you had been fighting along side each other for years. Harry commented on this during the debriefing of the last mission. He stopped you as you were about to leave the conference room, a gentle glint of concern burning in his eyes but he wanted to see if you were ok. “Y/N, excuse me if this comes across as too forward but I have a proposition for you.” You turned to face him, locking eye contact with him. “Yes, Harry?” He swallowed the hesitation in his throat before continuing. “I’ve been thinking…with half our agents gone and the impressive qualities you have as a Statesman agent…I would like to extend an invitation to become a Kingsman.” Your face must’ve portrayed dislike because Harry quickly felt the need to reassure you. “We would give you proper living quarters. You wouldn’t have to face any struggles with residency there. And of course, the job comes with many other benefits.” You still didn’t speak. You didn’t know exactly how to respond. “It was just an invitation. I wouldn’t be extending it if I thought it wasn’t a necessary thing to do. We just like to approach greatness when we see it.” A warm sensation burned in your chest and you felt tears stinging your eyes but you blinked them away. You really did respect Harry. “Harry, I don’t even know what to say…Thank you. But I think its best I stay close to home right now…” He gave you a warm smile followed by a nod. “Of course.” He put a hand on your shoulder, before beginning to walk out of the room. Just as he hit the doorway, he stopped and turned back around. “You and Eggsy work well together…Partnerships like that are a rarity to find now. It reminds me of the partnership that his father and I had…” You sent him a genuine smile. “Take care, Y/N.” “You as well, Harry.”

 “So when are you and Harry leaving?” At this point, you were shamefully scraping your burnt cookies off the baking tray and tossing them in the trash while a slightly amused Eggsy sat at the dining room table, watching you. “Dunno, actually…He says he’s waitin’ on an answer on somethin’.” This struck you a bit odd but you didn’t question it. You didn’t really need to know all the specifics of Kingsman protocols. It wasn’t your business. You finally finished and joined Eggsy at the table, resting your face on the palm of your hand. “I’m usually not this much of a mess, I swear.” He smiled that Eggsy smile that you’ve grown to like. “S’right, luv. I think it’s quite refreshin’ seeing a polished woman be real for once.” You snorted lightly, the warmness burning your cheeks again. “So why are really here?” Your question caught him off guard and suddenly it was his turn to feel the warmness in his face. “Well…I’m not real good at this kinda stuff…but…” He stood up now, digging in his jacket pocket and pulling out a small wrapped box. You could tell he wrapped it himself, as the tape job was a bit messy. The wrapping paper was stripped with silver and white. He hesitated a moment before speaking and handing it over to you. “I hope this isn’t awkward…I just…I just happened to come across it and I felt it was somethin’ you would maybe find helpful? I dunno…maybe you won’t like it but-“

“Eggsy…I haven’t even opened it yet.” You giggled. “Right. Sorry.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets nervously. You never thought you’d receive a gift from him and you couldn’t imagine as to why he felt the need to get you one. You gently tore apart the wrapping and found a velvet jewelry box inside. You were a little nervous now to find what would be in it. You could practically feel Eggsy’s nervousness radiating off of him which was odd for him. He was always confident in everything he did. “You’re not proposing to me are ya,?” You joked, a smile lightly tugging on the corners of your mouth. Eggsy’s cheeks burned a light pink, eyes widening. “Bloody hell, Y/N. No! No, it’s not that, I swear.” You giggled again. “I’m just messing…” You finally opened the box and you felt your heart stop for a few seconds. You stared at the shiny object in front of you for what felt like ages. You didn’t think he had remembered how important this was to you but he did. The rose gold star glimmering in the box may not have been the one your parents gave you but it looked pretty damn close to it. “Wh-Where did you…” You slowly pulled the necklace out and placed it in your hand, feeling the chain dangle from your fingers. “I was out and about the other day and happened to see it in the window of that old jewelry shop down the way from the Statesman Headquarters…and I remembered that story you told me about your parents giving you that necklace you had before…on the night of your last dance recital.” Your eyes were fixated on the star the whole time he spoke. “I also remember why they gave you a “star” out of all things…turn it over…” You furrowed your brows and did what he said and you saw small lettering engraved in the back. At first you couldn’t read it but once you caught the right lighting the words revealed themselves to you.

 Always Our Little Star

You weren’t the crying type, especially in front of people you didn’t feel comfortable crying in front of but in that moment, you felt the tears sting the outer corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry if it’s a bit much, I just thought it would make you happ-“ He was cut off by your body being pressed to his, your arms wrapped around under his arms, holding him in a tight embrace. The side of your face was pressed against his shoulder and you felt the tears finally fall down your face. “Thank you.” You whispered, your voice slightly quivering. You felt him relax and he returned your embrace, moving a hand to lightly stroke your hair. “I’m glad you like it, luv…” Your tears were falling onto the soft material of his jacket and you finally pulled away, wiping them profusely. “Like it? I love it. Eggsy…you didn’t have to…seriously.” He shrugged and made another one of your favorite Eggsy faces. “Who said I had to? I wanted to…You deserve a reason to smile again, yeah?” You smiled at him and it sent a wave of happiness through Eggsy. He couldn’t quite place this feeling exactly but it felt right to him. Seeing you smile in that moment was like winning the gold. And he desired to make you smile again just to see it over and over again. You fiddled with the necklace to clip it around your neck when he walked up to you, reaching a hand. “Allow me.” You stopped and handed it over and you turned around, holding your hair up, exposing your neck to him. You felt him put the necklace around you and secure it in place and you let your hair fall back down. You looked down at the twinkling star now hanging from your neck and you felt yourself beaming. Eggsy had brought your parents back to you.

“You know I do quite like this song…” You stopped and remembered your music was still playing softly in the background. The Spinners “Could it Be I’m Falling in Love” was playing. “I’m glad you approve of my setlist.” You joked. He smiled and nodded, his shoulders starting to move to the tune. “I know I don’t hold a candle to your skills but…may I have this dance?” You chuckled, shaking your head in embarrassment but you took his hand and he pulled you to him. You two began slow dancing in a circle, moving along to the slow ballad. Eggsy of course tried making you laugh as he would twirl you and dramatically dip you. You haven’t had a genuine laugh in days and it felt good. The sound of your laughter warmed Eggsy so much, he didn’t think he’d ever tire of it. After witnessing seeing the heavy dread hiding behind the steady front you had going on, he couldn’t help but try and bring back some sort of light in you. Mostly because he knew what that dread felt like. He felt it when his father passed and he felt it again when he thought he lost Harry. And dammit, he just couldn’t help that he thought your smile was beautiful.

 “What?” You asked him. He was staring at your face for quite sometime and it wasn’t until you said something that he realized it. “Oh…nothin’. I’m just thinkin’.” You pursed your lips. “About?” He bit his lip, shaking his head. “It’s a secret.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Sorry, Luv. You know how the spy thing goes. If I told ya…I’d have to kill ya…” You rolled your eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone, Ghalahad.” He smirked at you calling him this and he gave you one of his signature winks. And it was in that moment, you realized something…

You were falling for Eggsy Unwin.

And you were becoming very sad at the thought of seeing him go back to London with Harry…and not knowing when you’d see him again. The thought pained you more than you cared to admit to yourself. You were enjoying every single minute of this moment and longed to have many more just like these. You also suddenly realized maybe your home wasn’t “home” anymore…Maybe a fresh start was something you desperately needed. And then it dawned on you…

You knew exactly the answer Harry was waiting on…

A flash of excitement sparked through you and you finally spoke. “Eggsy, I need to talk to Harry.” He stopped mid dance and frowned. “For what?” You smiled and pulled away from him, grabbing his arm and pulling him along towards the door. “I have to give him the answer he’s waiting for.”

[amdoca-blog]

diane arbus: in the beginning  

I don’t know why the gallery has used lower case lettering in its promotional material.

 Hayward Gallery, 13 February to 6 May 2019

Organised by The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Curated by Jeff L Rosenheim, Curator in Charge of the Department of Photographs: with Karen Rinaldo, Collections Specialist, Photographs; Martha Deese, Senior Administrator for Exhibitions; and Emily Foss Registrar.  

Supported by Cockayne – Grants for the Arts and The London Community Foundation and Alexander Graham, with additional support from Michael G and C Jane Wilson.  (Hayward Gallery, 2019).

 This exhibition primarily features photographs made with 35mm cameras in and around New York City between 1956 to 1962.  Most of the exhibition photographs are gelatin silver prints made by Arbus.  Most are held in private collections, and in the Diane Arbus Archive at Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

There is also one room displaying A Box of Ten Photographs, a project she worked on between 1969 and 1971.  These photographs, on loan from the Victoria and Albert Museum, were printed posthumously by her assistant and student Neil Selkirk (Guggenheim, 2019).

I wondered why nine of these later works are being displayed in a separate room at an exhibition subtitled ‘in the beginning’.  Xmas Tree in a living room in Levittown, L.I. 1962 is in the previous room.  There is no explanation why.  Were they included to show how her work changed over time?  They are already kept in London.  

There are two rooms of photographs arranged on grids of white columns, “…visitors are free to follow any path they choose as there are only beginnings – no middle and probably no end…”  (Hayward Gallery, 2019).  I found myself first walking to the back of the room, up and down ‘aisles’ in the opposite direction to other exhibition-goers, to avoid crowding around the prints and to get a better view.  Also, what does this statement mean; that her work endures?  After visiting the exhibition, I did some reading. I found this quote from a letter she sent to friends in 1957,

 “… I am full of a sense of promise, like I often have, the feeling of always being at the beginning…” (Arbus et al, 2012: 141).

I do not know if the organisers of the exhibition are alluding to this remark.  I learned that Arbus committed suicide a year after A Box of Ten, a limited portfolio of special prints, with inscribed vellums, was published (Smithsonian, s.d)

Only four sets are known to have been bought in her lifetime, “...by an elite group..” . (Hayward Gallery notice).  The notice tells us Marvin Israel designed the packaging, but does not explain who he was.  During my reading after the event I learned he was her partner; an artist and, from 1961, art director of Harper’s Bazaar which published her work during the period the Hayward exhibition mainly focusses on.

Between 1956 and 1962 Arbus stopped using a medium format Rolleiflex in favour of a 35mm Nikon (Arbus et al, 2012: 139). Unlike bulky 2 ¼ cameras which “…require the subject’s cooperation and participation…”  (Arbus et al, 2012: 59), 35 mm SLRs allow photographers to capture moments and quickly disconnect from the subject.  

Images such as:

Old Woman in hospital bed, NYC 1958

Lady in the shower, Coney Island, N.Y. 1959

Man in hat, trunks, sock and shoes, Coney Island 1960

Two girls by a brick wall, NYC 1961

raise the question in my mind about whether these people gave their consent to be photographed, or if some were staged.

In a letter to Marvin Israel she confessed that when visiting the shrine of a disinterred saint , she,

 “…got a terrible impulse to photograph her and I tremulously did which wasn’t legal so I pretended to be praying and pregnant…” (Arbus et al, 2012: 146)

In a postcard she sent to Marvin Israel in 1960 she wrote,

“…This photographing is really the business of stealing… I feel indebted to everything for having taken it or being about to…” (Arbus et al, 2012: 147)

I took some notes during my tour of the exhibition of images I found noteworthy. This image Mother Cabrini, a disinterred saint in her glass and gold casket, N.Y.C. 1960 was not among them.  I found the story behind the image more interesting.  Knowing the photograph is a furtive snap changes its meaning; the exhibition does not explain much.  I don’t remember if there was an audio guide.  How many people were there like me wa/ondering around the grid?

I did not buy the catalogue, priced at £35, but noted that Revelations was priced at £75. I thought the price was quite high.   However, I thought the reproductions were of a better quality and saw that one of the editors was her daughter. I assumed Doon Arbus would be able to share more information about her mother than any other writer.  I bought a cheaper copy online.  

On reading Revelations I found out that, up until 1958, Arbus experimented with cropping.  Photographers and art editors at the time used this technique retrospectively to reveal an image within an image.  It could,

“…impose a sense of immediacy, or of a privileged, almost private view after the fact…”  (Arbus et al, 2012:52)

Boy above a crowd NYC 1957 illustrates this idea but I do not know whether Arbus cropped it, not having seen the contact sheets.  The title does not indicate to the audience what the audience depicted are looking at.  They are looking to the left, the boy Arbus wants us to focus on is looking directly at us.

In 1956 Arbus ended her photographic partnership with her husband.  She felt her role in their commercial business was as “a glorified stylist” (Arbus et al, 2012: 139).  She joined two photography courses taught by Lisette Model (1956 and 57).  In the 1940s, Model photographed ordinary people in the streets of New York City.  

In 1971 Arbus told students in a master class,

“…In the beginning… I used to make very grainy things.  I’d be fascinated by  what the grain did because it would make a tapestry of all these little           dots…Skin would be the same as water would be the same as sky and you      would be dealing mostly in dark and light not so much in flesh and blood… It   was my teacher…who finally made it clear to me that the more specific you            are, the more general it’ll be…”  

(Arbus et al, 2012: 141)

I do not remember seeing Coney Island 1960 (Windy Group) in the exhibition.  It is in Revelations, but I am unable to locate the image online.  It shows a group of people on a windy beach; a woman is bending over away from the camera and her stripy dress is blowing in the wind. It is extremely grainy; did Arbus intend the grain to suggest a sand storm?

Towards the end of her life Arbus told her students,

“…I remember a long time ago when I first began to photograph I thought,       There are an awful lot of people in the world and it’s going to be terribly hard to photograph all of them, so if I photograph some kind of generalized human being, everybody will recognize it…And there are certain evasions, certain        nicenesses that I think you have to get out of..”  (Arbus et al, 1992:10)

At the Hayward exhibition, I noticed that,

Kid in black face NYC, 1957 is exhibited near, Lady on a bus NYC, 1957.

Was the year-long (1955-6) Montgomery Bus Boycott in Arbus’s mind?  Around this time Arbus was trying to find photographic editorial work and took some photographs of litter for a magazine, for which she was unpaid.

 “…I followed flying newspapers…running like mad to keep up with dick tracy…” (Arbus et al, 2012: 142)

Windblown headline on a dark pavement, NYC 1956.  Most of the photographs in this exhibition are of people.  I did not understand the appeal of some of the photographs lacking them, such as those of “…psuedo places…” (Arbus et al, 2012: 163) for example, A castle in Disneyland, cal., 1962, or Rocks on heels, Disneyland, Cal., 1963, but I thought this particular print was inspiring.  

I noted a number of photographs taken inside and outside cinemas.  Several are of the screen, taken at some distance from it, from the audience’s viewpoint;

A Dominant Picture 1958

Man on screen being choked 1958

had a personal resonance.   There is also a close up, probably taken in a cinema, of a scene from the controversial film Baby Doll, 1956.

In Movie theater usher standing by the box office NYC, 1956 an usher stands by the box office in an oversized uniform.  It occurred to me, after seeing an online reproduction of this photograph away from the exhibition, that it is reminiscent of a Soviet style uniform.  Was Arbus intending to remind us of the 1956 Hungarian Uprising?

In 42nd Street Movie Theater Audience NYC 1958 Arbus’s camera is placed some distance away from the scene.  A projector beam cuts through the fug of cigarette smoke.  It is not easy to tell what people are doing; there is some blurring, perhaps there are people asleep and a couple kissing.  A print made by Neil Selkirk, her student and assistant, is valued at between $20,000 - 30,000.  I quite liked the photograph at the exhibition, but I do not think it is that extraordinary.

It seemed to me that Arbus’s intention was to make the ordinary extraordinary and the extraordinary ordinary.  In The Backwards Man in his hotel room, 1961 a man is standing in a standard hotel room. His head is directed to the left of the frame, his feet to the right.  He is wearing a full length clear plastic mac indoors.  Is this to draw attention to his body?  After the exhibition I learned he was a contortionist from Hubert’s Dime Museum and Flea Circus in Times Square called Joe Allen;

 “… Joe Allen is a metaphor for human destiny – walking blind into the future with an eye on the past…”  note in her appointment book (Arbus, 2012:154)

Sontag offered a suggestion as to why Arbus chose her subjects.

“…At the beginning of the sixties, the thriving Freak Show at Coney Island     was outlawed; the pressure is on to raze the Times Square turf of drag      queens and hustlers and cover it with skyscrapers.  And the inhabitants of           deviant underworlds are evicted from their restricted territories – banned as        unseemly, a public nuisance, obscene, of just unprofitable…”

(Sontag, 1973. 43-44)

There are many photographs of female drag artists in the show.  Two different interpretations of ‘woman’ can be seen in the fleshy beauty of Girl in her circus costume backstage, Palisades Park, N.J. 1960, and the haughty and fabulous Blonde female impersonator standing by a dressing table, Hempstead L.I 1959, a coded appropriation of ‘womanliness’.

In October 1959 Arbus started work on a project about aspects of New York life for Esquire magazine, photographing “…the posh to the sordid…” (typewritten letter to Robert Benton, art director of Esquire (Revelations, 2012: 333)

I made a note of the title, Woman in white fur with cigarette, Mulberry Street NYC 1958, at the time of visiting the exhibition, but did not really reflect on the photograph.  I felt pressurised by the crowd to move on.  The unnamed woman’s stance could be interpreted as expressing her annoyance at being photographed, self-confidence, or self-entitlement.  Is she scowling?  She fills the frame, and appears quite large.  The lights in the background, possibly Xmas street lights, appear to surround her head.  Are we meant to see a Valkyrie?  The location is Mulberry Street, NYC; the street name made me think of expensive handbags. Is the woman in the background, who I have only just noticed, smiling obsequiously or simply smiling?  

For me, Arbus’s titles often suggest a deadpan or sardonic humour, which I enjoy.  This title, Miss Maria Seymour dancing with Baron Theo Von Roth at the Grand Opera Ball, NYC 1959, is similar to captions of photographs in society magazines. I don’t know now why I thought this was funny; I did not make adequate notes at the exhibition because I thought I would be able to access the image online at home afterwards.  

For some of this work she obtained a Police pass (Revelations, 2012:144); Corpse with receding hairline and a toe tag, N.Y.C. 1959

Looking at photographs of Israel after the exhibition, (Revelations, 2012:145), could this photograph be an inside joke?  A notice on the wall at entrance of the Hayward states,

“…This exhibition contains images that some visitors may find upsetting and some that contain nudity.  If you require further information, please speak to an exhibition host…”

In postcards sent to Marvin Israel in January 1960 she wrote about a disturbing scene she had photographed,

“… I am not ghoulish am I? I absolutely hate to have a bad conscience, I think it is lewd…Is everyone ghoulish?  It wouldn’t anyway have been better to turn away, would it…?”  (Revelations, 2012: 145-6).

All layers of society are portrayed in the exhibition.  Among the photographs of society people are photographs of performers at the Hubert’s Dime Museum and Flea Circus in Times Square, such as Hezekiah Trambles, ‘The Jungle Creep’. The close up of ‘The Jungle Creep’ is a powerful image.  He played a ‘Wild Man of Borneo’ racist stereotype for a living.  Tramble’s face fills the frame; the photograph is blurred and grainy.  A light source catches highlights in his eyes, perhaps a button over his Adams apple, and a tooth.  How many teeth does he have?  Are their tears in his upwardly directed eyes?  His eyes appear unfocussed.  He is photographed from below; he looks monumental.

Arbus photographed various people who she described as ‘freaks’, ‘The Sensitives’ and ‘singular people’.  In 1971 she told her students,

“…Freaks was a thing I photographed a lot… There’s a quality of legend         about freaks…Most people go through life dreading they’ll have a traumatic  experience. Freaks were born with their trauma. They’ve already passed       their test in life.  They’re aristocrats…” (Arbus et al, 1992:3).

By making us look up at Trambles’ face, did Arbus intend us to see someone deranged?  Or a Man with human dignity?  

In a notebook she wrote,

 “..If we are all freaks the task is to become as much as possible the freak we are...” (Revelations, 2012: 54) and in a postcard to Marvin Israel in 1960 she wrote,

 “..Freaks are a fairy tale for grownups.  A metaphor which bleeds…”  (Revelations, 2012: 54)

 In 1961 Arbus completed a story, “The Full Circle” which included portraits of six people including Stormé de Larverie from the Jewel Box Revue’s touring drag artist show, ‘Twenty-Five Men and a Girl’, Miss Stormé de Larverie, the Lady who appears to be a Gentleman NYC 1961.

Neither Esquire nor Harper’s Bazaar published the story with de Larverie. Esquire wanted to leave out Stormé “…due to lack of space.  Infinity, the publication of the American Society of Magazine Photographers published the story in 1962 which included de Larverie.  Was the de Larverie photograph initially excluded because it depicted a lesbian, or because editors regarded the print as being unremarkable?  The Hayward gallery offers no information about de Larverie’s historical importance.

I wasn’t sure if the exhibition was presenting Arbus as a feminist;

Barbershop interior through a glass door, NYC 1957

Blurry woman gazing up smiling, NYC 1957-8

Mood meter machine, NYC 1957  

In the barbershop interior we can see men looking at a woman taking photographs in the street at night.  Their various expressions include puzzlement, amusement and incredulity.  The presence of the woman photographer is only suggested by her reflection in the glass. I am that woman now looking from the outside in.  Am I obliged to become involved with what I photograph?

Of the Box of Ten photographs, one of my favourites is,  

Retired man and his wife at home in a nudist camp one morning NJ 1963

I see this as a cosy and affectionate. Soft sunlight filters through the net curtains; it is a domestic scene with a twist.

Arbus described her experience of taking photographs in nudist camps in 1971, where she was required to take photographs naked,

“…You may think you’re not (a nudist) but you are…” (Arbus et al, 1992: 4-5)

As a suburban, semi-educated, left-leaning liberal standing in a contemporary Western art gallery, the wall notice warning about nudity surprised me a bit; I wasn’t concerned by the nudity displayed within this context.

Neil Selkirk, who printed the Box of Ten, believed Arbus’s prints look different from other photographers’.  She did no dodging or burning,

“…If she ever had the urge or the knowledge to make the print beautiful in a conventional sense, she resisted it. The unique quality of Diane’s prints seems a direct response to what is required if one is extremely curious and utterly dispassionate...” (Revelations, 2012: 275)

He thought she had intended to make the final image look like snapshots or newspaper photographs.   To me, the 35 mm photographs in the exhibition generally look like snapshots; the Box of Ten artworks look like beautiful parodies of photographs specific to glossy magazine features.  Arbus’ photographs could be seen as diverting, rather like a day out at an art gallery  

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Arbus, D (edited by Arbus, Doon, Israel, M) (1992) Diane Arbus, London, Bloomsbury Publishing Ltd.

 Arbus, Diane, Arbus Doon, Phillips; S, Sussmann E, Selkirk N,  J L Rosenheim (2012) Revelations: Diane Arbus, Munich, Schirmer/Mosel

Guggenheim, K (2019) Diane Arbus: An interview with Jeff L. Rosenheim and Karan Rinaldo.  At: https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/blog/diane-arbus-interview-jeff-rosenheim-karan-rinaldo-hayward-gallery  (Accessed on 24 March 2019)

Hayward Gallery (2019) Hayward Gallery Exhibition Guide, London, Hayward Gallery

Metropolitan Museum of Art (2019) diane arbus in the beginning [online] At https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2016/diane-arbus (Accessed on 30 March 2019)

Smithsonian American Art Museum (s.d)  A box of ten photographs [online press release] At: https://s3.amazonaws.com/assets.saam.media/files/documents/2018-04/wall%20text.pdf  (Accessed on 30 March 2019).  

Sontag S (1973) ‘America seen through photographs, darkly’ in On Photography (1979) London, Penguin Books Ltd

[davantagedenuit]

Black Thoughts

So, sometimes, I think thoughts and I will put them here in case they are entertaining, or may rouse thoughts in others, or happen to be cool, or kittens.

So, also, I watched Black Sails. (And Hannibal is still the flaming spear in my heart, please don’t you all worry.) I read meta about the historical setting and the characters’ deep thoughts and deep feels, and the GAYtude. And, in response to all this greatness, I decided I would have some arid narratology-centric thoughts. (They turn out to be cool, though.)

So. Question: Who is the narrator in Black Sails?

Ah. Not as easy as it seems, right?

I have two answers.

Answer 1: A part of me thinks this whole thing is in fact the story of Eleanor Guthrie trying to narrate the hypothetical story in which she is the only protagonist. (For simplicity and future reference: the narrator is someone who (1) produces the tale, while not necessarily being a character in it, (2) controls or influences, in some way, the events in them, (3) knows more than the characters of the story.) Eleanor wants this. She would like to have a say and the mechanics and the OCCASION to tell the tale. She would like to control SOME EVENTS about her life, SOME OF THE TIME. She also desperately, soul-eatingly would like to know more than the main protagonists of the Pirate Show AND she would like to know more than herself, possibly to tell herself, on at least SOME occasions, ‘This dude will screw you. All these dudes have always screwed you.’ But, she says it herself, there are “Too many fucking men on this island.”

Answer 2: If we want to focus on the Pirate Show rather than on the peripherical storylines, we need to go season by season. (And season 4 is special, because season 4 is war, and some characters think they are narrators, are self-aware narrators, and blood and slicing ensues.)

Season 1: Hal Gates. Yes. Take a moment to think about it. He is Flint’s Friend (the only one for a while that Flint calls by his first name, Silver does not get that, but Silver is special (aka he’s the friend who’s aware of the Friends of Flint Curse - but still WANTS the friendship)), he knows about some (all?) of Flint’s past, he does (preemptive - Billy’s FACE when Gates asks him to restrain Flint) damage control with the Richard Guthrie meeting at the very beginning, he removes his trust in Flint (because he knows more than Flint about what’s coming), he dies. - In short, Silver may have memorized one page of the book, Gates has read it, knows it by heart, made it a best-seller. (Did anyone, at any point, ship Flint/Gates? No, because Gates is, eh, not as aesthetically pleasant as someone else? But I go astray.)

Season 2: Miranda Barlow-Hamilton. This is subtle, and beautiful, and perfect, and by 2x02 I knew where it was going, but the Kiss Reveal was still fantastic in 2x05. Season 2 starts off with us thinking that Mrs. Barlow IS Flint’s origin story. It turns out that she is not (Thomas Hamilton is), but she is the narrator of it. This was, admittedly, foreshadowed by 1x04′s AWKWARDEST casually not-that-sexual sex scene (and for a moment, I swear, when I watched it, I thought I was watching some independent 80′s European film, and not Shiny New TV), later mirrored with Anne and Jack. She knows more than Flint about, well, so much everything, it’s a wonder he seems to know anything. She knows about what happened with Thomas, she knows about his feelings BETTER THAN HE DOES (because he’s all busy feeeeeeeling them), she knows about Abigail Ashe, she comes up with the Magic Peaceful Solution/Final Plotpoint that will turn to be her Tragic Violent Death. The Magic Peaceful Solution becomes the Tragic Violent Death when she realizes someone knew things that she didn’t know. (At which point ABIGAIL ASHE becomes ‘Acting Miranda’ because she writes all the good things in her journal.) -- During the first half of the season, she even seems to direct the flashbacks, casting them onto the viewer from her little house inland (aka heart of heart of Flint) like the witch she is supposed to be.

Then we get the Great Split of seasons 1-2 v. seasons 3-4. Flint loses his loves. Silver loses his leg. Given that Black Sails asks the ever-lasting Reform or Revolution question, seasons 1 and 2 are clear candidates for the reform-minded solution. (Recall Flint, in season one, walking in Eleanor’s office saying he would settle for “a friendly British governor and some universal pardons shenanigans”.) (Also flashforward to Mr Oglethorpe being described as the reform-minded man.) Seasons 3 and 4 are the revolution. Tempest, torture at maroon island, all for the cause and nothing but the cause, ”Madi, would I be enough for you?”, Long John Silver’s propaganda, culminating with the Berringer Terreur. (Another one of my crazy ideas is to try and fit Black Sails in the historiographic/quasi-mythical frame of the French Revolution. One more argument for this: the French revolution abolished the monarchy in favor of a (short-lived) constitutional democracy, which was followed by the Terror, then returned to an Emperor. Similarly, the seasons 3 and 4 are about Kings and Queens coexisting with some (short-lived) democratic pirate alliances.)

Which gives us:

Season 3: John Silver. YES. So. He is on his way to becoming Flint’s Friend, but not there yet. He still focuses on Speaking For the Men, with the downside being that speaking is now the only thing he can do. He is, and somewhat remains in season 4, the Official Oracle of what’s going on in Flint’s head. Season 3 is the story of him trying to get BETTER at his narrative. Early season 3 has him revealing to Flint how much more than him he knows (about the Urca gold) in order to assert his power as narrator. But he still knows, he realizes, relatively little about Flint himself and, unlike the other narrators, he does not already possess that knowledge but he WANTS IT. To acquire that knowledge and become full-blown narrator, he will have to, well, become so close to his character that they will become indistinguishable IN THE WOODS AT NIGHT AROUND A BOTTLE OF RUM AND A CACHE OF GEMS. He organizes the events, he produces the tale. But the tale has changed - it is not a story about a series of events any longer (Chronicles of a Revolution), but a story about a character (Tragic Idealist Biopic). At the point where it becomes obvious that this is not the story of the Pirate revolution of Nassau, but the story of Captain Flint (in the woods, with the rum and the cache), Silver stops being the narrator. He (PSEUDO) dies at the end of the season and his fate is left unknown. And, in the land of narratologic explosion that is season 4, he becomes the CHARACTER OF THE NARRATOR IN-STORY (aka Long). Come on. This is magnificient.

Season 4: Yep. Yep. My first thoughts about season 4 were that it was all over the place, that the writers were stuck trying to tie together the twelve millions storylines they had going, that everyone was changing side because The Plot demanded it. My later thoughts were that it became an artful study in fragmentation. The storylines that seemed peripherical at first became central (the Max/Anne/Jack trio fills in for the Miranda/Flint/Thomas trio, commerce (and reform) fills in for idealism). The cause exploded. The Island of Pirates has no leader and is locally managed by some, picking the pieces. So there are many narrator candidates. It can’t be Silver: he’s become the character of the narrator in-story (written in exactly this way by Billy Bones who KNOWS what Flint may not explicitly know - that the narrator is more powerful than the main protagonist, indeed that he is the only one with ANY POWER over the story). It can’t be Billy: he does have some knowledge, but it’s local and brief, and with Silver as a character of narrator, he’s got competition. (Billy is probably the postmodern salty writer who thinks he’s smart as all hell writing the writer in his own story. And turns out he’s not that smart.)

I wanted it to be Eleanor, but she’s at her most powerless, and cruelly self-aware. I wanted it to be Madi, and I think she IS the narrator of the Series of Events that hopefully leads to a revolution (but have at that point already begun to fail). But, concerning Flint’s story, the only one with the modicum of distance required to have both power over the events, more knowledge than the characters (through Weirdly Prophetic Insight) and who is not involved in the tale enough so that he’s able to tell it - is Israel Hands, CHRONICLER OF ALL-HAS-GONE-TO-HELL. He correctly identifies Silver as Long John Silver after his quasi-death. (Silver’s quasi-death, in the transformative narrative, being the threshold after which he is Long John Silver.) He sits right between him and Flint, and, big happy bear of a meta-narrative device that he is, keeps reminding Silver that the narrator is not the character, that John isn’t Long and vice versa. (He also reminds reminds Silver that Silver isn’t Flint, and Silver has a problem with that more than he has a problem not being Long.) As a bonus, he can tell the story properly because he doesn’t like the story much. (The story being Flint.) (He’s probably the grumpy editor being snarky at repetitive plotting. ‘He’s turned you around again’.)

Conclusion things: (1) Flint is not a narrator in this story. He’s a character, who has a dim awareness that his tale will be told by others, and who, at some point, chooses purposefully to surround himself with people who will tell it. (I think Flint didn’t choose Silver as a friend, he chose him as a narrator for his Glorious Fight (ALL THE ANCIENT GREEK HISTORIES WHERE GREAT KINGS HAVE SECRETARIES WITH THEM ON THE BATTLEFIELD SO THEIR TRIUMPHS CAN BE TOLD FOREVER). Silver, because he wanted accurate documentation, became very close to the main protagonist of the tale. And Flint was, once more, possibly the first time since Thomas, SURPRISED BY FRIENDSHIP/LOVE he hadn’t seen coming. Conversely, Silver paints such a feared character that he realizes, he’ll be the only one liking him. Recall the woods/rum/cache nightly conversation, and Silver being like ‘To be feared is ok, but to be feared and liked is cooler (so everyone will fear you, Captain, via my tale, while I will like you’) and Flint being like ‘*the trademark wolfish grin of death* Sounds awesome’.) -- This strengthens my idea of the Flint/Eleanor parallel. Eleanor is trying to tell her story. Flint is trying, subtle difference, but also subtle similitude, to have his story told.

(2) If Flint is a character whose origin story is Thomas, Silver is NARRATING to Madi that he IN-STORY returned the character to his origin story (the “anterior state of being” - there is a WHOLE another post for the creeping use of abstract vocabulary in this show - I think these occurrences are meta-narrative remarks, but well).

(3) The narrator is always more powerful than the character. Flint knows that (eventually). Which is why seeking out Silver as a narrator is really his first, but not last move as Deathwish Flint.

(4) I started watching Black Sails like ‘oh, a ‘historically accurate’ show with 18th century pirates who have bleached-white teeth and well-toned abs and incorrect period swearing, and, oh look, an explicit lesbian sex scene waving wildly at an intended male audience’ and I finished like ‘GAY HAPPY ENDING IN THE LAND OF NARRATOLOGIC WONDERS’ and ‘YES, JAMES, WE SHOULD ILLUMINATE OUR DARKNESSES’, and ‘ALL THE THINGS WE WRITE IN BOOKS AND THE CAPTAIN LIKES HIS BOOKS’.

(5) Re: feelings about the ending and the thwarting of revolutions. This ending is a happy ending, by all means, for Flint and Thomas and for Silver and Madi, but it’s not a good ending (unless you are, like Mr Oglethorpe, reform-minded).

[blogwhatthef-blog]

MYSTERIOUS MURDER(S): CHARLES C. MORGAN

Researching and writing this reminded me of why I absolutely love investigative blogging. This mystery started in March of 1977 and by the time we get to the end three people will be dead, a family left shattered and confused, and a reporter that followed the story of a lifetime will have a hit on his own life! In Tucson, AZ Charles C. Morgan went by the name “Chuckie” to his friends, family, and business associates. He owned an escrow company and lived the average normal life with his wife and four daughters.

Except…on March 22, 1977 Chuckie vanished after carrying two of his daughters to school. He finally stumbled back into his home in the middle of the night three nights later.

He claimed he couldn’t speak but wrote his wife (Ruth) a crazy unbelievable message claiming that somebody “painted his throat with a hallucinogenic drug.“ He wrote to her a message of torture, threats, and fear.

According to his wife, he was missing a shoe, had a plastic handcuff around one ankle, and had his hands tied together with a plastic zip tie. He asked her to move his car because he didn’t want “them” to know he had returned home. However, he would never tell her who “they” were. He also told his wife to not call the police and to not call for an ambulance.

Over the next two weeks Ruth nursed him back to health. She fed him with a dropper til he was able to talk again. He never spoke about the kidnapping except to drop hints that he was a “spy for the Treasury Department” and his life was in danger because of his statements against criminals.

After the kidnapping he became extremely paranoid. He only allowed himself to drive his daughters to and from school, and spoke with the school demanding nobody ever be allowed to pick them up.

Two months after the first disappearance Charles went missing yet again. During the days he was missing, before his body was found, his wife Ruth received an anonymous phone call. The woman on the line referred to herself as “Green Eyes”. “Green eyes” said nothing to Ruth except “Ecclesiastes 12:1-8,” the same citation her husband would later be found with - hiding in his underpants. Nobody has ever figured out the meaning of this depressing bible verse. It has never brought meaning to his murder, has never identified his killer, and only leaves more questions.

https://biblia.com/bible/niv/Eccles%2012.1-8

Remember your Creator

in the days of your youth,

before the days of trouble come

and the years approach when you will say,

“I find no pleasure in them”—

2 before the sun and the light

and the moon and the stars grow dark,

and the clouds return after the rain;

3 when the keepers of the house tremble,

and the strong men stoop,

when the grinders cease because they are few,

and those looking through the windows grow dim;

4 when the doors to the street are closed

and the sound of grinding fades;

when people rise up at the sound of birds,

but all their songs grow faint;

5 when people are afraid of heights

and of dangers in the streets;

when the almond tree blossoms

and the grasshopper drags itself along

and desire no longer is stirred.

Then people go to their eternal home

and mourners go about the streets.

6 Remember him—before the silver cord is severed,

and the golden bowl is broken;

before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,

and the wheel broken at the well,

7 and the dust returns to the ground it came from,

and the spirit returns to God who gave it.

8 “Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher.

“Everything is meaningless!”

This time he was found 11 days after his disappearance, outside of his new Mercury Cougar, in the middle of the Arizona desert, 40 miles west of Tuscon.  It was ruled a suicide even though the kill shot entered the back of his head. He had been shot with his own .357 magnum revolver. There were no fingerprints on the gun. Inside the car there was a cache of weapons and ammunition. His NEW mercury cougar had also been altered so that the doors could be locked and unlocked from the fender (remember…this was 1977! Also…if a reader knows WHY a person would do this kind of alteration please comment and let me know. I don’t understand what the point of locking and unlocking from your fender would be!?)

He was wearing a bulletproof vest at the time of death, was found with a pair of sunglasses that did not belong to him, had one of his own teeth in his pocket wrapped in a handkerchief, and had a $2 bill stuffed in his underwear, which was annotated with seven Spanish names and a Bible citation – Ecclesiastes 12:1-8. On the opposite side of the $2 Bill there was a drawing of a map. It was a map of Robles Junction and Sasabe, both are well known areas for smuggling and criminal activity.

https://biblia.com/bible/niv/Eccles%2012.1-8

After his first kidnapping Charles had told his father that if anything ever happened to him he had hidden a letter that would explain everything, and would name names. This letter was never found.

After his death, authorities discovered he had been hiding out in a west-area motel for the previous several days. An “acquaintance” told police he was trying to come up with enough cash to pay off a hit on his life. Another “acquaintance” who later admitted to being the mysterious caller “Green eyes” stated that the last time she had seen Charles alive he had had a briefcase filled with $60,000 in cash. “Green eyes” said that Charles had hoped to buy off the hit on his life. The informant gave enough personal details that the police were pretty confident she was telling the truth, at least as far as having known Morgan socially. Unfortunately, that was the last that anyone ever heard of Green Eyes, and the case went completely cold. Some people theorize that Morgan’s escrow company was a front for money laundering, and the whole thing went south. Or, maybe he really was a secret agent for the government. Or, there’s some third, even weirder explanation we haven’t guessed. I believe that would be reasonable since this case was so strange from the start, and had so many twists and turns that nobody could’ve seen coming.

Three weeks after his death two FBI agents showed up at his home demanding to search it. They tore the house apart. Its unknown what they were looking for or what things they had taken. A reporter, Don Devereux, that advocated for the family from the beginning contacted the FBI about the search and they deny ever sending agents to search the home. 

Ruth Morgan passed away in 2006. Ruth always maintained that her husband was murdered and that it was covered up by corrupt government officials and a corrupt police department. His four daughters also took on the fight for justice. They state that their father was murdered and would like to see justice brought to the person/persons responsible.

HUGE TWIST TO THE STORY: (This part gets a little confusing. While researching I had to re-read articles a few times to make sure I had the information correct and make sure I kept the case straight and accurate.) Here it goes… Don Devereux was a journalist that from the very beginning got sucked into the Charles C. Morgan case. He found it odd that Charles’ death was ruled a suicide when too kill himself, Charles would have had to have had stretch Armstrong arms! It was just crazy and implausible to think a man drove out into the desert, wore a bullet-proof vest, just to get out of his car stretch his arm behind his head/back, and shoot himself in the center of the back of his head, also leave NO fingerprints, and somehow hide the gloves he must’ve been wearing (since he left no prints) before he immediately dropped dead! Devereux investigated the case that police wanted no part of, he talked to people the cops wouldn’t make time for, and he spoke out and advocated for the Morgan family when no one else would. He kept the story in the media for decades.

During Devereux’s investigation he found evidence of Charles Morgan’s money laundering through his escrow company. Charles was also involved in gold and platinum transactions out of South Asia. Devereux also found that Charles kept duplicate records of all illegal transactions. Devereux theorized that whomever Charles was involved with found out about his shady record keeping, and wanted Charles taken out. (I haven’t found proof in my research but I’ve seen several reports that Charles did a lot of illegal business with some high ranking politicians and some extremely wealthy “business men,” and when I say “business men” I mean, wealthy mob bosses.)

On May 14, 1990 Doug Johnston left for his night shift job at a computer graphics company in Phoenix, AZ. An hour later he was found murdered in his company parking lot. Again…cops tried to rule it as a suicide. Doug had one shot to his head behind his left ear. Though the placement was better for a suicide ruling than Charles Morgan’s shot to the head, evidence was still on Doug’s side. There was no gun at the scene, no gun powder residue on his hands, and he was right-handed which made the shot to the left side of his head strange and awkward. In the end it was ruled a homicide. (At the time of Doug Johnston’s murder it was believed to be just a random, wrong place/wrong time murder, but within the next year events would play out to prove otherwise.)

In 1991 Don Devereux was contacted by Danny Casolaro, a writer from Washington D.C. regarding the evidence Devereux had about Charles’ money laundering. Devereux agreed to share all of the evidence he had uncovered. Before Devereux could mail it out, Dan Casolaro was found in a hotel bathroom. His wrists had been slashed. Yet again….a death was ruled suicide. Devereux knows it was murder, and Casolaro’s brother believes it was murder. Dan Casolaro’s brother stated that Danny was extremely squeamish around blood. He said IF his brother was going to commit suicide slashing his wrists would NOT have been the method used.

Six months after Casolaro’s death Devereux learned that there had been a hit placed on him. He learned that Doug Johnston’s murder in 1990 was a case of mistaken identity, and was meant for him.

Though names have not been released, a CIA officer, and an informant for Israeli Intelligence have confirmed the hit for Don Devereux’s life.

Charles Morgan, Doug Johnston, and Dan Casolaro’s murders have never been solved.

SOURCES:

http://tucson.com/news/local/crime/cold-case-strange-evidence-found-in-on-near-man-s/article_e84a1034-c078-5a43-81a1-e602f52eda02.html

https://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/4m3sq3/the_unbelievably_bizarre_case_of_charles_chuck/

http://unsolvedmysteries.wikia.com/wiki/Charles_Morgan

http://thesop.org/story/20140407/an-unsolved-mysteries-episode-charles-morgan-throws-you-down-a-spooky-rabbit-hole-with-zero-bottom.html

https://unsolved.com/gallery/chuck-morgan/

http://unsolvedmysteries.wikia.com/wiki/Doug_Johnston

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