#Moths have no business being this fearless

[euryalex]

Just nearly lost an argument with a moth

[sysirauta]

A few dragons that was an accidental project a few years back. The point was to make small, simpleish color + nature themed dragons technically wyverns I know. It got a bit out of hand but it's a good collection.

Watercolor paintings.

Infoblurbs and dragon names in order under the cut.

Acidic Leaf Dragon: As far as I know, it indeed glows in the dark. Despite of being rather small and looking slightly like some plant, it bites bites back nastily if disturbed and causes glowing and not easily healing wounds. It usually warns before biting anybody, but its furious warnings are not often taken seriously, mainly because it sounds much like a desert rain frog.

Autumn Leaf Dragon: Another minuscule majestic beast. It looks like it could be from autumnal maple tree. Only thing what it has with maples, is that it likes maple sap and gnaws holes to trees. Maple syrup harvesters think it is a pest.

Red Thorn Dragon: Small in size, furious by nature, this miniature beast is what you don't want to encounter from your rose garden. Its neck is covered in sharp thorns and it bites nastily when disturbed. Despite of everything, it is not toxic and eats many harmful insects out of its way.

Royal Anemone Dragon: Swift and agile flyer, the anemone dragon is specialized catching bigger preys like large crickets and even unfortunate tiny rodents and birds. Somewhere where this dragon is plentiful, locals call it with less honorable name "pansy-fancy" due to its pansy-colored appearance,

Sunfield Dragon: Miniature feathered wyvern which blends well withing sunflowers, can be spotted eating sunflower seeds. Generally docile but pecks if you try touch it all sudden.

Birch Dragon: Small beast which resides in leafy lush forests. It is an odd thing which headbutts and pierces birch trees with its single horn, then feeds the tree sap. When it can be careful with its horn amongst its own kind, it uses it as a weapon when it feels threatened.

Mistfall Dragon: This tiny dragon's feathery scales shine like water surface in the evenings and nights, when it is swooping around catching moths and moth-hunting bats, which didn't expect to be the lunch as well. Its horns are merely decorative, having longer and curlier horns show its good health to its own kind.

Cyan Petals Dragon: This petit dragon flutters on open flower fields, catching unfortunate butterflies. Its flight is erratic, similar to butterflies. It has reflective scales and in sunlight it shines in hues of turquoise and deeper blues.

Rhododendron Dragon: Another minimal dragon with the red thorn dragon which thrives amongst roses. This species claims a few rose bushes as its territory and protects them fiercely. Despite of its size, it will attack anybody who come too close its roses and is seemingly fearless.

Orchid Dragon: Not as hissy as some of other mini dragons, the orchid dragon mostly minds its own business but it appreciates personal space and gets defensive if approaching too close. It can't fly away very fast, so it just spreads its wings to make very (often a bit too adorable) threatening pose.

Nightglow Dragon: A small truly nocturnal dragon, which is often seen around same areas as Silver Swift. It can be a terror for small rodents and bats, but even it needs to keep an eye on bigger owls.

Willow Dragon: Partly fluffy tiny dragon, which nests amongst willows. When it feels threatened, it poofs up all its fur to look bigger. It can endure some cold but rather moves to warmer areas during winter.

Golden Beetle Dragon: When this small shiny dragon needs to hide, it can change its coat color to glossy brownish green to blend surroundings better. But when it flutters around with its full glory, its highly reflective coat cannot remain unnoticed.

Silver Swift Dragon: Small and agile in flight, this shiny dragon races with swallows and catches them for food. Its scales reflect light like silver.

Fool's Copper Dragon: Not actual mineral dragon like the big real dragons it imitates, its coat is merely keratinous and colored like copper. A little more brave that majority of miniature dragons, it can sometimes land close to a passerbying person just out of curiosity.

Brass Fire Dragon: Nothing to do with real fire, this hardy tiny dragon was named due to its living range on hot areas and its brass-colored almost armor like scaly coat which makes it resistant even against fire ants and scorpion stings. It attacks head-on towards its prey and mauls it to death effectively. Occasionally it eats cactus fruits and its attack technic is just the same even against plants.

Conifer Dragon: Tiny beast which lives in coniferous forests, looking for pinecones to eat or pecking out meaty worms from trees like a woodpecker. It has a good disguise against tree bark. Occasional it fights with squirrels and woodpeckers.

Rainbow Fly Dragon: This colourful miniature dragon gets probably all the attention wherever it flutters. Its bright coat is known to scare bigger predators, as anything with these colors surely is not edible.

[chocolate-parfait]

Goddess MC - ikesen headcanons (Nobunaga, Kenshin & Kennyo)

Nobunaga

Only a miracle could have saved him from the situation he was in at Honnoji, and you came by and rescued him!

He brings you back to the castle with him because he's interested in your bold behavior and fearless way of speaking When he actually gets a good look at you he notices your looks are definitely something out of this world. Two birds with one stone! he thinks to himself. The more he discovers about you, the more you become a mystery to him

Through time he also comes to see that you bring extremely good fortune to him, something no simple lucky charm could manage, but he dismisses it as pure coincidence, despite some doubts already forming in his mind

Then one day something happens. You shield him from enemy attacks in a battle, repelling them with your powers. At this point he outright asks you whether you are favored by the Heavens and when he discovers the truth, he lets out a hearty laugh, proud of having you by his side. It's an enormous boost to his ego, although he's still a very down to earth person

He can't rely solely on your powers. He will keep you by his side, that's true, but he will still fight to achieve his goal with his own efforts

Sometimes he can't understand why someone as cursed and hated as him, the demon king of the sixth heaven, has been blessed with someone like you; was it fate that brought you together or had he entered the gods' graces somehow? Anyhow, what's most important is that loves you so much he'd sell his soul to the devil if it meant making you, his goddess, happy

Kenshin

As we all know Kenshin doesn't like women; women are fragile and he is the cursed God of War, he'd end up hurting them for sure. In the beginning he's like that with you too, a frosted blade too sharp to be touched

He notices your beauty right away, and that's all the more reason why he doesn't want you to get close to him, he'd regret ruining your beautiful appearance, but his plan backfires on him because he finds himself drawn to you like a moth to the flames

Then, after you spot him on the battlefield from atop Nobunaga's horse, you notice his body is covered in small cuts and bruises from the long fighting. When nights fall, you decide to sneak out from the Oda camp and go meet him to tend to his injuries. When he sees you amazement spreads all over his face; he had seen you with the enemy commander that day, but he would have never expected such a dangerous move on your part. Maybe he misjudged you and you're actually way stronger than what you seem. As you proceed to heal him with your powers and reveal your identity to the man, contrasting emotions battle themselves in Kenshin's heart; he's glad you're an immortal being far stronger than normal humans, but at the same time he's afraid someone will come and snatch you away from his arms, someone he could never win against, the gods themselves

In the end, you convince him no such thing will happen and you will stay by his side no matter what, gracing the ill-fated God of War with the ultimate blessing he did not know he needed nor wanted so much

You two become an actual legend and people are terrified at the thought of rebelling against your will; never provoke the wrath of the gods!

Kennyo

From the first moment he spots you, he can feel the pure and unstained aura that surrounds you, and after discovering that you're currently staying in the den of the devil himself, he thinks that it is no place for an angelic creature such as you to stay; at the same time though, he'll dismiss the thought, he has much more important things to think about and it certainly isn't his business

But fate keeps making the two of you meet, and the more he spends time with you the more he feels his dead and cold heart shake under the ashes of hatred in which it had been buried for so long; it's a warm feeling that makes him uncomfortable, how can you make him feel alive after he had killed all his emotions to achieve the revenge he so longed for?

When he realizes he's falling in love he shuts you away from his life. He can't let himself be happy after the pain his brethren went through and he cant bring himself to ruin your life with someone as ugly and rotten as him

But a goddess' charms are too much for a simple man to resist! And the more he tries to stay away the more he finds his heart beating rapidly at the thought of you, to the point where his mind is filled with you only

Please give this man some love,,, approach him first and make him understand he can be happy

You'll probably have to force a new perspective into his life, either that or work actively against his own plot against the Oda. Show him that his fellow conspirators are only following him because they want to be with him, if he told them the word they'd give up all the hatred they have inside and move on

[ucflibrary]

Women’s History Month began as a week-long celebration in Sonoma, California in 1978 which was centered around International Women’s Day on March 8. A year later during a women’s history conference at Sarah Lawrence College, participants learned how successful the week was and decided to initiate similar in their own areas. President Carter issued the first proclamation for a national Women’s History Week in 1980. In 1987, Congress (after being petitioned by the National Women’s History Project) passed Pub. L. 100-9 designating March as Women’s History Month. U.S. Presidents have issued proclamations on Women’s History Month since 1988.

 The Libraries will be hosting two virtual events to celebrate Women’s History Month for 2021. The first is a talk by Nicholson School of Communication faculty member, Dr. Kimberly Voss, called “Make No Mistake, Florida is Crucial”: Sen. Lori Wilson and the Equal Rights Amendment, which discusses efforts to ratify the ERA in Florida. The second is a panel discussion called Women & Academia in the Time of COVID where five UCF faculty and administrators will discuss the impact of the COVID pandemic and remote learning on their teaching, scholarship, service loads and personal lives. Both events are free and open to the public. Click on the links to register to attend.

 We have created a list of books about women, both history and fiction, suggested by staff. Please click on the read more link below to see the full book list with descriptions and catalog links. And don’t forget to stop by the John C. Hitt Library to browse the featured bookshelf on the main floor near the Research & Information Desk for additional Women’s History Month books.

 A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton Porter Elnora Comstock grows up on the banks of Limberlost Swamp in Indiana with her bitter mother, Katharine. Unable to afford an education, Elnora develops a plan to sell artifacts and moths from the swamp. Suggested by Pat Tiberii, Interlibrary Loan and Document Delivery Services

 A Woman of No Importance: the untold story of the American spy who helped win World War II by Sonia Purnell Based on new and extensive research, Sonia Purnell has for the first time uncovered the full secret life of Virginia Hall--an astounding and inspiring story of heroism, spycraft, resistance, and personal triumph over shocking adversity. It is the breathtaking story of how one woman's fierce persistence helped win the war. Suggested by Dawn Tripp, Research & Information Services

 All the Horrors of War: a Jewish girl, a British doctor, and the liberation of Bergen-Belsen by Bernice Lerner Drawing on a wealth of sources, including Hughes's papers, war diaries, oral histories, and interviews, this gripping volume combines scholarly research with narrative storytelling in describing the suffering of Nazi victims, the overwhelming presence of death at Bergen-Belsen, and characters who exemplify the human capacity for fortitude. Lerner, Rachel's daughter, has special insight into the torment her mother suffered. The first book to pair the story of a Holocaust victim with that of a liberator, it compels readers to consider the full, complex humanity of both. Suggested by Katie Kirwan, Acquisitions & Collections

 Data Feminism by Catherine D'Ignazio and Lauren F. Klein This book offers strategies for data scientists seeking to learn how feminism can help them work toward justice, and for feminists who want to focus their efforts on the growing field of data science. But it is about much more than gender. It is about power, about who has it and who doesn't, and about how those differentials of power can be challenged and changed. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 Field o' My Dreams: the poetry of Gene Stratton-Porter compiled and edited by Mary DeJong Obuchowski In her introduction to Porter’s work, Obuchowski argues that the natural and spiritual themes of Porter’s poetry mirror the self-same concerns regarding nature and social issues found in her fiction and nonfiction. Reflecting and in some cases reacting against, current social attitudes at a time of political and demographic change, she was in demand as a columnist for popular magazines and a widely read fiction writer. Porter wielded considerable influence over her reading public, and in that role she acted as a reformer, particularly regarding the environment but also on behalf of women, children, and education. Suggested by Pat Tiberii, Interlibrary Loan and Document Delivery Services

 Finish the Fight!: the brave and revolutionary women who fought for the right to vote written by the Staff of The New York Times Who was at the forefront of women's right to vote? We know a few famous names, like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, but what about so many others from diverse backgrounds—black, Asian, Latinx, Native American, and more—who helped lead the fight for suffrage? On the hundredth anniversary of the historic win for women's rights, it's time to celebrate the names and stories of the women whose stories have yet to be told. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 Founding Sisters and the Nineteenth Amendment by Eleanor Clift In this riveting account, political analyst Eleanor Clift chronicles the many thrilling twists and turns of the suffrage struggle and shows how the issues and arguments that surrounded the movement still reverberate today. Beginning with the Seneca Falls Woman’s Rights Convention of 1848, Clift introduces the movement’s leaders, recounts the marches and demonstrations, and profiles the opposition–antisuffragists, both men and women, who would do anything to stop women from getting the vote. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Free Food for Millionaires by Min Jin Lee Casey Han's four years at Princeton gave her many things, "But no job and a number of bad habits." Casey's parents, who live in Queens, are Korean immigrants working in a dry cleaner, desperately trying to hold on to their culture and their identity. Their daughter, on the other hand, has entered into rarified American society via scholarships. But after graduation, Casey sees the reality of having expensive habits without the means to sustain them. As she navigates Manhattan, we see her life and the lives around her, culminating in a portrait of New York City and its world of haves and have-nots. This fresh exploration of the complex layers we inhabit both in society and within ourselves. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

 From Equal Suffrage to Equal Rights: Alice Paul and the National Woman's Party, 1910-1928 by Christine A. Lunardini The woman's movements and work in American history during the second two decades, was dramatic. It dealt with the past, with pageants and politics; with different organizations and with conflict from within. It took on the Democrats, founded a National Woman's Party; it waged a home front war. It dealt with prison, and resolution. It went from equal suffrage to equal rights. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Indelicacy by Amina Cain A cleaning woman at a museum of art nurtures aspirations to do more than simply dust the paintings around her. She dreams of having the liberty to explore them in writing, and so must find a way to win herself the time and security to use her mind. She escapes her lot by marrying a rich man, but having gained a husband, a house, high society, and a maid, she finds that her new life of privilege is no less constrained. Not only has she taken up different forms of time-consuming labor - social and erotic - but she is now, however passively, forcing other women to clean up after her. Perhaps another and more drastic solution is necessary? Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

 See Jane Win: the inspiring story of the women changing American politics by Caitlin Moscatello After November 8, 2016, first came the sadness; then came the rage, the activism, and the protests; and, finally, for thousands of women, the next step was to run for office—many of them for the first time. More women campaigned for local or national office in the 2018 election cycle than at any other time in US history, challenging accepted notions about who seeks power and who gets it. Journalist Caitlin Moscatello reported on this wave of female candidates for New York magazine's The Cut, Glamour, and Elle. In this book, she further documents this pivotal time in women's history. Closely following four candidates throughout the entire process, from the decision to run through Election Day, readers are taken inside their exciting, winning campaigns and the sometimes thrilling, sometimes brutal realities of running for office while female. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Taking on the Trust: the epic battle of Ida Tarbell and John D. Rockefeller by Steve Weinberg Long before the rise of mega-corporations like Wal-Mart and Microsoft, Standard Oil controlled the oil industry with a monopolistic force unprecedented in American business history. Undaunted by the ruthless power of its owner, John D. Rockefeller, a fearless and ambitious reporter named Ida Minerva Tarbell confronted the company known simply as “The Trust.” Through her peerless fact gathering and devastating prose, Tarbell, a muckraking reporter at McClure’s magazine, pioneered the new practice of investigative journalism. Her shocking discoveries about Standard Oil and Rockefeller led, inexorably, to a dramatic confrontation during the opening decade of the twentieth century that culminated in the landmark 1911 Supreme Court antitrust decision breaking up the monopolies and forever altering the landscape of modern American industry. Suggested by Dawn Tripp, Research & Information Services

 The Book of Gutsy Women: favorite stories of courage and resilience by Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton Hillary Rodham Clinton and her daughter, Chelsea, share the stories of the gutsy women who have inspired them—women with the courage to stand up to the status quo, ask hard questions, and get the job done. Ensuring the rights and opportunities of women and girls remains a big piece of the unfinished business of the twenty-first century. While there's a lot of work to do, we know that throughout history and around the globe women have overcome the toughest resistance imaginable to win victories that have made progress possible for all of us. That is the achievement of each of the women in this book. To us, they are all gutsy women -- leaders with the courage to stand up to the status quo, ask hard questions, and get the job done. So in the moments when the long haul seems awfully long, we hope you will draw strength from these stories. Because if history shows one thing, it's that the world needs  gutsy women. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 The Good Fight by Shirley Chisholm Chisholm describes being the first woman, and first black woman, to run for President, and how politicians operate. She writes about her relationships with black political leaders Walter Fauntroy, Louis Stokes, Ron Dellums, and Julian Bond. She gives her views on what direction black politics should take in the years to come. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Unapologetic: a Black, queer, and feminist mandate for radical movements by Charlene A. Carruthers Drawing on Black intellectual and grassroots organizing traditions, including the Haitian Revolution, the US civil rights movement, and LGBTQ rights and feminist movements, Carruthers challenges all of us engaged in the social justice struggle to make the movement for Black liberation more radical, more queer, and more feminist. She offers a flexible model of what deeply effective organizing can be, anchored in the Chicago model of activism, which features long-term commitment, cultural sensitivity, creative strategizing, and multiple cross-group alliances. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Unmarriageable by Soniah Kamal In this retelling of Pride and Prejudice set in modern-day Pakistan, Alys Binat has sworn never to marry--until an encounter with one Mr. Darsee at a wedding makes her reconsider. A scandal and vicious rumor in the Binat family have destroyed their fortune and prospects for desirable marriages, but Alys, the second and most practical of the five Binat daughters, has found happiness teaching English literature to schoolgirls. Knowing that many of her students won't make it to graduation before dropping out to marry and start having children, Alys teaches them about Jane Austen and her other literary heroes and hopes to inspire them to dream of more. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 6

“Ladybug said I was awesome.” Not entirely true, but Queen Bee never could stand silence. “She said that I’d made huge improvements.”

Koira didn’t even glance her way. “And?”

“And?” Queen Bee repeated as they arced around the Eiffel Tower. “And a compliment to me is a compliment to you. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Compliments from Ladybug are meaningless” Koira said as they began the second half of their patrol. 

Outrage boiled up in Queen Bee, for once on behalf of someone else. “Are you seriously saying you think you’re better than her?”

“I’m saying she thinks too much,” Koira said, coming to an abrupt stop on a slanted roof. “I’m saying this whole mess could have been avoided if she’d just asked for help. I’m saying Ladybug doesn’t like me, I don’t like her, and it’s fine. And I’m saying if you worried less about what Ladybug thought of you and more about what you wanted, you’d be even better.”

There was so much to unpack there, Queen Bee didn’t even know where to start. “What mess are you talking about?” Her heart beat painfully in her chest. There could only be one mess he could mean. She’d stupidly thought he of all people would never hold it against her. She’d thought they were the same.

But Koira just laughed, a bitter sound without any real humour. “There’d be no point in telling you.”

Queen Bee stomped her foot in frustration. “Why? You think I’m so enamoured with Ladybug I’ll just take her side? Or am I too stupid to understand?”

Finally, finally, Koira met her eyes. The usual disdain had vanished. In its place was…pity?

“You won’t be able to hold onto it,” he finally said as he began running again. “It’s a waste of time.”

Unease swirled through Queen Bee as she followed, but it was overwhelmed by hurt. He really did think she was stupid. He really did. 

“Why do you even bother with me, then,” she choked out. Damnit, she was not going to cry. Especially because Felix had hurt her feelings. As if she cared about what Adrien’s cranky cousin thought of her anyway. As if she cared what any of them thought! She was Chloe Bourgeois! She had beauty, style, grace! She was the real deal; Felix was just too blind to see it. And that was hardly her fault.

“Ugh,” Koira groaned, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “This is why I wanted to wash my hands of this whole thing. I work better alone.” But still, he stopped, dragging Queen Bee into the thing shadow of a chimney. 

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he said, scowling. “But you won’t remember. The team is at a disadvantage because of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s choices. Everyone’s identity is one mistake away from being revealed.”

Even as he spoke, Queen Bee was having trouble remembering the words. She managed to hold onto them - barely. “Speaking from experience, your identity being known isn’t the problem. Hawk Moth had an advantage when the Miraculous were being dropped off, but now that we hold onto them full time - ”

“He can come and get them any time he wants,” Koira interrupted, starting off again. 

Queen Bee followed, at a loss. He wasn’t wrong. Hawk Moth had done that very thing to her when he’d targeted her parents. He’d known she’d do anything to save them. And it was her fault most of their team was now at the same disadvantage. But…

“What were they supposed to do?” Queen Bee said at last as she followed her partner through an alley. “What would you have done?”

She was close enough she could see him scowl. He was quiet so long she didn’t think he would answer, but then he spoke.

“It’s impossible to know.” He sped up. “I’ve never loved someone that much.”

Neither had she. She hadn’t even loved herself that much. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Queen Bee finally said. “It’s done. The only thing that matters is whether or not you trust them.”

Koira glanced back again, a half-smile on his face. “Not really,” he said, “And if you knew what I do, you wouldn’t either. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we have the same goals. That’s enough for me.”

Maybe it was her recent experiences with Ladybug, or the fact that she now knew who wore the earrings, but Queen Bee found herself agreeing with Koira. She trusted Ladybug and Chat Noir to do their best, but around each other…

Love was a weapon. Her parents had taught her that. It had only ever led to pain. 

Queen Bee was so engrossed in her warring thoughts that she nearly hit a weathervane, narrowly avoiding it only by throwing herself into a graceful arc over the obstruction.

“Where are we?” she demanded as she glanced around. “This isn’t our normal route.”

“No,” Koira agreed. “I thought it was time to do more than just damage control.”

Queen Bee scowled at her partner. “Meaning?”

“Why are we always cleaning up Hawk Moth’s messes?” Koira said as he led her down another street. “Why are we always being chased instead of chasing?”

“Like, a million reasons.” Trust was one thing, but questioning how things were done… it wasn’t perfect but it worked. “One, we don’t know anything about him. Two, he, like, never shows up in public. Three, we don’t know anything about him.”

“Don’t we?” Koira said, finally coming to a stop on the roof of a random building. “After all, Chat Noir thought he didn’t know anything about Ladybug until he had to find her.”

Queen Bee opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue as her heart beat once, then twice. A tone rang briefly in her ear, distracting her, until she abruptly refocused on Koira shaking his head, the last few seconds a hazy blur.

“We just think we don’t know anything about him,” Koira continued as though nothing had happened as he pulled a loose tile out. “Truth is, LB and Chat Noir have been so busy cleaning up they haven’t had time to do anything else. But now they have us.”

“Are you going to stop being cryptic or do I have to continue to pretend to be interested in whatever you’re rambling about?” Queen Bee snapped. 

Koira scowled, but leaned back to show her the map he’d pulled out from under the tile, marked with dozens of red dots. “Do you know how criminal profiling started?”

“Like…instagram accounts for bad guys?”

“Profiling.” Koira pointed to the map. “Where detectives and scientists would put together a profile on their bad guy based on the data of their crimes to help them catch them when they didn’t even have an eye-witness to go on. It started when investigators would mark where suspects carried out their crimes. More often than not, the crimes would take place in a radius around where the suspect did the deed. They didn’t like to go too far from home, but they didn’t like to be too close, either. Too obvious. Problem is, you’re left with a nice little target on your head that anyone can find if they just notice the pattern.”

Queen Bee frowned at the map. “But that doesn’t look like anything. There’s dots all over Paris.”

“But just Paris,” Koira said, splaying his gloved hand over the map. “So we know he’s probably in the city.”

“Puh-lease! He’s after the Miraculous, right? Which is where Ladybug and Chat Noir are. So he’s creating akumas here. That’s all that proves. After all, you’re not from here.”

“He has to be close,” Koira insisted. “The Miraculous have limits. He wouldn’t be able to feel negative emotions from too far away.”

“Not necessarily,” Queen Bee said, crouching closer to the map for a better look. “The horse miraculous and rabbit miraculous have no limits on distance, temporal or physical. He akumatized a villain in the United States just a few months ago.”

Koira huffed, running a hand through his hair. “This is why I bother with you.”

Queen Bee blinked over at him. “What?”

“You’re so combative.” He traced an invisible line from dot to dot. “You just love to be right.” His hand abruptly froze on the map as he looked over at her. “I see things more clearly with you.”

Queen Bee could feel every nerve in her body tingle as those green eyes bored into hers. So similar, but so different. Amber flecks instead of blue. But looking at Adrien had never made her feel like this, like every nerve in her body was on fire.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” she whispered. “He would want to be here, to get his hands on the Miraculous as soon as possible. Maybe not when everything first started, but now…”

“He’s appeared in the city,” Koira said, but his gaze didn’t stray from her face. “He saved Mayura when she was in danger. He wouldn’t have been fast enough if he’d been elsewhere.”

“So he’s here,” Queen Bee repeated, finally breaking his gaze to scour the map again, but no pattern revealed itself.

“Somewhere. We just have to flush him out.” Koira paused, tracing more invisible lines. “It might take some…bonding time.”

Queen Bee made a face. “Bonding time? With…?”

Koira barked a laugh as he caught her meaning. “God, no. I meant you with our fearless leader and me with my dear cousin. There’s a pattern here; we just need more details. I’m betting the wonder twins have just been too enamoured with one another to see it. But you and I can probably find it, or some clues, to start to form a picture.”

“Oh. Right.” She was definitely not stung that he didn’t want to hang out with her. She was just embarrassed to have jumped to conclusions. That was it. “Well, I must warn you, the Lady’s not my biggest fan. She might be suspicious.”

Koira glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Trust me: play your cards right and she’ll give you just about anything. I, on the other hand, have no such trump card. The cat will have his back up.”

But Queen Bee bit her lip. “Maybe it would be better to just tell them.” Striking out on her own, not trusting Ladybug had been what had caused all her problems in the first place. 

“Answer me this,” Koira said, turning to face her. “Do you honestly think they’ll let us do this if we say anything?”

No. No, they wouldn’t. They’d be afraid of the consequences. Queen Bee was afraid of the consequences. But she was beginning to be more afraid of what she already had to lose. A sense of urgency rose up in her, nudging at her in a way she couldn’t quite grasp. She breathed through the panic, letting it guide her to a conclusion.

“Once we find him,” Queen Bee said at last, “We tell them, before we do anything.” 

“Deal,” Koira said, reaching for his map. “I would have anyway. I’ve seen first-hand the consequences of taking Hawk Moth on without everyone on board. But until then, this stays between us.”

Queen Bee stood, arms crossed. “As if I’ll even remember what house this is after we leave,” she scoffed.

But she would. She’d memorized the house across the way and the name of the street. She might not get it on the first try, but if she had to, she could probably find it again. She was done, she decided. She was done letting Hawk Moth jerk her around. She was done having her life ruined over and over again because she was afraid. And she was done being on defense. 

And she wanted it, she realized. More than anything, she wanted Hawk Moth’s head on a platter. It had been months since he’d last manipulated her, but the wounds were still fresh, and stung more than she remembered. 

Queen Bee wanted her life back.

And Hawk Moth was going to damn well give it to her, even if she had to chase him through all of Paris to get it.

[sxint]

🥳 most memorable party you’ve been to + 🤞 most memorable lie you’ve told + 🧲 favourite trait you find attractive in others

🥳 most memorable party you’ve been to

The party Saint had met his first love, Sacha Tarasov, on a rooftop party in the center of Paris.

The evening was hosted by mutual friends, wealthy and influential entrepreneurs starting a new business venture together which pulled Saint and Sacha there like a moth to a flame.

Saint was captivated by them at first sight, the sort of rush of endorphins only love mixed with other concoctions could produce. It's memorable only because of that, only because in his 19-year-old brain he'd looked at Sacha and thought it was the beginning of forever.

And every party with them after that sits in the back of Saint's mind too, the feeling of infinity that was quickly ripped from his reach when Sacha declared what they shared wasn't love, or deserving anything worth having.

🧲 favourite trait you find attractive in others

Someone that is fearless and in touch with their emotions.

Saint finds it attractive, and fascinating, to watch other people be able to show him their emotions and bare a heart on their sleeve. Mainly, because it's something that he struggles with.

He thinks that it's an intense indicator of a person's bravery when they are able to unapologetically be themselves without the fear of being judged.

Brunettes, also

[theelvenhaven]

Being pregnant with Celegorm’s child

- The moment Celegorm finds out that you are pregnant with his child he is ecstatic! 

- He expresses it with great grandiose, like he does with everything else, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around joyously.

-  Immediately he tells Curufin of the news, bringing you along with him as he can’t wait to share it with his partner in crime.

- If we are being completely honest its just the news he has been waiting to finally hear from you. 

- I concur fully with other peoples headcanons on him having a breeding kink, so the anticipation has honestly probably been killing him. 

- At the beginning stages he is very relaxed, having you still come along with him for hunts but he is a lot more mindful and less likely to leave you high and dry like he usually likes to do for several hours.

- Celegorm ,while he won’t admit it, is concerned by all the morning sickness, and spends a little extra time with you after an episode to make sure that you are okay. 

- He secretly despises your mood swings as understanding as he tries to portray himself, it’s like a mine field and it drives him crazy that you are not predictable in the slightest. 

- Celegorm does understand you can’t help it, but the fact that one minute you are blazing with fury at him, then the next reduced to tears and then laughing is frustrating. 

- Once your bump begins to show, Celegorm is like a moth drawn to a flame and he keeps you very busy if you allow for the intense intimacy

- He really cannot help himself, knowing that you’re pregnant by him and physically seeing it, it’s just added fuel to the already smoldering fire. 

- In typical Celegorm fashion, he will appear aloof to you about his drive to protect you but in reality he is watching your every move secretly.

- First by asking Curufin and Celebrimbor to fill him in every now and again, and then the bigger you get, with guards who might have just been passing by in the hallway. 

- You hunting with him absolutely will not happen once your bump begins to show, Eru forbid if something went wrong and you got injured. 

- As much as he knows that you might hate being confined to just the gardens its not something he will budge on.

- In turn he will try and go on less hunting trips or stop going on such long ones, that way you don’t feel so left out. 

- When the baby finally arrives, having had four younger siblings and being so fearless, he is quick to hold the baby at the first and every opportunity. 

- He compliments them openly about how they will one day be just as great a hunter as he, and already makes promise to take them out on as many hunts as they could possibly ever want. 

- His drive to keep you both protected increases tenfold while they’re so little and you’re recovering, and he quickly becomes snappy and very sarcastic with the healers. 

- Celegorm is greedy for their attention, and he will argue with you over when he can hold them.

- If he can’t hold them, Celegorm goes as far as to lay his head on your chest while they are feeding and will look down at them to speak with them or just admire them, with absolutely no shame whatsoever that he is hogging your time with the baby. 

- Which it’s all fun and games until you’re engorged and he wants to put his hard head on your sore chest.

- Celegorms favorite thing to do with the baby is wearing the baby in a wrap, that way he can still hold them and continue out on regular activities (within reason). 

- And when you have them strapped to your chest in the wrap, which will probably be often, he is once more like a moth drawn to a flame and wants nothing more than to soak every moment of you three being together.

- If you press he will absolutely take you and the baby hunting ONLY if he is completely positive it is safe to be hunting, you’re more likely to get away with this in Valinor than anywhere else.

- He will have the baby strapped to your chest in the wrap making sure its nice and snug and that they are safe before you head out and he will spend the whole hunt with you both, undeniably distracted.

- Celegorm loves you both and will make sure that there will always be ways to keep the three of you together.

[thewhumperinwhite]

Café: Used Car Lot (1)

OkAY this is two parts AGAIN bc everything I write has to be obnoxiously long.

Previous: Teaser 1, Teaser 2, Hospital/Squad Car, Empty Bar

@whumpitywhumpwhump

TW for: hints at Bad Dad Feelings, trauma-induced low self worth.

“You’re crazy,” Sol says conversationally. Just to make sure they’re clear on this.

The rain has turned into an icy, half-solid sleet, and he’s crouched in the alley beside the bar with his head bent against the cold, cutting mess, but he hears Kent sigh and senses rather than sees him roll his eyes.

“I wish you wouldn’t use that word,” Kent says, kind of prissily, as far as Sol’s concerned.

Sol tips his head, considering. “Sorry, I guess. Do you like ‘insane’ better?”

Kent sighs again, sounding put-upon. “I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“I didn’t say I was,” Sol says, which is true; he hasn’t decided anything yet. “I’m just following you until you can get a ride, that’s all.” Speaking of which, it’s dark, and goddamn cold out here, and the sooner they get moving, the better. Sol readjusts his hands on his weapon and leans around the corner of the building to peer down the street. He doesn’t see anybody moving around, but it’s hard to be sure in all this damn rain.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, either,” Kent says, although of course he hasn’t exactly told Sol not to come, either. 

Sol turns back to raise an eyebrow at him. “You know how to hotwire a car?”

Kent fidgets, his hands shoved deep in his pockets— there was only one pair of gloves in the lost-and-found. “Of course not.”

“Then you should be grateful I’m doing this much. Now stop whining, before I change my mind.

Kent scowls. It might be more effective if he didn’t look so ridiculous. Despite Kent’s protest that it was stealing, Sol had effectively bullied him into looting the closet in the break room, and was pleased to find a perfectly functional, if slightly moth-eaten, black peacoat, and offered it to Kent on the grounds that he would slow the whole operation down by freezing to death in his torn hospital-issue tee. There was a pair of gloves, too, which Kent absolutely refused to take on the grounds that Sol “needed them more”— whatever that means— and Sol pried one of the thick wooden legs off the shitty handmade coffee table. It isn’t exactly classy, but with a little effort he thinks it’ll make a serviceable club, and it feels good to have its weight in his good hand.

He suggested that Kent should take one too, obviously, and the blonde paled visibly under the bruises on his face.

“I don’t want one,” he said firmly, and from the look on his face you’d have thought Sol had suggested he stove his own grandmother’s head in with it.

“It’s for self defense, dumbass. Don’t you wanna be able to protect yourself?” Sol had said, annoyed, and Kent had actually wrinkled his broken nose at him.

“Not like that,” he said, and at this point Sol had more or less stopped arguing with him.

He’s still— kind of uncomfortable about it, though. A little.

When Kent leans around him to look down the street himself, Sol puts out a hand to stop him, and glares.

“Okay,” he says. “I just wanna make sure we’re clear, here.”

Kent sits back on his heels and waits for him to get to the point, crossing his arms. Sol’s frown deepens.

“I ain’t your babysitter. Okay? You do something stupid, I’m not gonna sweep dramatically to your rescue. I’m only going this far because I can’t think of a single better thing to do at the moment. Understand?”

For a second, Sol can’t really read the look on Kent’s face. Then he relaxes into a slightly confused smile, like Sol’s just explained something really obvious and Kent isn’t sure why he bothered. “Yeah. Got it. Are we just gonna sit here all night, or do you have a plan, Fearless Leader?”

Sol stares at him. Either Kent Graves is the biggest goddamn fool he’s ever met, or Sol just doesn’t understand him at all. Or both, he guesses.

It’s probably both.

“Okay,” Sol says, turning back to squint down the street. “I don’t see anybody movin’ around out there, do you?”

Kent shakes his head. “No, nothing. You, ah— you do have a plan, right?”

Sol shoots him an irritated look. “Of course I have a plan. There’s a place at the end of this street that sells used cars, so there should be plenty to choose from that are still in good shape. And,” he says, heading off Kent’s slightly guilty look before the blonde can whine about stealing, which sounds like the sort of thing he’d do, “they don’t really belong to anybody yet, so it’s not like we’re depriving anybody else of their transportation. Okay, your sainted highness?”

Kent rolls his eyes at that, but he does look somewhat mollified.

Squaring his shoulders— he’s not scared, but there’s nothing wrong with being a little nervous, that’s just basic survival instincts— Sol straightens and slips around the corner of the building, sticking close to the wall. If there is anybody out there, he wants to be sure he sees them before they see him.

“Okay,” he whispers over his shoulder. “I think it’s clear. Let’s go.” He scampers off down the street, ducking into alleys and storefronts to make his path less linear. He doesn’t look behind him to see if Kent is following; if he isn’t he can escort his goddamn self.

He’s focusing on running as quietly as possible, and scanning the street with alert suspicion when he stops— and listening to the splash of Kent’s footsteps behind him; the kid moves with a certain grace, but not a lot of quiet, apparently— when Kent takes the opportunity of one of his momentary stops to pant in a low voice against his ear, “C— Can I ask you a question— Sol?”

Sol pauses his scan of the street to look back over his shoulder. “What— now?” he asks, kind of incredulously. He can tell Kent is out of breath just by standing near him.

“I-if that’s alright,” Kent wheezes uncertainly. “I mean you don’t— have to answer if you don’t— want to. It’s just— “ He gasps, one hand hovering at the level of his chest, “J-just that my— ribs sort of hurt, and I was wondering if you might— ah— distract me?”

With a flash of hastily-repressed guilt, Sol realizes he hasn’t been thinking of Kent’s injuries at all, though god knows he hasn’t been permitted to forget about his own. Unwillingly, he thinks again about the fact that Kent carried him away from the wreck site. He glares straight ahead and wills the momentary shame-flush out of his cheeks. “I guess. What’s your question?”

“Why do you— know how to— hotwire cars?” Kent pants?

Sol winces. “Uh,” he says uncertainly. “Well.”

Sol leads another dash to the next storefront down to give himself time for internal debate. His immediate instinct is to snap that it’s none of Kent’s goddamn business, but he guesses that isn’t exactly— fair. Entirely. And. Well. Kent told him about his— fiancé. Or whatever.

Trying to relax, he focuses on the sound of his feet against the sidewalk, and the sound of Kent’s labored breathing from behind him. And it isn’t that much further until they reach the car lot and he’ll have an excuse to stop talking.

“I, uh, well— I taught myself, a long time ago. So I could, uh, steal my dad’s car.” He almost wishes he was more out of breath, but Sol’s been sure to keep himself in good shape, so he doesn’t even have that excuse. He licks his lips and shakes his dripping bangs out of his eyes, trying to think how to go on. 

“Oh,” Kent puffs, surprising him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Sol risks a glance over his shoulder, and immediately trips over a bit of uneven sidewalk. “Whaddaya mean, ‘okay’?” 

Kent tries to shrug, winces. “Okay. I— get that. You don’t have to say anything more.”

Sol slows for a second, looking at Kent over his shoulder. He’s torn between annoyance at the very idea that Kent ‘gets’ anything about him— and the sneaking suspicion that he actually might.

He almost runs into the big metal sign outside of the car lot, in other words.

[starlessskies94]

The Saint and The Sinner (Negan/BlakeAU)

AU Vampire Negan and Mortal Blake cross paths but what will they make of each other? @neganandblake this is for you and I hope it doesn’t disappoint ❤️❤️❤️❤️ It is a long one and probably the only chapter I’ll write for this AU but I hope it’s okay and I think I edited most spelling mistakes (I hope) xxx

After six hundred years one might think you’d learn and see all there is to experience about life. But even the simplest of souls could live a mere seventy years and never grasp the truest moments of what it is to truly live.

Sanctuary Falls seemed like your average town, small and idyllic where everyone knew everyone. Surrounded by forests and mountains as far as the eye could see, it seemed like the perfect place to live. But what most innocent eyes couldn’t see was the darkness hidden in the depths. The creatures living in the underworld of the town ready to take the lives of any unlucky mortal that stumbled their way.

And after six centuries of bloodshed and death…Negan was ready for a change. After the death of his beloved Lucille he’d sworn he would never harm another human again. But it was hard, ignoring the instincts and impulses that came naturally after hundreds of years.

The house he’d seen advertised was an old scaled down mansion build; still with its original New England architecture intact. He couldn’t help but admire the workmanship on the place.

“As you can see the place is still in its original state for the most part, some parts of the property have been renovated mostly just to make it livable in the twenty first century. But I can assure you that you won’t find a better deal on an incredible home like this.”

He turned back to the preppy real estate agent. She stood by the kitchen door, that same bright illuminated smile dazzling her features. Looking no older than thirty-five at best, dressed in her best pants suit, her golden locks pulled back into a tiny neat bun with not one hair out of place. She’d been like a ray of sunshine throughout the whole tour of the house and to Negan’s surprise it’d actually brightened up his morning. He returned her smile with his own as his slipped his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Sounds great doll…I’ll take it.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It hadn’t taken him long to move in his stuff, mostly because he didn’t own much.

Stepping through to the kitchen on bare feet, his stomach crying out for food, he took a chilled blood pack from the fridge emptying the contents into a pint glass, taking a few swigs before placing it to the side on the counter.

He was running out and soon he knew he’d have to hunt for something more...fresh.

He winced at the thought, Lucille had always told him that he didn’t have to kill to survive but he was the head of his Clan, the Alpha; he had to lead by example. Lucille had always been human and turning her had never been an opinion because he hadn’t wanted her to be dragged into his world; that was of course until she got sick and it had been his last hope in the desperation to save her.

The thing was however, when a new vampire is turning they must feed in the first twenty four hours and Lucille had refused. She’d argued that it was unjustified that to save her life, she would have to take another...and so Negan had laid with her, holding her close as she slowly faded away.

That’d had been ten years ago and it sting stung as fresh as it did the day he lost her. He was trying...it was hard and he still slipped from time to time but he was trying. Leaving his Clan had been in service of that, in an attempt to lessen the temptation. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, barely getting there in time before it was thrown open and slammed against the adjoining wall.

“Hey buddy! You know it has been hell trying to track your ass down!”

Negan rolled his chestnut eyes at the tall mustached man. Simon, his blood brother in every second of the term. They’d been turned at the same time over six hundred years ago, sticking side by side for centuries killing and slaughtering together. He had a sense that maybe Simon enjoyed the killing a little too much but he supposed he would have been a rather lousy vampire if he didn’t.

“Yeah, you know it’s almost like I didn’t wanna be found Si!”

“Bullshit! You need to come back! The Clan needs you, they falling over their own damn feet not knowing what to do with themselves.”

“Not my problem anymore.”

Negan didn’t even flinch as Simon slammed his first against the wall, rattling the framed pictures above.

“Don’t fucking give me that shit! This is your Clan we’re talking about, you’re seriously gonna let a goddamn human screw that up?! It’s been ten years Negan! Get. Over. It!”

With wind chilling speed, he flew at the mustached man; his large hands tightening around his neck. Teeth grinding as he spit venom.

“Watch your fucking mouth Simon, don’t forget who fucking killed you the first time!”

The man coughed out a wheezed breath, a drip of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth as it twisted to a wicked grin.

“See, this is who you are. Why pretend you’re something else when we both know this is what you do best?”

Negan’s snarl stiffened at Simon’s words, hand squeezing tighter around his neck before he growled in frustration throwing the dark haired vampire to the side before grabbing his boots and storming out the door.

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After hours of wandering the streets, the primal instincts screaming through his system, the urge to kill rising with every passing human and the smell of their blood, the sound of it pumping through their veins to point it made Negan’s head spin.

He eventually ended up taking refuge in the town’s local bar; The Kingdom. Run by a man named Ezekiel; who rumor had it in the supernatural community was an ancient shapeshifter. Some claiming to have witnessed the man changing into anything from a fearless wolf to a snarling tiger. Whether the rumors were true however remained to be seen. Not that it bothered Negan, he had no qualms with the shapeshifters; provided they kept out of his way.

Taking another sip of his whisky, he savored the numbing effect it had. The overpowering smell of booze and cigarette smoke masking any scent of human aroma left lingering in his nostrils.

Keeping to himself for most of the night, drinking away the hours his attention was eventually drawn to the blonde sat at the opposite end of the bar. The real estate agent that sold him the house. Now dressed down in more casual wear of a low cut t-shirt; blue skinny jeans and boots. Her golden locks left untamed as they swayed loosely down her back and over her shoulders.

What was her name again? Blake something? It was definitely Blake, he’d never forget a gorgeous face like hers. There was something rather alluring about her; drawing him to her like a moth to a flame.

Even as he began making his way towards her; he knew it was a terrible idea. Then again most of the best experiences of his life had all started with bad ideas...

“Anything else Miss Blake?”

“Give the lady whatever she wants Ezekiel, it’s on me.”

Her green orbs met his as she turned on her bar stool, flashing him a smile. Clearly remembering him. 

“That’s very kind of you Negan, I’ll have another peach schnapps please...”

Negan wrinkled his nose at her order; a small smirk playing against his lips. While she simply shrugged, taking the glass from the bartender.

“Before you say anything, I know it’s a weak drink order but I prefer the fruity stuff... so sue me.”

“Hey you’ll get no judgment from me doll.”

The time passed faster than Negan would’ve liked it too, purely from the genuine enjoyment of being in this woman’s company, they talked about everything from jobs to family and everything in between. He’d even had it in him to crack a few terrible jokes just for the pleasure of hearing the blonde laugh.

He’d noticed two things about her in the few hours they’d gotten to know one another...

One; she played with her hair when she was nervous, pulling small strands of her gold mane around her fingers while spoke and he found it goddamn adorable.

And two; she was single. She didn’t wear any kind of ring wedding or engagement and in all the hours they’d spent talking, she never once mentioned she was involved with anyone.

When the time came for her to leave; he actually found himself feeling disappointed. But he’d kept his cool and bid her a goodnight before eventually calling it a night himself and heading outside for one last smoke before heading home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stepping into the cold brisk air; he felt the chill dancing down his spin as he leaned against the wall pulling his cigarette packet out his jacket pocket, drawing a cigarette to his lips, lighting it and taking a deep lung full of smoke before letting it out. A few more drags here and there, breathing out the cloud of smoke away from his lips.

He was interrupted by the sound of smashing trash cans in the side alley near the bar. Causing Negan to roll his eyes at the disturbance. Damn drunks. He’d thought about avoiding the alley on his way home, having no interest in whatever the assholes had decided to start throwing punches over. Wasn’t his business and he didn’t care. However when the very familiar feminine muffled voice followed the scuffle was when he stood to attention.

“Please let me go!”

Oh he definitely knew that voice, not even hesitating as he threw his cigarette to the ground and ran to the alley’s entrance.

There she was, Blake. Her mascara running down her face, blood trickling down from her forehead. Struggling in the grip of a man with his arms wrapped around her waist, his head craning round to the exposed flesh on her neck.

Fucking Alexandrian’s. He’d thought the deal they’d had with Grime’s Clan was solid until the bastard had decided to rebel and now his guys were running hell all over town…some going rogue and taking any human that struck their fancy, most of the time killing and letting Negan’s Clan take the blame for it. And the sight of her in pain so afraid, made Negan’s whole body shake with anger.

Letting the primal instincts take the lead as his face snarled in pure rage, fangs drawing out ready for the taste of blood.

He was at Blake’s side in an instant. His strong hands taking firm grip of the attacker and vigorously dragging him away from the blonde. He didn’t have time to react as Negan fiercely took hold of his neck, jerking his head to the side so hard with a powerful twist until he felt his spine click in his palms. But the opposing vampire continued to fight back, his strength fading rapidly.

Negan extended his fangs; a wolf-like growl leaving his lips as he plunged his teeth into the man’s neck. Chewing and gnawing throwing his head back as he tore the man’s throat open. Vampire blood was known for being bitter; he’d probably need another bottle of whiskey just to get rid of the taste. He let the body slump to the ground as it landed with a sickening thud in a pool of its own blood. Spitting the remain stains of crimson that coated his tongue, he wiped the corners of his mouth on his jacket sleeve before turning back to Blake, his fang now retracting back into place.

It wasn’t a surprise when he found the blonde cowering in the corner of the alley. But needless to say it still hurt. Seeing the fear in her eyes now after spending most of the night staring into them. But it was to be expected.

Looking at himself now covered in blood, Blake inching further away from him…he realized there’d be no way she could ever see him as anything else other than a monster now. She was an innocent, pure and light as air.

She fought back tears, holding herself as her arms hugged her sides, her legs crossed underneath her. He tried to move closer to reassure her that he wasn’t a threat but she just flinched away again.

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer!...What....What the hell are you?!”

“I’m something you do not wanna get mixed up in, Peaches. Trust me.”

After all, what angel could ever fall for the Devil?

[patricksilvrrozartistry]

Current Music Obsessions: October 1 - 16, 2017

Sorry for being late with this one. I've been rather busy this past week, but we're here with some great tunes! I have A LOT to get through this time. So here are the MANY honorable mentions.

Sleeping Romance - My Temptation Fenrir's Scar - Fearless Heart Architects - Doomsday The Erkonauts - The Snick Numenor - Moria Valhalla Lights - Opposite Sides Wheelfall - Violence is Seduction Sinistro - Petalas The Hardkiss - Lovers The Birthday Massacre - One Magion - Forever Mine Angel Nation - Burn the Witch Belphegor - Baphomet Carious - Integration of the Shadow Mastodon - Blue Walsh New Skin - New Skin Grave Pleasures - Joy Through Death Kari Rueslatten - My Lover The Dirty Youth - Hurricane Eleine - Hell Moon (We Shall Never Die) Alcyona - Enchantment Incubus - Dig Awaken Solace - End of Innocence As Old as Time - Escape feat. Sophia Akasha (Pendulum Zero) Disclarity - Ghosts Vovkulaka - My Devil Echopraxia - Mortal Coil Aviira - D E / A D W E I G H T Twelve Foot Ninja - One Hand Killing Secret Rule - The Song of the Universe Dreamarcher - Shadows Pagliacci - A Place to Hide feat. Snowy Shaw Myrkur - Funeral feat. Chelsea Wolfe Devin Townsend Project - Kingdom Xiphea - Briar Rose Prey - The Hunter Sound Storm - Forsaken Black Moth - Room 13 Soulside - Amaurotic

And now the many obsessions.

1) Kari Rueslatten - I Manens Favn

I decided to to check out some of Kari's EARLY releases since I'm most familiar with her newer stuff and I came across this track of hers from the 90's. The folk element is very strong in this track. It's such a catchy and fun track and really great to just jam out to.

2) Alexandra Martin - Burden of Hope

I rekindled my love for this gorgeous track. Alexandra was the original front woman of the gothic metal band Adastreia, but has been releasing music on her own for the past few years. This song is so beautiful and is full of so much emotion. I plan on doing a vocal cover of this song soon and I can't wait to see/hear how that turns out.

3) My Propane - Home

Another song I rekindled my love for. Valerio has such a great voice that is just pure sex. It's so great. The "woo" after the first chorus is my favorite bit. This song is just so comforting to me for some reason and is just so great to chill to.

4) The Dark Element - My Sweet Mystery

This is the song for their first music video and it's so fun. I am so happy that Anette is back in an active metal project and I seriously need to get around to listening to their debut album, because I'm loving everything I'm hearing so far. Symphonic power metal at its finest.

5) Crysalys - Moonlight Encounter

This is their first song in 6 years and I am so here for it! They're going in a more traditional symphonic metal direction now, which is really nice. Not only that, but they now have a male singer, Andrea. He has such a lovely voice and he is so fine. His and Chiara's voices blend so beautifully together and I can't wait to hear more from the upcoming album.

6) Cradle of Filth - Achingly Beautiful

Their new album is absolutely AMAZING. One of their bests in 10 years. This song is the perfect example of their evolution, while still keeping their roots and maintaining a classic CoF vibe. It's dark, beautiful and in your face. If you haven't listened to this album yet, DO IT.

7) Tragul - Into the Heart of the Sun

This is Zuberoa Aznarez's new project and I'm really digging it. It's very different from Diabulus in Musica. Instead of it being progressive, symphonic gothic metal, it's more of a symphonic power metal project. I really want to hear more from them, because it's nice to hear Zuberoa explore new sounds that are different from DiM.

8) Teodasia - Two Worlds Apart

This song is my favorite off of Metamorphosis and they released a video for it! The video is absolutely GORGEOUS and Chiara looks absolutely divine in it. Speaking of which, Chiara has joined the band is now a full time member Teodasia now! I really enjoy her work with Temperance, so I'm really looking forward to what new dimensions she'll bring to Teodasia.

9) Amberian Dawn - Maybe

If Abba decided to release a metal track, this is how it would sound. This song is so lovely, fun and catchy. It's so different from what I've heard from these guys in the past. I was a bit worried that the mixing on the guitars were going to be tuned down super low on the album like they are on this song, but it's only for this song, which is great. Even so, the tuned down guitars really suit this song and helps further push the Abba vibe of it that makes it so good.

10) Revolution Saints - I Wouldn't Change a Thing

I decided to give this song a listen after seeing their record label post the video for it and I fell in love. It's such a lovely song and very different from what I was expecting. I'm definitely going to listen to more from them, because I really enjoy this track.

11) Metalite - Afterlife

I discovered this band through their record label and fell in love. They're like Amaranthe, just minus all the male vocals. It's fun, upbeat, strong electronic element and a great power metal vibe. I'm definitely am going to give their new album a listen, because this and the second song I've heard from them are absolutely amazing.

12) October Ends - Dismal

I'm so glad that the lead singer of this band started following me on IG a while back, because I'm really digging their stuff. This is probably my favorite song they've released so far. It's in your face, but not so much that it's overwhelming. I really need to check out if they've released an album or EP this year and give it a listen if so.

13) Evenoire - Girl By the Lake

I decided to finally check out some of their early stuff prior to their amazing Herons album. This song is so beautiful and definitely leans more power metal than the stuff I'm most familiar with on Herons (those lean more progressive/symphonic metal). It's such a great track and I really need to check out more from the early days. It really sucks that they're no longer together, but hopefully Lisy will continue to make music elsewhere.

14) Beast in Black - Blind and Frozen

It's very rare that I ever fall madly in love with a male fronted power metal band since I'm so picky about male singers in the genre. This song is so catchy and fun. From the moment the first verse happened, I knew that I was going to thoroughly enjoy this track, and I definitely do. I can't wait to finally be able to give their debut album a listen, because this song is everything.

15) Misteyes - Creeping Time

These guys never fail to impress me with their music. It's very aggressive symphonic gothic metal and it's so good. The video looks wonderful and really suits the vibe of the song. It's both gorgeous and intense. I really need to listen to more from them already.

16) Shireen - Umai

This was a random YT discovery that really caught my attention. It's a very pretty folk pop track. So wonderful to just chill out to due to it's very mellow and gentle sound. I'm definitely am going to check out more from them.

17) Leprous - Contaminate Me (live)

I discovered this song through the Try Not To Headbang Challenge video I did not too long ago. It's so different compared to the other songs I've heard from due to how heavy and in your face it is. It's such an epic track to put on and jam to. I really need to hear the studio version and figure out which I like better. I will say this though, Einar's voice is heavenly in this.

18) Tarja - Supremacy (live)

I got to listening to The Shadow Self recently and when this song popped up, I remembered seeing a video where someone had live footage of her performing this and her hitting a super high note in the bridge. Naturally I had to check it out and see if was real. Bruh. It's real! Homegirl hits a super high note during the guitar solo and I am living for it! I wish I could see her live at ProgPower USA next year, but the tickets have sold out already. There's always next time though.

19) OncetheSun - Asphyxia

I discovered these guys through an ad on Facebook last year and decided to check them out. They're an atmospheric-ish progressive metal band from the states and they released the music for this song. It's such a great track to just chill to. I really need to listen to their latest album again, because I remember it being really great and different.

20) Mikko Joensuu - Dream About a Miracle

I discovered this beautiful ambient track through their record label. It's so peaceful and haunting. It's so lovely and emotional. It's all in them orchestrations, the backing vocals and the singer's droney kind of voice. I'm definitely am gonna check out more from them, because this is absolutely gorgeous.

That's it for the first two weeks of October! I'll be back at the beginning of November with the last half of obsessions for October.

[inkognito97]

What happens next in the Dracula with tahl and quigon's dinner? With quigon and tahl both ending up drunk from the wine and ending up in bed?

Dinner was a very tense affair. The honey skinned human female kept sending her host distrustful look and every attempt to start a conversation on his part, were quickly squashed to nothingness. It was clear that the female wanted nothing more than to return, probably home or preferably as far away from the estate and Qui-Gon as possible.

But Qui-Gon would not be Qui-Gon, if he did not have a few ideas up his sleeve. Sadly, the plan to get her drunk enough that she would open up and would perhaps even let herself talk into throwing away her bracelet, was for naught. The female outright refused the expensive wine. Qui-Gon suspected it was not the thought of getting drunk, but the fear that it might actually be blood. He scoffed at the thought. He may be a vampire, but he was no monster. 

“I hope everything was to your appetite, my Lady,” he wore his most charming smile, the one that could easily break a ton of hearts.

“Yes,” she nodded stiffly, “my compliments to the kitchen.” She folded her hands before her.

Qui-Gon hummed, his eyes resting on the female longer than was strictly necessary. “I am glad to hear it.” 

“Well my Lord, I adhered to my part of the… agreement,” he did notice the hesitation at the word ‘agreement’ and the male vampire had to hide a smile, “and I am sure that you are a very busy man, which is why I should probably take my leave.”

“Ah, but the even is still young, my dear and surely you would not want to leave without having seen the rest of my humble home.”

“Humble is hardly the word I would use to describe it,” from the shock that appeared on her features for the briefest of seconds, it was clear that she had not intended to say that out loud.

Qui-Gon threw his head back and laughed. “No, perhaps not. Though if you were to ask my father, he would have a hundred and one arguments against you.” He stood up and the chair he had previously sat upon, screeched over the floor. “Allow me the honor to show you the garden at least, my lady.”

Tahl had noticed that the male vampire had been about to hold out his hand, no doubt to help her stand and to guide her at his arm. But he had pulled it back. Also, she remembered his reaction upon actually touching her and the honey skinned female was glad for her fellow villagers. The charms were working, the question remained, for how long.

Tahl followed her host, walking to his left with at least two steps between them at all times. She knew that the charms were working and causing him pain, whenever he touched her, but she feared what he might do to break the spells. Surely he knew of ways to kill her and get what he wanted one way or the other. And what else could he want, but her blood.

The female winced inwardly. She had heard tails and storied that vampires were drawn to the scent of virgin blood, like a moth to the light, but she had not wanted to believe such stories. Now, she regretted that she had not listened. She had wanted to safe herself for her husband, but she may never have one, if her fears were correct and the vampire beside her, truly wanted her.

“You are afraid,” the deep baritone voice startled Tahl out of her thoughts. With wide eyes, she looked at the tall male, whose head was tilted slightly askew, while he was observing her.

“I am most certainly not,” she protested.

“There is no shame in admitting that you are,” he turned his gaze forward again, his eyes growing distant. “Every being has fears, some more, some less.”

“I can hardly believe that a vampire has to fear anything,” she snapped.

“I wish that were so,” he quickly glanced her way. “I am afraid of a lot of things. I am afraid that my father will die and leave me alone, I am afraid that one day, I will be homeless and without a family again… and I am afraid of cockroaches… nasty little beasts.” He shuddered at the memory that arose.

Tahl looked in wonder at the vampire. She did not know many men that were willingly and openly telling someone about their fears. The men she knew, all pretended to be fearless and brave. She knew better.

With a sigh, the female with the gold-green striped eyes, came to a halt. Qui-Gon took two more steps, before turning around, raising one of his elegant eyebrows. “I don’t understand what you want from me. Is it something I have done, have I angered you?”

Surprise was visible on his bearded features. “What would make you think that.”

“A mere village maiden as a guest in the count’s house?” she shook her head.

There was something in his deep midnight blue eyes that she could not place. “What are you implying?”

Was he just pretending to not know. “My Lord, I do not know, what I did to offend you. I just beg of you to leave my family in peace. If it is my blood that you seek, at least be so kind to take it quickly and to spare me the pain and the torture of ignorance.” She stood proudly, with her chin raised high.

A moment passed in silence. The vampire’s face was rid of all emotions, but then he closed his eyes and scoffed. It was a sound without any humor in it. When Qui-Gon opened his eyes again, there were blood red.

“Despite the village’s believes, I am no monster. I won’t deny that my father committed terrible crimes in the past, but be assured that I had nothing to do with them.” He was getting closer and Tahl found herself unable to move. “If it was your blood that I had wanted, I would have drained you in front of the people, why wait?”

“I…” she stuttered, but the tall male was standing right in front of her now, towering over her.

He grabbed her wrist, the one with the enchanted bracelet. “I have shown you my hospitality and this,” he gestured with her arm, “is how you repay me, with hurting me, with covering yourself in incense, fully knowing that I cannot stand the stench of it. Now tell me, my Lady, who of us is torturing who?”

He let go of her and his eyes slowly returned to their normal color. Tahl caught a brief glance at the palm of his hand that looked as if he had burned himself. She knew that those marks had not been there previously, not before he had touched her. 

A shiver ran down her spine. She was the one in the wrong. “Forgive me,” she bowed her head. “It was not my intention.”

Qui-Gon did not reply immediately. When he did, he had moved away, his voice was cold and rid of all the previous charm and warmness. “It is getting late. You might want to return to your village, before the monsters come out of their hiding places.” His footsteps grew more distant.

In alarm, did the honey skinned female look out of the nearest window. The sun was almost completely gone behind the horizon, it wouldn’t be long till it was completely dark. She would never make it home in time. The night was dangerous, murdered, thieves, rapists, vampires, werewolves and other creatures of the dark awakened then. Something told her that she would not make it home unscathed or alive.

“Please, my Lord,” she ran in her uncomfortable shoes to catch up with the noble man. “Please, do not send me out in the dark. I beg of you.”

He looked down at her. “You would prefer to spend the night here, where my father and I reside, instead of travelling home?” he asked. 

“My Lord,” her voice trembled, panic had gripped her heart. She remembered what had happend to her best friend, who had ignored curfew. They had found her abused and gutted the next morning. “Please.”

She wanted to reach out, but he evaded her touch. Affter hat seemed to the distressed female like an eternity, he finally answered, “Very well. I will lead you to your room.”

“My Lord, I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” she did not even notice her bad choice of words until it was too late.

But the vampire surprised her once more. “Wash yourself and clean that stench off of your skin,” he replied.

“I will,” she vowed. Seemingly satisfied with the answer, the vampire turned to walk along the corridor again and Tahl was left to wonder, what the hell was going on exactly.

[ickaimp]

[RotG] Spread your Wings

I blame @eastofthemoon. Wasn’t originally gonna write fic for this @jackrabbitweek prompt, but… 2844 words, fluff. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Bunny commented, giving himself a stretch. Easter was over, now it was time to relax and unwind a bit. 

“What?” Jack said, distracted from his very busy task of attempting to balance a flower on his nose. It wasn’t working, but the effort was entertaining nevertheless. “Wings.” Bunny said succinctly. Spirits, with two known exceptions, had wings. It was the one of the most obvious and identifiable ways to recognize them, thought to be a reflection of the spirit themselves.

North’s bird like wings were pure white, growing so thick and fat with feathers around his holiday, that he could very nearly double in size. The feathers tended to fade and thin out a little after Christmas, but they were always there, not so obviously from the falcon style. 

Toothiana had not two, but six wings, showing off her level of power, each shaped like a dragonfly’s iridescent wing, but the edges sharper and harder than a steel sword. Her girls had wings much like hers, but only two, an echo of her power. Even Pitch Black had wings, warped dragon scaled looking things that were closer to scythes than wings, apparently made of twisted shadows. It was sometimes debated that Sandy didn’t have wings, but most people were idiots, and didn’t notice his moth shaped wings wrapped around him, forming what appeared to be his clothing. It was when the wings came out that it was time to run far away from the Sandman as possible. Bunny was one of the two exceptions, something that was the source of much debate and contention among the spirit world, which he didn’t give a rotten egg’s thought to. He was an earth based elemental, he didn’t have any business being up in the air, no matter what North preferred. The other exception was Jack Frost. Who flew through the air like a leaf caught in the wind, laughing merrily the whole time, without nary a feather or a glimpse of wing in sight. It was… bewildering. When he’d first met Jack decades ago, it was just one more annoyance on the part of the frost spirit. But now that Jack was a Guardian, and Bunny had come to learn more about Jack, it had become a mystery. One of many, Jack was a walking mass of contradictions, as much as Bunny was. All of which Bunny was taking great delight in learning. Jack blinked a few times, leaning forward slightly, weight propped up by his staff. “You have them?!” He exclaimed, tone incredulous. “Since coming to Earth, yeah.” Bunny shrugged. It was something about the planet, he'd never had them in space, thank goodness for that. “Bloody nuisance they are.” He added with a grumble. 

“Nice to know I’m not the only one who feels that way about them.” He confessed, a relaxed grin spreading across his face. Bunny tried not to grin at the confirmation that Jack had them. There had been a slight possibly that Jack perhaps might not have, or the dour thought that something had happened that they’d somehow been removed. Which left the question of what kind of wings would suit Jack Frost best. Bunny’s mental image of what they might be changed from day to day, depending on his mood, and how much teasing Jack had done that day. If they were feathered, bat winged, shaped like a moth.   If they were feathered like North’s, Bunny couldn’t think of any reason why Jack would hide them away. Bat winged did tend to carry some negative connotations, and he could see Jack hiding those away, but they didn’t seem quite right for the fun loving spirit either Jack’s grin faltered as Jack paused and glanced around. “Is that why you invited me down to the Warren today?” “Partly.” Bunny admitted. It wasn’t exactly a common occurrence to have Jack visit the Warren, but it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence either. Their busy and off times tended to coincide with each other, and they spent a fair bit of time together as of late.  “Gotta give them a stretch at least once a year, and it’s too crowded back at the Pole.” “The Pole’s large enough for North’s wings, and they’re the largest I’ve seen!” Jack exclaimed, incredulous, but not fleeing either. “They’re alright.” Bunny demurred, just a hint of a cocky grin on his face. Jack gave him a skeptical look, but there was an intrigued edge to it. “Alright.” Jack slowly nodded and Bunny tried not to cheer. “You first though.” “No running.” Bunny gave Jack a suspicious look, not quite able to believe that Jack would acquiesce so easily. For someone so fearless, Jack could be one of the most skittish people Bunny knew. “Promise.” Jack earnestly agreed. “… That’s more for me own wings, than showing yours.” Bunny muttered, twisting to scratch at an ear with his hind paw. “They’re… not exactly normal.” Jack paused, thinking it over for a moment. “No running.” He finally agreed. “As long as you don’t mock me for mine.” Bunny froze in mid-scratch. “Why would I-?” He turned to look at Jack in confusion. Jack had an excellent poker face when he wanted to. “Why would I run from yours?” He challenged back. “Fair point.” Bunny agreed. They both had their own mysteries. “Ya might wanna back up a tad for this.” Bunny commented. “Alright.” The sceptical look was back, but Jack did as requested. Bunny waited until he felt  Jack was far enough away not to get hit by an errant limb before starting to change his shape. It was one of the things he was most grateful for in being a shapeshifter, that he could hide them away. He wasn’t kidding when he commented about them being a bloody nuisance. Jack gave a small gasp as the ‘fur’ on Bunny’s back rippled, then started to reach upwards, like giant petals of a flower reaching up towards the sun. Petals that quickly grew to Bunny’s length, then doubled, then doubled again. They flapped lazily, the joints feeling strange on his spine, each one of the four wings moving independently The weight of the wings made him pitch forward into the grass, claws digging into the rich soil for traction, to keep from sprawling out completely as the wings began to thicken and change shape, to what North had described once as a ‘pterodactyl’s wing’, but Bunny thought resembled more of an oleander leaf. They were lightly furred, as variegated as the rest of himself was. Once the large grey wings had formed, he kind of flapped them lazily, twitching them as he attempted to regain balance. “Whoa.” Jack breathed, staring at him in awe, eyes wide and very blue. “Reckon ya see why I don’t let them out much.” Bunny grumbled. He was more than just the embodiment of his holiday. He was very, very old, one of the oldest on the planet, and tied not only to Spring, but <i>life</i> itself. It was a heavy responsibility on his back. To his knowledge, he was the only one with wings like this, their shape and number alien to the planet. They didn’t have dragons on this planet, much less a Stormcutter’s. “You look like one of those moths.” Jack put his hands on top of his head, mimicking Bunny’s ears. “The ones with the furry antenna.” “Thanks.” Bunny deadpanned, and Jack shrugged, only slightly repentant. “It’s the right proportions.” Jack commented, stepping forward, and giving Bunny a hand up. Bunny took it gratefully, the wings flailing around slightly as he attempted to get his balance. It took a moment, Jack holding him steady until he could stand on his own two feet again. “I can use them as limbs ta move about if I wanted to.” Bunny pointed out. “Have before. North don’t like it cause it looks a bit too much like a giant spider.” Jack stared up at the wings thoughtfully for a minute before nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He agreed, reaching up towards Bunny’s wings, then hesitated, pulling his hand back. Touching another’s wings without permission was considered taboo, not that Bunny really cared about that. But then his wings didn’t have the same kind of sensitivity as most other spirits. “I could use some assisting with a bit of groomin’ too, if you don’t mind.” Bunny added, just a touch of hopeful cajoling in his voice. He could do it on his own, but it was a literal pain to do. Jack laughed, his expression brightening. “Ah, I see how it is.” He teased. “You just wanted my help.” “That was part of it.” Bunny tried to shrug and failed, the joints on his back limiting his movement for the moment. “You’ve seen mine, your turn.” Jack hesitated, then made a long suffering sound. “Yeah.” He reluctantly agreed, stepping back again to lean his staff against a rock. “They’re not as grand as yours, so don’t laugh, okay?” “No promises.” Bunny swore. Jack chuckled quietly, reaching for the back of his hoodie, and pulling it over his head, hiding his face in blue fabric for a moment, before he pulled it off, leaving his pale chest bare. Bunny twitched slightly with the urge to go grab his paints and attempt to match Jack’s colouring. He could see the faint blue of Jack’s arteries against the nearly translucent nature of his pale skin, the pale pink of his egg shaped nipples, the shadow of the navel, how his hands and face were slightly more pink than the rest of him from wind burn. It was subtle, not at all dramatic, but Bunny liked it. “Alright.” Jack said, giving himself a small shake. “It’s been so long I’m not even sure I remember how to do this properly.” He muttered. “It’s fine, take your time.” Bunny waved it away, swaying slightly as he kept his balance. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere until his limbs remembered how they were supposed to work. Jack got a determined look on his face, then nodded, turning his back to Bunny. He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes, slowly letting the breath out. At first, Bunny didn’t see anything. Just Jack’s pale skin was about the same shade as a newly sprouted egg. He wondered if Jack would let Bunny paint on him sometime, idly debating what colours would work best to complement and contrast. 

He almost missed the first sparkle of frost just under one of Jack’s shoulder blades, then stopped his musing to focus on what he was seeing. It almost seemed more of a trick of the eye than anything substantial. And then another flicker, and another, slowly forming what appeared to be an outline of something delicate folded up against Jack’s back. The frost seemed to unfurl, and Bunny realised that much like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, Jack had somehow managed to fold and scrunch up his wings, so they were all but gone. Jack made a soft groan, and suddenly his wings rippled and snapped open, long enough to brush Jack’s wrists. Butterfly wings. Jack had butterfly wings, made of nearly translucent frost. They were barely there, more of a suggestion than a solid object, almost ghost like in their beauty.

Jack paused, panting slightly for breath. “They’re a bit ridiculous, aren’t they?” He commented, glancing over his shoulder to give Bunny a crooked smile. “Freaking fairy wings, right?” “They’re lovely.” Bunny said honestly. He wondered if he touched them they’d melt, or if they were stronger than they looked, much like Jack himself. Jack scoffed in return, clearly not believing him. “They’re embarrassing.” He countered. Bunny gave him a confused look back, then pointed to the giant alien x-shaped monstrosity on his back. Jack sighed, sounding aggravated. “The first spirits I met were ice elementals.” He muttered, glaring down at the dirt, away from Bunny. “They… Tried to tear them off.” If touching someone’s wings was Taboo, removing someone’s wings was Forbidden. Bunny had known only one spirit that was rumoured having to have done so. Neither spirit survived. The one whose wings having been removed dying of shock, and the one who had performed the action not surviving the mob that had formed and ripped them to shreds afterwards. “They’re not that bad.” Bunny said lightly, making a mental note to get names later. “Hah.” Jack mocked, then gasped. The delicate wings trembled, then rapidly expanded, each one easily the length of Jack’s staff if not larger. Jack leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees as he panted for breath. “They… didn’t do that before.” Jack gasped for air. “Weren’t as large?” Bunny asked, using his wings to move him closer for a better look, to look at Jack’s face in concern. “No.” Jack confessed, his eyes wide and slightly scared.“Yer a Guardian now.” Bunny pointed out. And had a heck of a lot more of a power base than when Jack was a young spirit. “True.” Jack admitted, then gasped. “Oh, crap.” He gasped. The butterfly wings trembled, then suddenly erupted in a riot of colour, no longer see through, but completely solid. “Oh.” Bunny breathed. The front, where Bunny was currently looking, was a swirl of white, fracturing the light like ice. Jack lifted a wing to look at it, his expression clearing into a pleased, almost proud look. “Nice.” He breathed, turning and extending his wings, showing them off. “How’s the back?” Bunny’s breath caught in his throat. “Oh, Jack.” “What?” Jack twisted to try to see what Bunny was looking at, hitting himself in the face with a wing. “They’re blue.” Bunny resisted the urge to touch. They weren’t just blue, but nearly every shade of sky blue he could think of, from the rich deep colour of midnight blue contrasting against Jack’s frosty skin, to the cerulean of Jack’s eyes, and fading to the near white of the sky at high noon on the edges. There were tiny flickering spots of white like snowflakes on the tips of the wings, and bold deep deep black lines that framed the colours, never trapping but enhancing the colours. The colour glimmered and shifted, never static, catching the light and nearly reflecting it back. Jack had the sky on his back. Bunny felt like he could stare at those wings and never get tired of looking at them. 

“Bunny?” Jack’s soft voice wavered, and Bunny realised that Jack had probably been repeating his name. “You’re kinda worrying me. What are you thinking?” He was thinking they were glorious, and beautiful. He was thinking of the look of pain on Jack's face as he'd revealed his hidden wings, and how much worse it was going to be, watching them shrunken, folded and hidden away. Knowing that they were there, and hidden away. That Jack felt like he needed to protect this part of himself from everyone, including them, instead of showing off how beautiful he was. “Nope.” Bunny said firmly. “Nope, you’re not putting those away again.” “Like hell.” Jack countered, voice cracking slightly in anger. “When you were a young spirit, they were tiny and sparkly.” Bunny drawled, resisting the urge to run his paw pads against the lovely curve of Jack’s wings. “Might been real embarrassing you said, like fairy wings.” “Yeah-?” Jack hesitantly agreed. “Well, they’re not any more and I will rip the hands off of anyone who tries to damage them, swear to my googies.” Jack jerked for a moment, then let out a breathless laugh.  “What?” “I’m claiming them, they’re mine.” Bunny said, only slightly joking. “Bunny.” Jack gave him a bit of annoyed glare. “You cannot go around claiming other people’s wings as your own.” “Can too.” “Can not.” “Can too.” Bunny stubbornly countered. “You didn’t want em, so I’m claiming them.” Jack let out a soft huff. “They’re a part of me, it’s not like I can take them off and give them to you.” “Then I guess I’m claiming you too.” Bunny stated calmly. Jack stared at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.” “I wouldn’t say it unless I meant it.” Bunny laughed, slightly hysterical as his brain caught up to his mouth. He meant it though, every word. He motion over his shoulder. “Ya think I show my wings ta anyone? North’s the only one who’s ever seen them, even that was an accident.” No one else was given as much access to Bunny's home, or spent this much time just chin wagging. He liked Jack, and wanted to keep him around as much as he could. He'd just never thought he could say it to Jack. Except now he had, and Jack was standing there, staring at him, and Bunny could feel his heart sinking. “…. Oh.” Jack finally blinked at him, blue eyes the same colours of his wings. Then his face split into a wide grin. “You think my wings are pretty.” He drawled playfully. Bunny ducked his head. “Yeah.” He muttered, feeling slightly foolish now. “You wanna keep them.” Jack sing-sang. “… Yeah.” “You wanna keep me.” “Yup.” “Okay.” Jack grinned at him, stepping closer. Bunny stared. “I… really?” “Yup.” Jack reached his hand up, as if to touch one of Bunny’s wings, then hesitated. Bunny moved his wing so that it pressed up against Jack’s cool palm. He shivered slightly at the feeling, the joy that lingered just under the barrier of Jack’s skin and tickled his senses. Jack’s smile shifted to something milder, and infinitely more soft. “Guess you can say I’ve been looking for someone to spread my wings with.” -fin- The basis for Jack’s Wings, the White Admiral: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limenitis_arthemis#/media/File:Limenitis_arthemis_astyanax_in_Hot_Springs_National_Park.jpg It was going to be a Blue Emperor (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morpho_peleides), but that’s a tropical butterfly.

[jeonglekook-blog]

Faerie!Suga (Working Title)

This is the start of a multi-chapter fic that I began way back in the summer. I’m in the process of finishing the first chapter and deciding what the actual plot is going to be. For now, Suga is a faerie, Y/N is a little girl, and, somehow, them meeting will change the course of their entire lives. 

Suga x Reader (in future chapters)

Words: 2379

Genre/Warnings: None

Chapter: Prologue

Prologue

Precariously surrounded by prickers and tall thorny bushes, you delicately lifted the leaves and branches in search of the brightest, deepest red, raspberries. This was one of your favorite parts about the summer. With school out and your mornings free to explore the forest in your backyard, you told yourself you would come to the forest everyday to snack on the raspberries you’d pick.

With your basket nearly half full and the raspberry bush by the stream stripped of all the ripe ones, you moved on to the clearing that you only just discovered in this first venture into the forest. A short walk, no more than 20 feet or so away from the running water was the round glade, with only a few rocks in the center and surrounding bushes and trees on the circumference, an anomaly on the forest floor that you believed simply made it easier to pick the raspberries.

The first bush you walked up to, randomly and away from the small space to enter the clearing, was thick and the leaves were droopy and full. You crouched down in front of it starting from the bottom, determined to fill your basket as best you could. Each branch and each leaf you moved up and over was thoroughly inspected. A rush of excitement ran through you and caused your grip on the basket to tighten when you noticed a rather large bunch of crimson flash before your eyes as you mistakenly released a fuzzy, drooping leaf that held them. As if there was a rush to get this particular bunch of raspberries, you repositioned yourself on your feet into a crouch so your arm had better access through the prickers of the bush. You knew you had to be careful, however - you didn’t want your excitement to cause the bunch to fall to the ground if you tried too hurriedly and carelessly to pluck one. So, you opted for the entire, fragile branch which held seven perfectly sculpted wild caps. You did not expect however, what the empty space of the missing branch and leaf would reveal.

Your eyes widened, the raspberries completely forgotten as you laid your eyes on the strangest dragonfly you had ever seen. Or was it a butterfly? A moth? Insects never really bothered you or grossed you out, and this one certainly did not either. But you cocked your head at the peculiar sight. You did not know moths rested in leaf hammocks, and you might have thought it was a cocoon had it not revealed a small human face between strangely shiny wings and a complete, yet tiny, human body dressed in what could only be the very leaves that shaded the woods. But you stared more intently at the face of a boy with green hair and pale skin and fast asleep.

Perhaps you had just never gotten close enough to a butterfly or a moth or a cocoon to notice the details of their face, but you were sure they weren’t as beautiful and as human as this. You placed your basket down carefully next to you, but never tore your eyes from the strange creature before you, no bigger than the size of your mother’s hand that held your small one when you walked the busy streets of the city.

Your first instinct was to reach your pointer finger out and touch him - and what else would it be for a fearless, curious, adventurous young kid when they see something new and exciting? More than anything you wanted the small creature to open its eyes and see you as you were seeing him. You opted to start with his wings: silver and greys mixing with browns and vibrant spots of green, shimmering and dusty like a butterfly but without the rainbow colors. You wanted to feel the softness of his wings and if the shining silver of his wings would rub off onto your finger. So with hesitation, but overrun with curiosity and bravery, you reached your right pointer finger through the branches like any kid would prod at the unknown - with physical touch - and delicately slid your finger right onto the middle of the wing, splayed out in all it’s wonder. Except your touch was more of a clumsy jab from your unstable crouch on the forest floor. The moment your finger made contact with the wing, it retracted and engulfed part of his body, causing him to shift in, what appeared to be, his sleep. You pulled back almost simultaneously as your heart raced and eyes widened at the sudden motion. But after your chest settled you were only more determined to understand this strange thing in front of you.

This time, you settled on your hands and knees, sticking your head right into the raspberry bush and although your balance was no better with one hand reaching out to touch the tiny boy with wings, at least your face was close enough to determine that he was, in fact, real.

This time, rather than just your pointer finger, you prodded the folded wing with three of your small fingers, as gently as you could, stroking the soft, almost feather-like shimmer of the wings. This time though, he didn’t move at all, and your hesitation was being washed over again with determination. You nudged him to the side, almost as if you were going to scoop him up, but you hadn’t the courage - yet. Lucky for you, you wouldn’t have to. He shifted over so his entire body was facing your wide eyes, but your hand remained at his side and on his wing and his eyes finally opened.

“Oh shit.”

At that, you gasped and squealed, flying backwards onto your butt and hands catching your balance on the mossy forest floor. You didn’t really know what to expect and maybe it was just what you thought it was: an actual, miniature sized boy, with wings and green hair, and speaking words, a very bad word too, you thought. Just as fast as you fell back in surprise, however, you crawled right back to the bush, not wanting him to fly away or disappear. To your surprise, and luck,, he was already emerging from behind the fuzzy raspberry leaves.

“Hey, hey! Little girl! Come back over here.” His voice was at a hushed tone and urgent whisper, but somehow it carried to your ears as if he was a normal sized person, right there in front of you. Or better yet, in your ears and surrounding you. You couldn’t begin to fathom how that was possible because you had more important things to worry about in that moment.

“Who are you?” You asked, closely to his small body and mimicking his whisper, even though there was no one around. But your thumping heart and wide eyes and stiff body was cause for your involuntary reciprocation.

The small boy with butterfly wings, however, was taken aback. Never did he imagine the first words coming from the girl’s mouth, or any human’s for that matter, to ask who he was rather, he expected to be asked what he was.

“I’m uh…” He reached behind his head to scratch the back of his neck, uncertainty written on his face as he looked around - at anything but your face. “My name is Min Yoongi,” he said quietly

He had opened his mouth prepared to explain the peculiar sight this human girl was seeing in front of her, not to say his name. From the stories and lessons he’d been taught his entire life, humans couldn’t understand the unusual, the unknown, and that was, of course, exactly what he was.

If possible, the young girl got even closer.

“Oh, my name is Y/N!” You were still whispering.

“Look -”

“Why do you have wings?

“I’m -”

“Why are you so small?”

The creature who called himself Min Yoongi, knew, at this point, it was too late to fly away. You had already seen him, taken a good, long, look and he had already spoken to you, and he cursed himself, knowing well the consequences if anyone found out about this interaction. “So why didn’t you just fly away, you idiot?” He had the perfect chance when they had startled each other moments ago. Yet he felt the need to explain himself to the girl, explain what you were seeing, that, no, it was not your imagination, and in the moment of panic, his instincts failed him and he beckoned the human back to him. He realized the gravity of the mistake he made.

“Hello? Can’t you talk again?” You stuck your finger out to him, getting his attention, and he jumped away, just barely out of your reach.

“Hey! Little girl!” He snapped back at you and settled back down on the leaf near your face. “Listen, um…” Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck again, looking around cautiously as if the answer of knowing what to do next lay somewhere in the forest around them. “You can’t, by any chance… forget this all happened?” And upon the words that fell from his mouth, he smacked his own forehead, shaking his head. He knew there was a way to take a human’s memory away. The elders would know how, but he definitely wasn’t going to bring you to them.

“My name is Y/N!” you retorted.

“Okay, whatever,” he responded quickly and offhandedly, his mind too cluttered and panicked at the moment to care.

“Well, I can’t forget unless you answer my questions,” you crossed your arms and lifted your chin, but your eyes never left his shimmering wings and his tousled green hair, and the slight glow of his pale skin, and the sparkle, although small, in his dark eyes.

“Alright well,” Yoongi sighed, “I’m a - wait! I don’t hafta - you know what? Just run along and go back home,” he shooed you away. And it wasn’t that he was annoyed at you, so much as himself.

You could only pout at that. You didn’t want to get up from your spot and you didn’t want to walk away from Yoongi. Your questions had to be answered and part of you couldn’t resist the way he seemed to be just as confused as you, except he wasn’t handling it nearly as well.

“Fine!” You started, carefully, but quickly placing your spilled raspberries back into your basket. “It’s not like anyone’s going to believe me that there are faeries in the forest anyway.”

The moment of relief as you stood up was instantly replaced with shock when Yoongi heard the word faerie come out of your mouth.

“Wait! Little girl! What did you just say?” Too afraid to come out of the raspberry bush and the cover of leaves, Yoongi called after you, willing his voice toward you in desperation, “Y/N! Come back!” He covered his face with his hand in defeat and sighed. But when he looked up again, your bright and imploring eyes mere inches away from him settled him in a peculiar way. The past few minutes of his life were full of firsts, many forbidden and precarious firsts, but he was beginning to feel the same intrigue, even if it was just a fraction of what you must have been feeling when you found out that faeries existed.

“Will you tell me now? Please, please, please!” Your voice boomed out, startling his small body, “Will you answer all my questions?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped short and sighed. You hadn’t moved at all. You hadn’t batted an eyelid and you may not have breathed yet either. As if to admit defeat, yet again, giving into a child’s curiosity, indulging your imagination, he chuckled at himself, shook his head in disbelief at himself.

“Well, Y/N, you guessed it,” he started, opening arms out wide, presenting himself formally in a prideful manner. “I am, in fact, a faerie”

A gasp emitted from your mouth as the boy lifted himself delicately from the leaf he stood upon; ethereal, weightless. You were almost vibrating, trying to contain your excitement. Your eyes were trained on every effortless movement he took in the air above you, your neck craned upwards and mouth agape, and for once you were rendered speechless.

“And you were right too,” he began, simultaneously searching through the leaves above your head, “no one would believe you if you said you talked to a faerie today.” He had disappeared in the bush, but his voice still, somehow, carried to your ears. “You’re too young to be taken seriously in the first place. Everyone would just think this was a wonderful game of imagination we’re playing.”

There was a moment of silence except for the rustling of branches and leaves in the bush. You were about to open your mouth for a question when he popped out to look at you.

“And if you were older, everyone would just think you’re a crazy person.”

His head disappeared back into the bush, but only for a moment when he emerged with two luscious raspberries and flew nonchalantly back down to his spot with the leaf hammock, setting them down.

“But Y/N,” his voice was different now, lower, and it caught your attention even more so than what he already had, if it were possible. Your breath was stuck in your throat even though your mouth hung open and you waited for him to continue as he approached your face. “You still can’t tell anyone about me. You got it?”

When you didn’t immediately respond, Yoongi floated even closer, almost to where you had to cross your eyes to look at him.

“Do you understand?”

Slowly, the dumbfounded look on your face grew into the brightest smile. First the small upturn of your lips when your jaw tightened, then a glint of your pearly baby teeth and then rosy cheeks and a scrunched nose that pushed your eyes nearly closed. Despite this, your eyes sparkled in the shimmer of Yoongi’s wings and the flabbergast that was on your face just moments ago was now pure delight. All you could do was nod your head vigorously, not willing to let your elated smile go.

[lavieenor-blog]

I wrote this and someone suggested I post it here so BOOM into the pits of tumblr.

ninety six corolla

 i dont hit snooze anymore.

i am awake at least an hour before the alarm goes off. i have never had a quiet mind. it races with want and worry all night until dawn when i am inevitably give up and decide to officially be awake. stretch, move hair out of my face, listen to my hearbeat. i take a deep breath, check the time, and then begin to concentrate on the steps.

step 1 is getting out of bed. put your feet on the ground, stand up. go. make yourself move. Â you have to get out of bed. you do not have a choice. well, you do have a choice but you have to make the right choice.

getting out of bed was never hard until one day it was hard. jobless, hungover, no appetite, sick of it all. why face the day. or the next. or any day. getting out of bed became a herculean task. so this step is important, it is the first goal that puts you on the path to other goals. touch the day.

 i get up.

step 2 is hygiene. take a shower, brush your teeth, comb your hair. this also, as hard as it is to understand, is something that can be incredibly overwhelming when the night before you stared at bottle of luksosawa and some vicodin a lover brought over because he naively thought he was helping you calm down, and you thought to yourself “no one is going to care.” and then you did it, you tried anyway and still woke up and you suck at that too so why bother combing your hair? step two has become my favorite. 45 minute showers, shelves and shelves of scented soap shaped like seashells and imprinted was sexy names -lavender, amber mist, green valley, crabtree and evelyn.

 i am going to always smell fucking good.

eating breakfast is the next step. i grab an orange and a cigarette. the irony is not lost on me. today, i am josephine baker.

the memories seep back during traffic. red lights, stop and go, mind-numbing talk radio. too easy. too much time to think.

i did not know i was depressed in the clinical way. i just thought my time was done. it was a good life. i had been fearless all through-out my 20’s and whatever had suddenly attacked my brain also came with a steady whisper in my head, day in and day out. it was over. my depression was not a fade to black, with slow dances towards cut wrists and sad songs playlists. i did not write letters. i did not plan my funeral, i did not reveal my state of mind. my depression was giving up and wasting away and disappearing. my depression was changing my number for no real reason. my depression was a $100 sweater with the tags still on it, that i was once coveted, suddenly becoming my dogs blanket, with the tags still on it. my depression was will & grace marathons with white wine out of a box on tuesday mornings. my depression was not eating until i almost passed out then ordering $200 dollars of chinese delivery to hold me over until next time. my depression was, come over, leave by 2 a.m.. i was reckless with money and men, i wanted it all gone. the plan was when the money ran out, so would i. the men would disappear on their own.

step 3 is call your family and let them know you are still alive. make sure you eat your lunch.

step 4, when the day gets long and you start to question everything, step 4 reminds you to dream. think about what makes you happy. create a goal.

i picture a roast chicken with lemon, rice pilaf, a salad, a mexican serving dish, green red white ceramic dishwasher friendly, antique silverware, guests at a table, candle light. a game of cards. josephine baker. if i allow myself to be generous with dreams it might stretch to a daughter in ballet class, a son in soccer. or vice versa. continuing. a night with my handsome, who’s face is always clouded (i do not know how to fill this part in), at the opera in an evening gown. we go to dinner afterwards and waltz in the street in the rain. im just following the steps.

time to go home.

here is where it gets the hardest.

steps 5 and 6 are more guidance to make sure you stay on track. make sure to eat again. do something to occupy your time. read a good book. get a hobby. please do this.

but those hours when you are supposed to stay awake, when you are supposed to watch sitcoms and laugh and unwind, those are the hardest hours. when you are counting down minutes until sleep just so tomorrow you can do it again, the steps again (what is life without the steps?) that is when you ask yourself what is the fucking point?

i read chapter 3 of Beloved. Anything dead coming back to life hurts.

i never did get the chance to run out. at my lowest point i wouldn’t even drive a my car. anxiety played a part but dealing with that involves different steps. (hint: breathe). Â my old faithful toyota corolla. it represented freedom, it was memory wrapped in metal, wanderlust on wheels. sorry for being wordsmith indulgent. i could no longer get behind the wheel, i no longer saw possibility on the road, in big cities, in small towns, in life in general. 

most people do not know that a corolla by definition is the petals of a flower.

i no longer had the will to give the car the life it gave to me. i let it wilt in the driveway and by neglect i let it die.

the fantasy involved a long drive into the woods and a hose extended from the exhaust to the window, safe inside of the petals, curled up like a sick, twisted adult ann geddes photo shoot. i’ve always been a dramatic romantic. my depression would not let me move, make this lovely quiet end happen. even death  was a burden. i was too depressed to try. had someone handed me a gun though, i know for a fact i would not still be here, doing the steps.

i cannot say when the turning point came but it was slow to come. my brain got tired and my body started to rebel. my hair was falling out. my belts, barely a size 26, no longer fit. mostly, defiantly, i was tired of the hospitals i ended up in whenever someone came to check on me. contrary to popular belief, doctors are not nice to people with issues.  i did not want another moment of having to drink a sprite out of a plastic cup because staff was concerned about the rough edges of a can. i hated being told what to do, and worse i hated being punished for refusing to do what i was told to do. the independence was starting to overcome the demon. it was time to try.  i gave in i took the help. i took the therapy, i took the pills, i took 30 days in the mountains.

step 7 asks you to look back at your day and what you accomplished.

 i used to journal the highs and lows of everyday but as i got better, i started to forget that task. it has become an anything book. 30 pages of self-congratulatory statements turned into random phone numbers, drawings of floorplans, a shrimp recipe “3 tablespoons curry, 1 stick butter, hdfl grn beans, a moth wing delicately saved in a small plastic bag and stapled to the back cover. these are highs and lows of a different sort. a patchwork of scribbles so i dont ask what is the fucking point?

the point is josephine baker singing REVES.

when it is time for the evening to be done, when i have successfully kept myself busy, when i can get into the bed and say goodnight to the moon knowing that in the morning i can feel the sun, when i survived another day, i did it, take that depression!, this is when, and only when i can forget about the steps.

step 8: sleep.

[threeinstruments]

1.

"The immediate instruments are two: the motionless camera and the printed word. The governing instrument -- which is also one of the centers of the subject -- is individual, anti-authoritative human consciousness.” 

-James Agee

2.

@threeinstruments is collection of nonfiction stories told through Instagram. Each story is made up by a series of posts. The series will then be logged at threeinstruments.tumblr.com. The idea is stolen from projects like #VQRShorts, #everydayincarceration, and @neailshea12. The photographs take the place of the traditional nut graph (an idea borrowed from Jeff Sharlet). The text ranges from the straightforward to the experimental but is anchored by an old-fashioned devotion to “fact.”  Call it British fact, which labels blue blue, but also has a slightly higher register -- for example, Orwell:

“I am struck again by the fact that as soon as a working man gets an official post in the Trade Union or goes into Labour politics, he becomes middle-class whether he wills it or not, ie. by fighting against the bourgeoisie he becomes a bourgeois. The fact is that you cannot help living in the manner appropriate and developing the ideology appropriate to your income.”

3.

Autonomy -- governing instruments -- are hard to come by. Institutional support is often required to produce them. Gina Telaroli writes that “it’s extremely difficult for anyone to make a film (or write about them) these days,” noting that it’s even more difficult for women to carve out a space to do those activities as the field crumbles and is pieced back together. Reportage is no different. Publishing is democratized, but “longform journalism” is resource-intensive. To report, you need money, which re-subordinates you to gatekeepers and their preferred formats. How do you educate yourself in documentary traditions in this context? How do you go from first attempt to final product, over and over again until you feel the kinks in the wood? One answer is that you take what you can get. You poach a little from the margins. This snapshot journalism is one answer, a low-stakes environment to do little experiments, build miniatures. Poachers settle for less but win the world. They are kicked out of some garden but get a face full of sun in the alley.  As Jeff Sharlet writes, “I’m interested in the snapshot aesthetic, in all the ways in which this breaks out of our convention, out of the golden age of longform, which really has never been more formulaic.”

4. 

Humans of New York dominates this medium with its easily consumable portraiture and personal narrative. Vince Cunningham at the New Yorker puts this aesthetic in a broader context, writing:  

“...HONY joins organizations like ted and the Moth at the vanguard of a slow but certain lexical refashioning. Once an arrangement of events, real or invented, organized with the intent of placing a dagger—artistic, intellectual, moral—between the ribs of a listener or reader, a story has lately become a glossier, less thrilling thing: a burst of pathos, a revelation without a veil to pull away. “Storytelling,” in this parlance, is best employed in the service of illuminating business principles, or selling tickets to non-profit galas, or winning contests.”

But  Cunningham points out that there are other documentary traditions that could be adapted to Instagram. In this light,  projects like @VQRShorts and @EverydayIncarceration are doing something useful, if not utopian. The technology doesn’t require a lukewarm humanitarianism. It could be used to modestly report on systems, processes, and ideas. It could be used to report on fragmented lives. 

What else can a story be? Stories can be different kinds of machines. Stories can be machines designed to let us follow obsessions, become auto-didacts, meet the city where it is at.

“But those who wade in will find that storytelling on Instagram is an awesome hack: a purpose for which the thing wasn’t intended, but at which it excels.”

Will these  stories still become products, still be mainlined, consumed, set in the content stream,  pumped in, probably. Are we still voyeurs, dead in the water, probably. We’re only poaching. This is a little practice.

5.

“It seems to me curious, not to say obscene and thoroughly terrifying, that it could occur to an association of human beings drawn together through need and chance and for profit into a company, an organ of journalism, to pry intimately into the lives of an undefended and appallingly damaged group of human beings, an ignorant and helpless rural family, for the purpose of parading the nakedness, disadvantage and humiliation of these lives before another group of human beings, in the name of science, of "honest journalism" (whatever that paradox may mean), of humanity, of social fearlessness, for money, and for a reputation for crusading and for unbias which, when skillfully enough qualified, is exchangeable at any bank for money (and in politics, for votes, job patronage, abelincolnism, etc.1); and that these people could be capable of meditating this prospect without the slightest doubt of their qualification to do an "honest" piece of work, and with a conscience better than clear, and in the virtual certitude of almost unanimous public approval. It seems curious, further, that the assignment of this work should have fallen to persons having so extremely different a form of respect for the subject, and responsibility toward it, that from the first and inevitably they counted their employers, and that Government likewise to which one of them was bonded, among their most dangerous enemies, acted as spies, guardians, and cheats, and trusted no judgment, however authoritative it claimed to be, save their own: which in many aspects of the task before them was untrained and uninformed. It seems further curious that realizing the extreme corruptness and difficulty of the circumstances, and the unlikelihood of achieving in any untainted form what they wished to achieve, they accepted the work in the first place. And it seems curious still further that, with all their suspicion of and contempt for every person and thing to do with the situation, save only for the tenants and for themselves, and their own intentions, and with all their realization of the seriousness and mystery of the subject, and of the human responsibility they undertook, they so little questioned or doubted their own qualifications for this work.”

-James Agee