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#sometimes I paint on those pots randomly
fictionalfog · 3 months
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Rapid-Fire Older Brothers Headcanons
Mammon and Leviathan have an ongoing bet regarding which one of them has given Lucifer the most grey hairs. Neither of them dare to actually ask Lucifer, though, so it's mostly hypothetical.
Lucifer, as we all know, likes classical music. Sometimes, Levi will try to see how many classical or orchestral versions of random meme songs or game tracks he can play in a row before Lucifer notices what they're listening to. How long he can keep the bit going for varies wildly depending on how familiar Lucifer is with the original songs, but generally, he gets at least a solid five minutes of Lucifer, completely oblivious, listening to the wildest stuff. Mammon usually ends up filming this. A gif they made of Lucifer dancing along to Rush E has become a reaction image in every single group chat he isn't in.
Leviathan will ALSO often play those "[song] but terrible" or "[song] but I got distracted" videos to see how long it takes Lucifer to notice. Those ones tend to get noticed far quicker, though.
Mammon is really into found object art and scavenging for craft supplies. Somewhere, in a desk drawer, Lucifer has a necklace made out of can pull tabs and pretty rocks that he looks at whenever he's mad. Leviathan's favourite coaster is made out of bottlecaps with words and flowers and game logos painted on them. Most of the "mess" in Mammon's room is actually just stuff he hasn't gotten around to actually making into art yet.
Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan have a Minecraft server. It wasm originally just Levi trying to suggest a way for Lucifer to destress, but now it's just them goofing off. Levi built a squid cannon outside of Mammon's base. Lucifer will regularly leave signs in Levi's base, reminding him to drink water and eat something if he's been online for too long. Mammon once lured the Warden all the way to Lucifer's base, named it "Stess," and just... Logged out. Lucifer still hasn't forgiven him.
Sometimes, Leviathan will just walk into Mammon's room, throw something at him, and run for his life. Mammon always catches him. This is always completely unprompted, and nobody knows why he does this. It's just funny to him.
Lucifer has a habit of just staring at people, silently, with no discernible expression. His brothers tend to assume that this means he's angry at them. In reality, it's just because his brain is stuck in a loop of "Baby. Little brother. Tiny. Precious. Little tiny baby. Fragile. Baby. Small." He can't help it. Sometimes, he just randomly remembers how young and fragile his brothers are in comparison to him, and just... Short-circuits. Just full-on bluescreens. He also occasionally does this with Cerberus, but - due to Cerberus being a dog - he'll typically just start actually baby-talking the Goodest Three-Headed Boy. Mammon has caught him doing this a few times.
Levi and Mammon both journal to help them organize their thoughts. Levi's journal is more like a mix of a scrapbook and a diary, full of polaroid photographs and long, poetic accounts of his experiences and emotions. Mammon's journal is more practical, mostly being used to keep track of upcoming events, important things that happened that day, to-do lists, and notes from class or meetings.
Mammon keeps a list of every single person who Leviathan is mad at, and actively refuses to do business with any of them.
Lucifer can drink an entire pot of coffee in less than five minutes. And often does.
Levi & Mammon used to show up to Lucifer's room in the middle of the night back in the Celestial Realm whenever they had nightmares, and bully him into tucking them in and singing them lullabies until they were ready to go back to sleep. They don't do that anymore because they consider themselves too grown up, but there have been a few times that they've seriously considered it. Levi occasionally goes as far as Lucifer's door before changing his mind. If he didn't change his mind, Lucifer would still gladly sing him to sleep - because no matter how big they get, they're still his baby brothers, and he still loves them dearly. But he'd also absolutely hold it over his head for weeks.
Mammon's immune system is near Olympian, and Lucifer's is pretty damn good, too. Leviathan, however, gets sick every single time that someone so much as breathes in his general direction wrong. Whether this is why he never leaves his room or because he never leaves his room is up to interpretation.
One time, one of Mammon's crows got hurt - and for literal months, the entire house was flooded with them while the little guy recovered. There were at least a hundred. They were everywhere. Thanks to this, they're now very familiar with the rest of brothers, too - and can occasionally be found following them around.
Leviathan doesn't just sew his own cosplays - he also sews the vast majority of his clothes. He's also usually the person who fixes the rest of the family's clothes whenever they get damaged, since only him and Asmo have any sewing knowledge whatsoever. One time, Levi made matching plushies for the twins on their birthday.
@leviathanshusband
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whotaughtyougrammar · 2 years
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For the writer asks, 1 and 23 because I’m curious how/where other people write and 18 for “Best of Both Worlds” because I genuinely want to know the backstory for that
1) What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?
I generally use the default setting of whatever program I’m using, so Calibri for word or Arial for Google Docs, but I HAVE used Comic Sans when I was REALLY stuck and I found it helped a little. I don’t know if it was because Comic Sans is supposed to help you get the words out (citation needed) or just because it was the change in font in general that jumpstarted something in my brain. Maybe I’ll switch things up again and see what happens. In any case, the color of the text document matters more to me than the font, lighter colors hurt my eyes so I like darker page colors, though I might also switch that up too, anything to get me writing again lol
23) Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.
Most of the writing I did over the past two years that I purposefully planned to write was done in the dining room; my bedroom doesn’t have a desk and the dining room was the only place that had a table I could use that wasn’t occupied by someone else, because it was also where I did most of my work from home, and then later, my job hunting. I would sit for so long the cushioning on the chair would flatten out and I’d have to rotate out which chair I would sit on every other month or so. I think all those chairs have flat cushions now, whoops lmao
It's generally pretty loud where I live, the TV is usually blaring in the living room or kitchen or both, someone is usually cooking in the kitchen or speaking REALLY LOUDLY on the phone, plus all the noise outside, so I have my headphones on as I write. When I was younger something like noise wouldn’t be much of a problem but now that I’m a little older I find most noises distracting, especially talking noises, so I keep my headphones on, sometimes with music turned down really low, but mostly to muffle the outside noises
I get writing ideas really randomly sometimes. Usually I’ll just take down a few notes in google docs on my phone, or, more often, a line that spontaneously planted itself in my head. It happens the most often when I’m at work in the office, so I obviously can’t devote too much time on it in the moment.
That’s when I write in my bedroom. I don’t have an actual desk, I just prop up my pillows and put my laptop or my iPad on my lap desk and try to get everything done in one sitting so I can get to sleep. My room isn’t the best place to write, I try to do the “sleep hygiene” thing and I find it only works when I’m trying to be productive lol. Maybe if I turned on the light instead of relying on the screen it wouldn’t make me so tired, but if I’m writing in my bedroom, it’s super late at night and I don’t want people being nosy asking why I’m still up. Anyway, there’s something kind of moody and romantic about writing in the small hours of the night that you don’t get when you’re writing at a more sensible time during the day.
18) Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.
This was an interesting one, and not so much “backstory” as much as it is me just giving commentary:
"Makes sense. Glad to see him out and about," Glenn says. He looks relieved, and Morgan doesn’t have time to ask before he’s turning his attention to her. "And what have you been up to? You didn’t have work today?"
"No," Morgan says, finally turning on the front burner to heat the pot sitting on the stove. "It’s my day off. Didn’t do much, just tidied up the house. Ran some errands." Morgan smiles. "Made your favorite for dinner," she says coyly.
To Morgan’s surprise and annoyance, Glenn laughs. "What? You? In the kitchen? That’s good, Freeman. Nice one."
Morgan’s smile fades, and she glares. "Wow, really? I try to do something nice for you and you laugh in my face? 
"Damn, sorry! Sorry! It’s just…" Glenn wraps his arm around Morgan in a loose hug, still snickering quietly. "You just… surprised me. I know how much you don’t like cooking. I’m just teasing, babe. I didn’t think you’d take it like that. You usually don’t."
Morgan lets herself be held, just for a moment, before she shrugs off Glenn’s arm around her. She turns back to the stove, partly to adjust the heat but also partly to hide the childish pout on her lips. "I know I’m not great at it, but somebody has to do it! And I know you’re usually so busy, I feel like it has to be me." Morgan shakes her head, frustrated, swirling the wine around in her wine glass. "You’ve been so… out of it lately, sweetheart. I wanted to do something nice for you. I just figured I could use this day off from the pharmacy to—"
Morgan stops, the cold shock of dread freezing and shattering the words in her throat. She turns back to look at Glenn, sees her stunned silence mirrored in the look on his face.
So I thought I had unknowingly deleted this off my Google Docs, but no, it was just under the title, “you won’t be alone, for your ghosts will be there” which was what I was ORIGINALLY going to call this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I changed the title because I already had a fic that had the word ghost (“one more look at the ghost”) in it and the wip I’m working on now might ALSO have the word ghost in it lmao
I said a long time ago that a lot of my musicverse series was (supposed to be) Glenn dealing with the ghosts haunting him— Morgan, his dad, his past in general, etc.–and that I should have called it “Ghost Stories” instead of “Love is Like Music” but even though the conceit of moving on from Morgan’s death is no longer relevant, I’ve kind of stuck with the “haunted” theme anyway, because the Close-Freemans are all sort of haunted in a way, by their pasts, their futures, by people and lifetimes that may or may not exist anymore.
Truth be told, I’m not exactly sure what compelled me to write this. Chalk it up to a literal shower thought because that line that Morgan drops about her day off from the pharmacy was like a sucker punch to the face that I wanted everyone to experience. I feel like we’ve all had those moments where we’ve done or experienced things that have made you question basically everything you know, or reminded you of what is and will never be again, or at the very least had you going, “Wait, what the fuck?” I’ve been working on my WIP that involves AUs so that might have also contributed to this.
 Also sad to say but Morgan is such a non-entity in canon, I really wanted to show that something that was literally life-altering affected her too, whether she was aware of it or not.
Upon reread, this one was a fic mostly for me lmao. It really only lands if you actually keep up with my fics and my version of Morgan specifically 😅 I also haven’t published any unfinished fics and wips, (ie more of my stuff that features more Morgan) which also makes “Best of Both Worlds” a harder sell. But it was definitely an interesting experiment, trying to write Morgan in such a way that something reads as off but doesn’t completely give away the “Morgan Freeman thinks she’s Morgan Foster” reveal until the end.
I tried my best not to lean into a “downtrodden and beaten down by a life of missed opportunities and people who don’t necessarily treat her with the respect or care she deserves” sort of personality, but I’ve gotta admit, it was and still is in the back of my mind. Her line about not liking to cook or being good at it but feeling like she needs to do it anyway because her spouse is busy kind of exemplifies that for me in a way? Like… you’re a full-time pharmacist but you feel like your husband who probably sits on his ass all day is too busy to help you do something that every able-bodied adult should do?? WHAT??
The “sweetheart” is also another big giveaway! I don’t write Glenn and especially not Morgan as big on pet names. They both have one or two for each other—Glenn uses “babe” pretty often (in fact, he uses it a little too much here, kind of as a “this is fine I am fine and definitely not traumatized” nervous tic) and sometimes “hag” (but definitely much more when they were both younger), Morgan calls him “magpie” when she’s feeling particularly soft and “brat,” again, much more often when they were younger and more antagonistic towards each other—but they mostly refer to each other by surname, though I guess in a way that could also be considered a pet name. It’s something very impersonal turned into something intimate. It’s definitely not a cutesy “sweetheart!”
Speaking of “cutesy” I think the last big “tell” I tried to include was just… her general attitude? I write Morgan Freeman as pretty reserved and though she can be flirtatious she’s definitely not demure or shy about it and she would probably just roll her eyes and take most teasing in stride. Whereas I describe Morgan Foster as kind of coy and pouty and kind of… easily riled up? Doesn’t take teasing well? But like if you weren’t clued in on it, you’d probably just think, “Ooh she’s in a weird mood today. Must’ve woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Right?
The last thing I want to say is I think if I were to write this again, what I would do is lean into the “horror” aspect of it. There is something terrifying about unwittingly and unknowingly living the life of another person who is basically you but not. That’s some uncanny valley shenanigans that needs to be explored more!
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colourfulwatson · 3 years
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I was in the middle of finishing a painting when I realized one of the pots of my cactuses was way too plain… I fixed it with a quick Johnlock doodle <3
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itadoripng · 3 years
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okay it’s time for some stardew valley headcanons for the bachelor/ette(s) so let’s GOOOO
Alex:
- he always awakes before his grandparents, and on warmer days he’ll go down to the beach to watch the sunrise.
- friends with elliot! the two of them sit on the side of the dock sometimes and just chat about life.
- knows how to make cookies, as evelyn taught him when he was a bit younger
- wary of the saloon, as he doesn’t really like the smell of alcohol and only goes into it if he’s forced to!
- if you marry him, he can and will pick you up randomly to surprise you while you’re working!
- if married, he will “bench press” your kids once they become toddlers, and it always makes them giggle
- hates the winter and gets cold really easily. on the first day of fall he’s already bundled up wanting it to be summer again.
Elliot:
- willy is like a father to him. the two of them sit on the docks and watch the fish swim by together
- sometimes he’ll braid his hair, and leah will bring flowers from the forest and weave them into his hair.
- has a rlly pretty singing voice, and likes to record piano covers in his spare time
- if you marry him and the two of u have kids, he’ll always braid their hair in the morning and tuck flowers behind their ears.
- he brings home fresh fish he caught and makes himself dinner every night. that’s why he’s an excellent cook.
- has actually caught a legendary fish before!
- his eyes change color, they can go from blue to green to brown in the same day. people call them the “prismatic shard of eyes”
Harvey:
- he’s so clumsy that sometimes he’ll even trip over air. due to this, he has little bruises all over his knees and elbows.
- his favorite animals are birds. sometimes he’ll go outside and just give them some bird seed. he loves watching them fly around.
- not only is he fascinated with planes, but he’s also fascinated with the weather. as a kid he used to watch the weather channel, and he dreamed of becoming a weatherman.
- when he needs to focus really hard, he’ll pull his hair back with a headband
- him and his mother were and still are very close, and he writes letters to her at least once a week
- he cannot cook to save his life, but he’s an incredible baker! will make you little treats if you’re friends or married
- he always wears a wristwatch, but the time is always 6 minutes behind. he likes it because it has a plane engraved into the side against his wrist.
Sam:
- he had adhd, and his stims include flapping his hands, tapping his foot and strumming his guitar
- he has a beautiful singing voice, think like wilbur soot but a bit more high pitched?
- the reason he likes cactus fruit so much is because he just plants them and lets them grow. he loves succulents because they don’t give him an allergic reaction!
- cannot play video games for shit. sebastian and abigail have banned him from multi-player games because he just sucks so bad.
- love language is acts of service, simply because he likes singing for people he cares about and doing little things for them!
- if you marry him, he will bring his guitar into the coop and/or barn and sing to the animals. they have learned to run over a greet him, since they love his singing.
- his hair is actually curly, but you’re unable to tell due to how much he gels and straightens his hair.
- has mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes
Sebastian:
- loves the hell out of halloween, but is scared of literally everything. he nearly cried watching a horror movie with sam and abigail.
- really good with a slingshot! so if he were to go into the mines, he would wreck some monsters shit with his slingshot skills
- he had glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, but removed them. he used to love the stars and space, but came to resent them because it was his sisters thing.
- he like…irl blushes. like an anime character. when he’s embarrassed, upset, flustered, his face will go all pink. everyone picks on him for it.
- has/had a crush on most of the towns singles. he is a bisexual disaster and secretly a romantic so….take from that what you will.
- a natural born ginger, but dyes his hair. he also has freckles on his nose! and he has an eyebrow slit because of a scar!!
- for some stupid reason, he takes really good care of his hands? like he always makes sure they don’t get calloused, and his nails are always painted black, despite using his hands all the time for work.
Shane:
- he cannot cook. he burned pasta noodles because he didn’t know you had to put water in the pan.
- he still has a chicken plushie from when he was a baby, and it still sits on his bed. and if he cuddles with it at night? no one needs to know.
- has a huge birthmark on his side shaped like a heart
- really good at mixology, so i think that when joja gets shut down, shane works at the saloon and makes the drinks while gus cooks. he adds a whole new section on the menu!
- friends with sebastian. they paint each other’s nails from time to time, or sit in the rain together and just talk.
- kinda strong as hell? he lifts boxes in joja for work, as well as carrying around jas, so i’m assuming he could just….pick the farmer and his friends up?
- he has the most contagious laugh, it used to be a rare sound, but now that it’s a pretty common occurrence, shane makes people laugh all the time with his own laugh.
Abigail:
- buff. she is buff as hell. her and alex work out together sometimes, since she expressed a desire for adventure. she has picked up sam and sebastian with no warning and thrown them into the ocean
- can talk to animals due to her being the daughter of the wizard! so sometimes she’ll go to marnies farm and just chat with the cows or something
- if she sees a tree, she WILL climb it. she loves it so much, it’s just so adrenaline inducing for her.
- her and sebastian tried to go into the mines before but sam stopped them because it wouldn’t have been very safe. they were all 14.
- trying to learn to play the ukulele with a little help from sam. it’s frustrating, but she really likes the sound of it, and she’s determined as hell.
- absolutely cracked at any and all video games he plays. mario kart? she will kick your ass. animal crossing? her island has 5 stars. pokémon? she always wins. you can’t stop her, she’s too powerful.
- she has glasses, but prefers contacts, since glasses would get in the way of her adventuring.
Emily:
- not only can she sew, but she also makes her own soaps and candles! any form of creation she adores.
- loves flowers, and has a lot of little potted ones in her room. she raises them, gives them little names and personalities, and then brings them to sandy and tells her all about each flower
- she can roller skate, and it’s her preferred method of transportation. she can do a bunch of fun tricks as well!
- has an eyebrow slit
- making cute little baskets of homemade gifts is her favorite thing to do for her friends. sometimes she’ll just leave them on their doorsteps for no reason other than she wants to!
- can SPRINT in heels. like even 6 inch heels she can just RUN and it scares everyone who sees it.
- she loves the sounds of birds chirping in the morning, and she’s able to identify the name of the bird by its chirping and calls
Haley:
- is able to perfectly crack and drink from coconuts. that’s why she loves them so much.
- has the worst sense of direction. she’s lucky she lives in a small town, or she’d get lost all the time
- the spring is her favorite time of year, simply because she loves to capture life coming back in those spring months. baby animals, blooming flowers, her friends on the beach or just chilling in the sun, all of it
- her most prized possession is the very first picture her and emily took as kids on their parents polaroid. it’s taped to her mirror
- has a little beauty mark under her lip, but it normally isn’t visible due to being covered with makeup!
- she’s able to do her own nails! this is because she is ambidextrous, yet she doesn’t know, because it’s never been brought up
- she fucking LOVES learning about and identifying plants, trees and flowers. she knows so many it’s crazy. she has a great memory.
Leah:
- resident true crime enthusiast and ghost hunter. she drags elliot with her around town to go hunting for ghosts. they also watch documentaries together!
- has a bunch of little scars on her hands from her artwork
- to get inspiration for works, she’ll go on walks at different times of the day, different seasons, different routes, and she’ll turn each walk into a work of art. depending on all the environment and those who she runs into, each piece is vastly different.
- animals love her, and will sometimes just follow her around for no reason. she doesn’t mind at all, she kinda loves it.
- friends with emily. they are currently teaching each other their own forms of art, since they love learning from each other!
- really good at dancing, she’ll dance while she’s working on projects and she’ll hum a song to herself
- her favorite statue was created after she went on a walk, ran into abigail, and the two of them went swimming in the ocean and stayed there as the sun set and the stars came out. she has a little crush on abigail.
Maru:
- her hair is ALWAYS tied up, it’s impossible for her to work if her hair is in her eyes
- when she was a kid she wanted to be an astronaut, because she loves the stars, but she found she prefers the science and math behind it all
- she pierced her own ears, she has little star earrings!
- watches cartoons and geeks out about them with penny when they meet up in town!
- for some odd reason, she is terrified of butterflies. no one who knows her, or even maru herself have ANY idea why, but she will run away if she sees one.
- her favorite memory was the one night her and sebastian stayed up really late as kids and snuck outside to look at the stars (back when sebastian still loved them) and they ended up seeing a meteor shower
- she presses flowers as a hobby, and just keeps them in a little notebook alongside her ideas for projects and gadgets.
Penny:
- while she’s cleaning her and pam’s home, she finds herself singing to herself. she has yet to be caught by anyone
- each day, her hair is done ever-so-slightly different. each morning, she likes to change it up, and sometimes jas or vincent will give her something to put in her hair
- also interested in ghosts, will occasionally join elliot and leah on their adventures
- she is naturally really warm, so she doesn’t have to bundle up as much during the winter. the kids cling to her because she’s like a human space heater
- has a bit of a geeky side, and she loves to watch cartoons a lot. when she can find the time, she always watches them. they being her lots of comfort.
- has a small scar on her side from when she tripped over as a child onto something sharp. she likes it because with two freckles, it makes a little smiley face
- loves the water and the feeling of sea wind in her hair. she secretly wants to learn to drive a boat, so she can feel that wind in her hair whenever she wants.
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Forms of Witchcraft
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•Dolls and Poppets
Poppets are the English terms for what movies call a ‘voodoo doll’. Voodoo doll is a misnomer, and does nothing for either poppets or Haitian magic.
Poppets can be used for a couple of things – mainly either cursing or healing. This doesn’t always have to be physical curses/cures – poppets can also be used to influence thought patterns.
Dolls can also be used to provide homes for Spirits, or used to create guardians. You can also use a doll as a scapegoat to prevent a curse from latching onto you.
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•Shrinemaking
Shrine making is less a way to create a defined outcome, and more a way of pleasing Spirits who you may later want to call upon. It’s kinda like taking your new neighbours a pie, in case you ever need them to watch the house whilst you’re away. The pie is an overture to a friendly relationship, not direct payment for the house sitting. However, if you just blundered into their garden one day and offered them £100 to watch the house, they’d probably tell you to get lost. Randomly calling up Spirits, Saint or Deities can have the same effect. I mean, would you help someone get a job if they just banged on your door and waved some incense at you? Get your local Spirits pies. Find out what scents, and objects, and offerings that they like. Keep the land around you clean, and pick up after other people if you can. Use your vote and your money to protect the land from logging and fracking. Build a dedicated ‘meeting space’ where you call up Spirits, and fill it full of pictures of them or things they like. It pays dividends in the future.
Shrinemaking can also be used to help bless and protect your home and land. By connecting with the other Spirits that are there, you solidify the relationship, and can work together against intruders.
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•Bottles and Jars
Witch bottles (or spell jars)  are fun, easy ways to create a variety of effects. As a spell base, they can be effective for:
* money
* love
* friendship
* animal work
* protection
Some people define a witch bottle as strictly the traditional version which is used as a scapegoat, and call other spells involving bottles and jars ‘spell jars’. Some people use the term witch bottle to encompass all magics involving jars.
You can learn about all types of bottle magic in the free course which you can sign up for below!
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•Candles
Candle magic is a much more modern form of magic than you’d think – especially if we’re talking coloured candles. Candles were very precious objects in the past! However, it was not an unusual item to have, like a hunk of crystal or fairy doll, which is why they became an item to use for undetected witchcraft – like brooms, and cauldrons.
As candles have got cheaper and cheaper and less needed to be used for lighting, much more forms and types of magic have sprung up around them. With the addition of coloured waxes or painted candles, the sorts of magic you can do with candles has grown exponentially.
Candles are a subset of fire magic and therefore are fantastic for banishing, but they are often the beginners tool of choice. It’s easy to understand why – easy to get hold of, easy to use, and there’s as much fancy ritual needed as you feel inclined to give it.
When you want to expand your knowledge, you can still stick with candles – but investigate the use of oils, herbs and crystals in conjunction with candles.
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•Crystals and Rocks
Crystals and rocks are often used as ‘ingredients’ in other spells. They are very easy to add to bottles, pouches, dolls and more. However, you can also use crystals in spell work solely on their own by adding them to your pillow, till, money box, plant pot, etc.
Their use goes much further than this, but that enters the realm of energy healing which is a part of many traditions and is a very dedicated and intensive practice all by itself, and too much to explain here.
Air
You can utilize the powers of air in a lot of ways. It’s usually good for cleansing spells – think sweeping with a ritual broom, burning incense (smoke=air, not fire), ringing bells or playing bowls, singing, using flags and wheels. Air methods tend to return quick results.
Earth
Earth brings slow results, but they tend to be larger. Earth practices include enchanting seeds that will bring you money as they grow, burying offerings in the Earth, making vessels and spells out of clay, or writing spells in the mud.
Fire
Fire can bring things into your life, but is much better used to get rid of them – for beginners, anyway. If there is anything in your life that you wish to get rid of, you can write or draw a representation of it and cast it into the fire to remove it.
Water
Water can take the longest time to bring you what you need. However, think of water pounding against a rock. Drips of water became rivers, became waterfalls. Water can often bring you the biggest results, but it may take a long time.
Water spells can include potions (see below), but can also include ritual baths, leaving offers in water, or giving up bad energy or habits to the ocean.
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•Bones
Bones are a contentious subject in witchcraft. Some people will never use them, some people’s practice is not complete without them. You can actually get bones in an ethical manner, by either cleaning up roadkill yourself or paying someone to do it for you, or literally keeping the bones from your dinner!
Some uses for bones are:
* Telling the future (casting bones or lots)
* Housing the Spirit of the animal so you can work with them
* Form parts of wands or ritual jewellery or headresses
* Ingredients in pouches
Tarot, Runes and Ogham
You can use all of these fortune telling tools in spells, too! You can choose one of them that has a characteristic or represents an outcome that you’d like. So if you wanted a new job, you might choose the Ace of Pentacles. Then you could do any one of the following with it:
* Use it to focus a candle spell
* Add it to a pouch or bag spell
* Add it to a jar spell
* Use it in lieu of a sigil
* Make a vision board around it
* Even burn it! (You can get single Tarot cards for this purpose on eBay.)
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•Potions and Elixirs
Potion Magic used to be a lot more popular. Whilst elixirs, tisanes and tea blends are still popular for use on yourself, the masses of recipes of potions, philtres and similar recipes have all but died out. That’s because a lot of potion magic is only to be used in desperate circumstances, like love potions and curses. The reason so many old fashioned love potions are beyond creepy and controlling is that woman’s husband was her meal ticket. If he left her, not only would she be blamed, but she would be out of a house, food and her own family probably wouldn’t take her in. She had shamed them all. (Often through no actual fault of her own.) She was literally facing public humiliation, being outcast, perhaps even starving to death – and sometimes her children along with here.
So dousing  a lover or husband’s food with love potion made a lot more sense then, than it does now.
Thankfully, most of us don’t live in those circumstances any more, so a lot of philtre or potion use has died out. However, there are still some amazing things you can make to ingest yourself:
* Tea blends
* Tisanes (herbals teas)
* Bath spells
* Lunar or solar water
* Herbal Oils
Spoken Magic
Spoken Magic can be long and complicated, or very short. It doesn’t have to rhyme (but it can) it doesn’t have to flow like poetry (but it can). You can use spoken incantation to help direct energy when you’re using other methods, but you can also use it on it’s own.
Some examples of spoken magic:
* Affirmations
* Words of power
* Singing
* Ritual Offerings
* Wishes
You can even banish Spirit’s solely through your voice. Shouting ‘Leave!’ with the correct intention can be very powerful.
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•Written Magic
Written magic has existed since we could write. Many cultures view writing AS magic. Think about it – 26 (or thereabouts, depends on your alphabet) tiny squiggles can become anything when placed in the right order. Dumbledore was right about the power of words.
Written magic can include:
* Petitions to Spirits
* Magic squares
* Words of power or protection
* Wishes
* Tattoos
* Rune work
Bag and Pouch Magic
There is all kinds of bag magic – from mojo bags, to more modern spell envelopes. The main idea behind bag or pouch magic is that keeping a carefully curated selection of objects together for a certain time period will produce the effects that you want. A lot of bag magic produces indefinite spells  provided they are charged. Such bags usually grant the wearer protection, prosperity, luck or good health. However, there are bag magics wear a specific time limited spell is wanted – invisibility spells, hex breakers and the like.
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•Enchantments and Glamours
Enchantment covers a variety of spell types, but theme of the spells are pretty much the same. Enchantment covers a lot of the old folklore kind of witchcraft – hidden worlds, changing age, changing into different animals and so on.
Enchanting something fools the viewer into believing something is there when it is not, or isn’t there when it is, or is something completely different.
Think of the Harry Potter scene where Hermione explains that the ceiling of the Great Hall isn’t a real sky, it’s just enchanted to look that way.
Real enchantment can be done for fun, but they can also be useful pieces of magic. You can enchant jewelry, clothes or makeup to bestow certain personality traits upon you. You can enchant your witchy items to look normal if you’re fearful of discovery. The possibilities are just about endless.
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beware-of-you-98 · 3 years
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BAU as College Professors AU
*cracks knuckles*
Penelope
penelope is a graphic design professor
she loves teaching kids about the wonders of photoshop!!
hates illustrator and indesign with a burning passion
(the illustrator pen tool can fucking choke for all she cares)
(AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT THE FRONT AND COVER TOGETHER IN INDESIGN!?!?)
(she really hates both applications sm 😭)
is always reluctant to teach them but does it begrudgingly
(she’s just glad there’s other professors in the department that teach editorial and graphic illustration)
teaches photography!!
encourages the students to be as expressive as they want to be with their pictures!!!
she’ll be just as enthusiastic to see a close up of a sneaker as she is to see a sunset landscape shot
teaches the graphic design studio classes too!!
she always has music playing!!
half the time, her students come into the class and her glasses are all skewed, her hands are covered in paint or glue and some abstract art piece is sitting on her desk
when the students ask her what it is, she just gives the projects human names
“hey professor... what did you make there?” “oh, this?? her name is... pam.... yeah, pam”
she doesn’t offer up any further explination than that
and the students just accept it
her office light is always off
but she has multiple fairy lights in various colors hung up
her office is v inviting!!!
students come to her to vent or to talk about their problems bc the campus therapist doesn’t help all lmao
she always has on the most unique outfits but she pulls them off so well
a ray of sunshine tbh!!
Spencer
teaches major science and math courses
he teaches chemistry but only chem for majors in chemistry
it’s not that he can’t teach chem for non majors
but he sometimes gets too ahead of himself and forgets he’s teaching a course for non majors
it’s easier for him to teach for majors because the students can follow his ramblings better
he teaches upper level math courses and usually only has like three students in those classes
he’ll sit up on his desk and debate with the students for the entire hour about the riemann hypothesis
he gets excited because the students are just as enthusiastic as he is
he is two extremes
he either shows up to his classroom like a half hour early and writes out all his notes on the board so that when the students come in, he can go right into lecture
or he’ll show up two minutes before class starts with his hair disheveled, his tie undone and his expression glazed over and just be like “listen up i woke up late and just downed an entire pot of coffee i brewed with several cans of monster energy—i don’t exist on this dimension anymore”
on those days, he lets his students work on other projects for other classes because he knows it’s not fair to ask his students to focus if he’s not
he helps them with their homework
penelope brings him lunch sometimes to make sure he’s eating
he appreciates it a lot because between lesson plans and grading, he sometimes forgets to eat
he’s absolutely the youngest prof on campus
sometimes even his students are older than he is
but everyone addresses him correctly and respects him bc he’s really chill
his office is a disorganized mess
there’s files and papers all over his desk
and a sculpture penelope made for him (she named that one “roger”)
JJ
psychology professor
she really has a passion for teaching and learning about human psychology
(she may have started to become interested in psychology bc her sister was in the psch honors course before she died)
she comes across as a little hostile and unapproachable tbh
but she’s young
and she’s attractive
and she’s not conveniently what people think a professor looks like
she’ll respect her students if they respect her
she didn’t graduate the top of her class and work her ass off for the degree to not be respected
if there’s any inappropriate comments aimmed towards her or anyone in the class, she kicks the aggressor out immediately
she stands at the front of the room and lectures for the beginning part of the semester
once she’s built a good rapport with her students (and vise versa), she becomes more chill
she’ll sit on the edge of her desk and encourage discussion rather than following a book or a set plan
(she finds it’s more interesting that way anyway)
sometimes her students will show up ten minutes before class starts just to talk with her once they’re comfortable with her
she always answers her emails students send her (queen shit tbh 👑)
some kids in the psych major course playfully call her “mom” because she always asks them how they’re doing and about their week
(she hasn’t decided how she feels about it, but she also lets it slide)
always wears pants suits but cuffs the sleeves to the jackets
her office always smells like eucalyptus because she has a small mist diffuser plugged in
she also has a small fish tank with a beta fish inside (its the appropriate size too!!)
(she let a student name the fish—it’s name is sir bubbles of argon)
she also has a sculpture from penelope (“her name is maxine”)
her desk is very organized and clean!!
there’s a small couch in her office and her door is always open
sometimes, students will come in if they’re having a hard time and need someone to talk to
they know jj is there to listen and she always seems to understand (she doesn’t judge them either)
Emily
teaches three languages, both for majors and non majors
spanish, french and russian
(she’s also quite fluent in arabic and italian and can hold her own if she’s speaking in german or mandarin, but the students don’t need to know that)
she’s actually very intimidating lmao
students are so scared of her 😭
she’s serious af
(she smiles in class sometimes though!!)
(besides, she’s only serious inside the classroom)
(outside the classroom, she might even be as approachable as penelope)
always dressed in expensive black suits, polished heeled shoes with very dark makeup and a “don’t fuck with me” steely attitude to match
she also wears expensive watches
she always stands at the front of the class and slowly paces the entire hour
one time someone decided to fuck off in her spanish 101 class
she didn’t even yell at him, she glared
rumor has it the kid was never spotted on campus again after that
(BOY SHE SCARED HIM SO BAD HE DROPPED TF OUT)
despite that, her classes are some of the easiest to take
one because emily has a way of teaching that helps all students understand
and two because her voice is naturally very easy to listen to
students taking her french 101 are going to leave the class speaking fluent conversational french
she also doesn’t tolerate people being racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc in her class
if she catches a bigoted comment someone makes in her class, she kicks them immediately
she brings in her cat sometimes
he’s all black and his name is sergio
(he’s her esa that she brings in when she’s feeling really stressed out)
he’s clipped on a harness and sits on her shoulder or on her desk
if he meows, she accepts it as an answer
it’s the only time the students ever see professor emily prentiss as soft
well
other than the days she has the class watch foreign films because the students can tell emily has a fondness for them
her office is pretty organized like jj’s
instead of it being light and inviting, emily decorated her office on a more dark side
she has a few animal skulls, crystals and other gothic memorabilia on her desk or bookshelf
she has a small cat bed on the corner of her desk that sergio sleeps in
on the other corner is a sculpture penelope made her
(it kinda looks like a crow and emily named it kurt)
really, the only colors in her office are dark, deep purples and the small lesbian pride flag sticker on the back of her laptop
Derek
teaches history classes
but like modern history
from like 1940s to present
he refuses to follow most western history books bc they’re not accurate like at all
in his first year of teaching, the dean of his department made him use a book and he hated every second of it
how accurate could the information be if they portray king tut as a white guy???
he graduated under one of the best historians in the country
he also traveled a lot after he graduated and met a lot of people that had first hand experience with major historical events
that’s really what he bases his teachings off of—first hand experiences and encounters
every two weeks or so, he’ll invite in guest speakers to his classes to talk about what they went through (depending on his lesson plans)
that’s how he likes to teach and learn (bc he always loves to learn new things!!)
this is random, but also he is the type of professor to randomly box jump up onto a desk
he also sits in chairs backwards and has a more laid back style to teaching
his exams are based on what the students can learn from history rather than the information itself
he’s always dressed super casual!!
solid color, short sleeve button ups are a favorite!! (no tie)
he gets along with all the students
he’ll talk to the athletes about their games but sound just as enthusiastic and genuine talking with students who are majors in fine arts about their projects
he’s just a v down to earth professor tbh!!
he brings in clooney so much
like... every friday
it’s just another bonus of taking his history classes!!
he and penelope are dating
his office is full of sculptures she makes for him 🥺
he drops by her graphic design studio class with clooney to help out or even to just watch
he’s supportive and encouraging of penelope and her art!!
other than the sculptures penelope makes him, his office is a bit more disorganized than jj’s or emily’s, but cleaner than spencer’s
he has a few papers scattered on his desk but mostly he’s a little more put together
his office door has a small basketball hoop attached that he plays around with if he’s bored (and if penelope is busy)
both he and penelope have a dog bed in their office and water bowls for clooney when he comes in
Hotch
law professor
is the most intimidating professor on campus
like
seriously
if students think professor prentiss is intimidating, they haven’t met professor hotchner
he stands in the front of the room and goes over his lecture without pausing or asking questions
his voice is naturally low and intimidating and he actually never smiles
his attire and appearance is always so professional
suits
ties that are tied so tight, they look like they’re choking him
shoes so polished, he can see his reflection in them
hair always styled neatly
pants and jacket are always wrinkle free
his classes are difficult
not just because of the subject matter, but because he has a very organized, straight forward method to his teaching
students wouldn’t dare act up in his class—they’d be absolute idiots to
he’s quiet and reserved outside the classroom
if the others hear anyone talking shit about hotch behind his back, they’re always quick to come to his defense
they actually know hotch
they know he puts on a hardass exterior, but really he’s just a softie
he always lets them hang in his office with him
he listens to spencer’s ramblings and is extremely patient with him
he has lunch with emily every other day
even if she’s a pain in his ass 99% of the time, he likes that she sticks around and that he can trust her
he shows up to all of penelope’s art shows
and sometimes sits in on derek’s lectures when he has guest speakers
jj brings him pastries from the coffee shop on campus sometimes
he knows that he can come to her if he ever has anything he needs to talk about
(he never opens up to her but he really appreciates the sentiment nonetheless)
penelope has definitely made hotch a few sculptures
(he keeps them at home, but he does have one of her paintings hanging in his office)
speaking of his office it’s hands down the most organized out of all of them
his desk is so clean besides the picture of his son he proudly displays at the corner
he always has his lights off and his door shut
he seems so unapproachable, especially in class
but sometimes his lecture notes have crayon scribbles all over the page
or a small sock will fall out of his briefcase
and maybe, even for a moment, his serious demeanor falls when he spots them
and it almost reassures the students that he is human
Rossi
actually he’s the only one besides maybe reid i can see being a criminology professor
is a retired fbi agent
and successful author
so like that hasn’t changed from canon
but because he doesn’t work for the fbi anymore, he has absolutely no chill and tells all secrets
he’ll be like
talking to his class about a case he worked on in ‘83
and be halfway talking about details of cases that were supposed to be confidential
he’ll pause and go “oops” but keep talking lmaooo
penelope actually never made him a sculpture
instead she made him a coffee mug she made on the wheel and glazed herself!! (she even made her own glaze bc she’s extra like that)
carved on the side is “world’s best italian dad”
(this is because when emily introduced rossi to the group she was like “yeah he’s kinda like my dad” and now everyone calls him “dad”)
(he loves it so much though and proudly accepts his title)
he loves his mug so much and uses it every single day!!!
he’s the only professor besides penelope that let his students refer to him without the title of “professor”
he gives off kind old grandpa vibes
and that he’s only teaching because he really doesn’t have anything better to do during his retirement
but he’s chill and his class is interesting to take
(plus he really does love to teach)
he’ll ramble on and on about his “golden years” as an agent
he will especially talk a student’s ear off if they come up to him and tell him that they read one [or all] of his books
he writes a different quote on his board every single day
his attire is always business casual
he sits on the edge of the desk or on a swivel chair because it’s comfy
he was doing a lecture on jack the ripper and just pushed himself around on the swivel chair, slowly spinning around the front of the room
his voice kept changing in volume every few words because of him facing the wall and then a few moments later facing the classroom
his students refer to him as a “living breathing meme”
he has no idea what the fuck that means
but he take it as a compliment
his office is empty because he goes home after he’s done with classes lmao
he doesn’t do paperwork
or fuck with technology (he never fucking responds to emails smh)
so he has no need for an office
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ashtonq247 · 4 years
Text
Kaminari Denki headcannons!!
Bc it’s his bday and I love him (this will not cover his fam bc I switch between backstories with him so much that I just have no clue)
Buckle up bc this is a very long post I did not mean to get this deep lol
Let’s start with the most obvious- he makes friends easily, but I’m not just talking other students, I’m also talking the staff. This boy makes friends with the janitors and the lunch ladies and even the teachers!! He also makes friends with the security bots and pranks them a lot
This stems from him wanting ppl to like him. I think this bc of the fact that his character sheet says he likes all things “trendy” - I think he rlly wants to be known as the cool guy bc he is rlly insecure of himself
And as much as I think he is very trendy, I also think he is a big literature nerd! I believe he is more likely to listen to audio books tho, but I’m not entirely 100% sure though. He tries to keep this underwrap, but eventually he does join momo’s book club and brings completely different analysis to the table :D
He is just generally into the arts (we see this in cannon- he plays guitar, is seen drawing Aizawa, references Hemingway) so I see him as a more creative guy rather than a logically minded dude
This boy has adhd, anxiety, and dyslexia and dyscalcula (he was able to work through dyslexia bc he read so much, but still has problems with his dyscalcula) and this causes issues for him in school. He also a HUGE procrastinator. He often feels stupid and dumb bc if it (also doesn’t help that even his friends joke abt it too, but as long as it’s just a joke he shouldn’t make a big deal abt it right??)
I say he has anxiety because of the way he reacts to when he is training- always panicking and frying his brain. I think what stans between him and being rlly op is his anxiety and view of himself
Speaking of him frying his brain, I headcannon he has litchenburg figures, which if u don’t know r these rlly cool scars that look kinda like branches with what kinda looks like flowers so cool tbh, and BEFORE u say “he obviously doesn’t have them cannonly” let me just say that his quirk affects his brain cannonly!! It’s not weird for it to also affect his skin!!! I think he might have had litchenburg figures if they were more commonly known as it is a very cool thing tbh
I also think that bc his brain gets impacted by his quirk, sometimes his nerves get impacted too. This means he sometimes can’t taste food (and he doesn’t eat it when he can’t taste it, which pisses Bakugo off) and he also can’t feel things as well (I believe the class figures this out after Denki went to poor himself some tea but didn’t know the kettle was still rlly hot and so he grabbed it not knowing he was burning himself until he handed it over to someone who then dropped the pot bc it was so hot- needles to say he had to go to recovery girl that day)
He has never been to the aquarium bc as a child he had terrible control over his quirk and that made ppl nervous to put him near water (he goes as a teen with the bakusquad and is absolutely floored- his favorite creatures are of course all the sting rays, jelly fish, and electric eel- cue bakusquad comparing him to the brainless jellyfish)
He also doesn’t know how to swim till he was in middle school (once he was in better control of his quirk he went out and learned to swim on his own bc he had to learn how if he wanted to be a hero u know? He never quit got the hang of it tho)
Storms make him very energized and his already low ability to focus worsens. Prone to accidentally zapping ppl. He mostly stays in his room when storms happen bc he doesn’t want to hurt ppl/ wreck electronics on accident. He doesn’t even get to chat with friends on the phone bc he would wreck it so storms get rlly lonely :(
Also is basically a lightning rod. It hurts bc of how forceful it is, but it’s also not that big of a deal to him
Is prtty forgetful unfortunately due to all the times he fried his brain. It’s something he really tries not to think about
He probs can’t sleep very easily due to all his energy
He hates frying his brain bc it’s very hard to understand what’s going on when he does. Everything is a lot more sluggish and things are simultaneously way too much and he gets hyper sensitive and at the same time his senses are also very groggy and weird. It’s over all a bad time, but he got used to it
Whenever he fried his brain instead of being all wheyyy and thumbs upy he use to act more vegetative which rlly freaked ppl out so he eventually learned to get to where he is now when he fries his brain
Kids use to take advantage of his whey mode and do pranks on him which often got him hurt, but he never rlly felt it at first so he didn’t mind to bad. As long it was just joking and they were having fun right??
Time for happy ones!! His favorite foods (besides burgers, those r his favorite cannonly) all have some coralation with memes (speggeti tacos, mac n cheese, “chonky” milk, chicken nuggy, etc)
He is a meme lord yes
Stans pikachu (obvi)
U cannot convince me that he doesn’t paint his nails black, maybe with a little lightning bolt on his middle finger. This boy cannonly wears a choker common
He does face masks with Mina!! I believe he cares abt his looks greatly, and does beauty routines with Mina all the time. I’m constantly switching btween wether or not he owns it, or is a bit insecure and tries not to show this side to much to the boys
Why does this show not give him skinny jeans?? I mean common his entire style calls for skinny jeans. Maybe it’s Japan fashion or smth bc if it was in America he’d have skinny jeans bc it’s the trendy thing u know
Cannot cook. Can barely work the microwave. Claims unmarked food and eats it at midnight
Has a lot of weird info stored in his brain- how weather works, psychology stuff, weird facts abt bees, etc- that he learns randomly, never rlly trying to learn them but it sort of just happens u know. This frustrates Bakugo and jirou to no end bc he knows all these useless facts about how 1,200,000 mosquitos is all it takes for them to all at once drain a human of all their blood in a second, but not about how to work the pathagorean theorem
Idk why I think this (and it’s a popular headcannon too), but he knows at least 3/4 languages. It just suits him?? Bc he is a ppl person??? I don’t know??
Gets major test anxiety
Teachers either love him or hate him no in between. A lot of his elementary teachers absolutely hated him and would tear him down by calling him stupid and annoying. In middle school when he learns to control his quirk better, teachers rlly liked him- in the way that class clown trouble makers are liked by teachers. He may not excel in his class but he is a pretty funny dude.
He is constantly either underestimated or overestimated. Kaminari himself does this as well. It’s part of the issue with his hero training
Cats do not like him. They may like being petted bc if the static electricity, but when Kami pets cats he just absorbs the static- no pleasure :(((- or he accidentally has too much static electricity. If so then only tge rlly fluffy cats like him. Either case, shinsou finds a cat that likes kaminari as well and it is very cute :33
THE class prankster. Even on the teachers! The death glare Aizawa gave him on the one time prancing him worked is one kaminari will never forget (he still tries to prank him despite this lol)
Constantly teasing Bakugo as a way to press his buttons. It’s debatable on wether or not this helps bakugo’s anger issues
He is the wingman between Bakugo and Kirishima change my mind!!
Also mandatory kaminari is bisexual headcannon bc he rlly gives me those vibes. I think he doesn’t know yet that he’s bisexual, and when he thinks a fellow bro is hot he thinks he’s just admiring his bro u know. Maybe even thinks he is jealous. He does flirt with all genders tho mostly as a joke. He draws dicks as jokes but he always puts a little too much detail in them for him to rlly be straight
Can be used as a defibrillator as long as he can focus
Honestly there’s so much stuff kaminari has the potential to do with his quirk it’s a shame the manga/anime doesn’t use it
Like I rlly want to see him use his quirk in training to blow out all the lights in a building so he can use it for his advantage
That’d be badass
Also his quirk makes him very hard to be caught when their training. He can slip out of ppls grasp easily with a shock, and he also just has good reflexes in genral (I think this is cannon). Cue class 1-a running around trying and failing to catch him lol. Their best bet is to get him to fry his brain :(
He was popular in school before UA bc of his quirk and bc of how charming and easy to get a long with he is. This lead a lot of his friends to be very shallow. He didn’t rlly think about wether or not someone was trying to be his friend or not, he just liked being liked. This lead him to his whole liking trendy things, and he often felt that if he wasn’t seen as cool or funny his friends would all leave him. His whole rlly liking to talk thing caused a lot of ppl to think he was annoying at times, but he was never rlly able to lose that trait
The bakusquad was the first friend group he got rlly close too. He felt he can be himself around them and be the crackhead he was always meant to be. He still always concerned about wether they might leave him if he’s too annoying bc of anxiety but he’s getting better :)
He is a bringer of chaos and that’s part of his charm! Never dull with Denki around. He’s always doing the weirdest stuff, and ever since Mina, Kiri, and Sero, this has only doubled!
He is always calling Momo a genius (bc she is) and they are rlly good friends
Is an unofficial emo squad member (just look at his hero costume)
A sinnamon roll I’m srry but he ain’t a cinnamon roll. He has a dirty mind lol
Peepee jokes
Probably does tik tok dances I’m sorry
Nintendo fan for life
Xbox or PlayStation?- “Nintendo wut u mean”
Abbreviates so much it’s kinda hard to read,. Like if u thought I was bad this boy is soo much worse
It’s kinda ironic bc he has a very large vocabulary lol
He only uses it when he’s being sassy or very passionate
Mixes his gen z lingo with his big brain vicab to create atrocities of sentences
”bro the rise of the proletariat is lit tbh”
He is the worst to text with. He gives Bakugo aneurysms
Yeet yote to be yoted
3am shower thoughts
Unpopular opinion: i don’t think he likes weed. It probs reminds him too much of his whey mode
He’s a good strategist, but let’s the other team members think of the plans bc of insecurity, and otherwise his anxiety causes his smartness to shut down
Very good at zoning out. Sometimes he accidentally zones out so hard during class he misses the entire lesson and is only brought out bc of the school bell. Aizawa is best at snapping him out of it
Tbh I don’t think UA would be good with mental health. You’d think they’d hire a professional therapist or smth, but maybe it’s bc hero’s are so glorified ppl don’t ever think about these issues
I doubt the teachers had very good teacher training u know
We’ve mostly seen young heroes. I bet that’s bc they die so often, and if they don’t die in battle the mental health issues that stem from trauma and the media’s pressure are such an issue that it’s not uncommon for hero work to have high suicide rates
Anyway I’m starting to lose track of things thanks for coming to my ted talk I think I’ll stop here
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heli0s-writes · 5 years
Text
IV. The First Taste*
Summary: NSFW Chapter. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy!
Slow Like Honey Masterpost
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Since you kissed Steve Rogers in your classroom on that Thursday afternoon, you’ve kissed him again and again after each meeting. It’s been precisely two more lunch dates, one more dinner date, and one long walk in the park on his day off before he was suddenly called in for an emergency pastry situation. That’s five kisses. Five dates. Five moments you lie in bed and think about while trying desperately not to scream.
You scold yourself every time because a part of you is embarrassed that you’re so—thirsty! But good God, the man is a tall glass of water you want to drown in. It’s been two stupid years since you’ve kissed anyone, and when you’re in bed at night, you hope that it’s not your lack of practice that’s been keeping him from moving forward.
You can’t be that bad, right? … Right?
But it’s always you who initiates, and Steve always keeps it short and sweet. Once, you felt the slightest flick of his tongue against your bottom lip, but then as quickly as he’d done it, he pulled away.
Grumbling, you press your pillow over your face and punch it a couple of times before settling back down into bed. You peer at the back of your hand in the darkness of your room and contemplate on trying it just like you used to when you were a kid. God, this feels stupid.
Tomorrow, you’ll just ask. Because you’re both adults and because he was your… boyfriend. You smother yourself with the pillow again, because that was an even more mortifying thought than making out with your own hand.
 In the morning you go for a jog and make yourself a quick protein and fruit shake breakfast afterward. Then you head to the pool for about an hour before coming back home. Everything is quiet, and the world is peaceful, now that you don’t have the lives of twenty-five children hovering over your every waking moment. You shower and lie down on the couch before turning on a baking show. Looking around, you survey your apartment. It is so damn barren and cream-colored. You’re not strong nor brave enough to go get a bunch of furniture by yourself and start arranging.
Sighing, you settle on an easier task: maybe today you’ll go buy some houseplants.
Steve texts you a picture of a cheesecake around noon as you’re spraying water into the soil of two new succulents and a hanging fern. You show him your fern, placing your hand next to it for size reference. The messages between you are short and brief, since you see each other pretty often.
Summer break unravels you a little bit, but you’ll be damned if you let your new (very adult) boyfriend know. You play video games and browse the internet with a bottle of wine on the weekends, and your summer is just a giant weekend. It’s almost troubling, really, because every summer you have to either find a new hobby to keep yourself entertained.
Last year you took up rock-climbing and baked a lot… but with Steve around, that just seemed like a good way to get laughed at. And of course, the summer before that one was spent moving out of your ex’s apartment and trying to keep your head above water. You shudder at the thought. If it wasn’t for the very fortuitous call back from your current workplace, you would have probably had to move back home or continued spiraling into credit-card debt.
You text Steve, asking him to suggest a new hobby to you.
Right away, he responds and recommends that you join his watercolor session at the bakery:
I’m teaching a two-hour workshop Sunday after we close. The sign up sheet is already full but… it helps knowing the teacher personally doesn’t it? I do a ceramics one in the winter, too!
You blink.
Steve… I can only draw if I invoke the spirit of Other Steve from Blue’s Clues.
Oh perfect, now he’s calling.
“Yes?” You answer. His laughter is ringing on the other line.
“Hey! Blue’s Clues is an excellent show! And, I gotta admit, that guy can really draw.”
You huff and sputter at him, “Stop messin’ with me. Last year I baked a lot but now that you’re here… I really need a new hobby- a doable hobby!”
He chuckles again before his voice grows quieter. Bossa nova plays in the background, and the coffee grinder is buzzing intensely. “Oh honey,” He whispers, and you’re nearly gasping at the way his voice sounds—low, deliberate—like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Come to the workshop, won’t ya? It’s just a beginner’s thing. I think you’ll really like it. For me?”
The quick-draw refusal you were so sure you could unholster on time is nowhere to be found, not with him asking you so sweetly like that. You grouse jokingly and accept, warning him that if he laughs at your unskilled hand, you’ll never take his advice again.
“Me? Laugh at you? Never, sweetheart. I can’t believe you would think that of me.”
“Oh hush, Steven.”
A puff of air escapes him and everything grows quiet. Steve mutters something you can’t quite make out, and then, even louder than before, the coffee grinder screeches. “Everything okay?” You ask, worried.
“Yeah. Um, yeah. Everything’s good.”
You’re suddenly reminded of the way he pulls away after a good night kiss and reach to unholster that gun.
“Hey—uh wha—why do you--- um.” What the hell is the right way to ask this question? Why have our tongues not fought for dominance? Why haven’t both my hands gotten lost in the front of your button-up shirt? Why have you not pressed your hard, broad chest against me?
Maybe you’ve been reading too much Cosmo or Buzzfeed Relationships in your quest to find the right answers.
“Huh?” Steve asks. “What’s that?”
You holster the gun.
“Nothing! Ha! I’ll see you Sunday!”
“Okay, hon… See you then. Don’t be nervous! It’ll be great!”
 You squeeze your eyes shut as you place your phone on the coffee table. Crisis averted. Then, you search for basic video tutorials on watercolors as well as tips for beginning artists on your phone before casting it to the T.V. It’s entirely baffling and when you pick up a pencil and try to draw your new succulent on a nearby notepad, the voice coming through the speaker sternly states that you should “make marks deliberately-- not fiddling about with sketchy, hairy lines like a fuzzy caterpillar!”
What you’ve been working on looks exactly like a fuzzy caterpillar, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.
So you try again, erasing furiously before attempting those “deliberate” lines. After nearly fifteen minutes, you sit back and peer at your creations.
“Jesus.”
Your smooth, plump, glossy plant looks like one of those inflatable tubes outside of an auto dealership in the middle of deflating.
You feel deflated, too.
Over your dinner table is a corkboard of photos and postcards, and you walk over to snag Steve’s thank you card from its place in the corner. You study his technique and peer at the delicate forest green line of each stem- just a single, continuous stroke. The petals seem to be merely blobs of color if you’re looking closely, and where the flowers touch, sometimes the pigments bleed over each other.
No, it’s not a perfect thing. But it is gorgeous, still.
So, you try… again. This time, you tear off the deflated succulent drawing and place it on your coffee table in the left corner. Just for good luck, you chant “Steve, Steve, Steve!” as if he’s Beetlejuice, and get to work. Half your brain is thinking of the striped green shirt and oversized crayon, and the other half is thinking of a striped blue shirt and oversized pecs. Either way, both of them could art.
You’ve drawn all year for your students- especially your ESL kids who struggled with codeswitching. Sometimes, when they were unable to find the right word, or you were, you’d draw a picture instead. According to twenty-five first graders, you were an amazing artist, so… what the hell!
Ten minutes later, you tear off the top of the notepad and set it down next to its brother.
The two are stark differences, and your second one is little bit better. You’re almost proud of it—smooth flowing lines, rounded edges, and even a flat plane of the table to ground the pot.
Sitting back, you click around some more, making sure to choose videos that are most helpful to your current ability. Those speed-up painting videos were hella tempting, but you do not want to get lost in the rabbit hole.
Sunday is two days away. At the very least, you were going to be able to draw a damn good succulent.
---
You come in early to help him close before the workshop begins. Cap&Co. closes on Sundays right at six, and the workshop would start half an hour later.
The baristas say hello to you and smile, and you do the same back before you grab a rag and spray a counter down. The leftover pastries and sandwiches are placed on a tray and put in the middle of the room, where the tables and chairs have been pushed together by Steve.
“Snacks!” He smiles, “For the students.”
“Does that make me your student too?” You tease, finding the situation a bit ironic.
He winks at you before hanging up his apron. Between the four of you and the work that’s left, it’s quickly finished in the next ten minutes and the employees leave, wishing you a good night as they go.
Steve lets you choose the music for the night as he brightens the lights, and you randomly scroll through the shop’s selection before picking an old album you used to like as a younger girl—Fiona Apple’s 1996 Tidal. Right away, the singer’s brassy voice catches his attention.
“Who is this?” He asks excitedly, “I think I heard her on the radio the other day!”
You tell him, and he nods along to the music as he sets out sheets of watercolor paper clipped neatly on boards. Then he lays out five travel-sized round palettes already filled with an array of colors. By the time all the paintbrushes are next to each clipboard, people are starting to arrive and Steve is back and forth saying hello and giving hugs. You finish the end of the preparation and fill up heavy mason jars with water and set them at each spot. Then, you take your seat with a cake pop and eagerly and watch him lead the demonstration.
“Thanks for coming, everyone!” He smiles widely at the end of the table. “Good to see some of you again!”
 This must be what your students feel like, you think—you hope, because you are absolutely enthralled with everything that pours from his mouth. Even the way he stumbles over his words fascinates you, and the fact that he is so animated and engaged makes you love it even more.
Steve tells the group that he’ll demonstrate for about twenty-five minutes before everyone can start either trying out various techniques, or if they’ve done it before, can begin on painting whatever they please and he’ll come around to offer help. He suggests the plants for a nice still life, or other knick-knacks around the shop. Some returning students have even brought their own objects and you want to pinch yourself because you could have brought your succulent!
Then, he begins, showing you the right way to load the paintbrush with paint and water, and how water tension is so important to the medium. He shows you the difference between a wet brush and a dry brush. He shows you how to layer the colors. Your brain can hardly keep up with your eyes as they enthusiastically soak up the colors over his paper and the way his wrist moves easily back and forth from the mason jar where he cleans the bristles, to the palette saturated with pigment, to the paper where strokes are being placed.
“Here is a quick and easy way to make a flower.”
Steve loads a fat brush with water and pulls two shades of orange onto the white of the palette. In one swift motion, he streaks a daub of it onto the paper, letting the water gather more heavily on one side.
“We’ll let that dry for just a second— but we can do this for now.” He presses the tip of the brush into a tiny bit of red and makes another mark similar to the first one. The edges of the paint that touches leaks into each other, creating a tiny blossom of red into the first petal.
“This is what will happen when your paint is still wet—but that’s okay!” He makes two more petals—slightly more yellow than the last and touches his finger to the one with the accidental red bloom.
“It’s pretty dry now.” He blows softly on it for good measure and mixes a rosy coral shade into his brush.
The last petal is swept over the first, and the overlapping area where they touch turns into a vibrant shade of ripe orange. Then, quickly, he sticks the wood handle of the brush sideways between his teeth and picks up a smaller brush, wetting it, loading it with a deep purple that’s almost black, and makes a spray of dots in the middle.
“There ya go!” He takes the brush out of his mouth.
A part of you thinks that you are fucked because you may have just fallen in some deep shit here, as you stare at him, grinning widely—so proud of himself and somehow proud of you, too, for listening.
He’s made it seem impossibly easy. An absurdly beautiful blossom from his imagination stares at you from the watercolor pad in his hand as you shakily pick up the brush next to your hand.
“Well… shit, Steve.” You whisper before breaking out into a silly laugh and putting your forehead into your palm at the thought of the herculean task at hand. The woman to your right laughs along with you as she makes scribbly marks and drips globules of blue water onto her paper. Steve beams at you lovingly as you try to imitate the way he made the first petal, steering the water where you want it to go.
It doesn’t.
But you’re determined, damn it. Because one, you really want to impress him, and two, you really need a summer hobby.
The next hour flies by as you paint diligently, occasionally humming along to Fiona Apple’s resonant vocals in the background, chatting with the other painters. They’re all regulars at Cap&Co., and they adore the Rogers family.
Steve circles the room and answers questions, giving pointers, and sometimes putting his hand over yours to lead your paintbrush. He even kisses you on the top of your head when you finish your first flower—a lavender five-petaled ...cephalopod.
The affectionate gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the others as they smile and quietly ask him questions when they think you’re not listening. Your ears go hot the rest of the night—just as hot as the top of your head because Steve!
Before you know it, it’s time to pack up. The album has already repeated, and it’s back to an early track. No one seems to mind, however, as they take their papers and wave goodbye. You linger in the area, pouring out dirty water and putting the jars back under the sink. Steve puts away the paints, fixes the rest of the tables, and you return to the café area to join him. He’s patting his thighs with his wet hands when you come in, nodding along to the music.
You gaze at the damp spots on his legs, the fabric of his trousers slightly clinging onto his muscles. Quickly, before he sees you, you look away.
“This exact song was on in the car.” He mutters amusedly, “I really like this… she’s got a great voice.”
Steve walks closer to you, stopping a few steps away and leans against the edge of a wooden booth. He crosses his arms and press his lips together, eyelashes fluttering as he smiles.
“What now?” He asks. His voice echoes the same low and deliberate tone you’ve heard before, and you think that the question isn’t really a question at all. But you’re not really sure what to make of it—tonight may have been the most forward he’s ever been.
The lights are dimmed. The piano melody crescendos before the song ends. There’s a pause of silence before the next song begins, and you feel your heart leap as the first few words start.
I lie in an early bed, thinking late thoughts.
“Um…” Your voice cracks.
I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught. But daddy long-legs, I feel that I’m finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you.
Steve cocks his head to the side, also listening—to the music, perhaps to your now uncomfortably loud heartbeat. You run your hand through your hair. The music chimes into a more upbeat tone as the chorus starts.
Give me the first taste. Let it begin. Heaven cannot wait forever.
“Why don’t you ever kiss me first?”
His eyebrows raise briefly before he blinks a couple of times. You tilt your chin to your chest and lace your fingers together, foot tapping anxiously as you stand in wait. “I mean, I think I’m just a little confused. We’ve seen each other for like, two weeks now. I feel like it’s always me who initiates—but tonight you did a little bit more of that. And… I guess we’ve only kissed—Am I bad kisser? Steve? Am I?”
You’re full of rambling, nervous energy but you try your best to play it off. It was such an awkward thing to say out loud, and there was no way you could come out and spit: Why have we not had sex yet?
Steve surges forward and takes your hand in his, “No!” His head his shaking wildly, “You’re a great kisser! The best!”
His blabbering catches you off-guard and the snort of laughter that comes from you is anything but attractive. “Jesus, Steven, that’s too much.”
Steve slaps his palm to his forehead. “Ah… I’m sorry. I think I’m just nervous.”
“About what?” You ask, leaning forward and looking up at him, “Steve, I just… snorted. You can’t be nervous about this. I should be the one who’s nervous! Look at you!”
He takes a step back and puts one hand on his hip, the other reaching forward to signal to you. “Look at me? Look at you!” He gawks.
The two of you stand there, pointing at each other, making scoffing noises of disbelief for a good two minutes before you put up your hand. “Okay. Pause, mister. You look like someone Photoshopped a rugged Ken Doll and then 3-D printed it. Westworld-style. You bake, you paint, you’re a ceramic---ist? Ceramicist? What! Steve!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “Come on! Your fuckin’ arms!”
He rolls his eyes, “I’m thirty-five and divorced. I sleep four hours a night. I’m a walking disaster.” Then he narrows his eyes at you.
“You’re gorgeous! You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re so sweet…! You’re honest?” He ticks off each adjective using his fingers, “You’re patient? God, Sarah throws half a tantrum and my world collapses. You’re dedicated. You’re---“
“Okay. Stop.” You mutter, cheeks burning hot, “I sleep on the couch next to a bottle of wine and have three pieces of furniture. We’re both disasters.”
Steve laughs and steps forward again, putting his hand over yours. “I just… didn’t want to mess anything up.” He whispers, “I like you so much… and… if we’re… talking about that. I haven’t… been with anyone in … two years. Other than you, I’ve only kissed one person my entire life… So, the question is—am I a bad kisser?”
You giggle as he gives you an apologetic smirk, shaking his head at the way you two have been aggressively complimenting each other. Standing on your tiptoes, you move to nuzzle your nose against his. “You’re a great kisser, Steve. The best.”
Darkness flutters over his eyes briefly before Steve expertly dodges your nose and catches your mouth with his instead. With a half-whimper, half-moan, Steve Rogers grabs the back of your neck in one large, warm hand and your lower back with the other and presses your body flush against his.
Oh.
He’s so tall he has to bend over and you’re so small against him that he’s nearly picking you up. A brief parting of your lips give you a moment to catch your breath, but he’s back again, tongue sliding against yours sweetly, as if asking a silent question.
Is this okay?
With a sigh of pleasure, you ask him to continue in the same, secret language. Your chest his burning hot, tummy quivering with nerves and delight as his hands roam your body. Firm. Strong. Almost desperate. Your own hands rest against his chest before one reaches up and cups his face, trailing your fingertips through his beard.
“D-does it bother you?” He mutters against your mouth before he slides down past your jaw and lands his lips on your neck, “My beard?”
“Mmm—no—” you’re breathless as he kneads his fingers into your waist, moving up to position them just below your breasts, “I like it—mmm-- lots.” You sigh, as his scruff tickles your shoulder, sending tingles all over your body. “I’d like to feel it… elsewhere, too.”
He freezes and pulls away. His hands place you back down on your feet-- back to Earth-- as he swallows hard, looking at you with open, red lips. Steve rolls the bottom one between his teeth and clenches his jaw, eyes half-lidded and lustful. You’re probably a wreck, too, you think as you catch yourself against a table.
“Can we---”
You cut him off. Your purse is already in your hands, keys swinging around your finger.
“God. Yes. I’ll follow you.”
 Steve tugs you from the driver’s seat of your car, hand entwined with yours as he leads you up the walkway and over the step. Once the front door shuts behind him and he’s made sure it’s locked, you’re pressed up against the wall, purse, shoes, keys, clattering onto the hardwood.
“Oh, honey,” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, scooping you up into his arms. “Oh, Jesus, sweetheart.”
You’re glad he knows how to navigate his house with his eyes closed because the whole way there, you can’t stop kissing him. Your hands tug his hair and your teeth pinch his bottom lip. Steve responds by growling softly, biting you back, squeezing your thighs before slowly easing you onto his bed.
It’s dark in his room, but you feel the bed dip as he climbs on too. Both your eyes are trying to adjust—trying to find each other. Your hands fumble around until you catch him, his knee. His hands find your stomach. Slowly, he reaches for the hem of your shirt and peels it up over your head. Then he does the same to his own shirt and both of you shimmy out of your pants.
He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been two years and the first man you touch is more like a mythical creature than any man. It should be illegal for someone to feel this good.
Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.
“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This--” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already...”
A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.
“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of thick muscles.
The mischievous chuckle that pours from his throat vibrates against your chest. Steve grabs onto your thigh and eases your leg over his hips inching closer and straightening himself until you’re aligned perfectly. He tilts back and guides you against him until your center slides against his bulge.
Just as you find the elastic of his waistband, he jerks away and places himself in-between your legs as he moves you onto your back. You scoot until your head hits the wall, propping yourself up on your elbows, giving him more room at the foot of the bed.
“You wanted to feel this?” Steve caresses your thighs with his cheek, the hairs on his beard tickling your sensitive skin. Your toes curl up reflexively as he moves back and forth, trailing his lips and face all over.
You squeal when the tip of his nose touches your mound, mouth hovering over your soaked panties. His mouth latches on, almost in a bite before he takes them off. Both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls your hips forward. You land on his face, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.  
“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss he presses to your folds. His breath comes out in a smug puff of air that purposefully continues to drive you unbelievably closer to what feels like breaking entirely.
“Baby…” he mutters—right into your cunt, Jesus! You groan at the way his face is nestled there. “Baby---mm— It’s been two years for me.” He whispers, “If I don’t get you off now, in a really good way—it’s not gonna be good at all.”
“Steve—you know—ah! It’s been the same amount of time for me too, right?!”
He ignores you, crawling his hands around onto your hips to keep you from squirming. When you settle finally, he moves one hand to your center, sliding a finger up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto your clit as his finger continues their trail. You fist his hair with both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.
But he doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your swollen clit, Steve doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.
You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion builds a terrible itch inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to scratch.
It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, pumping them in and out. He sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive bud, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching your back into his hand and face, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.
“C’mon, that’s it. Thassa good girl. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”
With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked thighs, beard tickling your sensitive skin.
Instead of pulling away, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third.
“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, and your heart stills. Ready?
You voice your concern, “What do you mean?”
With a slight chuckle, he sits up, wiping his mouth and parts of his beard with the back of his hand. In the dark, Steve reaches for your arm, guiding you to feel exactly what he’s talking about. A strangled cry escapes your throat as you wrap your fingers around his cock. Hot. Throbbing. Big.
Sweet, sensitive, divorced, baker, artist, ceramicist, father Steve fuckin’ Rogers was packing. And it isn’t until you nervously grip him in both hands do you realize the importance of his last statement.
“Can I get you ready, baby?” He asks again.
For the millionth time that night, your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean against the headboard with a whimper. Steve crawls over on top of you, scoops you up once again in his arms, and places you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, previous two fingers pushing inside gently.
You rest your head on his shoulder as your body shakes under his ministrations, already tired and overstimulated. Your hands find their way to grip him, massaging his length tenderly, savoring the temperature of his body, spreading the beaded precum at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, scissoring his fingers inside of you, spreading your walls.
The third finger meets resistance as you tense up.
“S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m… I’m pretty nervous…” But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear. It’s a few minutes of this exploration before you feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination. Steve takes the message as a confirmation and reaches into the end table for a condom.
It’s slipped on and you follow suit, gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could emerge from your throat.
“Oh… my… God!” You cry. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the sweetest sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re afraid to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.
Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, holding onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.
You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you mutter, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”
He flexes within you, grunts into your ear. A dry chuckle escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.
You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, my love… just a little more.”
With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his. The two of you feel welded together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. You body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away and clean himself up. He goes into the bathroom first, lying you down and covering you with the blanket.
 When he returns, Steve finds you already dozed off. You palm rests under your cheek as you lie on your side, breathing deeply.
As quietly as he can, he squeezes in beside you, fitting himself against your back. He’s read it somewhere, that falling in love was a little bit like falling asleep. As his eyes slip shut, he feels it happening, just like that quote had said: slowly at first, then… all at once.
In the darkness behind his lids, there is strangely so much light.
Next Chapter
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purplesurveys · 3 years
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Have you ever been cheated on?  Nope.
Whose car were you last in?  Other than my own? Hans’s, but that was over two months ago. 
Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?  How timely is this, Andi literally randomly asked me how I feel about septum piercings this afternoon haha. Anyway, I have no problem with it on other people but I personally wouldn’t pick my nose as a spot for piercings.
Have your parents ever smoked pot?  I don’t know, they may have but there’s a big chance they haven’t. They don’t really share much about their youth so I would never know.
Do you tend to make relationships complicated?  That’s definitely not me.
Are you good at giving directions?  Not at all; if anyone asks me directly I usually immediately refer them to whoever I’m with at the time. Or I tell them to check Waze.
Would your mom care if she found condoms in your room?  She would and she’d definitely be pissed about it. Not that I have to worry about this ever happening, though.
Did you speak to your father today?  Yessssssss, I literally just caught a glimpse of him like two minutes ago.
Did you kiss someone before you were sixteen?  No, I was 16 turning 17 when I had my first.
Could you go a day without eating?  Yeah, but I wouldn’t feel well by the end of it. I’ve formed a habit of skipping breakfast and lunch on weekdays now, and I always feel like complete shit once I clock out. Considering I only eat dinner these days, I guess I can say I do regularly go entire days without eating.
Are your nails always painted? I never paint them/have them painted.
Have you ever met any bands/band members before?  Just local ones.
What color is your hair?  Black.
Your best friend needed somewhere to stay, could they live with you? Yes.
Have you danced in the rain?  Maybe? I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like something I would do, though.
When you said something naughty when you were little, did your parents wash out your tongue with soap?  Nope. I never liked getting in trouble, even as a kid, so I stayed out of it.
What do you think of spanking little children when they do something wrong? Okay or not?  That’s a common practice where I live, at least it was during my time. My mom didn’t believe in spanking her kids, which I’ll always be thankful for; but the cousins I lived with didn’t have the same fate so I regularly had to watch them get spanked - with sticks, slippers, belts, etc basically anything that was within reach. I think today’s generation of parents are different; I hope they are.
Who was the last male you hung out with?  Gab, Kyelle, Al, and Hans.
Who is your favorite person to text?  I don’t text anymore, but I do chat with Angela on Messenger everyday.
Who did you last take a picture with?  Does an online photo count? We had an event held through Zoom last Wednesday and we had a photo op by the end of it.
What’s your favorite brand of jeans? I don’t have any. I just wear whichever pair I’d feel good and confident wearing.
Which show is better: Spongebob or The Fairly Odd Parents?  Nooooooooo you’re making me pick between my two absolute favorites. I might have to go with Spongebob, but it barely barely barely won. Fairly OddParents is great too, at least until they added the baby fairy.
Has anyone ever told you that you looked like someone else?  Many times. Idk if I’m happy about it because something tells me it just means I have quite the common face. Idk. I don’t think too much about it and as long as I’m compared to someone I personally find pretty, it’s fine lol.
Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning?  Not so much. I find them too loud, especially the crickets.
Who is the most overrated singer?  Taylor Swift.
What is your favourite planet?  I don’t have one, but let’s go with Saturn.
Do you have any pets that you had since you were born?  Wow no. 23 years is a very long time.
Do you own anything that you had when you were a baby?  Yep, my mom kept all our umbilical cord stumps. It’s in our baby albums.
Do you enjoy Mario games?  Very much so. It’s the only franchise I can play HAHAHA
What’s your favorite online game?  I don’t play online games.
Have you ever been hit with a ball in gym class?  I probably have been.
Do you ever turn your cell phone off?  I used to sometimes shut it off whenever I’d fight with my ex and I didn’t want to deal with the world for a while. Now with the toxicity out of my life I never turn it off lol.
Who was last to cook for you?  My mom made pasta for dinner tonight. Then after that I asked her to make me coffee mixed with Milo.
Do you check your texts right away when you receive them?  Depends on who texts. I get anxious when it’s media texting, so I tend to ignore those for a few hours unless they ask something urgent. If it’s someone from my inner circle, like a friend or one of my parents, I would check and reply immediately, or at least as soon as I see the text.
Who is your most trusted person?  Mmm, probably Angela. I literally reached out last night to ask her to log on to my Facebook so she can unfriend Gab and her family on my behalf. I don’t think I would’ve asked that from anyone else.
How late did you stay up last night?  A little earlier than my usual, around midnight or so. I knew my load was going to be packed today since my manager had filed a leave which meant I had to cover for her tasks as well, so I wanted to get enough rest so that I didn’t wake up sleepy and cranky.
When/where are you most likely to sing?  As long as I’m alone, I’ll sing. I like to do it, just not in front of other people.
Would you ever wish to explore a cave?  That would be soooooooo nice. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a cave. :(
You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do?  I imagine giving her an awkward smile and probably being the first to approach. Then I would ask how she’s been. I’m in a place in my life where I’m sure I’ll be able to do that.
Have you been/are you depressed?  I’ve been there many times.
Are your pop-ups blocked on your computer? Yes.
Have you ever ridden in a car with someone who was high?  No. I would hate to be in that situation.
Who is the best hugger you know?  Laurice.
Have you ever had to be put to sleep for an operation?  Nopes.
Does anybody have any proof of stupid things you have done?  I know Angela has a few. Gabie took a few as well; whether she still has them or not I’m not updated on anymore, nor do I care.
Why did you text the last person in your inbox?  I was just reminding Angela there was a BTS video coming out tonight.
Have you ever been able to do a split?  No but I’ve attemped to do it many times.
Did you ever date the last person you kissed?  Yes.
Are you intimidated by the last person you know talked badly about you?  I never keep track of things like that. I know it would bring nothing but unnecessary stress, so I never snoop or ask around to check if anyone’s been talking not-so-nicely about me behind my back.
Have you ever cried in school?  Maybe only about once or twice in the 18 years I was in school. I absolutely hate crying in front of people, and I mainly do it when I’m alone. I don’t think I’ve even ever cried in front of Angela; that’s how much I hate it.
Last person of the opposite sex you screamed at?  I don’t remember ever screaming at a guy.
Do you have any weird sleep habits?  I...wouldn’t know, since I’m asleep when I do them. I always sleep alone too, so no one would be able to tell me how I sleep. All I know is I’m not much of a mover and I usually wake up in the same position (or almost the same position) I fell asleep in.
Do you consider yourself an emotional person?  Yes, I’m sensitive in every sense of the word.
When was the last time you had a headache?  Last Wednesday when not eating for the entire day finally hit me like a truck by the end of my shift. :/
When was the last time you encountered a puppy? Cooper circa September.
Is there anything that happened a long time ago that you still laugh about?  Yes, many instances.
Do you ever try to interpret your dreams?  No, I don’t think anything of them beyond “just weird scenarios of people I know doing weird things.”
What was the last thing you bought impulsively?  Three orders of sushi, 24 pieces in total.
How do you feel about singing songs out loud in front of other people? No amount of money would make me do it.
When was the last time you were feeling really, really nervous?  This afternoon when a supplier we’re currently working with asked to call. Normally my manager would be the one mainly in touch with people like them, but since she was out today I was next in line.
If you’re no longer in school, what is something you miss about it? If you’re still in school, what’s something you think you’re going to miss about it? I miss seeing my friends everyday and being able to hang out after our classes, even if it just means sitting at a table doing nothing together.
Do you use your turn signals when you’re driving?  Excessively. I use it even in the subdivision lmao, or on one-way roads.
How exactly are you feeling right now?  Content. It’s a little hot and mosquitoes keep flying around me, but I’m not letting these affect my mood. Just focusing on the fact that it’s a Friday night and I can let go of work for a couple of days.
Have you ever had to board up your windows because of a hurricane?  Never happened before. I just close up my windows completely so that they don’t slam if ever the wind gets too strong.
Do you tell anyone to chew with their mouths closed?  I don’t recall ever feeling the need to do this. The sound doesn’t bother me much anyway; definitely not as much as it annoys most people.
Have you ever ordered pizza and sent it to someone else’s house?  Yup I did that for Angela and Kata recently, for my birthday, along with truffle mac and cheese. Basically my favorite orders from Mama Lou’s, haha.
What was the first thing you drank when you woke up this morning? I believe it was water.
Do you think stretch marks from having a baby are ugly or badges of honor?  Ugh this question is so outdated I don’t even want to take the time to answer it.
Ever done a keg stand?  No.
Who is the last person you lent money to?  I don’t lend my money.
Do you share clothing with anyone?  Mmm, sometimes. It’s usually me borrowing clothes from my sister, though.
Have you ever visited anyone in a rehab?  Nope.
Was the last thing you drank a Coke or Pepsi product?  No, it was just water. I’d never be caught craving for soda.
Honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent? No. I experienced having strict parents, so I know it’s not something I would want to pass on to my kids. I want my kids to be able to go out with friends and attend parties and get tattoos (when they’re older) and express their identity without being scared of me.
What was the last kind of chips you ate?  Piattos cheddar chips.
What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t?  Investing and stocks.
What is the last thing you charged?  My laptop.
Have you ever held a snake?  Yes. I’m always the only one in the family willing to do things like this when we go on vacations haha.
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mywalkintofreedom · 3 years
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Life at West Main Street - part 2
In my last story, I really just painted a picture of what life was like. I didn’t go into a whole lot of detail about how God came through, though. God really came through for us in many ways, especially through the body of Christ.
Before we moved into our apartment we lived at a friends house for a month. During that month I had a dream that I really believed was from God. We had a lot of things to sort through together and figure out. In my dream I was with my mom and we were walking in the ocean and I had to follow her. I kept looking behind me and was afraid, and every time I looked behind I would start to sink and I would have a hard time seeing where she was going. My mom turned around and said “don’t look to the right or to the left, keep your eyes on me”. After I woke up I had an incredible sense of peace and I knew it had been God. Any time after that when I would start to lose focus, I would think of that dream and God would remind me “don’t look to the right or to the left”. Also in other words, “stop looking at your circumstances”. So much stuff hadn’t been figured out yet, but I had to choose to trust God.
I shared how we had a $20 food budget, which we did, and later in our journey it slowly increased. We also had dear friends that fed us dinner once a week to cut down the cost of food, it was a huge help. We had another church member that dropped off bread almost weekly. We had more church members that gave us food boxes regularly. The body of Christ really upheld us. Without them, I don’t know how we would have done it. We had friends teach us how to coupon and counsel us. When we had a need, we prayed, and God would provide in one way or an other. Sometimes I had a small desire, like I would be craving Nutella, and someone would randomly give me a jar of Nutella at church because they said they were thinking of me.
I shared about having two suitcases and a desk chair when we moved in. Within a matter of probably two weeks, we were donated a couch, a bed, a table and chairs, a stove (which took some months to be able to hook it up, because of funky wiring in the apartment, but we had it), a mini fridge, a toaster oven, a waffle maker, a washer and eventually a dryer. One friend was sending us boxes anonymously with brand new pillows, bedding, blankets, some maternity clothes, towels, kitchen towels, plates, bowls, pots and pans, utensils. Pretty much any essential item was send in anonymous boxes that would arrive, even toilet paper and cleaning supplies. It was very humbling and overwhelming, I mean we even had a can opener! Just imagine packages arrive from an anonymous person with all the things you need, when you haven’t told anyone what you need. It was amazing.
Someone took me to Walmart and told me to pick out curtains and other things we needed for our apartment. It was also someone else from our church that gave us money to turn on the water and power to our apartment. We never asked any of these generous people to do this for us, we never told them our need. We prayed together and stuff would happen. It was life changing.
Micah and I were never good at asking for help, which is why it was hard to take out a loan when we needed to, but people showed up and supported us even if we didn’t ask.
And even in the midst of being supported, it was only us that could walk that journey. We had a lot of support, but I struggled greatly any time I was by myself in those first months. Mostly, because I wasn’t used to being by myself. I had just finished a year of college studying social work before we got married, and was around people every day and had a very fast pace busy life. I also came from a big family where there were always people around me. One of my love languages is quality time, so being by myself was new. Going from that life, to being alone every day was a shock for me, and I don’t mind admitting that. BUT through it all I learned the most valuable lesson I could’ve ever learned: I learned to be content. I learned to be okay with my own company, and most of all, I learned how to entertain myself and to be thankful for every little thing in life. Sounds pathetic, but in today’s society, entertainment mostly comes from technology. I had to really face myself and even find out hobbies that I would enjoy to keep my spirit lifted, because being a millennial, the only way I really entertained myself was by watching shows or scrolling on my phone and hanging out with family and friends.
A few weeks after we moved into our apartment Micah was offered a full time job at a car dealership, where he had been doing odd jobs. This was a huge milestone for us, because it meant that we had some stability and a consistent income. I have to say though, even before he had a permanent job, we had one financial miracle after an other. Somehow there always was an odd job for him to make just the right amount of money. The way we were living really made my faith in God become so real. He truly was the One providing for us.
The apartment continued to be an interesting living space. As clean as we tried to keep it, we regularly dealt with cockroaches. We eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps the other people in the building weren’t keeping their spaces clean. We were given a space heater that would show us the temperature in the apartment. It would get as low as 48 Fahrenheit in the coldest months at night, but when it would go over 55 or so it would feel comfortable. We dressed warm in several layers and I would usually sit right in front of the space heater, which made it not so bad. Pregnancy also helped, because it keeps you warmer as well. Anytime we’d go to someone else’s house, or go to church, my cheeks would get flushed and I would be so hot! I had gotten used to colder temperatures. I couldn’t believe I had taken central heat for granted.
The house next to our apartment that we saw from our window, had a basement in which an entire family was living. A mom and dad, a little, maybe 4 year old boy and a baby. I often felt for them and often wanted to help them. The kids were usually only wearing onesies, even in winter. Upstairs, in the regular part of the house lived the grandparents, I think. I think they bred dogs, they had about 5 tied to trees in the yard. These dogs never stopped barking and often kept me up at night. As much as I wanted to help this family, I also thought about calling the police on them for having these dogs! I might have threatened I would untie all of them in the middle of the night in my hysterical mood. I did eventually get used to the dogs and stopped hearing them, and I think they sold some because they eventually only had 1 or 2.
Our upstairs neighbors, were a couple, probably in their late 50s. It was this lady that actually had hollered from across the street telling us there was an apartment available below them. They were sweet people, and also very troubled people. I would often hear them fight, but it’s not like we never had arguments, so who was I to judge them? I also overheard the lady, what I thought was, dealing drugs one time outside our window. We found out it was her birthday from her husband one time. We put together a little basket for her with a few items we had and went up to give it to her. Her reaction was priceless, as if she had never received a gift before. Anytime we had too much food that we couldn’t store in our mini fridge we would give it to them, and they were always so grateful. I really felt for them and we tried to share the gospel with them whenever we felt there was an open door. I also believed the lady had some kind of disease, because about once a month I would hear her vomit all night and then she would disappear for several days in a row and look different every time she returned. She also was picked up with an ambulance several times. We prayed for them and did care about them. We borrowed things from each other. We often borrowed their plunger and they often borrowed things from us. One time they would not stop fighting and were cursing at each other loudly, so Micah told them if they didn’t cut it out he would call the police. That night the guy came to our door and asked for all of his things back that we had borrowed, which was a giant old tv that we sometimes would watch dvds on from the library, and his plunger. This put an end to borrowing things, but we did still give them food. I still see them at the apartment sometimes when I drive by, and often think about asking how they are doing.
Our neighbor next to us, was an older lady. She was quiet and sweet as could be. She told us she never heard us, and I thought she must have impaired hearing, especially after we had the baby. She always greeted us, but she rarely got out of her apartment.
The other apartment had different people moving in and out. At one point a guy was living there that would never stop playing music. It was music with a loud base and bad words, and I couldn’t stand it. I prayed, and thank God, he moved out pretty soon.
We got to host my sister a few weeks after we had moved in. She had just gotten back from missionary work, so in my mind I had thought, “Surely our apartment will be better than where she’s been living.” But while she was with us the toilet kept clogging up. One morning she was using the bathroom and I had heard her trying to flush several times and after awhile she stuck her head out the door and said “uhh guys, my poop is coming up in the bathtub”. We all busted out laughing, it was hysterical. I had the best time with her. She stayed for three weeks, and I had never appreciated her company more than I did when she came. She helped me make our apartment homey, and we hung up pictures together. It’s some of the most valuable memories I have with her now.
Our landlord, Miss Charlotte, was also the sweetest lady. We experienced a lot of issues with the apartment, and would call her about it, every time she would immediately send someone to come fix it. We eventually got a new toilet, because the repair guy determined that it was too old and therefore clogging so much. We also had trouble with the electricity. Whenever we’d plug something in, the lights in the living space would dim really low. If we plugged more than one appliance in, the power in the entire apartment would go out. We became friends with the electrician named Terry, because he had to come over so often in the beginning😂 Someone gave us a huge microwave at one point, we never really used microwaves but we did use it for popcorn. Well one time when we plugged this beast in and turned it on there was a loud noise and half the apartment was without power and wouldn’t come back on. Terry had to come over again, but it took a few days before he could, so we lived in the dark for awhile until he fixed it. We decided not to use the microwave anymore, we didn’t really have room for it anyways. It was at this point that Micah got concerned about fire safety and collected all of our important documents in case there would be a fire😂, this was dramatic, but felt real at the time. Terry pretty much fixed most issues and we just didn’t use too many appliances at once.
As the months went by my due date was getting closer. Our baby was due on May 3rd of 2015. We were seeing our midwife regularly now, I loved our trips up to Atlanta. It was so fun to spend that time together. Paying for gas stretched our budget quite a bit, but I loved the drive.
What I thought was impossible became reality, our apartment truly became home. I started to feel safe and remember one time coming home after going grocery shopping saying to Micah “you know this really is home”, and he said “I was thinking the same thing”. I was nesting, I stopped volunteering at our church’ school when I was nearing the end of my pregnancy, and actually enjoying the isolation towards the end, and painted just about any piece of furniture that could be painted with cheap crafts paint. Most has held up amazingly well after all these years.
We lived close to the library. All I had to do was walk up a steep hill and there it was. It took me about 7-10 minutes. It was a great motivator to get exersice! I walked up that hill every day to connect my old phone to WiFi and I would contact Micah asking him what time he could come home for lunch. I also got to know the ladies that worked there as I saw them often. The library had a huge selection of Shirley Temple movies, so every day at 4 in the afternoon during my last week or 2 of my pregnancy I watched one of the movies and actually really enjoyed it.
At one point much earlier in the journey I temporarily had Micah’s phone, which had regular service. We thought it would be best for me to have his phone so I could contact him by texting the business’ cellphone. Well, one time his boss called Micah’s phone and I picked up. He said “is Micah there?” I told him no, then his boss said “ he just drove away in a customer’s car and I can’t reach him!” Just a few minutes later Micah arrived at the apartment and he came in and said “get dressed honey, we’re going to pick up some keys in Colombus!” (Sometimes if Micah had to take a trip somewhere his boss allowed me to come along with him). So I told Micah, “I just got off the phone with John (Micah’s boss), that’s not the business’ car, you took a customers car!” Micah’s eyes got big and he got back in the car and drove back to work. He had indeed accidentally mistaken a customer’s car, who had left the keys in their car, as one of the business’ car. He then from then on had to have his phone on him at all times so they could always contact him.
During these weeks, before our first child came into the world, I had a lot of victory in a lot of areas in my life. I got to a really good place actually before our child was born. I had no idea how my life was about to change, I also had no idea what kind of birth experience I was about to have. I will share more about this in part 3.
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a-frozcnlight · 3 years
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@dawnxtoxdusk​ asked: 😈 - Chu :D
Corrupted version - still accepting
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Info: Those are none less than 1.278 words, its 4 a.m and therefore it probably doesn’t make a lot of sense :’’’) BUT FUCK DID I ENJOY WRITING THIS. It probably can’t be truly seen as a ‘corrupted’ version of Miran - it’s more a corrupted life the sisters would lead?
It definitely is something I’d like to discover more because, oh my gosh xD I got a bit inspired by how Daichi got ‘abandoned’ by the family tbh. Just that it would happen in a different way there? There would be just so much to explain, so much to discover and aaaah. I can’t believe I had never gotten this idea before for them???
Anyway, I’m super proud of it, even though it became a half drabble rather than an RP reply ( and I’m super sorry for that xD ). I’m also sorry for Strelitzia’s explanation having been so brief ; u ; MIRAN AND I LOVE HER A LOT.
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Eerie quiet in the  heart of Yokohama, was a hotel rumored to lay. One, only few got in - but even fewer got out. Most of those employed in within those walls, colored in a pure white and rich of decorations in golden colors knew who they worked for. Knew the man, who had them employed, but now lived with his wife on the other side of the sea. Little did they know however, why they were here. Who it was, they brought food and tea to. Only ever had they heard the voice of a woman or a child, another girl, via their phones they were given for this job. Those who were harbored in the twelfth and last floor of this so overly luxury building. 
Their faces were to be seen only one painting, like as if made during old times, hung hidden and lonely in a room. Two females - a woman with long, golden locks cascading down to the middle of her back and her lips, colored in a soft shade of red, parted as if shock froze her doll-like, pale face. Azure eyes that inspired innocence and purity, but also curiosity, stared at those facing the portrait - only little of her body was to be seen, but there were hints of the dark blue dress she wore on the day this picture was created.
Her arms were protectively wrapped around another girl. Much younger and yet to those who would look closely, facial familiarity to the adult would become clear. Did the child however have ginger hair, that were just as long and the big, amber eyes of an innocent child.
And though it was obvious that this might could be the voices that whispered in hushed tones into the phones, nobody knew if they truly existed. Whatever they were alive or dead - or why they would never have come face to face with anyone for so many years. However. Some would say that those too were nothing but two unfortunate souls. Abandoned by those, who had set them into this world - abandoned for not matching their parent’s wishes.
Thrown away like broken toys in their imperfect perfection.
Guests only visited seldomly, randomly. At most it were people who found no shelter anymore during the busy times of the bustling city. Sometimes it also were curious or brave ones, who heard from gossips of the mysterious owners of this abandoned and yet odd lively building… and only those, who were chosen as trusted enough to be permitted - or rather forced - to work over night ever knew what would happen to those. 
Only those ever heard those light steps, that were gossiped about like a haunted tale, on long, carpeted corridors. Where windows were covered by thick curtains, banning every so dim light of the moon - as if one had feared somebody would lurk inside. Feared, that somebody would see, what was not meant to see.
Not seldom was the person to have visited found dead, once the first rays of the morning sun touched the city. Either perished in their room, or found bloodied on the highest floor, which guests were forbidden to enter - for obvious reasons. Still there were those who chose to be foolish. Those who paid no heeds to the quiet warnings of those people, who had worked for the family long enough to witness the many lives to enter - and the many corpses that were to be disposed.
Even though murder had happened within the building, there never had been the hint of a police found anywhere near the doors of the hotel and those who could talk, had vowed their secrecy. Even got bribed with a too little amount of money, by the Korean male with long, black hair and amber eyes just as the younger one of the females on the portrait, one could only guess that it might was their father - and therefore probably the only one who knew for sure, whatever was going on for real.
Trying to reach out had always resulted in the male covering himself in silence however. Not even losing a word to the easiest questions.
And so, another day had passed of trays once filled with plates of food, pots of tea and water and empty cups were once more carried emptily and used back to the lowest floor - the kitchens. Another day, on which the cruelty behind closed doors could have discovered, would one just have the courage to see what was wrong and right about those rumors. What was behind all those corpses, those dead guests, that might had looked so ‘innocently’ to those who did not understand.
This was just another night, in which Miran would run her fingers through the hair of her sister laying asleep in their bed. Prisoned in their own home, their own room, since so much time. Scorned by their blood for their differences, abandoned for being born with what was insulted as ‘witchcraft’ by those, elder than them. By those, who were aware of their existence and therefore tried to get rid of them as good as possible. Probably, so could the female only guess, to clean the name of their families and keep up their reputation.
What once felt to the blonde like being thrown into the fairy tale of the princess, Rapunzel, that was locked into her town, had become an unbearable fight and what little - or more like nobody - knew, was that all the young woman did, was to protect the lives of her sister and herself. Hadn’t it been just one time after all, that those so called ‘guests’ or ‘visitors’ from nowhere would suddenly stand at their bedside, with a weapon in one hand. Trying to assassinate one or both of them. Probably doing the dirty work for their family, most likely their parents, they didn’t want to do. To make the ‘mistakes’ none should ever know about disappear.
But she didn’t mind the blood that tainted her hands by now. If it was proof to their father, that their existence was dangerous, then so be it. Only too gladly would the older sister have shown him what his actions had driven them into. What it had done to her, after witnessing after the murder of their eldest brother in front of her very own eyes. How bitter the constant struggle had made her, to not end up like Sehun, who had only tried to protect his sisters that had meant everything to him, had taught her to survive - had inspired her to fight for her life, even if it would one day be only for Strelitzia’s sake or for the freedom of the girl.
It were steps from the distance, that caused Miran’s head to perk up. To watch, as a silhouette in the darkness of the rich decorated, but also slight deserted, room moved - forced the female to grab to the knife on the close nightstand. Unsure, how the stranger came in without her having realized. Would the door announce entrances with a loud squeak after all and with how high up they were, there were no other possibilities.
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The blonde held her breath. Fearing, that one noise too much could alert the stranger too quick.
It would mean their end for sure. Would mean, that all she had fought for in this room she hadn’t been allowed to leave for such a long time would have gone to nothing. That she’d never see the outside again, she wished to see so eagerly. 
Her heartbeat quickened, her eyes showing nothing but hatred towards whoever had dared it to interrupt, whatever had promised to be a silent, peaceful night.
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misc-headcanons · 3 years
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(Commission) OP Matchup: magicalberserk
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@magicalberserk​
I'm a 5'3" chubby girl, my hair is black and thick and curly and it used to be short but now I let it grow and it's out of freaking control :p.
My hobbies are pretty artsy, I like to draw/paint, bake, make pots, write poems, I also like to sing and love acting/voice acting. When it comes to genres (of anything) I like intense and/or fantastical stuff: thriller, fantasy, superhero, etc. 
I'm mature, but I have the heart of a child. I LOVE theme parks, sweets, toys, and other fun stuff. But since I'm the eldest of two siblings and had care for them when they were babies, that's where the mature part comes in. Funnily enough I'm not much of a mom figure, more of a wine aunt. 
I'm extremely loyal and affectionate as both a friend and lover, and would do anything for them. I'm introverted by nature but sometimes I randomly need a hug or someone to play a game with me. I don't always want to talk and I like to be in comfortable silence with someone, but I get really passionate and fixated on my interests and ramble for hours about them, but that's only when you're close enough because otherwise I'm too scared of boring you with what I'm thinking about.
I match you with...Ace!
You and Ace have some important things in common, imo. He and Sabo were both older than Luffy, and I think that Ace was the one with "eldest brother" status. He's not really a dad figure in the same way you're not really a mom figure; you two are more like the chill-yet-chaotic aunt and uncle combo. You're both mature, but you have a fun/childlike streak. Ace didn't have the chance to enjoy things like theme parks and whatnot while growing up with Dadan, so he'd love to take you on a date to a place like Sabaody Park! He loves spicy things, but he's got a sweet tooth too. Whenever you want marshmallows, he insists on being the one to roast them with his DF. 
Ace really needs a partner who's loyal and affectionate, especially after he tells them about his father and his self-loathing. There may be times where he hates himself because of how kind you are towards him. He feels like he doesn't deserve love sometimes, especially from someone as kind as you. He likes those moments of comfortable silence together, where the two of you can just be. His life's full of adventure and danger, and having a more introverted partner means he's usually the extroverted one whenever you're out together. Still, he appreciates those quiet moments where it's just the two of you, OR whenever you're talking passionately about one of your interests and he can just enjoy listening to you talk with so much excitement.
Ace loves listening to you sing and looking at your art and poems. He can't believe he's with someone that's so talented! If you ever wrote/sung/drew something for or about him, he'd be so flustered and happy and would keep everything you've made in a little safe in his room.
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@zutaraweek Prompt: Found.
Summary: Katara is snooping around, looking for trinkets that help her solve the Zuko-Puzzle. Ember Island days, canon compliant. Read on AO3 or below.
“What do you think you’ll find up there?” Suki asks as Katara heads again to the dusty attic, laced with cobwebs. 
It is a good question. Katara mutters something about pots and pans, ignoring Suki’s amused smile. Of course, the kitchen in the summer house is the best-equipped Katara has ever seen in her life, and yes, she’s been cooking for the team with nothing more than a clay rice-pot for the last couple of months. Also, it’s not her first visit to the attic. Or the second. Or the third.
The royal vacation home is full of trinkets. Some of them really useful, like the colourful paper lanterns that now adorn the patio or the parasols that come handy on the beach.  
But it’s the other things that draw Katara back; objects that tell a story about Zuko. And now that they’ve become friends, Katara is eager to learn more.  
-0-
The cedarwood-chest is full of Zuko-memorabilia, no doubt carefully collected by his mother. There are strands of silky hair tied together with ribbons, baby-teeth sewn into an ornate pocket, tiny handprints in clay.
Katara opens something that looks like a school-report:
Could do better in his lessons if he were less prone to daydreaming.
Shows great talent in all fields of athletics. 
Great aptitude for music. Can read notes proficiently and sing clearly. His interest should be nurtured further…
Katara smiles as she imagines him as a schoolboy. She pictures a young boy with dreamy eyes. 
A handful of tiny red papers, rolled into cylinder shapes grab her attention. She unrolls one randomly. It’s a prayer, written in the clumsy scribbles of a child. 
Agni, please give me bigger sparks. I think Father might like me more if you did. 
Katara feels like she’s intruding on something entirely too private, so she rolls back up the tiny scroll and puts it back in the box. 
Maybe she could just ask Zuko, but he rarely volunteers any private information. He trains Aang, does his share of the chores, hangs out with the group mostly quietly, sometimes making the effort to butcher one of his uncle’s jokes. Katara wonders if it’s painful for him to be back in this place, conspiring to bring his own father down. For the first time she admits to herself that he’s not in an enviable position.
-0-
The objects serve as conversation-starters. The first thing she brings to him is the drawing of a dragon; made in red and gold ink with bold strokes. The proportions are all wrong, but the eyes of the dragon are strangely expressive. Pain and compassion.
“Did you draw this?” she asks curiously.
A small, wistful smile forms on Zuko’s lips as he turns the paper around. “Yeah. I was trying to explain to Azula what the dragons in my dream looked like.”
“You are quite talented.”
He playfully puts his fingers on his lips. “Don’t tell Sokka, he’ll challenge me to a painting kai.”
Katara promises to keep it as their secret. It feels nice to have a secret to share.
-0-
“Did you make these?” She scatters colourful paper-animals on the steps during the training break. He picks up a badger-frog and makes it skip. 
“Some of it. Mum taught Azula and me. You see? Those perfect ones are hers.” There is barely disguised bitterness in his voice. His sister’s perfection seems to be a permanent shadow he still struggles with. “I probably made all the crooked ones.”
Katara picks up a fire-hawk from the crooked pile. “Can you teach me this one?”
“Sure, it’s not that hard,” he nods. 
He folds the paper in deep concentration, his tongue sticking out from the effort. It makes him look like a kid. The folds are perfectly aligned. Katara copies his movements carefully. 
The others all gravitate towards them, first watching, then joining in. Even Toph insists on having a go, letting Zuko guide her hands through the motions to make a lotus. 
Sokka -  who else - suggests a frog-jumping competition, adding extra folds to upgrade his design. Instead of jumping, his frog spins around madly, which inspires new and even more extravagant designs. Soon, the steps are covered with mythical creatures, monsters and strange animal hybrids. Most of them crooked. Nobody really cares. Laughter echoes among the old pillars; Zuko’s chuckles melding into the group’s merriment.
-0-
“I really like this one.” She picks up one of the kites. It’s blue like the sea, decorated with a sea-lion. 
His eyes turn sad. “It was Lu Ten’s.”
Katara has no idea who he’s talking about, but the heaviness of his voice implies a tragic story. She waits patiently. Zuko pulls his fingers along the reed crossbars. “My cousin, Uncle’s son. He died in the war.”
“I’m sorry. Were you close?”
“He was older than me and he knew the best games. He taught me to sneak around, to wrestle, to fly kites,” Zuko smiles, lost in good memories. “I wish he was still alive, things would be different…” ha adds quietly. 
Before Katara has a chance to ask what he means, Aang interrupts with an enthusiastic yell. “These are some great kites. I haven’t flown one in a century!” 
Inevitably, Sokka appears to examine them. Ten minutes later, the entire group is down by the beach flying kites. Zuko is running close to Aang to get the airbending boost. He’s holding the string of Lu Ten’s kite, the blue silk is flying impossibly high.
-0-
Katara drags out a heavy box full of instruments. The tsungi horn is on top.
“Can you play this thing?” she asks, thinking of the old school report.
“A little,” Zuko replies shortly, keeping his eye on Aang’s movements as he drills the new set.
Aang perks up immediately and stops practicing. “I love music.”
“You have firebending practice to do,” Zuko replies strictly. He’s relentless with Aang.
“Come on, Zuko. Practice, practice, practice. I never get to have any fun anymore,” Aang pouts.
Zuko looks at Katara. Positive reinforcement, her lips form the words silently. It’s an argument they have had quite a few times.
“I’ll tell you what. If you can do this set perfectly by the end of the day, we’ll do music night,” Zuko offers.
Aang restarts his practice more enthusiastically, his concentration and form are perfect. As the sun starts to disappear on the horizon, Zuko declares the set mastered. 
He puts the horn to his lips and starts playing, eyes closed. The courtyard grows quiet. The music sounds both strange and beautiful to Katara’s ears. Clearly, he knows more than a little.
-0-
One early morning she drags a surf-board to the beach, where Zuko sits in quiet meditation waiting for the sunrise. The others are still sleeping in the house. 
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Don’t tell me you want me to teach you,” Zuko looks at her in confusion. 
“Actually, I had something else in mind.” Katara bends her own surfboard and spins around on top of the wave. “Come on, the water is delicious.”
Zuko watches her with a skeptical expression, but he picks up the surfboard and starts to paddle in deeper. Katara gives him a big boost with a wave of her arm. “That’s really neat,” laughs Zuko. 
Balancing himself on the board, he starts moving with the waves. He’s not half-bad for a firebender. Every once in a while, Katara sends him on a spin. On the first two tries, he ends up under the water, but by the third attempt he figures out the rhythm of her bending and moves with it. They chase the waves in the rising sun, their laughter carried by the water. 
Katara collapses in the warm sand, the dancing waves coursing inside her veins, making her feel alive. Zuko soaks in the rising sun, covering his feet in sand. 
“This was fun,” Katara giggles. 
“Last time I was out there, Azula set my surfboard on fire because I won some stupid game we were playing,” he notes. He doesn’t make it sound like anything out of the ordinary, but rather a regular occurrence. Just a normal day in the family. Katara’s stomach squeezes painfully at the thought of growing up like that, constantly watching your back, wondering if your family really hates you. 
He shakes his head, as if to get rid of the bad memories and smiles at her. “But surfing with a water-bender is certainly an experience I never knew I needed.” There is no sarcasm in his voice. “It’s great to have you guys here. It makes this place come alive again.”
Katara nods. “We all love it here, you know. Sokka swears it’s the best place in the entire world.”
“Maybe, after...after this is all over, we could come here for a real vacation.” His voice is a bit shy and hesitant, as if he feared they would turn him down. As if he still didn’t believe that they are friends now.
Katara for one can’t think of anything better than winning the war and taking a long holiday on Ember Island. “That would be great, Zuko.” 
She puts her hand on top of his. He watches it intently, like a painter trying to commit to memory every detail. After a long beat of silence he pulls away his hand.
“I’d better wake up Aang,” he says and heads back towards the house. 
Katara leans back against the old, battered surf-board, enjoying the last quiet minutes of the morning. 
She thinks that after breakfast, she’ll go back to the attic. These objects are part of the puzzle, through them she’s found the real Zuko. But maybe there are more layers to be found. And maybe, through all this, he’s found something too.
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emoboijk · 5 years
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ksj | tulips
“A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different.” (Marianne Williamson) You don’t think he loves you and that can have disastrous consequences. —hanahaki disease au, non-idol au, professor!seokjin, student!reader, flora & fauna series
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The waiting room is beige with a dark brown carpet, the kind that has either always been that color or is that color as the result of years of use. There are paintings (ironically) of flowers on the walls, and potted plants stationed randomly between the chairs. A receptionist sits behind a counter, typing on a computer and answering the phone when it rings. Aside from her, there are seven people scattered about the room.
You're sitting in the chair directly beside the door to the bathroom because every two minutes you have to puke. There’s a trail of soft pink tulip petals to and from the door, to and from the toilet, up and down your shirt. You don’t even bother rinsing out your mouth anymore, somewhat used to the irony taste of blood and earthy taste of petals by now.
When the nurse opens the door and calls your name, you hold up your hand and run into the bathroom to vomit. When you reappear, she’s still standing in the doorway, but with a look of pity on her face. You frown and follow her through the halls and into a doctor’s office, stepping up to sit on the examination table.
“How long have you have you been experiencing symptoms?”
“Four months,” you rasp, your throat aching as another clump of blood and petals lodges at its base. You don’t talk much anymore if you can help it. It hurts and it usually leads to petals and blood. Then again, what doesn’t lead to petals and blood these days?
“Blood and petals,” the nurse says. You have a feeling it’s meant to be a question, but she’s probably seen all the evidence she needs to mark it down on the clipboard. She moves through taking your vitals methodically and with precision, like someone who has done this many times over. None of the results seem to improve her mood.
“The doctor will be right in,” she says, the door clicking shut behind her.
As soon as she’s gone, you hunch over the trash can she gave you earlier and vomit blood-soaked flower petals. The sight makes you woozy and blood drips from your lips slowly. You feel delirious as you stare at the pattern the blood makes on the trash can, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then and there.
You blink a few times when the door opens. You can't quite get your eyes to focus on Dr. Young now standing in front of you. “How are you?” she wonders, glancing down at your chart. You’re not sure if the chart can give her any more information than what she’s already witnessing in front of her.
“Been better,” you whisper hoarsely, choking again as another mass of sticky, bloody flowers rises in your throat like bile. You cough a couple of times before they finally dislodge, landing at the bottom of the trash can with a smack, your ribs and stomach aching with the strain.
“Do anti-growth pills work at all?”
You shrug because it’s easier than replying. You take anti-growth drugs by the handful these days, and the flowers still bloom.
Dr. Young sighs and you don’t have to look up from your trash can to know that she’s frowning. She puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “Let me listen.” You move the trash can away and let her press the stethoscope to your chest, breathing when cued.
“Open up,” she says, and you open your mouth as wide as you dare, afraid of coughing on her by mistake. She shines a light down your throat, says, “I can already see a stem from here.” She stands upright again, gives you a moment to commune with your trash can, before saying, “What are your thoughts about the surgery? Have you considered it?”
You rub your lips together, the blood on them distributing so it looks as if you’re wearing dark lipstick. You nod slowly. Once upon a time (two doctors before Dr. Young), you had considered the surgery, had even scheduled a date for it once. But something always came up. Usually his face in your mind or his words on your phone. And then there’s the eternal question: is life worth living if you can’t love him?
You’ve asked yourself that question a lot over the last four months. But now, it seems, you’ve discovered the answer. It's reflected back at you in the doctor’s expression: it’s physically impossible for you to breathe and love Seokjin at the same time. You have no other choice.
The doctor reads your expression carefully. “I can call in a favor at the hospital,” she says, her voice coated in sympathy, “I know a surgeon there that can do it. We can get you in today.”
You look at her, fear coursing through your veins now that all the blood sits in your lungs. She steps forward and clasps your hand, squeezing, “I’ll be there the whole time to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
You shake your head. You don’t care about that. Not at all.
“I know it’s scary,” she whispers, “to think of a life without love. But he’s just one man, and you will love others. Sometimes you have to consider yourself first.”
A tear slips past your eye and you nod, taking your hand from hers and wiping your face. She nods, too, stepping away from you with a sigh. Her voice turns authoritative as she turns to the nurse, “Call an ambulance.” Then she puts her phone to her ear, “Prep an operating room, I’m sending an emergency Hanahaki patient.”
You want to lay down. You’re exhausted. But being horizontal comes with its own risks, so you try to stay upright, resting your head against the rim of the trash can. A cold sweat engulfs your body and you know something big is about to come up.
Dr. Young approaches you, rubbing circles in your back and saying, “This will be over soon.”
A kind of relief floods your system at her words, and you’re surprised at how easy it is. You’ll miss Seokjin, but he doesn’t love you this way, and you’re in so much pain…
But now that you’ve thought his name, his face conjured in your mind’s eye, a pang of guilt and a fresh bloom stabs at your chest. You pull out your phone and type quickly.  
I need to talk to you.
Seokjin frowns when he sees your message. He’s about to respond when someone approaches his desk and says, “Professor?”
His expression changes as he looks up at the freshman, all doe eyed and nervous, “Hmm?”
“I had a question about number fifteen…”
Seokjin waves the girl over to his side of the desk and listens as she explains her confusion. He nods along with her monologue before explaining, slowly and with perfect detail, the steps to solve the problem, “Make sense?” he asks, his face open and generous.
“Yes,” she giggles, blushing under his direct gaze, “Thanks!” She goes back to her seat, swooning as she looks back at him.
Jin doesn’t notice, already glaring at his phone with a frown. He’s surprised at his own rage, but he is angry. You haven’t been to class in over a month; he doesn’t know how you’ve even managed to stay enrolled. You, the one who had made all of this so complicated, hadn’t responded to his messages in weeks. And now…now you thought him worthy of your texts?
Prof Jin: I’m in class
Prof Jin: Remember? CLASS?
Prof Jin: That thing you have to attend to keep your scholarship?
It almost makes you smile. He’s so rarely this petty and it almost makes you proud to have bothered him so much. He may not love you, but at least some part of him cares. A cloud of doubt forms like a fog in your mind, but the pinch as the paramedics secure you to a gurney and the heavy feeling of blood in your lungs clears it away.
I’m sick
Jin scowls at this message, glancing at the clock. Another fifteen minutes and he can berate you over the phone in the privacy of his office, away from prying ears.
Prof Jin: So what? You want some soup?
He presses send before he can think too much about it, guilt already gnawing at his insides. If you really are sick…that would explain the absences. But why wouldn’t you talk to him? He thought you were closer than that.
Ha ha
He expects you to say something more, but he spends the last ten minutes of class staring at the screen without so much as a “BRB.” By the time he dismisses everyone, he’s scowling and has completely forgotten to assign the problems for the next period. He resolves to email them out later while he packs up, but his brain is still foggy with thoughts of you.
Seokjin debates sending you another message while he walks to his office, but hesitates. He’s the professor, he’s the “sunbae” in this scenario, he’s the one who insisted your relationship stay strictly a mentorship. Why can’t he seem to find any semblance of that composure that was so abundant at the start of term? (Although to be fair, he was also the one to kiss you first…) 
There’s a flicker of realization in the back of his mind, but he drowns it out.
As soon as his office door is closed, one of his sugar gliders flying happily in her cage at his arrival, he dials your number. It rings enough times for him to put down his briefcase and take off his jacket, loosening his tie just as you pick up.
“Hello?”
He freezes—what should he say?
“Seokjin?” you ask and in the background there’s someone else talking.
“We should be at the hospital soon, ma’am, but try to keep upright.”
Those words snap him from his reverie and Seokjin nearly screams, “Hospital!”
You wince, adjusting your position on the gurney as you twist away from the phone’s speaker to cough into the kidney shaped bowl held out by a paramedic. Seokjin’s whole body tenses as he hears it; you sound like death.
“Thank you,” you whisper to the kind looking paramedic before turning back to the phone, “Sorry. Yes, hospital. Seoul Central.”
“Wuh…” he stutters, “Why?”
“I told you. I’m sick.”
“Hospital,” he starts, anger coming out his ears to cover up the fear that’s taking over every cell in his body, “Hospital isn’t sick, hospital is…more! It’s life-threatening or urgent or…”
You feel bad, but you smile at his anxiety. He’s so good at masking your “relationship” (if you can even call it that) in front of others that you oftentimes don’t believe he cares for you at all. And he may not love you but it is comforting to know there’s a part of him that’s concerned.
Although, as a fresh flower blooms in your chest, you rethink that sentiment. If he really is concerned, this surgery and the surgical removal of your feelings for him…that might hurt him in a way you hadn’t intended.
But as you twist to cough out flower petals, you remember that it really is your life at stake. And as much as you do love him, sometimes you have to be selfish.
“Calm down,” you tell him, whispering now because your throat aches, “It’s not urgent. They don’t even have the siren on, listen…” You hold the phone as high up as you can (not very since everything hurts your ribs these days) and then bring it back down to your ear, “See?”
Seokjin has his fists clenched, knuckles white with tension. Your voice is raspy and barely there and he doesn’t believe you at all.
“Seoul Central?” he says.
“Don’t,” you say, your vision going fuzzy as you try to shake your head, “Don’t…” but your voice fades out as you lose consciousness.
Seokjin winces as he hears the phone drop to the ground, and his heart stills as he hears the sirens burst to life on the other end.
“She’s out! We need a blood transfusion!”
“Get her on her side!”
Seokjin abandons everything but his wallet, car keys, and phone as he rushes out of his office.
You don’t wake up on the rest of the way to the hospital, and by the time you get there, they don’t want you to. Dr. Young stands behind a tall surgeon in scrubs. He’s holding an X-Ray up to the light and scowling, “Why didn’t you bring her sooner?”
Dr. Young shakes her head, “Because I can’t hypnotize people into treatment,” she growls.
“Well, we don’t have time to wake her up. We have to get these out now if we want her to have any chance at all,” he crosses his arms as if trying to prove a point.
She does the same, “Then what are you still doing here?”
You’re in an O.R. in minutes, just as Jin comes barreling into the hospital. He bypasses the short line at the nurses' station and starts screaming your name. Dr. Young looks up from the chart she’s examining near the doors to the surgical ward.
“I can handle this,” she says to the nurse trying to calm Seokjin down.
He turns on her wildly, his heart beating frantically, “Where is she?”
The doctor’s brow furrows, “Who are you?”
“Kim Seokjin,” he says, not understanding why that’s important right now. He grabs her hands and squeezes, “Please, she said she was sick and they were taking her to the hospital. She passed out in the ambulance I think…I hope…Where is she? Is she alright?”
“She’s fine, for now,” the doctor says, pulling his hands off of her, “Kim Seokjin? How do you know the patient?”
“I’m her…um…” He doesn’t know what to say, mutters, “professor,” but then shakes his head, “but also…Look, I need to see her.”
It hits her all at once and Dr. Young’s expression changes to one of pity, of sympathy, of sorrow. Frowning, she guides him to a chair, sits beside him, “She's in surgery. You won't be able to see her for a couple of hours. But…”
He’s confused, frantic, exhausted as the adrenaline leaves his system. She’s going to be okay, he chants in his head, The doctor said that right? She’s going to be okay. He can’t think of a scenario in which you aren’t.
“She didn't tell you…” Dr. Young says and it’s supposed to be a question but isn’t.
“Tell me what?”
“She has Hanahaki disease,” the doctor whispers.
Everything stops. He’s falling down a well and he can barely hear the doctor as she continues.
“The tulip blooms were quite extensive. She put off the surgery for months. They’re removing them now. But,” she meets his eyes, saying what she’s known since the minute she met him, “you do love her.”
He can’t think. “Tulips?” he whispers because that seems like a safe detail. Bouquets of pink tulips on her kitchen table, shoved precariously in her bag, placed delicately on his desk. But the memories are slashed, blood soaking the edges and tainting them as his mind turns over the other details of the doctor's revelation. Hanahaki disease. You thought he didn't love you?
“We can’t do this anymore. I can’t risk my job. Your scholarship. It’s not worth.”
It’s not worth it.
Not worth it.
Worth it.
“It’s not worth it,” he whispers, his body dissolving in grief but still frozen in the hard waiting room chair.
“Unfortunately, one side effect of the surgery is…” Dr. Young doesn’t finish the sentence, can’t finish it.
“She won’t love me anymore,” he says, staring at the eggshell wall in front of him because if he looks at anything else he’ll break.
“She won’t feel anything for you anymore. Complete apathy.”
“When does the surgery end?” Jin says, his voice even despite the chaos in his mind.
The doctor glances at her watch, “An hour.”
“Will someone come to get me?”
The doctor nods, “Yes. If you want.”
“Good.”
Seventy-four minutes. Dr. Young does not leave Jin’s side, her heartbreaking with every one of his breaths. When she glances over, there are tears on his cheeks but he doesn’t move to wipe them away. Just stares at the wall.
When the surgeon comes out, they both stand and Seokjin looks like his entire future depends on whatever this man says. He claps his hands gleefully and says, “We got it all! Some of my best work.”
The surgeon expected praise but he doesn’t receive any. Instead, Dr. Young watches Jin’s face. He is both relieved and disappointed. When he speaks it’s clear he’s given up, “Can I see her?”
“Yes,” Dr. Young says, “This way.”
When you wake up from the surgery everything hurts—your head, the giant incision down your chest, your limbs...your heart. You blink awake, your vision is fuzzy.
“Hi there, sweetheart,” a voice says, and when you squint there’s a nurse at your bedside. “I’m Rose, one of the nurse’s on this floor. We just took the breathing tube out. Your surgery went very, very well. It has been about seven days since then; Hanahaki surgery takes a bit to recover from,” she smiles sympathetically. She motions to the other side of your bed, “But this one hasn’t left yet, except to shower,” she giggles.
You look over and see him. Your eyes immediately tear up, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. The nurse’s expression goes from soft to concerned, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
The doors slide open and Dr. Young walks through. She’s frowning as she comes in, but her expression changes to confusion when she sees you. 
“I thought they were supposed to go away,” you whisper, your voice raspy and dry. You clench your eyes shut, “I thought the surgery would make them go away.”
Dr. Young raises her eyebrows, her jaw-dropping, “You still love him?”
Seokjin’s awake now and he rubs his eyes, rushing to your bedside, “You love me?”
“Why didn’t they go away?” you sob.
Seokjin grabs your arms and pulls them away from your face, “Wait, wait. I love you.”
“What?”
He nods, smiling hugely, pressing his forehead to yours, “I thought I lost you.”
author’s note—couldn’t resist a happy ending for this one, sue me :) 
for more of my works check out my m.list
97 notes · View notes
balancingdiet · 4 years
Text
Tabula Rasa
Detective Conan & Magic Kaito Characters: Shinichi/Kaito Words: 2100 ish Chapter: (1) ... (10) (11) (12)
Shinichi always finds his neighbour weird. But he didn’t expect to find his neighbour lying on a patch of grass and donned in Kaitou Kid’s costume, too.
“I can’t believe you’re worse than me,” Kuroba wheezed, his laughter bouncing off every kitchen cabinets, walls, and into Shinichi’s ears, much to his utmost annoyance. “At least I have a pot and a frying pan,” Kuroba continued.
Shinichi crossed his arms. “I don’t have the things that I don’t need, as simple as that.”
Walking towards the counter, Kuroba lifted the lid of the pot and stared inside it. “When was the last time you used this?”
In all honesty, Shinichi didn’t know the pot even existed until Kuroba asked for it and he found it in one of the cabinets. He briefly wondered what kind of excuse would make him and his kitchen-state less pathetic than it already was, but he came up with none.
Then again, why should Shinichi care about Kuroba’s opinions at all?
Thankfully, Kuroba seemed to have moved on from the conversation as he picked up the pot and brought it to the sink. He gave it a good scrub before using it to cook his rice.
Just when Shinichi thought the whole conversation was over, Kuroba laughed again when he pulled out a drawer. “C’mon. You don’t even have a spatula?”
Shinichi bumped Kuroba away from the drawer and searched on his own. When he couldn’t find it, he tried the next drawer, and the next, until he found one. He pointed it at Kuroba’s face (who was trying hard not to laugh again). 
“You shouldn’t be insulting the person who is lending you his kitchen and gas.”
“Since when was I insulting you?” Kuroba took the spatula and cocked his head to the side. 
Shinichi narrowed his eyes. 
Kuroba grinned, waving the spatula at Shinichi in efforts to calm him down. “I wasn’t insulting you. I’m just concerned.” 
“I don’t need it.”
“Huh.” Kuroba’s smile didn’t falter as he turned back to the pot. “For a moment you sounded almost like me.”
Shinichi closed his eyes in a long-suffering manner. “Just hurry up and cook and then get out of my house.”
Kuroba glanced at him. “Are you going to watch me the entire time?”
“Yes. In case you do something funny, like planting a camera or stashing your stolen diamonds here.”
“Suit yourself. It’s your house after all,” Kuroba said with a shrug and continued his work.
Shinichi had his fair share of his own work too. He swiftly brought his computer down from his study room and to the kitchen, using the counter as his temporary desk. Often when Kuroba walked behind him to get something from the other side of the kitchen, he would tilt his computer screen down while eyeing him suspiciously. In return, Kuroba would laugh.
Speaking of which, Shinichi noted that today was probably the day he heard Kuroba laughed the most number of times. 
Besides those stupid “peeking-incidents,” the kitchen was more than often silence when they were busy with their things, saved for the sizzling sounds from Kuroba’s frying pan and Shinichi’s rapid typing on the keyboard. But for the latter, it became lesser and lesser when Shinichi realised he was getting more and more distracted by the smell of whatever Kuroba was cooking.
And it wasn’t in a bad way.
During Shinichi’s seventh attempt to try reading past the first sentence of his email, Kuroba snapped a finger over at him. 
“Mind passing two plates?” Kuroba paused. “Please tell me you have at least two plates.”
Shinichi decided that five wasn’t very far off from two, so he kept silent and picked what was needed from a cabinet. When he passed the two plates to Kuroba, he caught a glance of the frying pan—fried rice. 
When Shinichi returned to the kitchen counter to continue his work, a plate of the said fried rice appeared in between him and his computer screen. Shinichi shut his laptop, and glanced over at Kuroba who was standing next to him.
“A thank you gift—for letting me use your kitchen,” Kuroba said, gesturing his head at the food.
Shinichi wordlessly took the warm plate, too dumfounded to react. Not only because of Kuroba’s act, he also found himself ridiculously stupid to not realise when Kuroba asked for two plates instead of one.
He watched Kuroba walking to the opposite side of the counter and placed his plate down.
Shinichi blinked. “You’re… eating here?”
“It’s better to eat it while it’s hot,” Kuroba said, already mouthful. "You should too. Stop being a workaholic.”
“I’m not a workaholic,” Shinichi spat, drumming his fingers over his closed laptop. He glanced at the rice, unsure…
Kuroba chuckled. “Scared I’d poison you?” 
Not-so-strangely, that was the last of his worries; the true worry was actually the opposite. Muttering his thanks for the food, he picked up the spoon and took a bite.
It was delicious.
And this was his worry.
Likewise to the many different versions of Kuroba, Shinichi wasn’t used to this version of himself. He hated when one was not acknowledged for their efforts and talent, but he also hated how it was Kuroba that he had to praise.
But Shinichi didn’t have to worry much about it, though. Kuroba was hardly looking at him as he continued to gobble down his own plate of food, as though he hadn’t eaten for days—
Then again, he must be too busy to eat since his next announced heist was coming around the corner.
Calling me the workaholic… What an irony, Shinichi thought drily.
“Where or who did you learn to cook this from?” Shinichi casually asked as he resumed his attention to the rice. But from the corner of his eyes, he noticed Kuroba shifted, and there was a millisecond pause as his spoon hovered over his plate before he dug in for the next scoop.
“A childhood friend,” Kuroba said, his voice surprisingly levelled. 
Shinichi nodded. He wasn’t sure what he was nodding to, but it was the only reply he knew to give.
He wondered if that childhood friend’s name happened to be Aoko.
“Anyway, I noticed your plants need a bigger pot. Like seriously.” Kuroba pointed at the window facing the backyard. “You may be a detective, but you’re becoming a murderer yourself.”
Shinichi couldn’t tell if Kuroba was using the distraction method to change the conversation or if he was genuinely worried for his plants, but Shinichi gave him the benefit of the doubt and continued the diverted topic, remarking how he didn’t have the time to change before Kuroba started calling him a plant-murderer for about five times or so. Soon, their conversation wasn’t about the plants anymore; it drifted from significant to insignificant things, like the weather, some gossips about their common neighbours, a bit of Shinichi’s job, and all the names of Kuroba’s doves. 
Their half-eaten fried rice was forgotten for the rest of the time… until Kuroba’s phone rang, and he had to leave.
Shinichi washed the dishes.
All along, Shinichi felt the walls Kuroba built around him were made of glass. No, not because they were easily breakable, not even close, but because of how transparent it was. If Kuroba was willing to switch on the lights on his side, Shinichi could see him entirely through the glass. But if he chose to switch off the lights, there was nothing Shinichi could see. He could try by using a torchlight to shine it through, but what he would see was only his reflection.
(There was him, in he.)
But these days, things seemed a little different. It was as if Kuroba was playing with the lights, flickering it on and off; it was common for Kuroba to remain as distant as he always was, but there were sometimes when he would randomly open up a bit more to Shinichi, like during their short and coincidental meetings on the streets, or during those times when Shinichi dragged him out to clean his "freshly-painted" mailbox.
Perhaps it was because Kuroba didn’t find it a risk to share these small, surface-level kind of things about himself, but Shinichi thought otherwise; he marked all of their importance while he listened attentively. Like knowing that Kuroba liked blue explained why all the decks of cards he had were of the colour, or that those loud music Kuroba played wasn’t directly to annoy Shinichi, but because drinking caffeine didn’t work for him.
It all explained many other things, but mostly it came down to the same point; that Kuroba Kaito was still a human, and he really wasn’t as bad as what Shinichi liked to think.
----
Being the only blonde in the cafe, it wasn’t hard for Shinichi to spot Miyano Shiho, who was sipping on her coffee as she admired the view outside the cafe. Shinichi glanced at his watch, wondering if he should order a drink, but decided against it as he headed straight for the table.
“Sorry for being late,” Shinichi explained, pointing through the window. “Traffic was bad—”
Shiho sipped her drink impassively, her loud slurps cutting Shinichi off before she placed the cup back on the table. “No matter what, your excuses will not bring back the half an hour I have wasted waiting here.”
“Well…”
She picked up a bag from the ground and pushed it across the table.
“Thanks.” Shinichi took the bag and briefly rummaged through it. They were mostly his cancelled bills, some miscellaneous mails and small parcels that reached his old house instead of his current one. Due to some complications in changing all of his mailing address, he had to trouble Shiho to clear, pick up and gather the mails before they met like this once or twice every month.
Shinichi glanced up after the checks. “I would love to stay and chat—”
“Please don’t.”
“Oh, alright.” Shinichi stood up from his seat. “I’ll see you soon. Send my regards to Professor Agase.”
“Before you go.” Shiho cleared her throat, stopping him in his track. “There’s something you need to know.”
Shinichi sat back down immediately. “What is it?”
Shiho glanced outside of the cafe, looking a little hesitant, or wistful? It was already hard to read her as Haibara Ai, much less as her grown-up self. Shinichi tried to make some guesses. Given his last conversation with Professor Agase…
“Did Satoshi ask you out?”
Shiho whipped her head back. “What?”
“Satoshi. The guy from the HR department in your research company?” Shinichi frowned, looking up at the ceiling. “Or was it the IT department?”
“No.” Shiho gritted her teeth as she started muttering incoherently under her breath, though Shinichi could make out a sentence that was close to, “he’s going to get it from me.”
“Then what it is?” Shinichi asked hesitantly.
“It’s not about me. It’s about Mouri-san.”
The name, like magic, squeezed Shinichi’s heart on the cue. The coffee-making machines and chatters around the cafe seemed to disappear for a good three seconds before he could start hearing sound again. “You mean… Ran?” Shinichi said after a long while.
“Who else?”
Shinichi tugged on his collar. “What about her?”
“She went to your house last week,” Shiho said.
Shinichi gaped, eyes so wide he thought they were about to roll out.
“Naturally, when she couldn’t find you, she came over to look for Professor Agase. But he wasn’t in that time, so I answered the door.” Shiho picked up her coffee, taking a slow sip. “She then asked me for your address.”
“Did you give her?”
She stared at Shinichi across the brim of her cup. “I can’t say no to her request, can I?” 
“I... supposed not.” Shinichi dragged a hand down his face. “Did she say anything else?”
“No. She left after a thanks.”
“You said this happened last week?”
“Yes.” Shiho raised an eyebrow. “I assumed that you haven’t seen her?”
Shinichi bit his lips. “No, obviously.” 
Shiho paused, a look of wonderment breeze past her face. “Are you disappointed?” 
Disappointed? Shinichi had a fair share of disappointments in his life, but the churning feeling in his stomach was definitely not close to it
He realised it was more of a dread.
Shinichi wished he could wonder or try to explain why, but he really didn’t have the time for this. He glanced at his watch and stood up from his seat the second time. “Thanks for telling me, but I really have to go.”
Taking his bag of mails, he dashed out of the cafe.
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moistwithgender · 5 years
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Monthly Media Roundup (May 2019)
The march of time inexorably proceeds beyond my grasp and so I must write another post. I’ve been a bit burned out, just focusing on one diversion (it was Zelda, you know it was Zelda), but after finishing it I recovered enough energy to get a few more things done in the last half of the month. I didn’t watch any anime or read any manga in May, though I did read some 70s Marvel, which I liveblog in my “curry reads comics” tag. Last time I did an actual capital-P Post about my Marvel reading was a year ago after marathoning a full(ish) decade. If people are interested in more of that I could work at making posts for each year of issues I read, recapping the developments and my thoughts on them (which will become more relevant as Events become more common, I imagine). I’ve just got a few games to talk about this month, but I imagine I have a lot to say about at least one of them.
The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Switch): 2 years ago I did something I extremely rarely do: stood in line at a Best Buy at midnight for the release of the Switch so that I could buy it with BotW. BotW was also out on Wii U, which I had, but the promotional material for BotW had struck such a chord in me that it justified making the jump for the new console (this would eventually become troublesome when the first model of joycons failed, but, well). I got home, put some ten odd hours into it, and then put it down for two years. I’ve always had a problem where, struck with the intuition that I will end up forming a deep relationship with a work, I will put it off for years. I put off Persona 3 for five years after buying it at launch, and it eventually became the most personal game experience I would have, even seven years onward. I think the two factors that pushed me to finally play through BotW was wanting to watch a friend stream it (but also not wanting it spoiled for me), and needing a distraction for when I was taking care of my cat.
It’s been about two months now since he passed away, and I finally finished the game at 215+ hours about half a month ago. So, I was playing this game as a coping method while preparing for loss, and in dealing with loss. It’s appropriate that the game is effectively both a fantasy about reclaiming at least part of what you have lost, and a colossal exercise in coping. The game is as much about getting distracted from your responsibilities and fucking off to snowboard in the mountains as it is about being aware of the world around you. The Zelda games have frequently used themes of Shintoism to portray harmony in nature and in civilization. I’m currently replaying Ocarina of Time and the cosmogony myth (is it a myth if a talking tree explains it to you?) specifically words the goddesses as “[giving] the spirit of law to the world” and “[producing] all life forms who would uphold the law.” When I was younger (see: early 20s) I didn’t scrutinize the text much but now I figure it’s reasonable to read “law” as “natural order”. It should be noted that for an N64 game, OoT has remarkably good prose. BotW, in transitioning the series in what may be its third main genre (as opposed to the genres of Zelda 1 and OoT), has taken that Shintoist aesthetic and incorporated it into the entire philosophy of the game’s design. More than just being a game whose narrative concerns an imbalanced world, BotW embraces the trends of open worlds and immersive sims to create an immense, varied space where the coded laws of physics are always impacting the experience. Thunderstorms make metal equipment a liability, while rain covers the sounds of footsteps. Wind can sweep away items, fire and high temperatures affect flammable objects (including yourself), and aforementioned metallic items can conduct electricity, which can be used to solve puzzles in unintended ways. Weather changes regularly based on the region and changes the world in tandem. Rain doesn’t just fall, it actively collects, and ponds become bigger, and surfaces become slicker. Each systemic element (pun not intended) that was incorporated affected everything else in the world, and in interviews there were mentions that changing the volume of wind in one area had a butterfly effect on another, causing pots to fly off of patios in a village. It’s no wonder the game took five years to make, considering how rarely glitches occur in the game (and most that I know of have to be deliberately recreated for exploitation). You’re engaging with enemies as much as you are with the environment, and at times even with your own body, creating and consuming food and drink for the purpose of staving off sunstroke or frostbite. As a result, BotW’s Hyrule is immensely palpable, and easy to lose oneself in from how livable it feels.
When I first started playing at release, I was a bit disappointed to discover that villages existed in-game, as early promotional material and the state of the Great Plateau you start on painted a picture of a lonely world. In the end, the soundtrack and vast amount of uncolonized land does give an understated sense of melancholy that defines the game, though the fact that every five steps you’ll find a Korok micropuzzle waiting to YA HA HA and fanfare at you betrays that a bit (I still love those Koroks and their puzzles, don’t @ me). The NPCs in this are numerous, though, from the occupants of the villages to wandering traders, and their personalities are all distinct and charming, and probably the best I’ve ever seen in a game, or at least in a long time. If this game wasn’t railroading the Link/Zelda relationship so hard, I would have liked a Dragon’s Dogma-style “date any NPC (within reason)” mechanic. I’m just going to have to start a “NPCs you should marry” side-tumblr.
Another defining aspect of the gameplay, and easily what makes the game surpass arguably every other Zelda, is how Nintendo heard the decade or so of complaints about the linear Zelda lock-and-key formula being reiterated to the point of stagnation, and, after great success with A Link Between Worlds’ item rental subversion, just decided to make everything optional. You do the tutorial on the Great Plateau, and, if you feel especially gutsy, you can beeline it straight to Ganon. He’s in horse-riding distance, or running distance, if you’re tenacious. Will you make it to him, survive the hordes of enemies, and take him down? If it’s your first time playing the game and you haven’t learned the systems, probably not. Is it possible? Absolutely. Much like how the monthly cycle of a Persona game is a proverbial Rocky training montage of preparing for The Big Fight, everything you do in BotW is in preparation. A lot of open world games can feel dissonant in that you’re incentivized to be distracted as a player and make your own fun, meanwhile the protagonist keeps saying “I’m gonna get bloody revenge on the mafia boss!” during bowling matches. There is still, unavoidably, a sense of urgency played up for narrative sake in BotW, since Impa insists Zelda is waiting and can’t hold Ganon back forever, but it’s all much more narratively justifiable, if you want that. You know, because Zelda is for hardcore roleplaying.
I couldn’t resist a second playthrough, even after logging 215+ hours, so I went ahead and started a separate file on Master Mode, Nintendo’s weird in-house, in-franchise rebranding of, uh, a hard mode. Previously it was called Hero Mode. Why do you--well, okay, I know why they do it. They’re likely trying to distinguish it from a “we just tweaked the numbers” hard mode, and also want to make it feel less threatening than something labeled hard mode. If they’re going to go to the trouble to make it a distinct form of play, they want to try and appeal to everyone. And it is fairly distinct. All enemies are bumped up one rank, so a red bokoblin is blue, and a blue bokoblin is black, and so on. There is a new strongest rank of enemy, though in my run I did not seek them out. There are enemies (and treasure chests!) perched on flying rafts, which can be one-shot with proper bow aiming, but also carry dangerous elemental arrows, and can alert all other enemies in the area. Stealth is much more difficult, and pointless early in. All enemies regenerate up to a third of their health, including bosses! Though, that can be temporarily interrupted by inflicting any amount of damage on them, so it behooves you to be on the offense. Less autosave slots! This wasn’t a problem for me. Guardians randomly delay the firing of their beams! This was absolutely a problem for me and I avoided them entirely in my run. In the beginning when tools and resources are scare, particularly on the Great Plateau, Master Mode is at its hardest, and its most thrilling. Rather than aimlessly exploring, I was pressured to decide where I knew things were, and beeline it to them. Sometime in-between two of the four main optional dungeons, I had amassed enough valuable resources that the game had settled back into the same kind of difficulty as normal mode. Bosses were a little harder due to regen and my resources being somewhat scarcer, but they were manageable. Competently performing flurry attacks (upon successfully dodging attacks at the last second) was extremely valuable to me, but I imagine with enough food in my inventory, I could have brute forced my way through a lot of the fights (though, uh, obviously thou wouldst like to live deliciously (please hate me for this phrasing)). I chose to forego the Master Sword for the sake of challenge, and beat Master Mode with only seven hearts, in around 25 hours. You should play Master Mode, it’s fun.
Here’s a little gameplay SPOILER:
Something I haven’t done, but would like to eventually do, is avoid the main dungeons and just head straight to Ganon. When I played Master Mode, I wasn’t totally confident, and did the dungeons for the resources. After watching some speedruns I learned that if you skip the dungeons, and therefore the main bosses, you have to fight them all at once immediately before the fight with Ganon, without breaks.
That. Sounds. Great.
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Wandersong (PC/Steam): Have you heard about Homestuck?
Okay, wait. Wait. Come back, wait. Stop leaving. PLEASE.
Okay, I got the most inflammatory sentence out of the way. Now that we’re eased into that: Wandersong is unignorably influenced by Homestuck. Homestuck conjured a lot of baggage, from having a really difficult, pretentious, arrogant author (I should know, I gave him the benefit of the doubt for way too long), to having some unfortunate narrative turns, to being a billion words long. Wandersong invokes the vaster-than-God scope, the minute and personal perspective of the heroes, and its inclinations toward emotional intelligence (it still surprises me Homestuck had these moments given the author’s deeply unsympathetic sense of humor), and… condenses it! It also makes it a light puzzle-platformer and is about performing music (note: not rhythm, you don’t have to have ANY rhythm), and looks like a Paper Mario game. It is very charming, very funny, very optimistic, and most surprisingly, uncompromising at times. Wandersong says that you, despite your role, are capable of great things, especially self growth and change, as long as you commit to it. If, faced with the consequences of your bad decisions, you choose to double down and keep at it, you will reap what you sow. This is distinctly different from Undertale’s brand of pacifism route optimism, where “no one has to die!” This brand of optimism is a measured but enthusiastic “you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, but you can save the rest” and I think that’s a uniquely valuable message.
I was a little confused about the resolution of the communist uprising chapter, but I recall the game bringing my cynicism into question, and the most important thing a work can do is make you question yourself.
(Also, if any of my mutuals are low on funds but interested, I do have a drm-free version I can share.)
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Minit (PC/Steam): I don’t think I actually have a lot to say about Minit! It’s very fun and curious and short. You play a little… duck… thing, and you pick up a cursed sword which kills you in one minute. Then you wake up the next day, and die in a minute. Then you wake up the next day. Having only sixty seconds of vitality, you have to optimize your exploration. There’s a slow-speaking old man who you will die listening to, but the hint he gives at the end of his sentence will lead you to something valuable. There’s a guy in a bar angry about the lack of music. If you change the music, he will probably dislike it. If you keep changing the music, you might live to see him like it. There’s a boat ride to a tropical island you have to grit your teeth and wait through. Not all of the events are slow, some are quick bouts of hurried exploration. Most of it is, given the time limit. I’d say more, but given the overall length (it took me about an hour to finish), I’d risk spoiling a sizable fraction of the experience. It’s about $10, though I got mine in a Humble Bundle Monthly subscription. The spec requirements are very low, so your laptop can likely run it.
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A Hat in Time (PC/Steam): Heads up, I’m gonna get into a lot of spoilers for this game, including endgame spoilers, but also heads up, the story isn’t really the point in this game. This is a game about tone and platforming. That said, I’m gonna be talking exclusively about the weird ideas in this game, and if you want those weird ideas to be a surprise, then just skip ahead until I put up big letters.
I’m somewhat hesitant to be critical of A Hat in Time because despite a number of weird Things about it, I recognize that it’s quite popular with a lot of people, and that always makes me pause and want to figure out what it is that makes it pass the bar for others. My guess at this point is that it invokes nostalgia through its unmitigated imitation of games that came before. The games it chooses to ape are all your childhood’s Greatest Hits, Wind Waker (which it most resembled in its earliest development), Super Mario Sunshine/Galaxy (which it most resembles now), Banjo-Kazooie, Psychonauts, etc. It never really surpasses those games, for me, and at times cribs from them to the degree that it obscures the game’s own identity. After all, what you enjoy may help define you, but you wouldn’t say it’s your personality. Well. Unless you kin the Gamecube. I guess. There are bonus levels to the game’s different “worlds” (I thought they were different planets, since your hub area is a spaceship, and you access them via different telescopes, but it turns out it’s just one planet?), and you can collect photographs, which sequentially tell a story about the residents of that “world”. Psychonauts did this because each level took place in the mind of a character, and the photos together told a story about the character that fundamentally changed the way you thought about them, and made the whole game feel richer as a result. I collected the photos for all but the DLC levels in AHiT (those are Really Hard), and of those five or so worlds, none of those bonus photos told me anything that changed how I thought about the characters. There’s a dock town run by a mafia (s-sorta) led by a chef, but did you know they all used to work at a processing factory before going there? There are two manipulative bird directors who are fighting over the same studio to produce their own film and win an award, but did you know they… wanted to be directors since they were kids? There’s a devil analogue who steals people’s souls if they wander into his forest, but did you know he was a prince, and the princess was mad he talked to another girl (it was a flower girl, he was getting flowers for the princess), and imprisoned him until they both the prince and princess turned into evil ghosts? That’s the only one that comes close to being an “oh” moment, but I don’t think it does for the reasons the writer was hoping for. In general, these are prologues without substance.
Speaking of substance, the game has a bit of an issue with theming. At least, it does at first. The first town is the previously mentioned dock town, run by a mafia. By “mafia”, I mean a bunch of meatheads who talk about how they like punching people, and refer to themselves individually, in the third person, as Mafia. Mafia loves to punch the poor and the birds. Mafia is a one-dimensional character copy-pasted across 20% of the game. Mafia laughs. They’re run by a chef, but also they can’t cook, so there’s a cat chef in hiding who routinely swaps out their food with his so no one has to eat bad food. I don’t know why, when the town has maybe three non-Mafia character. He does eventually leave and board your ship, so maybe he’s just looking for something to do. The leader of the mafia also boards your ship, for a joke and to sell you an upgrade. The mafia are also afraid of mud monsters, or aliens, or something. There’s a girl with a moustache named Moustache Girl who wants to use your Time Macguffins to overthrow organized crime, and Hat Girl decides that’s a no-go. There are giant faucets around the town that replace all the water with lava. You might be noticing these things have little to no connection. You might be suspecting this level was made first when the dev was inexperienced. I might be suspecting this. It’s fine.
Later worlds do a much better job of theming. There’s the movie studio split between two birds. One of them a penguin, who prefers science fiction, the other a…
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...hmmm. I suspect this guy, The Conductor, is an OC the director has had for a while, maybe since childhood, that they just decided Is A Bird, and carried it into the game, since the game occasionally is like... bird?? Alternatively, it’s some sort of corruption of Woodstock from Peanuts. Possibly both. Anyway, this guy just wants to make movies that take place on wild western trains. He has a strong fake Scottish accent, and the penguin, named DJ Grooves, is some sort of disco Elvis. They’ve both hired owls as actors, and some crows have snuck onto the train set (the crows are so obviously the G-Men from Psychonauts’ Milkman level it bothers me a bit). This is already a little busy, but it’s okay! Birds, movies, two distinct genres, and you trapped in-between them, just trying to collect your macguffins. It works. You take part in both of their movies, and your performance in both determines the winner, when suddenly… CORRUPTION WAS AFOOT, and you have to explore the depths of the studio and engage in a showdown.
Another world is a spooky forest where your access is restricted by completing certain contracts for the devilish character. Sometimes it’s murder (reasonable), exploring a haunted mansion in survival horror format (ooh!), fixing the plumbing in a well (wait, what), and doing mail delivery (back up back up). Half of that works. The finale of the forest makes up for it, though. This game insists on most of its bosses having like 4-5 phases and breaks for dialogue and the gall required to get away with that honestly earned my respect. They’re pretty fun times.
The best level to play is, unsurprisingly, the first DLC. I say unsurprising because it’s clear the dev is learning as they go, and the level design improves as they go along. Aside from bonus levels, the first DLC takes place on a massive cruise liner titled the SS Literally Can’t Sink. Ha ha. It’s split into three parts. The first part has you exploring the many interconnected rooms of the ship to find broken shards of a macguffin, the second part has you taking that mental map and using it to frantically complete multiple timed fetch quests at once, and the third part, now that you understand the ship pretty intimately, capsizes the ship, requiring you to traverse frigid waters and overturned scenery to retrieve babies and the ship’s incompetent but adorable baby seal crew (the seals speak in hewwo talk, the game is unforgivably loaded with memes but let me have this). This progression is my favorite in the game, and while I haven’t bought the Nyakuza Metro DLC, I’m looking forward to it.
The ending level had me a bit bewildered at first because in the beginning when Hat Kid refuses to use time powers to stop organized crime, I saw it as a hamfisted way to create tension between Hat Kid and Moustache Girl. Apparently it was working up towards the moral of the story. In the final level, Moustache Girl has stolen all the macguffins, and possessing ultimate power, becomes corrupted ultimately, and summons everyone in the world to her Bowser castle to be judged and die. On first glance, I thought “well, sure, that’s sensible,” but when Hat Kid finds the support of all the villains in the game, I was a little confused. The villains sacrifice themselves to give you infinite health, explicitly stating that they’ll just come back through time magic if you win so who cares (cool stakes), and you overcome authoritarianism with the support of corrupt hollywood, organized crime, and the literal devil. This would be fine if at some point Hat Kid, you know, took them on a Zuko Quest to face turn all of them, but that doesn’t happen. They just all decide “hey yeah, fuck this girl! Also we don’t have time for the nuance this might require!” After all is said and done and you collect all your macguffins, you’re given the choice of leaving the defeated Moustache Girl a single macguffin so she can defeat the mafia (whose side are we on) or just saying nahhh. Neither appears to make a difference, but maybe in a year or two we’ll get a DLC that makes you regret your words and deeds. You try to fly your ship to your home planet, and the villains all grab on to your ship, which is in space, begging you not to leave. I seriously suspect they intended to incorporate face-turn scenes and just couldn’t find the time, because nothing but physical proximity implies these guys would have any emotional attachment to Hat Kid, and that’s a bit of a stretch. Anyway, Hat Kid brooms them off the ship to plummet down to earth and flies away. Sheds a tear about the whole thing. In the end, the moral was that Order good, but too much Order bad, except if you are Hat Kid, in which case Chaos good. Or maybe…
After finishing the game I decided to look into any left over secrets, since my completion score was in the 80s of percents. Turns out that if you use the camera badge to finagle the free look feature into a marginally open armoire somewhere on your spaceship, you can find a shrine to Hat Kid with a couple skulls, a bunch of blurry photos, and some strange symbols. If you doing this while wearing the mask that lets you see the secrets of the dead (for platforming and puzzle purposes, of course), there’s a bunch of alien text you can decode. And then there’s some youtube channels. And a twitter account. All sharing more of those decodable ciphers, all talking about vague dreamy apocalyptic histories and dark betrayals. Or something. That’s right, this game’s got a fucking ARG. I cut things off there. If the developer Gears for Breakfast is gonna make an occultist grimdark sequel to A Hat in Time, they can put up a trailer for it.
OKAY I’M DONE TALKING ABOUT A HAT IN TIME, the short of it is that I had a lot of mixed feelings but had fun.
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How did I end up talking more about A Hat in Time than Breath of the Wild? What are my priorities?
Well, that’s everything I finished in May! Will I get back to anime and manga in June? Guess we’ll see! Again, let me know if you want me to do year-recap Marvel posts, since my liveblogging is mostly just shitposts, and the occasional attempt at thoughtfulness among those posts feels kind of out of place. Honestly, I’m probably gonna do that anyway, but it’s nice to see interest. If you read all this, thanks a lot! Go play Breath of the Wild and Wandersong.
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